Umber

Dimwold visits Klavicus with startling news.

Klavicus Starton the Second, Jr., MA, AW, COE (honorary), and GWG Esteemed Fellow, sat at his desk surrounded by Suloise dictionaries and ancient arcane reference works, poring over a parchment gone yellow and then brown with age. He had reached a particularly thorny patch in Lyzandred’s prophecies, and mulling over etymological alternatives had led him onto other roads. He appreciated Lyzandred’s madness as one might a fine wine; its contemplation had given him many pleasant hours over the years. He drifted into thoughts about the benefits and shortcomings of insanity. If Lyzandred were any indication, it yielded much creativity. But if fits of forgetfulness rendered one incapable of enjoying the fruits of one’s labor, what was the point? And how did madness affect the pursuit and retention of power? Power – now there was an entirely different issue… 

His reverie was interrupted by a sound in his anteroom. He strolled out to investigate and there for the second time in three days stood Dimwold. Today the mephit looked panic-stricken, and trembled in Klavicus’ entryway like dying embers on a hearth. “They took it!” he squealed.

”Who took what?” the demon asked.

Dimwold seemed not to hear him. “They walked in to the Battle Arena, took it, and left again, as if the lieutenants of Thanatos and He Himself weren’t arrayed against them.”

Klavicus had a good idea of the “who” now, and even the “what,” although he wanted confirmation on both points. “What happened?” he demanded.

“They took it from Him and, oh! By all that is profane and unholy, if He finds out I talked to them He’ll flay me alive over and over for the next three hundred years!” He turned red-rimmed, suspicious eyes on Klavicus. “This is your doing, isn’t it? You’re the one who sent them to me. What have I ever done to you? I’ve tried to be a good, dutiful -”

The balor couldn’t take another word; he reached out and with the back of his hand sent Dimwold sprawling. As the mephit lay quivering in a silent heap on the floor and showed no signs of getting up, Klavicus realized he’d unfortunately bought peace at the price of information. Dimwold often annoyed him, but few of his informants were so transparent in their motives, and that in its own peculiar way made the elemental a pearl beyond price. So the demon not ungently picked him up and deposited him in his usual chair in the study; pouring two glasses of his better brandy (a gift from a Greyhawk mage in happier times), he wrapped the mephit’s fingers around one of them. ”If I wanted to see you dead, little fool, I’d arrange to be there to watch.”

“Well, thank you for that at least.” Dimwold’s self-pitying sniffle turned into a deep breath as he realized what was in the glass.

In spite of himself, Klavicus almost smiled. ”Now take a sip, get a hold of youself, and begin by telling me who still stands.”

“Baphomet, Quah-Nomag, Kauvra, and Harthoon were all killed.” 

Klavicus quickly ran through the last known state of Orcus’ favored guard.  “But that leaves only Mordel.”

“And Frillicus. But every time they saw a shadow of his shadow, they ran. After they left the Zombie King, they were stopping every ten feet, ready to hide in buildings whenever he flew by. At first I thought they were strong, but watching that – ” 

”Oxen are strong,” the balor interrupted. “But somehow they never rise above plowing others’ fields. Why do you think that is?” He found it highly improbable that the adventurers truly stopped every ten feet, but there was a more interesting lesson than truthfulness to be taught here. When Dimwold just fidgeted in his chair, refusing to meet the demon’s gaze, Klavicus frowned and said, ”Never mind. Now start from the beginning of this, when they were meeting with the Zombie King, and go from there. Don’t leave anything out. And to begin with, why were you following them around?”

“I was – maybe – a little bored. And they were wreaking such havoc everywhere they went, they were kind of fun to watch. I mean, they don’t have much talent at the finer arts of torture and mayhem, but their swords are really big and when things start incinerating in holy fire or dropping into dried-out husks or when three balor explode at once or – I mean, uh -”

”Yes, I understand,” Klavicus growled. “Let’s move on.”

“So whatever they went to talk to the Zombie King about got him giving orders and next thing all the zombies started moving out of the city toward that other undead city where all the wraiths are. And while they were still talking to him all the demiliches showed up and -”

Klavicus waved him into silence. “Wait. Do you really mean all of the demiliches, or are you exaggerating again?”

The mephit looked hurt. “I never exaggerate. And yes, it was all thirteen of them. I counted. After I hid. They started ripping whole floors off the Zombie King’s tower, until the adventurers were standing in the open air. Then they started shouting that the adventurers had tricked them, and the adventurers started shouting back that they had no idea what they were talking about, and the demiliches demanded they return It, and the adventurers insisted they had no idea what It was, and eventually they all stopped shouting and just stared at each other, and then the demiliches headed full speed toward Orcus’ castle and the adventurers ran down the stairs before Frillicus maybe saw them, the cowards.” Almost out of breath, he took a swig of brandy and started choking.

The demon slapped him on the back once or twice, perhaps a little harder than necessary. ”Skip the commentary,” he commanded sternly. ”Then what happened?”

”They went almost to the gate, where the watchers are, scanning the sky for Frillicus all the time. But before they got there someone opened up what looked like a portable hole, and the big human fighter, the elven psion, and the planetar climbed in. Then they closed it up again, and the rogue with the fake arm took off all his armor. I couldn’t figure out why.”

”Couldn’t you?” Klavicus laughed. ”The watchers demand the strongest challenger. Then across the bridge an exact duplicate appears. An interesting decision. So even the lawful ones cheat when it suits them. Now let me guess. The rogue didn’t wait for his double to meet him. He started shooting arrows at him, didn’t he?”

Dimwold looked surprised. ”Yes. How did you know?” Then he smiled craftily. “I’ll bet you didn’t know this, though. The wizard handed him some arrows, and when he fired them they turned into hawks. His double was dead before he got anywhere near him. The hawks killed him.”      

Klavicus leaned forward in his chair. “They turned into hawks, you say?” Dimwold nodded, and the demon leaned back, swirled the brandy in his glass and watched the viscous liquid run down the sides. “Hmm…I only know one source for the enchantment that creates those arrows. So the old archmage has tried to raise a new brood of heroes for himself. Interesting. I wonder if they’ll disappoint him in the end. Champions often do, you know. That’s why the demiliches prefer death knights.”

Dimwold waited impatiently for the balor to stop talking. ”By then Frillicus was getting really close. And I was waiting for the fun to start because watching Frillicus fight is more fun than anybody – um, now that you’re gone of course.” He eyed Klavicus nervously, but the demon seemed to be thinking of other things. “But then the wizard, the rogue and the cleric got into a different portable hole, and that crazy fast psion started running, and I’m not sure Frillicus even saw them before they were across that entire mile-long bridge and into the first maze.

“I couldn’t see them in the mazes of course, but Baphomet was waiting for them like he always is, and dropped swarms of meteors and wilting spells on them right as they were exiting and couldn’t defend themselves, and then teleported away. It was funny – they looked really mad, and there wasn’t a single thing they could do about it.

”But the second time it happened, the rogue looked at him with this fake eye of his, kind of not directly at him but above his head, and just when Baphomet was getting ready to teleport the rogue reached out with his fake hand – even though it’s not real, he’s really quick with it – and grabbed at thin air. At least it looked like thin air, but then when Baphomet disappeared, so did he! And then -”

“Stop.” Klavicus ordered. “You keep talking about a fake eye and hand. The rogue I saw had no such devices on his body. What did they look like? Is it the same person, I wonder?”

“How should l know? ” Dimwold asked irritably. “They were both kind of mechanical-looking. I didn’t notice anything else. Although wait – come to think of it, he didn’t have the eye when I first talked to them. I wonder where it came from?”

Klavicus reached for his pipe, lit it, and puffed on it with great deliberation. “I wonder indeed. Please, continue.”

“When everybody realized he was gone, they all clustered around the cleric and the wizard, then they disappeared too. I found them just in time to see Baphomet chop off the rogue’s head with his vorpal sword! It was kind of disappointing, though, because their cleric waved her hand, and his head was reattached like nothing had ever happened. But Baphomet was probably more disappointed than me – if he’d finished off the human I think his term of service to Him was done. Of course, he was really disappointed about two seconds later – they killed him.

“I bet they figured they were done with the stupid meteor swarms and wilting now that he was dead, but they were wrong, because it’s completely unreasonable to think that Frillicus wouldn’t notice a balor exploding in Orcus’ fortress. So it was right back to more of the same, until they were through the mazes and up to the tower. I thought for a second they were going to fight the dragon after all, because the big fighter was yelling at the sky and waving his sword around, but somebody said something and he ran into the tower with everybody else.”

”Where they were no doubt greeted by Mordel,” Klavicus interjected, “who politely showed them around the ground floor, explained any of the Battle Arena rules that wouldn’t actually help them play effectively, and left them wondering how a demon could possibly be a monk. Then they moved on to the Arena.”

”About sixteen hours later,” Dimwold grumbled. “I almost left, but it’s not like they can skip the Arena once they get there, so I waited around.”

”And once they emerged on the board, I gather from the body count that they found themselves arrayed against the kelvezu Mordel, the half-ogre Quah-Nomag, the vampire Kauvra, and the lich Harthoon.”

”And Him,” Dimwold added.

“And he was carrying the Wand?” Klavicus asked.

The mephit nodded. “I’ve heard He’s had it ever since Banak ruined the conquest of Blasingdell.” 

Not that it was entirely the cleric’s fault, Klavicus mused. When Pelor and Fharlanghn notice a pair of loaded dice, the bet becomes much less of a sure thing. “When I met them, they were mildly impressive,” the balor said, ”but not a match for me. Or him, I would think.”

“No,” Dimwold agreed. ”I think He came out to toy with them.” And gauge their strength, Klavicus thought. “And the looks on their faces when they saw Him across the board from them were pretty funny. The fighter especially looked like he just plain didn’t believe it.”

“Tell me about the battle. Carefully. Accurately. No hyperbole.”

Dimwold opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it and took a quick swallow of brandy. “The planetar, wizard and cleric just stood there.”

“Waiting for incoming spells. Go on.”

”The psion with the floating blade said, ‘Nice knowing you,’ and then was suddenly standing all the way on the other side of the board, next to Harthoon. She hit him a couple of times, then Orcus imprisoned her in a cage of force walls before calling in a couple of dozen wraiths. Kauvra summoned a flock of her dire bats, then started to close with the fighters, but their rogue joined the psion attacking Harthoon. Orcus and Quah-Nomag the Skull King are standing right there, and they’re totally fixated on this lich. Weird. And Quah-Nomag surrounded the big fighter and the mage in a black toxic cloud, although it didn’t seem to do much, following it up with with yet another wilting spell, which I thought was kind of funny. Mordel went after the other psion, the really fast one. He stole her weapon out of her hand, then ran away.”

“That is because the other psion is a monk too.”

“Wielding a greatsword?” Dimwold asked, wrinkling his nose.

”Evidently it offended Mordel’s sensibilities as well. I’m not sure why. I suppose it’s a monastic issue.”

”Anyway, Harthoon seemed to do something that made the rogue sick. And that’s about all he got to do, because the cleric raised that horrible staff and the brightest light I’ve ever seen filled all of Thanatos.”

“No hyperbole,” Klavicus warned.

Dimwold squirmed. “Well, it really did fill the whole Arena. And more. When I could see again, the wraiths were gone, the bats were gone, Harthoon was dead, Kauvra was a little pile of ash, and Quah-Nomag looked like he was fumbling a little, like he couldn’t see quite right. Oh, and after that the psion disappeared, and the rogue grabbed her dancing sword and took off after Quah-Nomag.”

“Everyone’s magical effects should have been dropping about now,” Klavicus said.

“I was just coming to that. The adventurers looked annoyed, then I think they figured out it was everybody, not just them. And I think they must have been using some kind of telepathy, because there was suddenly a lot more shouting.

“So Quah-Nomag seemed like himself again, and started dropping violated and unholy spells at his feet, the kind people like the rogue can’t just dodge around. The strange thing was, that floating sword was writhing around like it was taking the damage too.”

”And where was its owner?” the demon asked.

”A couple of seconds later she just appeared standing next to it. I have no idea how she got out of that cage.”

Klavicus thought for a moment about how close the relationship between the psion and her strange bastard sword might be. And the sword wasn’t in the cage…”I do. But go on.”

”So the rogue started slicing away at Quah-Nomag. Doing a lot of damage, too, damage that kind of seemed to stick to him, if you know what I mean. Like the weapon was still in the wound. And the planetar was watching the Skull King like she didn’t like the spells he was casting, and she kind of apologized to the rogue, then hurled some spell of law in that direction. And all of a sudden Quah-Nomag was just standing there, looking kind of dazed.

“Meanwhile Mordel and the psionic monk were going at each other. And it was like monk battles always are – they knock each other around a lot, but when it gets right down to it nobody ever hits anybody, because they’re too good at guessing where the next punch is going to land and getting out of the way. But the big fighter started heading in that direction, so I was hoping that some good ganging up would start happening soon.”

”And Orcus?” Klavicus asked.

“After the cleric flipped the big light switch, He looked like He wasn’t playing around anymore. From the gestures he was making, I think he was going to stop time and pulverize everyone. But the spell didn’t work. He must have caught the wizard grinning or something because He started bearing down on him like He was going to knock him all the way to the Nine Hells.”

”And did he?”

“No, the wizard ran away. The big fighter came back, though, and took a chunk out of Him. He looked even angrier then, and howled, ‘You again!’”

”So the rogue killed Quah-Nomag?”

“He would have, but the Skull King had managed to heal himself before he was stunned. It didn’t matter, though – once the psion showed up again she cut him in two with one hit. By now they’d all figured out that if two people stand on a square for too long it starts to wobble, so she and the rogue got out of there fast and went to help their monk friend. Mordel had put a finger on her, and now no matter what the monk did, she couldn’t get rid of him. And it wasn’t for lack of trying – she ran all over the board trying to shake him off. The best part was when the rogue and the psion realized that when they tried to hit Mordel, he could swing around and make them hit their friend instead. I think he really didn’t want anyone to interfere. Their friend kept shouting she didn’t care, hit them anyway, but no one would. I think that made her kind of mad.”

“And Orcus?” Klavicus asked, a little impatiently.

“Oh yeah. Well, while all this was going on, the planetar made herself really big. Bigger than Him, even, and her weapon grew with her. Then she shouted to the wizard to get ready, and she rushed Him. There was this struggle between the two of them, and then His weapon was lying on the ground at His feet. And the wizard made some gestures, and suddenly the weapon shot across the board and was at his feet instead.      

“Then He tried to cast a spell – I think to move faster – but their cleric actually smiled and said, ‘I don’t think so,’ and it fizzled. Then He kind of seemed to lose control of Himself, and started beating on the planetar with His bare hands. It looked kind of weird – I don’t know exactly why.”

”Perhaps because he exposed himself for the petulant creature he often is, a ten-foot-tall child kicking at his unimpressed, twenty-foot-tall mother.” Klavicus could vividly imagine the scene.

Dimwold decided not to comment on that. ”Anyway, everybody ran to either the cleric or the wizard again, and the psion fighter picked It up from the wizard’s feet. She and the wizard disappeared, then everyone else did. So there was nobody alive in the Battle Arena but Mordel and Orcus, and for a second He just stood there screaming curses at the planetar, the wizard and the fighter.” Dimwold looked puzzled. “It’s not as if He won’t raise all of his lieutenants though, and He lets the Wand go all the time. He’ll get it back eventually.”

“Harthoon will be all right, his phylactery is around somewhere. But if that cleric’s spell is what I think it was, Kauvra is gone forever. And I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for Quah-Nomag to rejoin us in the land of the living,” Klavicus snorted.

Dimwold was confused. ”But he brought Him back to life after He, um, after He wasn’t alive anymore.”

“And has Quah-Nomag ever let Orcus forget it?”

The mephit shook his head. ”He talks about it all the time.”

”Exactly. As for why he’s so angry, letting your wand go is one thing. Having it stolen from you – especially by that particular group of individuals – is an entirely different matter.”

“But what could they possibly want with it?”

Klavicus sighed. “I must confess that perplexes me. If only I knew where they went.”

The little elemental grinned smugly. “I can tell you that. Sort of.”

”Sort of?” the demon thundered. “What is that supposed to mean? And if I don’t like your answer I’ll stuff you in that trapped chest out front with all the other junk I leave for greedy adventurers to find.”

The smile vanished. ”I just mean that when He was done screaming, He opened a gate. I could see through it, and they were all standing around. Except the planetar. But I didn’t recognize where they were.”

Klavicus nodded. “The planetar spirited the wand away. Now about where they -”

Dimwold gulped, then said in a rush, ”Noshedidn’tthepsionstillhadit.”

The demon started to yank him out of his chair, then realized what he’d said. “Where was she?”

“I don’t know,” the mephit squeaked. ”The only thing I saw besides the six mortals and two dragons was a big sword lying on the ground. The monk and the rogue were looking at it kind of sadly.”

Dragons? Klavicus felt a splitting headache coming on from trying to make sense of this story. And an unattended sword? He thought for a moment of the almost mind-numbingly powerful greatsword the psion had been carrying when they met, then chuckled. Sometimes it seemed to him that the celestials had as wicked a sense of humor as any demon prince. ”Tell me what else you saw. What color were the dragons? What was the landscape like?”

”One was bronze and one was gold, I think. The sky was dark, with lots of stars. And they were standing next to water, but the water was a funny color – kind of purplish. Then the cleric waved her hand, and everything changed. It was daylight, and the people and the dragons were gone, and all I could see was a big factory and a lot of smoke. Then everything went away, and there was nothing but the Arena. And Orcus swore some more, then he and Mordel went away too, and the Arena disappeared.”          

“The cleric must have put up another gate – clever. Then both the gates were closed. As for where they were…” Klavicus closed his eyes and was silent for a long moment, then began to recite, “‘We set out upon the wine-dark sea, ‘neath the silvery stars, the gold guard sailing the skies.'” He turned and spat into the fire. “Celestia. Bahamut. Of course.” Everything was clear to him now.

The look of confusion hadn’t left the mephit’s face. ”But what would Bahamut want with it?”

“You don’t read enough,” the balor scolded. ”Legend has it that the Wand of Orcus was forged with Bahamut’s blood.”

“So?” 

”Stop thinking that the celestials are so utterly different from us. They have pride, and anger. Use your imagination. If you were a deity and someone had stolen your blood to make an item that spread peace and fellow feeling throughout the land, what would you do?”

Dimwold bounced in his chair with indignation. ”Why, I’d teach them a lesson. I’d take it away from them, and I’d -” he stared wide-eyed at Klavicus, and concluded haltingly, “I’d, uh, break it into a million pieces. You don’t really think – ?”

The demon smiled thinly. ”If I were Orcus, I’d start looking for a new toy. Because I don’t think Bahamut is going to let him have this one back.”