The Ivory Palace

The Defenders of Daybreak walk alone through the Kingdom of the Ghouls.

They continuously step around fallen and rotting bodies. The vast scale of death is deceptive; the number of dead only begins to truly register when they stop to think to themselves for the thirtieth or hundredth or thousandth time, "Oh, another corpse." Some of the ghoulish bodies fell violently in hand-to-hand combat with possessed ghouls, others were utterly crushed by Elder's massive bulk, but most spontaneously deanimated in the instant that the new God of Undeath ascended. However they perished, it's obvious to the Defenders that the ghoulish threat is ended. The long ago promise to T'Cri is fulfilled, and the spine of the White Kingdom is finally destroyed.

Like conquering heroes in a bardic tale, the Defenders initially keep their eyes open for particularly tempting loot. The primal joy of looting fallen foes begins to dim as they peel a beautiful necklace or a glittering ring from a maggot-ridden corpse again, and again, and again. Eventually they just leaves the riches gleaming on the sprawled bodies and pass on without comment. Doubtlessly some other creature will come here and discover the vast wealth left behind. For now, the Defenders have had their fill of looting corpses.

They stroll through the different neighborhoods of Nacreous, passing the mausoleum-like dwellings of craftsmen and weaponsmiths and butchers, until they eventually find themselves standing before the ornate doors of the Royal Palace. Huge adamantine golems loom twenty feet tall as they guard the closed portals. The building itself seems to lean towards them hungrily. Corpselight glimmers gray-green around its edges.

"We're not done yet," says Velendo. "According to the prophetess Silissa, that earth creature we saw in Mrid, we have one more task to be sure this doesn't happen again. What was it she said?"

Agar remembers the words exactly, spoken just as the group left the dwarven vaults of Mrid for the chaos of Akin's Throat.

"She said 'The White Kingdom is ruled by the unborn son of the Goddess Imbindarla, She who was once to be Goddess of Night, but failed. He is called Gl'Yuut, and was carved unborn from her earthly womb by members of the Brotherhood of Night. He rules the Kingdom of the Ghouls, and the children he has created spread forth throughout the sunless caverns to slay and devour and conquer all they find. If he is destroyed along with his closest cadre, and the entrance to the cyst sealed, the spark that drives the ghouls shall fade as well. They worship he and his mother, although only one of them is worthy of worship. The two share no loyalty; slay one, and they shall fall and be devoured, with all that might entail.' I think I got that right."

Cruciel raises her perfectly arched eyebrows. "Nice memory."

"Thanks."

Velendo snorts. ". . and be devoured. That makes a lot more sense after the fact."

"Prophecies always do. That's why they're prophecies, and not recipes."

"What's this cyst the prophecy talk about?" Malachite looks down towards Agar, and then over to Velendo.

"I don't know. Let's find out." Velendo casts find the path, and his magical senses point him into the palace. "We're in the right place, at least. It's in here someplace."

"Past those golems." Mara looks up, and up, at the adamantine shapes. "I'm sorry Tao disappeared in the middle of the night."

"Maybe we don't actually have to fight them." Even Velendo's voice reveals that he doesn't actually believe it.

"Nice wishful thinking." Galthia stretches. "Okay, back up and get your spells ready. I'm going to dart in and out and try to lure one of them away from the doorway. Let's see how far they'll move from it." He grimaces. "I'll try not to get hit."

Stone Bear snorts. "Good thinking."

Galthia sprints up to the doors. As expected, the golems animate with the sound of rasping metal. They reach down with their massive fists. . . and swing wide the massive portals into the palace. Galthia stops in his tracks, face full of surprise.

"Huh. Well, that was unexpected."

The rest of the group joins him and stares through the doorway. A brand new bright red carpet marks the path where conquering royalty should tread. It leads down the ornately decorated hall and up a ramp into another archway sixty feet ahead. Glimmering balefire dances across massive chandeliers and lights a score of zombies dressed as honor guards. Ten zombies stand on either side of the red carpet, impassive, each carrying something in their swollen and rotted hands.

Malachite whips Karthos from his sheath and brandishes the sword in front of him as he takes a confident step forward. All the zombies simultaneously raises their. . .

"Trumpets?" asks Malachite in surprise.

. . .and draw in a shuddering breath before playing the fanfare of a triumphal march. Velendo recognizes it as one that Nolin had written years before for the King of Gaunt upon his return from the war at the Penngian Peninsula. The music soars upwards and outwards, welcoming the heroes with honor. Its effectiveness and beauty is only slightly dampened by the muffling effect of maggots choking at least one of the trumpets.

Velendo's mouth twists. "I definitely didn't expect that." The zombie honor guard continues playing as the Defenders edge into the gloomy hall. Malachite releases a positive energy burst of emerald sunlight, and the heralds deliquesce into gobbets of steaming flesh. Twenty trumpets and a host of old bones clatter onto the tile floor.

For a moment, silence returns. Then something moves at the far end of the hall. As if cued, twelve halfling-sized monkeys scamper into the room through a partially open door. Their breath steams in the cold air.

"Someone has dressed them up like us!" Agar's eyes squint. "That one has a stone shield strapped to its arm, and that one has wings, and that one," he swallows, "that one is dressed like Nolin!"

"Not strapped," Velendo's nose wrinkles in disgust. "Spiked to its arm."

"I like it," says Stone Bear. He smiles. "They're just monkeys, judging from their spirits. Nothing more. But someone has style."

Priggle nods. "I'm impressed that they found a blond one for the Mara-monkey."

"This is just strange," says Velendo. "Think this is Soder's work? Or someone else's?"

"Probably Soder's. There's one for each of us," says Priggle. "Even me." He seems oddly cheered by the realization. The monkeys gambol around the room, swinging on the chandeliers and chattering at one another. They don't seem hostile. Carefully and in battle formation, the group moves through the room and up the ramp. The monkeys largely ignore them.

Weapons clutched in sweating hands, the Defenders move to the end of the hall and swing open the door.

Galthia is the first to react. "Dragon!"

"I bid you welcome, and extend the congratulations of my lord and master The Dark Hunger, God of Undeath, eternal King of Shambling Oblivion." A mummified form in wizard's robes sits in the middle of the Great Hall, resting upon the paw of the huge zombie dragon that the group has now fought twice. The corpse's eyes are bright yellow. The dragon's unblinking eyes are a dark gray.

"Soder." Malachite's tone is grim as he lifts his sword. "You've changed bodies again, but that's not going to help."

The ghoulish ambassador waggles a cautionary finger at him. It falls off. "No need for violence, boy. I don't like you, but I am not here to fight you." He stands up and stretches out his arms. "Rather, I am here to offer you gifts from both myself and my new God. I have been chosen as divine proxy, to stand by the right hand of The Dark Hunger and do his bidding upon Spira. The Dark Hunger has blessed me with a tiny fraction of his power, and I will guide and aid him in the eons to come. I have been blessed."

Malachite folds his arms. "Do tell." He snorts. "The Dark Hunger? Is that what Teliez's calling himself now?" "More like the Dork Hunger," he thinks over the mindlink, and gets a ripple of mental laughter in response.

"Just like Teliez. What do we do about this?" asks Velendo. "If the Puppeteer really is the new servant of Teliez, I'm not sure we want to fight him. Especially when his God is currently positively disposed to us."

"We can take him," thinks Burr-Lipp. The bullywug stares at Soder with bulging, hate-filled eyes.

"I'm not so sure," thinks Malachite. "We can certainly destroy his body. Then he leaps into the dragon again, and when we destroy that he leaps into another one. We have to find his essence, either his original form or his phylactery, in order to destroy him for good. I'm not sure that my true death ability will work on a possessed corpse."

"Grrrp."

"Well, he doesn't seem to want to fight us," thinks Mara. "We may want to listen to him and THEN kill him if we need to."

"I think we're on Teliez's good side right now," thinks Priggle. "Velendo's right. Killing his new servant may change that. Then he'll take it out on all the deep gnomes, destroying us while leaving all you humans in peace."

"I doubt it, Priggle. But so what if Teliez is fond of us?" asks Malachite silently. "He's still the Enemy. He's just a relatively inexperienced one."

Soder is still talking out loud while the group communes with each other mentally. "The Dark Hunger also grants his blessing to you, and shall spare those dear to you as a sign of His favor. He also grants you this gift to do with as you will. Kill it or take it home as a souvenir, as you prefer." Soder sweeps his hand back to encompass the zombie dragon and the palace behind it.

The paladins blink. "What?" asks Mara. "We get the dragon?" The dragon doesn't move, but Soder nods his head. Something falls from his scalp and scuttles into the shadows.

"Yes. And the monkeys. Did you like the monkeys? That was my own touch. I wanted to make things homey for you when you got here. I thought you'd like seeing them."

"I liked little Nolin," says Stone Bear.

"You did? Me too. It's nice to have people appreciate your hard work." The corpse looks wistful.

"This is surreal," mutters Velendo.

"Anyways, they're yours, one for each of you. I gated them in from some alternate Prime as a thank you gift. And you can have whatever you can find and keep in the palace, and in the city. The Dark Hunger destroyed most of the ghouls here when he left, because he wanted to make your lives easier." An evil smile crosses what remains of Soder's face. "I wouldn't dither, though, if I were you. I helped create the magical wall that protects this city from the spectral cloakers. It won't last for long without me here."

"How long?" asks Agar, worried. "An hour? A week?"

"Somewhere between the two, I think."

"Why isn't Teliez himself. . excuse me, 'The Dark Hunger,' here to greet us?" Velendo's voice is weighed with scorn and disapproval. "He's a God now. Surely he can make the time."

"He is indeed a God." Soder's voice is satisfied.

"Thanks to us." Soder just stares at the old priest until Velendo finally frowns. "Okay, fine, he's doing other things."

"More important things. Securing his birthright. Gathering his power. Helping people who are dying."

"I'm sure he is," says Malachite sarcastically, but Soder doesn't elaborate. "Mind if we kill that dragon now? Again?"

"If you want to. It doesn't matter to me either way. I also have a special gift for you." Seeing their looks, Soder shakes his head then props it back upright with one hand. "Not that kind of gift. Not the kind that kills you. My most precious treasure. It's in my quarters, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather have it than you. We've had our little tiffs now and then, but you were Nolin's friends. He was going to. . . well, no matter. I'm leaving material things behind, and this is more valuable than anything else. It's now yours, and I'm sure it will serve you well."

"What is it?" asks Galthia suspiciously.

"I'd hate to ruin the surprise." Soder stands up. "Is there anything else? My Master needs me, and I should be going. I've destroyed or deactivated all the guardians and traps I have control over."

Everyone pauses. "No," says Malachite tightly, watching Soder with hatred. "I think that's it. I suspect we'll meet again."

"I suspect we will." He stops to consider something. "Make Nolin's memorial service a memorable one."

"Oh," says Velendo, "have no doubt about that."

Soder nods once in thanks, and the undead eyes leech of color. Malachite swings his holy sword to chop the zombie's head from oozing shoulders. A few twitches, a few seconds of thumping as legs kick against polished tiles, and it's over.

"Before we kill the dragon," says Agar, "we may want to use it as a guard against those spectres should any of them get through. Can we send it outside for now? We can always destroy it later." It takes some convincing, but the threat of the protective wall collapsing takes precedence. Priggle rides the undead dragon outside and positions it to attack anything coming towards the palace.

"Where's this great treasure of Soder's?" asks Stone Bear.

"He gestured that way," points Galthia. "Let's go see."

"I don't want to take too long," says Velendo. "My find the path spell to this cyst, or whatever it is, won't last forever."

"We'll just check. We've got a lot of looting to do, and we might as well start with Soder." They tread through the polished stone halls of the palace, making their way past grotesque art and disturbing tapestries.

"It may be a trap, remember," cautions Malachite. "Everyone ready?" Everyone concurs.

Malachite reaches out and swings open the vast door.