Planning the Assault

Interlude

A portion of the group sits around a flat boulder, looking at a hastily sketched map of Nacreous. Spirits swirl around them as they hunch over the stone. Within the shadow of a nearby boulder, Stone Bear sleeps restlessly as he recovers from the strain of channeling the spirits. The Ivory King himself had casually bitten off the shaman's head, and when he did the entire group had been flung out of their borrowed undead forms and tumbled roughshod back to their own bodies. Stone Bear had shielded the others by bearing the brunt of the mental and physical strain that accompanied their unplanned return.

"So, the city of Nacreous sits between the raised cliff edge and the back walls of the cavern," Velendo slices his finger through the air over the map, "and there's just empty cavern for an unknown distance once you go over the big drop. We could come into the cavern from that far end and sneak along the base of the cliffs. I think we have divination spells that could lead us there."

Malachite rubs his chin. "It's certainly a better tactical plan than going through those huge gates, if what you said about them is correct. He killed Halcyon, and now we have to kill him. I want every possible advantage on our side."

"Here's a question," pipes up Nolin. "Did anyone get a feel for where the negative energy was coming from? We were feeling small negative energy pulses, and they got much worse once Imbindarla's body arrived. Boy, if we could find the source of that, that would be a big help." The bard looks around at the group hopefully, but no one's face lights up. Nolin shrugs.

"Now it's probably coming from the body itself," says Priggle gloomily.

"It was worth considering."

Agar scratches at the spot on his scalp where Proty is currently pulsing. "We had a prophecy from the earth spirit Silissa on how to destroy them, I think. What was it?" He looks at Nolin.

The bard shrugs again and grins easily. "I hate prophecy when it comes to us."

Velendo gives him a dirty look and hauls out his own sheath of notes, stifling any comment he may have about what real bards think of prophecies. He reads in a tired voice. "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."

"What kind of name is that?" asks Nolin wonderingly.

"Maybe he's a relation to Yuute, the herald of Yorrine who we had to deal with in Eversink. He's dead now, though; Halcyon killed him." Velendo clears his throat and continues. "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."

Mara looks around. "Did anyone see anything while we were there that might be a cyst?"

"The whole cavern?" wonders Galthia.

"I don't think so," muses Velendo. "It has a lot of entrances."

"I think it's the womb from which the Ivory King emerged." Nolin looks confident, a strong counterpoint to Velendo's doubtfilled face.

"The cyst could also be an unnatural growth," chimes in Agar helpfully. "We can try find the path."

"That could be. I say we kill the Ivory King first, and then look for the cyst." He swallows drily. "Let's finish. 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." He blinks. "Well, one has been slain."

"Yes," responds Galthia, "but we didn't do it."

"And fell, and is about to be devoured, with all that entails." Agar frowns in frustration.

"So we had better stop that part," says Mara cheerily.

"What do we want to do about surviving in there?" asks Agar. Malachite looks at him questioningly.

"We have two major environmental hazards," explains Velendo. "All of Nacreous is bathed in negative energy, and it got a lot worse when Imbindarla arrived. The other problem is that the air is not breathable."

"Ohhhhhh," says Nolin wonderingly, his eyes lighting up with inspiration.

Everyone turns to him. "You have an idea?" asks Velendo hopefully. "Tell us!"

Nolin smiles with the dazzling joy of a person who has just had a brilliant epiphany. His eyes are far away, seeing a future occurrence that is perhaps worthy of an epic ballad. "I have my ring. Let's make the Ivory King poop himself!"

Silence. Everyone's eyes widen as they consider the possibilities.

"Wow," sighs Agar over Nolin's laughter. "Wow."

Malachite scowls. "The mission I have been on for a year and a half is going to come down to bathroom humor." He sounds disgusted, but his face keeps trying to twitch into a smile.

Velendo shakes his head. "It probably won't work on undead, but if all else fails, do it."

Nolin grins. "It's the law of dramatic necessity. It'll work. Besides, he probably eats a whole lot, and I doubt he gets enough fiber; I've got to think he'll need it."

Agar looks thoughtful. "Do people count as fiber?"

"Focus!" yells Velendo.

The group settles down and goes on to discuss and plan specific counters to the environmental hazards facing them, a spell named filter ("I just met her!" crows Nolin) and one of Agar's planar spells that might work to protect them. They discuss intricate backup plans, including heroes' feast and miracles and limited wishes. The discussion goes late into the night. Finally, Malachite leans back.

"I wasn't with you, and I don't remember enough of the lore. We know that the Ivory King is unborn, but is he undead?"

"Well," muses Mara without sarcasm, "he's about ten feet around and covered with gross flesh ripples. He certainly looked undead."

"Okay, good. In as much as it is possible, it's a good idea for me to kill him." The group choruses agreement. "If that means not taking the final shot or even healing him somehow so that I can get to him, do it."

"If Malachite can't be the one who delivers the death blow," jokes Nolin, "we'll have Agar cast Tenser's Floating Disk and we'll load the body on so it follows us around. If the King revives and sits back up, we'll have him handy for killing again." The nervous laughter which follows the joke is an indication of how worried everyone is.

"Before we go tomorrow, we should make sure that the others know what our last wishes are." Velendo carefully sits his tired bones down on a boulder. "If we're finished I think I'll stay in heaven. You can always contact my spirit and make sure, though. The question is, what do we do about Saint Morak?"

Stone Bear shudders as the spirit speaks through him. "Well," he says in a quavering voice, "I feel like I must do my part tomorrow. And you do have the most amazing shield." Even with no eyeballs, it's clear that Morak is eyeing Velendo's shield laciviously.

"Err... yes, your holiness. So?" Morak reaches out to touch the shield with Stone Bear's hand, and Velendo is knocked backwards off his rock by a burst of silent light. Holding his shield, he suddenly feels all of Morak's wisdom seeping upwards into him and combining with his own in a tiny voice that provides divine guidance. Hidden mysteries suddenly become clear, and Velendo can feel his will noticeably strengthened. He gasps and stares at the front of the shield; along the border border there is a small, engraved image of Saint Morak moving about.

"He's in my shield! I have a Saint in my shield!" The old cleric sounds incredulous.

"Now you know what it's like for us traveling with you," grumbles Priggle. "It wouldn't be a gnomish saint. Oh, no, they're not good enough. Even if there were any." He clears his throat. "I'll stay dead. I don't have much to live for."

Mara turns to him. "Priggle, of course you do!" The deep gnome looks slightly mollified.

Mara turns. "I do want to come back. Nolin, you don't want to be resurrected, right?"

"Right. I'll be with Rides The Sun, and I expect to be having too much fun in the afterlife."

"Hmmph." Agar looks at him. "We'd miss you, and you'd miss us. I'll come back! Heck, I already did once. " He looks around at Stone Bear. "Hey Claris, do you want to come back to life?" Stone Bear's head twists unnaturally as Claris speaks through his mouth.

"I do. I have my daughter to care for. If I pass beyond, Nolin will have to make arrangements for her."

"Fair enough," sighs Velendo. "I'll be pleased to true resurrect you once we're done here."

"Thank you. I may be able to repay you by helping tomorrow." Claris explains her plan, and the group goes around and recounts each of their last wishes. Finally, it's clear that it's becoming late.

"We have three or four hours of fast windwalking ahead of us tomorrow," considers Galthia. "We should sleep."

"Is it safe?"

Velendo looks around. "We have Saint Morak with us. I think it's safe."

They sleep soundly and safely in the holy cavern. In the morning, they awake to find that the cavern has silently transformed around them into a fortified stone temple. Altars to Calphas and Aeos stand at either end, and from what looks like a skylight in the ceiling sunshine – real sunshine – shines in.

"We've been blessed," mouths Velendo.

And in his shadow, the guardian angel Cruciel smiles to herself. It's been a busy night and her arms are tired, but it's definitely been worth the effort.