Room by room we made our way through the vaults, taking items of interest or use to us. There was a room full of poisons created by vile and magical means that we did not bother with, as none of us had the skills to use them safely. Likewise, a room full of grafts, living tissue designed to replace one’s own flesh, was not something we wished to partake in. The same could be said of the room full of spell components, designed to bolster one’s spells. Oh, they were useful enough, in theory, but Vestele warned that they all had an aura to them, and carrying them would mark us to anyone sensitive to such things.

There were equipment pieces of all types, of course, and we took our pick of the best pieces from them, so that we could combine them later. A room of Forbidden Texts caused the sisters to cackle with glee, and entire shelves worth of books were shoveled into their bags of holding, for later perusal. A similar scene happened in a room containing grimoires of wicked spellcasters reaching all the way back to the days of the Witch Kings of Neltharil.

In one room, we saw shelves of items that had been possessed by demons. The items boasted great power, as one might expect, but using them allowed the demon inside to whisper into your mind. These were ancient and powerful demons, and all too eager to have a new vessel to house their intellect. None of us were too keen to constantly fight against the demon inside for dominion of our own bodies. Still, we did take a few of the items. After all, we might need a few more souls to sacrifice for the ritual, and no one would miss these demons.

Siora’s Spot Check: 1d20+40 = 58 (Success)

Siora’s Disable Device Check: 1d20+44 = 51 (Success)

Siora’s Open Lock Check: 1d20+35 = 39 (Success)

We were about to leave the room when we saw a chest in the corner, hidden behind one of the shelves. Siora knelt by the chest, looking for traps, which she quickly found. A matter of moments, and the magic trap was disabled, and the next moment the lock, an irregular thing with three ‘prongs’ going out at equal angles from the center, came undone.

“Well, that was nasty.”

I raised an eyebrow at the beguiler. “What do you mean, Siora? You handled it well enough.”

“Yes, but that is because I’ve kept up with my training through the years. If I hadn’t, well, that trap was designed to summon something very nasty, which would eat and consume all magic in the area. Including those who have magic. Someone didn’t want whatever is in this chest surviving, even when banished to the plane of shadow, like the rest of the vault.”

Alvar, God’s Bane

Type

Simple Two-handed

Weight

3 lb

Damage

1d8+6

Damage Type

Piercing

Critical

19-20/x4

Range

20 ft.

This spear was made with a darkwood shaft and a head of cold iron. While that alone would be enough to make it deadly in the right hands, it is also the prison of the fallen angel turned demon Alvar the Unrepentant. Alvar was imprisoned after he attempted to lead a rebellion in heaven, and cast down the gods, before the Hells had formed, and during a time where the Abyss was still ruled by the Obyriths. The exact nature of the rebellion is lost to time, but it is known that it failed, and Alvar was sentenced to eternal imprisonment within the spear he carried during the rebellion, and that destroying the spear would free him to carry on his work.

+6 Enhancement to Attack and Damage

Indestructible – This weapon cannot be damaged or destroyed by any means save by divine action.

Keen – Critical range is doubled.

Devastating – Critical multiplier increased by 1.

Undeterred – This weapon ignores all damage reduction or damage immunities the target possesses.

Unholy Power – Deals +3d6 unholy damage to good creatures, and target gains 1 negative level. On a critical hit, deals 12d6 unholy damage and four negative levels. Bestows three negative levels on any good creature trying to wield it.

Godslayer – Can score critical hits, even against creatures that are immune to critical hits. On a confirmed critical hit against a being of Divine Rank 1 or higher, that creature is automatically slain. Slaying a divine being in this way shatters the spear. If the divine being is Divine Rank 6 or higher, the demon’s soul is consumed in the process, rather than being freed.

“Oh, by Auril’s frosty mane!” I shuddered as I read the description of the weapon. “I can see why someone wouldn’t want this getting out in the world. The ability to kill a god? Even without all the other stuff on this weapon, it would be far too tempting for people to use, if it were left lying around.”

“Put that in your bag, Mel, and don’t let anyone see it. Don’t even talk about it again. Forget you have it, until it is needed most.”

Turning to look at Vestele, I said, “Well, I get that waving it around would be bad, but to that extent?”

The priestess nodded. “The prophecy. ‘Upon the day that fire comes to the sea of ice, a woman with golden hair shall bring about the death of a god.’ This must be part of the prophecy. But if you advertise the existence of that spear, whoever comes will be ready for you.”

“And a prepared foe is a foe that is far more dangerous than they appear,” I nodded. Slipping the spear into my pack, I said, “Very well, let’s—”

Three cries interrupted me. Leaving the room, we saw that, in the one area we had not yet investigated, there were three cages. In order, the cages contained a Succubus, an Erinyes, and a female Rakshasa. In unison, they cried out, “DOOM! DOOM AND DEVASTATION! THE GODSLAYER IS TAKEN! THE GODSLAYER STIRS! LET ALL KNOW THE TERROR THAT NOW DESCENDS!”

My eyes widened in recognition, and I could see it was the same for the others. Those were the words of prophecy. Which meant that there was at least some power in existence that knew we had just picked up the spear, and probably had a pretty good idea of where we were.

“We need to leave.” Fartooth chirped, saying what we were all thinking in that moment.

All of a sudden, the building shuddered. Not an earthquake. The building was under attack! A roar bellowed through the halls, and it was answered by other roars and calls, some alike, and some different. Then there was a mighty crash, and the ceiling crashed down, killing the three prophets instantly.

As I looked up into the sky above, I gaped at what I saw. There was a flight of shadow dragons, led by a great wyrm, flying through the endless darkness of the Plane of Shadows. Opposing them was a fortress of residents of the plane of shadows, riding upon the back of a tarrasque. And all the while, tendrils of power began reaching out from the shadows of the plane, wrapping around the remains of the vault. For a moment, I had an image of Dark Powers, attempting to drag the vault into some nameless Planes of Dread.

But then the moment passed, and my head cleared. Quickly, I drew the Veilsplitting Blade we had received from the Elves. It was a gift that they did not mind parting with, of little use in the grand scheme of things, but, in this moment, it was a sliver of divine grace that we had it.

Melinda’s Plane Shift check: 10d100 = 42 1000 367 893 666

I slashed the air in front of me, activating the Veilsplit ability. But, for a moment, the blade stuck in the air, as though some Power did not want to let us go. Eventually, the blade made the cut required, and opened the portal. But, in that moment, I felt the Power twist the spell in a fit of pique.

That wasn’t important, however. What was important was that we had a portal back to Izrail, and we needed to get through it. Once we had all slipped through, I looked back, only to see a horde of shadowy beings descending upon the portal from the back of the tarrasque. With a thought, I slammed the portal shut, praying to the Frostmaiden that it would remain so. There were some things not meant for mortal eyes to see.

(Elsewhere)

Gery, Paladin and loyal servant of the Red Knight, was praying when it happened. He had often been in prayer, since they had stopped at Halfgate, and heard the news. He knew that everything was within the Lady’s stratagem, but he did not know what to do.

The healer had only needed a simple examination of Balde to understand the source of the ailment that had seen her unable to keep breakfast down for weeks. It was such an obvious answer, he was loath to admit he had never even considered it before. As a Paladin of the Red Knight, he was supposed to consider all moves, all stratagems, all possibilities. That he had overlooked a possibility was another failing on his part.

Balde was with child. They had been traveling on the road for months, in search of the prophecy, so there had been little time for entanglements. Neither of them had taken lovers while on the road, even though there were no strictures against it in the Lady’s Codex. Those moves simply invoked too many complications, and fouled the strategy when they went wrong.

Because of that, they had both forgotten the herbs which typically prevented unforeseen entanglements and false moves. And yet, there had only been a single night, a single time during this journey that either of them had… indulged themselves in the pleasures of companionship. That one night, with the winged, blonde-haired dancer, who charmed the both of them with her swaying hips and expressive eyes.

Oh, he knew that there was no magic involved. They would have sensed it, known about it when the spell ended. No, the only ‘magic’ was in the woman’s voice, and her breasts, and her…

He shook his head, clearing those thoughts away. After the woman had sat down with them, and brought forth another bottle of wine, the night had grown cloudy. He remembered glimpses, images. Flesh on flesh, bodies intertwined in a three-way dance of exaltation and sensation.

And then he had woken up, the next morning, with his sister’s naked flesh pressed against his chest, her head resting against his, their lips almost touching. His sword still sheathed inside his sister from the night before. His hands upon her back, and her butt.

But they weren’t alone. He remembered the brush of a hand, stroking his balls, a finger running up his member to touch where it disappeared inside his sister. The dancer from the night before licked his ear, causing a shudder to run through his body, and the stiffening shaft, causing his sister to moan into pleasurable wakefulness. And then the shame, as their eyes met, and they realized what they had done.

That was the only time either of them had gotten any kind of physical companionship upon the road. The next few days had been awkward, to say the least, but they had managed to work through the uncomfortable atmosphere. At least until now.

Now, they knew the truth. Balde was carrying his child. Their child. And they knew the prophecies. They spoke of a brother becoming the father, and a duel causing a new kingdom to rise. And then there was sister becoming the mother, and the dark one destroying two kingdoms.

There was a chance that they were not the brother or sister mentioned, of course. Or that only one of those lines of prophecy applied to them. But, for that to be true, then there would have to have been some brother and sister out there that had also crossed the lines that siblings were not supposed to cross, and have a child come from it, sometime in the same time frame.

Two lines of the prophecy had already come true. How much longer would it be until the rest of the prophecy followed? Were there really so many sinful siblings out there?

But that was not what he needed guidance with. Ever since they had learned the truth, the forgotten ‘one night mistake’ had been running through his head, and he could see the same on his sister’s face. Did he have the strength to deny the attraction he was feeling? And did he really want to? The answers eluded him, and so he prayed.

And his prayers were answered by a vision of the Lady, warning of an ancient evil long thought forgotten. Something had stirred it from where it was sealed. A spear with the power to kill a god? Such a thing was unheard of. But it did bring to mind that one line of the previous prophecy, and a golden-haired woman slaying a god.

And then, his thoughts returned once again to the golden-haired dancer that had thrown his life into turmoil. Could such a beautiful creature really be the force of destruction and damnation the prophecy mentioned? No, it was just his emotions playing tricks on him again, as he remembered the night he shared with her, and his sister. Idly, he wondered if she was also carrying his child, but he set aside that fantasy, and returned to his prayers, trying to find his next move.