Game Thread Final Round Showdown! - Page 3

pianoman90 · #31 Aug 20th, 2016, 06:04 AM

Jorgum of the Sharp Fang

Jorgum was furious.

They had come so far, made vast inroads into the problem at hand, yet still they went round in circles. Ignatius, the infuriating cleric, had suggested exactly what Jorgum himself had, mere minutes before. Had they not dismissed his first two pillars already? "We cannot become the jugglers too-this is known. That is precisely what the previous heroes did, and we do not change anything!" Anger flashed across Jorgum's features as he imagined Haluk's sacrifice wasted for another time. "And who is to say that we gain anything like 15 years again? Perhaps the time between incidences is exponential-what if we only gained 15 weeks, or mere hours? What if there were no confluence of events that led to four more heroes to come to this very spot? What if next time, something went wrong and the dragon of time devoured all the heroes? We have to think as if we are the only ones who can save this, we cannot pass the responsibility on." Thomas understood-he was an ally in this train of thought, even if the boy was distracting himself and the others with his illusory balls.

And Rimoka's idea had merit. The third option might be the best, but how to tease it out? The Steward had not given any indication that there was any sort of deception-through Jorgum's own probing he had revealed nothing, not even a slip. Jorgum would be the first to admit he could have missed something, but they had to start from some position of trust, yes? What good was any of this without trust? Jorgum grabbed a small pile of nuts, crunching them loudly while waiting for another break in the debate railing around him.

"We have discussed ourselves into a corner, where nothing is being achieved. The Steward and Qara have given us their information, they are unlikely to give more. How could we draw out anything from them? Do we expect them to suddenly spit out hidden truths that the rest of us have missed? What we know is just about as much as we will know-there will be nothing more coming. The only thing we can do now is decide what is to be believed and what isn't."

Jorgum crunched down a few more nuts, watching the Steward and Qara closely. "If we start from a position of lies, where does that get us? If both the Steward and Qara have been misleading us, if Follaus was correct and these two are the Kings of Time, then they must die. This seems to be the most logical conclusion-death to these two here would end this problem completely. The fable of the juggler would be untrue, the threat of the Great Old Ones equally pointless. The whole charade could come tumbling down and the secret of the puppet-master would finally be revealed. We would walk away from this mess, our job done-Hah! We could even release these creatures above, trapped here against their will by these pair. What I wouldn't give for Haluk to be returned to me." Emotion tugged at Jorgum's throat, and he swallowed another handful of nuts to cover the slip.

"But I have to ask, why? What point would both Qara and the Steward have to lie? What could they gain from this? Are they truly trapped here, needing our help to be released? Follaus sent us to stop the Kings of Time being released, the assumption there being that they could release themselves regardless if we were there or not. So why did the Steward set up the pathways for us to be here? It just beggars belief.." Incredulity and fatigue crept into Jorgum's features as he considered the amount of mistrust in the group. "And what if we believe them? The juggler, the beings of Chaos, Order and the rest, the end of the multiverse. The Steward has gone to extraordinary lengths to drag us here, and again I must ask why? If this is true, the answer is obvious, is it not? Ignatius-you wish to be a hero. Can you not see this path takes us directly there? Imagine... The fight for ultimate freedom, released from all that tethers us. If we defeat these old ones, Chaos will not reign, oh no. Nothing will be in power-nobody will hold the reins and 'absolute free will' will be allowed to commence.

Just think... Imagine this power that the rest of you seem to be afraid of-imagine if that power was diverted in some small way into every living creature across all the universes. Imagine if everyone had their choice to do and be exactly what they wanted, create their world to their hearts desire.."

Eyes shining, Jorgum once again crushed more nuts in his mouth. Swallowing them quickly, he rounded off with another impassioned statement, watching the faces of his compatriots and urging them to consider his words. "In the end, decisions must be made. Your third option, Rimoka, the one that eludes you, was only discovered once both first and second were exhausted. There was no way that you could have known of the dragon's whereabouts before testing both of your theories-based on hard evidence. You trusted in what you saw, what you felt was true. If you had stood there, wondering about the third option, your quarry may well have escaped you. Inaction and indecision will never reveal that which cannot be seen. We must go forward.

If it turns out to be the wrong course... We. Will. Fix. It! This much I am certain of-we are the heroes who have survived this far, we can go further. But we must go further now, and cease this to-and-fro arguing. It achieves nothing and endangers everything.

So what do we do? Do we draw our swords and take the first option? Do we trust those who have spent so much to get us here, and go be heroes like young Thomas would have us be? Sieze the moment to escape like Rimoka would do? Or do we take the third option and endlessly debate where the Dragon is hiding, perfectly ignoring our senses right up until he flattens us all?"

Avner · #32 Aug 20th, 2016, 08:27 AM

Adults.

They are so stupid.

Thomas couldn't believe it. There they were arguing for longer than he would care to admit about the same thing over and over and yet the only thing they agreed not to do was the one thing they were doing. Adults were always like that weren't they? Thinking they knew so much of how the the world worked and how you should be, but never doing it themselves.

What was it his dad used to say? Right Do as I say, not as I do

What a bunch of garbage? If its such a great idea why aren't they doing it? It wasn't until now the little blue boy realized, they thought they were.

I guess that's what kids are for, to show them what imbeciles they were being. Little tiny mirrors walking around as reflections of themselves that they couldn't deny. Thomas thought.

At least until they turned into little blue demons and tried to save the world.

"Enough!"he shouted putting a little bit of his power behind his voice to get their attention. Adults were like that, you had to make sure they were listening or they would just go about doing whatever it was they thought was more important.

"Don't you see what you're doing? The one thing we all agree on is that we can't do nothing yet you sit around here and argue and do just that?!"

Thomas looked around the table. "Rimoka, you claim to be a fierce warrior but you speak more like a philosopher. Answers are great, they help us make decisions, but even I know that in life you don't get all the answers you want. So no we won't know exactly what is going to happen if we change the game, Steward ALREADY said that. What we do know is what happens if we don't." Thomas then turned on the priest.

"Ignatius, you brought up some good points, but most have been answered the best they can. We can not take the ultimate power but like Jorgum said, what has happened can not maintain. Would you suffer the end of the multiverse for fear of someone else being in power? I don't think so. You should be our inspiration and our conscience as we move forward, but forward we must move."

Looking over at Jorgum the boy realized he had judged him true from the start. Thomas had chosen his seat very carefully and the hobgoblin had proven to be a good ally.

"Jorgum, you know the the importance of action. Steward has answered our questions more than Follaus ever would. I don't have much to go on but I trust him. Like you said, he doesn't have anything to gain from inviting us here just to try to dissuade us from the truth. The power should be in every living thing through the multiverse. We can make that happen."

Thomas looked at the attractive woman smoking the 'cancer sticks' and coughed a bit as some of the smoke came near him. "You've seen what happens when you choose the other path. Come with us."

Finally he looked toward them all again.

"Don't do as I say... do as I DO." Turning toward Steward he finally comitted to action. "I'm in old man, tell me what to do. How do I free Ivan and the others and save the multiverse?"

wodine · #33 Aug 20th, 2016, 02:13 PM

Belle nuit, ô nuit d'amour The hobgoblin and the boy were emotional wrecks. They would be excellent audience members, Ignatius could tug their hearts about from happiness to sorrow to cathartic relsease, but as heroes to save or endanger the world; they were fools. Dangerous, dangerous fools. There you go making the assumptions we were not supposed to make Jorgum. Suppose the peace only last a few weeks? Suppose it lasts forever? Suppose everything we’ve been told is an elaborate ruse to make people jump on board with a plan that WE KNOW NOTHING ABOUT! The cleric had been calms and collected up to this point but this was lunacy. People were making decisions that may affect the course of reality itself based on half-truths, smokescreens, and flat out lies.

This Steward was the worst kind of villain. He was not aggressive, not threatening; merely manipulative. He was giving the heroes just enough rope to tie their own nooses, and some of them were willing to walk right up to the gallows. Whether he was demon – devil – or something worse Ignatius could not be sure, but he oozed ambition from every poor, his eyes waiting for the chance to use those heroes gathered here as pawns, and people were playing right into his game; whatever it happened to be. He would be a fine and twisted villain for Ignatius’ opera, though he would require a mask, to be certain the eyes could be enhanced, those dark eyes looking for weakness in thee heroes so he can capitalize and put whatever scheme he has in motion. Ignatius looks each of the heroes in their eyes briefly.

If we are done discussing then let me be frank. We have found no third avenues, and that is mostly because of the purposeful ambiguity of the steward and his favorite guest. That leaves us with the two original options. Option one: We repeat the past, three of us are locked away in amber, trapped, but guaranteeing continuation of the multiverse for an undefined amount of time, but life will continue. Option two: We go about a plan that we know nothing about, which may or may not work, which could lead to the ending of all eternity; which might be able to stop this repetitious process, or might do something unknown all together. Trusting in a man who has given us quite literally no reason to trust him, who we’ve been told was a selfish evil who would try to manipulate us. That is our choice. Option one or two. Only a fool would select option two, The cleric shoots a look to the demon boy. Jorgum you say if we choose wrong we can fix it? If the worst happens from option two then there will be nothing left to fix! You can’t unring the bell, so they say, only in this case there would be no bell left at all!

Ignatius stands, the blood that had been running down his leg has long since dried and the feeling of it as he stands is unpleasant as it thickly stretches along his skin. Uttering a prayer to his Lady, I pledge you in this cup of grief, where floats the fennel's bitter leaf! The Battle of our Life is bright, the alarm,--the struggle,--the relief, then sleep we side by side. Ignatius in filled with radiant golden energies healing himself. Closing all his wounds; Ignatius feels as though he could take on the world; though taking on a single world may not be enough. Looking around the table he collects his wand and his helm. Returning the wand to its place in his bag, Ignatius shakes his head allowing his hair to fall loosely at this sides before sliding his helmet onto his head. Securing the finely crafted mithral into place he looks at the Steward locking eyes. I am ready, cast me in stone or send me home. I will have no part of your plots and machinations. I do not trust you, nor even like you, I will not be privy to the destruction of the multiverse. Perhaps the next round of Kings will find a different solution, but you have not even given me an option.

**Admin Bhelogan** · #34 Aug 20th, 2016, 05:43 PM

Steward stared at Ignatius with his cold dark eyes. He didn’t blink, not even once as the Cleric delivered his rant and stood defiant of his plan. For a moment there was a pause and silence. Ignatius then recognized that the healing power he had summoned from his God was vanishing. His connection to his deity was somehow severed in this place. Whatever power he took with him, when it was spent would be gone forever. The silence was then interrupted by the sound of Steward clapping very slowly.

"Congratulations Ignatius. You have proven yourself to be so brainwashed by your God and your own self-righteousness that you fail to see the powers and players beyond the end of your own nose. I can’t send you home, even if your home was still in existence. Its fate I do not know. As I have said before, we are all stuck here now for eternity. If you wish to spend your eternity sealed in a chamber above, that can be arranged. Would be a waste, though, you do have potential."

The Steward then stood from the table. With a wave of his hand the food had disappeared. The time for feasting was over, and soon the time for action would be at hand. "Thomas, Jorgum, perhaps you two can convince Ignatius to peruse a course other than what he has. I will waste no more words on him. Rimoka, is it fair to say you are on board for now?"

Steward then walked to the wall and waved his hand. A stone shifted position then sunk into the wall. In its place rose a control panel with several leavers and buttons. "I am going to lower the first row of Chambers now. When the come down, you will have to find a panel on their side and enter a code to open them. It is an easy code, simply the number 8. That will open the chamber and release the entity resting inside. Any wishing to take their place instead is free to do so."

Steward was about to pull the leaver when a pink ball of energy flew into the room from one of the many portals on the walls. A voice emanated from the ball, speaking with tone of an overpowering elderly female. "Steward, it is nearly time for the travelers to arrive. I’ve been sent to make sure you are ready for them." It was obvious that the ball of energy had missed the presence of the others already in the room up to this point. It then gasped. "Wait. What have you done? You brought them here even earlier than the appointed time? Oh, you’re going to be in trouble!"

Steward simply kept his smile that had painted his face nearly the entire time that the heroes had been here. "Travelers, let me introduce you to Punctuality. Her job is to try and keep everything around here on time and basically run in circles trying to balance out Mr. Tardy. You questions of the cosmic forces had form. Now you see that they do. They all have an opposite which they battle back and forth in and endless game of teeter-totter which consistently throws the multiverse off balance whenever one temporarily gains the upper hand on the other."

The light quivered in place a bit and started to back off from Steward with a bit of a quiver. "Steward, what is going on? Something seems amiss here."

"We are changing the rules of the game Punctuality. Your services have been deemed obsolete. Most of the travelers who have come this time agree with me. It is their job after all, is it not, to restore balance? I am truly sorry it has to come to this, but the only way to keep balance permanently is to lock away those who keep throwing it out of whack."

The pink ball of energy seemed scared, desperate and confused. She backed away even further from Steward before addressing the Travelers. "Has he talked you into this? Steward is but a servant here, he has no power on his own. Please, whatever he has told you, don’t listen to him! You have to trust me! My services are ESSENTIAL!"

OODMPlayers, it has been a great pleasure to be your GM/DM this final round. The thread will be closing at midnight tomorrow night (Sunday, August 21st). If I get a chance, I will try to make an ending post before that time hits, however this will be the last DM update to which you will have a chance to respond. You have been given one last chance to choose sides here. Will you stand with the old forces that have always governed the universe, or support their overthrowing? More important than that, however, is that this will be your last chance to impress the judges and prove that you deserve to be the winner of Outplay 2016. Good Luck!

pianoman90 · #35 Aug 20th, 2016, 08:58 PM

Jorgum of the Sharp Fang

The Cleric had finally lost it. Jorgum could see why, he was far out of his depth here. It was strange that a man of the cloth could distrust so much, believe blindly one man and then decry the words of the next. Follaus was just as likely to be misleading as the Steward was, that much was certain. So why could Ignatius not see what was so clearly in front of his nose? He had spent so much time talking such flowery language and dedicating to no action that, when crunch time came he could not make the right call. The poor man was a product of his own nonsense.

Thomas had proven himself wise far beyond his years, the boy having understood well the gravity of the situation. He reminded Jorgum of Hooomli, the feathered Syrinx, who also attempted to end the bickering and bring sense and reality back to the conversation. Jorgum would have loved to have Hooomli here, or Corrivander too-those two level heads would be far easier to deal with than this lot. Jorgum chuckled at the thought of the diminuitive Corrivander and the larger-than-life Hooomli seated around this table. They would no doubt have some choice words to say about the outcome of this debate.

Rimoka had kept her head quite well too, the warrioress determined not to be overwhelmed by the situation and to gather just enough information to proceed. But the circumstances had rallied against her, much like Ignatius, and now Jorgum worried that she too would turn away. Nevertheless, Jorgum had higher hopes that she would see the best course of action more truly than Ignatius would, and she would come around quickly enough.

For his part, the Steward had remained resolute. If he was playing the long game, as Ignatius would have them believe, he did it with the patience, tact and skill of a true master. The group had prodded, probed and poked the game master to no avail, leading Jorgum to the only conclusion that fit-he was telling the truth. In the hobgoblin's eyes, this was the only possibility, making what he said a very real danger. The arrival of this 'Punctuality' was more evidence of such. Jorgum had wished from the very beginning to have the power to change the game, and it seemed he had finally reached that point. The gathered power of the four heroes, Qara and the Steward would be more than enough to release those trapped above and alter reality forever. Haluk would be reunited with him, the forces that battled far above their heads would be silenced, and the worlds would be free to rule themselves. Jorgum's eyes shone with anticipation of such an event. In his mind's eye, the future looked bright-a pulsing ball of potential energies, governed only by what they decided here. Everything was possible and who would not want that sort of future? Destiny had never had much play in Jorgum's life except when it seemed to inconvenience him. Now Jorgum was staring down the barrel of a truly free picture, his will would be his own and no-one could tell him otherwise!

Jorgum stood. He looked to the Steward and nodded. He turned to Thomas and nodded. Looking to Ignatius now, Jorgum looked sad. Jorgum and Ignatius had butted heads since the beginning, and for it to end this way was terrible. Jorgum tried one last tack. "Ignatius, you have been afraid since the moment you entered. Afraid of what might have been and what was to be. You let your fear cloud all judgement, allowed it to freeze your actions and destroy your chance of finding solace. Even now you take the coward's way out-do you not see how you delay your actions due to fear? Locking yourself away in one of these caskets is not heroic! No, it is the worst form of debasement. What you really say with that line of action is you cannot possibly face the decisions laid down before you, so you would rather lock yourself away and allow the next poor set of heroes to do your work for you! Take charge of yourself, cleric, before you lose your chance. You wish to be a hero, do you not? Then start acting like one.."

Jorgum moved around the table to where the Steward had indicated the chambers would come down. Taking a breath, he readied himself and spoke to the other two heroes. "Rimoka and Thomas. I know I can count on you both here. Actions must be taken-we are the heroes chosen after all. I will begin to release the previous heroes-if Ignatius truly wishes to bow out and have no part in this, there will be chambers aplenty for him. But you two-you must help those who emerge, aid them in gathering their strength and preparing for what is to come. With this army of old heroes, we will be able to achieve what we came here to do, defeat those primordial forces and set our universes on the right paths once again! No more rifts in time, no more forces that govern our lives, just our own free will and the power to be what we want!"

Jorgum motioned to the Steward. "I am ready. Release the lever and let us begin." His eyes moved skyward, picking out Haluk amongst the faces. Little brother, now is our time. We will fight side-by-side in the greatest battle of them all!

OOCGuys-its been an absolute blast. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would get this far, let alone have this much fun while doing so! You are all champions, and excellent writers! I only wish this adventure could continue-imagine what could have been!

Good luck to you all and thanks to all the DM's, Judges and friends who have accompanied us all!

Khelbiros · #36 Aug 21st, 2016, 06:40 AM

Rimoka slowly rises from the table, and her right hand grabs the haft of her spear, still slicked with dried blood. It's time. It's time for action, to move into battle, to manage the situation like a warrior and handle whatever comes in the current moment.

It's time to enter the distant light.

The CastleEven during her worst years of imprisonment, there was always the distant light from over the mountains.

Inside her husband's castle, Rimoka never had a clear picture of the world outside. She could only see out through the distorted panes of glass, further encrusted by frost. Or she would see glimpses and reflections in her iced-over bowls of water, or in the mirrored fragments he permitted her to have. And from these, she could only imagine the outside world like a distant dream. A dream of mountains and distant light shining down upon them. She knew it was pointless to think about that; she couldn't survive in that place of mountains, cold and ice dragons. If she left the castle, she'd die. She just had to survive and hope that her husband would take pity on her and not hurt her too much. But that still didn't stop her from dreaming. It was a far different fancy than the ones she had as a child where she had dreamed about horses with silver bells, fine clothes and handsome princes. It was just the dream of walking away from the castle into that distant light.

Rimoka holds her spear tightly. She's heard the arguments, heard the passions of Jorgum and Ignatius. The two warriors have circled each other, but neither is giving ground.

Young Thomas is right when he accuses her of thinking; from her previous stance of not-thinking, only reacting, she's done the opposite. She's been talking about matters with her companions over food, as though she was a princess again talking with her tutors and court philosophers and friends who liked those things. Which is fine for a feast, but now....

She's done nothing but to try and figure out the best solution here, only to have it escape her because there's really not enough information to make the perfect decision. She's been too scared of doing the wrong thing that she has almost not done anything.

But now...

It's time.

Distant LightThere was no bell ringing to mark the occasion when Rimoka decided to kill her husband; no omen such as a hawk flying overhead. Just the simple realization that Rimoka was going to kill the Winter King. And that made it the right time.

After she broke his sceptre with nothing but her raw anger, the dragons under Farren's control went berserk and tore down the castle. They smashed the ice windows open. They toppled the white towers down and shattered the walls. And Rimoka, not thinking, ran out of the castle for the first time in nearly fifteen years. Behind her, the great beasts roared and tore her husband's flesh open and Rimoka staggered through the snow, her eyes wide, staring.

The light was all around her. The distant light coming over the mountains.

But now it was real and close. It was sunset. The sky was bruised and purple, and the sun hung in the sky amidst haloes of orange and gold like a bloody heart. The air was fresh and clean and the mountains rose up all around her, terrible and beautiful. And it was everything she ever wanted, everything she had ever hoped for.

Everything was in that light.

Rimoka walks over to Ignatius and places her hand on his arm, "Ignatius, I know you don't want to do this. But I have learned that there are indeed prisoners there, and I'm going to free them. Now is the time. And if it does go wrong, and there is power that the Steward may take into himself, I'll be there to stop it. I'll dam the power if I can, or I'll make sure it goes to all the heroes. But I'll be able to do something."

"I can't stop Jorgum and Thomas; they're committed to this action like a spear that's already been cast. I'm not going to shed their blood. I've learned that we can only change things if we take a stand together. So that's what I'm doing. I'm giving them my support. I'm hoping to free everyone, and I will do whatever it takes to stop a great evil being unleashed if that is what happens. I'm a warrior; decisions are made in split-seconds on the battlefield, and that's how we'll do it now. It's not the ideal solution we wanted, where we had our answers given to us and we were able to make the perfect decision, but it is the best one I can make now." She squeezes his arm gently. "I hope you'll understand this. I hope you'll come stand by us."

Rimoka goes to stand by Jorgum and Thomas. She doesn't need to say anything to them. They know she's made her choice.

And she's ready for whatever will happen, just like she told Ignatius.

If there is a monster, she'll kill it.

If there's power flowing into a tyrant, she'll make sure it goes elsewhere.

But for now, she knows that there's a prisoner in a cage.

She waits for the lever to be released.

Rimoka thinks about her world again, and smiles as she remembers her Scarred Tundra. Where the sunsets last forever in a purple sky. Where the caribou walk across the tundra, cracking the frost open with their sharp hooves to eat on the lichen. Where white dragons wing their way overhead battling and roaring their joy and freedom to the distant mountains around them all. She thinks about how she might never see any of that again; that could all be gone for her forever, the way Ignatius's goddess is gone now.

But she's walked in that distant light once, and she's going to give this creature in the cage a chance to do the same.

"Come out," she will say to whatever is in there. "You're free now."

And maybe they will all see the distant light from over the mountains together.

wodine · #37 Aug 21st, 2016, 08:20 PM

Accompanying MusicAria Finale

Un bel dì vedremoIgnatius stood alone against the coming tide of darkness. It hadn’t surprised Ignatius that Jorgum, the hobgoblin, fell victim to the violent bloodlust of his people. They had little care of anything except military prowess and the possibility of fighting a rebellious uprising against primeval forces was clearly too much for the otherwise seemingly intelligent hobgoblin to ignore. The boy, this Thomas, his following of the Steward was also not surprising. He was young and impulsive, clearly in need of the validation of a father figure whom he could seek in this Steward. But Rimoka, her betrayal wounded him the most. He had seen her as a potential ally against this lunacy. How she had been convinced by these unsubstantiated claims of peace and prosperity for all; when the only person who had so much to gain was the Steward.

The cleric gave no heed to the long winded goblinoids insults, because Ignatius was afraid. He was afraid of what would happen if they went through with their plan. He was afraid that all life could blink out of existence. He was afraid that these fools had been outsmarted by a megalomaniac who would lead them down a road of destruction. He was afraid that these heroes had condemned them all in their pride.

Rimoka was talking now, but Ignatius did not hear the words. Ignatius was somewhere else. A dull thudding in his ears with every word she said, they were not perceived. Ignatius was strolling down the cobbled streets of Greyhawk; gem of the Flanaess. The grey stones beneath his feet made a hollowed echoed ringing with each step of his mithral plated foot. The small hawks for which the region is named soar through the air above, and there on the ramparts of Castle Greyhawk wave the coat of arms - Sable, a castle triple-towered argent, in chief two chains each of four links chevronwise of the second, in base six bezants. As Ignatius takes another step the ground beneath him begins to shake, the cobbles being ripped apart much the same as the city of Bauerburg. The city; quickly reduced to ruins and ash left Ignatius standing alone amongst the pillars of destruction.

As quickly as he was there he was gone, standing now in a city he had visited years ago- the City of Brass, the huge citadel home to the majority of efreet; where their grand sultan lives and rules with a fiery iron fist. From where he stood in the glistening bazaar of Sultan Square, Ignatious could make out the mysterious and impressive Sable Forest - a wild woods kept as a hunting preserve for efreeti nobles. The black, leafless trees of the forest, called serpent trees, feed on the heat of the plane and grow tall and twisted, reminiscent of the Steward. As Ignatius strained to see the tops of the trees a roaring, louder than any beast he had ever heard could be heard behind. Screaming in a multitude of languages, as Ignatius turned around he saw a wall of water crashing through the streets of the city. It was over twice the height of Ignatius and the sounds of screaming men and mephitis alike could be heard. Not even Lazen, Grand Sultan of All the Efreet would be able to stop it. As it crashed into Ignatius’ body the cold was refreshing from the heat of the plane of fire, and Ignatius’ closed his eyes.

In an instant Ignatius was on dry land again, standing in the scrub lands of the Timarall. The largest bulk of land in Zeif - it stretches from the north shores of the Bakhoury coast and the town of Beit Castan, crossing the Wadi Khijar and going all the way to Ceshra. It is a vast uncultivated land, save for a few stretches in its northern reaches which border the Retsaba, Other smaller villages mark its expanse, largely situated near the trade routes or the wadi. The Timarral is home to nomadic tribes, mostly Paynims who have migrated north, and orc tribes. It was cool in the night air and Ignatius’ gaze was drawn upward to the heavens where the stars shined down bathing all in their stellar light.

The stars are going out. Ignatius thought to himself. One by one as the stars turned to darkness like the flames of a candle being snuffed out. An ancient prophecy plays through his mind, Immediately after the distress of those days the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky... The stars darken faster two then four at a time, and soon the heavens are nearly black. Then in a last attempt of defiance, Luna and Celene stood against the darkness until they too succumbed to the blackness, and there in the darkness of the sky all Ignatius could see was the visage of the Steward looking down on the destruction he had wrought.

Ignatius turned around and he was back in the forest. A forest he recognized as the first place he had encountered his Lady. Following in the footsteps he had taken nearly a decade before he comes to the same shimmering lake where he had seen the songbird that inspired him to this day, only instead of the lakefront and a shimmering feather of the Lady Poet, he saw a woman. A fresh-faced Oeridian woman with dark blue eyes and long black hair. In her hands was he sacred tome capable of showing any prose, poetry, spell, or artwork ever created, it was turned to a page that Ignatius could not quite make out, but he knew the signature at the bottom all too well.

Before he could speak he noticed that his lady was not alone. To her right an older man with wild golden hair and beard, dressed in robes of shining white a magical beast at his side. He shined with the light of sun and Ignatius knew him well, the most revered of all Flan gods, Pelor the Shining one. To her left a tall and lanky elderly man, with strange eyes and stranger hair. His long silvery white hair, the color of spun platinum and blue cat-like eyes, seven canaries sitting on his shoulders, head, and staff. The Wyrmking, lord of the dragons was here as well. Ignatius could not believe what he was seeing. He took a step back and began to pan the lake and the vision became even more incredible. Beings Ignatius had long studied and read about stood about the lake all eyes fixed on him; though many more stood there that he did not know. He saw St. Cuthbert with his mighty cudgel, Odin with his missing eye and wizened scowl, Zeus with his mighty thunderbolts and flowing beard, Al'Akbar the golden-skinned Baklunish man standing his bronzed chest exposed holding his favored falchion, green-skinned Osiris judge and lord of the dead whose charge of the underworld grants all life, Ahura Mazda the lonely god ruler of all his people – he who upholds truth, the armored Triad Ignatius had read about when he visited Waterdeep Torm, Tyr, and Ilmater stood battle ready their gauntlets held high. Amongst the many Ignatius had knowledge were more whose identities evaded him. An old man wrapped in green robes clasped with a silver triangle and pinecone smiles absent mindedly - looking almost lost – at the cleric, in the distance a copper dragon roosts protectively over eggs, surrounded by a warming fire her eyes almost human, a middle-aged man wrapped in robes a crossed oak staff with mistletoe branches clutched in his hands, a wise looking man bearing a third eye on his forehead with snake wrapped around his neck and a crescent moon stood his two eyes closed but third fixed upon Ignatius, and many more still. As soon as they were there they were gone, the field and lake empty now save for Ignatius and his Lady. Though she begins to fade from Ignatius’ sight there is a smile on her lips and tear on her cheek, and Ignatius knows what he must do. Though her power is fading, his resolve is steadfast, he nods his head and suddenly his eyes are drawn to where Rimoka and the others have gathered with the Steward.

Ignatius’ eyes began to refocus on the task at hand, and as a single solitary tear rolled down his cheek, Ignatius was glad that he bore a helmet obscuring the view of his face. Just then a small glinting light appeared speaking to the steward. It would appear that it was one of these primordial forces they were meant to stop. One who went by the name, Punctuality. Not an epic primordial force that Ignatius’ would have expected but none the less it gave them their first glimpse of what the Steward wished to destroy. If Ignatius had not been convinced of the villainy of this Steward before, his response to this creature solidified his belief. He was arrogant and prideful, he had so much to gain and his dismissive tone of the those who stood around him as well as the forces of the multiverse left no doubt that he was full of delusions of grandeur. If heroes have always sided against the steward the hubris and the pride of those who were here with him was mind boggling. Both Jorgum and Rimoka mentioned something about their ability to stop the evil should it get out of hand. They had barely been able to fight their way here, a feat that the Steward had arranged. Did they truly believe that they could actually stop him if he grew greater in power?

I believe I was…mistaken. The priest cast a downward gaze as he slowly approached the others. The Steward had unveiled a lever which would allow the prisons to descend and the others stood at the ready, prepared to be at his beck and call to unleash the prisons in an attempt to overthrow the primordial forces of the multiverse. Ignatius’ had no doubt that in their pride the others would welcome him, accepting his final act as one of cowering obedience, as though yelling the same outlandish beliefs over and over would somehow sway him. As the Steward turned to continue his verbal abuse of the small glowing orb of punctuality Ignatius saw his chance. Ignatius knew this would be his final act, the curtain was about to close for good, and that was okay. Ignatius had made peace with his Lady and many more, and knew what he must do. He was losing touch with Her, and though he knew there were ways to reach her, even in the depths of the voided phlogiston between worlds, she had made her will known to him.

Activating the latent magic that remained in his Mithral Full Plate of Speed, the armored man moved with speed that none would expect of a man clad in armor from head to toe. Grasping his thundering mace tightly in his hand, Ignatius could feel the might of the gods of a thousand worlds in his weapon. This weapon that he had been trained with since he was a young acolyte, this weapon with which he had defended the tenants of freedom, love, beauty, and truth against oppressive regimes and men across several planes and worlds he brought down upon the back of the Stewards skull. A sickening smashing sound, followed by the thundering electric arc of the mace’s magic power filled the room. A single thought remains floating through Ignatius’ mind, So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear, farewell remorse; all good to me is lost.

—Blackout. Exit Stage Left Pursued by Hobgoblin

Avner · #38 Aug 21st, 2016, 09:54 PM

Thomas almost admired Ignatius. The cleric hung so dearly onto his gods that in a place where the precense of them was absent he still attempted to force their will as if they had power. In a place where there was no sun, no moon, no nature, he pushed for those gods to still have influence. He wished to extend their power beyond the cosmos giving them domain over time and space itself.

If Thomas wasn't raised in a monastery he almost wouldn't believe how asinine it was for him to hold onto something when everything else proved otherwise. Beliefs were made to adapt and grow but there were always those who clung onto the old ways, the ones that would resist any change that violated things as they knew them to be. Thomas hated them the most, for in his monastery it was him who defied status quo. A demon simply did not go to church, the church cleansed the earth of demons they did not give them sanctuary. At least that was what those horrible priests believed.

They would torture Thomas any chance they'd get. The last time was the worst, they had strung him up on a wooden man and lit a fire beneath him to 'cast him out' like the demon he had become. That was the first time Thomas had learned he was resistant to fire for as the flames attempted to consume him he realized he had not burned as quickly as the fundamentalist had hoped. The blue skinned boy hung there just long enough for Father Salvator to arrive with the a contingent of monks who believed stringing up and burning a young boy was not the way to earn the favor of their god.

Yes, Thomas knew a fanatic when he saw one and Ignatius' eyes burned with the fire that threatened to consume a young boy. As Steward asked for him to turn the clerics mind one last time Thomas nearly laughed. It was like telling the small boy to convince the school bully to suddenly be a good guy, he was the last one the cleric would believe. To Ignatius he was just an evil ignorant demon boy. So while Jorgum was giving Ignatius one last speech Thomas had already started the battle for every race in every land, every land in every universe. Thomas did not know what to expect as he waited for Steward to pull the lever. He almost would not have noticed Ignatius if it was not for one thing, his sudden surrender to the hobgoblin which he had been so fervently fighting for near the whole time they were there.

Fanatics don't forgive, fanatics don't forget, and they sure as hell don't give in. Thomas had the scars to prove it. The time he had been burned was just one of their many attempts, it wasn't until the priest were excommunicated that he was finally able to sleep at night. The demon boy painted the faces of every one of his attackers on Ignatius and without realizing it he had tapped into more of his infernal energy then ever before. When the cleric came forward with a blur it was Thomas' magic that the mace finally hit. Like a wall of power the mace shattered under the shear force of Thomas' will as his mere telekinesis spells seemed to now be fueled with the power of the cosmos.

"Devastating isn't it? Knowing that the very power you invested your whole life into, the power of your god is so insignificant here? You look at me as a demon Ignatius, but I am a man of god as well. For fifteen years I stood by and learned with men like you. You think you know the answer, you think your way is the only way. Lucky enough for me I was also surround by men better than you, men who taught me that an open mind was more powerful than a closed heart. So go take your faith and see what power it really gives you. My power wasn't loaned to me by some insignificant god, it is my own, it is part of me. Unlike yours my power can not be taken away."

Thomas than pointed toward Steward. "You would blindly murder the one who stands to keep these pods safe and for what?! To force your way? If I had let you succeed there would be no caretaker, you would have sentenced us all to death. Ignatius the old age is over, it is time for a new age.... The Age of Freedom."

Thomas than pulled the lever himself bringing the pods down and looked over to his two allies.

"He's made his decision. Let's give him the eternal sleep he so desires."

As he stood there before Ignatius Thomas finally felt victory. Victory over every boy pushed on a playground, over and halfling mocked for his size, victory for a tiefling boy condemned by fanatics. The little guy had finally come out on top and he was loving every minute of it.

"Now lets go be heroes."

OOC
My fellow Heroes0 I am honored to have gotten the chance to play with you all. I could have only hoped to have made it this far in the competition and to have been able to roleplay such an enjoyable game throughout every stage of the competition really shows me what its like to have been in a game with the very best. I can only hope to have the honor to play with you all again. Good Luck to everyone!

**Admin Bhelogan** · #39 Aug 22nd, 2016, 12:00 AM

A blur of action happened nearly instantaneously. One moment Ignatius was standing there feigning defeat. The next he was behind Steward striking with all the might he could muster. Thomas had anticipated the attack and used his magic to try and counter the blow. It worked, partially, but a massive amount of force still cracked against Steward’s skull. As the mace was directed away it still stripped a large amount of flesh from Steward's head leaving large portions of his skull exposed on the entire left side. Steward was knocked forward a pace, but immediately straighten his stance and turned to face his attacker. Strangely, he did not bleed. It was almost as if the skin that covered his frame was nothing more than a clay layer stuck to his frame. It was unclear if this phenomenon was due to Stewards nature, or if it had something to do with this place.

Steward raised his hand and Ignatius found himself bound by an invisible force. He was powerless to move. Rather than address that the attack had even happened, Steward moved without a word to the levers and pulled one of them down. Mechanical cogs began to turn behind the walls which created a low rumbling sound. Everything on the ceiling of the room began to move as the first row of chambers was slowly lowered to the floor. With a dull ringing thud the machine stopped. Again, Steward didn’t move. He just motioned to those who had chosen to work with him that it was time.

Very soon a battle was about to be waged. It was not a battle of good against evil, but a battle of ideals. A changing of the guard. Those who chose to side with Steward would soon be facing the forces that had ruled the cosmos since the beginning of time. They had no guarantee of victory. They didn’t even have a guarantee that if they won that they had made the right choice. They could only hope that if they were wrong, the old way could be restored before too much damage was done. That, however, is a story for another time.

The End

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