Grujúng and Nebússa seized their chance. For a fleeting moment, Prince Dhich'uné stood unshielded, his body and mind briefly his own. Grujúng lunged first, his weapon smashing into the prince with a resounding blow that staggered him. Nebússa followed hard on his heels, striking true and drawing another cry of pain.
Dhich'uné did not fall. Straightening with dreadful resolve, he rose taller than before, black-green sparks crawling across his flesh, racing to seal the wounds. Behind him, the spectral silhouette that shadowed his form blazed suddenly brighter, swelling until it loomed above him like a giant. With unnatural speed, Dhich'uné lashed out at Grujúng. The strike landed with such force that Grujúng was hurled nearly twenty feet, crashing to the floor in a heap.
From across the bridge, Srüna raised the splendid eye of Krá the Mighty. Its power leapt forth, seizing the prince in an invisible grip. His body convulsed, wracked with fresh agony, yet still he fought on. Gritting his teeth, Grujúng hauled himself upright and staggered back into the fray, standing shoulder to shoulder with Nebússa against their terrible foe.
The prince’s voice thundered across the chamber, low and irresistible: “Come no further! Kneel before Us!” The words reverberated through their bones, laced with a command that was almost impossible to deny. For a heartbeat, their wills buckled, but then, with supreme effort, they pushed back the compulsion. Still, the strain was evident. How much longer could they resist the weight of his power?
As the battle continued across the platform, Kirktá and Keléno stood with their wives, paralyzed by uncertainty. From behind the mask Míru had given him, Kirktá caught sight of something strange. Along the platform’s edges, as though rising from the fathomless chasm below, threads of light began to form like a vast, spiderweb lattice, spreading with unnerving speed. The strands glowed a sickly brown-yellow, racing outward, converging toward Dhich'uné. Were they hunting him of their own accord or answering his silent command? Kirktá could not say and the doubt gnawed at him.
Behind the prince, the towering silhouette still loomed, larger than ever, but Kirktá noticed widening gaps tearing through its form. It strained, like something barely able to hold its grip upon Dhich'uné’s body. The sight brought his thoughts to the talismans Míru had given him. Perhaps the uncut black gem, which he had not thus far used, might prove important somehow.
Keléno, meanwhile, remained steadfast at his side. Shield of defense raised, he sheltered his companions against any unexpected danger. Beyond that, he had no stratagem left to offer, no secret weapon hidden away. All he could do was stand guard and whisper fervent prayers to Lord Sárku, the Five-Headed Lord of Worms, his dread patron and master of the undead.
A stench of rot soon thickened the chamber air. From the platform’s edges, grave worms heaved themselves into view, writhing and crawling toward the fray. Then a voice arose – sepulchral, deep, and resonant enough to shake the stones of the place.
"Apostate! You were mine. Now, you are nothing. Change is the law and you would break it with your false eternity. For this, I cast you out."
Through the mask, Kirktá saw a vortex yawning open above Dhich'uné, its pull seizing the shadowy silhouette and dragging it upward, away from his body. The prince shrieked in agony, even as Grujúng and Nebússa pressed their assault, striking at him while the thing within him was torn free.
The worms quickened, swarming closer. At their advance, Dhich'uné recoiled, fear flickering across his face for the first time. While Keléno prayed fervently to Sárku, Kirktá sprinted to the platform’s center. The spectral threads binding the silhouette to the prince had stretched thin, taut and on the edge of breaking. Trusting his intuition, Kirktá drew the uncut black gem. With a swift motion, he slashed through the strands, severing them one by one.
The vortex roared, ripping the last of the shadow from Dhich'uné and devouring it. The prince collapsed, broken and gasping, left to writhe on the platform.
For a moment, silence reigned. Then the voice returned, vast and terrible.
"Do not mistake my hand for friendship. You are tools, no more. The cycle of Change endures. Pray you never draw my gaze again."
With those words, Dhich'uné’s still-twitching body convulsed. An unseen force seized him, folding him inward toward a single invisible point. His scream echoed through the chamber and then cut off abruptly as he vanished.
I hope there’s going to be an epilogue!
ReplyDeleteYou know what else (I think) would be neat? For you to post the gameplay end of this: the characters, Dichune, a maybe a floor plan..
I know it’d probably be more trouble than it’s worth, but the game -ist in me is super-interested!
There's still one more session to go, so there will definitely be an epilog. As for the rest, I'll see. There was only a very vague floorplan. I do have stats for Dhich'uné in his various forms and, of course, all the PCs have stats. I may ask the players to share them.
DeleteThat’s something I was wondering about. As I recall, none of the PCs surpassed upper middle levels. And yet here they are, helping determine the fate of their Tékumel. Were any of the NPCs in this campaign what you would regard as high level?
DeleteThe highest level characters are 7th-level, which is very high in EPT. There were several NPCs who were of similar level or higher, like Eselné and Dhich'uné, both of whom were 9th-level in their classes (warrior and priest respectively). There were others, such as the Undying Wizards, who were even higher, though it never came up in play.
DeleteThanks, I’ll have to adjust my perspective. Seventh-level in AD&D isn’t “very high”.
DeleteDhich’uné was explicitly stated in EPT to be 9th-level. But wow, Eselné was 9th-level? What was Kettukal?
I decided on the levels and classes of all the princes, just in case I needed them later. For Kéttukal, I assumed he was 10th-level, the highest level for which there are stats in the advancement charts.
DeleteI’d be curious how Rereshqála, Mridóbu, Taksuru, and Ma’in fare in your estimation, along with any other princes and princesses you claim to name. Makes me wonder how the Kólumejálim will turn out, if Eselné hasn’t already achieved a coup accompli.
DeleteCracking
ReplyDeleteObviously, the players are seasoned - and critical to the success of the campaign - but might you consider this your magnum opus as a referee? I honestly cannot conceive of a a more masterful, satisfying conclusion to the epic.
ReplyDeleteBravo!
That's very kind of you to say. I am pleased with how the campaign is ending and do, in fact, consider it probably the high point of my "career" as a referee. I've never ended a campaign as satisfyingly as this one.
DeleteI loved the D&D episode of Freaks and Geeks, despite the use of anachronistic AD&D editions and other minor gaffes, but I loved how the storyline ended with a fantastical portrayal of the newcomer becoming the hero and resolving the session with a neat and tidy collaborative narrative resolution (in a one-shot, no less!). But it was just that: a fantasy about gaming that - in real life - never resolves to such satisfaction.
DeleteAnd yet, here you are - a deep campaign that culminates in a perfect crescendo. Sublime.
Huh, fighting in the company of gods. Now there will be stories to tell to the kids and grand kids for a long, long time!
ReplyDeleteA very nice climax; eagerly awaiting the dénouement. A few reactions:
ReplyDelete1. Sárku is a jerk. What did the House of Worms do to deserve, “Pray you never draw my gaze again.”
2. The line, “Change is the law and you would break it with your false eternity,” is interesting. Sárku’s temple is about preserving intellect and body (devoid of the spirit soul) past death. The fact that Sárku got lumped in with Change instead of Belkhánu (whose temple embraces the change from life to death) always seemed like a particular accident to me, perhaps due to Pavar’s (mis?) partitioning of the Divine. Or just because Barker switched from Good/Evil to Stability/Change and didn’t want to change the groupings.
I don't think anyone, even his most fervent devotees, ever doubted that Sárku was not exactly personable.
DeleteYour point about Sárku and Change is one I've pondered too. The "official" explanation is that the undead exist to bear witness to the change wrought by Hrü'ü. They're privileged witnesses to the work of Change rather than, as some might argue, examples of the lack of change by their continued persistence through time.
That’s not a bad rationalization.
DeleteBut on page 14 of the officially published PDF of “Creating A Religion In Your Spare Time for Fun and Profit”, Barker discusses how the “Lawful” deity Jugbo switches sides and allies with Ghurbofazh, Lord of Death, yet “still cannot stomach Gheri the Unmoveable, figuratively or physically, but […] is now in the same camp, and maybe some further reinterpretation and reconciliation can be mythically effected later.” This seems relevant to me.
If you haven’t read that article, it’s well worthwhile to anyone designing religions for their setting. It’s informing the drafting of a setting for Classic Traveller (“A Ribbon, Torn”) that your Retrospectives and Distinctives have inspired me to create.
Though these House of Worms posts continue to whet my appetite for running a Tékumel campaign.
This resolution also puts the lie to both Deities and Demigods and the I in BECMI: Empire of the Petal Throne deals with the divine so much more...uh....realistically? (and one of the worst things about D&D Immortals was that Immortals were overtly not divine.)
ReplyDelete