Titans of Moradin

The Balance Restored

Universe

The universe, observing M.B.P.’s activities says “That crap is just wrong.” An audit of the books reveals that M.B.P. is the result of a gross accounting oversight, because three halves do not make actually a whole. M.B.P. is removed from any possible world line, and it is as if it never existed. In fact, the universe is somewhat touchy about these kinds of causality issues, so any mention of M.B.P. in the future could cause the entire worldline to vanish in a fit of pique. Fortunately, since everyone is part of the worldline, they never heard of M.B.P. Only the narrator knows about him, and he met with an unfortunate accident. What? Who are you, and what are you doing here. Ow! Stop that! Oh no! Urk!

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Earlier, in the dungeon...

M.B.P.

He observed the fluffy wambler ceremony with mild disdain. Once it is over, he transforms into a giant fluffy wambler, which defecates loudly and wetly upon the dungeon floor. There seem to be chunks of undigested leaves and small animals sitting in a greasy multi-colored fluid. The gut wrenching appearance of the spoor is only matched by it’s dreadfully pungent odor. M.B.P. then transforms into a small orange unicorn with a blue horn and prances off to the unnatural forest.

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Bad Dreams, Fleshling?

DM

The ritual having seemingly failed, Kendalius gathers his ritual implements and follows Lyrandyr back to the forest where they setup camp for the evening. In the middle of what passes for evening in this tomb, Kendalius awakens screaming in obvious pain, for Asmodeus demands pain as well as blood in his sacrifices.

Sitting up, his nose bleeding, Kendalius looks up at his now alert comrades. “Tis’ a beast of cold and decay. It fears the light.” Collapsing back upon his bedroll, Kendalius notices one of the stones that inhabit this forest standing over him. “Bad dreams fleshling?” the stone inquires. Kendalius swears he can almost hear the stone laugh behind the monotone voice in his head.

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The Unnatural Forest

Lyrandyr d’Bergeron

The air grows cold, still. The stones around Kendalius begin to rime with felfrost. Lyrandyr turns to the rest of the party: “Mayhaps, friends, it would be best if we gave our sinister friend some room. Let us away.” Behind him, the runes begin to glow with black fire. “There’s nothing happening here that any of you would care to see, I think – now, or in your nightmares later.” He ushers the party away, back towards the entrance to the unnatural forest. Half-elf though he may be, forests have always make Lyrandyr uncomfortable, and this one, planted in the midst of an ancient tomb, moreso than most – but even these living trees, their roots wrapped around who-knows-what ancient atrocity, are preferable to whatever… thing… might manifest inside those runes. As they walk away, Lyrandyr spares a glance for the frost-shrouded elf behind him. “Be careful, friend – there are eyes here even you cannot see, and not all of them are so tolerant of your… excesses as we.”

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Divine Guidance

Kendalius

After carefully brushing himself off after being savagely attacked by a group of goblins and skeletons, Kendalius raised his head to catch Steve’s gaze. “And just what the hell were you thinking?” Before the barbarian could answer, he raised his hand to cut him off. Turning to Lyrandyr, his eyes narrowed as he spoke in Elvish, “Ille ar amin liw evah drow einrendi.” Lyrandyr, noticing that the party is now staring at him expecting a reply in a language they don’t understand, flashes a wide smile and ignores him.

He turns away from the party. Walking away a few meters, he drops to his knees and pulls out a Fluffy Wambler and an ornate knife from his adventure pack. His eyes turn to onyx as he begins chanting a few obviously memorized phrases in Infernal. The fluffy wambler’s round eyes look up at the ceremonial knife as it is driven into her flesh, piercing her heart. He starts fingerpainting infernal runes into the rough dungeon floor around him.

With his head still lowered and his runic masterwork complete, Kendalius extends both bloodsoaked hands and shouts out, “Lord Asmodeus, guide me. Tell us of the foe we mean to destroy. The beast with several eyes.”

Roll: Religion 24

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