Amdirlain’s PoV - Culerzic

With the last room finished, Amdirlain returned its page to the roll of designs. It had taken four days of effort to carve the hideout exactly according to the plans Erwarth had provided. Having committed them all to memory, Amdirlain stored the rolled plans in Inventory, before she re-checked all the rooms. Only when she completed a few circuits walking varying paths, to ensure she caught them from different angles, did she teleport to the library’s main hall.

The room increasingly resembled an old library with the number of heavy volumes that Torm had unpacked from Isa’s deliveries. Among the books weren’t only the leather-bound volumes Amdirlain had expected, but texts in a variety of materials, from dark stone plates to liquid that swirled within a set form. The last Amdirlain had found ‌especially interesting as layers of compressed water formed the entire volume. Its runes were perpetual eddies that sat within the ‘pages’ of the book.

Listening to that tome’s music was relaxing and yet caught her up in its dancing energy. Already restless, it added to Amdirlain’s desire to move, and more of Orhêthurin’s memories bubbled up only to stay teasingly out of reach. With Amdirlain’s arrival, Torm added yet another empty crate to the stack he’d handled unpacking for her.

“I’ve finished checking all the rooms again,” Amdirlain said. “Everything appears and sounds stable. Likely I didn’t need the whole place, but it gives us plenty of space.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll provide reminders that you have more than the main hall and the library if you seem too restless. The meeting is soon; we should Teleport close and scout around.” offered Torm.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I could just help you gather whatever they need and not meet them.”

“Do you think I’ve left this meeting’s outcome to chance?” asked Torm.

“What did you do?”

“My Liege and Ebusuku have already spoken to their counterparts,” admitted Torm.

“You didn’t mention that,” huffed Amdirlain.

Torm gave a mischievous smile. “You didn’t ask until now; I was hoping to surprise you.”

Rubbing her hands nervously, Amdirlain reappeared close to him. “Teleport us whenever you’re ready.”

Torm looked at the Alu-Demon shape Amdirlain had adopted and rubbed the back of his head. “You’ve more control over your Charisma, but it still shows clearly. Perhaps a Hag might be better after all.”

Despite his calm tone, Amdirlain caught the light notes in his music and poked out her tongue. “Every humanoid form I can use in the Abyss has its downsides.”

The sky overhead was the same raging flames, but she found they weren’t in any region she’d previously visited. Rolling dunes of glossy black sand stretched towards the horizon, where the heat haze generated a mirage-like shimmer in the distance. Strange animal cries, strangled chirps, and vicious screams echoed down from the rugged foothills behind them, but there wasn’t even a whisper of any animal sounds among the nearby dunes. Even the region’s music seemed subdued to Amdirlain with a skulking, predatory intent, a grim orchestra lulling its victims to sleep.

A sudden movement above a distant dune snagged Amdirlain’s gaze. A demonic buzzard had flown too low, and a tentacle erupted from the dune’s crest to crack a wing. The blow sent it skimming across the sands, and a beast lunged upright from concealment.

It had a distorted horse-like appearance, with wide circular feet preventing it from sinking into the sand. Black plates of bone covered the entire length of its legs, from the strange membrane of its feet until they joined its solid torso nearly three metres above the ground. Boney spikes and ridges covered it from the base of its tentacle tail to just behind its insectoid head. Six black compound eyes in an arc across its forehead monitored the surroundings as it moved towards its meal. Once it reached the bird, struggling to get airborne with a broken wing, its mandibles made quick work of snipping its prey into pieces. The tentacles that extended from its neck fed the remains into its maw once that dismembering was complete.

[Species: Dune Strider

Level: 52

Health: 1,300

Defence: 240

Melee Attack Power: 270

Combat Skills: Tentacles [M] (12), Bite [Ad] (2)

Details: This species pre-dates the demons within the Abyss, and they still live in the deserts of several abyssal planes ]

The strider folded itself back down to the ground when its meal was complete and writhed around until it had sunk into the sands. The irregular formations of its plating broke up its lines, and the tentacles splayed out along the ground and twitched with the same motions that had attracted the last victim.

“Can I have a pony?”

Torm coughed and motioned towards the foothills behind them. “The meeting point is further into the hills, not among the dunes. Let’s make sure there isn’t any activity in the area.”

Amdirlain nodded and stretched out her perceptions, picking out the mental impressions of various abyssal creatures but no demons nearby. “Lots of critters, but no demonic minds within a few kilometres.”

Torm teleported them again and started to check the meeting point’s perimeter through the gullies.

An hour later, they were close enough to it that Amdirlain heard the music of the first arrival within the wards. They possessed the same mixture of heat and rage covering their true nature as Sarah’s item had provided Torm.

“The first has arrived,” Amdirlain offered, and Torm looked up from the tracks he’d been checking.

“A group of Dretch, maybe ten or twelve, but at least a few days old.”

“Dretch,” grumbled Amdirlain. “None of their minds are close, and they can’t come teleporting back.”

“We’ve not much time left before the meeting. Should we be present to meet them ‌upon arrival, or wait and greet them in one go?”

Neither option was risk-free, and Amdirlain shrugged after a quick consideration. “Might as well get the introductions done in one hit. Only being there for part of the discussion could muddy things further.”

With the abyssal harmonics tuned out, Amdirlain heard the others arrive, even hundreds of metres away. The sour dissonance that touched the last arrival’s inner core set an unpleasant itch within her mind. Its melody reminded her of the three fallen Orhêthurin had met.

Crossing the wards’ boundary, Amdirlain felt the wards react in a similar fashion to those at the shack. Their creator had set up the outer wards as a trip-wire and diversion for entities that might stumble across them. Though they had stayed dormant at the shack, this time they called out for the attention of the second arrival, further clarifying ‌the nature of the wards.

The meeting location was a house-sized boulder that jutted from a hillside. Torm pointed out the entrance and slipped beneath its lip to pull himself inside it. When Amdirlain followed, she found the entry cavity twisted awkwardly and eased herself along with Flight.

The sight of three cambions and an Alu-Demon matched her expectations from hearing their disguises’ songs. Though the Alu-Demon appeared the least physically imposing, her inner strength set her in the middle of the group. Of the four, only one was an Angel, but all three of the Archons were old and comfortable in their strength. One glance at the Analysis details and Amdirlain ignored the faked information and memorised only their names and appearances.

They all shared the same lack of Abyssal Heat, but that was the only feature they had in common. Torm proceeded with the introductions, motioning to each ‌as he introduced them to Amdirlain.

Caltzan was the alias of the cell leader; they possessed a spider-like form with a bulbous thorax supported by twelve legs. Their upper body was an insect torso, a uniform matte black, like a mutated praying mantis. Two long arms extended from their shoulders ended in folding scythe-bladed forearms, and two smaller arms with four-digit hands jutted straight out from their chest. Their torso was headless, simply ending with an open maw filled with serrated teeth. Surrounding it were hundreds of eyes that shifted about on the ends of finger-length tentacles. The strength of their angelic song carried a firmness of power that brought Sage’s Hammer to mind.

Maybe an Astral Deva, or something ‌stronger.

Their second in command was Munais, the apparent Alu-Demon, whose eyes were pupilless and matte white, almost blending in seamlessly with their skin tone. Almost-Human features covered in fine hair and feline ears gave her a cat-girl appearance, though the sharpened fangs that gleamed when she spoke added a dangerous air. Ash wings‌ that she held wrapped partly around her body blended with the colour of her hide armour.

The third member, and the source of the dissonance she’d heard upon their arrival, used the name Brel. Humanoid with a narrow Human face, it was the features that twisted his face off true. He landed right in the uncanny valley, close to Human but not entirely, among the oddities were long-slitted pupils running horizontally across his eyes and a tri-forked tongue. His crimson teeth and barf green skin helped ease her mind’s expectation of Human traits. Orhêthurin’s memory of meeting the three fallen caught at her again, and the dissonance seemed a promise of that fate for him.

Last but not least, their fourth member was called Oitrix. He was both the strangest of them and the most ordinary. He looked like someone had petrified a Dwarf, and then animated the statue to move. Even the hairs of his beard had a stone texture, though each was perfectly defined. It was the stone’s ragged edges that gave his presence the hint of cruelty that Amdirlain hadn’t felt from any Dwarf she’d met to date.

Caltzan’s grating vocals sounded like bone scratching on bone and had Amdirlain wondering if more teeth, further into its maw, were generating the sounds. “Greetings. While it is good to meet who we are dealing with, what name should we normally use?”

“Jade is a name I’ve used in other places,” admitted Amdirlain.

“Then that is what we’ll use if we request your involvement in any operations.”

“You can work with her, but my Liege has given me no instructions to do so,” Brel growled and rose from an oddly curved chair. A surge of burning notes screeched within the dissonance that had been already present in his essence.

“Brel, before you go,” Amdirlain stated before he could Teleport away. “Take some time at home. I think being here is getting at you.”

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“What would you know?”

“I can hear you’re off balance and the path you’re on isn’t one that’s easily reversed if you travel too far,” warned Amdirlain.

Brel opened his mouth to cut her off, but Amdirlain hurried on but kept her tone calm.

“I’m not asking you to believe me. I would only suggest you take time to visit your Liege’s Domain. You’re angry and off balance, and how you feel right now isn’t good for you.”

Her words had Brel close his mouth with a snap. Exhaling sharply, he stared off into the distance, and when his focus returned to them, he nervously licked his lips before speaking in a carefully measured tone. “I’ll visit my Liege's Domain and speak to my superiors. If you’re wasting my time and effort, I’ll seek restitution from you.”

With those words, he vanished away, but the word he'd chosen resonated with Amdirlain as being at the source of his problems.

“How is it you knew of his situation?” asked Caltzan.

“I don’t know what information got shared about, but let’s say I can hear your inner nature past your disguises. It let me tell that Brel has been letting anger twist him; his desire for restitution ‌might have opened a way. Those taken can never have true restitution, which seems like a knife twisting inside him. How long has he been handling this work?”

Caltzan’s bladed forearms twitched as it shifted position. “A few centuries now. Perhaps it would be wise for all of us to take time at home occasionally.”

“What part of the work does Brel handle for you?”

“Scouting any location where we believe mortals can be found after they’re taken from the markets,” replied Caltzan. “Is this something you can assist us with?”

Torm glanced at Amdirlain, but she kept her attention on Caltzan and spoke up first. “I won't make any promises, but I'll see what I can handle on a case-by-case basis until Brel or someone else is available to assist.”

“I thought we were only going to undertake materials gathering?” questioned Torm.

“We can do both. I shouldn’t need to venture into any location, so this is low risk—I’ve plenty of options to gather information from a distance,” explained Amdirlain, and she relaxed as an edge of tension left him. “Are the places you deal with ‌warded against psionics?”

“No Demon I’ve heard of possesses sufficient discipline to master such talents,” offered Oitrix.

One of Caltzan’s smaller arms drew a memory crystal from a sash that blended in with its torso and tossed it smoothly to Amdirlain. Catching it with Far Hand, more from reflex than necessity, Amdirlain floated it into reach and secured it in Inventory. “Those are records of the locations we need to be scouted; there should be sufficient details to pick a spot to teleport a safe distance from any of them.”

As Caltzan spoke, Torm set the bags of abyssal currency Amdirlain had given him days earlier on the chamber’s floor. At the first clink, Munais opened a bag and drew out a handful of the irregularly-shaped coins. When Torm continued to set more bags on the ground, she waited until he stepped back before she spoke. “Are the majority this obsidian denomination?”

“All of them are except one bag, which has a mix of lesser coinage,” answered Amdirlain.

Munais tapped her hand lightly against the closest bag. “What do you want for these?”

Nudging the bags further towards Munais, Amdirlain shrugged. “Slaves freed. If I need more coins, I’ll kill some demons.”

“Though our Lieges have received reassurances, Tor’m Altha will be your only contact point with our operations,” stated Caltzan. “Light willing, I hope you can ‌redeem yourself from whatever misdeed led you to your accursed state.”

Rather than correct them, Amdirlain just nodded in appreciation. “That’s my plan.”

Caltzan and Oitrix vanished with that, but Munais lingered to store the coin bags. “Caltzan is very formal, but we appreciate the help. Your allies didn’t inform my Liege or theirs about how you came to be cursed because they felt it was only yours to share. I believe that likely has Caltzan a touch wary since there is already so much unknown within our operations.”

“Perhaps after we get to know each other better,” offered Amdirlain.

Munais gave a dry laugh and motioned towards where Caltzan had perched. “In that case, I’ll not learn either. These gatherings are few; normally we don’t even meet to exchange goods. I pick the materials up from where Tor’m Altha hides them.”

“Might I ask what your Liege’s aspects are?”

Amdirlain’s careful question brought forth a smile from Munais. “My Liege is a Goddess of beauty and pleasure.”

“You must find being in the Abyss particularly difficult.”

“It can be, but there can be both beauty and pleasure; if you look at it the right way,” countered Munais. “Not as a whole, but aspects of it in isolation can contain beauty if you look. The stark shadows set across a strange landscape from a lightning strike, or a Succubus’ expression when lust and hunger give way to pleasure in a moment of sexual release.”

She must have caught something of Amdirlain’s shock as Munais stopped. “I’ve several artworks I created for my liege capturing such moments. The contrast between depravity and vulnerability make them interesting subjects to depict. I derive pleasure from my limited ability to capture such a transcendent moment.”

“You’ve…” Amdirlain's question died before she could voice it. A memory of her form’s inner heat responding to Naz’rilca’s hands running over her, killing any desire to know more.

“Lain with demons? Some are awful lovers, and some are skilled, but most are merely desperate for any release from their boredom. While it was not genuine pleasure with or for many, if that is what it takes to free an innocent, I’d bed scores of them. Freeing an innocent is a pleasure worth all that and much more,” declared Munais, as she put the last of the bags away. “At the very least, when I’m away from here, it’s easier to find genuine pleasure with even the most hesitant of lovers.”

With that statement, Munais vanished as well, and Torm gave a slight frown. “That wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“Brel? That they’d only exchange names and dashed? Or did you mean Munais?”

“I already knew that about Munais. But Brel and the others leaving so quickly was unexpected,” admitted Torm. “They might at least have taken the time to ask questions and get to know something about you.”

“Optimistic aren’t you? Well, at least they’re not asking ‌questions I don’t want to answer,” offered Amdirlain, and she pulled the memory crystal from Inventory. “Can we go check these out?”

“If they expected it possible to retrieve the last captives, it wouldn’t have been something that waited for this meeting,” cautioned Torm.

Amdirlain focused on the crystal and sorted the impressions she received. Views of three locations from various vantage points poured into her mind. The first two were remote, but the last was smack in the middle of a sizeable demonic town with packed streets. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The first two are fine, the third might require some care,” admitted Amdirlain, and she handed him the crystal. “Let’s handle the first two, and then we’ll see about the third.”

Torm reviewed the crystal and returned it to her quietly. “This is a problem. I recognise that town, It’s on the edge of a regimental training area. There will be lots of demons reporting to Moloch around there.”

“Did your boss tell Caltzan’s boss I was Planar Locked?”

The question drew Torm’s mouth into a hard line, and she heard him resound with a deep Celestial tone. The notes caused a foreign pressure to brush against her mind, but it still eased the foulness of the Abyss.

“He did and asked that they limit the hazardous work they requested your help to undertake. Something about you being unable to turn your back on the Dao slaves.”

Amdirlain snorted at the memory of Ebusuku’s frustration with her once they returned to the Domain. “Who judges what risk is minimal? Did Caltzan take off to make it harder to refuse?”

“Do you want me to send a Message?” offered Torm.

Amdirlain wrinkled her nose and gave a helpless shrug. “Let’s see how things go. If we don’t like the risk, and I can’t get information without getting close, you can at least report on the first two. Who does the initial information gathering?”

Her use of ‘we’ earned a relieved smile from Torm. “Caltzan. They might have been planning to provide that crystal to Brel.”

“I’ll move us this time,” Amdirlain volunteered, and when Torm nodded, she teleported them both.

They reappeared in a forest that was the furthest point from the initial location—a misshapen structure deep in its interior. Overhead, a thick canopy blotted the fiery sky, while within its branches Amdirlain could hear the music of various abyssal creatures. A deep musty smell assaulted her nostrils and Amdirlain spotted the caked mildew clinging to the trunks and branches around them.

Mould, slimes, and fungi grew in abundance across the wet ground. Within a translucent ooze, draped over a log nearby, a slowly dissolving eyeball turned in their direction before it continued to orbit the ooze’s glowing core.

“My, grandma, what a big eye you have,” murmured Amdirlain, taking in the multitude of animal minds about them, glad that nothing was aware enough to be interested in them.

Analysis

[Species: Slime (Acidic)

Level: 5

Health: 60

Defence: 90

Melee Attack Power: 20

Combat Skills: Pseudopod [B](1)

Details: Particularly vulnerable to fire, these abyssal variations can inflict almost no impact damage via extended pseudopods, but their slightest touch is highly corrosive.]

“Glad they didn’t curse me into a slime,” muttered Amdirlain. She listened to the hissing static of its corrosive fluid eating the mildew from the log as the slime twitched away. “I think this is a bust if the building is ahead; it's already empty and there are only animals nearby.”

It was even more depressing when they reached the site than the crystal had portrayed. A large tree, some sixteen ‌metres in diameter, served as the central post of the odd construction. Something had stacked trunks around it haphazardly and somehow got it coated in spider webs to fasten them in place. The region’s prevalent mildew had since taken over and rendered it into a congealed pile of vomit. Beneath the songs of decay and corruption, Amdirlain heard the faint whisper of a passage leading downwards and spaces underground.

“Seems the locals aren’t opposed to setting up subterranean bases. A tunnel leading downwards is under that mess, and I can hear‌ scores of underground chambers and passages,”

“No sign of wards,” offered Torm, and Amdirlain gave a quick headshake.

“I could use Clairvoyance to examine a chamber, and we can jump down and explore. Or find the entrance and go from there. Preference?”

“Reporting back that there is more here than meets the eye isn’t an option?” enquired Torm.

“We could go that route,” admitted Amdirlain. “What sort of information would Brel have brought back?”

“His training is different to either of ours,” grumbled Torm; considering the options, he motioned downwards. “If they have any traps in place, it's likely they’re on the entryway, so let’s skip past them if you can find an unoccupied chamber.”

Amdirlain gave him a quick smile and turned her focus towards the chambers. “There are no minds among the chambers down there. It looks like a series of natural passages and underground caves here; maybe this rubbish pile of a shelter is more to mark the location. There is also a metallic song that zig-zags downwards.”

“Most demons that can teleport only have the Power’s self version. They might have left some type of guide rail behind if they’re natural tunnels,” suggested Torm.

Reaching out with Clairvoyance provided an image from a large opening, and Amdirlain moved them to a rock ledge. Water oozed through the surrounding rock, trickling along the decaying roots that jutted down from the ceiling and contributed to the gagging stench of rot that filled the air. The only downward path was almost knee-deep in accumulated water, with a mixture of debris suspended within it. Though moving about stirred the muck, the water’s current quickly obliterated evidence of their movements.

Moving them closer to the metallic song, they eventually found the source of the music. Abyssal steel wedges shaped a rough staircase in places without a simple path. Amdirlain moved them downwards but kept a distance from the stairs. It was almost a kilometre before Amdirlain caught a deep song on the very edge of her perception. Though similar to the Gate she’d opened to Ternòx, it was wild and raw, and its sound continually consumed approaching music.

When she placed them near the song’s origin, it made sense. They entered a giant cavern that seemed at least a kilometre across. The exact distance was hard to determine because a whirlpool that filled the lower section continually threw massive water sprays from rocks along its edge. Dead centre within the whirlpool’s maelstrom was a Gate’s event horizon. A gantry extended from the cavern’s side to provide access to a platform hovering directly above it.

Analysis

[Gate of Decay

Details: This one-way Gate leads to the Plane of Infliction, ruled by the Lady of Fungi.]

“Unless they just toss them over the edge, the slavers made a one-way trip. The Gate isn’t bidirectional; it leads to the Plane of Infliction,” said Amdirlain, and she pointed to where the gantry started. “Do you want to set notification wards, so we know how often they come this way?”

“I’d suggest setting them further up the stairs.”

“Can you keep yourself airborne without your wings?” Amdirlain immediately asked.

“I figured it out while you were on vacation,” teased Torm. “Why?”

“I’ll teleport us to a few spots, but I want you to hover and not touch anything.”