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Final Chapter of the Actual Story. Epilogues to follow (+13 chapters).
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“Commander, Angelos, Windgraf. It is time to remove your Hats.”
The three otherworldly combatants slowly reached up and removed the magical Hats that had allowed them to grow into something great and proud, cleverly sidestepping the suppressing magic that the Shroud had set upon them. A fisherman’s hat and a baseball hat for the Angels, and a stern dark blue bowler for the genie were held in their hands as the three of them stood there, watching the Heavens-Up Display in the sky like everyone else, and the streams of little red, orange, and yellow X’s that were tapering off from all directions.
The yellows were sighted down and extinguished by the waiting Archers with mechanical precision, never reaching the Walls they might actually pass through successfully, and joined the burning heaps of their predecessors on the field beyond the Walls.
None of the Possessed Machines had made it here, hunted down by the forces outside who had been eradicating the remaining Constructs ferociously for these past hours. Some of them were still visible, fighting in the distance
Fifty thousand undead seemed to pass in no time at all. Thirty. Twenty. Fifteen. Ten thousand, the last desperate dregs of the Shroud barely existing above, the Deadzone completely collapsing as a long, rattling sigh seemed to carry on the wind, and the last groups of undead came streaming in helplessly to their doom.
The Archers up in the air stopped firing as the HUD counted off the last hundred undead, many of them damaged and moving slowly as they labored toward the Walls that would end them forever, and then Feed them to the Land.
I raised my hand, and swirling clouds, all white and shining with color, gathered above in direct defiance of the very last gasp of the Shroud being drawn away. Bells and horns Sang out from a great and lofty distance, and a Light from someplace far, far away, and next door in our hearts, began to build.
There was a burble and a splash as the last damaged skeleton, some variety of weasel-like anthro, marched into a Wall of Holy Waterfire and died, dissolved and reduced to nothingness.
There was no hesitation as I clenched my fist.
Bolts of Radiant Light straight from Heaven powered right down on top of the Shroudlord, and it could only take the hit, not even screaming as its spirit finally faced the end of the unlife it had never wanted.
An ending for a Hero, not a villain.
Light brighter than the atomics going off flooded over everyone, blinding everyone and harming no one despite all that. Holy light speared deep into the hearts and minds of everyone there, and mortal souls shook as they felt an Existence, far too powerful to define, that seemed to fully wake up at that moment and beheld them all at the same time.
It flowed through them, relieving the pain, the mental trauma, the sheer anguish and weight of everything that had been done, and let them know that it was all right, they were understood, and Something very, very far beyond them all knew and appreciated their efforts and sacrifices.
If there was puzzlement over what exactly had gone on, nobody there could actually feel it.
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“Kneel, and Pray.”
Briggs’ Voice reverberated through every Mark, Allegiance, and member of the Alliance. Around the world, mortal men and women sank to one knee, as it was time.
A stream of Light had coursed across the sky, and any lingering darkness was gone. A weight on the soul endured so long nobody had known it was there was gone, and spontaneous tears broke out on a billion eyes.
In the hearts of those who had labored for this moment, Glory rose, and they knew, they KNEW, that the Land and the Gods were watching them at this moment.
“Elder, your Hat,” Helix said with a smile to the mystified Windgraf, who was standing there and looking at the Armor he was garbed in. The big djinni noble looked at the Stormbound with the Bloodline of his own people reverberating in him.
The genie accepted the battered Bowler sized for him, and slowly fit it on, even as Sir Pellier handed the gleaming figure of a great deva a simple mortal Cap at the same time.
The two non-mortals glanced at one another in puzzlement, at the mortals bent down and kneeling to face the east all around, and slowly put their Hats back on.
They blinked once, stiffening as the memories stolen completely from them a moment ago returned, and then, like Sorcerer and Paladin, bent down and knelt to welcome the return of the Sun of Suns, as a Beacon of Light speared for the Heavens from the world's first True Pyramid, and announced that here, here the Divine were present, and They were watching once more...
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The experience wasn’t pleasant, but somehow subtle in its own way. A last burst of magic left behind, wiping away the memory of what had happened from non-mortals, seizing the last chains of hidden Fiends ensconced across the world and waiting for them, and dragging them with it.
At the same time, misdirected by the Souls of the Shroud, those self-same threads of magic grabbed all those with Morituri Pacts and yanked us along together with it.
The level of sub-dimensions we were drawn along indicated some very, very hefty magic, the same effect that allowed the Shroud to remain ‘one’ across multiple realities, much like a Pantheonic Domain, mirroring the effect.
But time didn’t matter so much there, reality warping about as it was, and so in due course, the wailing and protesting souls thick about me, us, we were spit out back into reality... somewhere else.
I blew Wrath and vivus through me, and instantly vomited up a whole lot of stuff I didn’t want inside me from the transit.
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Around me were hundreds of men and women of multiple species, doing the same thing, including almost all of the Penitent; those who’d chosen to fight, instead of just work and wait. Pacts glowed under their skin, and black shit dribbled out of every part of them and was set on unwhite fire.
As I got up, I was surprised to see the great emerald-skinned, four-winged figure of Commander Haru’Ara straighten up with me as well, his fisherman’s Hat still grasped in his hand.
His pearly eyes glanced at me, and he smiled slightly. “My memories are retained, Lady Traveler.” He placed the very out-of-place Hat upon his shiny, perfect head, and his Aura suddenly deepened with ominous power.
It was Good to have him here. Planetars were fighting types, and he had obviously taken up the death of the Shroud as a Great Holy Cause.
A crackle of threatening power resounded above us, and we both looked up at the hate lightning sizzling in the Shroudcloud above at our presence.
That, and the fully intact Death Gate we were almost standing under.
I hummed, and adjusted the Notes and Tones as the Sublime Chord reached out and tweaked the wilted, listless ley lines around me.
The Rules were different here. As expected, among other things, I wouldn’t be able to harvest ki with spells... but that was fine. I had Perpetual Spell now, and could use that while I recharged by shooting or bashing things, as needed.
Clavus had transformed under the impact of the Light from Heaven and the Shroudlord lighting off, no longer looking quite like a Storm Jotun’s thighbone at all, but a balanced and ready crystalline Battlestaff set to crush skulls with the bright red Dragon’s Pearl burning and popping with fire and electricity atop its seat of noquar.
Warlocks rose to their feet all around me. Firearms were now Autobows, but Swords, Spears, and Axes hadn’t changed at all.
I looked around at the blasted landscape, the putrid soil that was burning with vivus beneath our feet as the Warlocks automatically vented the Wrath of many Pacts into the landscape... and their Shroudpacts burned against it even brighter, instantly blowing out and turning the area beneath us pure white.
Above, the Shroudcloud crackled in more agitation, sensing Anathema.
I gestured, and from my Masspack rose one and twelve glittering diamonds, all of them glowing with a fell light, be it crimson or purple.
“Tats,” I said crisply, my own demon’s wings scribed with Celestial butterfly Runes spreading and lifting me into the air, while my horns manifested, also shimmering with Runework connected to my Diadem of Twinned Brilliance.
The men and women selected ahead of time raised up their shirts, and Binding Seals shimmered on skins dark, pale, and in between.
As the Planetar watched with interest, the diamonds flew out, and shattered against those Seals. Female forms were momentarily visible before they were sucked into the Seals, out of the reach of the Shroud. Binding Magic shimmered, and the eyes of the Warlocks glowed with fires of Hell and the Pits.
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“You know what to do.”
Pacts shimmered inside as new energies flowed through the mortal hosts. The ones who’d been chosen were the oldest of the Warlocks, some of them over a hundred years old, Powered and Primos alike, and their bodies began to shift and change, clothing adjusting with them as they were transformed.
Commander Haru’Ara arched one eye as suddenly over a hundred erinyes and succubi spread Wings emblazoned with at least two Pacts each, feathers and hide alike burning with them.
“Ah. That was why they were securing all of those,” he murmured thoughtfully, sensing no Evil at work here, incredibly enough.
“And we’ll do the same again,” I assured the planetar, and glanced aside at the genie cage hanging from my hair, as it had for so long.
Bey Garar’Azzar came forth in an eruption of fire and smoke.
“What is going on? Why am I not free of this cursed Shroud?” the efreeti exclaimed in frantic dismay, looking around himself. His succubi lover Ilzna was standing there, too, her hands on his arm, staring up at the Shroud in equal consternation.
He recalled who he was speaking to after meeting my eyes for a cool second, and hurriedly bent one knee to me. “Lady Traveler, why did the Wish not work?” he asked urgently.
“Bey Garar’Azzar, I have a Wish to ask of you,” I answered calmly. He still had one left for the day. “I Wish to have a book listing all the Wishes I have made with the power of Bey Garar’Azzar, in chronological order.”
“Granted!” he said quickly, waving his hand.
The magic swirled, and a weighty tome gathered in my hands, bound in obsidian, with sheets of pounded gold foil. I opened it up to the very first page, and looked at the Wishes written there, three to the page. “Ah.”
His face fell at the word. I turned the book around and showed it to him, his succubus consort dancing up next to him to look as well. “The Shroud has twisted the intent of the Wish. It was meant to work when the Shroud on Terra was broken. Instead, it realigned it to the Shroud everywhere.”
He grimaced with the knowledge that he had been outfoxed entirely, and by a stupid spell at that, on his own granted Wish!
“I can make another Wish for you.” I reached out and touched his forehead. “I have been using my powers to duplicate your ability to grant Wishes for some time now.” He gaped at me in shock, glanced at the planetar in time to see him nod in confirmation, and swallowed. “But, Bey Garar’Azzar, do you want me to?”
He swallowed as he looked into my eyes from where he was kneeling, feeling, as always, the power radiating off me, a Caster Level that could make the mightiest of genie caliphs bend a knee, let alone him. “What do you mean, Lady Traveler?” he asked softly.
“Have you had enough?” I asked him calmly. “Enough of debauchery, of looking on from the sidelines, as your peers and rivals rise to power, and you do not? Of playing the noble coward, instead of standing forth and doing battle as you should? Of becoming something, instead of just staying another fop of an efreet from the noble house of Azzar?”
He licked his lips nervously, looking around at the ranks of Warlocks, mortal and semi-mortal now, all watching him. All sworn to a Cause that might well take eternity to accomplish. “What, what are you asking of me, Lady Traveler?” he asked nervously.
Einz reached into my Masspack with TK, and drew out an Item Scroll, which promptly unfurled and then reverted to reality, becoming a towering armoire of marvelously crafted ebonwood with nurbrass fittings.
It creaked open, and the efreet gawked at the massive full set of dark mithril full plate armor, chased with designs of gold flames wrapping and embracing the metal, moving as if living themselves.
There was motion to the side, and he looked over as Commander Haru’Ara produced a long swordcase, beautifully wrought from dark bone, obsidian, atargold, and fire rubies.
“I understand you granted three Wishes to ease my suffering,” the planetar stated in a ringing clarion voice, and the efreet blushed whiteness at his words. “Accept this and the Duty of Fire that comes with it, and I shall consider my debt to you discharged.”
The case opened, and the efreet almost started drooling at the burning magnificence of the great Tulwar, angelic perfection and flaming glory wrought in adamantine and incandaplat, white heat on darkness.
QL 50, and humming with eleven Slots ready to be filled with combat and glory. A Legendary Tulwar, something the Efreet Sultan Himself would be thrilled to bear into combat.
No, Nine Slots, for one already hummed, and the first swirls of Vivus wound burning about it in the other, more like eager flames than the heavy mist it normally was.
“The Duty of Fire...” he repeated, despite himself, burning eyes filled with sudden longing.
“Long heard is the name of House Azzar, but short their reach, and their glory,” I told him knowingly, and he flushed white flames again at my words. “But... this is the Duty of Fire.” I gestured around us. “Look around you, Bey of the Efreet.” He rose despite himself, and looked around, avoiding looking too closely at the Death Gate towering above us so close. “Everything you can see... it must all burn in fire.”
Smoke began to rise from his horns as he considered that, and looked at the sky above.
“Under the Pact Morituri, the Pacts of all the Worlds of the Shroud are open. That includes the Pacts of Fire.
“Those Warlocks need a Patron for their Cause. The badge all those Warlocks will use will be that of an unknown son of no relevance of the House of Azzar, and worlds will burn before and behind them, cleansing them of death under the auspices of Heaven itself.
“Will you take up the Duty of Fire, and cleanse the worlds of the Shroud in Fire?”
His great fists clenched hard enough to make steaming blood come forth, flames danced over dark horns, and the fires of destiny burned in his eyes.
His head snapped around to stare at the waiting Tulwar.
Runes flared under his burning gaze, and smoke rose from adamant as they glimmered, like embers just fanned by his eyes.
To Ashes.
“I will join you!” he declared, his voice almost cracking, taking a step forwards and reaching forwards to grasp the hilt of the great Weapon, two-handed and perfectly made for an efreet of his size.
Flames billowed up around it, a low roar like a welding torch flaring with power.
He was going to be a one-track specialist in fire, but a very, very good specialist in fire!
He lifted it up to the sky, white-hot fires swirling about it, and swore, “To Ashes!”
“HAROO!” the assembled Warlocks cheered back, many of whom already had Fire Pacts from him.
Einz began disassembling the waiting Armor and clasping it about the efreet, as an old human woman, her hair going grey, face wrinkled and bent with effort, walked up next to me.
“I Wish for a warlord’s Helm of Difference, suitable for being worn by an efreet,” she said firmly through discolored teeth, some of which were missing, probably from the crushing blow that had disfigured the side of her face.
“Granted,” I told her, and magic swirled, coalesced into a dark Helm of eshbronze, big and heavy. Bey ‘Azzar’s eyes fixed on it, and then looked sharply at the out-of-place Hat on Commander Haru’Ara’s head, realizing something.
The Helm floated over to him and settled upon his head, obviously made for an efreet, swinging shut along his dark horns, which began to burn like blazing torches above him on their own.
“You must now choose your path. Dragon Warrior or Caster?” I said to him, and his eyes fell to the Blade in his hands. His choice was made before I spoke.
I turned my eyes to the succubus at his side, and Ilzna flinched as she met my eyes.
I gestured at the transformed men and women wearing composite faces and figures of erinyes and succubi to either side of us. “Will you ride a mortal to greatness and stand at the side of your man as worlds burn free of the Shroud you are trapped beneath, or cower in a genie prison, to come out like a skulking courtesan when all threats are gone?” I laid my hand on the woman beside me.
“Isharya has a Bloodline of Fire, but does not have the Charisma to make it work, and she has only been able to make Three.
“The undead took her husband and sons long ago, time her parents and siblings. The Buddhists took her daughters. She is but a Three, but she has chosen to fight.
“She can give you the power to fight back, and you can give her the strength and time to do so. But you must agree to the same Compact and standards of behaviors of all the others of your kind.
“If you do not want to do so, go hide back in your genie prison, and I’m sure one of the others will catch his eye.”
The succubus flushed, looking at the disfigured old woman, her one good eye nonetheless brimming with all the resolve she could muster at being ninety years old and in the shape she was in. Even with thirty years extra from being Powered, she was not in good condition.
But she had taken a Pact Morituri, and she was here.
She was definitely not a succubus’ preferred host, vain as they were, but that wasn’t going to be an issue, as the faces of the others only hinted at their mortal hosts anyways.
“I agree to this!” Ilzna blurted out quickly. Telepathic instructions followed as the Geas was confirmed. She did not even hesitate as she strode forward, reaching out for the Hindu woman’s spotted hands, and took them as she stared into the one good eye.
Binding Magic swirled, and the succubus dissolved into a swirl of dark smoke, entering in through all the openings on Isharya’s face.
The transformation was almost instantaneous, as Isharya straightened slightly, and a ripple ran across her skin, turning it first smooth and brown, restoring the glow of youth while removing wrinkles and spots, and then shifted again, turning it a deeper red, even as her hair went straight and jet black, and succubi horns arched backwards and up from her temples.
Shaking hands stilled, muscles grew taut and strong, bones creaked with new strength, and curves filled in where time had stolen them. When the crimson and black wings rose behind her, the effective change was complete... with no tail or feet shifting at this time.
She glanced at me with pure black eyes in a face that took the best of her youth and Ilzna’s demonic beauty, and I nodded.
She went down on one knee as she turned to face the very interested efreet, displaying her curves quite well, and knowing how to do so. “Great Bey of the Azzar! This lowly one seeks a Pact, and would know the Duty of Fire!”
The great breastplate’s front and back came together, hissing and sparking as they welded shut. He could reverse it with his will, so he was hardly sealed into it, but he was a big fellow in some huge armor now, and his whole demeanor had changed.
Bey Garar of the Azzar exhaled long and low, and looked out at all the Warlocks there, some of whom already had Fire Pacts with him.
But they were not the Duty of Fire.
He took a step forwards, raising that burning Tulwar over her head. “All who wish this Pact, and those who have to Sworn to Fire before me, kneel!” he stated in no uncertain terms.
All the Primos, and a fair number of the Powered, went down on one knee. Tellingly, that included almost all of the Possessed at this point.
“The Duty of Fire is a Mandate bestowed by Heaven. No efreet has ever taken up the Duty of Fire, so I shall be the first!” His voice was deep, and had a note of command and wonder to it I’d never heard from him. The great Scimitar in his hand swirled and danced with every syllable. “Hear now the Oath of the Duty of Fire!
“Fire cleanses, Fire purifies, Fire renders down what must be born anew.
“Promise you now to Cleanse the Corruption upon this world?”
“I DO!”
“Promise you to render unto ash that which should not live?”
“I DO!”
“Promise you to burn with fervor and stay the course, even if this world entire must burn beneath Heaven, so that life may start anew upon it?”
“I DO!”
“Ignite the Fire!” Pacts blazed on their skin as the magic came down. Old Pacts aligned with the efreeti dimmed, and primal fire blazed over their souls, flesh lit white-hot from within, and despite it all, even those nominally immune to fire now screamed at the pain.
“Fan the Embers!”
“Fan the Embers!” they croaked out, staggering as they burned, and ancient Words from Heaven in Pyric scrawled over their souls.
“Bring the Flame!” he demanded of them.
“BRING THE FLAME!” they called out with more force, voices rasping with fire.
“Endure, Unto Ashes!” He lifted his burning Sword high.
“UNTO ASHES!” they confirmed, fire ignited on the hands they raised high, forming burning swords of their own of eldritch fire.
I nodded at the sight. Multi-Pact Warlocks were the way to go, and he’d not cared who they were sworn to at this point. Under the Shroud, I could eventually gain countless Warlock Grandmasters, by dint of the Pact Morituri.
Isharya’s job was to gain Sorceress and Minstrel Levels. One to gain Power, and the other to gain Nog Perfection, and truly rise to power and be able to stand equal with the Bey. Melee and Archer Levels, plus NPC Classes, would provide the extra Masteries for her Warlock Levels, just as mine had for me.
Evil was strongest thataway... north north-east.
I reached into my Masspack, and pulled out another Item Scroll there.
This one had even more long rods on it, but this time, they anchored Walls of Fire, not Water, and I had a lot of fire-immune fliers who could carry them.
“Burn us a path clean, and let’s go find a Dead March to butcher,” I told them, and our Duty began once more.