Ties That Bind Final Recap
GM Mazreth posts the Final Recap for the Elven Nations storyline that just wrapped up. It’s an inside peak into Vindicto’s head…
Category: Towns
Topic: AnnouncementsDate: 02/22/2017 01:05 PM CSTFrom: GS4-MAZRETHSubj: Ties that Bind Final RecapOrcs, he hated orcs. They were even lesser than humans, if that was possible. How he had ever succumbed to that binding circle, he would never know. He had been a powerful sorcerer in life, even more so in unlife. He cursed himself for not recognizing the runes, for falling into that worthless whelp’s trap. Not much he could do for it now, what’s done is done. As long as the orb that bound him was attached to the scepter of power, he was destined to do the bidding of whoever controlled it. Perhaps if he could exert his will ,he could change things… Defeat, of course she was defeated. Such small minded fools often were, they didn’t dream big enough.Had it really been two years? Time held little meaning to him, trapped as he was. He often fought just to retain memories of who, and what he was. Pushing his will outward, attempting to thwart his captor’s plans, and planning his revenge if he were ever to free himself were all that kept him from sinking into a darkness that scared him. “Always with House Vaalor,” he spoke to the emptiness inside the orb. “Will this fool never learn? Still… they could be of some use, their rigidity may be their downfall,” he continued his inner monologue. They were smart for sure, maybe they would see through the disguise, see through the ridiculous statue, see through the trap. “Or not,” he sighed, “Their King’s pride is too great.” He did as he was commanded, wove his charms and illusions, turning the feeble excuse for a sorceress into an Aelotoi of all things. He trusted in magic, not the Arkati, and yet he found himself entreating their aid in ending his torment. He was never sure who answered his plea, as his captor was defeated and the Vaalorians in their ignorance separated his prison from its binding power source. He soon found his elation turn to ash in his soul as his prison was stashed away in darkness… in some vault to be left and forgotten.
He had no idea how long he had been in darkness, with only the sporadic mental contacts with the clerks outside to measure the passing of time. Slowly he reached out his will, sending only vague images at first to any minds he felt. The King, the darkness, the sorceress. Eventually, light flooded his prison as he saw the face of an elven King through the blue haze of the orb that entrapped him. He thrust images at the King with all of the force of mind he could muster. The sorceress, danger, her execution. The paranoia already present in the King’s mind due to the betrayal of the Aelotoi made him susceptible, a weakness Vindicto could exploit. He fed paranoia to the King, and His Majesty ate it up readily like the wounded gobbled down acantha leaf. He smiled to himself, if one without lips could smile. He knew he had his freedom, it would only take time.
Constantly he worked his newfound power, extending its reach until he had full possession of this “King”. Then came a new presence, this one much more guarded, which he soon came to know as a Lord Legionnaire Commander in the Legion. He could feel her thoughts, he knew she was charged with Royal security and was ever near to the King. She was much more wary than the King, and sought often to thwart his more diabolical commands to “His Majesty”. Slowly he worked at her, chipping away at the sense of loyalty and duty that guarded her mind. He used her sense of duty to the Crown against her, forcing King Tyrnian to issue edicts to her, each one more outrageous than the last. Slowly doubt built within her as the idea that her Liege could be mad took hold and provided an opening for him to utilize. A foothold was all he needed to corrupt her mind. He reveled in his victory the day she heeded her King’s command and executed the sorceress. Vengeance was his and it felt oh so sweet.
As things deteriorated within Ta’Vaalor, he fed the uncertainty and mistrust until the time was ripe. With a single command, Lord Legionnaire Commander Tiope entered the vault and secreted the orb, secreted him, within her jacket pocket as she hurried to fulfill his most audacious command. His freedom was at hand. The spirits had proven far easier to control early in his captivity, and the trolls even more so. They had provided a great distraction for his true plan, freedom. Even this latest command to assassinate King Tyrnian was truly nothing more than a ruse to cover his escape. That the King would die as a result was a happy coincidence to him. He felt the movement and heard the shouts around him as Tiope dragged the King through the fortress, through the gates, and onto the bridge. Fear gripped him for the first time in centuries as Tiope threw off his control and shouted some loyal nonsense that sickened him with its duty filled sentiments. The struggle was short, the lapse in control brief, and as he regained control he drew the knife across the monarch’s throat himself before conjuring a portal and stepping through.
He had no real clue as to the destination of the portal, he simply allowed the pull of spirits not at rest to guide him. He was pleasantly surprised to find himself in the ruins of the fabled ShadowGuard fortress. Such poetic justice that he would torment House Vaalor with their own dead soldiers, he cackled with uncharacteristic mirth. First things first, he calmed himself, it was time to be free of his prison. A simple thought was all it took, the self loathing and sense of failure inside Tiope had crushed all resistance to his commands. With a mighty downward stomp of her heavy boot, the fragile glass orb shattered and his spirit rose free once more. So ironic that such a delicate object had held him so tightly for so many years. How many had it been? Six, seven? He had lost count. They would pay for his time in the darkness, pay with more than their King’s life. He felt his power magnified with his freedom and he easily pierced the veil, calling forth a massive oculoth. Without a word, he commanded it to enter the beaten soldier and her feeble resistance proved futile as the demon easily occupied her being. “Marshal the undead forces here,” he snapped raspily, “For we assault the elven nations soon. I will rebuild the Faendryl empire of old and punish those usurping Houses in the process.”
He was disappointed, of course, when Tiope managed to wrest control of her actions from his baby and fall on her sword, but no matter. It was just another step along the way. They didn’t even know he existed yet. There would be time. Taking refuge in his ancestral home of Old Ta’Faendryl, he spent the next couple of years perfecting his arts, growing his power. When his demons, his “babies”, obeyed him without hesitation it was time. Once again he assaulted the fortress of Ta’Vaalor, unleashing his babies upon them. Time and again they fought him back but he didn’t care, he was probing their weaknesses, looking for holes in their vaunted defenses. What was that cursed monk doing here anyway? The voln master’s presence made his babies uneasy. He had the intelligence he needed, it was time to withdraw.
As he became more familiar with the magics encapsulating Old Ta’Faendryl, Vindicto sensed an attunement he had never felt before. Focusing on it, following the threads of magic, he pierced the veil and found himself staring into an alien world. A being stepped through, similar to those he had seen in the old city. It was an Ithzir, but larger than the others, a true champion of their race. Sensing a presence, he took stock of his surroundings and found himself amid a great number of Ithzir of all sorts, all of them staring intently at their champion. He knew enough of summoning to know that he controlled this champion, and it was obvious the other Ithzir followed it. He smiled a wicked, evil smile. He had another army.
The assaults began in earnest. Vindicto sent his army of undead, Ithzir, and demons against the fortress of Ta’Vaalor with occasional assaults on Ta’Illistim as well. The assaults on Ta’Illistim were mainly diversionary in nature, but every ounce of pain inflicted on the usurping Houses was a win in his book. Time and again, his attacks were repelled despite exploiting the weaknesses he had discovered. He sent deathworms under the walls and war griffins over them, all to no avail. He had not anticipated the amount of outside aid that would arrive, nor the excellent organization of the defense. He was losing this war!
After weeks of battle and numerous losses, he didn’t really care about the undead there would always be more, he hastily withdrew back into Old Ta’Faendryl summoning a wall of shadows to guard his temporary abode. Curse the persistence of the elves! They had dug through the histories and discovered who he was and now pushed their advantage with a brilliant pincer move that sent forces into the old city while others occupied his army in Ta’Vaalor. Slowly the attackers assaulted the shadows, picking away at it with spells of light. He summoned more of his babies and several Ithzir champions to be at the ready should they break through. His forces had been defeated in Ta’Vaalor and the group in the old city had been reinforced by more troops. His babies were no match for the combined force and were quickly dispatched. He had expended too much of himself in summoning so many demons at once. He was weakened, vulnerable, and using much of his remaining power just to hold his form together. There was nothing left to do, his forces depleted, his babies slain, he took to the fight himself. Each blow the enemy landed made it harder and harder to maintain his form. Each expenditure of power required to pull himself back together weakened him further till there was little left. One would think he had some inclination for what the elves had felt, but that would require empathy which he did not possess. For every attacker he slew, two more stepped in to take its place. He faded in and out of existence, hitting them where he could. One among them must have noticed some pattern, for his swing was timed perfectly as Vindicto faded into existence for the last time. He felt his life force unraveling as the magic that had maintained his form for so long sped away from him. He felt his very essence torn to shreds. As he lay there consumed by shadows, one last thought went through his mind, “At least I’ve left the Ithzir their Champions to guard my home…” With that, he was no more.
~Mazreth
“Mother should I trust the Government?”
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