BECMI Chapter 115 – More Imperial Ambitions

A massive spiked Club, suitable for the hands of a giant, not a mortal. It was embedded in stone at the heart of the Ward Formation, that being reduced to slag and dust and worse all about the untouched gigantic Weapon, easily twice as tall as I was. It wasn’t a thing of Entropy, but could clearly see traces of enchantment/charm magic on it, in addition to rote Elemental fire and similar powers. That was going to be a bad thing to lay my hand on. Happily, I didn’t have to do so to get rid of the thing. I off to the Immortal. Two breaths later there was a swirl at my side as he right in next to me, riding the reply of the to do so very discreetly indeed. “Carconadyx, the Club of Contention,” he informed me grandly. “Passed down by the Great God Surt to free the fire giants of their domination by the cloud and storm giants, spurring them into a great war of freedom that drove the greater giants forth and let the lesser giants find their own paths!” he announced pompously, yet grimly. I read between the lines. “It prompted a civil war among the giants and ripped them apart,” I paraphrased. “Surt is an alias of Gulguz, I take it?” “Yes, and fire giants are among his favored servants, even if they are lacking in magical ability themselves. He styles himself the foremost master of fire among the Immortals of Energy, you know.” He seemed to like sharing tidbits with mortals he wasn’t supposed to. As I already knew too much regardless, he could hardly get into trouble for it. It was also an oblique clue hidden in trivia. I could be expecting trouble from fire giants in the near future, probably. And the fucker was obsessed with fire? He might have been going a bit crazy looking at what I’d just done with Burning his own granted Fire Magic apart. I wanted to chortle, and instead kept my face nice and impassive. I was perfectly aware that brains didn’t equal originality, that emotion fueling belief didn’t make something true, and old farts often get calcified in their minds and modes of thinking. A god thinking he was the best with fire didn’t make it true by ANY stretch of the imagination. “Decide what you want done with it, elder,” I said dismissively. “If you wish it destroyed, tell me how to do so, or make it a Quest for one of your Aspirants.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “The value of this to the fire giants is immeasurable,” he pointed out cheerfully. “Whosoever bears it shows Surt’s favor and will be their next great king or warlord!” “You are not actually trying to involve me in jotun politics, are you, elder?” My voice turned even flatter. “Ah, but the potential for fun and adventure, for hoodwinking slow-witted brutes, and for making an absolute fortune!” “If you think those are motivations for me, your skills in personal judgment are suspect, elder.” “Mmm, no, I suppose not. You are almost depressingly blunt and straightforward.” Oh, if only he knew. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take possession of this temple complex, fill it with tricks and traps and foul defenders and great beasts, and make of it a destination for some intrepid souls.” “If you could move the surviving supplies from the temple stores into the first border fort on the edge of the vales-folk territory, I think you could create yourself some remarkably devout worshipers at the cost of only a minor miracle and perhaps getting a cleric or three up here to spread the good word around.” He gave me another sly eye. “Mercy to the subjugated?” “Is that what you call a free and easy recruitment of worshipers? As you wish, Elder,” I sniffed at him, and he realized I was calling him out for pomposity, when he’d actually been digging at my motivations. It also meant he might even be me for handing him some potential servants for ‘free’, as opposed to using up this favor them. “I will leave this toy in your hands, Elder,” I finished up, turning away. “I have a conjurer of Soul Eaters to kill. Keep an avatar manifested and I will deliver his skull to you with a as to its location, Elder.” ------ Jillius thought in some amusement as he began to restructure Gulguz’s temple. The old fool of a fire-addicted sot had already left the area, doubtless seething, but also putting these humans he’d cultivated so long completely out of his mind. That they had died was now of no consequence, only an insult to his name and power he probably wouldn’t let go. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. There were clans of fire giants living further to the west. When Surt spoke to them, they would move, and they would kill anything in their way as they did so. They didn’t have the numbers to conquer and hold, but the damage they could do from marching and raiding could bring down even Iberon… and not incidentally reclaim this temple and the Artifact within it. He’d given her the hints she might need to forestall such a crusade, and he could certainly make this place a chilling deathtrap against the fire jotuns, so that they would have to earn this Artifact. Which meant, in the end, that Lady Edge would likely have to be the one to destroy it after all! Delighted at his own manipulations, Jillius continued with his tasks. Making up a fun Dungeon out of abandoned ruins was always entertaining, and he had some new tricks he wanted to try out here… ------ Duum swooped down out of the sky towards the Korshwa riders who were stewing at the edge of the vales, clearly debating swooping in and taking everything that wasn’t nailed down. I was seen, because I wanted to be seen, and they were always careful to make sure I wasn’t in the sky when they started moving. That I was coming right for them was not something they were eager to see. But I’d not killed any of them as yet, so although they were visibly flustered and uneasy, none of them ran away as I came gliding in on my crimson and jet giant Bat. I didn’t land. Duum came to a silent and unmoving halt twenty feet above them and facing them. They all grimaced at the sight of him hovering there motionless, and me sitting atop him in skirts of scarlet and black, his hat cocked jauntily on his head and monocle firmly in place. “The Khirifi are extinguished,” I informed the suspicious and fearful horsemen, the words generating a lot of eyes looking at one another in both relief and even more fear. They’d seen the burning on the horizon, between the mountains, and wondered what it portended. Now they knew. “One of their gods’ rivals has decided to take the valefolk under his wing,” I went on coldly, causing them to shift uneasily. “You have two choices before you now. “You can sweep down into the vales, and they do not have the strength to defy you. You can complete the work the Khirifi made of them, and in doing so piss off an Immortal who I am sure will find an entertaining way to doom you all.” They stirred and made gestures against the evil eye. “Or you can do something momentous that will be remembered for generations. You can ride in to give them aid, sit down with them in the spirit of brotherhood, and forge something strong enough together that what was done to you by the Khirifi just might not ever happen again. In doing so, you might just gain the goodwill of an Immortal who will be utterly shocked to see you acting in the name of mutual benefits instead of selfishness… and you will utterly fucking piss off the burning god of the Khirifi, who wishes only war and conflict between everyone the Khirifi touched.” Thoughtful looks were exchanged. “The vengeance of Gulguz will be coming in due time. I think the Korshwa could use all the friends they can gain at that time.” Duum began to rise into the air as I stared unblinking at them. “I will be watching, horsemen. Impress me.” They were looking at one another, wondering what to do as Duum flapped once, and became a streak of darkness flashing into the rising sun. There were a lot of quiet words exchanged between the horsemen of Korshwa, but they didn’t go raiding across the border that night, or any night thereafter. If they did not extend a hand of aid, at least they respected the old borders between vale and plains, and did not raise old grudges once more. The Khirifi had taken enough from everyone, and if the Korshwa were opportunists, well, not pissing off an Immortal was a good way to live one’s life, too. -------- I knew right where to go to find Egranzier the Manifold, of course. His Divination Wards didn’t hide his backtrail for out that Simulacrum, and if I couldn’t see inside the walled tower he called home on the edge of the wealthy and conservative (read, owned by warring noble families engaged in murdering one another untraceably as often as they could) city of Polshenia, well, that really, really wasn’t a problem. He had beefed-up gargoyles on his tower, golems worked into the walls, animated suits of armor, and two armored hill giants for door guards with a chimera between them. I could see hanging spells about the place ready to bring in more defenders with alarms or other triggers. It was a big, impressive, ominous, and brooding place for a Thirty to ply his magical trade from, and not conducive to outsiders. Still, he was smart enough not to have demons hanging around for others to point at, and if he had undead minions, he was keeping them out of sight. Pretty sure there were at least two bone golems in the place, however. But none of that concerned me. The only thing that did was down below. Naturally he was an evil Wizard, and naturally he thus had a Dungeon below him, where all the really serious stuff happened, where his real Summoning chamber was, his treasure vaults were located, his most powerful minions were ensconced, and all his experiments were carried out. Excavating those kinds of places with magic wasn’t all that hard, if you were patient. Earth Elementals could do a lot of the work, from Summoned Efreet could do more, spells could excavate ten-foot cubes in a flash of vanishing matter, umber hulks could claw through the stone with great speed, and so forth and so on. , I gathered from the feel of the stone as I stepped out of the wall at the deepest part of the place. The Tower and Dungeon were ensconced by Wards that would keep out enemy extraplanar creatures and burrowers, but I was neither of those, and temporarily suppressing them so I could saunter through them and out at the bottom of his holdings was not very difficult. The tunnel I’d closed itself behind me, and I was inside his holdings. I actually wasn’t interested in very much here. I just walked down the corridor of what looked like some manner of supply hall towards the middle of the complex. It naturally had a closed door, which was to only open to him… or a mage with a Caster Level much stronger than his. I flicked it open, and it creaked slightly as I stepped out into what was obviously his main Summoning chamber. The twenty-foot giant made of solid shadow that was occupying the massive Summoning circle in the middle of the room turned around to face me.