The Open Door (megacrossover)

[TheClueless]

It's marked with bright colours so you can scroll down to where my contribution starts

Just as a reminder and warning, that is NSFW by a large degree and is me unleashed upon the crude, unapologetic world of UPF. Do not tread lightly there.

So. Beautiful!

To be a bit more serious, I have to wonder who'll be the first group to "visit" newChaos' Earth? A diplomatic party from the TSAB and/or SG-1? The refugees from the Twelve Colonies? Skuld and the erinyes?

In any event - even though you'll almost certainly have to tone the details given (if you're going to post it on FF.net) - the culture shock should be interestng to watch.

[EarthScorpion]

To be a bit more serious, I have to wonder who'll be the first group to "visit" newChaos' Earth? A diplomatic party from the TSAB and/or SG-1? The refugees from the Twelve Colonies? Skuld and the erinyes?

In any event - even though you'll almost certainly have to tone the details given (if you're going to post it on FF.net) - the culture shock should be interestng to watch.

Unless it were, via some chain of events, the Culture's Contact agents were the ones visiting, in which case the general response would probably be a mixture of "meh", "Done it before", "Can I have a go", and "You know, your cultural attitudes are remarkably advanced for a civilisation which doesn't even have proper Back-Ups yet."

Wow. You've actually made a civilisation derived from 40k that the Culture wouldn't automatically condemn. Mind you, is what Mislaato, Tzintchi, Asukhon and Reigle do for their people really that different from what the Minds do, both with regards to monitoring and the difference in capability between them and the average citizen? Not really, I'd say.

[MichaelAwesome]

Very unlikely. For security’s sake, Chaos Undivided wouldn’t want to bring any outsiders to their home planet until they beefed up their military infrastructure a lot more, as there’s always the risk of enemies trying to follow them back to their headquarters.

When your list of possible enemies includes GODS!!! , multi-dimensional empires, and Lovecraftian horrors, no safety precaution is too outrageous. It’s not just a matter of trusting their allies, but allies can be compromised or turn against you. However, I’m sure they have “safe houses” in other dimensions for diplomatic meetings, just like the “show villages” Soviet Russia had for western visitors to show off how great Communism is.

For example, at the beginning of the Stiletto voyage, it had to zig-zag across several dozen dimensions before finally arriving at its intended destination of the Star Trek universe to prevent anyone from backtracking their energy trail through the Warp.


P.S. They’re a culture that glorifies violence and sadomasochistic behavior, but highly protective of children. What kind of pets do children have? In primary school gym class, do they have to wrestle alligators or something?

[Valorie]

Wait, I thought followers of Chaos are against clones and artificial intelligence. The cyborg that talked with President Roslin gave a passionate speech about how they’re not mass-produced on some factory assembly line, and how they have emotions unlike most Cylons.

Robots can’t vote because you know they’re preprogrammed to support Republicans.

[Academia Nut]

Wait, what? Where's this bit about clones and robots and such? Unless you're talking about the Culture. They do have robots though, at least for industrial settings. The cyborg was just trying to point out the fact that they're not like the Colonials enemies, that they willingly choose the enhancements done to them and thus they would not force such things upon others.

And I highly doubt the Culture would get along with newChaos. Sure, they would have more issues with the Necrontyr empire, but newChaos isn't exactly a happy fun ball. People do die in the duels, a lot, even if the majority of the duels aren't specifically to the death, and Chaos practices horrific tortures upon those they deem "deserve it". They're vicious and while they don't go out of their way to cause casualties like their predecessors, they have an absolute disregard for the lives of others in war. They have good points to balance out the psychoses, but the Culture would immediately consider them a threat. Maybe not directly as newChaos isn't stupid enough to take on the Minds, and the Minds are smart enough to know that newChaos is smart enough to know that, but Chaos of any sort is a pretty big offence to Culture sensibilities. Especially the whole 'eating the backups' thing that the gods do to the large majority of the souls of the dead.

[Firethorn]

People do die in the duels, a lot, even if the majority of the duels aren't specifically to the death, and Chaos practices horrific tortures upon those they deem "deserve it". They're vicious and while they don't go out of their way to cause casualties like their predecessors, they have an absolute disregard for the lives of others in war. They have good points to balance out the psychoses, but the Culture would immediately consider them a threat. Maybe not directly as newChaos isn't stupid enough to take on the Minds, and the Minds are smart enough to know that newChaos is smart enough to know that, but Chaos of any sort is a pretty big offence to Culture sensibilities. Especially the whole 'eating the backups' thing that the gods do to the large majority of the souls of the dead.

Thing is, those duels are voluntary, right? While not the thing for the Culture, normally speaking, but the fact that both participants agree to the terms, the Culture will be like 'meh'.

As for warfare, while the Culture IS quite discriminatory - they're also quite capable of scorched earth tactics, and the very scale of their conflicts will tend to leave lots and lots of dead.

Though the 'eating the backups' might get them pissed at the gods, I doubt it'll do much to the lower end types.

[Academia Nut]

Preview of the next chapter

[Academia Nut]

Chapter Fifty-two: Visions of the Future

Sometimes it really, really, really didn’t pay to be proactive, as the Riders of Nesmé were finding out as bands of shadows bound them and their mounts still. Their little ambush had gone well to start, downing three of the she-devils and making a pincushion of the male leader. Unfortunately, the strange creature just looked exasperated at the arrows sticking out of him and at the riders charging down at him with lances, and then the devils returned fire with a withering, rapid fire volley of flaming arrows that took out several of the Riders.

Then the now thoroughly perforated creature took a strange object off its back and activated the strange wand/staff-thing with a tremendous roar of fire and noise, causing Andre, the paladin at the forefront of the charge, to die messily as his head exploded. The creature then hurled some sort of mental magical attack that slew Andre’s lieutenant Kris, his mental screams as his soul was shredded causing the all the horses and many of the men to panic, destroying the momentum of the charge before it had a chance to hit the tiny cluster of devils.

It was at that point that the damnable dark goddess had shown up, some sort of fallen angel emerging out of her back and carrying her aloft. She had immediately sent a wave of shadows over their band and immobilized them all.

She had then run up to the savage killer at the heart of the formation and jumped into his arms, planting a kiss on his face before she disengaged due to the fact that the projectiles sticking out of his body made such a move rather awkward.

Now she was quietly talking with the monster, which was nonchalantly pulling the arrows out of his head and trying to talk reason to the goddess, who kept sending the Riders murderous glances. They in turn tried to glare her and her damned creatures to death. Meanwhile the she-devils looked over the ones that had gone down in the initial volley, and unfortunately one had already managed to stand back up, if a touch shakily. The other two however looked like they were not going to get back up.

On the whole, it hadn’t been worth it, but still, it was good to see two devils erased from the multiverse.

Then the creature said something as it pulled the last arrow out of its body that made the dark goddess grin in a fashion that caused even the devils to take a step back from the palpable aura of menace.

The goddess took a step forward and said, “Riders of Nesmé, you attacked my husband and his allies out of some sort of misguided desire to punish evil without first learning all the facts, an act he and I consider evil. For your transgressions, you are punished to become what you are, forever. Ride the skies, seeking out evil, true evil, to atone for your sins.”

She then started chanting, her angel singing along with her while wisps of shadow began to swirl about her feet. Tendrils reached out and wrapped about the dead devils, causing their forms to combust, the hellfire adding embers and ash to the shadow. Once fully combusted, she drew the umbral embers back to her, clutching a tornado of black and orange to her breast.

Then, with a terrible cry, she hurled the energies at the Riders, catching in a swirling holocaust of destructive energies that flayed them and their horses to the bone… but not beyond that. As their own flesh burned, they did not die. No, a far worse fate awaited them.

The metal of their armour and weapons peeled back and melted, flowing about their burning bodies and reforming into thick chains that bound the riders to servitude. Their clothing combusted but did not turn to ash and fly away, rather reforming into the thick garments of semi-nomadic herders they had never seen but that Lars and Skuld knew very well.

When the dread spell was complete, approximately three hundred men and three hundred horses had been transformed, all their flesh stripped away and turned to halos of hellfire and night black smoke about their burning skeletons. They wore long coats and heavy leathers that seemed perpetually singed but never actually ignited. Wrapped around them were chains of steel that seemed to only be solid on a thin, cracked crust on the surface for one could see the white hot glow of molten metal beneath. From their right arms the chains draped down, long whips of molten cold iron wreathed in hellfire ready for use in the service of the one that had just claimed them. Meanwhile their mounts had been transformed into skeletal nightmares, snorting yellow-white flames while their glowing orange hooves struck sparks of molten iron across the ground.

Paladins, rangers, fighters, and even clerics of other gods had made up the Riders of Nesmé. They had all been transformed, every last one of them involved in the attack, their souls claimed irretrievably by Skuld’s magic.

“The fires of hell that composed your victims shall burn you forever, and lightning shall lash your backs. Every blow you strike against an enemy shall reverberate with you, their pain becoming yours and visa versa, but death shall never claim you. Only those who can see beyond your horrific exterior can grant you love and gratitude shall be able to quench the fires that burn at you… for a time. Go now my Ghost Riders and gallop across the skies and seek your salvation in the arms of others less judgemental than you. Go my Wild Hunt and pursue the wicked that would torment the weak, regardless of species. Go!” Skuld commanded.

Compelled by more than just the fear and pain that tormented them, the Riders mounted their flaming steeds and whipped them on with their chains, striking sparks as they took to the skies, the hooves of their horses finding purchase upon thin air as if it were a cobbled street. As they ascended, the trails of smoke about them coalesced into dark black thunderclouds, lightning leaping from the storm to lash at the riders, causing them to cry out with pain but harming them not in the least.

Back on the ground, Lars turned to the utterly stunned and more than a little terrified looking Erinyes and said, “I would like to introduce you all to my very recent wife, Skuld.”


For Lars’ part, getting hit with about three dozen arrows simultaneously had just put the capstone on a really crappy week spent stuck in a hell dimension with his mood steadily worsening while the lawful nature of the plane he was on tried to reject his chaotic essence, making him itch while accompanied by ten very annoying ladies. It wasn’t that they were actively annoying, it was just that they made Lars suddenly appreciate his gods a great deal more.

He suddenly realized why they pushed the medieval evil look so much. Medieval evil was stupid! It made for very effective cover for the true intelligence of the gods.

Oh sure, the devils were quite intelligent and quick witted, it was just that they could not comprehend many of the finer philosophical points Lars tried to talk to them about despite the fact that he was an amateur. The worst bit was that they were the ones who kept bringing up discussions of order and chaos or good and evil.

Finally they had made it to a portal and from there back to the material world where emotions were not so polluting. They had then scouted about with teleportation and flight for a bit before Lars decided to land near a village with a large camp next to it. Lars had decided to land on the opposite side of the village from the camp so as to not spook the locals if this wasn’t the right place.

And he got a bodkin or eight to the face for his trouble.

Watching the bastards who did it ascending into the sky made Lars grin, especially when he factored in the gobsmacked looks on the faces of the Erinyes. They had just received a rather stark demonstration on the difference between their morality and his, although Skuld’s reaction may have been overdoing it just a bit. Then again he had suggested the whole ghost rider thing.

Nodding sagely, Skuld then turned back to Lars and tackled him, dragging him to the ground as she attempted to smother him, gripping him tightly and driving his face into her chest while she cried about missing him. Had Lars needed to breathe, he might have been smothered by her breasts, which were admittedly filling out nicely and were at least a B cup now, if still mostly hidden beneath her voluminous clothing.

Morphing his body, he slipped out of Skuld’s grip so that while she was still on top of him, at least now they were face to face. Swirling tears of penumbrae ran down her face like grey ink and dripped on his face, causing him to say gently, “Hey, where’s the scary vengeful goddess now?”

“She’s done punishing the naughty mortals and now she wants to kiss her husband,” Skuld said wetly. “You can be such an idiot sometimes, you know? Why’d you have to charge the enemy lines like that? Are you that afraid of the honeymoon?”

Smirking, Lars said, “You know I do what I do so that not only can we have a honeymoon, but so that our child might grow up to one day have her own.”

That triggered fresh tears mixed with laughter and Skuld said, “Just kiss me you dumb ass.”

“Uh… there is now a rather large crowd of onlookers,” Lars pointed out.

“So just make it a kiss. And I want it a good one, with plenty of tongue… or tongues in your case,” Skuld demanded breathlessly, her hair falling out of place to create a little screen for their faces as she bent down over Lars.

Still, from the right angle one could see their lips locking and things exiting Lars’ mouth and entering Skuld’s. After a few seconds they broke off, Skuld panting heavily as she touched her throat delightedly while she still straddled Lars’ stomach.

Looking up at the still rather surprised Erinyes, Lars said jokingly to Skuld, “In the tradition of my people, I present to my wife a small harem for our own amusement.”

Before the Erinyes had time to respond to that Skuld placed a finger on her chin ponderingly and said, “Can they lick a good pussy or are they exclusively cock munchers?”

Lars burst out laughing while the devils stared at the impropriety. Lars had been a terrible influence on Skuld, especially the infusion of tiny bits of daemon, and her mouth had been getting fouler when she got into certain moods.

Gently pushing of Skuld so she would get up, Lars stood and brushed the dirt off him before he said, “Alright, more formally, Skuld, I would like you to meet the Erinyes I have made a contract with, although we are now down two members. Still surviving are Beth, Autu, Orin, Farongi, Lalirgor, Caut, Cagliro, and their leader Falagoro. Erinyes, this is Skuld, my wife.”

As one the Erinyes bowed and said, “As we are bound to serve your mate, so we serve you, our lady.”

“Don’t mind them when they try to tempt you to evil, they’re really bad at it,” Lars replied dismissively.

Falagoro frowned at him and protested, “I have personally damned over a hundred mortals!”

Waving it off, Lars replied, “Yeah, but you were playing in the kiddie leagues. People live shit lives here with few places to turn for help and they’re easy to tempt and trick with petty trinkets and cheap tactics. Try taking on a more advanced, prosperous people and you’d have to really step up your game.”

“Mortals will always lust after power greater than their station,” Falagoro retorted.

Lars chewed on his upper lip for a moment in contemplation before he turned to Skuld and asked, “What have you built so for?”

Skuld grinned and said, “Enough Enfields for a demonstration.”

“Sweet. Girls, sit back and watch as I remove fear through its inspiration,” Lars said as he followed Skuld back to town.


The people of Nesmé watched in terror from within the confines of their town as the goddess that had enslaved their enemies and just destroyed their protectors walked into her camp, a strangely yet ornately dressed man following behind her. They walked into a tent and then came out carrying what looked like a very poorly constructed club as it was far too thin to be truly effective and the metal and wood was distributed all wrong.

The man then moved over to a cleared area and set up what looked like several archery targets. He then took up position at the far end of the range he had established and turned to the town, announcing in a booming voice, “People of Nesmé! You have offended us when we offered you peace, friendship, and trade. Your Riders have attacked us unprovoked when we offered to lend you our strength. We are angered, but those of you hiding in your homes did not break the agreement Skuld made with you, so our wrath shall remain in check. So instead, we offer you a demonstration of true power.”

The man then raised the strange metal thing to his shoulder, as if it were a crossbow, and with a terrible crack and a puff of greasy smoke that smelled strongly of brimstone to those close enough to notice such things, he caused one of the heads of the dummies to explode in a shower of straw and splinters of wood.

Turning back to the town, he said, “This here is a rifle, approximately modelled after the Pattern 1853 Enfield although incorporating some of the characteristics of a Springfield 1861. It fires a .577 calibre Minie ball bullet, nasty little round that can easily remove a limb if it doesn’t just blow your guts or brains out. For a muzzleloader, it has excellent range, accuracy, and rate of fire. But the real power of this beauty here is that with the proper tools and training, anyone can make one. This is a major advantage as anyone can use one. Typical training time is a few weeks to achieve proficiency, instead of the years it takes to train with a sword or decades for magic.”

Holding the rifle high, he said, “This is power! This is more power, range, accuracy and output than a crossbow combined with the ease of learning of a pike. The single crack you just heard was the precursor to a thousand of these babies going off all at once in single volley of death. This is also a representation of the future. This is steel and industry and ingenuity all rolled into a single symbol. This gun represents a society that never fears where the next meal is coming from. This gun represents a society that only fears fear itself. This gun represents mastery over the world.”

Some rather brave or stupid individual cried out, “We don’t want your demon magic!”

Lars laughed a long and booming laugh before he cried out, “This weapon was invented by the malignant little minds of humans! There is nothing magical about this weapon, other than just how brutally effective it is in comparison to the pointy toys you have now. Although it in turn is a toy in comparison to the next, harder step.”

Lars tossed the rifle over to Skuld, who adroitly caught it before pulling out a much more sinister looking weapon, one that was more metal than wood. Tossing it to Lars, she then pulled out a curving, sickle shaped piece of metal and tossed it to him.

“Take a good look at this sucker, because it’s going to be years before we’ll have the ammo manufacturing capacities to actually make widespread use of it. People of Nesmé, I present to you the Kalashnikov!” Lars cried out before he opened up on full auto, shredding the target dummies in horrific sprays of wood and straw.

He then ejected the sickle part of it and caught a fresh one from Skuld. Turning back to the town, he asked with a grin, “Do I need to use up another magazine, or do you all get the idea?”

There was stunned silence from the town in the wake of the unholy racket.

“In the following weeks we will work to begin the long, arduous task of upgrading your industries, transforming you from a struggling frontier town into a prosperous city. You will never have to fear the monsters around you again, not because we will impose order, but because you will be stronger than them. There are wonders you cannot imagine we will show you. We will teach you new methods of agriculture, new methods of industry, and new methods of industry. We will introduce you to words like rifle, cannon, battery, mortar, Gatling, and maybe, just maybe in your lifetimes you will hear things like plane or even tank. These are all human words, dreamed up by people on a world where all the monsters had been hunted to extinction long ago and only man’s wars against man existed.”

Lars then frowned and said, “But do not think for one second we will tolerate your abuse of our allies, those whose only crime is that they were born different from you. We judge not on skin or shape, but on action. This world is full of dangers; do not make us amongst them. Think of the future, think of your children. Do you want them standing strong, shoulder to shoulder, the thinks that have hunted you cowering in their holes against them, or do you want them vanished to the mists of history? Choose people of Nesmé, and choose carefully.”


As Lars moved away from his little show, he said to Skuld, “Where are we now?”

“Augmenting with magical fabrication, we can get a major steel foundry up and running within a month. The swamps are apparently littered with rare metals, and now that the trolls have been ‘convinced’ to stop eating people, we can acquire resources much more easily. Rifle and ammunition production is still worse than what 18th century cottage industry could do, but now that we’ve settled on a basic design, we can start ramping up quickly. The Kalashnikov I had to make personally just to show off, but if we have a standard pattern for rifle, pistol, and shotgun we can have maybe an army of two thousand with cavalry and artillery support ready in three months, what with the fact that many of the refugees we brought with us from Menzoberranzan were slaves of House Roreril,” Skuld said.

“That’s good, but what I meant was…” Lars then rounded on Skuld, and picked her up in a tight embrace, their lips locked. At first Skuld was shocked, but she almost instantly melted into it.

Pulling away, Lars said, “I’ve been at your side for months now and until I had to spend a week without you I didn’t realize how much I missed you. I still think you’re a bratty, immature bitch, but you’re my bratty, immature bitch.”

Her eyes moist, Skuld said, “And you’re a psychotic, soul eating eldritch horror from beyond, but you’re my eldritch horror from beyond and I now think I have a major tentacle fetish… I’ve been watching the drow women who came along with us give demonstrations of their erotic arts, just for you.”

Lars smiled and said, “You do know that I don’t really have any sort of physiology that they could exploit in that way, it’s all just undifferentiated Warp stuff solidified in this universe’s high energy fields.”

Skuld pouted and said, “Who said it was all for you? Now give me a face full of alien feelers.”

Unfortunately for Skuld, her enjoyment of having tentacles gently caress her face, eyelids, and throat in soft, sensuous feather touches and one big one jammed half way down her esophagus without touching her uvula was interrupted by a sudden commotion on the far side of the camp.

“Now what?” Skuld bitched.

Lars shook his head and tapped her on the nose with a finger before he said, “Wrong attitude lady. The proper attitude,” Lars then pulled out his shotgun and chambered a round with a pump, “is who's next?”

Rushing over to where the refugees were all retreating, the sight that greeted them was rather bizarre collection of giant, shadowy green spiders stepped out of swirling pools of darkness. There were also smaller ones seemingly made of metal that accompanied them, and some strange ones that were pale and seemed to phase in and out of reality. That wasn’t the bizarre part.

The bizarre part was the fact that at the centre of the grouping, riding on the largest of the shadowy spiders was a tiny little rabbit-spider thing with a mallet in its mouth.

Then Lars dropped the biggest bombshell when he reported what his senses were telling him.

“They’re all female… and they’re all pregnant… with that System Bug’s children,” Lars said with a strangely horrified look on his face that was quickly mirrored by Skuld.

The bug then hopped down off it’s… well queen seemed the right word… and strode over to Lars and Skuld before depositing the hammer thought lost for months at Skuld’s feet. It then looked up at them with a stare that dared them to turn it against him.

“Holy fuck, I think the biggest badass in the group that came over from your universe was the bug!” Lars exclaimed.

Skuld blinked once. Skuld blinked twice. Skuld blinked three times before she picked up the mallet and stashed it away, before giving the bug a little kiss on its rabbit head. Pleased with itself, it hopped away back into its harem and directed them all back into the shadows.

Smiling, Skuld said, “I say we kill Lolth and give the spider part of her portfolio to him.”

“If he doesn’t beat us to the punch,” Lars murmured.

---

I may have D&D stats for the Ghost Riders tomorrow.

[dragon]

That was awsome However think I missed something with the bugs, why did it give her the debugging hammer back Also whats with the spiders think I missed an update some where.

[Darkemace]

That was awsome However think I missed something with the bugs, why did it give her the debugging hammer back Also whats with the spiders think I missed an update some where.

If I had to guess, I would say that the returned hammer was for all intents and purposes the bug asking for a treaty, or at least a pact of non aggression.

[Academia Nut]

Yeah, returning the hammer was to say, "Yeah, you could try and smash me with it, but I think we're both better off if you don't."

[EarthScorpion]

And mentioning that spider-bug and its apparent harem, Rask is going to love that. As in, "first-disciple-of-the-new-gods-of-Spiders-once-we-get-round-to-finishing-off-Lloth" love that. All these arachnoid species, as well as the new ones that will be coming rather soon.

And I just realised that Ao doesn't have a proper debugging system set up. When the ickle ones are born... there will be trouble. On the other hand, it may just be more pets for Gunnhild.

[Academia Nut]

Ghost Rider

Medium outsider (native, good, evil, fire)
Hit Dice: 15d8+90 (157hp)
Initiative: +2
Speed: 30ft
AC: 24, touch 15, flat footed 22 (+2 dexterity, +5 chain mail, +4 natural, +3 deflection)
BAB/Grapple: +15/+21
Space/Reach: 5ft/5ft
Attack: +3 cold iron chain +23 melee (2d4+9+1d6 hellfire 20/x2 +1d8 hellfire) or slam +19 melee (1d4+4+1d6 hellfire 20/x2 +1d8 hellfire)
Full Attack: +3 cold iron chain +23/+18/+13 (2d4+9+1d6 hellfire 20/x2 +1d8 hellfire) or slam +19 melee (1d4+4+1d6 hellfire 20/x2 +1d8 hellfire)
Special Attacks: Hellfire weapons; breath weapon; shared pain; chains that bind; songs of thunder; smite evil
Special Qualities: Fire, sonic and electricity immunity; vulnerability to cold; cold and acid resistance 10; regeneration 5 good; DR 10/good and silver; balance of good and evil; love quenches the flames; flickering shadow; rejuvenation
Saves: Fort +15, Ref +11, Will +11
Abilities: Strength 19, Dexterity 14, Constitution 23, Intelligence 13, Wisdom 14, Charisma 16
Skills: Ride +22, Perform (singing) +21, Diplomacy +23, Spot +20, Search +18, Handle Animal +21, Intimidate +23, Survival +20 (+22 when following tracks), Bluff +21
Feats: Exotic Weapon Proficiency (chain) [*B], Mounted Combat, Ride By Attack, Trample, Weapon Focus (chain), Weapon Expertise, Improved Disarm
Organization: Solitary (plus mount) or pair (plus mounts) or posse (3-8 plus mounts) or Wild Hunt (20-300 plus mounts)
Challenge Rating: Hard
Alignment: Always good, usually lawful
Advancement: 16-25 HD (Medium) or by class

Ghost riders are cursed horsemen who transgressed against a good greater deity they thought was evil and were punished for it to wear forms of wickedness while hunting down evil for the rest of eternity. Tortured individuals, every moment is agony as their forms burn and lightning lashes their backs, but they are compelled not just by the curse to perform good deeds, for their salvation lies in others. Smiles and thanks soothe their pain, and true love will actually suppress the curse completely, for the lifetime of those that love them at least.

Due to their abilities, ghost riders are fearsome demon killers, a task they take to with relish as the existence of non-evil demons is almost completely unheard of. They will occasionally even join in on Blood War battles, disrupting entire battle formations and destroying hundreds of fiends as they crash into their battle lines. Their ability to wield good aligned hellfire is also a rather major concern for the devils as it cuts through their defences and leaves horrific wounds.

Combat

A ghost rider’s natural weapons and any weapon it wields are considered good and evil aligned for the purposes of overcoming damage reduction or regeneration.

Hellfire Weapons: Any weapon wielded by a ghost rider, including natural attacks, is wreathed in hellfire. Treat this effect as a flaming burst weapon, only half the fire damage is hellfire that ignores any sort of resistance or immunity to fire. Grappling with a ghost rider automatically causes 1d6 fire damage, half of which is hellfire.
Breathe Weapon: Three times per day a ghost rider can exhale a stream of hellfire that deals 5d8 damage. Half of this damage is fire, while half is hellfire that ignore any sort of resistance of immunity to fire
Shared Pain: Whenever a ghost rider deals damage to another creature, it takes half that amount as non-lethal damage. Conversely, whenever a ghost rider is dealt damage half that amount is dealt as non-lethal damage to the one that inflicted it
Chains that Bind: Ghost riders are wrapped in chains that represent their servitude for their transgressions. They confer an armour bonus equivalent to chain mail. They also serve as fearful weapons. Treat the chain as a +3 cold iron spiked chain that deals bludgeoning damage instead of piercing damage and that cannot be dropped on an unsuccessful trip attempt. However, the chain can also be used to make ranged grapple checks and confers a +2 bonus to all grapple checks.
Songs of Thunder: When mounted and either at a full gallop or charging, as part of the action the ghost rider may let out a mournful cry. All evil creatures that hear the song must make a Will saving throw with the DC equal to the ghost rider’s Perform (sing) check or become panicked for 2d6 rounds and shaken until the end of the encounter with the ghost rider. If unable to flee, any creature so affected will be paralyzed with fear if confronted while still panicked. Any creature that successfully saves is immune to any ghost rider’s song for the next 24 hours. This is a mind affecting, sonic effect.
Smite Evil: A ghost rider can smite evil as a paladin of a level equal to its HD. Typical ghost riders can smite evil 4/day and add +3 to attack and +15 to damage.
Regeneration: A ghost rider takes normal damage only from good aligned weapons. Their own weapons also have an evil component so they cannot harm each other.
Balance of Good and Evil: Ghost riders are creatures of good, but they were damned for rash action and they have the fires of hell wreathing and strengthening their bodies. Thus they detect as evil and good aligned weapons are required to get through their damage reduction and regeneration, but any spells or abilities that deal damage or status effects based on alignment use their true alignment. Thus an unholy blight spell would hurt them, and while a holy sword would get through their damage reduction and deal real damage, it would not deal extra damage for striking an evil creature.
Love Quenches the Flames: The ghost riders were originally damned for attacking the mate of a goddess thinking him evil, thus the only cure for their condition is for others to not be so blind. If any creature of any alignment truly and honestly loves a ghost rider for who and what they are, then they will revert to a mortal form. Remove all special abilities and attacks except for smite evil, rejuvenation, and love quenches the flames for as long as at least one sentient being loves the ghost rider for whom they are. If killed while in this form they immediately rejuvenate (see below).
Flickering Shadow: Ghost riders are wreathed in flame and shadow that flickers about and makes it difficult to land a telling blow on them. Treat as a deflection bonus equal to their charisma modifier.
Rejuvenation: Like actual undead ghosts, ghost riders are tied to the mortal realms by the deity level strength of their curse and thus if killed they will return in 1d4 days without fail, unless an over deity steps in to undo the curse. Any ghost rider that has just rejuvenated has the love quenches the flames ability suppressed for a year and a day. If killed while in mortal form due to the love quenches the flames ability, they return on the round following their deaths.

---

There we go, the first draft of the D&D version of my ghost riders. Still need to do the mounts, but they'll be based off a combination of nightmares, the celestial template, and the paladin's mount so there is less to think up there. Comments from the other D&D players?

[MichaelAwesome]

I’m surprised you didn’t have a scene where Gunnhild is joyfully reunited with her father, interrupting her parent’s make-out cession.

Against a well-prepared spellcaster, are there any spells that could be used to delay a ghost rider’s rejuvenation? Like by a few weeks/months/years? (something other than Wish or Miracle, that is); It'd be entertaining to watch some resourceful villain constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for the inevitable return of the ghost rider that he knows is after him, trapped in a morbid game of cat and mouse.

Love Quenches the Flames: The ghost riders were originally damned for attacking the mate of a goddess thinking him evil, thus the only cure for their condition is for others to not be so blind. If any creature of any alignment truly and honestly loves a ghost rider for who and what they are, then they will revert to a mortal form.

For long-term consequences, when a ghost rider is in its “Love Quenches the Flames” form, can they sire offspring with a mortal woman? Being born out of love and acceptance, such half-outsider children would probably have angelic/celestial qualities marred by the lingering taint of damnation, as Skuld and Lars wouldn’t want any innocent children to suffer for the mistakes of their parents. Welcomed in neither Heaven nor Hell, the descendants of a ghost rider could seek sanctuary in Skuld’s divine domain or build a home for themselves on the Plane of Shadow or the Elemental Plane of Fire. A modified half-celestial or half-fire elemental template might work.

[Academia Nut]

I just remembered something. While there are many, many scenes in this story that could be turned into neat pictures, especially in this last update, I think we all know what must be drawn for the sake of future generations.

We must get a picture of Think the System Bug in a pimp hat.

[Jaeger]

Sure. How does Think look different from other System Bugs?

Great job with detailing the ghost riders in 3e stat form. My only nitpick is that they could use some sort of weakness or vulnerability that their opponents can exploit, otherwise they’ll be no more bad guys for heroes to fight within a few years.

**
After reading Darth Fanboy’s spin-off fic, maybe Rask and Lars could modifying “Create Food and Water” to create a new spell, “Boobs of Deliciousness,” where a woman’s mammaries are temporarily transmuted to produce a wide variety of beverages (or soup broths) selected by the caster, and for 24 hours afterwards the affected woman gets a +4 competence bonus on Charisma checks and Charisma-based skill check as they relate to dealing with anyone who had fed from her breasts while the spell was in effect, similar to how Vita the Assassin was enthralled by her wet-nurse. Most spells get named after its creator or the divine patron of its creator, so it might be called “Skuld’s Boobs of Deliciousness,” much to her embarrassment.

Elminster: “BEST SPELL EVER!!!”
((Mystra smacked Elminster upside the head))

[Firethorn]

For long-term consequences, when a ghost rider is in its “Love Quenches the Flames” form, can they sire offspring with a mortal woman?

My scary(good) was thinking about anybody who dares screw with a ghostrider in mortal form. Kill him and suddenly you have a skeleton who's stuck unable to have intimate relations with his love(assuming said love is still living) for a year and a day. Unkillable. Tormented. Pissed off.

I'd imagine the consequences would become tales of legend. Nations lost, as a skeletal knight tears through whole armies and kingdoms in revenge.

I'd also tend to believe that a good part of the unit would be in ghost rider form during any given time, and in the interests of their companions, very willing to join in in any retribution.

In any case - even though they're returned to human form when under the effects of love, they're STILL a group of experienced knights and such. I'm willing to bet that any willing to attack the ghost rider's loved ones will have to get through the rider first unless they're lucky enough to attack while he's away, or have enough to bypass him. Because when they do manage to kill him, well, suddenly you've gone from having a human knight/ranger/paladin/cleric beating on you to having a ghost knight beating on you.

Then again, I figure that fits in with the retribution part - somebody willing to kill a ghost rider's loved ones deserves to get their assess kicked to hell.

[Academia Nut]

Sure. How does Think look different from other System Bugs?

Not much different really. Perhaps a little less cute and stupid looking.

Great job with detailing the ghost riders in 3e stat form. My only nitpick is that they could use some sort of weakness or vulnerability that their opponents can exploit, otherwise they’ll be no more bad guys for heroes to fight within a few years.

They're not immune to effects that don't kill them but still imprison or otherwise take them down, so turning them to stone, capturing them and putting them in a very sturdy box, or the imprison spell or a myriad of other ways. And technically their tracking abilities are only mortal so teleportation magic can foul their ability to hunt a bad guy's ass down. Still, definitely not the sort of guys you want to tangle with. I suppose you could also capture their loves and hold them as hostages to ensure "good" behaviour but that has the opportunity of blowing up spectacularly.

Also, the next chapter will be... special. You'll all see why.

[Aranfan]

While Lars is fun, I really want to see what's going on with the Praxis.

[Skyfox120]

I can't help but wonder how ELminster (And perhaps the Simbul) are going to react once hte ToT ends and they find out how Nesme has been transformed...

Keeping in mind Elminster has semi-cannonaly traveled to a 20th century earth, to meet with wizards of other worlds (And Raid Ed's fridge ) so unlike most wizards of teh Forgotten realms he has some idea of the 20th century and how it came about.

[Academia Nut]

Yeah, I know what you mean, I've kind of managed to make a lot of little things I want to follow up on, but I only have so much creative energy at the moment. I'm probably going to end up following the Forgotten Realms thread for a little while until I can end at a point where I'm happy with what is happening. The next chapter will hopefully improve on things a little though.

[Garlak]

Hmmm... You wrote in a scene of Lars presenting Skuld with a harem..

...

*insert insane/maniacal laughter here*

[rodon]

I wonder just what will eventually happen to their group of Erinyes. Have a bit of Skuld and Lars rub off onto them. The magic take Lars and Skulds joke a bit far?

Skuld looked around for a moment before tapping a crude looking table. "Their not here right now, you don't need to continue to hide like this."

The lone cup on the table sprouted a pair of legs and tried to run off to find a new hiding place.

Skuld watched her husband's form scuttle off for a moment before going back to her tent. Farongi and the others continued to look at the fishnet stocking that Skuld had handed to her in shock.

--------------

[Just were is that mark Lars accidently put on the Erinyes]

Falagoro continued to try and use the new 'steel wool' to remove the mark the magic had placed upon her butt. She could almost swear that it was twice its starting size. The mark seemed to take some perverse joy in her failed attempts to remove it.

[Academia Nut]

Okay, I hope I didn't step over a boundary here Crazy9000, the name you gave me was just convenient to use. This one is a little experimental. Also, today's music is Fighter

---

Chapter Fifty-three: A day beyond the open door

Johan had led an interesting life up to this day. At age twelve he had been noticed as having some degree of sorcerous talent and had been recruited by a local mage as an apprentice, only for an orcish tribe to raid his village before he could do anything more than learn a few simple cantrips and thrust him into a long, brutal struggle to survive.

First it had been the orcs, claiming him as a slave for his ability to read the magical writings but never allowed to develop his abilities, instead forced to become a smith for them and improve their implements of war, bending his slight and untrained talents towards the enhancement of what he built for them. It had been a harsh few early years that had turned him to stone, and more than one fellow slave or rival orc who had tried to knife him in the back had taken a hammer blow to the head for the trouble.

Then the orogs had arrived from their holes in the ground, smashing the tribe that held Johan captive and continuing his enslavement. Deep in the darkness Johan had continued to ply his growing skills with metals and pitiful but still present arcane talents, while learning new ways of surviving without the light of the sun.

By the time the drow hit he was practically used to being captured and traded about. While he would have traded anything for his freedom and to see his long forgotten friends and family again, he did have to admit that years of servitude had made him practically inured to the hardships he experienced. While the drow liked to sneer at his creations being crude and inelegant, they still had him make weapons for their “slaves”, even if he had a sneaking suspicion that several actual drow warriors used them.

At some point in the inscrutable politics of the drow city called Menzoberranzan his owners had needed to rapidly generate a large amount of liquid cash and so they had him and a number of other slaves auctioned off once more.

At that point Johan had come under the ownership of Kirilae, the quiet fourth daughter of an extremely minor house in the city. She had, at one point, been considered for some arcane training but did not pursue it very far before she decided that her true passion lay with learning the ways of the sword. As a skilled swordsmith, Johan had become her personal supplier and repairman while also bringing in a small amount from his work.

At first he had thought her just another spoiled, arrogant bitch of a drow, until the day he had discovered her coming out of a tiny door Johan did not know existed, and neither had it seemed did any other members of the house. Kirilae had held him at sword point until he had feigned ignorance of knowing anything at all, at which point she had surprisingly let him live.

From then on Johan had watched Kirilae carefully, and noticed how she seemed to ignore the cutthroat politics of her family, how she seemed to prefer to distance herself from the blood and killing of the drow world, how she never treated him like a slave unless her family was around, and Johan began to wonder. For two years he observed quietly while going about his business.

Finally the day of decisions arrived when one of Kirilae’s older sisters nearly stumbled upon the secret door, only to die in an “unfortunate accident” involving a trip out a nearby window, crashing to ground two floors below where she broke her neck. Only two people saw the truth, Kirilae who had been exiting her hidden place, and Johan, who had shoved the sister out the window just as she discovered Kirilae’s secret.

When the questioning had come up, Kirilae said that her sister had tripped on a recently formed crack in the floor, recently because she had plunged her sword into the stone and created it after the fact, and that Johan had tried to do his duty as a slave and save the sister of his master. No one believed this story at face value, but in the way of the drow, no one cared either. They had no reason not to believe her version of events, even if everyone else had their own theories.

A week later Kirilae had shown Johan what lay beyond the door. It was a small room, clearly carved out by magic decades ago. In it was a collection of works that probably would have had Kirilae sacrificed on some bloodstained altar for possessing. They were magical treatises written by the surface elves. Kirilae had run across mention of some of their magic years ago and it had become an obsession for her to discover the strange blend of magic and swordplay called blade singing that some of them used.

There were many styles of combining the arcane with martial disciplines, and Kirilae had been cobbling them together with what knowledge she could scrape together on the styles used by the surface elves. It was all heretical in the extreme, but Kirilae had been obsessed with uncovering the mechanics of how it was done since her early days training in wizardry. If her fellow drow would not let her study what she wanted because of what Lolth commanded, then to the Hells with Lolth.

Then, two months after that, while out shopping for supplies, Johan had discovered a sale for weapons being produced in the Roreril compound. The quality of the blades was unsurpassed by anything without magic; the steel carefully tempered and folded with a delicate pattern of water ripples on the surface that belied the incredible strength such things actually spoke of. And yet there were literally dozens of these blades going for half what a lesser weapon might sell for.

Johan immediately purchased a weapon he knew would be perfect for Kirilae to practice with or perhaps even to have enchanted one day. The blade was wicked sharp and to Johan’s knowing eye it could easily clash with an adamantine weapon and have a good chance of coming out intact. The steel used techniques Johan did not even know existed in its construction.

Three months later House Roreril and House Oblodra obliterated House Baenre and the city was thrown into chaos as magic began to run amok and the political order tried to sort itself out in the typical drow fashion. Rumours abounded and it seemed that some new goddess had arisen in the midst of the Roreril compound and she intended to leave Menzoberranzan.

Kirilae had come to him, all the worldly possessions she could fit travel with; including the sword Johan had bought her, and asked him simply, “Will you follow me?”

Johan simply picked up his hammer and ran out into the darkness of the city with her. He had been a slave for so long he had nearly forgotten what it meant to be free, so he still wasn’t entirely sure if he followed her to escape or simply because he was used to following her orders.

All those years of denigration and pain were worth it the moment he laid his eyes upon the goddess he and Kirilae now worshipped. So much power contained within such a kind body, for she and her consort seemed to love and respect all the creatures that followed them equally. From the noblest of drow down to the lowliest goblin, they truly cared about those that followed their lead.

Now, for the first time in a decade Johan sat under the sun, relishing the burn it caused to his pallid skin while he considered the drawings being distributed to the craftsmen in the camp. As one of the few human crafters Johan could see the potential that the other missed. The elves and dwarves had too many traditions to see past their own noses, while the goblins and orcs were too crude to get what they were looking at.

And for the first time Johan felt like he had been ripped off when he bought the sword for Kirilae. Looking at these drawings, he understood how House Roreril had been able to make so many high quality weapons. They must have been able to make steel nearly as strong as adamantium for coppers with this stuff. And the ‘rifles’ they had designs for… they didn’t have the machinery to make them yet, but they knew exactly what they needed to build to get there and they had several skilled mages using magic to assist them.

Johan considered what might have come of his life had he not been captured by the orcs such a very long time ago. He doubted he would be here today, even if he might have more arcane knowledge. But his new goddess had shown him another path to the arcane, another path the mirrored his darkened life. He could see how she could bend the shadows to her will, and he tried stretching his will in a similar way. He was sure he would have never have even seen this power had his life not taken the terrible turns it had.

He also grinned at the fact that he very much doubted that he would have ever had a beautiful drow woman’s head lying in his lap, napping in the heat of the sun despite the discomfort it caused her night adapted eyes. Although once again Skuld had come through and crafted hundreds of pairs of ‘sunglasses’ for all of those with eyes that were sensitive to the blazing sun above. The way Kirilae’s face was framed by her glasses and her hair, the white tinged with streaks of red like a cloud painted at sunset made Johan grin.

He idly traced a line across her face, feeling the warmth and softness of her dark skin upon his worn, callused fingers, split and burned countless times working the forges. To his amazement though, he discovered a tiny shadow tugged along with his finger when he was at his most blissful.

The shock caused the pool of blackness to snap back into position, making Johan question whether or not he had actually seen it, but he was sure. Moving some of the tools around on the table he had set up to review the schematics he had been given, he created a little pool of darkness to experiment with.

Placing a finger in it, he tried to recapture his thoughts when he had moved the shadows. He remembered feeling so utterly at peace with the world and how much he loved his unlikely companion. At first nothing happened, until he had a philosophical burst of insight. Shadows were delicate, ephemeral things. If he wished to coax them, he would have to show equal subtlety. The shadows were a thing of Skuld.

Johan remembered how much he loved Skuld for getting him and Kirilae out of the slow, grinding death of Menzoberranzan. He remembered how much he loved finding that dark hole where Kirilae practiced her forbidden arts. He realized just how much he loved the shadows and what they had given him, and let little flickers of that love dance out upon his finger tips.

He brought his finger out of the pool of shadow he had created with his tools and he created a tiny smudge of inky blackness where no darkness should be able to manifest.

Controlling his emotions, Johan carefully fed his appreciation back through his fingers, letting out tiny drips of emotion so as to not frighten the carefully constructed image. He loved the shadows, and they loved him back for his appreciation of them.

Pulling his finger up, he drew a line of shade in the air, a strange construct of two dimensions in three. Eventually the shadows fizzled away in the brilliance of the midday sun during Flamerule, but light and dark had to give way to each other in turn. Johan did not hate the light for banishing the dark any more than he hated the dark for concealing the light.

Placing his hand back into his little starter pool, Johan pulled out an enormous globe of darkness and whispered to it with his mind, asking it to show him what it could do. Ever so slowly the darkness began to flow down his arm like rivulets of blackest ink, forming into a solid layer of night between him and the world. Some of it remained about his hand, while the rest enveloped his body like solid armour. He moved the shield of shade to the table and was amazed when it was physically moved by the touch of shadow.

Crying out with giddy joy, at this achievement, Johan woke Kirilae with his exuberance. Looking up at him with her red eyes glowing behind her glasses like sultry coals, she asked, “What is it dear?”

Johan’s heart nearly stopped when he realized that she had just called him ‘dear’ so freely and casually. Grinning, he held up the shield about his hand and gestured to the flickering darkness about him and said, “I think I just figured out how to touch Lady Skuld’s Shadow Weave.”

Kirilae blinked at that pronouncement before she grinned and said, “I knew you were clever, for a human, but I never expected this.”

Johan’s smile beamed as he stared down into Kirilae’s face and he said, “I have you to thank. It was my staring at your face and realizing just how much I loved you while I was at peace that led me to this discovery. The shadows respond to subtle emotional cues, and if you show them peace and appreciation, they will flow.”

Something indistinct moved across Kirilae’s face for a moment before she smiled again and said, “That’s fantastic Johan!”

Somehow though Johan didn’t feel that Kirilae entirely meant it.

She then settled her head back into his lap and shut her eyes, murmuring, “Wake me when the sun has set.”

Stroking a hand through her hair, Johan said, “Of course.”

Later than night, even though Johan was feeling exhausted from staying awake all day and picking up a nasty burn, he followed Kirilae into a clearing just outside the camp. Strangely she was wearing the clothing she had worn during the escape from Menzoberranzan, an ornate noble’s outfit she had put on to help deflect attention from the paranoid members of the city as they made their way to the Roreril compound. She also had the sword Johan had bought for her, the one made by Skuld before he knew the name of their goddess. The once fancy clothing only retained a fraction of their finery after the escape from Lolth, and she had not worn them since arriving on the surface.

Backing him up next to a tree, she kissed him on the cheek and with a strange smile said, “Please don’t interfere, I have to do this for myself.”

Frowning at the odd statement, Johan watched as Kirilae stepped out into the clearing and held her sword high.

“Spiders who dwell in shadow, hear my call. The Spider Queen has long had claim to my soul by the simple fact of my birth, but she is not my goddess, and she is not your queen. So come, strip away the finery made in her name, strip away the chains on my soul so that I might worship she who commands the shadows more fully, so that I might love without restraint. I am drow! Fight me!” Kirilae cried out to the open air.

For a long moment there was silence, dead and calm, only the sound of breathing audible. But then a patch of darkness seemed to grow darker and a giant shape loomed out of the gloom. It was one of the shadow spiders that had briefly shown up the day before to return an artefact to Skuld. And along with it came a pair of sword spiders riding on its back.

Hopping down, the blade legged arachnids circled carefully about Kirilae. Johan wanted to rush out and help, but her words compelled him to stay. For the briefest of moments she glanced back at him and smiled. His love for her had led him to his discovery. Perhaps her love for him would lead her to her own discovery.

If he could lead her to what she had sought for so long then it would be worth it to stand here and watch.

The sword spiders reached out tentatively and their legs were swatted aside by a lazy parry. Despite flanking her, neither spider could land a blow on Kirilae as she blocked and dodged their strikes with equal skill and grace. Johan watched in awe as the combat sped up, Kirilae effortlessly keeping up with the tempo as four legs on each spider flashed out at her and she danced about them while the enormous shadow spider watched on in silence. The crash of blade upon blade transformed into a symphony, and Johan thought he could hear a soft feminine voice accompanying the truly martial music.

Johan had no idea how smart these creatures were supposed to be, but these were clearly exceptional examples.

Then Kirilae took a glancing strike from one of the blades. Not enough to draw blood, but it did cut her clothing. This only seemed to inspire her more, as she began to practically blur with motion as she engaged the spiders. It took a moment for Johan to realize that she had formed a spell with her motions, with her intricate blade dance.

She had figured out the blade art she had sought for so many decades!

And yet it was not enough, for the spiders continued to strike her, seemingly nicking her a dozen times with every frantic heartbeat. Her clothing was utterly shredded and it began to litter the ground about the battlefield.

Then, without warning, the dance came to an end, Kirilae standing naked, her sword held at a high guard above her head, every beautiful curve of her taut body on display, her bare breasts heaving up and down with every deep breath she took to refill her lungs after her exertion. A fine layer of sweat shone in the starlight, making her body glisten like Skuld’s wondrous hair. She stood before the shadow spider, staring up into its cluster of beady black eyes proudly.

The back legs of spider began to work, drawing forth ropes of blackness from its spinnerets that it then began to weave into something that it threw over Kirilae. Strands of oily shadow wrapped about the elf’s lithe body, cloaking in shadow before Johan’s very eyes. It was the reward for her beautiful sword dance in the eyes of the strange creature.

The sword spiders leapt back on top of the larger shadow spider and followed it back into the Plane of Shadow.

Rushing over to Kirilae, Johan embraced her tightly while tears of joy streamed down his face. “That was incredible!” He cried out ecstatically.

Exhaling, Kirilae said, “I honestly had no idea if they could be reasoned with like that, but I saw what happened yesterday and I knew that only from those spiders would I find salvation from the Spider Queen. They are not her subjects, and never will be. If they owe any fealty to a being beyond that creature that leads them, it is to the Goddess of Shade.”

She plucked at the shadow silk that now draped her body and smiled. “For a long time I have wondered if perhaps Eilistraee was trying to reach me through my hidden research, but even if she was, I pledge my soul to Skuld. We are creatures of shadow you and I, and I am glad it is this way.”

Kissing her, Johan said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Pulling him tight and demonstrating with her closeness just how thin the silk adorning her body was, Kirilae ask, “I am an elf and you are a human. I will outlive you and any children we might have, barring violence. I doubt I will truly ever comprehend all those little human things that you have been getting so excited about recently. But would you swear to love me for the rest of our lives before the goddess?”

“Of course,” Johan replied, tears in his eyes. Remembering the words of the gods, Johan said, “I would swear before the goddess to be true and faithful to you for the rest of my life, and beyond. I would seek you out in the afterlife, would wait for our souls to reunite so that we might remain together until the stars lay down their burdens and we are no more.”

Crying now herself, Kirilae said, “I too would swear before the goddess to be true and faithful to you for the rest of my life, and beyond. I would seek you out in the afterlife, would wait for our souls to reunite so that we might remain together until the stars lay down their burdens and we are no more. I cannot see any man ever replacing you despite your short life. You burn so brightly, if briefly.”

“The brighter the light, the deeper the shadows,” Johan retorted before their lips met once more.

---

Ahem, and thus ends the 'day in the life' chapter for the little guys, the ones not possessing the earth shattering magic or world changing knowledge. It is a touch experimental because I use this to open up the doors to others. I will retain control over the major plots of the Open Door, but if you ever want to write a story within the massive universe I have created about secondary characters, just send me a PM and we can start talking. This also means that if you want to start seeing more about what is going on in some places, you can get more information if someone volunteers to write a 'below decks' episode or if you volunteer and I give you future plot developments. Right now some of the plot threads open to such things would be:

1) Life for the colonial refugees as they wait for their government or the Stiletto to do something. Essentially what the common folk see.
2) Life on newChaos Earth
3) The changing landscape of the Forgotten Realms, especially for those in Skuld and Lars' camp and Nesme

I am of course open to suggestion, and while willing to discuss things with you, I reserve the right to nix any idea I don't feel fits. I will also of course offer editting services as this is essentially a joint project and it behooves me to make sure things are done right.

Basically, this thing has grown beyond all my initial expectations. I'm getting fanart for crying out loud! So, for those of you with budding ideas, please send me a PM and we can start talking.

[holyknight]

Bravo....just Bravo......

Sometimes the truly epic doesn't comes from the great scene, but from the simple details of a small one, what allows us to truly grasp the scale of what has come to be, and it will come to, on the future.......