StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Eh, we don't have a confirmation of death, the Carnivora might have made his save, and only suffered however many d6 of damage instead.

Or he might have his own clone on standby for that matter, or some other means of coming back. Be a bit of a bitch if he learned enough from suffering the End of All Flesh to start implementing his own High magic though.

Handren raised his hand and the column slowed to a halt. Before them stretched a bridge that crossed the Serpent River. Each side was secured by a mighty gatehouse and flanked by a pair of towers. For centuries the Bastion Bridge had marked the edge of Vanyard's lands and been a bulwark against invaders. No one had ever challenged it, but there were easier targets in other lands and Vanyard's own wars were against its northern neighbor, not its southern one.

"No sign of the elf," said Darmira. Warm air gushed out of her mouth in a thin fog. Winter was closing it's grip on the land. The snow was still light on the ground, only a few inches, but the clouds overhead indicated that could change quickly. "We should wait?"

The Bastion Bridge had supplies and the Marshall of the Bastion had considerable holdings and broad authority to requisition more. There was no question of being able to acquire food and firewood from him. "Agreed," said Handren. "I'm not interested in suicide. I'm also not interested in sitting on my ass in the cold indefinitely."

Marcosa coughed. "I may be of some assistance in this matter highness."

"Spit it out," said Darmira.

"I can reach Nalifan with a message spell, telling him we have reached the Bastion Bridge and have gone as far as you intend without him."

"Do so," said Handren. The mage bowed and nudged his horse away from the column. Handren turned back to Darmira. "How long do you think we'll have to wait?"

"Not long," said the princess. "Unless he's in the middle of something. The elf acts swiftly when he needs to."

"So I guess we're about to find out how important we are in his scheme of things."

"You sound skeptical."

"I've seen only the surface, not his soul. Slick, smooth, and false. He hides his true intentions. There are plans within plans whirling around in that skull of his. His deviousness, that is real. And his willingness to kill. For such a man, no, that's not right. He is not a man. If it suits his plan, we will die here."

"You really think so?"

"I know so," said Handren. "You saw him kill at the feast. He was willing to drive that dispute into a fight he knew he would win and he killed without a hint of regret. I watched his face when he used his blade. He enjoyed it. Our safety is secured by our being far more useful alive than dead. I can think of no way in which this is not that true and that is my only reason for trusting him."

"Not the only reason," said Darmira. "I do not know what the outcome will be with his help, but we both know what it will be without it. We have no choice but hope that he is enough."

Handren nodded wordlessly. There was a crash like distant thunder and Nalifan appeared, mounted astride a coal black steed that dwarfed a destrier. Red eyes blazed in the horse's skull, showing limitless malice. Fangs peered from beneath it's lips along with tusks a boar would envy. Steam rose from around it's flaming hooves as snow melted and boiled into steam. The prince and princess, both of royal blood, backed away fearfully from the monster.

Nalifan patted the monstrous steed on the neck. A jet of flame and a puff of hot smoke shot from the nightmare's nostrils. "Don't worry about her. She's a vicious, demonic killer that would bite your heart out and eat in a second, but she's thoroughly bound. Aren't you?" The nightmare snorted again.

"You've made better time than I expected," said the drow. "That's good. Everything go right in my absence?"

"Yes," said Darmira. "Did you accomplish whatever nefarious schemes you were up to?"

"Oh yes," said Nalifan. "I exceeded my own expectations actually. There's a large Khaduli encampment, one of their tribes if I'm not mistaken, just a few days from here. Shall we go?"

What! What! Thats All?!?! That can't be ALL.

I want MORE!

Seriously though this is great, reminds me of all the good times being arch-magi - but my gaming group all moved away so we can't play anymore.

(But I was a human wizard/archmage/human-paragon specializing in enchantment good times!)

consequences wrote:Eh, we don't have a confirmation of death, the Carnivora might have made his save, and only suffered however many d6 of damage instead.

A caster making his fortitude spell against an epic necromancy spell, cast by an epic level arch-necromancer who IRRC ImpOverlord once wrote was designed as a kind of magical assassin specialised on having as much Spell Penetration and the highest DCs possible? Extremely unlikely. He'd probably have to roll a natural 20.

consequences wrote: Or he might have his own clone on standby for that matter, or some other means of coming back.

Quite possible. Though considering the style of IO's other stories, I wouldn't bet on it either, since he seems to be quite willing to defy the "recurring villain" cliche and more than one Big Bad has simply gone down due to Nalifan & Co's superior firepower, rather than having to be defeated by plot device.

Incidentally, that's actually something you hardly see anywhere in fantasy. Typically the heroes need to destroy all the horcruxes/find the master sword/retrieve the holy grail of monsterslaying guarded by the dragon of immortality, etc, etc, first. Personally I find Overlord's more direct style extremely refreshing, as well as realistic. Please don't stop killing your villains in those wonderfully anticlimatic, yet at the same time exciting and amusing ways! Who needs a Deus Ex Machina when you have the magical equivalent of heavy artillery and cruise missiles?

Said Caster may be using the souls he's eaten as ablative armor of some sort, have a proxy he can shunt spell effects onto, or some other dick move I hadn't considered. Regardless, without an explicit 'and he died', I'm not counting him out, even temporarily.

Usually, Nal takes specific steps to prevent people from coming back(the one time we know he didn't resulted in a Worm that Walks coming after him in his first published story). These may not be possible through a scrying linkage.

Nalifan wasn't responsible for the death of the Witch King of Vaasa and his remnants arising as a Worm That Walks in "Since When Did Trouble Knock?". He just got swept up in the problem when the Worm's Vaasan enemies came to Nalifan for help.

Eh. fair enough. It was still an object lesson in why Soul Binds are a good long-term investment.

consequences wrote:Eh. fair enough. It was still an object lesson in why Soul Binds are a good long-term investment.

They won't stop Worms That Walk from forming since they don't involve the soul. That's the reason for the elaborate time travel plot in "Face of My Enemy." If cloning or resurrection could have worked, the Worm would have done that rather than eradicate it's own existence.

Fine, Soul Binds plus disintegrate or something equally excessively thorough. Darnit, I miss the days when authors didn't bother to pay attention to details and continuity.

I don't suppose you've got the links to the other Nalifan stories? This one's really good, and I'd rather like to read the others.

Master_Baerne wrote:I don't suppose you've got the links to the other Nalifan stories? This one's really good, and I'd rather like to read the others.

Titles, in order, are on the first page where I answer the levels question. The search function will do the rest.

Thanks!

Lania climbed the stairs slowly, the laughter of the dining hall rising following her. She ate near the kitchen with the servants, not the great lords and their retainers and functionaries. Attention was something she avoided, not that it did her too much good. The servants knew who she was, the rumor mill of the palace being little different from that of a brothel or a slum with the exception of the size. She was his and they all knew it and Prince Sargard's enmity was no secret.

So she ate better than they did and they shunned her, having no desire to be caught between a foreigner's whore and a prince's wrath, and she endured in silence. Despite her fears no one had dogged her foot steps, no threatening notes had appeared, and there were no cruel torments whispered to her from a stranger's lips. There were advantages to just being a whore. Only pimps thought that whores were worth to effort to terrorize. She wished that Nalifan was back. The elf wizard was terrifying in his own way, too alien and powerful to fit into her world, but he also reassured her. Perhaps it was because he was so honest and ruthless. He would protect what was his and that included her. Mother, had she made the right decision when she had cast her lot in with his?

She hadn't really known what she was getting into, but his offer had struck a cord with her. It hadn't been greed that had driven her to take it, but fear. Lania was almost closer to thirty than twenty and while life in a brothel was easier than that on the street, she had been spent years on those streets and she had seen how those years withered those that survived them. She had been lucky enough to get off them, but they had marked her soul as they had marked the bodies of others. One day, perhaps soon, her beauty would begin to fade and then one day, it would be gone. The world was not kind to old whores. She had clutched at Nalifan's offer to get her out of this life like a drowning woman.

As she walked down the corridor she reached into a pocket of her dress and pulled out the key to the door. She inserted it to the lock and tried to turn it. The key jiggled slightly, but the lock didn't turn. It was stuck. Behind her she heard the sound of a door opening. She half-turned and saw two men wearing dark brown wool tunics and hoods rush at her.

A gloved fist struck her in the belly and knocked the wind out of her. Lania folded over gasping, trying to suck in enough air to scream. A gloved hand closed over her mouth and she was dragged back into the room from which she had come.

They gagged her and tied her to a chair. One got up and exited the room and the other sat down and waited. Time crawled. Eventually, she heard the sounds of many people approaching the door and the sounds of masculine speech and laughter. The door opened.

Crown Prince Sargard walked in, accompanied by a half dozen nobles both great and lesser. In age they ranged from their late teens to late twenties. Most of them were at least half drunk. A young blond boy giggled when he saw her. Sargard smiled cruelly as he stepped into the room.

Sargard pulled off her gag. "Please," she begged, tears in her eyes, "I'm no one. I've done nothing." A backhand slap across the jaw cut her off.

"Women should only use their mouths for one thing in the presence of men," Sargard drawled. His cronies laughed. "Isn't that right?" he said, addressing his friends. There were more laughs and nods of agreement.

"Listen, whore," said Sargard. "That elf needs to pay and he needs to be put in his place. Since he's not here and his little witch has gone into hiding, that leaves you." He traced the line of her jaw. "Now, if you're a good little whore I might, just might, not hurt you too bad. After all, you're just his whore. I've been known to be downright generous when I've been pleasured properly." One of the nobles snickered. "Understand?"

She nodded, not daring to speak. "Good," said Sargard, as he undid his belt. "It's Valco's first time with a woman, so you had better make it good for him." One of the hooded servants cut her free from the chair. "But it's not his turn," continued Sargard. "I am the prince, after all."

A hand on her shoulder forced her to her knees. "Now," said Sargard, "why don't you start by putting your mouth to work like a good little whore?"

Why do I get the impression that somehow the prince will die by Nal's hands?

EDIT: Oh and please post more, this cliffhanger is killing me.

Nalifan can't kill him. The King forbade him.

However, there are ways to handle this that do not involve killing, maiming, or doing physical harm to the Prince. The most blatant revenge (thus the one Nal won't do), is to have all of the Prince's little friends killed for touching her. Nothing says he can't kill them.

But no, killing is far too easy. Nalifan, when he finds out, will make them understand just how far they fucked up, and by the time he's done with them they are going to -wish- he'd simply killed them and gotten it over with.

My trick, were I a necromantic Archmage, is to have a little spell set up on her that will give any rapists a nasty little pox that makes their wang fall off.

I think that to me, the most easily recognizable facet of Nalifan's personality is his viciousness. He's demonstrated earlier (particularly against the self-aggrandizing archmage Astinius) that he understands how to not just kill a person, but destroy him and leave him locked in misery for the rest of his life. Killing the prince would be pedestrian to Nalifan, I should think, and insufficient besides; what is really needed is an object lesson on the perils of fucking with the arch-necromancer.

Besides, it's not just important that the prince cannot be killed by Nal, but that the king not be put in a state where he'll sacrifice victory over the Khaduli just to see Nalifan dead. Thus, Nalifan's response will on some levels have to suit the crime.

Poor Poor Valco, boy you should choose your friends more carefully.

Just to comment I have been working my way through Nalifan's other adventures and have to say they are some of the best stories I have ever read. And that includes professional stuff - there is some roughness in the spelling and grammar but the strength of the writing overwhelms the little defects.

Keep up the great stories!

Trails of smoke rose over the horizon. "That was Quintos," said Darmira. "You were right."

Nalifan shrugged. The drow was wearing a fur lined jerkin and thick pants under his robe and cloak. "Of course I was right. The divinations were clear."

Handren lowered a telescope. "They have outriders. They've undoubtedly spotted us."

"Good," said Nalifan. "This will go better if they mass their forces for convenient extermination."

"This is a whole tribe," said Handren. "They outnumber us by at least ten to one."

"More like twenty to one," replied Nalifan. "Have the light cavalry hold back, guard the rear and the supplies. I'll be doing most of the work, but there will be enough left for your boys and girls to slake their appetites."

Darmira looked at the drow uneasily. "The Khaduli rarely receive a charge. They break away. Their horses aren't strong or fast, but they don't carry as much."

"I know," said Nalifan. "Sturdy step ponies. Rugged and easy to care for. They'll fade like mist rather than take the hammer of a charge. The story isn't unique to this world."

"So why do you think this will be different?"

"A very good question. Let me take a moment to give credit where credit is due. Observing that the enemy won't fight like how you want them to is better than at least three out of five human aristocrats. The answer is, of course, we force them to. When they're raiding your lands, they're far away from their herds and families and slaves. Their herds are their life. Women, children, and herds can't outrun your knights."

"They stand or their tribe dies," said Handren. "And then what?"

"We kill them all," said Nalifan. "Pass the word that a live witch or a witch's corpse in good condition is worth gold."

"Kill them all?" asked Darmira?

"Well, maybe not the slaves," said Nalifan. "I suppose a few of them could be useful."

"Children?"

"Why on earth would we spare them? Foods going to be in short enough supply as it is. If in doubt, kill everything."

Over the next hour a line of mounted warriors assembled in the snow. Behind them were the broken walls of what had once been a prosperous town. Now it was home to gutted buildings and the bones of the dead. Wood had been plundered from the ruins for fires and yurts had been assembled around the walls. Smoke rose from countless fires and behind the line of warriors were the women, children, and herds of the tribe.

"Sweet mother," murmured Handren. "There's at least ten thousand of them." The formation had begun to resemble a crescent with the horns aimed at the Vanyard.

"Don't worry boy," said Nalifan. "I have no intention of getting you killed. Just keep the men under control. No one moves forward until I give the word." The nightmare snorted more flames and stamped the snow impatiently. He started chanting under his breath.

The air churned in front of the drow and and then the wind picked up, pushing south. "What did you do?" asked Darmira.

"I've started killing them. Stay here. You'll get the word when the time is right." The hellsteed advanced through the snow, Nalifan softly chanting another spell. A soft silver-blue glow limed the drow and the nightmare.

"What is it?" asked Handren. "Marcosa?"

"He's conjured a cloud of something, but cloaked it in an invisibility spell," said the wizard. "They won't know what's killing them even when it hits their ranks."

"What about their witches?" asked Handren. "They'll see, won't they?"

"If they use the right spells," replied Marcosa.

Nalifan restrained the nightmare from taking to the air with a simple jerk of the reins. The vicious monster would stay here for the present. The Khaduli had to take the bait, after all. The left horn was advancing right into the invisible poison cloud. Just a few more moments and then the dying would begin. He removed his smoked lenses and scanned the horde. Flares of magic registered on his vision. Four witches in two different groups. He was far beyond the range of their sorcery, but they were not beyond the range of his.

The words to killing spells tumbled from his lips. A small skull of blue-white flame appeared in front of each hand and then streaked through the cold winter air at speeds far greater than any bow shot. Each one struck one of the witch cadres. Ghostly flames blasted from the impact point, not in clouds or a spheres, but in shearing arcs ten feet high that reduced men and horses to blackened sticks. The heated air seemed to howl like the damned and the fire flowed and twisted forming skull shapes within the clouds. Then they were gone, leaving behind a rising cloud of steam and a blackened and burned grown strewn with the bodies of the dead.

Men and horses began to collapse as the invisible cloud of poisonous vapors started rolling over Khaduli. The death toll mounted rapidly and men began to flee the invisible killer. Nalifan smiled as the left horn collapsed into chaos. "Come to me oh mighty ones," said the drow softly. "If you don't kill me I'll take you apart piece by piece." He raised his hand and made a come hither motion. "Shall we dance?"

The words to killing spells tumbled from his lips. A small skull of blue-white flame appeared in front of each hand and then streaked through the cold winter air at speeds far greater than any bow shot. Each one struck one of the witch cadres. Ghostly flames blasted from the impact point, not in clouds or a spheres, but in shearing arcs ten feet high that reduced men and horses to blackened sticks. The heated air seemed to howl like the damned and the fire flowed and twisted forming skull shapes within the clouds. Then they were gone, leaving behind a rising cloud of steam and a blackened and burned grown strewn with the bodies of the dead.

Oh I want that spell for my arch-mage !

Great update IO!

It's fireball modified with mastery of shaping.

Let me guess: The skulls shapes are ostensibly for psychological warfare, but really, Nalifan just included them because he thought it was funny.

Brain_Caster wrote:Let me guess: The skulls shapes are ostensibly for psychological warfare, but really, Nalifan just included them because he thought it was funny.

Not funny ... Artistic.
Magic is an Art, after all.

Classy, skulls are classy.

Mastery of Shaping plus maybe maximize?

Here I was hoping for some cool new 9th level necromancer spell to add to my spell list...and all I find is a spell combination I have used since I got mastery of shaping. (With a much cooler special effect than I use admittedly!)

Thanks!

For my non-cheerful thought of the day(note, do not click reveal if you are somehow still under the delusion that Nal's a fundamentally nice guy, and want to keep it that way:
Spoiler

For my non-cheerful thought of the day(note, do not click reveal if you are somehow still under the delusion that Nal's a fundamentally nice guy, and want to keep it that way:

Now why would I think that he is nice to his people, and rips someone a new one if you cross him.

I expect that you are right about the results for the Prince, I feel (a little) more sorry for the Prince's hangers on - the Prince (presumably) knows that Nal is a badass but thinks he (the Prince) is protected by Daddy. The rest of them should know that Nal is a badass but may think that the Prince protects them (he doesn't). They are in for a world of hurt from Nal, as an object lesson for the Prince...if the Prince survives the (presumably victorious) army and the nasty little war Magi's that Nal is training up.

I like it!