Bog's World

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Orodreth

The Year of the Dog (3155) The Flanne month of Readying, The day of Crocus (the third day of the Flanne Month. Noon.

Orodreth’s manse. Forgileill arrives with her modest retinue. Tud is encumbered by the rolled up carpet that his eternally strange Lyio is making him carry. Erlini is juggling satchels of glass vials obtained from Nym’s lab. They’d been all carefully lined up in rows on one table with a row of labels carefully laid out on another.

Orodreth’s Hadronna, Errosol, makes the party comfortable, they wait in an anteroom whilst the staff go to fetch their Lyio. A light luncheon is served. Those who know her can feel Forgileill’s temper building. Soft furnishings begin to brown. Erlini points this out to her sponsor before these things actually start to smoulder. Forgileill drinks and eats, albeit sparing. An hour has passed.

Concentrating to keep the efreet bound had initially demanded all of her concentration. Now, several hours in, the sandestine had ceased to constantly batter against her will. But it did still require a lot of her, she had to describe their destination to Erlini and let her manage the teleport spiral.

Orodreth strides into the room with a sweep of his wide black cape. Forgileill quickly sinks to her knees and bows her head, holding her obedience for only the merest moment before running into his embrace. “Uncle, where have you been?”
He clasps her close for a long moment and then holds her at arm’s length, tilting his head first one way and then the other, as if appraising her.
“Since when am I answerable to you, young lady?”
“Thirty forty.” She smiles. “the spring rains.” Her smile faded.
“Humpf.” He took one of her hands and turned away, striding along, towing her behind him. She glanced over her shoulder and waved her companions after her. They sprang up, gathering their belongings and impedimenta as the errant uncle swept his niece from view.
“I understand from Erroso’ that you are in a hurry to get to the lost tomb of Ankha Ratalla.”
“Yes, but…”
“I do hope you know what you are doing.”
“Yes, uncle, I…”
“If I were to learn that I had been instrumental in your demise, I should be inconsolable.”
“Of course uncle, however…”
“I’m assuming that you are relying on the efreet to guide your journey accurately?”
“Yes, she’s bound for as long as I can remain focussed.”
“You should release her as soon as you can.”
“I know, I..”
“If you do not then it will be extremely hard for you to contract a fire sandestine again.”
“Yes, I…”
“When you release her, she is likely to attack you .”
Forgileill gave up answering as her uncle dragged her at speed through the maze of corridors and down to where ever it was he was taking her.
“In fact, it is a certainty.”
She could hear that the others were struggling to keep up behind them.

She stole glances around as they went. She knew the stories, of debauched parties involving Orodreth, his friends and entities from the outer planes of existence. She fancied that she could see shapes in the gloom, glimpsed impressions of things that the drow part of her memories associated with recreational dungeons.

Curiously enough, as she was having those thoughts, the views became less distinct, doors were less ajar than before, they appeared to be moving ever faster, to wherever he was taking her.

At last they come to a large chamber, candles fluttered into life as they entered. Orodreth ushers them all into the centre of the room. The floor appears to be any number of magic circles and other patterns. Some of which are writhing as they reach the periphery of one’s vision. He stalks around the room, checking one of the circles, peering closely here, rubbing with the toe of his boot there. The candelabra lend a warm light to the large oval chamber. There are wards, sigils and scorch marks on the walls. Erlini and Tud look around , Erlini shakes her feet and wriggles her toes in her boots as crossing the circles is giving her pins and needles in her feet.

Forgileill sits in the lotus position on the floor and begins softly chanting under her breath. The form of the efreet coalesces above them, her angry face snarling at this forced labour. Orodreth sits cross legged and the candles sputtered and died, leaving only the fiery flashes of the efreet to light the scene.
Orodreths deep bass voice began its sonorous chant. Gradually the chanting of the two blackrobes began to synchronise. As this happened, they were lit by an internal blue light. In time with the chanting the blue light in each of them slowly began to reach out to the other.

As the lights met, the efreet cried out and appeared to be dragged from above Forgileill to near Orodreth, seeming to fracture as it crossed the barrier of the active circle, only to meld back together the other side. Forgileill rose to her feet and drew her taiken with one hand and a kynac with the other. She nodded to her uncle. The others readied their weapons and joined her in an outward facing circle.

The older, more experienced blackrobe smiled briefly at his distant niece and then with an almost casual flick of the wrist, motioned the efreet into the fabric of the circle. All of those being transported felt a sudden lurch and staggered as if swooning. There was only the briefest moment of blackness, during which even Tud thought he could see the efreet burning their trail through the ether. In the space of three heartbeats, they’d arrived.

The transition from underground to early spring afternoon in the boreal forest was not quite the uncomfortable experience that it could have been, as magical transportation goes. Any discomfort felt was entirely due to their new circumstances. They were all stood on a beach, Erlini, closest to the shore was in knee deep freezing water. It was so cold it hurt. It took her breath away. Her eyes watered. She was not best pleased to feel Tud Ap Brenin, one of her ‘friends’ shove her from behind. Immersion in melt water was certainly invigorating, but she felt that it was not a degree of invigoration that she needed.

Fire rolled across the surface of the water. The top surface boiled above her. The few inches of cover she had prevented scalding, but if she’d had been stood up, then she’d have died in the conflagration.


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