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From: stiltman@teleport.com (Stilt Man)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [Tor][AD] Demonstrations (parte the first)
Date: 24 Mar 1995 21:27:52 -0800
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[ObADMIN:  This story was originally hallucinated in a bad trip on the part
of myself, with some rewrites from Corey Venour and Alex Young.  Most
particularly, the part where Arcania enters the font room was written by
Mr. Venour.  Corey has permission to put this on his home page of ritual
tortures (not in the "Dear Dog" section, please :), which for those of you who
might want to see copies of both BBD threads, the DarkSeed thread, and the AD
and Tor'el threads, is at <http://www.cit.gu.edu.au/~cvenour/dragons-inn>.]

[ADMIN2:  There is indeed a second part to this story, but since it's been
over a month since anything last got posted, I figured I'd better get this
out so people don't forget that this particular thread is still going, and
so we don't have to stick some stakes on the ground to measure whether it's
moving anywhere.  :) ]

[ADMIN3:  This story is copyrighted (c) 1995, and may not pass into the public
domain until 50 years after the author's death as per United States copyright
law.  If the author or anyone else who's been dead for 50 years is posting to
the net, drop me a line.  Since Corey Venour has been wishing the author was
dead for at least fifty years (he's gotten a few friends to wish with him,
so he can count them in addition to his own), he can put this on his home
page.  The rest of you can't copy it for any reason except general archival,
and may not be distributed on any commercial basis for any remunerative
amount.  All rights except the above, including repost, rewrite, rehash,
and recycling, are reserved to the sentient authors (if any).  All characters
in this story and the distinctive likenesses thereof are the property of their
authors, and are used with permission as part of our conspiracy to turn the
Dragon's Inn into a nursing home.  No animals were harmed in the testing of
this story, except of course for the ones who had to read it.  However, several
animals were harmed in the writing of this post, namely the cats that got
turned into tennis racket strings to relieve stress every time I made a typo.

Now that I'm done failing to be funny, have a day.  :) ]

	/
@-------0======================>
	\

Arcania drew many strange looks as she stepped through the gates of the
shattered fortress.  The architectural design here was much as it was at
any fortress on Tor'el:  fairly old-fashioned stone, and very battered by
past warfare involving Vortex-motion energy.  Arcania had some respect for
Kronos' choice of a target; it was a fair distance away from the fortress
of either K'al or of Emrikol, it possessed a functional power font, and it
was also ruled by a reasonably capable lord.  The lord in question was not
even half as capable of using a power font to its fullest extent, which was
a large part of the reason why he was still alive in these days.  However,
he was a bit more capable than most of the other lords who were left in
control, and his location in addition to that consideration made him the
optimal target.

The actual appropriation of this site for her research was not difficult:
a Khamilon was simply brought in to replace the ruling lord, along
with Thurlans enough to possess numerous of his guards, as well as those who
emanated the sorts of unnatural energies that made them stand-out agents of
K'al.  K'al was almost childlike in his guileless ways, by Arcania's standards,
but it mattered little in the end, she knew, because either way he was beyond
her ability to destroy at this point by virtue of the sheer brute force he
controlled through the Vortex.  She might possibly be able to kill him through
stealth, it was true, but that would solve little except to leave the Vortex
without a conscious control.  That could possibly lead to any number of
different outcomes, most of which were very ugly and very difficult to escape.

Arcania was not the sort of arch-magess who was in the habit of making moves
out of a gambling instinct.  She played by her own rules, with a great deal
of caution and circumspection.  K'al would meet his fate; that much was
certain.  Emrikol would very probably be close behind him.  The man of the
bandaged hands had already proven once that his possibility-manipulating runes
were extremely versatile in latching onto greater sources of power, despite
his relatively meager power base in comparison to her own.  True, her last
memories of him were of one with few runes remaining intact, but caution
dictated that she make certain.

Arcania strode into the central building of the fortress with a small
entourage of guards, to find Kronos and a man in greenish robes waiting for
her.  She looked at Kronos, expectations of a report clear in her facial
expression.

Kronos did not disappoint.  "This one has been acquired by the Thurlan.  The
others are serving their duties around the fortress, keeping an eye upon
matters to make certain that you are seen as nothing more than a simple
guest, a leman perhaps."

The pride of Arcania sparked a certain disapproval of such a tack, but the
harmony of this fortress was of at least some concern until more Thurlans
could be brought to possess the remaining people here.  Her dimensional
spells were needed for other things at the moment, and a possible revolt
here while she was off investigating the mysterious results of the foray of
Emrikol and Kryalla to the Vortex was not something she wished to deal with.

"You have also acquired those agents which K'al has here?"  The assertion
that there would be some such was not in question.

"Indeed, Empress," replied Kronos.  "All of the false information we need to
feed to this self-styled Ruler of Tor'el can be brought to him at our
convenience.  He need never know that we are even here."

"Excellent," affirmed Arcania.  "Where is your mercenary?"

"He is making acquaintances with the soldiery here," said Kronos.  "His role
is as one of the sergeants here, hired off-plate by our friend here," he
gestured to the man in robes.

"I see," said Arcania.  "Has the Mirror from the Hall been put in place?"

"In a location which meets your specifications."

"Good.  We may need it," said Arcania.  "If that is so, our subject can be
transported back to my sanctum for examination, do I judge it necessary to
return there."

"You think that there may be a life form involved?" asked Kronos.

"I know not," said Arcania.  "Whether there is or no, methinks that something
will find its way there in time."  Arcania turned towards the weeping gash
in the sky.  "Command the agent of K'al to give his normal report of `all is
well.'  I will be needing your assistance to bring the strike force here."

"As you wish, Empress."

"When the preparations are complete return here. I wish to examine the source
of the Duke's power."

Kronos bowed as he turned to leave. Arcania motioned to the green robed Duke
to accompany her to the partially hidden metallic door behind the throne.

"You have tried to enter the Font Chamber?" Arcania asked the Duke, while she
examined the door.

"Of course, Empress. Without much luck, however. There seems to be some force
preventing the entry of any but those with the power to control the font." 

Arcania nodded, and dismissed the Duke with a wave of her small hand. She
would have better luck at entering the Chamber. If power was the only
prerequisite, she should have no trouble. She approached the strangely wrought 
door. The door was made of a black metal that seemed to absorb any light that 
touched it. The metal felt cool to Arcania's touch, as she grapsed the handle 
to open it. 

The door seemed to be exerting a force to prevent her from opening it, but
with only the slightest touch of added strength she pulled it open. The
passage beyond was quiet and very dark. Lined with the same metal as the door,
it, too, absorbed all light. No matter, Arcania was long able to walk in even
the darkest cave unaided.

The passage way sloped down, leading back into the mountain that the keep was
built against. She passed through two more of the metallic doors, each more
difficult to open than the last. Eventually the passage opened into a large
chamber, that seemed to stretch upwards to fill the heart of the mountain. 

The walls were lined with waist-high tables, sloping towards the centre of the
room, each covered with decaying black cloth. The centre of the chamber was 
dominated by a huge metallic column, softly glowing with an azure flame. The 
column emanated power. Not large volumes, but more than enough to make any 
wielder a more than competent mage. If this was a lesser font, then she could 
understand why K'al was so powerful with control over the Vortex. 

As Arcania approached the metallic column, she felt the stirrings of a chill
wind. The closer she moved, the stronger the wind became, until it was
buffetting her. But Arcania braced herself and kept moving forward. When she
was five paces from the column, the wind abruptly ceased, to be replaced by
the transluscent forms of five long dead beings. Each was robed in rich azure
velvet, which seemed to decay as Arcania watched.

The four at the back formed a wall betwixt Arcania and the column, as their
moans filled the chamber. The foremost figure approached Arcania until he
could reach out and touch her. 

"Why have you come to this place, Arcania Dorval? You have no claim to the
power of this Font." The being's eyes glowed like twin black flames, as his
skeletal jaw worked to form the words. "Your place is not on this world. Leave
now, before you regret it."

Arcania looked past the spirits to the power font, examining all before her
carefully while she considered her options.  "I ask your pardon if I have
offended.  I sought only to set eyes upon that which you invoke for your
power, old spirit."

"None may approach, but the descendants of Chi-eng-eer. And the last of that
line is dead. We are the final guardians of the font, and I tell you again,
none may approach."

While the spirit spoke, Arcania finished her scrutiny of its fellows. Each was
clearly a Duke of this keep, at one time or another. The form on the far left
she recognized as the Duke that she herself had removed and replaced.  That
one seemed most grieved of the five.  That the fact that his mind was being
drawn upon by her minion had some cause in this she did not doubt.

The spirits continued to moan, until Arcania gestured with her right hand.
All five spirits were grasped as if by unseen hands and pulled to the corner
of the room, into the waiting bars of an ensorceled cage formed to accomodate
them.  A brief cacaphony of shrieks reached her ears, and then the room fell
silent, leaving her quite alone in the dimly lit chamber.

"I can and will approach," Arcania whispered into the darkness as she
strode unimpeded towards the glowing metallic column.

			=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"So you're saying you have no idea who you are, where you came from, or even
what, exactly, you are?" said Emrikol, doubt clear on his face.

"Yes, that's what I'm saying," replied the shapeshifting humanoid that sat
in the chair betwixt the Duke and Duchess-apparent.  "I wasn't even fully
aware of what I was doing until your ladyfriend here," he flicked a hand up
at the ebon form of the Shrouded One, "blasted me with that funky red jolt."

"I see," said Emrikol, still not fully accepting of this.  "What do you think?"
he asked of Kryalla.

The midnight-colored eyes of Kryalla Simuel did not leave the confused face
of the being who called himself "Shifter," either out of a lack of awareness of any other identity or possibly in concealment of one.  Abruptly Shifter's eyes
seemed to wander around the room, as if looking at something the rest of them
could not see.  This elicited a quite venomous narrowing of the eyes from the
Shrouded One, who nodded in acknowledgement of the action and pulled her Shroud
cloak more tightly about herself.  She continued to stare deeply into his eyes,
and Emrikol began to suspect that she was conducting her own form of
examination in ways he could not see.  He could sense some magic being used,
though the subtlety of it was sufficient that he knew not what, and composed
himself patiently for her to finish whatever it was she was doing and part
with whatever paltry scraps of wisdom she felt he was worthy of hearing.

Her eyes wandered his way even as the thoughts crossed his mind, and again he
reminded himself irritably to watch where his mind wandered to with someone
who could practically see into his head.  A corner of her lips rose in half-
amusement, and she turned back towards the shapeshifter.

After a time of staring betwixt Kryalla and Shifter, she turned away and
strode from the room.  Emrikol, confused as to what she was thinking as
ever, glared at Shifter one last time before following, leaving their guest
in the care of the room's guards, in whom he had little confidence where
keeping that thing under control was concerned if he didn't want to be.

"So?  What are your conclusions?" he asked.

"He possesses some attunement into reality, though he is neither the source
of it nor is aware of it himself," she replied, surprising him with her
uncharacteristic candor.  "His person dampens magic, such that my attempts
to probe into his psyche were difficult at best.  Even in a lack of full
awareness he can see through some of my own deception magic.  Were he in
possession of his full faculties, he might well be able to see through all
of it."  She shook her head.  "I question our ability to truly keep him in
rein, should he turn savage once more.  There is much we might learn from him,
and much danger in the learning should he turn against us."

"This attunement to reality," Emrikol ventured, "where does it come from?"

"It is different from the nature of your runes," Kryalla said.  "He attains
it from some outside source, which I suspect is not even of this world.  It
is nothing I have encountered before, for the influence of this source is
not present on Arghan.  It might have power on Nexus, though having never
seen one with this ability, I may well have missed it ere now."  She shrugged.
"It could well be that if the Vortex were closed, it might not even have
influence here any longer.  I was never here to see such a power ere the
Vortex was created, so I know not for certain."

"So the only thing we know for sure is that we don't know much," said Emrikol.
"I'm sure that some philosophical loony or another would consider us wise for
knowing that."

"It is a beginning," Kryalla conceded.

"All right," Emrikol said sarcastically, "you're the see-all-know-all of this
operation.  What do we do?"

Kryalla shrugged.  "We continue our examination, and pray to whatever gods we
worship that no one who might hear from Brianna is smart enough to realize that
something is being hidden from her."

As if the thought summoned the deed, at that moment the unmistakable sound of
stone crumbling to rubble reached their ears.  Emrikol's eyes sort of rolled
in the general direction of the commotion, before looking back to her.

"You mean, like them?"

The expression on Kryalla's face was a priceless exhibition of unreadability.

			=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=

Arcania stood on the surface of the plate, observing as the Balroqs pounded
their way through the outer wall of the fortress.  The assault on the first
power font had been through stealth, with the Khamilons and Thurlans serving
as her means.  This time she had little forebearance.  She knew Emrikol was
a fully-capable wielder of a functional power font, and as she was unsure
how much the strength of different fonts might vary, she was justifiably
cautious about her approach.  Thus her continued caution in this situation
left her with little choice but to apply a bit of brute force of her own.

The gatehouse doubtlessly was protected by some form of magic, the red runes
etched into them were evidence of that.  The walls, however, were likely not
expected to be broken in such a manner, so the Balroqs went through them
instead.  Her prediction was not in error.

Two larger daemons, purple in skin color, taller and more stocky in build than 
the crimson Balroqs, stood on either side of Arcania, observing the reactions
of the defenders.  An archer apparently felt his arrows might do some good.
The daemon lords felt that this was not a question they wanted answered with
a demonstration.  An upraised hand of violet, a ball of the black and purple
Soul Flame was hurled, and the archer felt his life force being tortured
and twisted from his body.  He fell to the parapets, not a mark on his flesh
to indicate that he was dead.

The section of the wall betwixt gate and the tower facing its left crumbled
under the power of the Balroqs, as they crashed through it to gain forcible
entry into the courtyard of the keep.  Several others of their kind waited
close behind, while still others were awing overhead, raining fiery breath
down upon those foolish enough to stand in the open.

Emrikol, having never seen when in full control of his faculties the raw power
of the Balroqs, themselves the purest expression of brute force amongst the
daemons of Arcania, was at first taken quite aback by the devastation that had
been wrought in so short a time.  Already several Balroqs stood in the
courtyard, with several more turning their huge bodies sideways to fit through
the opening made by their predecessors.  Outside, two huge purple beings, the
likes of which he had never seen, were simultaneously watching the parapets
for those resistors with courage enough to stand in view, and using their own
magic to bring more of Arcania's horrid minions through dimensional gates.
A miasma of fear wafted from these two monstrosities, and Emrikol could feel
his runes reacting instinctively to the life-choking magic that the twin
daemon lords of deep purple hue brought with their very presence.

Anger surged through him.  First his home was being shattered by K'al, and
now Arcania's daemons were taking vengeance for their Empress' exile by
finishing the job.  He did not return to Tor'el simply to see his birthplace
shattered.  His runes lit up like lanterns as they gripped the possibilities.
The stone of the keep that had fallen away rose from the ground and closed
back up in a wall, enmeshing one of the Balroqs in the process.  The red
daemon roared in fury as the wall reshaped around him, threatening to crush
the life from his gigantic body.

Kryalla, for her part, seemed to take little action herself.  Emrikol knew
better than to expect her defense to be obvious, but the weight of the
assault at hand seemed to demand a more clear response.  As if in answer,
a fiery shuriken appeared from nowhere and planted itself in the thick hide
of the nearest Balroq.  A second followed soon after, from a direction
opposite the first.  Kryalla herself quietly drew her katana and strode
towards the scene as the shower of fiery metal stars continued, though indeed
the assault seemed only to anger the crimson daemons more than harm them.

One of the Balroqs finally shrugged off the pain that he was being subjected
to, and ran towards the small woman before him.  His squatting, hairy legs
coiled, and he sprang at the ebonclad sorceress.  The moment he touched her,
a great explosion ripped through his body, hurling him away from her as a
giant rent was carved through his vitals, and he fell to the ground to lie
still.

Emrikol had lost all track of where his beloved truly was by now, but he
cared little at this moment.  His runes danced through the air as his voice
spoke and his hands traced them, forming intricate patterns that dazzled
the Balroqs that remained.  The dull yellow orbs that glittered within the
empty eyesockets of the daemons' tight-skinned skulls seemed to shrink for
a moment, as their attention was drawn to the pattern before them.  At the
end, a chain of adamant looped about them from above, holding their limbs
fast where they stood.

Alas, their power was not vanquished with this simple imprisonment, and they
were willing to illustrate this.  Their gaping maws spouted gouts of flames,
their magicks attempting to resist the crushing grip of their captor, their
huge muscles thrashing about to escape.  In the end, it availed them little,
but their efforts also availed those whom they struck little, as many soldiers
fell to the crazed flames striking all about in their futile efforts.

Emrikol reached out with his runes, and abruptly a new possibility touched
his mind.  He took it eagerly, and his runes drew the thought into reality.
His natural ability to control the power font of his family was dulled with
time, but the runes could change that with their manipulation.  The bright
blue energy of the font joined with the red and blue of his runes, and a
brilliant light enmeshed all within the courtyard in an azure haze.

The Balroqs in his chains were the first to feel his wrath, as their flesh
withered before the blue bolt that claimed them.  His body rose into the
air and settled on the parapet, looking down on the remainder of the attackers
outside the walls.

It was then that he first saw Arcania Dorval directing the assault.

Shock suffused his features, and only barely did he raise a defensive shell
to sustain the white streak of energy that she trained upon him.  The shell
held, the power of the font in full control now.  He turned that power down-
ward, and Arcania was staggered for a moment by the azure strike that he
bore down upon her with a force she had not felt in several centuries, save
at the hands of K'al.

Arcania set her feet, and suddenly the gatehouse of the fortress buckled under
the duke's feet. In his haste to regain his footing without crashing to
the earth, he was unprepared for the grasping hand that wrenched at his
mind.  He screamed in anguish, his runes leaving him with little defense
from such a mental attack, and this combined with the still buckling parapet
caused him to fall to the floor of the keep.

The twin daemon lords at Arcania's side took advantage of the opportunity,
and the soul flames of their fury inundated his body, straining at the
boundaries of his protective shell.  Still the greatest pain came from the
tearing claws he could feel within his skull, for the visible attacks of
the metaphysical he could more easily deflect.

And then the claws were torn away, painfully but surely, by another force.
Arcania seemed surprised only so long as it took her to remember that the
Shrouded One was still about.  The Dark One's mental strike was shunted
towards that other elusive being, whose presence was still unseen in this
place but was made clear by her intervention, whose mental defenses granted
her by the lengths of mysterious black cloth were far greater than those
affored by the runes, which in themselves had never been much for reaching
into the spiritual and psychic realms of magical power.

Emrikol returned to himself swiftly, out of instinct, though his skull still
pained him with a throbbing ache that he suspected would not soon subside
without a solid healing sleep.  He could sense but not truly see that Kryalla
was preventing the Dark One's attack from continuing, leaving him free to use
the font against her minions.

He began with the two purple creatures at the Empress' side.  Their
bombardment of black and purple flames that attempted to eat away at his
life force still continued, still being held back barely by his defensive
shield.  He made a sweeping gesture with his arm, and the flames ceased
to come near him, and were turned back at the two daemon lords.  They made
no signs of concern as they were struck with their own magic.  Their
invulnerability to their own power was clear, he reasoned.

Emrikol improvised quickly.  He drew the great sword that was his birthright,
and wove the red runes of defence to strengthen the blade. He then suffused it 
with the azure power of the font, making a blade that glowed a deep purple
with hatred of daemon spawn. He approached the twin daemons, where they stood
in the gap in the keep wall. He prepared a shield to protect him from the
daemon's life destroying magicks, and prepared to teach them about the
sanctity of a man's soul.

As he closed for combat, he felt the pouncing of a third demonic shape. Which
instead of landing on him, sailed over him to attack the deamon lords, taking 
his two assailants completely by surprise.  The two monsters' eyes widened as 
this new threat appeared, their life-sapping energies seemingly useless against
this force, as if its power was dampening their own. The new demon's jaws 
clamped down on purple flesh, slicing through to bone. As its hands gripped 
and tore at the first purple monstrosity, its legs flashed out to claw the 
second. The two monsters were forced to shift all their attention to the new 
threat, and in tandem hurled the new creature from them.

The creature landed on its feet in an impossible move that saw it almost
turning itself inside out to get its feet under itself. It was at this point
that Emrikol realized who it was he was seeing.

The two daemon lords seemed not to have the stomach for such an unforeseen
threat.  They backed away, out the ruin of the front wall and into the air
overhead, hoping it would not be able to shape wings to follow.

Shifter leaped for them but they had left the ground. He looked up with hungry
eyes, bloodlust fully aroused. A searing pain gripped his side as a blast of
energy struck him from nowhere, knocking him back against a wall. With a scream
of rage he turned to seek the new threat, only to spy Arcania Dorval standing
in the gateway.  She gestured to her minions without, signalling not to
interfere.  They turned their attention towards Emrikol, towards the guards.

Shifter went into a full charge towards Arcania.

Emrikol sucked in a breath preparing himself for the coming onslaught, letting 
it out slowly with the words, "Shifter, that is *not* a good idea . . . "

He had no further opportunity to reflect on the matter as the Balroqs turned
their attention back towards him.


+=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+
+	Kryalla Simuel the Shrouded One			  +
+=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+
+       . . . scribed by the Stilt Man,			  +
+		stiltman@teleport.com			  +
+=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+


 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
 =-=-=-=-= Corey Venour -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- cvenour@cit.gu.edu.au -=-=-=-=
 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
 =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= http://www.cit.gu.edu.au/~cvenour/ -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-