by Langland, J.
"As I recall, it's only the fourth one captured this decade," said Jehenna.
"Yes and probably the most powerful in at least 100 years. What I don't understand, besides the fact that it initially let itself go around unguarded, is why, when we first spotted it, did it appear as nothing more than a first order demon."
"I don't know, by its lights it only appeared a minor demon, yet when cornered we needed fourth order bindings to hold the creature. I am thinking that perhaps we shouldn't have gone after it."
"Do you think I would have knowingly gone after a fourth order demon, with a group of students and with no more preparation than we had. No, I was just so surprised to find any unbound demon out there, and then when I thought it was first order…well, how could I refuse the students a chance to bind a demon. As you said it is only the fourth one this decade."
"Well, they did get a lesson, we almost got toasted," replied Jehenna a bit more emphatically, but still reservedly.
"I was sure that it was first order up until it began to flee, then with its speed, I figured maybe second. Especially when it so readily gave its name."
"Then it turned and blasted you with an energy bolt, and then twice more."
"I must admit that somewhat took me off guard."
"’Off guard’ my ass. It damn near laid you flat. Don't lie to me; I was in the link next to you. I felt that blast." Jehenna’s concern for his well-being was showing through. Lenamare knew it wasn’t the student’s safety she worried about, but rather his.
"OK, so it did put a strain on me; but, I did manage to maintain my pose and concentration, and not reveal my weakness to the demon."
"Granted. I admit that if that blow had hit me directly, I might have faltered a little more than you did."
"Needless to say, that's when I first realized we had a higher order demon on our hands. However, by that point, as you well know, if we'd stopped, it could have come rampaging back on us and thrashed us severely. Our pentacles could never have stood against it, no stronger than the wards we had set were." He gestured to the six pentagrams on the workroom floor. As any observer could have noted, the wards were set to guard against bound demons and unbound minor demons, but not a major unbound demon. The room itself contained only the six pentagrams, five braziers within the five pentagrams sympathetic to the primary pentagram, the chair in which Lenamare sat beside a small table with chalk and a few vials of conjuration supplies. The walls were, as a matter of course, curtained solidly, so that the demon could not find a way out, or tell where it was in the world of men. "It was sheer providence that we had some Orl wood in the room and the few other supplies necessary for the fourth order binding."
"Actually, as to that, I am surprised we got it even then," commented Jehenna, "Its dodging upward, and then attempting to dematerialize from the astral plane, actually suggests fairly high intelligence. Why it didn't try a few other fourth order tricks, I'm not sure."
"That plays to my first question, why was it wandering around unguarded, posing as a small demon anyway?"
"To lure silly wizards into trying to capture it, so it could possess them?" suggested Jehenna.
"Well, if that was its game, it might have succeeded if any of the students had broken. Again, I'm mad at myself for not taking better precautions today."
"Well, luckily they didn't break, and there is no way for you to have anticipated finding an unbound greater demon." By this time, Jehenna had finished putting out the braziers and her internal fire seemed to be subsiding; she walked over and put her hand on Lenamare's shoulder; staring down at him the cold mage light hovering above their heads.
"The whole thing still bothers me; why did it act so confused about the whole thing?" Lenamare sighed, shaking his head.
"That, I have no answer for, so we won't worry about it for now. OK?" Jehenna asked, trying to put the matter to rest.
"If you insist."
"I do," and with that she kissed him on the forehead and left the room.
Chapter 3
At the party, Paul was freaking out. He had been leaning over Tom, trying to get him to come to. At first, he had thought Tom was joking, but when he noticed how pale his friend was he became worried. He shook and yelled at Tom to wake up.
Finally after several minutes Tom looked like he was about to come to, then the lights had flickered and the iPod spontaneously rebooted and the powered speakers turned off; Tom screamed and stopped breathing. Everyone had all gone wild then, as fast as they could Paul and Jack had tried CPR, but they had only seen it done, never actually been trained in it. Mike called an ambulance, and the entire party had stopped to watch them try to help Tom. It didn't do any good.
Now the ambulance was here and the police were on the way. The medics worked over Tom for a few moments and then decided there wasn't much they could do. He was dead. Paul and Jack cornered Reggie in the back room.
"What the fuck was in that joint you gave him, Reggie?" Paul demanded.
"Nothin’, the guy I bought it from said it was just a new special high grade shit grown in Puerto Rico. I swear! I don't know what happened." A terrified Reggie pleaded, he was scared to death someone would tell the cops he gave Tom the joint. “He was even smoking it out of this big ass old fashioned tobacco pipe when I met up with him. Or that’s what he said he was smoking.”
"Are you sure, cause if you're lyin’, I'm gonna bust your balls and turn you into the police for murder. Tom is dead because of your fuckin’ shit," raged Jack.
"I swear to god, man. I didn't know. I had part of one this evening, it had an incredible high but otherwise seemed perfectly normal to me, I didn’t pass out or anything. Please, I swear to you, I didn't put anything in the joint. You've gotta believe me."
"What are we gonna do?" Paul asked Jack.
"Shit, I don't know. You got any more of those damn joints?"
"Yeah, sure, four. Here." He handed four joints to Jack.
"Anyone else smoke this shit?" asked Paul.
"No, I swear."
"What do we do?" asked Paul.
"Let's just flush 'em and ride it out, it's all we can do. Pretend he had a heart attack," Jack answered.
"I hope it works," said Paul.
"So do I. So do I."
Introduction to the Astral Plane
By Ase Onan Archimage of Turelane 1334-1362 Ani Chronia
WARNING: The following treatise is intended only for those skilled in the Wizardly Arts. All others shall most assuredly be stricken with befuddlement and confusion.
The Astral Plane is a plane of spirit and energy. It is completely unlike the planes of men. The wizard (or other spell user) journeys there in spirit form (raw animus). Only the caster's spirit goes, all of his or her material possessions remain on the planes of men with his or her body.
On the Astral Plane the caster's spirit is attached to his material body by what appears to be an umbilical cord of a silvery colour (thus called the Silver Cord). This cord is not in fact unique to the Astral Plane, the silver cord is an extension of the network that attaches or anchors animus to the body. If a wizard were to use the spell Anima Travel, to travel in spirit form in the planes of men, the silver cord would still connect the caster's animus to his or her body. This silver cord is the life link. If it is cut, or severed, the owner of the silver cord has some severe problems. Certain spirit and demonic creatures may damage or sever the silver cord as may some magic artifacts and certain spells. If the silver cord is damaged, the caster should return to his or her body for 24 hours to let the silver cord 'repair/restore itself.'
The Astral Plane itself is rather disconcerting to the novice visitor. There is no 'ground' on the Astral Plane, nor is there an up or down. It is just a vast space, apparently without gravity (but since everything is spirit there, how can one tell?). The Astral Plane appears to be filled with a glowing multicoloured vapor or mist. There are large brightly coloured regions of mist of all imaginable colours; there are even a few colour empty reg
ions, simply white. Because of this 'mist' visibility is not far and orientation in the Astral Plane is hard. Generally, one needs some form of spell or device to provide directions.
What purpose does the Astral Plane serve? It is not completely clear to most scholars, but apparently, the Astral Plane is a nether ground, or highway, between the planes of existence. Only spirits may traverse it, and most religions believe that the spirits of the dead must cross it to reach the home planes of their various deities.
What is known is that various creatures, many of which are of malevolent natures, roam the Astral Plane. It is well known to wizards that demons frequent this plane. It is in fact on the Astral Plane where wizards find new demons that have never been bound before. What these demons are doing there is not clear, but they often wander freely on the plane. Spirits of the dead and all sorts of other spirits traveling between the planes of men and the planes of gods also travel there.
In principle, deities may also wander this plane, but none has ever been recognized, or at least categorically recognized by any wizards. Clerics and priests will make all sorts of claims, but their views are typically biased by their religious fervor.
On the Astral Plane, spells that require material components will not work, unless the spell is specifically designed to use material components on the planes of men and effect the Astral Plane. Further spells that rely on physical effects to produce damage have no effect on the Astral Plane, since there is nothing physical to effect. Energy based spells, such as lightning and fire based spells, do work, but they do significantly less damage than on the Planes of Man. Only pure energy spells or spells oriented towards spirits will do actual damage. Spells of an indirect nature, that do not rely on physical effects, nor do direct physical damage, work normally.
If one knows where one is on the Astral Plane, relative to the Planes of Man, then in principle it is possible to effect the Planes of Man with some spells from the Astral Plane. The difficulty lies in having a clue as to the correspondences, and getting any information about what is happening on the planes of men.
The only wizard spell to really provide such information is my own mentor’s: Aerelion's Astral Seeker. The Seeker will seek out an individual on the Planes of Man, from the Astral Plane. This spell will allow the caster to attack the target's animus on the planes of men from the Astral Plane.
If the silver cord is severed while on the Astral Plane, the spirit is basically stuck there. Unless the caster has some means, spell or otherwise to form a new body on the Planes of Man, or receives help from another, he or she is stuck for eternity. On the Astral Plane, animus will not dissipate, unlike on the Planes of Man, however this only means the individual is stuck there until the end of time. His or her body on the Planes of Man will die within a few days, depending on the strength of the individual’s own Animus.
Of course, at such a point one is basically dead; in theory, if one’s religious contracts are in order, it should be possible to somehow get to one’s reserved afterlife in the Plane of one’s particular deity or pantheon. However, exactly how that works, or how one locates said plane is beyond not only the scope of this text, but also the purview of Wizardry. Please check with one’s preferred priest or cleric for more information.
In any event, this severing on the Astral Plan may or may not be preferable to having one's silver cord severed while traveling from one's body on the Planes of Man. When this occurs, the spirit is in real trouble and will immediately need to find some means of protecting itself or it will be dissipated back into nature. The body will die in the same time period. A spirit whose Animus dissipates into nature, cannot be reincarnated or raised, or resurrected by normal means. Only extremely powerful cleric invocations can bring the individual back.
An individual, whose spirit is trapped on the Astral Plane, can usually be contacted, by the appropriate, speak/commune with dead/spirit type spells. Which brings up an unpleasant point for most self-respecting wizards. If one is in one of these situations, often times the person best suited to help the individual is a highly experienced necromancer. Of course, such help may be worse than no help; but necromancers specialize in securing spirits on the Planes of Man. Naturally, there would be a steep price, in many ways, for dealing with such an individual. Slavery to the necromancer as an undead creature, being only one possibility.
Chapter 4
The world blinked. Slowly. Sort of like a Broadway play where the lights fade out on one scene and then fade back in on another, say on a different part of the stage. Except, Tom was at the center of the lighting and it was the world that faded out and back in again. He was still on his hands and knees on stone: rough, raw, natural stone, not stone flagging like in the room with the psychos.
He was dizzy. He needed to catch his breath; except that, he just realized, he wasn’t breathing! Tom quickly inhaled. Hot, dry, very dry air filled his lungs and he breathed out again. He wrinkled his nose the smell of rotten eggs in the air; was that sulfur? Shit, he wasn’t breathing again! He forced himself to breathe again; if he didn’t think about it, he didn’t breathe! Well that would make life difficult! How was he going to sleep?
The next thing Tom noticed was a huge cliff to his left and a stone cliff wall to his right. A curved stone cliff for that matter. The ledge was curving around a stone cliff. He looked up…and up…OK that went up dizzyingly high; and it was cylindrical. He glanced over the edge to his left. He pulled his head back quickly. The drop was every bit as bad downwards as upwards. He thought he saw ground below, but there were clouds, dark grey clouds, below him, and flames. Fire? The ground below seemed to have molten lava on it and jets of flame that were shooting up hundreds if not thousands of feet in the air.
Whoosh! Went a loud noise off to his left; he turned his head to see a ball of fire expanding into the thin air and then contracting and disappearing. As he looked around, he saw other fireballs expanding and contracting randomly out of nothing. What the hell?
Hell? Fire, lava, flames, sulfur? Was he dead and gone to hell? Tom felt light headed. He must have forgotten to breathe again. He resumed breathing; he tried to breathe through his mouth to avoid the nasty stench in the air.
Tom shook his head and stood up. Or rather, he tried to stand up; he had to catch his balance on the stone column beside him. He was a bit unsteady. He looked down at his legs. Oh shit! They were the same legs he’d had in the room with the psychos! Hooves, he fucking had hooves! Like a goat! Concentrating on his feet, it felt like he was standing on his toes, but his toes were cloven hooves! He had like two toes on each foot and they were all nail! Or, mostly all nail, he closed his eyes to try to feel them; tapping his toes on the stone.
No, he had toes; it was just that what felt like his toenails surrounded each of his toes. He wasn’t standing on his toes, he was standing on his toe nails! That was weird. He looked down again, so what looked like his ankles were really the balls of his feet. His feet felt weird, he flexed and twisted them. It seemed as if there were a lot fewer bones and tendons in his foot. That would make sense with only two toes. His hooves were probably eight inches in diameter, huge! His foot was nearly as big around, but it was at least two feet long and since he was standing on his toes, his feet were arched upward and backwards towards his ankle which was probably 12 inches off the ground between his long feet and rather tall hooves.
His shins were bent back, as one would expect for standing on one’s toes, perhaps 2 and half feet long they came forward to his knees, leading into massive calves. As his heels were probably 18 inches behind him, his knees were nearly two feet in front of him and his thighs rose like mighty trunks coming into his hips more from the front than straight down. It was as if he were crouching. His thighs were easily three feet long and certainly over 18 inches in diameter at their thickest point.
Holy Shit! Nestled between his thighs was a third leg! At least that’s what Tom thought at first. His manhood was huge! If someone were to say he was hung like a horse, h
e’d have to consider that an insult! He was not aroused, yet the appendage was at least eight inches in diameter and eighteen inches long. His penis hung down half way down his thighs; or would have, except it went straight down. He was also uncircumcised. That struck him as odd and disconcerting suddenly. Why would that be odd compared to the rest of this? His testicles, for example, were larger than softballs and hung almost as low as the head of his penis! That thing was a weapon!
His pubic hair was a thick wiry mess of black hair. Actually, that was the first hair he’d seen. The skin on his legs was thickly scaled. He rubbed his thighs. The scales were very hard almost like armor plating, with small hairs around the edges of the scales. Tom shook his head in shock. This was unreal.
Of course not as unreal as having a twelve pack of abs! Jesus Christ! His abs were insane, there weren’t that many abs on a human body, were there? His serratus muscles on his rib cage looked like speed bumps. His pectoral muscles where huge red slabs with large thick nipples. He flicked one and nearly curled over in pain/pleasure. Clearly very sensitive.
He lifted his left arm, noting that his upper arm was now larger than most men’s thighs. In fact, probably larger than every human man’s thighs! He flexed; his bicep expanded into a giant mound. The scaling on his fore arms seemed a bit heavier than on the rest of his upper body. His lats were god awful huge though, making it so that his arms, when lowered, were some ways from his torso.
Tom paused. While peering under his arm he noticed movement behind him, sort of like a flag in the wind. There wasn’t much wind up here, so what was the flag moving to? Well, now that he thought about it, there was a slight breeze behind him. He turned his head to peer over his shoulder.
Christ! There was an absolutely huge pair of bat like wings rising from a mound of muscle between his shoulder blades! No wonder his deltoids were so far apart! He had wings! Giant, huge, freaking bony, like bat wings with a thick webbing between the ‘fingers’ of his wings. He concentrated. It took some mental locating, but he fairly quickly found that he could stop the wings from fanning him and expand and contract them.