Portals

We spoke with Zorzol, and then with Marshall Lin of the front.
 
Of course, Zorzol's culinary capabilities offended Izol, so the two (whether both parties were in the know) did combat de la cuisine.
 
Murg used the weave to contact Sawscha (mixed response) and a secretary of Abadar in turn. His deity responded via a golden monkey idol, and awaited his questions:
"Is there a way to prevent the use of the weapon used to destroy Niverron?" YES.
"Is Eschaton acting of its own volition?" THE SERPENT'S BODY MOVES BY THE WILL OF THE HEAD.
"Is the Vecti Confederacy led by a mortal man?" NO.
 


 
Later, once he had recovered, Murg headed to the general mess tent to see how Izol and Zorzol were getting on. He was met with cheering and shouting: the food fight was on full swing. There was no fighting, no animosity, but both chefs were pulling out their specialties to see if their adversary could even go toe-to-toe with them.
 
Izol had hand-pulled noodles flying through the air as a sauce in several parts simmered here, marinated there. His trusty stock bubbled happily on the firespark's trusty pot, untouched and perfect.
 
Zorzol had kebabs rotating and roasting, skewered with crusted vegetables and smothered in a sauce so tangy the air shimmered around them.
 
The food finished for both at the same moment, and as it was dispersed to the crowd the reviews were in: a fifty-fifty split.
 
So, naturally, Izol issued a challenge: a cook-off. Marshall Lin, Sgt. Avari, and Pvt. Mick -- the first for his position, and the two remaining for their taste in food.
 
Since Izol had no feelings either way as to a dish to prepare, it was on Zorzol to pick a dish: Cockatrice Carbonara. The warlock himself started on some roast goose, to later wrap it in a a dough packet. In the meantime, Izol assembled the pieces of a salad featuring treant beard -- an unusual yet hearty ingredient.
 
The contest ended, and still the divide was fifty-fifty. It fell then to Murg, who tried to exclude himself from the contest -- due to his own gold on the line, of course.
 
So, then, the cleric asked for the ultimate arbiter of all contract and contest to judge.
 
This was a ruse; Murg diverted attention in order to distort the flavor of Zorzol's dish using a divine sort of mirage. It did not go without scrutiny, but with clever words and quick hands the bugbear was able to settle the competition.
 
In Izol's favor.
 
And Zorzol knew of Murg's deception, yet allowed for this public stunt. In private, he broke Murg's heart with his dish. "It's... incredible" was enough for the chef.
 


 

Reverse Artifice

 
Most importantly, Dannerick, Theo, and Steel did council in Steel's war camp & war forge. Theo first tested the obvious: the core represented a hole in the weave itself. Two cables or tubes connected to the broken core emanated conjuration magic by comparison, and the core's exterior (made of lead) concealed whatever else was inside. Theo summoned forth an unseen servant, which promptly began as if to smash the core against the ground. We... intervened, and without further interruption I opened the core, carefully:
 
The case was made of square blocks, which had to be carefully removed one by one. It was more a matter of time; I studied the inside and began to then set aside pieces methodically. It was then I realized how dangerous this was: raw magical energy threatened to erupt from inside, and even more of the tortured souls used to fuel the device were inside. It was not meant to be taken apart, and doing that would unleash this force in the same way an arcane weapon would -- destroying all within a mile, probably.
 
Theo and Steel mused that the device used a connection to a pocket dimension, which could "funnel" souls into the weapon -- similar to the magics Varunmund mastered. It was not likely that it was constructed, but instead physically constructed and then activated to gain its magical properties.
 
For proof of concept, Steel hammered some leftover lead into a sphere for Theo to cast a spell into: the idea worked, and the item held magic even though the casters couldn't see the effects.
 
In the meantime Dannerick inspected the magical tubes connected to the antimagic sphere: some kind of valve sat underneath what tortured-soul-gel remained in the tubes. Two tubes meant Dannerick could pick apart the second cylinder; the two-stage valve revealed itself to be a safety mechanism that locked the tubing once we removed the parts from the defeated construct.
 
There was a way, an unfortunate idea: the manasink. I besought Theo to sacrifice my protective gift to him. The once rod of absorpotion could be modified to protect the trio against any blowback or arcane mishap, and hopefully access whatever was inside. It would come at the cost of the rod, but was the only avenue I could imagine.
 
Hopefully, it would work...
 
Izol and Murg returned to the rest of us just as the setup was complete: the manasink was set, and some spare mythicite plates for extra shielding.
 
Just in time for the explosion.
 
Shards of metal and energy ripped through the tent. Theo's armor mitigated most of the blast for him, but the rest of us were knocked to the floor and riddle with internal bruising. Ignorant of us, the core rose into the air as its internals spun and whirred. It was back to life. A literal wall of screams ripped through it next, nearly piercing eardrums -- but our defensive countermeasures protected those outside of the tent. We all were not so lucky: the sheer terror of millions flooded our veins. Murg and Izol could only watch as we three scientists writhed in pain. Our mind eyes saw for a few moments Niverron's last: hundreds of thousands of people to be consumed by a black sphere that dripped threads of the weave. It bore a single eye, emotionless, before exploding to engulf the city and rip it from existence. A pain unlike any other, one that left us utterly drained.
 
Then the core fell back to the table, motionless. Even tired I could see some internal housing in that diabolical core. Theo telekinesed the core too him, sending me to the floor -- fine, fine. We gathered now on the thickly-carpeted ground, to see a nearly intact mechanism inside. He saw what I could not: a fine white-gray powder surrounding a small arcane portal. The entire construction was held by diamonds and gemstones suspended in mythicite.
 
Marshall Lin and the Redtail detatchment from Bezia burst into the tent, hearing the explosion. We talked them down, though not without Lin nearly ripping Crown Prince Steel's head off of his shoulders for giving the proud marshall orders.
 
But what was the mechanism, and why?
 
 

From a tree once

 
We returned for a moment's memory to when Izol was in Hallowfen, copying words from the bark of the Tree of Knowledge. One section spoke to him in particular: a myth, a trifle on the mystic binding of gods. The Endless was there by name. This knowledge from the tree was more philosophical, musing on how such a binding could be possible, and why.
 
This knowledge was also buried somewhere in Theo's brain: while studying in Excellion, the topic of planes, he read up on the bindings of planes. Krithi, the God-Killer, a last one of the giants who was bound beneath Ibrithil in a manner not unlike what the Tree of Knowledge shared with Izol. The eye he had seen in the vision of Niverron was the same from Jojen's memories.
 


 
The portal at the center of the antimagic field was a bound, dying god. That link is what allowed souls to fuel those constructs. And the more of these portals exist, the worse things on the material plane would become.
 
 

Conversations wrapped in blood

 
"The Endless is inevitable," Izol breathed.
 
Dannerick considered finally that he could reach out to Valryn about his previous construction.
 
It was then that Theo pulled out a dusty vial, the blood inside pulsing at his name: "Krasus, the Blood-Seer". Murg was against the idea, but we reasonable ones were not so hesitant.
 
A splatter of blood, a twist of magic, and we found ourselves once more in Krasus' pocket dimension. He had reorganized, with a beautiful manse of bloodstone and obsidian. The Blood-Seer welcomed us himself, at first threatening the group with runes before recognizing the vanguard for who we were.
 
Over tea, we discussed current events. Steel introduced the Claw, and learned that on the plane of fire mythicite is known as darglegresh, "dragonscratch", and is not uncommon. The core produced an interesting reaction from Krasus, who confirmed that: the core upon activation opens a portal to the sea of souls. The portal seals out the astral sea and "sucks in" the souls of the once-living into a tiny pocket. The Endless is what powers this, in a way -- the Endless can pass between veils and is thus manipulated to achieve this type of mechanism. When the core is created, it begins to pool the souls via portal-void, "charging" in a way. It is innumerably expensive to create.
 
Krasus suspects an elder archmage, a wizard who exists outside time and history, is at the center of this. Only a being of that status could afford the time, experience, creativity, power, and all else in order to build a device so complex.
 
His additional thought was this: who (or what) cares about the souls of the dead? "The gods, of course." Asmodeus, Lord of the Dead, would make a prime suspect -- He has involved Himself in the affairs of the vanguard before.
 
Krasus did not like Valryn (when he was mentioned by name). However, he did offer a portal to Auren, the plane of air, in order to speak to the royal court there. To return within a day for said portal, he offered Theo a magnificent pewter vial filled with more of his blood. Steel took it, so that Theo could remain with Krasus.
 
Steel returned to the plane material, to repair the tent and catnap. Murg came with him, to help around the camp before the two returned to Krasus' domain.
 
In the veil of blood, Dannerick searched the walls of the library for tomes from adventurers past and other histories that could help the vanguard. Other than a footnote about the existence of a charismatic tome deep within the Blackrage, in the realm of the dwarves, Dannerick found nothing of use to him presently.
 
Krasus asked Dannerick about M'Crush -- as far as the mage could tell, the tortle did not die in the cataclysm Dannerick escaped but instead "fell between the planes" (as Krasus tried to explain [his feelings]). He promised Dannerick that on the next time they met, he would show the fledging magicker how to also find M'Crush.
 
On asking Krasus, the confused wizard gifted Izol ten scrolls of whispering sands. He also walked the firespark through some books about the Tree of Knowledge and some elvish dynasties that researched it.
 
 

Into the Portal(s)

 
Well-rested enough, Murg and I returned to Krasus' realm to regroup with the rest of the vanguard.
 
Together, with Krasus' magics, we were teleported through blood and fire on a pillar of wind to Ouran, the plane of air and home to Prince Dannerick.
 


 
We arrived on a watch-island, a sort of lookout scattered around the Ouran plane. As we arrived, an airship made its way from another one of these watch-islands to our location. Humanoids looking much like Dannerick alighted, confronting the vanguard before recognizing Dannerick on sight and calling him prince.
 
And with a great shout, Dannerick called for "VALRYN!"
 
A portal to the right revealed Valryn at his desk, surrounded by glass-cased scrolls. He looked identical to the Prince of Air, if only older and with a lengthy beard.
 
"Well, I didn't think I'd be seeing you for a while. Come on in!"
 


 
Taking Valryn's counsel, it took little to convince him of the seriousness of our quest. From somwhere protected in his office, he poured a concealed vial into one of his eyes -- a protection from the magics he sealed away so long ago. This confirmed ours and his fears: that it had happened again, and that his help was needed once more.