NationStates Jolt Archive

"Imperial Passenger Vessel Ares now arriving at Nilfheim colony." The vessel hardsealed with the airlock, allowing the doors to open and its passengers to disembark. Three men and three women, all dressed in red robes bearing the Imperial Seal of New Haven on each person's back, quietly shuffled out without luggage and apparently unarmed (although each member carried an ornate Falcata and several ornate throwing daggers disguised with their robes).

They had come to speak to a Bryn Shanderese priest to talk about... business that needed to be undertaken for the preservation of the Imperium. They quickly shuffled off into the crowds, making their way to the nearest temple dedicated to Tempus, the Faerunian God of War.

It didn't take the cultists long to find the Foehammer's temple. It was an imposing stone fortress on the edge of the urban area of the capital. Flanking its grey stone walls were small shrines to the demipowers of war Red Knight, demigoddess of strategy, and Garagos, demigod of war's carnage and destruction.

At the temple's open gate, the cultists were 'greeted' by a pair of the church's younger acolytes, armed with large, battle worn halberds and clad in well-used plate, who simply nodded to acknowledge the presence of the New Havenites. Inside, the temple was fairly spartan and bare, except for the central shrine to the fallen that was decorated with the battered shields and rusted swords of the dead. Behind the altar in the center of the shrine and encased in a large, magically lit case, was a single sword. Its three foot, blood stained blade was broken a foot from the jeweled crossguard. Next to the blade was a small plaque engraved with its name, the name of the warrior who wielded it, and the matter in which it was broken.


CELEBRIL - ALARON NIGHTBANE
BROKEN DURING THE UNSUCCESSFUL
DEFENSE OF HIS FAMILY KEEP


As the cultists examined the artifacts within the shrine, the ranking priest of the temple approached them, clad in yellow robes trimmed with a red the color of fresh blood.

"I see that you have found Celebril, the shattered sword of our king's late brother. What brings you to the house of the Lord of Battles?

"We've come on a matter of great importance," The Lead Priest of the Cult of the Divine Imperator replied. "We have come seeking assistance in resurrecting our fallen Imperator, James Newman."

"...I see. Unfortunately, I recall that he died of natural causes. Only those that die of unnatural causes can be raised from the dead."

"That was the official report," the lead priest noted. "Until recently, we too took it at face value until a member of the Praetorian Guard, on his death bed, admitted that the Imperator had been poisoned by a supporter of Prince Robert taking control of the throne. Of course, the Imperator did not allow for a succession due to his foresight of such an occurance."

"Well, I suppose that changes things. Unfortunately, I am a warrior first and a priest second. Bringing back a man that has been dead for so long is well beyond my abilities. Further, I do not believe that the late Imperator's soul falls under the jurisdiction of any of the deities in our pantheon, Tempus, Kelemvor, or otherwise. Only a very powerful priest of the deity that holds sway over the soul would be able to attempt it."

"Alternatively, one could travel to the soul's resting place and negotiate directly with the gods in question. However, journeys to the outer planes are not to be taken lightly, and dealing with divine entities is best left to those with experience in such matters. Your best bet may be the King himself."

"Thank you. You have assisted us greatly," The head priest replied as he motioned to the others to follow him. As they left the temple, the head priest remarked, "Anyone know the way to King Nightbane's residence?"

"It's the large castle several miles down the main road." stated one of the acolytes of Tempus guarding the gate. "You can't possibly miss it."

The lead priest nodded as they walked down the road, foregoing transit via vehicle or horse while they walked to the castle in the distance. They spent many hours walking up to the castle from the distance, tired but still determined to complete their quest.

They walked up to the door, stopping six feet from it and announcing to the guards: "We are the Senior Priests and Priestesses of the Cult of the Divine Imperator of New Haven! We wish to be granted an audience with King Nightbane in order to complete our quest!"

"...Are you serious?" questioned the ranking guard at the gate to the large castle. "Do you honestly expect to be let in to see the King just like that? How about some credentials? You could be assassins for all I know."

"Do you honestly expect us to last five seconds in the presence of King Nightbane if we intended to assassinate him?" the priest replied. "It sounds like you doubt your own King! As for credentials..."

The Priest reached into his robe and extracted a sword, a Falcata that was charred and deformed, but engraved clearly in the blade was a simple message from one brother to another:

Ad Astra Per Aspera. Take care of yourself amongst the stars, older brother.

"This is the Sword of the First Imperator, kept in secret along with other relics of the Imperator and given to him by his brother before he died in battle against Bryn Shanderese forces in glorious battle. This is the sword that secured the Imperium when in its opening seconds was threatened by the blade of an assassin. The small dent in the cutting edge is where the sword struck the assassin's spine, and the blood from the attacker still resides within the dent. It also bears three knicks from where the Imperator's children struck it to test their worthiness (his twin daughters causing the largest, yet identical, marks)" The priest sheathed the blade and carefully placed it on the ground in front of the guard. "You may take it to King Nightbane to verify what it is."

"Well, I suppose that changes things. I can tell that you are speaking the truth. You may pass. However, only if you can make it through the castle's tests can you gain an audience with the King."

The two guards standing on the sides of the large gate each slammed the butt of their pole arms onto the expertly cut stone walkway and the huge forty foot tall ironwood doors swung open. Beyond was the castle itself. As the cultists walked through the massive portal, they found that the very fabric of the universe had been altered. They noticed that they immediately felt a surge of positive energy fill them, rejuvenating them in both body and soul. Colors and sounds seemed much more vivid, and the other side of the colony was no-longer visible faintly in the sky. Instead, the sky was a striking array of blues, purples, and oranges as though it were dusk.

As they continued through the large courtyard surrounding the huge stone castle, the cultists could see a cohort of skeleton soldiers clad in scale mail and armed with spears, shields, and swords marching in formation their left. To their right, a collection of stone golems worked in a small garden plowing the soil. On the castle's high walls, fierce looking gargoyles crouched in a silent vigil over the courtyard. From the ground, it was impossible to tell if they were actually alive or just statues. Should any of the cultists turn around, they would notice that the scene on the other side of the gate was not like the area that they had just been standing in.

When they made their way up the high stone ramp to the castle doors and entered, the doors swung open automatically. On the other side was a long hallway lined with ornate suits of armor, each armed with finely crafted weapons. At the end of the hallway was a large oak door.

"Anyone else feeling better all of a sudden?" The Lead Priest asked his group.

"Yeah," the Lead Priestess replied. "Any idea what happened back there?"

"Well, we were told we would have to pass through a portal. I guess that counts, if anything," The Lead Priest mentioned as they approached the large oak door. "Now what?"

"Maybe we should just knock?" A priest of lower standing asked.

"Here, I'll open it," the Lead Priest said as he reached forward and began opening the door.

On the other side of the door was a large room. Every twenty feet or so, a large stone pillar rose to the ceiling some forty feet up. Along the walls of the room were several doors, and in the center of the room was a stone gazebo-like structure covered in expertly engraved runes. On the floor in the center of the structure was an ornate geometric pattern carved directly into the black granite base with small octagonal holes at certain places in the pattern. Surrounding the structure were four marble pedestals that each contained a collection of obsidian rune stones shaped to fit into the holes.

Carved into the stone walls above each of the doors were labels, probably the names of the rooms on the other side, written in a language the likes of which the cultists had most likely never seen before, let alone could read.

"Hey guys, I think I found a hallway!" One of the minor priests exclaimed as he poked his head into a small door next to the large, main doors.

"I thought I told you guys not to open shit that you don't understand?" The lead priest asked.

"Umm... because its no fun? Come on, it will beat standing around here waiting for a guide..."

The group walked down the l-shaped hallway, eventually reaching a flight of stairs.

"Good work. Lets go, shall we?"

As the cultists made their way up the stairs, they noticed a number of arrow slits in the walls. Through the slits, they could see that the walls were at least twenty feet thick and solid stone. Torches burning with odd purple flames lit the stairwell from their iron perches. On the stairs, a fine red carpeting cushioned the cult's footsteps. When they reached the next floor, they noticed that the room they were in was identical to the one below them.

One of the cultists tried one of the doors, thinking that it may lead to another hallway like the one from the large central room on the first floor. Instead, he discovered a collection of smaller rooms, almost like individual jail cells. Perhaps the most striking feature of the area on the other side of the door was the odor that nearly overwhelmed the cultists. An odor like a barnyard, but at the same time, much, much different.

"Godsdamn, this place smells like my uncle's farm," the lead priest said as he got knocked back by the smell. The group was becoming dismayed, having tried to find their way through with very little success except finding themselves more and more lost. "We'll never find the King at this rate..."

"Perhaps if your uncle's farm were within the deepest pits of the Abyss, perhaps..." echoed a voice from down one of the many branching halls. The geography of the room made discerning direction difficult, but the cultists had a general idea. Looking around as they searched for the creature that had spoken, the cultists were amazed to see dozens of creatures within the cells, the likes of which they had never seen before. Within one cell, a floating ball with a mess of eyes on long prehensile stalks with a huge central eye and gaping maw filled with sharp teeth. One of the cultists noted that he had read about such creatures before. He believed that they were known as Beholders.

In another cell, one of the cultists discovered a large dragon who's ruby scales glistened in the torchlight. Below it was piled a huge cache of golden coins and valuable jeweled objects. The next cell was home to a pair of white horses who's tails, manes, and feather were composed of violently burning flames. Further cells astonished the cultists just as much.

"If you're looking for the King, I can take you to him. He has something that belongs to me." echoed the voice once again. It was vile, almost serpentine and dripping with an evil that shook the cultists visibly. After that, the cultists made their way to the cell in the geographic center of the floor, seemingly lead by instinct. What they found was a horror with large dragonlike wings and pitch black scales that reflected hints of red and purple. It stood almost sixteen feet tall and stared down at the cultists with it's burning red eyes. It was quite simply the most horrifying thing they had ever seen. Surrounding the fiend was a series of sealing circles, each covered in ornate runes and glowing an assortment of colors. Black metal chains linked the floor to manacles bolted around the abomination's wrists, ankles, neck, and waist. It would seem that someone wanted to make damned sure that whatever it was did not escape.

"Free me from these bindings and I will take you right to that fool that calls himself a king!"

"Hmm..." the lead cultist said as he looked at all the bindings. "Well, unless we want to spend all of eternity wandering around this place, I guess it might be ok..." He motioned to his party to cut the bindings and do everything necessary to free the monstrosity.

A sickeningly hideous cackle echoed through the castle as the cultists removed the bolts holding the manacles to the creature and smashed runes carved into the floor under the instruction of the abomination. Each rune that was shattered gave off a bright flash, a stream of smoke, and crackles of magical energy suddenly freed. The creature reared up and spread its wings wide, the heavy chains falling from its limbs and cracking stones in the floor. The beast threw its head back and let out a mighty roar that foretold doom for all who crossed it.

"You have upheld your end of the deal, now I will uphold mine. I will warn you once, however. Get in my way and I will kill you."

As promised, the horrid creature lead the cultists down a series of passageways and up several flights of stairs before reaching a pair of huge oak doors that felt as hard as iron. The ornate carvings and valuable metals that graced the fittings were unlike anything that they had seen within the castle so far. The cultists could only guess that this was the throne room.

The two guards at the door were clearly surprised at the sight of the creature and the cultists, but they did not have time to voice it. Without warning or mercy, the creature grabbed each guard's head with its large clawed hands, squeezing until they popped and shot blood and gore through its fingers. It seemed that the fine steel helmets that they had both worn were of no aid to the guards. As the slain guards slumped to the ground in a heap, the beast threw open the doors to the throne room.

Inside, at the end of the long room on a wooden throne set upon a raised area of the floor sat a bearded man with long silver hair. He wore a white tunic with navy blue trim and a navy blue cloak. In his hands was a handheld gaming system of some type. It seemed that he hadn't noticed the group entering.

"Holy shit! Yes! A shiny pidgey! I've got to catch this!" exclaimed the man, seemingly talking to himself.

The abomination that the cultists had freed was clearly not amused by the lack of attention the man was paying it. It began walking across the room towards the man, stopping momentarily to summon four large demons from the lower planes to aid it.

"You die today, Nightbane! Last time you caught me already wounded from a battle with the forces of the Hells. This time I am at full strength! You have no chance against me! Stand and die!" shouted the creature.

"Fuck off. I'm busy. Come back later and I'll help you back to your cell then." replied the man calmly, seemingly distracted by his game.

The abomination was furious at being blown off for a Gameboy. He roared and cast down a swarm of meteors on the man and his throne. Unfortunately for the beast, the fireballs fizzled out upon hitting some sort of invisible barrier around the man.

"That's it, Loviatar. Use sand attack one more time. We've got this one..." spoke the man, apparently to his game.

The creature was literally burning with rage now, and called a firestorm down upon the throne. Unfortunately, the firestorm had just as little effect as the meteor swarm. Could the cultists see the beast's face, they would see an image of pure hatred.

"Ok, ultraball, go..! One... Two... Thre-- ...!!!"

The creature stormed across the room and grabbed the game from the man's hands, casting it against the wall. The console shattered into a shower of plastic and silicon.

-My game...! You son of a bitch! You fucking son of a bitch! I had just caught a shiny pidgey! There's less than a point zero one two percent chance of even encountering a shiny per encounter, let alone catching one! I'll fucking kill you!"

The creature began laughing and lunged at the man who was now standing up, staring at the creature coldly. He calmly stepped to the side and ducked, dodging the beast's wings. The creature barreled through the wooden throne, destroying it. The man turned to face him. Though there were a sword and mace on his belt and another sword on his back, the man drew no weapons. Instead, his fists were tightly clenched. He waited for the beast to stand up and get ready, and then moved in to strike.

The man started off with a shot to the creature's gut which was blocked, and then a shot to its jaw. The shot to the jaw connected with a loud crack. The creature struck back, its own strikes blocked completely. The man countered with a kick to the knee, but was then thrown back several feet and into the waiting clutches of the four summoned demons. As the four began to stab at him with their enchanted blades, the man cackled madly.

Almost as if in response, one of the demons let out a horrible scream that was somewhat muted by the sound of its bones shattering as it imploded in a mist of blood. A few seconds later, another of the demons suffered the same fate. Then another. Finally, less than thirty seconds after the first, the last of the four demons imploded. On the ground around the man were the four swords, four whips, and a large area of floor stained red with blood. Standing back up, the man cast a simple spell that saw his clothing and body be completely cleansed of the bloody mess created by the demons. It was clear to the cultists that the beasts hadn't managed to score so much as a single hit on the man.

"Was that the best you could do? Summon a handful of balors to act as fodder? If you can't do better than that, you may not ever see your whore of a mother again." taunted the man as he drew his swords. In his right hand was a bastard sword made of slightly red tinted black metal with a wispy flame pattern etched into the blade and highlighted with mithril. In his left was shortsword made of the same material, but with a slight blue tint and a snow pattern etched on, also with mithril. Each blade burned with faint flames that matched its tint. The man tilted his head from side to side in order to pop the joints of his neck, and then rushed the creature. The creature tried to defend against the flurry of blades to little effect, deep and heavily bleeding wounds being received all over its body. It was clear to all parties that the creature would be lucky to last a minute in combat against the man. It would seem that the creature far underestimated its opponent.

"Lloth! Save me! Mother!" cried the wounded creature as it lost an arm to the bastard sword. Several fingers on both hands were missing, while the beast's torso and face were cris-crossed with deep gashes that exposed bone and innards. The beast fell to its knees and tried desperately to hold in its intestines with its remaining arm while the man stood over it, blades ready. The man was covered in blood, though the color indicated that not a drop of it was his own. After wiping the gore from his blades, the man sheathed them and removed a pendant from around his neck. It was a black disc with a purple border, seemingly made of precious stones.

"Lloth cannot save you now. You murdered hundreds of my people, killed my guards, and destroyed my Gameboy. For your crimes, I sentence you to complete and permanent death. In the name of Shar and Bryn Shander, begone from this universe!"

He placed the disc against the defeated creature's head and concentrated intently. After a few seconds, the abomination turned grey and collapsed into a pile of fine ash. Unknown to the cultists, the death did not just involve the beast's physical body. The creature's soul was also utterly destroyed, removed from existence entirely.

"Such is the fate of those who cross me. Who are you and why did you come here with that fool?" asked the man. The cultists quickly realized that he was addressing them.

"Holy shit!" a minor priest exclaimed at the end of the engagement, just prior to the question being asked by King Nightbane.

"We are representatives of the Cult of the Divine Imperator! I am Head Priest Eric Yeoman, leader of the Order of the Sword within the cult whose sole purpose is to protect the armaments of the Imperator, especially the True Sword of the Imperator. I accept full responsibility for what has transpired here, as I was under the impression that... that thing would just lead us here. If we had known it was going to kill your guards or disrupt your game, we probably would've left it to rot where it was, but seeing as we were completely lost, I felt we had to take a risk."

"That is fine and well, but you never answered the second half of my question." spoke the King as he began to gather the scattered shards of his Gameboy and reassemble them with a series of spells. As the Gameboy was repaired, Nightbane moved on to fixing his throne.

"We have come to ask you to assist us in mediating with the god of war and the god of the underworld to have our beloved Imperator resurrected!" The lead priest stated as he watched King Nightbane repair his gameboy.

"Mediating with the gods? You? Nigra please. You probably don't even know how to properly worship your gods, let alone speak with them." commented the King as he reconstructed his throne with a few simple spells. "I, however, have met with the gods personally on several occasions, yours included. I liked James, so I will begin preparations to go to Olympus immediately. Unfortunately for you, you're coming with. Take the four swords and whips laying on the ground there. You'll need them."

Four cultists picked up the four swords on the ground, and the other two picked up the whips. "What the fuck do we need these for if we're going to see the gods?" the lead cultist asked. "Surely we won't be attacked by the gods, nor do I believe these swords will actually help us if they did."

"Because, you thick fuck. The gods aren't the only things you'll be encountering. We, you, will have to fight your ways through several planes of existance to get to the realms of the gods, and the planes are full of creatures just like the ones that I just slew. I suggest that you divvy the swords out to the best fighters among you and get ready to go."

Nightbane finished rebuilding his throne as he finished explaining the upcoming quest to the cultists. Almost immediately, he cast a number of other minor spells to remove the blood stains and scorch marks that resulted from the battle.

"But why do we have to risk it? Surely you're more than capable of the task on your own, your majesty." questioned one of the cultists.

"Because if you are going to make a request such as mediating with the gods that you claim to worship, I expect that you actually learn of your gods first hand. Only a fool would worship something based on a four thousand year old story without doing their own research." answered the King, seemingly unconcerned with the cultist's lack of faith.

"But..."

"If you continue to question me, I will send you to meet Newman the hard way. Follow me."


The King lead the six cultists through the castle, taking several secret passages to make the journey shorter. Eventually, they came upon the first room that the cultists had entered. The odd structure in the center seemed to be their destination. Nightbane went around the structure, picking out a number of seemingly random rune stones from the pedestals surrounding it. After gathering the stones that he wanted, he walked onto the structure and began inserting the stones into their sockets. When finished, he snapped his fingers amd a small silver rod appeared in his hand instantly. He inserted the rod into a just as small hole in the center of the dias, and the geometric pattern lit up, glowing a bright white.

"Get up here. All of you." called the King.

The cultists didn't argue. When they had all found a place on the dias, Nightbane spoke a command word. In a flash, the King and the six cultists were gone.

Just as quickly as they vanished from the castle, the party appeared in a dense forest.

"We're here."

"This might be a really stupid question, but where might here be, exactly?" The lead cultist said as the others suveyed the landscape. They all held their swords tightly, unaware of what to expect at this point.

"Man, what the fuck did we get ourselves into?"

"Where? Yes, I suppose that would be a good question. Allow me to demonstrate..." stated the King as he produced a number of razor sharp obsidian rings. Throwing them one by one, they each seemed to reproduce themselves in flight. One by one, they cut through dozens of trees, felling them with a series of loud crashes before the four original rings reappeared in the King's hands. With a snap of his fingers, Nightbane willed the rings to return to their extradimensional pocket. In a small flash and puff of smoke, the chakram obeyed.

Where the once mighty trees had stood, there was now an open corridor littered with ancient wood and revealing the group's destination. A seemingly impossibly tall mountain that seemed to stretch forever into the heavens.

"So, can anyone manage to scrounge around in their empty little minds and tell me what that mountain is?"

"Isn't that Mount Lyaethos from the northern continent of Stanley?" One of the cultists asked. The lead cultist unclasped his Falcata from his belt, and without removing the sword from the scabbard, proceeded to beat the dumb cultist with it.

"Why... do... you... have... to... be... so... GODS... DAMN... STUPID!" The lead cultist yelled as he pummled the idiot. "You should know that mountain is Mount Olympus!" With that, the lead cultist punched the man in the face, bloodying his nose and leaving him laid out on the ground. The lead cultist wiped the blood from his hands and from his scabbard before turning to King Nightbane. "Just don't leave me here by myself, otherwise its just me and the damn tourists."

"Aww, go fuck yourself!" the lead priestess called back.

"Get back in the kitchen and make me a sandwich!" The lead cultist yelled back. "Otherwise, grab your gear, lets move out..."

As the lead cultist began beating and belittling his comrades, Nightbane sighed and held his forehead as though in pain or deep thought. Without a word, he placed his hand on the cultist. A flood of numbingly cold negetive energy rushed into the cultist, who fell to his knees in weakness.

"Do you honestly think that you can best the mountain of your gods if you can't even get along with your allies?"

Not waiting for a response, the Bryn Shanderan King placed his other hand on the cultist had been beaten. Like with the lead cultist, a flood of cold energy rushed into the man. Unlike with the lead cultist, the energy was positive, healing the man with a soothing numbness.

"I'm not sure that you deserve my aid in ressurecting James. I think that you'll have to prove yourselves worthy. You are to work together to reach the top of Olympus alone. I shall meet you there if you make it."

The cultists stared blankly as Nightbane sat down on a fallen tree and began reading a book that had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

"Alright, pick that son of a bitch up and lets go," the lead priestess said as the six cultists made their way across the leveled forest towards Mount Olympus. At the base of the mountain, they began climbing the best they could towards the summit, especially carrying the 200 pound dead weight of the Lead Priest along with them as they scaled the steep cliffs.

For days they struggled up the steep terrain as their comrade failed to recover in the slightest, remaining lethargic and unable to move or speak as he was hoisted along like a sack filled with shit. On the fifth day, they finally reached the peak of Mount Olympus, rolling the body of the lead priest up first while the rest of them followed. Each priest and priestess was completely exhausted upon arriving and could barely get to their feet (sans the Lead Priest, who was still completely incapacitated).

Meanwhile, Nightbane had simply teleported to the top of the mountain and was busy enjoying the company of the Olympian deities. He'd gotten hammered with Dionysus, then hammered out a few spears, blades, helms, and shields with Hephaestus, and followed up by hammering Aphrodite like a jackhammer. Shortly after, he won a game of strip poker against Nike and celebrated his victory for forty minutes afterward before a triumphant finish. His conquests continued as he knocked Artemis' arrow and planted his seed in Demeter's field. Over the course of the five days that he'd been at the top of the mountain, Nightbane had conquered four of the Olympian goddesses and remained relatively smashed the entire time. It was revelry indeed, and reminded him why he'd stayed with the Olympians so frequently in the past.

When the cultists arrived he was still buzzed, and was quite surprised to see them.

"Oh, you're shtill alive?" he asked. Silence and cold glares were the only responses.

"W-well then, let me introdushe my good friend Dionyshush. I shuggest having a few d-drinksh before relaxing. I'll need to s-sober up a bit for a bit."

Again, the response was only silence. Nightbane downed another goblet of wine and then took a sack off of his back.

"Oh, I almosht forgot. I made you some toysh. There should be one for each of you."

Crouching down, he produced a set of a kopis, a spear, a corinthian helm and a large round shield for each of the cultists. The blades were finely honed and imbued with divine magic that kept them unnaturally sharp and aided in their ability to cut and stab. The shields and helms were light but extraordinarily strong, more than capable of fending off the most powerful blows the cultists could manage.

Finally, Nightbane looked with disgust at the lead cultist.

"Get up, you little pussy. If you can barely survive what I did to you, what makes you think that you can survive in Hades? I'll slay you myself if you aren't up and in fighting condition by the time we're ready to leave."

"Technically, we should've killed him by now," the lead Priestess noted as she gathered her gear. "Its against our code to allow a member to be this incapacitated for this long."

"Yeah... I wouldn't mind slitting his throat myself after that beating he gave me," one of the minor priests said as he adjusted his helm. "Hey, this isn't fitted properly!" As soon as he finished, the helm magically fit to his head, forming a sudden and frightenly snug connection to his head. "Oh shit, get it off! GET IT OFF!"

"Idiot..." The lead priestess said under her breath as she wandered over to the lead cultist. "Get up or I'll cut your throat... you got until the count of three... one... tw..." At that moment, the lead priest rolled over, threw up and proceeded to get to his feet, grabbing the spear meant for him and trying to balance himself on it.

"Man that sucked..." he said just before he threw up again.

"Fucking pussy," the lead priestess said. "I got more balls that you!"

"You've got what?" questioned Nightbane as he eyed the priestess. "You've got balls?"

The Bryn Shanderan king absorbed the priestess' admission for a few seconds before looking visibly sick.

"Lady Sirithil, no! Get out of my head!" is all he managed to shout before turning his head and vomiting violently all over the grass. Perhaps it was the week of binge drinking with Dionysus, perhaps it was the mental image, perhaps it was a combination of the two, but Nightbane coughed up some excess bile, falling to his hands and knees and vomiting again. It was hardly the most dignified position for a king, especially one with nigh divine levels of power, but part of a divine party is a divine hangover.

A bit more vomiting, a bath, and a day of sleeping later and he was once again awake and in peak condition. After rolling out of Tyche's bed and getting dressed, armor and weaponry included, Nightbane went out to track down the cultists.

"I hope that you kids are enjoying your new toys, because your lives will depend on them. Before we leave, however, I need to enlist some help for when we reach Hades." said the King as soon as he found them.

"Hades? HADES?!" One of the minor cultists asked. "How the fuck do you expect us to survive in there! Hercules himself had to go through a rite in order to survive... need I go further?"

"Thats not even the fucking point," The lead cultist replied. "Nightbane is going to beat the shit out of ARES! Do you fucking realize what that means?"

"That our nation's patron God is no match for the leader of our ally's nation?" The lead priestess asked.

"You're damn fucking right!" The Lead Cultist yelled back as the party started to get underway. "If our gods are that fragile compared to King Nightbane, why the fuck are we worshipping them in the first place?!"

"Now I'm going to tell you to shut the fuck up," The Lead Priestess replies. "Its best not to talk about the gods when you're walking through their turf." The lead priest shut up as the group continued onward.