A Familiar Queue

Laniss looked out over the line, winding it's way across the flat barren plain toward the tower.It was remarkable how much could change in a day, and yet remain the same for millennia . The endless dead were waiting impatiently, slowly marching toward their meeting with the lady of death and fate while various shadowy entities walked up and down the crowd, striking dark deals with those desperate or fearful enough to risk an eternity of damnation.

A shadowy figure nearby quickly captured Laniss's attention. He appeared at first to be an elf, but at every glance he was slightly different; a living construct, a dwarf in a crafter's apron, an elderly human woman. And yet you would swear up and down that nothing at all had changed. At once extremely familiar and entirely unknown, all Laniss was sure of was that this was no simple soul waiting for judgment.

"You appear to be making something of a habit of this. I'm not sure that is wise" the stranger spoke with a voice like the motion of the continents.

"It is true that a number of miscalculations were made."

"More than you know Headmaster. You have begun to see the true path, but you will need more help. You must set aside the distractions and prepare."

Laniss frowned as he attempted to decipher the stranger's words. "Headmaster? I think you may have me confused with someone else."

"My apologies, I sometimes forget when we are." The young theori started off into the distance, clearly distracted "Think on my words. Finish what you started, because It has what you seek. Stop dying." With that, he turned and quickly vanished into crowd.

*   *   *

"...So with that, I feel it is time for me to tender my resignation from The Great Downward Engineering Company, and to officially petition for the land around the western rise be deeded to me for the purposes of construction of an arcane college in exchange for access to increased magical and scholarly resources as well as guaranteed tax revenue not less than....."

The trick that became not a trick

I knew tricking people was a good idea, I seen how everyone does it so well since I started thinkin bout it.  Mortimer has a really good trick where he pretens to have one a those 'honourable' fights with someone but then uses a spell to come back when dey think they killed him and is all like "Bam!  You thought you killed me but really I win!". Lots of other people have good tricks too.

Other day I did a good trick on some Orcus people.  I made maself look like one o them and then kept telling them what they were doing made Orcus angry while we were fighting.  They got all confused, I think they worried Orcus would get angry at them.  And instead o attacking me they attacked other people, so all worked out really good.  I decided then that I gonna try to trick Orcus people like that more.

I had all these good ideas about how to do it.  I could stop hiding my demon arm, and use my demon powers more (though that went stupid before cause Laniss is an idiot and gave me some cured ring - but should work better next time) and lots of stuff.  Pretending to be a priest a Orcus would be really cool, I would tell all the other Orcus people wrong stuff about Orcus and they'd stop being such idiots all the time and maybe Orcus would stop giving them powers.

Then I realised something.  Mortimer seems to be mayor now that Shades is dead (though I think he's still flying around haunting us, but I don't think ghosts are allowed to be mayors) or at least is half mayor along with Frey or summing.  It took me a while to realise why he got to be mayor but I figure its cause he killed Zehn, who had killed Shades and you get the position of people you kill. Gwetting to be mayor is a kind of promise that you can get through killing someone. Not sure who Shades killed to become mayor in the first place, but they probably deserved it.

But that made me realise.  I don't need to trick people to think I'm a priest o Orcus - I destroyed the high priest Nadger, so I REALLY AM A PRIEST - THE HIGH PRIEST IN FACT! His power went inta me and everything.

So now I'll tell all the Orcus people wrong stuff about Orcus, and they'll have ta listen, cause i'm the motherfucking high priest!

Birds of a Feathyr

For a moment that was both brief and excruciatingly drawn out, Shades’ entire existence was nothing but terror, fire and blinding pain.

The Tengu promptly found himself in the extensive line of the dead leading into Pharasma’s Tower. The great Tower itself loomed impossibly high above. Some travellers in the afterlife see a certain magnificence and even awe about the Tower, but not Shades. To him it waited with a passive menace, like a smug dragon waiting to receive its helpless princess tribute.

Slowly the line shuffled forward, ever closer to the Tower. Shades was both relieved to see none of his fellow Engineers join the line, but also a touch disappointed. The company would have been appreciated, especially when he swore he could see the offending Orcusites some distance behind.

The realization that his mortal body would be irrecoverable from a pool of blazing lava didn’t come for some time later. Shades had never been the type for existential dread, having lived mostly in the moment for much of his life. With all the words of all the languages he had picked up in his life, he could not find one that described the depth of the following panic. The Wall of the Faithless was suddenly a very real possibility on the horizon. Literally- it was far off but it was still right fucking there.

For innumerable hours Shades woefully ruminated on his Prime Material life. His friends, his family that had once been, the people he had taken under his wing. And that itchy feather that had taken longer than a week to properly grow out of the small of his back. He had fought so hard to keep what very little random chance had given him, and to share what he could with those less fortunate than him. And here he was, standing in a queue hiding from the eyes of slain foes, soon destined to be another gibbering voice in a choir of gibbering voices for as long as existence existed.

“You!” A raspy sounding human voice broke Shades’ tumbling existential spell. Shades tried to cram a lid on his frothing existential terrors, and stared at the voice’s source. He was an old human, and very chipper for someone strolling about the Plane of the Dead. Curiously, he was not in the line at all.

“You there,” the old gent waved, “I don’t want to sound, well, rude at all, but I think I just spoke with some colleagues of yours. One of them was a bird you see. A bird man. Woman, actually I think. It’s hard to really tell. ...Oh dear, I am so sorry.”
“Just fuckin’ great,” Shades rolled his eyes. Apparently in Pharasma’s domain, where all souls from all the planes came together in a great queue into a gargantuan tower made of bone, being a humanoid shaped bird was still weird for people.
“Are you the head of the Great Downward Engineering Company?” the old man bleated, clearly a little upset with himself and his faux pas.
“Fuckin’ frog’s ass on a stick keep your yappin’ down!” Shades squawked and dragged the man into line with him, keeping both their heads low, “Who the nine Hells is askin’?”
“Bofred,” the geriatric stuck out a gnarled hand, “Bofred Aerim.”
“Well I never, it’s another Aerim. Who’s it this time, Illden’s long lost human grandpappy?”
“Uh, yes, actually. You have met my dear Illy Illden? She doesn’t have the frog spots still, does she?” 

Shades vomited a giggle or two. That wasn’t entirely information he needed to know about Illden, but the humour was hugely welcome. For some time Bofred and Shades engage in small talk. Bofred shares some of the more hilarious pranks he pulled on his Orcusite captors. Shades avidly recounts his adventures with the Great Downward, the trials, the terrors, and the pride he felt in taking a shitty crumbling old castle he had inherited seemingly by accident, and shaping it into tiny dysfunctional town of misfits, refugees and expats. The process is cathartic at first, but by the end the young Tengu is woefully upset. A Tengu doesn’t have the proper glands to cry, but when he blurts out his soon-to-be fate amongst the Wall of the Faithless he has made a fine attempt to do so.

“Oh, oh I see. Well. That can’t do. No, that can’t do at all,” Bofred frowned.
“The opinion is appreciated but that ain’t goin’ to change a fuckin’ thing,” Shades croaked.
“Well, that’s just the thing, Pezzack. I’m quite certain I can. The circumstances are admittedly dreadful, but...” Bofred brought his voice down to the faintest whisper, “I’m kind of a god now, you see.”

Shades lept to his feet and skittered in surprise, certainly not expecting that piece of information at all. Bofred’s eyes glazed a little, as if peering far into a misty horizon. His brow ticked, and one of his withered hands were clenched. His form drooped with a heavy weight that should not have existed on this immaterial plane.

“As the priests and their vows of poverty were the backbone of old Mitra’s worship, and the paladins were Muir’s...the goodly kings and queens of old where the strength and pride of Thyr. Thyr the God of Kings! For the greatest good for the greatest number He shall rule!”

“When Severin Aerim... when Severin... when Tsar fell to Orcus’ forces, well the whole spine fell out of the skeleton, didn’t it?! No one wanted anything to do with Thyr. Not if one could fall so hard and hurt so many. Lies, of course, lies, they have to be! Even so, they didn’t stop Thyr from fading so. I spent my life trying to clear Severin Aerim’s name. I spent my life trying to clear Thyr’s name. I could have saved a lot of people. I could have saved Thyr!”

By this point Shades was feeling no small measure of fear. Bofred was clearly desperately mad or madly desperate. And still quite possibly a god.

“I...I’m sorry to hear that,” the normally talkative Tengu gulped.
“Oh. Oh dear. Yes,” Bofred sighed, his trembling subsiding a little, “Sorry, Sir Highroost, I seem to have frighten-”
“It’s Shades, okay. Sir Highroost is so damn gaudy I could hurl.”
“I’m sorry Sir Shades. I’m not used to being a god, you see. Not that I’m going to last very long as a god, not having a church and all. Or a royal line to oversee the people of the Valley. Or any sort of myths or stories to wow the people. I’ll just be sitting on Thyr’s cold dusty throne. In the quiet, all alone, until Thyr fades or I do. Did I mention how lonely it is going to be?!”

“I’d happily trade you my place on that crazed wall for a spot o’ loneliness and quiet, it seems awful lively there.”
“Ah, yes. Yes. That’s right, that pesky Wall. How about this Pezza-"
“Shades.”
“How about this Shades? I’ll give you back to the Prime Material. I haven’t divinely intervened before, so it might take a little practice, but there’s no point being a god if you can’t do that is there now?! Haha!” 
“Alrigh’, you have my ears, grandpappy Aerim. But I’m guessin’ this ain’t really a free deal now, is it?”

“Yes. I can’t just go spending divine energy willy-nilly on every poor mortal with a sob story now can I? I want you to clear Severin Aerim’s name, or to do your best. I also want you to take my divine favour. This line of the dead here is fresh out of goodly kings and queens, but as the non-evil Mayor of that lovely new Dejune town you told me about -a Mayor with the right to a Lordship even!- who says he’s a good friend of my dear granddaughter... well you are the best and only candidate for a chosen I have. And I can’t have you spilling blood with swords or that frightening tinderbox cannon you said you had, Thyr would absolutely die. And then so would I. But it’s okay, I can make you a new body that’s better at different things. A Tengu body of course, I wouldn’t want this to be weird for you. Just.. don’t kill people when you don’t have to, and take care of your people, you hear? Oh and give Orcus a right kick up the arse, I would really enjoy that. I haven’t quite got a doctrine yet, but I can certainly keep you posted on the details.”

Shades glimpsed a look over at the distant yet definitely closer Wall of the Faithless, and looked back at Bofred. It’s not like he had any other choice.

“If a god’s gonna drop from the sky to pick a dead bird back up, well damn I ain’t gonna look his gift horse in the mouth. …You have yourself a deal, Bofred.”
“Marvelous! Say hello to my Illy Illden will you? But don’t tell her I told you about the frog spots, that would be ghastly.”

Shades didn’t have the time to word his agreement to do so. He was somewhere in a forest, possibly near Dejune from the looks of it, and had found himself in the peculiar position of not quite having a body yet.

Mortimer - On Arms and Armour

Mortimer leaves the forge after a week of hard labour, Tabitha trailing behind him. He is covered in soot and smoke and smells like an Orc but he clearly looks pleased. He is cradling his scythe in his arms, almost like a proud father.

It looks almost the same as usual, but is missing the Telephos paraphernalia. Instead, the blade has a simple design on it and some words etched into the metal. You figure it's in Orcish

He trots to Talisas workspace, not bothering to bathe or change.

"Talisaaaa"
Mortimer puts on his best puppy dog face, which in this case looks like a puppy dog trying to decide if it wants to vomit or fart. Lets humour him and call it cute.
"Talisssssaaaaaaa!"

Talisas frown could strip paint off wood
"What? What do you wa-"

Mortimer interrupts her by abruptly whipping his scythe around, presenting Talisa with the handle
"Make this maaaagic, Talisssaaaaaa~"

Talisa is clearly busy, and views this olfactory assault with displeasure.
"I have work to do, I don't have time to-"

Mort cuts her off
"Maaaaagic! I have money, I know that helpssssss"

Talisa probably decides that just nodding and agreeing is the fastest way to get rid of the smell
"Fine, put it over there. I'll do it whe-"

"You need to whisper its name to it allll the time when you make it, Talisssaaaaa"
He clearly enjoys saying her name

Talisa waves a hand dismissively
"What? Yes, sure, whatev-"

"It is called 'Mothers Kissssss'. It needs to be born knowing its name, Talisssaaaaaa"

Talisa gives Mortimer her full attention for the first time
"What sort of idiotic na-"

Mort cuts her off again. His jovial tone has disappeared.
"It will be called 'Mothers Kiss' because it makes the bad things go away. Do this for me"

If Talisa responds, Mortimers back doesn't hear it


--------------------------------------------------------------------------


On the morning of the start of their journey to Tsar, Mortimer comes down stairs dressed for the first time in his newly modified plate.

Gone are the gentle curves and smooth edges. Instead, it has lots of flat surfaces and squared off edges, the whole suit having a sort of blocky, harsh look. It is a strange mix of crude and brutish, but still somehow savagely noble

On his front is the engraving of Shades' emblem, that of a profile of a crow, but stylised in a way that seems more Orcish. Its eye, over-large and right in the middle of Mortimers chest, looks to be inlayed with a holy symbol. Its a blue circle in which is a golden pentagon with 5 golden triangles spaced off each of the flat sides. It seems to represent the Sun.

On his shoulders and elbows, you can see sockets. The suit seems to be unfinished, and you figure he'll fit armour spikes at some later point.

As he walks away, you see runes and symbols carved into his backplate. They don't seem to invoke any actual power, more just an eclectic mix of symbols of a religious and planar nature representing strength and protection. You think Tabitha probably provided the symbols, but didn't have much say when it came to their arrangement.

Across the small of his back you see, in Orcish, the words "Mothers Embrace"

The overall effect, while not conventional, is pretty obvious to anyone who knows anything about religion, armour smithing or history

Here stands a Hellknight

Mortimers serious face.

Late in the afternoon, a slightly harried looking Tabitha roams the castle, collecting Frey and the remaining members of the Great Downwards Engineering Company. As a group, she leads you to the dining hall.

You find Mortimer waiting inside, standing at the head of the table. He is leaning forward, his fists pressed against the timber, head bowed. Pieces of adamantite plate lie scattered across the floor and his scythe is embedded in the wall at a strange angle. His powerful frame is covered in little nicks and scratches and he smells strongly of smoke. It almost looks like he's been caught in an explosion of some sort. Considering he said he was only going to town a few hours back, you have no idea where trouble found him.

As you enter, he straightens and looks at you. Gone is his usual easy laugh and playful nature. Instead, his lips are pressed tight and his eyes betray both grief and a focused rage.

"Sit. Now is the time for listening. Questions come after."

Tabitha makes her way around the table and leans in the corner of the room opposite the door. She glares at you until you settle down.

Mortimer’s eyes unfocus for a moment or two. You can see him trying to gather his composure.

"I have played my cards close to my chest recently. I have been secretive and closed mouthed. This wasn't because of distrust. Nor was I attempting to deceive you. A soldiers first rule of war is 'Surprise is King'. A fist in the kidneys is better than a fist in the face after all. To that end, I have been gathering my strength and gaining allies as quietly as I could. I had intended to let Orcus underestimate us, and make him bleed for his mistake. I fear I have instead possibly underestimated him"

Mortimer stops to gather his thoughts, rubbing absent-mindedly at a gash on his forearm.

"Today, two things of import happened.

Firstly, I travelled to the Heavens and reaffirmed vows I took secretly a long while ago. In short, I have taken an Archon known as Balthazar as my Patron. In his name, I will start an Order. This Order will have two objectives. Firstly, it is going to be dedicated to the reclaiming of this land from the bandits, the goblins, the undead, and any other dirty little creature that wishes us harm. It will also be dedicated to the destruction of Rappan Athuk. I am going to bathe this land in blood, and from that fertilised soil civilisation will grow."

"Secondly, I have troubling news. I traded the Mantle of Faith to my Patron for the return of Shades. I don't understand the process they used to try to bring him back, but it involved some sort of construction artefact. I watched as they tried to revive him. They spun him a new body. I could see him hanging there in the air. All that was left to happen was for his spirit to rejoin it."

He rubs the heel of his hand into his eye tiredly

"Instead, the artefact exploded. Shards of it flew everywhere, injuring many. The fabricated body was utterly destroyed. Noone could tell me why that happened, but from the questions they were asking I think it was the rejoining process that caused the destruction. Whether Shades' spirit is lost to us because of where he died, or whether it is because Orcus intervened as revenge for the destruction of the temple, I don't know. All that is clear is that Shades might be beyond our reach"

Mortimer slowly levers himself down into the chair. Tabitha comes up behind him and softly, almost tenderly, starts working her magics on his wounds.

"If you have questions, now is the time to ask. Except you Laniss. I might be able to deal with your questions tomorrow"

-------------------------

tldr; Mort has an Archon as a patron. Mort traded the mantle to his patron for a true rez for Shades. The rez didn't work, probably because Orcus is a dick.