by DarthKrzysztof

Night had fallen, bringing a sharp chill to the air. Joris freed himself from his elven chain, folded it neatly, and placed it next to his boots before turning back to his bedroll, which rested a short distance from the campfire. Kalisa had already climbed inside, facing away from him, wearing the wingless “Raven” guise in which he’d first met her.

The bedroll was a tight squeeze for two. Joris had both legs in before he realized that Kalisa was naked. Trying not to lean on her hair, he wiggled in next to her, propping his head up with one hand and moving the other to Kalisa’s stomach, smooth and hot to the touch. The bedroll’s magic kept the cold at bay.

“I’m sorry,” Joris eventually said, “for invoking you by your truename. I didn’t know what else to do. Arviragus got the drop on me.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Kalisa replied. “It’s I who should apologize, for taking as long as I did to reach you. I used the only portal to Faerûn I knew, then I crossed half this world to find you.”

“Really? Where did the portal take you?”

“A port city, somewhere. What was it called… something like skull? Skuld, I think.”

“Skuld? You came here all the way from Mulhorand?!”

With some effort, Kalisa rolled onto her back so she could look up into Joris’s face, giving him the impression that she was gazing directly at his soul. “For you, my love, I would cross Nessus itself.”

She had never looked at him like that before. “Kalisa? Are you all right?”

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(WARNING: Not Safe For Work. Adults Only)

by DarthKrzysztof

Jazra watched Hexla and her friends file through the portal, realizing a moment too late that Fritzan Ringhammer had come close enough to thrust his stubby finger inches from her nose.

“I know you think you’re clever,” growled the dwarf, “but I’ll see you given the rope someday, mark me.”

Jazra couldn’t breathe, let alone respond. She knew that Ringhammer was just a tin-plated leatherhead, she knew it, but why couldn’t she stand up to him? Was she really that worried about being arrested? Was it because he’d been dogging her steps since she was a child? Or was it just because he hated her so much?

“Leave her alone,” came a man’s voice. She saw the drow – Xillian, was it? – approaching them.

“And just who do you think you are,” said Fritzan, “to order a Harmonium officer around?”

Xillian drew very close to Fritzan, stepping between the dwarf and Jazra. The drow’s rapier and hand crossbow still lay on the ground behind him, but he showed no signs of backing down. “I’m Xillian. And I’m not ordering you to do anything. I’m advising you to leave her alone.”

Oh, Xillian, don’t be addle-coved, thought Jazra. You’re just gonna make him mad…

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by zero

Kalenthor Naïlo was hunting a thief. The moon elf smirked at the thought. “Hunting” was kind of a misnomer, he thought as he wandered the bleak, rolling hills dotted by the occasional stone tor or rocky outcropping known as the Evermoors. A man by the name of Arviragus, a sorcerer of some renown in Silverymoon, had apparently gone rogue and stolen an enchanted helm from the church of Mystra. Prestin Crownsilver, the local high priest of the Lady of Mysteries had demanded that the man be brought back or at the very least the magical helm be recovered. Arviragus had last been seen fleeing in the direction of the troll-infested Evermoors. Kalenthor, in between projects, had shrugged, picked up a scroll of dimensional anchor to make capturing the man somewhat easier, and blithely strolled off in the direction. Ordinarily, he would have tried scrying first, but his mirror had been destroyed by a dragon in Myth Drannor, a time he did not enjoy recalling. As such, rumor would have to suffice.

The wizard was in the vicinity of a distinctive tor known as the Old Man, when he noticed a pair of figures in the distance headed in the general direction of what appeared to be a ruined fort. Curious, Kalenthor had uttered an incantation to render himself invisible, and proceeded to follow the figures. As he drew closer, he saw that one of the figures was actually not walking – it was floating. The moon elf squinted in the early morning light, trying to get a better look, and he could tell that the floating figure was actually a statue resting upon a Tenser’s floating disk. The other figure was looking around very anxiously, a scrawny human with a silver-streaked black beard – Arviragus.

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by DarthKrzysztof

Yolette had closed the front door behind her before she saw the unfamiliar woman in Haden’s chair, legs curled up beneath her, a book in her lap. The stranger had time to say “Hello, Yolette” before the girl jumped.

“Who are you?!” Yolette demanded, trying to sound as imposing as Sheen would have, but falling far short of the mark. Are those her boots next to the door? Yolette wondered. She made herself right at home?!

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(image by Tony DiTerlizzi, from Planescape Monstrous Compendium Appendix II)

“Demonweb Pits?” Joris asked, perplexed.

“What exactly does that mean?” Talan added. “Then again, maybe I don’t want you to tell me.”

“It’s the 66th layer of the Abyss, the domain of Lolth,” Haden said.

“66th?” Sheen asked. “How many layers of the Abyss are there?”

“No one knows,” Haden said. “It’s not called the Infinite Layers for nothing. There are as many layers as there are types of evil.”

“The Guvners stopped counting around seven hundred,” Hexla explained.

“If Tulio is here, he’s probably in trouble,” Sheen said grimly. They walked down a sticky tunnel that seemed to have been spun out of layer upon layer of thick webbing. The floor was vaguely tacky and stuck to their boots as they walked. Talan crouched and began examining the webs, gently nudging aside countless tiny spiders that seemed to inhabit them. He began to walk, slowly, the others following. A faint light from somewhere deep within the webbing illuminated the tunnel vaguely. Then it darkened abruptly as a large shape moved above them and vanished into the distance.

“So. Spiders.” Joris said quietly.

“Again,” Talan added.

“Big spiders,” Haden muttered. Sheen groped for his hand and he held on to her tightly. The tunnel soon opened into a vast chamber studded with immense crystal shards that gave it an almost subterranean character. A tower of purple crystal loomed over the path, emitting a low, eerie hum.

“Well, there’s our Crystal Tower,” Haden said. They climbed the short path to the base of the tower. Sheen scratched at the crystal, finding the faint outline of a door with the tips of her claws. She searched, but could not find a mechanism or other device for opening the door.

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