Apostles of Doom

The aerie itself was a large domed rotunda, the roof formed by a series of large curved glass panes between each of the dome’s curving support columns. Beyond the glass was a truly magnificent view of the night sky. The aerie was located in a region of Nysegard where it was currently night, unlike Abancia, from which they’d come. Of course, being undead, the Storm Lords were nocturnal by nature. Fierdlight did not bother them; unlike vampires, it was simply that they preferred the coolness of the dark.

Hmm, he thought, I should have brought Morthador. This place was so dark and dank, the greater shadow would have felt right at home and no one would have noticed him. If things went badly, he could have fought soul-draining darkness with soul-draining darkness. Damn. Exador silently cursed himself while not allowing his normal, naturally displeased facial expression to betray his inner thoughts.

The thirteen Arch-Storm Lords, or whatever these council members called themselves, were arrayed on a raised dais around the back third of the rotunda. The dais was fronted on the outside by a seamless raised wall, behind which the thirteen Arch-Storm Lords sat on identical decaying thrones, in all resembling a court or tribunal, Exador supposed.

Naturally the lighting was abysmal — meaning poor, not red like in the Abyss. This served to highlight the disturbing embers glowing in the eye sockets of the liches. Theater, Exador silently snorted. These poor fools were amateurs at courtly theater compared to the full pomp of the Court of Princes when it was in session.

Exador and Ramses stopped at the obvious focal point of the chamber, a short circular podium in the center of the room with a lectern to speak from. Clearly a courtroom setting; that was now confirmed. Exador stepped up onto the podium, Ramses following. Exador moved to the lectern and bowed in acknowledgement to the Arch-Storm Lords.

“Exador,” hissed Praelgeis, the self-titled “Lord of the Night” and head of this council. Exador had met with him on numerous occasions.

“My Lord Praelgeis, may I present my colleague, Ramses the Damned,” Exador said, gesturing towards Ramses, who was in human form and wearing his Time Warrior regalia. There was a small hiss from the right side of the dais, but Exador ignored it.

“Ramses, your legend precedes you,” Praelgeis hissed.

Ramses nodded. “Thank you, your lordship.”

“It was not a compliment,” came a sharp hiss from two seats left of Praelgeis. Exador recognized Baba Smert', a hideous old — Exador didn’t know a word sufficient to describe her.

Ramses smirked at the old bag of bones. “Then I am even more grateful.” He chuckled softly.

“Enough pleasantries,” Praelgeis hissed. “We summoned you here to discuss the information you provided us.”

Exador suppressed a grimace of annoyance at the lich’s use of the word “summoned”; they both knew the lich meant it as an intentional slight against him. “Yes, my information,” he said, twisting his head slightly in puzzlement. “Was it incorrect? Did not the Nimbus leave the Grove even as I said it would?”

“Yes, but you neglected to inform us of its reinforcements,” Baba Smert' hissed.

“Reinforcements?” Exador asked, truly puzzled. “I know of no reinforcements. I don’t believe they’ve upgraded their ships for over a decade, if not more.”

“Mortal reinforcements,” Daerth Tromlane hissed from the right. “Very powerful reinforcements.”

Exador shook his head. “As far as I know, they would only have their standard contingent and some passengers they were trying to ferry out of Freehold to avoid the Rod of Tiernon and the Oorstemothian Sky Fleet. None of whom I would consider a serious threat.”

“Oh, really?” Baba Smert' snarled. “Show them the scrying we made of the encounter.”

Within a few moments a scrying, most likely a balling, appeared between the dais and the podium, and they were able to watch the encounter. The Storm Lords were able to rapidly close on the cloudship and get off a number of good, damaging blasts before the carpets scrambled.

Exador shrugged. He wasn’t that familiar with Grove cloudship tactics, but it looked pretty routine, and given the number of Storm Lords and ice dragons, it looked like the cloudship would soon be taken. He could not imagine how the liches had been defeated.

“There,” Baba Smert' hissed. She pointed towards what appeared to be a robed man walking — not flying but walking — in the air towards an ice dragon and its rider. The scrying zoomed in on this man and his opponent. Exador blinked, recognizing one of Lenamare’s lackeys, Elrose, a master of enchantment and sorcery. It was not clear to Exador what the Natooran wizard would be able to do. One didn’t seriously consider enchanters or sorcerers when talking combat magic.