Aquor Von Canto is dead
The pain through his chest lasted for but a moment, and then...silence. While he had been heavily injured before, this time was entirely different. Unusually it was just pain, unconsciousness, followed by a groggy return to more pain, this time it was just....silence. Thoughts ran through Aquors brain. Perhaps the wound had be cauterised, or magically healed, somehow? Perhaps he was to be taken as a prisoner....or perhaps Pepehel had come to rescue him. Only silence answered him. Aquor tried to open his mouth to yell for help, but, perhaps to his surprise, his mouth did not respond to his tugs. Another...deeper thought crossed his mind. Was he dead? He could not open his eyes, and his breathing become more and more shadow. Aquor tried to hold himself together, to try and regulate his worries to the tune of his breaths....but even they slowed and stopped. Aquor attempted to move his arms, as his breathing suddenly slowed to a stop. He felt like he was suddenly drowning...a child caught without air...a feeling he had not felt in many years. Pain seared through his body in search of breath, and lit his blood on fire when it could not find any. Aquor labored harder and harder for his lungs to restart...but no muscle would respond to his practiced calls. The pain seared through his body until it hit his brain...and upon him came the sweet relief of blacking out.
It did not last long, however. To his relief, his lungs suddenly began to respond to his call, seemingly with renewed force. Aquor took in a number of sort, harsh breaths before slowly slowing down to long, labored breaths. As energy was restored to his body, he opened his eyes, and was greeted not by the ceiling of his home, nor that of a temple priest, but of purple lighting, cresting across a cloudless moonlit sky, sparked with starlight. Aquor lay on the ground, confused, for a fraction of a second, before a second later, a human appeared to suddenly materialize atop him, crashing down upon his face.
“Ach!” Cried the half-orc, who pushed the nearly-nude body off of him, with a surprising amount of newfound strength, as he rolled to the side. Aquor stood up, and looked over to where he had just been laying. In the time it had taken him to roll away and stand up, about half a dozen humans had suddenly materialised near where he had awoken, at a rate of about one a second. Aquor looked around. In front of this pile of bodies, he saw perhaps the strangest sight yet:
Rows of archons and devils, standing in perfect organization...not fighting, and stranger still, seemingly leading the packs of rapidly piling human body's (along with the odd member of another race) into several impossibly long lines. Many people, including Aquor, walked over to the seemingly stoic archons, but instead of words they were unceremoniously pushed down the almost...conveyor belt of outsiders, until each of them found themselves standing at the back of an impossibly long line, a queue of people seemingly stretching onwards over the horizon. Looking to his left and his right, Aquor saw more lines. Thousands, if not millions of people, of all different races and classes, stood in an equally uncountable number of lines, stretching as far as the eye could see in all directions.
As Aquor silently stood in the line,as many of the humans that surrounded him did, his mind attempted to make sense of his new situation. Had he been Soul-trapped? Entirely possible. That would explain the purple sky. But why the thousands of other people? This was either an illusion, or a vast, VAST soulgem. Had he simply been captured by the strange, blue-skinned woman and injected with hallucinogenic? Possibly. Then why the outsiders? ANd why was he in control of his mind?
Aquor looked down. To his surprise, rather than see his injured, old, wrinkle-laden body, he saw lush green skin, and a youthful vigor he had not felt since his time in the Red Band. This gave him a new theory...perhaps he was under some sort of mind-control...an advanced suggestion, or implant, attempting to get at his earliest memories. Aquor closed his eyes, and began to focus on driving out whatever presence had manifested itself inside his mind, when a single sentence, spoken by a voice behind him, completely shattered his concentration.
“Am I dead?” came a voice from behind him. The accent was Chelaxian, but Aquor struggled to place it specifically. The voice sounded old, younger than Aquor had been back in his home, but older than the body Aquor currently appeared to inhabit. A voice responded to him; a jolly, optimistic voice, this time from the man directly in front of Aquor. “Aye you are! Welcome to the Boneyard. It’s my third time through here in the last month or so. I imagine it’s your first time?” “It’s my first time getting the shit kicked out of me and not waking up, if that's what you're asking.” responded the Chillaxin from behind Aquor. The jolly voice responded in kind “Well congrats. You're dead. You stopped breathing long enough for your soul to travel to the Boneyard. Raise Dead is out of the question for us folk now....but there's still a chance you might make it back to the land of the living, it really depends.”
“What are you talking about?” spoke Aquor, towards the man in front of him. “Who are you, what’s going on? And how do you know all this?” The man in front of him barely attempted to turn his head, rather he continued speaking to the bald head of the man in front of him. “Joseph Campbell, Priest of Pharasma” the man introduced himself as. “I’ve been studying the Boneyard my entire life, and even visited a few times. Granted, this is the first time I’ve been able to be, well, processed, but don’t you worry. Everything seems normal so far.”
This time the objection came from the Chelaxian man from behind Aquor “The fuck are you on about? You said we’re dead. Where the fuck are we, and what the fuck are you on about?”
“Now now” spoke Joseph from in front of them both. “No need to be impolite. After all, no use ruining your permanent record at this stage of the game. Perhaps some introductions are in order? I can hardly see you two, after all.”
“Smoke.” came the curt voice from behind Aquor. “Smoke Waters. Thief, Wizard, and apparently Corpse on the floor of the Tomb of Horrors.” This seemed to elicit a chuckle from Joseph. “Tomb of Horrors eh? I’ve heard of that place. What was it like, before you died?”
Smoke let out a sigh as Joseph spoke, but responded. “Fuckin’ brutal. I had to find TEN hidden doors to get to the room we got overwhelmed in.TEN! We had to deal with a hundred spiked pits , a thousand other traps, and a giant snake monster who took a big bite out of Xera. Then we had just passed through ANOTHER spiked pit trap until we found ourselves in this room full of fucking ooze that shook a whole bunch and ate our flesh right off! I got knocked down into a whole vat of that stuff, blacked out, and ended up here, this....Boneyard place.”
“And you my friend?” asked Joseph of the man standing directly behind him. Aquor responded as formally as he could, given the circumstances. “My name is Aquor Von Canto, I am a summoner and transmuter. I was just relaxing in my house, minding my own business, when two hobgoblins burst in, held me down on my bed, and were accompanied by a third, a blue skinned woman with a glaive. She stabbed me through my midsection, raped me, and left me to rot. I woke up here.”
“My My!” spoke Joseph. “Well as much as dieing in the Tomb of’ Horrors sounds famous and all, I gotta give it to our second friend here. That’s a mighty brutal way to die, and I don’t mean it in the complementary way. Still, I’m sorry for both of your losses. You’ve still got a bit of a chance to get out of here, right yet, depending on how many friends you made above ground. If not however....welcome to the Boneyard. Realm of my Goddess, the Mother of Souls herself, Pharasma.”
“You both ended up here because yer heart stopped beating, and yer lungs stopped breathing. You’ve been dead for quite some time, actually to end up here. Suffice it to say, this line leads to the Goddess herself. All these lines do. You either wait it out, and await your final judgement, or ya hope some kind soul from the material plane cares enough about you to afford to Resurrection spell. It’s rare, I’ll admit it, but it’s certainly possible. Once you cross Her Lady’s gaze however? It’s a whole different world on the Outer Planes.”
“So...what yer saying is,” spoke Smoke, speaking slowly this time “Is that we either get resurrected by magic WAY above my pay grade, and if we don’t...we get the pleasure to stand in line for all eternity?”
“Well, not exactly.” responded Joseph “After all, even if you head back to the material plane, it’s only a temporary detour from Phasmaras judgement. And besides....Judgement isn’t nothing to be afraid of, so long as you’ve lived a virtuous life, you’ll end up with your patron deity on one of the Upper Planes.”
“And if you spent your life drinking, praying to Cayden when you could, but mostly drinking, looking after yourself, and never really got into the whole religion thing?” asked Smoke, clearly distraught.
“Welllll, it’s not for me to say.” answered the priest. “After all, it is the Lady of Bones herself who makes the judgement, not I. Suffice to say, she can see every moment of your life, even if you yourself don’t remember it. She knows mortals are fallible, and doesn't expect anyone to be perfect. So long as you tried your best, and did what was right, you should be fine.”
“And what if..” spoke Aquor, in the middle of both of them. “What if you lived your life a coward? As a thief and a necromancer, as one who sought lichdom but was denied by your own spellcraft? A life lived as a cynic, as a failure, and as the unwitting father to, more than likely, some sort of monster?”
“Well, Ummm.” spoke Joseph, clearly with more hesitation in his voice than before. “What deity did you pay homage too?”
Aquor gave a half smile. What deity had he not prayed to at some point? “Wee Jas, Hexor, Asmodeus. Gozreh. Abadar. Sarenrae. Nethys. Bobacob. Irori. Sheylin. Some sort of Rainbow Lady who saved my life at one point. Never had time to commit to a deity, really.”
Joseph didn’t respond for a while, at first Aquor was afraid he had broken some sort of deity-name taboo among the unmoving celestial and fiendish guards who surrounded them. After a few, silent, almost anticipation-building moments however, Joseph responded, his voice heavy with sorrow.
“Well, my friend, the only advice I can give you is to hope to the High Heavens that whoever finds your corpse up their is willing to shell out the cash for a Resurrection. And one you get back, you had best become a monk and start praying with every second you have left on Golarion. Because with your track record? I’dd say you'd be lucky if you ended up the personal toothpick of some Infernal Baron of Hell. Lichdom? Good lord man, you be breaking every taboo in Phasmara’s book going looking for that. You’dd best be hoping she doesn't send you off to the Hells now...or worse, just smite yer soul out of existence for trying. I give you my pity, my friend. You’ve best get your hopes up.”
“Hope is something I abandoned long ago,” responded Aquor, “It died when my fiancee was murdered.” Joseph inhaled a breath to respond, but his mind fell short of responses. Soon, the only sound that could be heard throughout the boneyard was the shuffling of the queries of souls ever-forward. As silence filled the air again, Aquor realized that he was going to be here for a long time.
End of Chapter 1.
Without a need for food, water, or indeed, any way of telling the time in the vast, starry sky of the Boneyard, time itself lost meaning. As the three souls shuffled forward in the impossibly long queue, the sound of bodies materialising out of nowhere disappeared behind them, leaving the only sight any of them could see were the massive lines of souls stretching out to infinity. Indeed, perhaps the only thing that each of them had was their own mind, and their voices. The three of them talked, and talked, and talked more. Stories were shared, as were experiences, spells, and tales. Indeed, Aquor found himself surprised with exactly just how much he was able to remember from his past life. Every time he made this realization, however, the knowledge that he was dead once again hit him like a frieght train. Aquor spoke at length to the priest in front of him, Joseph, but every time he got the same answer. “Indeed, Pharasma tends to look down on those who only seek redemption once their head rolls over their shoulders. It’s a bit too late now, I’m afraid.”
Aquors thoughts also turned towards Pepehel. Yes, he had seen the old elf get beaten by the hobgoblins who attacked him, but surely Pepehel wasn’t dead. Otherwise he would have seen him, surely, if the two of them had died around the same time? The other option was that Pepehel was still alive. Aquor didn’t think Pepehel had anywhere close to the arcane ability to cast the powerful magic required to return him to life...but perhaps Pepehel might find someone? Aquor sighed. No. That would require time, money, and influence, something none of them had much of, much less with Aquor dead.
With his mind firmly consigned to his fate, Aquor took the time to let to know his “neighbors”, as it were.While Joseph shared a happy, if unexciting tale of a priest from the city of Isarn, Smoke’s tale was much more lively. The wizard explained, in quite good detail, his wanderlust from a young age, his falling in with a group of rogues, his thiefs to pay for a Wizards education, and how he used that magic to make a tidy living for himself. He explained his end came when he was deeply in debt, and was forced to go grave-robbing for the money he needed. Finally, Aquor shared his story, his childhood under the Red Band, his time fleeing from Ruthgar, meeting the love of his life, and later, his slow decent into cynicism, followed by his murder. Indeed, he shared his story more than once. All of them did. As minutes turned into hours, and hours turned into days, it became all but impossible to determine how long any of them had been their. The three of them had discussions, got mad at each other, refused to speak to one another, acquitted one another, and continued to speak over and over again. Smoke and Aquor had a two week discussion on the nature and merit of summoned creatures. Joshua spend close to a month teaching the two of them hyms and mantras of the Grey Lady, leading to the two of them having just as much of the holy texts memorised as Joseph did. All the while, the line moved ever slowly forward.
After an uncountable number of discussions, counter discussions, and sing-songs, something began to shine from the horizon of this plane. Joshua was deep in discussion with Smoke at the time, when suddenly, the priest began shouting. “She’s their! She’s their!”
The two wizards turned their head towards the horizon where, just peeking over a hill, a huge staircase was visible, swirling around in a great magical maelstrom. As the line moved forward, a figure was visible. She was humanoid, and not much bigger than a regular human. As the line approached closer, the three of them could pick out more significant details. She had grey skin, white hair, and sat on a remarkably spartan-looking throne, it’s only embellishment was it’s inlay of bones. “The Lady of Bones herself!” spoke Joseph, in such a tone as one might make when addressing a long-lost family member. “I can't believe I can see her with my own eyes!” The priest raised both his arms directly up in prayer and continued “Oh joyous day! Our judgement comes, and my final reward awaits!” Both Smoke and Aquor looked upon Joshua, but kept their thoughts to themselves. One he was done, Joshua half-turned his head towards his two companions behind him, and say. “What do you say, one more round of chanting, now that we’re in view of Pharasma?” With little left to occupy their minds, the three of them began a slow chant.
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well (it is well) with my soul (with my soul) It is well, it is well with my soul.
Though Rovagug should buffet, though trials should come, Let this blest assurance control, That Lady has regarded my helpless estate, And hath keeps her own watch for my soul.
The line was moving significantly faster now. Perhaps it was because their end goal was now in sight of those in the line, or perhaps that the three of them were focused more on the speed of the line then anything else. Indeed, they soon became close enough to count the number of souls ahead of them. However, once they did, something strange appeared to happen; As each soul approached Phasmara’s gaze, they appeared to wink out of existence, only for the next soul to approach and also wink out in a similar manner. “Phasmara does not like keeping the Infinite Lineup waiting, it seems.” spoke Joseph. Neither Smoke nor Aquor responded, both pairs of eyes fixated on Phasmara herself. To be so close to a deity....it was impossible to describe.
The line was much shorter now. 10 souls were left in front of them. 9 souls. 8 souls. The three of them accepted their fate solemnly. They had already said their goodbyes to each other. 3 souls. 2 souls. 1 souls. Joseph walked forward into Phasmara’s gaze, and was instantly warped out of existence. Aquor took a deep breath and follows him, walking towards the Goddess. A bright light surrounded him. And then, nothing.
For the second time since being stabbed through the chest, Aquor awoke to the sound of his own breathing. Except, this time he was no longer within an infinitely long line, nor was he home. Aquor awoke in a red, silken bed, in what looked to be a circular, stone room. Around him, he saw alchemical labs, bookshelfs worth of knowledge, shelfs full of arcane regents, and tables full of enchanting dust. The floorboards were made of rustic, strong wood, and the ceiling was a beautiful stained glass depiction of a blue scroll, the symbol of the Arcane Order...a symbol that Aquor had not seen in quite some time.
Standing up and getting out of bed, Aquor looked around, confused as to whose house he had been transported into, when a single voice broke the silence. “Aquor?” It spoke. As Aquor turned around, and his eyes fell upon her, his heart skipped a beat. The voice came from a young female human, looking to be in and around her mid 20s. She had rustic ginger hair, and a pair of sparkling blue eyes. On her body, she wore the simple, red and brown off-duty uniform of a Korvosa city guard, and her arms outstretched towards him.
Aquor could only squeak out an “Even?!.....” before his body took over. He ran towards his fiancée in a vigor he had not had for over 50 years. The two of them rushed towards each other, and hugged in a way that a husband might reunite with a long-lost wife. The two of them tightly hugged one another, embarrassing out of love, loss, and happiness. Time stood still for both of them, as the two lovers cried tears of joy, and kissed. The two of them may have stood there , tightly stitched together forever, were it not for a third person to walk into the room. It was a second human women, albeit younger than the first. In her hands she held a crayon, and in the other, a particularly complicated paper on the fundamental nature of the Weave. Upon seeing who Evan was hugging, Zabal Daria Faux dropped what she was holding, and ran over to join them. And for the first time in over 60 years, Aquor was happy.
End of Chapter 2
The smell of warm apple pile filled the wizards tower, as Aquor opened up magically-lit oven, and pulled out the warm, and heavenly smelling pie. At the same time, Evan reached into the countertops to pull out a trifecta of plates, along with a trio of forks, and a handful of woolen napkins. Zabel grabbed placemats from the pantry, and, as a well oiled family, the three of them placed their respective responsibilities onto the table, and all began to dig in at once.
All three were quite tired, as it had been a remarkably long week for all three of them. Once the initial shock had worn off, Evan and Zabel had taken their long-lost fiance and teacher (respectfully) on a tour of their new home, the Olympian Glades of Arborea, a vast plane, consisting of rich forests, fields full of grain, all manner of different types of elves as well as a general sense of freedom and plentiness...Satyrs and other angels should be see through the infinite expanse, eating, drinking, partying, and in the city's, massive markets and temples to deities, both current and forgotten, each tended to by their respective followers. Giant wizards academy's, each filled with thousands of long-dead mages, dueling grounds where warrior sparred with angel, as well as tutelages, where those who died at a young age should be taught the way of the world, just like on the mortal plane.
As they ate, however, Aquor spoke up first. “Forgive me if I don’t understand.” he began. “But if this is Heaven, then why do you still need to go through all the motions to cook a pie, or cast a spell? Surely it should be as simple as clapping your hands, right?” Evan gave a friendly laugh at her partner's nativity. “Maybe on the more hedonistic planes like Elysium that's how things work, but on Arborea everyone pulls their own weight. If you want something done, you need to do it yourself. After all, isn’t it more satisfying to go through all the work required to bake and cook, as opposed to “clapping your hands?”
“Aquor waited till he had swallowed his current bite before responding. “I suppose so. I’ll admit I never was one to shy away from doing actual work. Happy that magic still works though....” He took another bite before continuing. “So what have you two been up to for the last 30 years or so” Aquor said, in a joking tone “Just waiting for me to die, or?”
Zabel giggled and said “Not exactly. Time flows differently in Arborea. While it may have been nearly 30 years for you since you last saw me and Evan , the truth is, it barely feels like a day has passed for either of us. Time flows exactly as fast, or as slow as you'd like. And if you’ve got the magic to cast spells, it allows you to view anyone on the Material plane, at any time. “
Aquor smiled, and took another bite before continuing. “Though, the only thing I don’t completely understand is why? Why’dd I end up here? Up here with you and Zabel?
Zabel and Evan turned towards Aquor, confusion in their eyes. The orcish wizard continued. “I mean, look at me! I’m a necromancer for Sarenre’s sake! I spent my life running from my mistakes, I stopped having hope...I died alone in my bed. Why here? By rights I should be a demonic plaything in the abyss for what I’ve done! I....I don’t deserve to be here. I was a wicked, evil wizard in my life and I don’t see ho-”
As Aquor fell a tug on his robes, he looked down to see Zabel was standing next to him, her short arms pulling on his satin robes, sadness in her eyes. As he sighted her, Aquor let out a sigh, and kneeled down to Zabels level, and gave her a long, fatherly hug. The two of them hugged for what felt like an eternity, before both of them opened their eyes, and Evan helped Aquor up.
“I don’t know.” she said plainly. “I’m not a deity. None of us are.”
“What you did when you were mortal was yours and Phasmara’s business alone. I suppose you could go ask her though.”
Now it was Aquor’s turn to act confused. “Ask her? What do you mean? I was waiting in line, and then, boom, I ended up here on Arborea.” Even gave a slight giggle, and simply nodded, before walking over to one of the doors, and pressing a series of magical glyphs that Aquor didn’t recognize.
A few moments later, the whooshing of air betrayed the appearance of a newcomer, who flew down, and landed in front of Canto residence door. As the outsider made her presence known, Aquor saw a third woman enter into his home.
She had silvery-blonde hair that flowed over and around her pointed elf ears. Hey eyes glowed a mystical green. Her garment was a red and purple dress that flowed around her, like a wizard's gown, that constantly moved, as if by an unseen breeze that seemed to emanate from all points of her skin. Finally, a pair of soft, white, angelic wings that appeared to emanate from her back, causing her to take up almost as much space as a goliath. When she opened her mouth, she spoke with the grace, and dignity of a thousand royal households, and caught Aquor off balance as she pronounced her name. “Quel’rose Dawnblade, what seems to be the problem?”
End of Chapter 3
As the two of them flew over farmland and planes, Quel finished her explanation: “...And so while mortals on the material plane must go through a lot of hoops to speak to the gods, now that you're on the Outer Planes it’s much simpler to speak with the Divine. In fact, for the most part, it’s simply a matter of heading down to the local temple of the deity you wish to speak to, and asking for permission.” Quel’rose said, finishing her explanation. “Truth be told, it used to be much more difficult, we'd never have enough clerics on-staff in order to field all the questions of the petitioners. Nowadays, all you need to do is walk in and pray yourself.”
“Not enough clerics?” questioned Aquor. “But this is Arborea. Surely you’dd have an overabundance of clerics?”
“Not necessarily.” responded Quel’rose. “Few people take up the path of the clergyman on the material plane. Combine that with the fact that Arborea is a very big place, and few people move about, and it should come as no surprise that their are less clerics nowadays than their have ever been.
“Really?” spoke Aquor. “I had no idea. Still, you haven’t entirely told me where we’re going.”
“We’re headed to one of the largest temples on this plane to the Lady of the Graves, “The Temple of the Last Prayer”
“Temple of the Last Prayer? Sounds ominous”
“It’s the largest temple to the Goddess around, so named because its where most faithfull end up when they first arrive at Arborea. It’s that building, right over there.”
The two of them descended from the air, and landed in front of the imposing structure. As Aquor stood at the entrance to the cathedral, he felt, perhaps for the first time in a quite long while, dwarfed and insignificant next to the totality of it’s majesty. It’s massive, gothic cathedral arches were plumed with purple-stained glass windows, it’s central fixture, a massive, unmoving grandfather clock, pointing in all twelve directions at once, a symbol of both the eternality, and never-changing aspect of both life and death, with a pair of spearlike, pointed towers that seemed to spiral above the clouds themselves. The building itself was made of simple, carved purple brick, the foundation of countless homes,holding countless lives, with each individual brick it’s own, incredible story. For now, however, the pair of tall, double-doors, easily big enough for a dragon to walk through with space to spare, opened up, allowed his own, meager, small, and thoroughly intimidated form into the chapel.
Before he could react, however, a familiar-sounding voice called out to him, from nearby the church. “Welcome to The Last Prayer, where all worshipers and lost souls are welcome!” As Aquor turned his head towards the sound of the voice, he saw what appeared to be a young man in his near 30s. At first, Aquor could not recognize him, but when the man turned his back towards Aquor, the old wizard recognised the hairstyle of his old friend almost immediately. “Joseph!” he called out.
Joseph was confused to hear his real name called out by one of the apparent random souls entering into the cathedral, but as the figure drew closer, more lights began to light up in the priest's head. “Aquor....?” he said to himself at first, confused, followed by an “Aquor! Good Gods you're uglier then I thought you'd be!”
Aquor moved over to the priest he had not seen in weeks, the two of them seeing each others faces for the first time. Truth be told, it felt strange for both of them. However, their jubilation upon seeing each other canceled out any sense of negativity.
“Joseph!” spoke Aquor “By the Gods, am I happy to see you here.”
“And I as well” came the reply. “Phasmara smiles upon you, it seems, to find you here among her majesty. What brings you into her grace this day?” As Aquor explained the previous hours worth of events to his old friend, Joseph’s expression grew grim at first, he placed his priestly hands into his pockets, but as the old orc he had spend countless time with prior to arriving in the upper planes explained his predicament, the priests expression managed to warm up.
“Truth be told, Aquor, after what you told me I’m surprised to see you up here as well. Still, that's nothing a little prayer can't fix. Come with me.” And so Aquor and Quel followed Joseph as the priest walked the three of them inside the church as he spoke, light shining on them from above from the mile-high glass windows. He lead them through a number of smaller corridors before they arrived at what appeared to be a simple, featureless room, with wooden walls, floors and ceilings.
“Just as a cleric must pray to prepare spells in the morning, I advise you to sit down, meditate, and relax. Phasmara answers all questions in time.”
Joseph kneeled down on one knee, like a knight might before a noble. Quel took up a simple sitting position near the door. Aquor sat on his legs, like he might when preparing spells.
Joseph spoke up, now in a calm, relaxing voice.
“Breath in....and out. In and out. In....2....3.....4. Out....2...3....4...In....2....3...4 Out...2...3...4.Like the sides of a square. In...2....3....4, Out...2....3...4....”
End of Chapter 4
Light. From every direction. The wood of the floor transformed into clouds, a light breeze brushing in from the west. Aquor attempted to open his eyes...but an unseen force held them shut. He was certainly not in kansas anymore. The sound of warm, heated water, pour into an unseen glass filled the soundscape.
“Hello?” said Aquor, perhaps fearful of a response.
Rather than receive a reply, his closed eyes received a vision. A vision that of his mother, shortly thereafter he was born. She looked at the young baby boy with loving, motherly eyes, even as she sat in a cage, surrounded by other captives from the orcish raiders.
The vision ended, and Aquor took a few moments to process it. “Where am I?” he asked.
Another vision filled his mind. That of the experience he had had not too long ago, of waking up in a strange, purple plane, and being shuffled along into an infinitely long line, and meeting Joseph for the first time.
“Who are you?” he asked.
This vision was that of a church, an entire congregation, made up of equal parts men and women, young and old, newborn and nearly bedridden, each of them singing gospel in harmony towards an altar, dedicated with both birth certificates and pictures of the departed. A single glass of water sat on the altar, seemingly dancing along with the singing.
“Does.....does this mean I can ask you a question?”
Aquor saw a vision of himself again, doing some basic math homework. On it was the question 2+2. A young Aquor picked up the pencil and wrote in a clear script “4”
“I....I am, I’m terribly sorry, m-My Lady I shall not waste your time, I-”
Another vision of her mother, towards a crying child. She spoke in hushed tones “It’s ok. It’s allright. Calm down. You're safe now.”
That last vision caught Aquor off guard, as long-lost thoughts flooded his head. “Where is she now? Is she alright?”
A vision, not of Arboreta, but of the Seven Mounting Heavens filled his mind. It zeroed in on the third layer, where Aquor saw his mother, a face he had not seen in over 40 years helping a group of halflings prepare, and wrap up food for the winter.
As the visan faded, Aquor considered asking his...current guest, if he should go see his mother. He stopped himself however. For he had bigger questions to ask.
“Lady of Graves....why did you judge me to end up in the Upper Planes? Why was I not damned to eternal torment in Hell?”
The vision this time was that of a confused puppy, tilting it’s head sideways, in confusion.
“I....I do not desire to burn for my crimes, no. I...I am just confused. I don’t think I ever made anything of my life. My entire life, I was running I was fleeing, I was chased by angry mobs, I....”
The next vision, Aquor saw Nolith, his massive, Enlarged body breaking down a nearby tower as they escaped an underground cave. He saw himself gifting a puzzle box to a old, black-cloaked fighter friend. He saw himself and Blake high five each other as they set up a campsite together. He saw him and Zabel working tirelessly through the night, both on scribing scrolls, and on his floating chair invention. He saw himself lift his Staff of Illumination into the air, blinding and destroying the vampire-queen, and nearly killing himself and Belore in the process.
“But.....but what about the necromancy? I raised armies! Defiled graves! Ripped souls away from you...your judgement?”
Aquor saw a man he did not recognize laying on a bed as a priest pronounced the man dead. The man was carried out to a church graveyard and dumped into a massive pile of similar bodies, without fanfare, or ceremony. The mass grave was covered, and Aquor could see hundreds of sad, sad souls escaping their bodys. Snow felt upon the unmarked graves, and melted an uncountable number of times, until Aquor saw himself walk over to above the pile of bodies, place black obligation upon the pile, and cast an Animate Dead spell, creating dozens of skeletons. Aquor recognized these skeletons as a group he had raised much earlier in life, when he was still toying with the idea of lichdom. Aquor saw as these skeletons followed him around, not seeing combat, no, but being useful in other ways. Serving as butlers, or entertaining children. As sentries and guards to cities. And despite the fear and distrust they provoked, how his skeletons never fought back against the distrusting population, and continued their ardent defence of the cities that Aquor and his party inhabited at the time.
“But my creations died with me! I left nothing of value on the material plane....nothing!”
Each of Aquor’s eyes were lit up with a different image. In his left eye, he saw a young half-orc who looked remarkably similar to himself cutting down what looked to be a lighting-using hag, along with a party of adventurers. His vision closed in on the half orc, until he was able to see a holy symbol of Sheylin upon his neck, inscribed with a small, but still clearly legible “Property of Riel Canto.”
His other eye painted a much different picture. He saw a young human girl, furiously studying a book, surrounded by arcane tomes, including both his own spell books, and a number of books he recognized from his own house. The blue skinned woman walked in on the barely 7 year old girl, struggling to read the technical manual, and, absentmindedly mentioned, “What's that you're reading?” The little girls heart skipped a beat, and she was momentarily caught off guard. “What....Master?” The blue women walked over to the other side of the desk, and said. “The book you’ve got. What’s it about?” The girl , now looking up into blueish purple eyes, responded “Uhhh...well, Trixie...It’s a....mostly theoretical. It’s a volume about manipulating luck..fate..and other sub-strata of divination magic.” Trixie responded in an equally disinterested tome “And why are you reading it?” Confused, the girl responded “Because Xol put it on the reading list for this week, and it’s part of the....
Trixie cut her prodigy off. “Xol is dead, Wendy. Your blade pierced his skull, and impaled into his brain. He passed pretty much as soon as you left the room. “ The little girl looked at her master, horrified. Trixie, however, continued on. “Xol was one of my most trained instructors, ever since Vol passed. I saw that dwarf take on entire towns worth of warriors. Command legions. And yet, you took him down with a single knife to the skull.”
Wendy began to show visible worry lines across her face as Trixie continued to talk, however suddenly, she seemed to change tones. “I’m impressed. I know few within my ranges with the balls to be able to take out Xol, especially during a training exercise. You were not one of them. And you proved me wrong. Perhaps you’ve gotten better at things then I thought. As a result, with Xol dead, I don’t think I have anyone really able to continue training you. As a result, while your a few years too early, I think I’ve just the thing for you to prove your skills.......”
Aquor regained his senses. He had children...real, living descendants. And although he had never met them...at least one of them appeared to be going out, and making a difference in the world. Aquor felt a wave of relief, but also guilt at the little girl he had scene. Still, he had a few more things to ask.
“Does that cancel it out? I had children, and saved a few people...but surely all the other things...”
His eyes received a new vision, this time of himself, Ruthgar, Fred, and Pepehel, bursting into a cultist base. Aquor recognised this building...it had been where the cultists who had captured Prince Holder had hid in during his rescue of the baby.
The next vision was that of a battle, a burning, wooden outpost. All had abandoned the outpost, except for Aquor....and the leader of the Golden Hawks. Aquor conjured a ball of fire to engulf the mercenary leader-turned-bandit,as the outpost fell atop him....though Pepehel pulled him out alive.
The third vision he saw himself sitting in the halls of the Arcane Order, his half-built phylactery directly in front of him. With a sigh, Aquor saw himself grunt, grab a hold of the crystal, and smash it directly into the ground. Over a hundred thousand gold pieces worth of work....destroyed in less then a second.
The next was of Aquor, standing defiantly against the hobgoblin legions as he and Pepehel helped to evacuate the crumbling city, saving thousands of dwarven lives.
In the next, he saw the port city of Tribor, where he first met Zabel, a lonely, and familyless girl, where Aquor offering her not only shelter, but meaning, and connection. He saw Blake, Nissa, and Edward, people who he had not seen in decades, but witnesses the connection, and hope that he gave those people.
Aquor saw his writings, his essays. Not while he penned them no, but saw them read by aspiring wizards, his scrolls copyed, and his spells, from Hex of Accuracy, to the simple Pants, were taught and learned around the world.
Now older, Aquor saw himself walking alongside Nolith, next to the Queen that his robotic friend had pledged his allegiance to Two people who could not be more different, but in that moment, the closest of allies, with a grudging respect for one another.
The next vision was significant. Aquor saw Ruthgar, nearly 60 years old, dressed not for battle, but for formality, sitting in what looked to be a courtroom. Next to him was a human equally dressed. Both wore the tanamout “Red Band” that marked their mercenary allegiance. Next to them in the desk of the prosecutor was a suit-toting gnome, next to a grief-stricken half-elf. As the murmurs filled the courtroom, the judge, a ageing human, brought his gavel down to quit the rumors. “Order.” he spoke. “Order in the courtroom.”
“Major Ruthguar of the Red Band mercenary company,” the judge began "After ample deliberation, I officially find you guilty of the murder of Justice Clarence Thomas. Due to the particularly heinous nature of the crime, I believe the standard sentence is not appropriate. instead, i am sentencing you to death under the Murder of Officials act, to be carried out by the lawful church of Iomedae whose code you have most seriously broken. May she show justice upon your soul.”
His final vision was that of himself in his elderly years, years before he had chosen to move up north, when he had taken a final tiefling appetence, a girl named Elixir, in the city of Westcrown. Their had been a knock on the door, and a request to open a strange, sealed pod. Inside were documents, written in infernal. And in translating those documents, and handing off the results to a resistance group known as The New Vanguard, he ultimately helped them lead a rebellion to usher forth the liberation of the city from devilish possession.
It took some time for Aquor to regain his own mind after the barrage of visions, and even longer for Aquor to feel his body floating once more. Silence filled the air. After a pause, however, the answer was clear, and his cynicism seemed to melt away like butter. It all made sense now. All the puzzle pieces fell into place.
However, he was not yet done seeking knowledge. He had but one, final, question. “If Ruthguar is to die, my children to carry on my legacy, my story finished...then what is to happen to me now? What happens to us after we die? Shall I just fade into nothingness? What happens now?”
Rather than another vision, Aquor felt a massive wave of light emanating from all around him It shined brightly enough through his eyes, and through his entire being that for, but a brief moment, he was light. And then....nothing.
Epolouge:
Absalom Station, Year 107 After Gap
In the wings of the Elfast Memorial Hospital, Dismas Neil Arkhipov was not having a good day. Pain rushed through his chest, and his lungs skipped a beat. His cybernetic arm twitched and he couldn't help but continuously extend and retreat his fingers. His therapist had told him that implants like his helped to relieve stress, but he was far from unstressed. His wife was in premature labor, and while modern medicine meant she was far from unlikely to die due to any sort of complications, the mere fact that she was a Lashunta meant that her pregnancy was far from ordinary. She was far more delicate than any human woman, and the fact that she had married a human was even more troubling.
“Humanity First” was what they called themselfs. Hardcore xenophobics they were, and they had attacked Surrah, his wife, while they were on their way to the hospital. While modern medicine certainly meant that his wife had a fair chance of surviving, their child even less so. “Hybrids” as the newsvids called them, or mixing of human and nonhuman blood, always caused complications. Dismas shook his head. It wasn’t his fault he found Surrah to be as beautiful as she was. She was “the one” He knew it. And so he twitched his fingers once more.
“Mr Arkhipov...” came a distinctly human voice over the loudspeaker. ‘Please proceed to room 12-B.”Dismas stood himself up, and grabbed his wooden walking stick. Some people called him old fashioned for using such an archaic piece of technology, when walking poles, wheelchairs, or even full corrective-surgeries were available for pennies on the dollar. But Dismas was never one to trust “Fancy binky-shit” After all, a cane never ran out of battery. Nor did it ever need to be varnished, or upgraded to the latest model. Dismas had used the same cane for the last few decades, and he was planning on useing it for a few more decades before he got a new one. As the hermetically sealed doors opened, the first thing Dismas saw was Surrah, both alive, and conscious. His face beamed with smiles as he walked over to her. As he got closer, Surrah moved her left arm to reveal a tiny, tiny baby, no more than half the size of her arm, furiously sucking at her breast. As Dismas saw his first child, he nearly exploded with joy, and rushed over to hug Surra.
The two of them spent about six hours in the hospital after that, mostly for tests done to make sure that, yes, their new bundle of joy was happy, healthy, and free of common genetic abnormalities children occasionally get from space-births. They also stayed in order to to write out the literal mountain of paperwork, required for a new birth on the station,after all, a new birth ment both tax breaks for the parents, but ID cards, and schooling forms to be registered. The Arkhipov’s waited long and hard before writing their answer to the last, and perhaps most important box in the whole form. After a good few moments of discussion, however, the two of them settled on the name “Jaeden Fjord Arkhipov.”
It did not last long, however. To his relief, his lungs suddenly began to respond to his call, seemingly with renewed force. Aquor took in a number of sort, harsh breaths before slowly slowing down to long, labored breaths. As energy was restored to his body, he opened his eyes, and was greeted not by the ceiling of his home, nor that of a temple priest, but of purple lighting, cresting across a cloudless moonlit sky, sparked with starlight. Aquor lay on the ground, confused, for a fraction of a second, before a second later, a human appeared to suddenly materialize atop him, crashing down upon his face.
“Ach!” Cried the half-orc, who pushed the nearly-nude body off of him, with a surprising amount of newfound strength, as he rolled to the side. Aquor stood up, and looked over to where he had just been laying. In the time it had taken him to roll away and stand up, about half a dozen humans had suddenly materialised near where he had awoken, at a rate of about one a second. Aquor looked around. In front of this pile of bodies, he saw perhaps the strangest sight yet:
Rows of archons and devils, standing in perfect organization...not fighting, and stranger still, seemingly leading the packs of rapidly piling human body's (along with the odd member of another race) into several impossibly long lines. Many people, including Aquor, walked over to the seemingly stoic archons, but instead of words they were unceremoniously pushed down the almost...conveyor belt of outsiders, until each of them found themselves standing at the back of an impossibly long line, a queue of people seemingly stretching onwards over the horizon. Looking to his left and his right, Aquor saw more lines. Thousands, if not millions of people, of all different races and classes, stood in an equally uncountable number of lines, stretching as far as the eye could see in all directions.
As Aquor silently stood in the line,as many of the humans that surrounded him did, his mind attempted to make sense of his new situation. Had he been Soul-trapped? Entirely possible. That would explain the purple sky. But why the thousands of other people? This was either an illusion, or a vast, VAST soulgem. Had he simply been captured by the strange, blue-skinned woman and injected with hallucinogenic? Possibly. Then why the outsiders? ANd why was he in control of his mind?
Aquor looked down. To his surprise, rather than see his injured, old, wrinkle-laden body, he saw lush green skin, and a youthful vigor he had not felt since his time in the Red Band. This gave him a new theory...perhaps he was under some sort of mind-control...an advanced suggestion, or implant, attempting to get at his earliest memories. Aquor closed his eyes, and began to focus on driving out whatever presence had manifested itself inside his mind, when a single sentence, spoken by a voice behind him, completely shattered his concentration.
“Am I dead?” came a voice from behind him. The accent was Chelaxian, but Aquor struggled to place it specifically. The voice sounded old, younger than Aquor had been back in his home, but older than the body Aquor currently appeared to inhabit. A voice responded to him; a jolly, optimistic voice, this time from the man directly in front of Aquor. “Aye you are! Welcome to the Boneyard. It’s my third time through here in the last month or so. I imagine it’s your first time?” “It’s my first time getting the shit kicked out of me and not waking up, if that's what you're asking.” responded the Chillaxin from behind Aquor. The jolly voice responded in kind “Well congrats. You're dead. You stopped breathing long enough for your soul to travel to the Boneyard. Raise Dead is out of the question for us folk now....but there's still a chance you might make it back to the land of the living, it really depends.”
“What are you talking about?” spoke Aquor, towards the man in front of him. “Who are you, what’s going on? And how do you know all this?” The man in front of him barely attempted to turn his head, rather he continued speaking to the bald head of the man in front of him. “Joseph Campbell, Priest of Pharasma” the man introduced himself as. “I’ve been studying the Boneyard my entire life, and even visited a few times. Granted, this is the first time I’ve been able to be, well, processed, but don’t you worry. Everything seems normal so far.”
This time the objection came from the Chelaxian man from behind Aquor “The fuck are you on about? You said we’re dead. Where the fuck are we, and what the fuck are you on about?”
“Now now” spoke Joseph from in front of them both. “No need to be impolite. After all, no use ruining your permanent record at this stage of the game. Perhaps some introductions are in order? I can hardly see you two, after all.”
“Smoke.” came the curt voice from behind Aquor. “Smoke Waters. Thief, Wizard, and apparently Corpse on the floor of the Tomb of Horrors.” This seemed to elicit a chuckle from Joseph. “Tomb of Horrors eh? I’ve heard of that place. What was it like, before you died?”
Smoke let out a sigh as Joseph spoke, but responded. “Fuckin’ brutal. I had to find TEN hidden doors to get to the room we got overwhelmed in.TEN! We had to deal with a hundred spiked pits , a thousand other traps, and a giant snake monster who took a big bite out of Xera. Then we had just passed through ANOTHER spiked pit trap until we found ourselves in this room full of fucking ooze that shook a whole bunch and ate our flesh right off! I got knocked down into a whole vat of that stuff, blacked out, and ended up here, this....Boneyard place.”
“And you my friend?” asked Joseph of the man standing directly behind him. Aquor responded as formally as he could, given the circumstances. “My name is Aquor Von Canto, I am a summoner and transmuter. I was just relaxing in my house, minding my own business, when two hobgoblins burst in, held me down on my bed, and were accompanied by a third, a blue skinned woman with a glaive. She stabbed me through my midsection, raped me, and left me to rot. I woke up here.”
“My My!” spoke Joseph. “Well as much as dieing in the Tomb of’ Horrors sounds famous and all, I gotta give it to our second friend here. That’s a mighty brutal way to die, and I don’t mean it in the complementary way. Still, I’m sorry for both of your losses. You’ve still got a bit of a chance to get out of here, right yet, depending on how many friends you made above ground. If not however....welcome to the Boneyard. Realm of my Goddess, the Mother of Souls herself, Pharasma.”
“You both ended up here because yer heart stopped beating, and yer lungs stopped breathing. You’ve been dead for quite some time, actually to end up here. Suffice it to say, this line leads to the Goddess herself. All these lines do. You either wait it out, and await your final judgement, or ya hope some kind soul from the material plane cares enough about you to afford to Resurrection spell. It’s rare, I’ll admit it, but it’s certainly possible. Once you cross Her Lady’s gaze however? It’s a whole different world on the Outer Planes.”
“So...what yer saying is,” spoke Smoke, speaking slowly this time “Is that we either get resurrected by magic WAY above my pay grade, and if we don’t...we get the pleasure to stand in line for all eternity?”
“Well, not exactly.” responded Joseph “After all, even if you head back to the material plane, it’s only a temporary detour from Phasmaras judgement. And besides....Judgement isn’t nothing to be afraid of, so long as you’ve lived a virtuous life, you’ll end up with your patron deity on one of the Upper Planes.”
“And if you spent your life drinking, praying to Cayden when you could, but mostly drinking, looking after yourself, and never really got into the whole religion thing?” asked Smoke, clearly distraught.
“Welllll, it’s not for me to say.” answered the priest. “After all, it is the Lady of Bones herself who makes the judgement, not I. Suffice to say, she can see every moment of your life, even if you yourself don’t remember it. She knows mortals are fallible, and doesn't expect anyone to be perfect. So long as you tried your best, and did what was right, you should be fine.”
“And what if..” spoke Aquor, in the middle of both of them. “What if you lived your life a coward? As a thief and a necromancer, as one who sought lichdom but was denied by your own spellcraft? A life lived as a cynic, as a failure, and as the unwitting father to, more than likely, some sort of monster?”
“Well, Ummm.” spoke Joseph, clearly with more hesitation in his voice than before. “What deity did you pay homage too?”
Aquor gave a half smile. What deity had he not prayed to at some point? “Wee Jas, Hexor, Asmodeus. Gozreh. Abadar. Sarenrae. Nethys. Bobacob. Irori. Sheylin. Some sort of Rainbow Lady who saved my life at one point. Never had time to commit to a deity, really.”
Joseph didn’t respond for a while, at first Aquor was afraid he had broken some sort of deity-name taboo among the unmoving celestial and fiendish guards who surrounded them. After a few, silent, almost anticipation-building moments however, Joseph responded, his voice heavy with sorrow.
“Well, my friend, the only advice I can give you is to hope to the High Heavens that whoever finds your corpse up their is willing to shell out the cash for a Resurrection. And one you get back, you had best become a monk and start praying with every second you have left on Golarion. Because with your track record? I’dd say you'd be lucky if you ended up the personal toothpick of some Infernal Baron of Hell. Lichdom? Good lord man, you be breaking every taboo in Phasmara’s book going looking for that. You’dd best be hoping she doesn't send you off to the Hells now...or worse, just smite yer soul out of existence for trying. I give you my pity, my friend. You’ve best get your hopes up.”
“Hope is something I abandoned long ago,” responded Aquor, “It died when my fiancee was murdered.” Joseph inhaled a breath to respond, but his mind fell short of responses. Soon, the only sound that could be heard throughout the boneyard was the shuffling of the queries of souls ever-forward. As silence filled the air again, Aquor realized that he was going to be here for a long time.
End of Chapter 1.
Without a need for food, water, or indeed, any way of telling the time in the vast, starry sky of the Boneyard, time itself lost meaning. As the three souls shuffled forward in the impossibly long queue, the sound of bodies materialising out of nowhere disappeared behind them, leaving the only sight any of them could see were the massive lines of souls stretching out to infinity. Indeed, perhaps the only thing that each of them had was their own mind, and their voices. The three of them talked, and talked, and talked more. Stories were shared, as were experiences, spells, and tales. Indeed, Aquor found himself surprised with exactly just how much he was able to remember from his past life. Every time he made this realization, however, the knowledge that he was dead once again hit him like a frieght train. Aquor spoke at length to the priest in front of him, Joseph, but every time he got the same answer. “Indeed, Pharasma tends to look down on those who only seek redemption once their head rolls over their shoulders. It’s a bit too late now, I’m afraid.”
Aquors thoughts also turned towards Pepehel. Yes, he had seen the old elf get beaten by the hobgoblins who attacked him, but surely Pepehel wasn’t dead. Otherwise he would have seen him, surely, if the two of them had died around the same time? The other option was that Pepehel was still alive. Aquor didn’t think Pepehel had anywhere close to the arcane ability to cast the powerful magic required to return him to life...but perhaps Pepehel might find someone? Aquor sighed. No. That would require time, money, and influence, something none of them had much of, much less with Aquor dead.
With his mind firmly consigned to his fate, Aquor took the time to let to know his “neighbors”, as it were.While Joseph shared a happy, if unexciting tale of a priest from the city of Isarn, Smoke’s tale was much more lively. The wizard explained, in quite good detail, his wanderlust from a young age, his falling in with a group of rogues, his thiefs to pay for a Wizards education, and how he used that magic to make a tidy living for himself. He explained his end came when he was deeply in debt, and was forced to go grave-robbing for the money he needed. Finally, Aquor shared his story, his childhood under the Red Band, his time fleeing from Ruthgar, meeting the love of his life, and later, his slow decent into cynicism, followed by his murder. Indeed, he shared his story more than once. All of them did. As minutes turned into hours, and hours turned into days, it became all but impossible to determine how long any of them had been their. The three of them had discussions, got mad at each other, refused to speak to one another, acquitted one another, and continued to speak over and over again. Smoke and Aquor had a two week discussion on the nature and merit of summoned creatures. Joshua spend close to a month teaching the two of them hyms and mantras of the Grey Lady, leading to the two of them having just as much of the holy texts memorised as Joseph did. All the while, the line moved ever slowly forward.
After an uncountable number of discussions, counter discussions, and sing-songs, something began to shine from the horizon of this plane. Joshua was deep in discussion with Smoke at the time, when suddenly, the priest began shouting. “She’s their! She’s their!”
The two wizards turned their head towards the horizon where, just peeking over a hill, a huge staircase was visible, swirling around in a great magical maelstrom. As the line moved forward, a figure was visible. She was humanoid, and not much bigger than a regular human. As the line approached closer, the three of them could pick out more significant details. She had grey skin, white hair, and sat on a remarkably spartan-looking throne, it’s only embellishment was it’s inlay of bones. “The Lady of Bones herself!” spoke Joseph, in such a tone as one might make when addressing a long-lost family member. “I can't believe I can see her with my own eyes!” The priest raised both his arms directly up in prayer and continued “Oh joyous day! Our judgement comes, and my final reward awaits!” Both Smoke and Aquor looked upon Joshua, but kept their thoughts to themselves. One he was done, Joshua half-turned his head towards his two companions behind him, and say. “What do you say, one more round of chanting, now that we’re in view of Pharasma?” With little left to occupy their minds, the three of them began a slow chant.
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well (it is well) with my soul (with my soul) It is well, it is well with my soul.
Though Rovagug should buffet, though trials should come, Let this blest assurance control, That Lady has regarded my helpless estate, And hath keeps her own watch for my soul.
The line was moving significantly faster now. Perhaps it was because their end goal was now in sight of those in the line, or perhaps that the three of them were focused more on the speed of the line then anything else. Indeed, they soon became close enough to count the number of souls ahead of them. However, once they did, something strange appeared to happen; As each soul approached Phasmara’s gaze, they appeared to wink out of existence, only for the next soul to approach and also wink out in a similar manner. “Phasmara does not like keeping the Infinite Lineup waiting, it seems.” spoke Joseph. Neither Smoke nor Aquor responded, both pairs of eyes fixated on Phasmara herself. To be so close to a deity....it was impossible to describe.
The line was much shorter now. 10 souls were left in front of them. 9 souls. 8 souls. The three of them accepted their fate solemnly. They had already said their goodbyes to each other. 3 souls. 2 souls. 1 souls. Joseph walked forward into Phasmara’s gaze, and was instantly warped out of existence. Aquor took a deep breath and follows him, walking towards the Goddess. A bright light surrounded him. And then, nothing.
For the second time since being stabbed through the chest, Aquor awoke to the sound of his own breathing. Except, this time he was no longer within an infinitely long line, nor was he home. Aquor awoke in a red, silken bed, in what looked to be a circular, stone room. Around him, he saw alchemical labs, bookshelfs worth of knowledge, shelfs full of arcane regents, and tables full of enchanting dust. The floorboards were made of rustic, strong wood, and the ceiling was a beautiful stained glass depiction of a blue scroll, the symbol of the Arcane Order...a symbol that Aquor had not seen in quite some time.
Standing up and getting out of bed, Aquor looked around, confused as to whose house he had been transported into, when a single voice broke the silence. “Aquor?” It spoke. As Aquor turned around, and his eyes fell upon her, his heart skipped a beat. The voice came from a young female human, looking to be in and around her mid 20s. She had rustic ginger hair, and a pair of sparkling blue eyes. On her body, she wore the simple, red and brown off-duty uniform of a Korvosa city guard, and her arms outstretched towards him.
Aquor could only squeak out an “Even?!.....” before his body took over. He ran towards his fiancée in a vigor he had not had for over 50 years. The two of them rushed towards each other, and hugged in a way that a husband might reunite with a long-lost wife. The two of them tightly hugged one another, embarrassing out of love, loss, and happiness. Time stood still for both of them, as the two lovers cried tears of joy, and kissed. The two of them may have stood there , tightly stitched together forever, were it not for a third person to walk into the room. It was a second human women, albeit younger than the first. In her hands she held a crayon, and in the other, a particularly complicated paper on the fundamental nature of the Weave. Upon seeing who Evan was hugging, Zabal Daria Faux dropped what she was holding, and ran over to join them. And for the first time in over 60 years, Aquor was happy.
End of Chapter 2
The smell of warm apple pile filled the wizards tower, as Aquor opened up magically-lit oven, and pulled out the warm, and heavenly smelling pie. At the same time, Evan reached into the countertops to pull out a trifecta of plates, along with a trio of forks, and a handful of woolen napkins. Zabel grabbed placemats from the pantry, and, as a well oiled family, the three of them placed their respective responsibilities onto the table, and all began to dig in at once.
All three were quite tired, as it had been a remarkably long week for all three of them. Once the initial shock had worn off, Evan and Zabel had taken their long-lost fiance and teacher (respectfully) on a tour of their new home, the Olympian Glades of Arborea, a vast plane, consisting of rich forests, fields full of grain, all manner of different types of elves as well as a general sense of freedom and plentiness...Satyrs and other angels should be see through the infinite expanse, eating, drinking, partying, and in the city's, massive markets and temples to deities, both current and forgotten, each tended to by their respective followers. Giant wizards academy's, each filled with thousands of long-dead mages, dueling grounds where warrior sparred with angel, as well as tutelages, where those who died at a young age should be taught the way of the world, just like on the mortal plane.
As they ate, however, Aquor spoke up first. “Forgive me if I don’t understand.” he began. “But if this is Heaven, then why do you still need to go through all the motions to cook a pie, or cast a spell? Surely it should be as simple as clapping your hands, right?” Evan gave a friendly laugh at her partner's nativity. “Maybe on the more hedonistic planes like Elysium that's how things work, but on Arborea everyone pulls their own weight. If you want something done, you need to do it yourself. After all, isn’t it more satisfying to go through all the work required to bake and cook, as opposed to “clapping your hands?”
“Aquor waited till he had swallowed his current bite before responding. “I suppose so. I’ll admit I never was one to shy away from doing actual work. Happy that magic still works though....” He took another bite before continuing. “So what have you two been up to for the last 30 years or so” Aquor said, in a joking tone “Just waiting for me to die, or?”
Zabel giggled and said “Not exactly. Time flows differently in Arborea. While it may have been nearly 30 years for you since you last saw me and Evan , the truth is, it barely feels like a day has passed for either of us. Time flows exactly as fast, or as slow as you'd like. And if you’ve got the magic to cast spells, it allows you to view anyone on the Material plane, at any time. “
Aquor smiled, and took another bite before continuing. “Though, the only thing I don’t completely understand is why? Why’dd I end up here? Up here with you and Zabel?
Zabel and Evan turned towards Aquor, confusion in their eyes. The orcish wizard continued. “I mean, look at me! I’m a necromancer for Sarenre’s sake! I spent my life running from my mistakes, I stopped having hope...I died alone in my bed. Why here? By rights I should be a demonic plaything in the abyss for what I’ve done! I....I don’t deserve to be here. I was a wicked, evil wizard in my life and I don’t see ho-”
As Aquor fell a tug on his robes, he looked down to see Zabel was standing next to him, her short arms pulling on his satin robes, sadness in her eyes. As he sighted her, Aquor let out a sigh, and kneeled down to Zabels level, and gave her a long, fatherly hug. The two of them hugged for what felt like an eternity, before both of them opened their eyes, and Evan helped Aquor up.
“I don’t know.” she said plainly. “I’m not a deity. None of us are.”
“What you did when you were mortal was yours and Phasmara’s business alone. I suppose you could go ask her though.”
Now it was Aquor’s turn to act confused. “Ask her? What do you mean? I was waiting in line, and then, boom, I ended up here on Arborea.” Even gave a slight giggle, and simply nodded, before walking over to one of the doors, and pressing a series of magical glyphs that Aquor didn’t recognize.
A few moments later, the whooshing of air betrayed the appearance of a newcomer, who flew down, and landed in front of Canto residence door. As the outsider made her presence known, Aquor saw a third woman enter into his home.
She had silvery-blonde hair that flowed over and around her pointed elf ears. Hey eyes glowed a mystical green. Her garment was a red and purple dress that flowed around her, like a wizard's gown, that constantly moved, as if by an unseen breeze that seemed to emanate from all points of her skin. Finally, a pair of soft, white, angelic wings that appeared to emanate from her back, causing her to take up almost as much space as a goliath. When she opened her mouth, she spoke with the grace, and dignity of a thousand royal households, and caught Aquor off balance as she pronounced her name. “Quel’rose Dawnblade, what seems to be the problem?”
End of Chapter 3
As the two of them flew over farmland and planes, Quel finished her explanation: “...And so while mortals on the material plane must go through a lot of hoops to speak to the gods, now that you're on the Outer Planes it’s much simpler to speak with the Divine. In fact, for the most part, it’s simply a matter of heading down to the local temple of the deity you wish to speak to, and asking for permission.” Quel’rose said, finishing her explanation. “Truth be told, it used to be much more difficult, we'd never have enough clerics on-staff in order to field all the questions of the petitioners. Nowadays, all you need to do is walk in and pray yourself.”
“Not enough clerics?” questioned Aquor. “But this is Arborea. Surely you’dd have an overabundance of clerics?”
“Not necessarily.” responded Quel’rose. “Few people take up the path of the clergyman on the material plane. Combine that with the fact that Arborea is a very big place, and few people move about, and it should come as no surprise that their are less clerics nowadays than their have ever been.
“Really?” spoke Aquor. “I had no idea. Still, you haven’t entirely told me where we’re going.”
“We’re headed to one of the largest temples on this plane to the Lady of the Graves, “The Temple of the Last Prayer”
“Temple of the Last Prayer? Sounds ominous”
“It’s the largest temple to the Goddess around, so named because its where most faithfull end up when they first arrive at Arborea. It’s that building, right over there.”
The two of them descended from the air, and landed in front of the imposing structure. As Aquor stood at the entrance to the cathedral, he felt, perhaps for the first time in a quite long while, dwarfed and insignificant next to the totality of it’s majesty. It’s massive, gothic cathedral arches were plumed with purple-stained glass windows, it’s central fixture, a massive, unmoving grandfather clock, pointing in all twelve directions at once, a symbol of both the eternality, and never-changing aspect of both life and death, with a pair of spearlike, pointed towers that seemed to spiral above the clouds themselves. The building itself was made of simple, carved purple brick, the foundation of countless homes,holding countless lives, with each individual brick it’s own, incredible story. For now, however, the pair of tall, double-doors, easily big enough for a dragon to walk through with space to spare, opened up, allowed his own, meager, small, and thoroughly intimidated form into the chapel.
Before he could react, however, a familiar-sounding voice called out to him, from nearby the church. “Welcome to The Last Prayer, where all worshipers and lost souls are welcome!” As Aquor turned his head towards the sound of the voice, he saw what appeared to be a young man in his near 30s. At first, Aquor could not recognize him, but when the man turned his back towards Aquor, the old wizard recognised the hairstyle of his old friend almost immediately. “Joseph!” he called out.
Joseph was confused to hear his real name called out by one of the apparent random souls entering into the cathedral, but as the figure drew closer, more lights began to light up in the priest's head. “Aquor....?” he said to himself at first, confused, followed by an “Aquor! Good Gods you're uglier then I thought you'd be!”
Aquor moved over to the priest he had not seen in weeks, the two of them seeing each others faces for the first time. Truth be told, it felt strange for both of them. However, their jubilation upon seeing each other canceled out any sense of negativity.
“Joseph!” spoke Aquor “By the Gods, am I happy to see you here.”
“And I as well” came the reply. “Phasmara smiles upon you, it seems, to find you here among her majesty. What brings you into her grace this day?” As Aquor explained the previous hours worth of events to his old friend, Joseph’s expression grew grim at first, he placed his priestly hands into his pockets, but as the old orc he had spend countless time with prior to arriving in the upper planes explained his predicament, the priests expression managed to warm up.
“Truth be told, Aquor, after what you told me I’m surprised to see you up here as well. Still, that's nothing a little prayer can't fix. Come with me.” And so Aquor and Quel followed Joseph as the priest walked the three of them inside the church as he spoke, light shining on them from above from the mile-high glass windows. He lead them through a number of smaller corridors before they arrived at what appeared to be a simple, featureless room, with wooden walls, floors and ceilings.
“Just as a cleric must pray to prepare spells in the morning, I advise you to sit down, meditate, and relax. Phasmara answers all questions in time.”
Joseph kneeled down on one knee, like a knight might before a noble. Quel took up a simple sitting position near the door. Aquor sat on his legs, like he might when preparing spells.
Joseph spoke up, now in a calm, relaxing voice.
“Breath in....and out. In and out. In....2....3.....4. Out....2...3....4...In....2....3...4 Out...2...3...4.Like the sides of a square. In...2....3....4, Out...2....3...4....”
End of Chapter 4
Light. From every direction. The wood of the floor transformed into clouds, a light breeze brushing in from the west. Aquor attempted to open his eyes...but an unseen force held them shut. He was certainly not in kansas anymore. The sound of warm, heated water, pour into an unseen glass filled the soundscape.
“Hello?” said Aquor, perhaps fearful of a response.
Rather than receive a reply, his closed eyes received a vision. A vision that of his mother, shortly thereafter he was born. She looked at the young baby boy with loving, motherly eyes, even as she sat in a cage, surrounded by other captives from the orcish raiders.
The vision ended, and Aquor took a few moments to process it. “Where am I?” he asked.
Another vision filled his mind. That of the experience he had had not too long ago, of waking up in a strange, purple plane, and being shuffled along into an infinitely long line, and meeting Joseph for the first time.
“Who are you?” he asked.
This vision was that of a church, an entire congregation, made up of equal parts men and women, young and old, newborn and nearly bedridden, each of them singing gospel in harmony towards an altar, dedicated with both birth certificates and pictures of the departed. A single glass of water sat on the altar, seemingly dancing along with the singing.
“Does.....does this mean I can ask you a question?”
Aquor saw a vision of himself again, doing some basic math homework. On it was the question 2+2. A young Aquor picked up the pencil and wrote in a clear script “4”
“I....I am, I’m terribly sorry, m-My Lady I shall not waste your time, I-”
Another vision of her mother, towards a crying child. She spoke in hushed tones “It’s ok. It’s allright. Calm down. You're safe now.”
That last vision caught Aquor off guard, as long-lost thoughts flooded his head. “Where is she now? Is she alright?”
A vision, not of Arboreta, but of the Seven Mounting Heavens filled his mind. It zeroed in on the third layer, where Aquor saw his mother, a face he had not seen in over 40 years helping a group of halflings prepare, and wrap up food for the winter.
As the visan faded, Aquor considered asking his...current guest, if he should go see his mother. He stopped himself however. For he had bigger questions to ask.
“Lady of Graves....why did you judge me to end up in the Upper Planes? Why was I not damned to eternal torment in Hell?”
The vision this time was that of a confused puppy, tilting it’s head sideways, in confusion.
“I....I do not desire to burn for my crimes, no. I...I am just confused. I don’t think I ever made anything of my life. My entire life, I was running I was fleeing, I was chased by angry mobs, I....”
The next vision, Aquor saw Nolith, his massive, Enlarged body breaking down a nearby tower as they escaped an underground cave. He saw himself gifting a puzzle box to a old, black-cloaked fighter friend. He saw himself and Blake high five each other as they set up a campsite together. He saw him and Zabel working tirelessly through the night, both on scribing scrolls, and on his floating chair invention. He saw himself lift his Staff of Illumination into the air, blinding and destroying the vampire-queen, and nearly killing himself and Belore in the process.
“But.....but what about the necromancy? I raised armies! Defiled graves! Ripped souls away from you...your judgement?”
Aquor saw a man he did not recognize laying on a bed as a priest pronounced the man dead. The man was carried out to a church graveyard and dumped into a massive pile of similar bodies, without fanfare, or ceremony. The mass grave was covered, and Aquor could see hundreds of sad, sad souls escaping their bodys. Snow felt upon the unmarked graves, and melted an uncountable number of times, until Aquor saw himself walk over to above the pile of bodies, place black obligation upon the pile, and cast an Animate Dead spell, creating dozens of skeletons. Aquor recognized these skeletons as a group he had raised much earlier in life, when he was still toying with the idea of lichdom. Aquor saw as these skeletons followed him around, not seeing combat, no, but being useful in other ways. Serving as butlers, or entertaining children. As sentries and guards to cities. And despite the fear and distrust they provoked, how his skeletons never fought back against the distrusting population, and continued their ardent defence of the cities that Aquor and his party inhabited at the time.
“But my creations died with me! I left nothing of value on the material plane....nothing!”
Each of Aquor’s eyes were lit up with a different image. In his left eye, he saw a young half-orc who looked remarkably similar to himself cutting down what looked to be a lighting-using hag, along with a party of adventurers. His vision closed in on the half orc, until he was able to see a holy symbol of Sheylin upon his neck, inscribed with a small, but still clearly legible “Property of Riel Canto.”
His other eye painted a much different picture. He saw a young human girl, furiously studying a book, surrounded by arcane tomes, including both his own spell books, and a number of books he recognized from his own house. The blue skinned woman walked in on the barely 7 year old girl, struggling to read the technical manual, and, absentmindedly mentioned, “What's that you're reading?” The little girls heart skipped a beat, and she was momentarily caught off guard. “What....Master?” The blue women walked over to the other side of the desk, and said. “The book you’ve got. What’s it about?” The girl , now looking up into blueish purple eyes, responded “Uhhh...well, Trixie...It’s a....mostly theoretical. It’s a volume about manipulating luck..fate..and other sub-strata of divination magic.” Trixie responded in an equally disinterested tome “And why are you reading it?” Confused, the girl responded “Because Xol put it on the reading list for this week, and it’s part of the....
Trixie cut her prodigy off. “Xol is dead, Wendy. Your blade pierced his skull, and impaled into his brain. He passed pretty much as soon as you left the room. “ The little girl looked at her master, horrified. Trixie, however, continued on. “Xol was one of my most trained instructors, ever since Vol passed. I saw that dwarf take on entire towns worth of warriors. Command legions. And yet, you took him down with a single knife to the skull.”
Wendy began to show visible worry lines across her face as Trixie continued to talk, however suddenly, she seemed to change tones. “I’m impressed. I know few within my ranges with the balls to be able to take out Xol, especially during a training exercise. You were not one of them. And you proved me wrong. Perhaps you’ve gotten better at things then I thought. As a result, with Xol dead, I don’t think I have anyone really able to continue training you. As a result, while your a few years too early, I think I’ve just the thing for you to prove your skills.......”
Aquor regained his senses. He had children...real, living descendants. And although he had never met them...at least one of them appeared to be going out, and making a difference in the world. Aquor felt a wave of relief, but also guilt at the little girl he had scene. Still, he had a few more things to ask.
“Does that cancel it out? I had children, and saved a few people...but surely all the other things...”
His eyes received a new vision, this time of himself, Ruthgar, Fred, and Pepehel, bursting into a cultist base. Aquor recognised this building...it had been where the cultists who had captured Prince Holder had hid in during his rescue of the baby.
The next vision was that of a battle, a burning, wooden outpost. All had abandoned the outpost, except for Aquor....and the leader of the Golden Hawks. Aquor conjured a ball of fire to engulf the mercenary leader-turned-bandit,as the outpost fell atop him....though Pepehel pulled him out alive.
The third vision he saw himself sitting in the halls of the Arcane Order, his half-built phylactery directly in front of him. With a sigh, Aquor saw himself grunt, grab a hold of the crystal, and smash it directly into the ground. Over a hundred thousand gold pieces worth of work....destroyed in less then a second.
The next was of Aquor, standing defiantly against the hobgoblin legions as he and Pepehel helped to evacuate the crumbling city, saving thousands of dwarven lives.
In the next, he saw the port city of Tribor, where he first met Zabel, a lonely, and familyless girl, where Aquor offering her not only shelter, but meaning, and connection. He saw Blake, Nissa, and Edward, people who he had not seen in decades, but witnesses the connection, and hope that he gave those people.
Aquor saw his writings, his essays. Not while he penned them no, but saw them read by aspiring wizards, his scrolls copyed, and his spells, from Hex of Accuracy, to the simple Pants, were taught and learned around the world.
Now older, Aquor saw himself walking alongside Nolith, next to the Queen that his robotic friend had pledged his allegiance to Two people who could not be more different, but in that moment, the closest of allies, with a grudging respect for one another.
The next vision was significant. Aquor saw Ruthgar, nearly 60 years old, dressed not for battle, but for formality, sitting in what looked to be a courtroom. Next to him was a human equally dressed. Both wore the tanamout “Red Band” that marked their mercenary allegiance. Next to them in the desk of the prosecutor was a suit-toting gnome, next to a grief-stricken half-elf. As the murmurs filled the courtroom, the judge, a ageing human, brought his gavel down to quit the rumors. “Order.” he spoke. “Order in the courtroom.”
“Major Ruthguar of the Red Band mercenary company,” the judge began "After ample deliberation, I officially find you guilty of the murder of Justice Clarence Thomas. Due to the particularly heinous nature of the crime, I believe the standard sentence is not appropriate. instead, i am sentencing you to death under the Murder of Officials act, to be carried out by the lawful church of Iomedae whose code you have most seriously broken. May she show justice upon your soul.”
His final vision was that of himself in his elderly years, years before he had chosen to move up north, when he had taken a final tiefling appetence, a girl named Elixir, in the city of Westcrown. Their had been a knock on the door, and a request to open a strange, sealed pod. Inside were documents, written in infernal. And in translating those documents, and handing off the results to a resistance group known as The New Vanguard, he ultimately helped them lead a rebellion to usher forth the liberation of the city from devilish possession.
It took some time for Aquor to regain his own mind after the barrage of visions, and even longer for Aquor to feel his body floating once more. Silence filled the air. After a pause, however, the answer was clear, and his cynicism seemed to melt away like butter. It all made sense now. All the puzzle pieces fell into place.
However, he was not yet done seeking knowledge. He had but one, final, question. “If Ruthguar is to die, my children to carry on my legacy, my story finished...then what is to happen to me now? What happens to us after we die? Shall I just fade into nothingness? What happens now?”
Rather than another vision, Aquor felt a massive wave of light emanating from all around him It shined brightly enough through his eyes, and through his entire being that for, but a brief moment, he was light. And then....nothing.
Epolouge:
Absalom Station, Year 107 After Gap
In the wings of the Elfast Memorial Hospital, Dismas Neil Arkhipov was not having a good day. Pain rushed through his chest, and his lungs skipped a beat. His cybernetic arm twitched and he couldn't help but continuously extend and retreat his fingers. His therapist had told him that implants like his helped to relieve stress, but he was far from unstressed. His wife was in premature labor, and while modern medicine meant she was far from unlikely to die due to any sort of complications, the mere fact that she was a Lashunta meant that her pregnancy was far from ordinary. She was far more delicate than any human woman, and the fact that she had married a human was even more troubling.
“Humanity First” was what they called themselfs. Hardcore xenophobics they were, and they had attacked Surrah, his wife, while they were on their way to the hospital. While modern medicine certainly meant that his wife had a fair chance of surviving, their child even less so. “Hybrids” as the newsvids called them, or mixing of human and nonhuman blood, always caused complications. Dismas shook his head. It wasn’t his fault he found Surrah to be as beautiful as she was. She was “the one” He knew it. And so he twitched his fingers once more.
“Mr Arkhipov...” came a distinctly human voice over the loudspeaker. ‘Please proceed to room 12-B.”Dismas stood himself up, and grabbed his wooden walking stick. Some people called him old fashioned for using such an archaic piece of technology, when walking poles, wheelchairs, or even full corrective-surgeries were available for pennies on the dollar. But Dismas was never one to trust “Fancy binky-shit” After all, a cane never ran out of battery. Nor did it ever need to be varnished, or upgraded to the latest model. Dismas had used the same cane for the last few decades, and he was planning on useing it for a few more decades before he got a new one. As the hermetically sealed doors opened, the first thing Dismas saw was Surrah, both alive, and conscious. His face beamed with smiles as he walked over to her. As he got closer, Surrah moved her left arm to reveal a tiny, tiny baby, no more than half the size of her arm, furiously sucking at her breast. As Dismas saw his first child, he nearly exploded with joy, and rushed over to hug Surra.
The two of them spent about six hours in the hospital after that, mostly for tests done to make sure that, yes, their new bundle of joy was happy, healthy, and free of common genetic abnormalities children occasionally get from space-births. They also stayed in order to to write out the literal mountain of paperwork, required for a new birth on the station,after all, a new birth ment both tax breaks for the parents, but ID cards, and schooling forms to be registered. The Arkhipov’s waited long and hard before writing their answer to the last, and perhaps most important box in the whole form. After a good few moments of discussion, however, the two of them settled on the name “Jaeden Fjord Arkhipov.”
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