B.T.V. -- Session 15 Prelude: 'Twixt an Ethera Sea

A scratch of metal on metal. Symbols indecipherable appeared on the air before them. Hard as any might look, if there was a metal nature to where the ‘writing’ sat on the air, it was going to remain unseen. This did not count as unusual. The space they sailed through was a place of similar oddities. The ethera was stranger than anywhere most of them could remember encountering. The stylus that drew the figures upon the unseen metallic surface could be seen. A small normality in a sea of nonconformity. The sharp, non-writing end of the stylus whisked about frantically, attempting to keep up with the staccato stop-start of its master’s words, occasionally causing the air it sliced to protest.



Within a long pause, the stylus moved higher and inscribed with much metallic grinding and vaporous whistling, the number ‘6’.










“Six is a number filled with meaning. It is a perfect number.




We are Six.




Each can be counted upon. Each are uniquely gifted to stand as a member of our Principality. Each is accoutered to stand upon their Principles. Each are each a prince — and One.




They are Three. Individuals that do Shadow’s bidding.




We are Three. Ones that do Time’s work.




I divine that no One of us knows more than Two of the others well. Two multiplied by Three gives us the perfect number of Six.




Each One is more than comfortable alone. Simultaneously there are Two divisors: Time and Shadow. They make Two divisions of Six. One and Two and Three makes, Six. One Times, Two Times, Three makes; Six. No number smaller can manage this magic. Six is a perfect number.”




A strangled noise came from deep in Jack’s chest.

Having interrupted he said, “You don’t have to convince me of your reasons for employing this number as a favourite. You are forever connected to it on the many worlds that know you.”




“My intention is to give anyone here that is disturbed by our progress through this place something to be reassured by.”




“I think we’re all capable of finding our own ways to cope.”




“As you desire. Some people cannot be made to appreciate reality, even when it stares back at them.” Asmodeus recalled his stylus to a waiting breast pocket.

The Silhouette's master hadn’t left the wheelhouse for hours.

Taxing as the course had been, Assurbanipal could be said to be enjoying the challenging voyage. He had already brought the great ship through a place where a gale blew only from the main deck of the ship, upwards. The Silhouette had dropped precipitously as a result of this, but he had been able to turn the vessel “into the wind” by cajoling the vessel to suspend itself upside-down.






Demoness and first mate, Scintilla the Succubus asked, “How long to the Point of No Return?”

“Excited to get amongst it?”




“It is said that demons guard it. I am glad that I finally have a chance to help you, Captain.”




“That’s not why you are with me, Scintilla Hellgram.”




“It used to be.”




“That was before. I have grown tremendously fond of you.”




“Happens to me all the time.”




“I didn’t say I found you irresistible. Just... I like your swagger is all.”




The succubus batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly at the captain, who took no notice. She smiled to herself and got busy with his paperweights. Assurbanipal had collected many of these in his travels through the Realms and Worlds. He used them to hold down his charts against the ship’s movements.






“Woman, you will be catching whatever foul vapours this damned place offers. Must you display yourself quite so generously? We have passengers, don’t you know?”




“It’s a perfectly standard privateer’s shirt, Captain.”



“Not the way you almost wear it. Wherever did you get one so large?”



“The Orca who was wearing it wanted me to try it on. Who am I to refuse?”



“Scurrilous siren.”




“About that...”




“Mm-mm?” Assurbanipal was peering ahead of the ship’s prow.




“Don’t forget it I mean.”




“Forget it? You aren’t easily forgotten, woman. If you think your powers can help us at any point, feel at liberty to use them. You are not enslaved to me.”




Scintilla stared at the man at the helm of the Silhouette for a few seconds as his words echoed within her multi-coloured heart.




“You release me?”




“I’ve never chained a Profane in my life. I wouldn’t likely start with a fiend like you, Miss Hellgram.”




“I thought --”

“-- Whoever heard of a succubus that acted on anything but instinct? Thought? Surely you haven’t begun to stoop that low? Whatever use would you be to me if you did?”


“Most are happy when I stoop and so many questions. I will use my female prerogative and refuse to answer any of them.”


“Your tears are heady perfume if I recall correctly.”


“I wasn’t about to waste my tears on the likes of you, Captain.”


“Good-O! Save them for trouncing our enemies. They’ll never know what hit 'em. You’re better than a broadsides salvo and make thrice the fire.”


“No prize taking then? Fires will probably sink whatever we come up against.”

“No prizes, not from here. The place is too odd to even be taking away booty. Best to tell the lads and lasses to mind that they remember that.”


“What about the blood that gets spilled? There’s bound to be some.”


“I should never have introduced you to Etlaff. The man’s incorrigible.”

“He only does what he was born to do. I though he was fascinating.”


“You would.”


“Professional interest, mind you, Captain. I could never consider seducing a vampire.”


“That’s not how you were acting, as I recall. You couldn’t keep from going on and on about how his red fog made him so alluring and mysterious. The man’s a bounder, without respect for boundaries, I tell you.”


“Well, he only wanted a taste of me.”


“I daresay! If I hadn’t happened by, who knows what would have been unleashed upon an unsuspecting dragaeran public.”


“Vampires and empires could stand with some shaking up.”


“Miss Hellgram, have you been using those Profane ears to listen in to my private conversations?”


“Only when they’re interesting to me.”


“I don’t need a spyglass to discern that you’d have to listen in on all of ‘em to know if any are of interest to you.”


“That’s how it works out, pretty much.”


“I know you can’t help being saucy, but you really are too much.”


“It’s a curse.”


“I s’ppose it is... Use those inky, flashing eyes of yours and tell me if you see a pinnacle off the portside?”


“Su, Captain.”


“Su?”


“I meant, Aye, Captain. I’m trying to go native.”


“I don’t know if like the sounds of that.”


“You’re the Admiral, Captain.”


“Mmm, what do you make of it?”

“I’d say it’s a little petty of you to stop me saying, “Su", like the locals do.”


“Damnation woman, I mean the pinnacle. Try to keep propriety and sea regulations in your head will you?”


“It’s a deadfall, Captain-Sir!”


“That’s better... At ease, you’ll give someone ideas or palpitations with your chest thrust out like that.”


“Sea regulations, Captain-Sir!”


“If I wanted you at attention, I’d have commanded it.”

“Command me... anything.”

“My mind needs no boggling, the ethera is doing a damned good job of that without your breathy invitations. Take a squadron and give it a safe distance-once over, lass. I will have the Silhouette give you covering fire if a bombardment is necessary.”


Scintilla was pleased to be given a squadron to herself. She let Assurbanipal know it in no uncertain terms as she left the cabin.






On the pinnacle, about two-thirds of the way up, the Illithyd outpost was in a state of calm, collective readiness. It had been too long since interlopers had gotten lost near the pinnacle. The mortal vessels brought almost too many minds to understand toward the outpost. The various commanders, who numbered twelve, knew that this was opportunity. Their masters at the Burrowed would reward them for such a collection of uneaten minds. It didn't truly matter if most of the minds were insane. Madness offered its own special delights tot the Illithyd. As for the few sane minds aboard the vessels... that was almost too much to consider. No one sane would travel to the pinnacle. The Illithyd moved their attendants to positions where the seritonial nets could be cast to tangle the greatest number of minds.











The twelve had conferred and agreed that no thought would reach the elders until the mortal fleet was bottled. One of the twelve considered his contacting the Bit as nothing to do with this decision. He was ML’Lantivvarshith. He had ambitions. He had many dreams. Not all were the dreams of the minds he had tasted, some were his own. Not all Illithyd dreamt. ML’Lantivvarshith was fated for more than these others if his dreams could be made real. He turned to the intermediary. The tiefling was nearly too tempting. Its mannerisms revealed a special kind of brain, one that ML’Lativvarshith wanted to taste. Only his dreams kept him from devouring the tiefling where she stood.


“Tiefling.”

“’Varshith?”

“That is not my name. You will suffer if you call me this with any within thought’s distance.”


“I know there are none close enough to hear or to sense my thoughts.”


“Yes, your gifted link with ethera... Delectable skill.”


“Once we have made the moves we discussed and if they work out for us, I may give you another taste. You’d enjoy that?”
“Severely, yes. It is painful to remember what you gave me the last time. Tieflings are wondrous. I would have more of you.”


“Careful, Varshith. No more than I can spare.”


“I meant I would have more Tieflings here. To --”

“-- I can well imagine.”

“Your imagination is savoury. I can detect its scent wafting to me on the ethera. Wrapped within it there is trepidation and something else that I have not tasted before.”


“It’s probably disgust.”


“No, your disgust I have tasted already. You must have forgotten. Mortal minds forget easily. One of their intricacies we find appealing.”


“Then it must be anticipation.”


“Anticipation... T-ss, I would feel this again. I would savour it.”


“Reality beckons, Illithyd. You’ll have to wait.”


“Now?”


“The mortal fleet? It carries the ones I told you about. The ones that were foretold to me by the Doctor.”


“Doctor... Unsavoury mortal.”

“That’s what makes me useful to you, so I feel otherwise toward them.”


“Perhaps a small scraping from your horn? That I can discern how you feel about the Doctor?”


“I said later. First you must gather your trusted tentacles or whatever you call them. It’s time.”


“I will be concentrated on this. What will you be thinking about while I am gone?”


“I’ll think of something.”


The Illithyd’s eyes glistened, a sign to the knowledgeable of Illithyd autonomous responses that her words had excited and hungered him. His robes swirled about him such was his pace down the corridor to his waiting host of followers. The tiefling’s thoughts still clung to his vestibular receptors. The more astute of his Illithyd host could taste her and grew animated. Their mandibular tentacles heaved about, which drew inquiries from the rest. Soon all within the departure hall were ready to welcome the mortal vessels. Some of the host grew impatient with the speed this occurred and in an act of dignified leadership, ML’Lantivvarshith allowed them to be ingested and leave in vessels to greet the oncoming mortals.