MORE BRAIN MEAT!
GIMME DND EXPERTS!
I want to have an expert on Drow history before I continue. Guess what I'm planning to do with Lolth, but I want to explore the Drow capital and stuff, get into the hierarchy and crazy backstabbing drow culture.
If you think that Momonga leveled up too fast, well, it is kind of fair considering he killed so many Demons and a few stray mortals… so he should already meet the exp requirement. Not gonna go too focused on game mechanics as it's too janky to reflect actual combat and stuff.
Go to mah p/atre/o/n dot com/ i4md347h
"Ah, welcome! To think there are more of you, come, come have a seat! We are preparing the boar for a grand feast! Though I am ashamed to say that I am not a great cook."
Edowin, the white-haired dwarf, welcomed the group that arrived.
Tavlana stared at the butchered boar on the stone, stomach split open and intestines pulled by the hands of the other two humans.
What was strange was that there was not a single speck of blood from the corpse and its organs…
"...Correct me if I am hallucinating, but is that a mummy?" Shadowheart pointed at the inconspicuous Withers standing on the corner of the shoreline.
"Oh, don't mind him. He is an odd acquaintance; better to ignore him," Astarion waved off Withers.
Astarion updated them on the situation.
The three were members of a new cult called the Absolute. Momonga speculated that the cult was a Mindflayer scheme with an unknown goal, and the tadpoles were somehow tampered so that everyone infected with a parasite would… not expire.
The dwarf had a tadpole in his skull for weeks, meaning that they did not have to worry about sprouting tentacles.
The plan was to play along, extract information on the cult, and then ambush them at midnight.
Why midnight? Because Astarion wanted them to set up camp for them first and save them the time and energy.
"...Not a single symptom. Strange, no fever, no change in skin color… should we test the other potion on him to see if it works?" Dirge whispered to Tavlana.
"Devious… Tempting to find out," Tavlana hummed with approval.
"Mind if I join you? I know a thing or two about preparing a fresh catch, if I do say so myself," Wyll, the Blade of the Frontiers, joined the group.
Wyll was a strange man, Tavlana could recognize another Warlock at first glance. Eldritch Blast wasn't something anyone could learn, minus some estranged wizards wanting to prove that spells shouldn't be locked into professions.
He was heroic and selfless, but Tavlana was sure as the Nine Hells that whatever he pacted with wasn't an Archfey.
Laezel was staring at the Githyanki that walked with Astarion, squinting at her.
She didn't say a word when she saw her fellow Gith because she was confused why this one was following the pale elf.
Her hairstyle was like braided rows of short hair with trenches, like a farmland of crop in neat rows, the rows of hair ending in a tied ponytail. Healthy yellow skin and dark-green devil horn tattoos painted from the left of her left eye and right of her right eye.
Was she a Githzerai? One of the enemies of Vlaakith?
"Hshar'lak."
It was Gith meaning 'the unforgivable,' a word for traitors, especially for the Githzerai.
The Githzerai turned to Laezel.
"Yes?"
"What business do you have here, dog of Zerthimon?"
"Vlaakith gha'g shkath zai."
Laezel raised her eyebrows at the language.
This Gith said 'For the honor and glory of Vlaakith.'
"...Kaincha. I have misspoken. I mistook you for one of Zerthimon."
"I understand. Sina'zith of Creche S're."
"Laezel of Creche K'liir," Laezel acknowledged.
"I was fortunate to not receive a Mindflayer parasite. I am willing to assist you in reaching the Zaith'isk."
Laezel sighed in relief to hear those words from her kin. Although her current companions were helpful, they doubted the workings of Vlaakith. Still, she was tolerable… and was intrigued by the revelation that the tadpoles were different from standard, meaning their feared expiration date was inconclusive.
They would not turn into Mindflayers as expected, but there were still concerns regarding the new trigger… if time would not end them, then what?
They proceeded to make their camp for the night.
Wyll was helping Edowin and his siblings preparing for the fest.
Honestly, today's entire ordeal consumed a lot of their energy, even Laezel admitted to her hunger when they prepared to roast the exsanguinated boar.
The boar was perfectly bloodless, what kind of technique allowed such a swift and complete exsanguination?
The boar was skinned, the belly fat was thoroughly fried over a large metal pan Wyll brought from the Tiefling camp.
As the sun was reaching dusk, the group gathered around the large fire, each eating their respective portions.
Astarion quickly ate their bloodless ham in his tent and joined them in the campfire. The two that followed him, not knowing that they were meat puppets, sat behind him as they began their discussion with the three Absolute siblings.
"You three were farmers? How did you transition from simple, hard working farm hands into cultists?" Dirge asked Edowin.
"That's the strangest thing. Our dainty farm couldn't handle much due to poor weather and soil. It had enough when bandits jumped our farm and took what little was left. And then came the Absolute cultists, they picked us up when we had nothing. That was how we got to Moonrise Towers, you know?"
Edowin explained while biting on a piece of bacon, chewing on the pork.
Gale was a masterful chef, able to smoke the bloodless meat skewered in a spitroast over the fire. The meal was sublime.
"Mmmm, Astarion, this pork… good job," Tavlana had to compliment the pale elf.
"Oh, not that much trouble. Momonga carried it to camp, then froze it with an [Ice Ball] spell. Never heard of the spell, but he froze a pillar."
"Aye, it kept the meat good and fresh. He melted it before he left with Astarion," Brynna, one of the siblings, added.
Tavlana was starting to like this Momonga, a helpful enigmatic member of the party. Still, she could tell that Gale wanted to meet with him more than ever judging by his expression of interest.
"Alright. Anyways, how did you get the wor-I mean, how did you become a True Soul?" Tavlana asked next, almost blundered.
"Oh, it was marvelous. I was chosen, you see. Climbed up Moonrise Towers and gazed into the Absolute… she was beautiful. My words would only slander her if I were to describe her beauty."
Tavlana used the parasite.
She picked up on this when Laezel used it to speak to her telepathically and when Wyll shared his memories with everyone on their first introduction.
{Laezel. Thoughts on this?}
She spoke as quietly as she could, having experience with using telepathy due to her powers from the Great Old One.
{The istik is clearly brainwashed by the Ghaik. We should just kill him. His siblings are a lost cause.}
{Or… we can use him.}
{How?} Laezel was impatient.
{We can see if we can remove the parasite. I kinda wanted to test the all-cure potion just to see what would happen.}
Laezel looked at Tavlana with a look of surprise. She looked impressed, no, she could feel a slight tinge of respect on using him as a sacrificial lamb.
She glanced at Dirge, Dirge finished eating his fill of pan-fried boar belly, and nodded.
Dirge nodded, receiving the signal as she glanced at Astarion.
Both getting up from their seats, Laezel understood the message as she walked around Edowin.
"So… Where is this Moonrise Towers exactly?" Tavlana asked.
"Pardon?" Edowin blinked.
"How did you get to Moonrise Towers?"
"Well… My friend, didn't you meet with the giant spider centaur?" Edowin asked.
It was the last thing he said before Laezel grabbed her sword and slammed the butt of it against the back of his neck while his siblings were strangled from behind by Astarion and Dirge.
"No, no I did not… None of us did, you poor bastard…" Tavlana sighed.
It was going to be a long night.
For the first time in thousands of years, ships sailed the bloody waters of the River Styx from Avernus' docks.
Zariel's flying fortress was guided by the navigating infernal iron warships, each piloted by a skilled Bone Devil navigator to travel the amnesia-inducing waters.
Merrenoloths were untrustworthy and would sometimes lead their passengers into staged ambushes, so the Devils trained their navigators. The pathways of the River Styx were malleable, constantly shifting under unknown supernatural influences. The surface made the mystical water move at a sedated leisure, a deceptive mask that hid the sub-current forces that could pull boats and passengers under.
However, some were hired by coin and threats of death should they betray them to pilot the fleet.
Zariel had been planning this invasion for years, for the inevitable day that she could move the stage of the Blood War to the Abyss. Her offensive strategy was to establish a permanent or long-lasting portal to Avernus where the rest of the Legions wait to cross through the planes and invade Pazunia, using the souls of the River Styx as fuel to power these portals.
Each leading ship was pulled by enslaved Styx Dragons, collared by infernal chains. The most well-constructed ships were reserved for this moment.
The War Room was filled with Pit Fiends, some Cambions, an Orthon, Barbazu/Bearded Devils, Osyluth/Bone Devils, and a few Cornugons. Warlocks were present, sapient humanoids garbed in wizard robes, the most capable and skilled of Zariel's contracted servants.
Not every Pit Fiend was the same. The room was large enough to fit even their gargantuan size. One of the Pit Fiends wore a Roman helmet, a galea, of pure infernal iron, all metal, and no decoration on the crest atop the helmet. This Pit Fiend was obese and wielded a gold, flat staff, not cylindrical like a regular staff, flat and thick like an ingot. The gold staff was tipped with a perpendicular cross and devil wings of gold standing above the cross, two dots of hellfire glowing, one between the raised wings of gold and another at the intersection of the cross.
It was in the same infernal room where Momonga signed the contract with Zariel. Lava was in the background, and a halo of fire illuminated the room from above. Heads of Tanar'ri demons were on the walls.
"Tell me about the Yugoloths. I am concerned about their interference."
Momonga stood beside Zariel, having the greatest of Zariel's favor for slaughtering the Tanar'ri scourge.
His knowledge of politics came from the contract, magically infused into his mind. The boons would be permanent if Momonga fulfilled his contract and granted Zariel sustainable control of Pazunia.
Until now, Zariel has been discussing war strategies and tactics in the war room, expecting opposition from the Tanar'ri, ranging from Demon Lords to possible Evil Gods of the Abyssor Baator. To her knowledge, Zariel assured that the Gods that took residence in the Abyss wouldn't interfere as they would rather have most of the Demons be occupied dealing with the Blood War.
The Gods of the upper planes would also not interfere, probably spoken from Zariel's experience with Lathander, the God she once served. This meant the Heavens, like Mount Celestia, would watch the battle as they always had, but this time, Zariel had their undivided attention.
"The Yugoloths would do everything possible to tip the scales back into balance. Those mragreshams have fleeced us of our coin for too long! Years, they have played both sides of the Blood War to fill their coffers with treasures! They will not lose their greatest source of revenue, going so far as to unforgivable, shameless lengths!" Thadrik, the pit fiend general, followed.
Yugoloths were fiends of Hades, of the Neutral Evil Alignment. They differed from the Tanar'ri and the Baatezu, creatures fighting for material wealth like gold coins. They were backstabbing bastards who would easily betray their contractors for the highest bidder.
Zariel employed the Yugoloths when she could, and the same goes for the Demon Lords of the Abyss, the Demon Lords making use of the Merrenoloths, reaper-clothed boatmen of the Abyss that acted like Charon from Greek Mythology.
Actually, there was also a Merrenoloth called Charon, one of the most powerful of Yugoloths.
"We would probably expect the Altraloths to arrive at Pazunia… Grand Commander Suzuki, will they be a problem?" She asked.
Momonga still couldn't get used to being called 'commander.' It felt good, and he had the experience from Yggdrasil, the most competitive and somewhat toxic game. He and his guildmates organized a massive defense against an invasion of Players and their NPC monsters and successfully repelled them.
"If what I learned about them from the contract is true… No." Momonga was sure that he could slaughter them as quickly as the Tanar'ri.
"But I don't like surprises. If I were on the defense after a tragic defeat, I would try something desperate to maintain the status quo and recover from the losses… Do they have any artifacts or items capable of widespread destruction?" Momonga asked.
"Such weapons of mass destruction are seldom used. The Tanar'ri look down on our machines of war. They take filthy pride in their power and numbers over weaponized constructs, but I will consider your suggestion," Zariel shook her head.
"What about the Yugoloths? Wouldn't they use this opportunity to sell such a weapon to the Demons?" Momonga asked.
"Given their personalities, they mostly would. Probably at a hundred times the price," the bone devil dryly remarked.
"Magical items of that magnitude are scarce and coveted. The Yugoloths would rather keep it for themselves than sell such a valuable item. No, Altraloths would be waiting for us in Pazunia," the Orthon commander gave his opinion.
"Then I will have no problems. But we need to catch them off guard."
Momonga pointed at the map.
"I suggest a two-pronged assault. I have an idea."
The idea came from the repeated attempts to break through his anti-Divination wards.
"Assuming that they wouldn't seal any teleportation."
"You can seal teleportations?" Zariel asked.
"...You can't?" Momonga asked back.
"[Dimensional Anchor] and [Proof against Teleportation] can seal such movements. Abjuration schools of wizards specialize in that magic."
One was a single-target ranged spell, and the second conjured a sphere that prevents teleportation from leaving or entering the sphere, though the latter could be overcome.
"...I will summon a [Gate] to the backline of the armies. On my signal, have some Imps to attempt scrying magic on my location after they set up position at these points."
Momonga pointed at the map. He would abuse this mechanic to bomb the Demon hordes and sow chaos.
They have no sense of order. The armies were directed through fear and intimidation, tribal horde tactics.
Even if the Tanar'ri were creatures of Chaos, they needed some direction to win a war, and Momonga would make sure that these vermin would suffer.
"You're planning to unleash your explosive spells on them from afar? Oh my, a devious way of using your violent wardings," Mizora looked impressed.
Everyone in the room nodded with approval at this strategy.
"...I just realized something," Momonga said. "It would be unnerving if someone decided to… Ahem. Spy on me from the ships. In an attempt to destroy the warships. Or… did it regardless for selfish purposes."
The Devils stared at Momonga. Mizora understood the most, having seen the ruins of her ritual rooms, Warlocks and cultists obliterated with the floors, walls, and ceilings cracked and charred.
"Remove your wards before your magics sabotage my fleet," Zariel ordered.
"Understood."
There was an air of awkwardness in the room.
"Have the imps be invisible and hard to detect to further their chances of success. After that, I will signal when I summon one of my elementals. The Imps would be sent back to Baatezu, so there should be no permanent loss of manpower."
"And the grand spell that sacrificed the Tanar'ri?" Zariel asked with anticipation.
"I'm not sure if they are dumb enough to want to get close to me after that. Thinking about it, I was pretty sure my forces killed Yeenoghu and Baphomet yesterday…"
Momonga didn't think those things were Demon Lords even after receiving so much knowledge and the major enhancement of his intellect and wisdom. There were so many demonic varieties when he first fell that it slipped his mind.
And there was even a Klururchir, a monster that could rival Demon Lords, some theorized them to be protodemon lords. It was the giant, four-armed demon with a giant stomach-mouth of fangs, one of the Dark Young quickly slaughtered.
"I can use the spell, but I doubt they're dumb enough to get close to me after that horror show. Perhaps I should first make myself invisible and undetectable by magical or extrasensory means and ambush them with the spell. Maybe from behind the enemy lines."
The Baatezu chattered amongst themselves at the plan, sowing chaos and discord amongst the Tanar'ri ranks and then dropping that grand spell when they least expected it was something they would do.
Momonga pondered his options. It would be wiser to disorient the loosely packed hordes of Tanar'ri with a bit of his own chaos mixed in. He had heard of some ancient intelligence like Juiblex and Zuugtmoy, slime and fungal demon lords driven by primal, destructive desires despite their intellect…
Either way, Momonga obtained the history of the Demon Lords recorded by Zariel so far.
One of the Demon Lords, Graz'zt, managed to imprison Waukeen, a Goddess of Merchant and Wealth, during the Time of Troubles, and he nearly succeeded in transferring Waukeen's godhood to his half-fiend daughter through deception. It was a fascinating era when Ao, the God of Gods, forced every Toril Deity to descend from the heavens as Avatars to interact with mortals and capture the ones that stole the Tablet of Fate, the culprits being Bane, Myrkhul, and Baal.
Ao might have summoned him, now that he thought about it… but the big question was, why would he do that? Momonga was slightly thankful for that, but a warning would be nice. Though he was irked that Ao dropped him into Mount Celestia like that.
The discussions continued as they debated how they should destroy the Tanar'ri initiatives, knowing that the Demon Lords would attempt to set up a massive defense in Pazunia, waiting for them.
After they decided their course of action, Momonga teleported back to his personal chambers with Nariangela.
The room was luxurious, worthy of royal status, though the infernal touched the luxury.
There was a magical scrying orb on a pedestal, a transparent white spherical mineral functioning as a window to view outside Zariel's flying sword fortress.
A royal throne made of Blackstone was near the fireplace, illuminating the room with hellfire. The padding was made from the hide of a Demon Lord that Zariel managed to capture, some ogre-shaped monster named Kostchtchie.
The spelling of the name was ridiculous, and the pronunciation was stupid. Either way, it was an exotic chair made from her enemies.
The walls were draped with red curtains, and gold furniture was organized around the room.
"...Master."
The seven liches Momonga managed to capture and enslave were waiting for him. Normally, he would not bother with their names, but ever since his intellect was heightened from the contract, he could remember.
Momonga walked towards and sat on the throne.
"Did you write every spell and ritual in your collective knowledge in my spellbook?" Momonga asked.
Wizards could copy spells from another's spellbook, plagiarizing the hard work of others.
Honestly, Momonga didn't care if it was cheating, Yggdrasil and his world taught him that playing fair was for fools unless they wanted to prove themselves in competitive sports.
And he did not have the time and patience to gain knowledge and skills the hard way, though he still had the capacity to respect those that could and prosper.
Tsalkir, his latest catch, presented his infernal spellbook.
It was indeed a magical book made by Devils. It was a macabre creation, the pages made from the wax of Hellwasp nests, hellish wasp hives made from humanoid corpses, this time only wizard corpses, and brined by the processed brains of evil mages and Mindflayers, the book infused by the energy of processed mage souls. How she got so many, Momonga did not know, but he suspected that she must've collected them from the souls that fell in Avernus… or she possibly cobbled whatever wizards were in Avernus for this.
Actually, the cover was made from the skins of Devils, not human skin, explaining the red color palette. There might be Devil wizards and sorcerers used as well, and the book is forged by dark, devil magic.
It transmitted the contents directly into his mind, allowing him to memorize this book's spells instantly, unlike the Book of Shadows the common Warlocks possess. The pages contained were somehow infinite, able to store infinite spells.
Also, the spellbook was an Artifact, a legendary item that could not be destroyed by normal means. Each Artifact could only be destroyed under special conditions. The Wand of Orcus, for example, could only be destroyed when bathed in the heart-blood of Tiamat. The Infernal Spellbook could only be destroyed by a the Chosen of Mystra after it bathed in the waters of Lunia for nine days, not like Momonga would go back to that divine hell.
Why did Momonga have this spellbook?
Why be a warlock when he could also be a wizard as well? Who cares if the genuine wizards hate him for cheating? He was cheated in life, robbed of loving parents, robbed of a proper childhood, denied a proper education, he was owed this much at least, taking in what was due, and no innocent blood was spilled in the process, so no one should complain.
He was going to massacre DEMONS, for god's sake… or Ao's sake…
The liches had interesting backstories.
Two of them obtained their rituals for lichdom from Vecna, one from Orcus, the Demon Lord of Undeath, one from the Oracle of Ellyn'taal, one from Acererak, one from Mephistopheles, and one from Szass Tam, a ruler of Thay, a magocratic nation ruled by Liches.
He wanted to visit that place someday, hoping to plunder as many magical secrets and treasures as possible. He might continue his favored strategy of dominating them to bring their phylacteries, but Momonga might have to be creative if this did not work. Perhaps he could seal them in the bowels of Avernus or throw them into Mount Celestia. Probably, he could just booby-trap their respawn point if their Phylacteries were impossible to get.
He could conquer that place if he wanted and become the new Lich King of Thay.
When he opened the book, residual thoughts and cries of anguish whispered from the pages, echoes of their final moments before they were made into this.
Flipping through the pages, he saw the list of spells categorized from first to ninth-level in alphabetical order. He could mentally rearrange the contents into different schools of magic if he wanted, a great spellbook.
Zariel must've expended much of her resources in crafting this Artifact for him, showing how much she favored him over the rest of her contractors.
"Are these transcribed correctly?" Momonga asked.
He dominated Tsalkir as the lich answered.
"Yes. No alterations or errors were purposely inputted."
Momonga released her as he read the spellbook.
He was interested in the Cantrips, zero-level spells that he could cast as many times as he wanted.
He looked at the school of necromancy spells, the various summon monster spells…
The ones he was most interested in were the high-level spells like [Blade of Disaster], [Imprisonment], and [Mordenkainen's Disjunction].
One of them knew the [Wish] spell.
It was not as grand as the namesake, not as omnipotent as it sounded.
The most extraordinary feat one could accomplish was the creation of a massive underground labyrinth with the spell.
As for its transmutation limits, it could not wholly convert an iron golem into an adamantite golem, for example, in the wish.
He wanted to experiment with the [Wish] spell, but it was a tricky spell, mostly used to cast eighth-level spells or lower of any school of magic. It did not follow the intent of the Caster when used to make a wish, a neutral monkey's paw that required skill in the art of clause and law, and it could not undo higher-level spells that Mythra sealed after the fall of Netheril.
The spell could not simply one-shot a Demon Lord or a Demigod. Others have tried. The amount of damage it could inflict was limited, the best a ninth-level spell could bring.
[Mordenkainen's Disjunction] was the ultimate counter against wizards.
It has the power and potential to remove magic from anything, turn magic items into mundane objects, possibly destroy Artifacts, and more.
But it can be resisted, albeit helpful in undoing certain spells—this spell he wished to use experiment on his enemies.
"I believe each of you has earned a reward."
It would take a few days for the fleet to arrive at Pazunia. Momonga wanted to keep an eye on Astarion and the party… Thinking about it, could he practice Pact Magic on his summons? Giving his powers to his creations for enhanced performance sounded awesome.
Wait, could he draw power from his summons? The possibilities were endless.
"Reward?" The Lich that ascended using the knowledge of Szass Tam asked. He had red runic markings on his desiccated face, some skin still stuck to his skull, though he had no eyes. He had the robes of the Red Wizards of Thay,
"Indeed. I have been enlightened, and you all desire power. There are Liches that serve deities, if I recall… and I believe that hard work must always be respected. You."
Momonga pointed at Tsalkir.
"Come here."
She would suffice.
Tsalkir stepped up. Since she still had skin and her eyeballs remained in their sockets, Momonga could see her nervousness. They feared him because he had done something no other creature could in their long lives.
"Closer."
She walked closer.
"Closer."
Her trepidation leaked through her features as she stood within arm's reach.
"Good."
He placed his hand on her.
"Accept this without resistance. Accept with your soul and swear your undying fealty."
He performed the Pact Magic.
It was basically him infusing his power and essence into other beings through a contract as a medium. Momonga asked Nariangela if this cost him something permanent, but she assured him that it cost him energy he could replenish.
Nariangela offered the advanced pact that Patrons choose their vassals, one that Momonga automatically applied to Tsalkir, which she automatically accepted. She was obedient and understood her position.
Time to see how much she could withstand.
"...I accept. I, Tsalkir Ipmali, swear to serve you with my body and soul for eternity."
The Lich flinched after sealing the pact.
Power, Negative energy, the power of undeath undistilled.
Momonga channeled his negative energy, using [Ray of Negative Energy] with [Rite of Darkness] as an additional component to empower her, applying his newfound knowledge about Ritual magic.
He watched as he connected to her, turning her into his Familiar servant instead of a simple vassal, binding her to his will.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Black fire erupted from her seven orifices, eyes, ears, mouth, undying flames of Momonga's power.
The other Liches were terrified for the first time in centuries. They were witnessing power on the level of the Gods, something Momonga was unaware of as he didn't see himself as a deity since he could not perform the same feats.
Momonga had no worshippers nor could he grant blessings from afar effortlessly.
Either way, Momonga continued pouring his power into this woman as he strengthened her like he strengthened his Undead summons through his class skills.
He stopped once he felt the undead woman reaching her limit through their forced pact as she fell on her hands and knees before his throne.
He granted her a few of his Yggdrasil spells, seventh tier spells the highest he would allow as they would not hurt him much.
She wheezed despite not having working lungs.
"How do you feel?" Momonga asked with anticipation.
To his surprise though, when she looked up and faced him, she looked… more beautiful and lively.
As if she rejuvenated from the infusion of negative power, drinking from the fountain of youth, or something similar. Bathed in a potion pool was more like it.
Her skin was as smooth as that of Shalltear's, black hair grew from her scalp, she looked… alive - vampire level.
Did Momonga mess something up? He did bind this woman to him, though.
"...I beg for your forgiveness for my disrespect, my lord, for not recognizing your greatness."
She knelt before him. He could feel the honest reverence coming from her. He could feel what she feels, her condition, her thoughts if he wanted to pry.
"I did not dedicate myself to my vow as I should. On my name and phylactery, I vow again to swear to serve you with all of my existence, Lord Suzuki."
She changed from 'master' to 'lord'.
He took a peek in her mind through the connection he made through the pact…
He retreated as quickly as he could.
She was enamored with him, filled with Divine reverence. She saw him as a God worthy of worship as he granted her power.
Momonga was creeped out as he saw some form of perverted lust mixed in with the reverence. He didn't even have flesh, working flesh to work with it, and it felt… wrong and cheap in a sense.
He ignored it. It was better to build his power base instead; he could experiment later.
He looked at the other Liches. Curiosity was written on their faces upon seeing her change of behavior towards him.
They dare not speak unless permitted.
"Bring me the corpses I arranged with Zariel. Lemures first then Nupperibos, then the cambions."
Lemures were best described as stinking, pink flesh slimes that looked like melted humans trying their best to cling to existence, the lowest caste of Devils that emerge from the River Styx.
Nupperibos were the 'downgraded' version of Lemures, a step lower if that was possible.
Painfully bloated, obese, pale and fat as hell, wretches with slabs of flap on their ballooned bodies, eyes and mouth sewn shut, vestigial arms and legs that were almost useless, even the legs were fat like bloated tumors.
They were the expendable meat shields and slave workers, not worth pitying.
The other six undead bowed before they moved, past the Death Knight and Death Warrior stationed outside his room as guards.
He wanted to see how many he could pact with. Some of the Devils in Zariel's army could pact with many Warlocks at once, like Mizora. Momonga wanted to get a good feel on how to maintain his vassal familiars first before expanding his horizons, starting with Tsalkir.
His large room was filled with lesser Devil corpses with more waiting outside, imps, lemures, Nupperibos. He arranged with Zariel to bring any corpses she could bring for experimentation to add to their armies, some for Zariel, some for him, a fair exchange.
The corpses he sacrificed to create monsters worked for mid-level Undead or lower, but higher-level monsters like the Pale Riders would disappear.
He made a pact with the other six Liches. His pact with the seven allowed him to extract their knowledge in exchange for giving them greater power, further enhancing his necromancy through the Arts, years of multiple individual research into forbidden magics, and regular magics crammed into his skull.
He had tasted enlightenment, dark, taboo, demonic enlightenment, but enlightenment nonetheless.
According to his newfound knowledge, there was a limit to how much power a corpse could handle, which was obvious, depending on the grade of the corpse. It was common knowledge that the addition of a soul would enhance the quality, but it carried great risks of betrayal. There was a reason why master necromancers refused to create undead with souls in them; moving corpses with free will and ego wasn't easy to manipulate.
For Momonga, a soul might be what he needed as a catalyst to anchor his higher-level Undead summons.
But should he? Would it even work?
Momonga had Soul Coins and obtained pact-given knowledge on how to raise special undead like Death Knights, this reality's Death Knights, but the persona of the soul would remain, and almost all Soul Coins contain evil souls, not exactly obedient, and he did not want the hassle of possible rebellion, that was not his style.
He could make it work, but he did not want to take risks…
He made six Death Knights and six Soul Eaters to ride to war, to slay the hordes of lesser Demons.
As for the lesser creations, Elder Liches, Skeleton Mages, and Wraiths would function well.
He moved them outside of his room as guards and additional patrols around his room for extra security. Actually, he let his Lich subordinates command his lesser summons to aid them with their duties. There might not be enough in this fortress, though. He should ask Zariel to assign some of his Undead to the fleet for security.
After enough experimentation, he proceeded with the special cambion corpse, wanting to create a unique form of Undead, one that could act independently and carry out his wishes when he was busy, one that could transmit information to his mind when he was not puppeteering it.
Apparently, this headless corpse belonged to 'Commander Zhalk,' his decapitated head included. He vaguely remembered Thadrik mentioning Zhalk when they first met… so he died invading the Nautiloid. He wondered who killed him.
Anyways, a half-devil with wings would do splendidly, an undead that could fly, Momonga wanted to make a unique undead warrior from this creature's corpse, not something copy-pasted from Yggdrasil.
Possibly a Death Knight, this world's version. Although that might not be possible because of the severed head, he wanted to make something original, a hybridized undead.
This one shall be his meat puppet that he could use to send to Astarion, one that he could send his spells to and grant abilities.
But he needed a soul… all he had were evil souls.
Wait…
Thank Zariel for enhancing his intelligence; he remembered Withers and his meat puppets.
He could mindwipe the soul… or instill fanatical obedience to his will above the owner's.
Momonga took out a Soul Coin and grinned.
[Control Amnesia]
His spell locked on. The coin counted as a viable target.
Holding the gear coin of infernal iron, Momonga instilled absolute obedience to his will without complications.
He crouched and stabbed his sharp, bony finger into the corpse's chest and sliced it open, inserting the coin through like a coin slot.
He shall make this a Dullahan, a winged Dullahan, the first since Yggdrasil.
Momonga laughed as, through his hands, necromantic power surged from within and into the corpse, beginning the ritual.
"Ahahahahahahahaha!"
Nariangela arrived with another wagon of corpses pulled by Barbazu servants from the storage to see him work.
The Erinyes watched as necrotic-green flames consumed the corpse of Commander Zhalk, the corpse writhed and spasmed as if it was alive, suffering from burning agony, as her master conducted The Arts as if performing a dark, infernal orchestra.
The severed head opened its eyes and screamed despite having no vocal chords.
The corpse levitated, head and body rising, pulled in an arch before the corpse lowered to its feet, his bent form straightening forward, black flames mixing with the necrotic green.
Multiple spells and skills were infused into this composite ritual, [Undeath Slave Sight], [Control Amnesia], [Rite of Darkness], [Create Middle Tier Undead], [Bless of Magic Caster], [Greater Haste], [Greater Magic Weapon], [Magic Ward: Holy], and even [Wish] to permanently fuse the buffs into his creation.
He used [Wish] to cast a greater version of the [Permanency] spell, at least he said the words to make the enhancements permanent in this ritual.
Momonga smiled as his Dullahan was finished.
The creature was a pale white like Yuri Alpha of the Pleiades. Its severed head floated above its severed neck, muscles taut and expanded in mass from the dark power, irises blackened by the necrotic energies, its wings leathery and pale.
"Yes… Yes!"
He strengthened the Dullahan a bit during the process, and since it had a soul, it should be a more permanent creation.
He could feel the connection to it, he could see himself through the Dullahan with a thought, a will bound to him with the help of Pact Magic and [Control Amnesia].
Since it was his summon, it could theoretically also act independently with an intelligence of its own.
Now, to equip his creation.
"Did you succeed, my lord?" Nariangela asked. She could not hide her slight fear and awe of Momonga's creation. The Barbazus behind here watched silently with trepidation, the weaker Devils cowering before the strong.
"Not yet."
The Dullahan was naked.
Momonga forgot about the horns, so he grabbed them, snapped them off, and tossed them aside; they weren't needed.
He rummaged through his inventory, trying to find an item set for his creation.
"You shall be… Hmmm…" Momonga wasn't sure what to name this one. He wanted to call it Pandora's Actor version two, but it felt lazy.
"Forget it, Klahz or Momon should do it."
It was Zhalk spelled backward to honor the departed commander for donating his corpse.
Now, to equip Klahz.
A pair of iron gauntlets called Járngreipr for his hands which boosted strength, a random iron face-plate helmet with a visor bearing a row of vertical eye slits for his floating head, rare enchanted steel plate armor that enhances physicall strength, and Boots of Haste for movement speed.
Donning the body armor was a challenge at first, but he managed it. The boots and gauntlets were easy after that. Thankfully, the armor would acclimate to the extra wings, like Albedo's armor, which accommodates the winged appendages.
He sorted out items in an Infinity Backpack before giving it to Klahz. The backpack contained essentials and minor potions, jewels, coins, and camping supplies.
Now, for his weapon… Momonga had just the thing.
He took out an odachi, one of Takemikazuchi's earlier prototypes he made to defeat Touch Me, but was a legendary grade, the weapon named Takemikazuchi MK 2. Momonga had Mark 1 and 3, but those were Divine Grade.
It had a bit of style, though. The sword had a Damascus lightning pattern streaked across both sides of the flat blade.
It came with a long sheath, and as he handed it to Klahz, Klahz strapped it around his shoulder. The odachi was sheathed on his back. The size of the odachi shrank to his size, Klahz smaller than his dear warrior friend.
"Now, you are good to go!"
Momonga summoned [Gate], not the Yggdrasil version.
This reality's [Gate] was not a dark, yawning mouth of the swirling void; it was a circular runic window showing the other side, the caster's destination, with magical runes lined around the perimeter. He placed the [Gate] on the floor because he was in a flying fortress shaped like a scorpion-tipped hellish dagger of infernal iron and stone hovering above the River Styx. The portal would remain fixed in a location, but Momonga and the fortress wouldn't.
The sight was strange for the Devils watching, seeing their newest undead commander creating an undead and already equipping it with items he pulled from nowhere. Nariangela thought he was making a champion to fight for them in the Blood War until he summoned the [Gate].
Then the undead creation hopped into the [Gate] to her further confusion.
"...May I ask where you send that creature to?" Nariangela asked curiously, trying to understand the actions of her new master.
"Oh, items to return to my tower, don't worry. I still need to check and maintain it, after all. I can create more Undead for the invasion. This is just a prototype."
Momonga bullshitted. He used the Liches' memories to deflect her question.
He could've improved the ritual by drawing an elaborate magic circle and enchanted nodes to refine the process, but he lacked the materials. He had the raw components that needed to be processed by the alchemy of this reality, the tools he did not have.
"Ah, right. Are you interested in participating in an experiment of mine? Would you like to receive greater power?" Momonga asked.
After this, he needed to discuss it with Zariel. It was great having genius-level intelligence.
Klahz, or Momonga, landed at the campsite where he set up camp with Astarion, his metal boots landed on the sand.
Even while conversing with Nariangela, he was simultaneously puppeteering Klahz as he looked around the campsite.
Momonga's will dominated the spirit in the Soul Coin; resistance was not a factor as he erased all forms of it.
The experiment was a success. He made a perfect puppet to conduct his will, which could transmit information to him in real time with little to no mental effort to control it.
This genius way would let him interact with the enjoyable, parasitized party while focusing on the Blood War and earning his keep.
The moon was already rising from the horizon; the moonlight was powerful in the night, paleblood blue illuminating the beach in a beautiful hue.
Tents were established on the sands, each bearing a distinct personality. One blue tent, for example, showed a collage of various magical items.
He saw Astarion feeding on the gold dwarf meat puppet.
"Astarion." Momonga, or Klahz, called out. His voice transmitted flawlessly, the spell a success.
The Githyanki meat puppet stood on the lookout to watch and prevent anyone from disturbing his meal.
Astarion turned towards Momonga. His lips caked in crimson blood.
"...Momonga?" Astarion asked, looking at Momonga from head to toe.
Instead of the tall masked man of mystery, Astarion saw a heavily armored man with pale wings sprouting from his back.
"What the bloody hells happened to you?! You're wearing armor… and a big sword on your back! How in the name of the gods did you go from tall, wizard necromancer to… this?! Wait, are you finally showing your true colors?! I thought you were too big to be a wizard!" Astarion asked, reasonably taken back by his unexpected, armored appearance.
"Ahahahahahaha." Momonga laughed heartily at Astarion's over-the-top reaction.
He banged on his armor chestplate with mirth.
"What you see… is just a puppet I crafted to check on you, Astarion. I cannot join you with my main body as it is occupied with an important matter, but I will say it is a fruitful appointment."
Astarion warily approached Momonga's Klahz, Astarion eyeing his creation from the vertical-slits visor of his helmet to the metal toes of his Boots of Haste.
"What the blazes? I know you are a necromancer, but why did you stack this one with exotic equipment? Adventurers clad in this much metal is rare, I swear to you."
"I wouldn't call most of them exotic. Standard equipment, mostly. The sword I have is another matter."
Momonga's Klahz drew the MK I, showing Astarion the odachi with the Damascus lightning pattern.
He watched Astarion marvel at the blade, the sight of his red eyes inspecting the odachi with wonder instilled a sense of pride within him, that the legacy of his friends was still alive through him and the items he salvaged.
"A friend of mine made a series of prototypes to defeat a powerful warrior of light. This is one of his works…"
Momonga wanted to experiment with whether the [Wish] spell could pluck an item from the fallen Nazarick even if it was outside this reality's Weave. He was brought here, so the Tomb of Nazarick should be able to be summoned.
"This is a fine blade you have," Astarion touched the sharp edge.
He retracted his finger.
"Biting, too. Ah, I think we are getting distracted."
Astarion rubbed the blood between his finger and thumb.
"Indeed. How is everything since I left?"
Momonga sheathed the blade on his back, wondering about the party's progress.
"Oh, I have relayed your message. Your companions… are more than I estimated, but it doesn't matter. The cultists have been captured without trouble. Laezel and Dirge handled everything marvelously. Tavlana has a good, pretty head on her shoulders. They're planning to hand them to the healer in the Druid's grove to perform surgery on the poor dwarf fellow. I stayed behind to catch my fill." Astarion gestured to the gold dwarf meat puppet.
The meat puppet was currently eating a piece of salami to replenish her blood. The puppet was a she, despite looking masculine with all that beard on her face.
"Surgery? This I have to see."
Momonga had never seen something that graphic in Yggdrasil, and he was curious to see a professional at work, especially this nematode.
"Come, let's introduce you to the others. The other party has a wizard as well, though a bit cocky for my tastes despite not being as rich as you, haha. Come along now, meat puppets," Astarion gestured to them to follow along as they made their way out of the sandy shores.
They traveled across the road, past the fallen Nautiloid, as they crossed the ruined interior.
Momonga saw the corpses on the way… Mindflayers, Intellect Devourers, random human corpses. Ravens were already plucking the skin off the human corpses, the carrion scavengers left the Mindflayer and Brain Dogs alone.
Momonga should collect the corpses later. He wondered if he could store the bodies in his Infinity Haversack. It would be fun to see if he could insert soul coins into these Aberrations, reactivating their abilities in Undeath.
The vine-covered square-wood gate loomed in the distance as they crossed over the hill.
"...What in the Nine Hells? Elf, who did you bring this time?! Is that a half-devil?!"
One of the Tiefling lookouts, the nightshift, called out at the sight of the armored, winged warrior standing next to Astarion.
"No need to panic, everyone, he is friendly. I am sure you have questions, but I assure you he is as harmless as a squirrel."
Astarion called out.
The Tiefling lookouts exchanged glances before looking at the armored man.
They whispered to each other for a moment, pointing at Momonga's Cambion Dullahan puppet rudely.
"I am ashamed by the hypocrisy."
Momonga called out to the tieflings.
"Your kind is discriminated against across the land, and yet you people fall into the very same discrimination when you look at me. I am offended!"
Astarion looked at Momonga, jaw hanging open out of both shock… and a hint of amazement.
"What… W-We weren't…" One of them stammered at the accusation.
"My name is Momon! I am a warrior from a faraway land! I thought Tieflings would understand my hardships because of my unique appearance, but I stand disappointed in you! How could you betray your own kind like this?!"
"But…"
"So what if I have wings?! I can fly over there and kill you two if I wanted but no! I am here asking for permission to enter like a polite gentleman, good sir! You are not! I am here to offer my services as an adventurer because my friend hired me to help you with your goblin problem, but I might have to change my mind."
Astarion's hung jaw curled into an open smile. How he wanted to applaud Momonga at this moment.
"Wait, wait, wait!"
The tieflings could not respond properly.
"Alright, we'll let you in… but are you really going out to kill the goblins?"
They fell for the usual racial discrimination tactic. Well, it was thanks to his newfound knowledge on Tieflings that he could use their years of being persecuted against them.
"We have the time and numbers. Slaughtering vermin is of no issue for us."
Momonga assured.
The tieflings pulled the winch wheel, the wooden, vine-covered gate lifting.
Once the four walked through the gate, Astarion turned to Momonga.
"Where did you learn how to do that? I've acted before but well, well, I didn't think you had it in you."
Momonga grinned in his mind.
"Oh, I had much practice."
Years of Yggdrasil and interactions with his friends have taught him many lessons and tricks, including the art of trolling. That, and forbidden infernal powers helping him along the way.
They made their way down towards the Sacred Pool.
"Halt…. What in the name of the Oak Father did you bring to this sacred grove, elf?" Druids blocked their path, night shift druids.
Wearing head gear styled with branches to resemble deer horns, green face paintings, and donned in vestments with leaves.
Momonga didn't expect the druids to have that natural smell, slightly pungent mixed with the forest's flora scent, a wild combination of fragrances that graced the nose positively.
"Well, I understand what's going in your pretty heads, but…"
"My name is Momon. I was sent by a friend to help with your monster problem. Ah, and we're with the others. We heard that they are currently with your healer, Nettie. We would like to rejoin them," Momonga answered.
They looked at the armored, bat-winged thing. They looked at Astarion, Astarion wiggling his brows at the druids.
"First tieflings, and now this? Allowing devil-spawn heathens to occupy this sacred grove is already crossing a line. There better be a good reason why we should allow you entry to the grove, freak."
"That is incredibly rude and not what I expect to come out of a druid." Momonga was surprised to hear such unfiltered spiel coming from them.
He was under the impression that Druids were wise men and women of nature and would not fall into petty prejudices.
"And I won't be the last one you'll hear it from," the druid sneered.
Oh, this one was crossing a line.
"Allow me to correct a misconception you seem to have. I am not a refugee. I am very well-equipped, heavily armed, and incredibly lethal. With an increasing kill count of many, many things, Druids included in the pile of bodies behind me."
Momonga was unsure about this corpse-puppet's capabilities, but these druids did not know that.
"I can be two things. A friendly adventurer that can solve your problems and be on his way without issue… or an enemy of your making because you don't seem to have the brain cells to see that I can massacre you two and every druid in this grove if I put my mind to it, the blood on your hands as I send you to your Sylvanus in pieces. Assuming you're willing to test your faith in your God with the lives of you and your fellow druids to prove a point."
Momonga warned as his corpse-puppet's aura flared and brushed against their skin.
The druids felt their skin crawl and shudder as they stepped back from the unholy presence.
Astarion approved.
"Do you believe Sylvanus is a fool?" Momonga asked.
"...N… No…" The halfling druid reluctantly answered.
"Did you know that your God is watching us at this moment?"
"H-He's always watching…" The halfling answered.
"Do you think he would not throw your soul to the Hells after seeing your disgraceful behavior? Depending on your answer at this moment, you will be responsible for the lives of everyone in this grove. And Sylvanus has a limit in tolerating stupidity. Meaning if we fight because of you, know that your soul will be the first to be punished."
The halfling and his companion exchanged glances as Momonga towered over the halfling.
The druids stepped aside, giving him a wide berth.
"Wise choice."
Astarion hummed as he walked forward, leading Momonga towards the stone door past the ritual site.
Momonga saw the clearing of the Inner Sanctum.
He had seen Druidic locations in Yggdrasil, but nothing as raw as this.
A stone eagle statue with glowing blue lines drawn around its neck like a makeshift gorget stood tall, overlooking the room.
Moonlight shone through the hole in the ceiling like a natural spotlight, and white wax candles illuminated scattered across the room, banishing the darkness.
There was no artist's hand of a game developer that designed this room. It was a natural synergy with nature; patches of dark green vines covered the small areas of the grey, stone walls, grass grown across the altar-like table, a poorly chiseled rock flattened with a rough outline of a deer or an elk drawn on the table.
Nocturnal druids stood guard around the sanctum. Their eyes sharpened in alert at the sight of the armored, wing humanoid, following him even as Momonga entered another sanction.
Momonga learned from the contract that Druids could transform into animals through Wildshape. He spotted three rats gazing at him. They had additional HP, or a secondary health bar, their transformation would come undone after receiving enough damage.
Although the gaze of the rats was slightly too hostile.
Bats hung from the ceiling, gazing at Momonga and his party.
They arrived at a room.
The long head of a deer statue, light blue linear patterns symmetrically glowed from both sides, was atop a square stone raised in the center, candles, baskets, urbs and a chest or two surrounded it from all four sides.
Four rectangular stone tables at north, south, east, and west of the statue at the wall.
There was a male drow corpse on one primitive slab of stone acting as the operating table. Momonga saw only Dark Elves in Yggdrasil, but this was his first time seeing a 'drow.' Poor bastard, forced to be under a toxic matriarchy imposed by a capricious, insane goddess.
He caught the sight of a Mindflayer tadpole in a flask which surprised him.
A blue jay chirped from atop the deer statue.
As for the party, they gathered around the south, under the gaze of the statue…
As Astarion said, the party had grown bigger than before. There were three unfamiliar faces… no, four, including the druid dwarf.
The dwarf had tanned skin, a diadem made of branches covering her crown, combed short black hair, and dark green paint tattooed on her face, though he called it a tattoo because it looked like a facial tattoo.
He was surprised, however, that the dwarf druid was not performing the surgery.
It was the white dragonborn performing the surgery.
Well, I had something to say, but I forgot it immediately bleh. What else... What do you think about the Infernal Spellbook? I think that Devils do have the capacity to make something like that, although it would be extremely costly to make especially with Zariel's power level. I read that it would take one hundred years for Orcus to remake his bone wand artifact after it was destroyed the first time, though I decided to make it so that Zariel had a lot of help, mainly using her Pit Fiend generals and every resource she had over the countless centuries to make this spellbook, she lived a long time. Hells, Zariel gifted Thavius Kreeg, those if you that played Descent into Avernus know the name, a solar sphere thing to wipe out the vampires, though it was a double-edged item that would drag Elturel into the Abyss.
Anyways, I am still waiting for aid. AID ME IF YOU WANT FASTER CHAPTERS!