Well, I am reaching a threshold where I have to write multiple characters simultaneously. I don't want to make it too long, though, so I am considering which parts I should write or skip.
I am still looking for DnD experts to help me with DnD monsters, locations, and other reasons! I don't want to be lore inaccurate, if I can fill the gaps with OC monsters and stuff, I would!
Also, I wasted shit tons of time reading wiki. Saw the challenge rating of the Gods and how even the Gods got owned, Demigods got owned despite being able to shape their own realms by the Demon Lords. Orcus owned a drow lich demigod, you know? Grazzt even imprisoned Waukeen, a god of merchant and wealth, forgot the specifics, but you got the point.
Point is, I think Momonga can take on a Intermediate Level God. Not sure on a Greater God, though, Momonga should be at the level where the Gods cannot erase him with a thought and stuff.
Also, I am a bit perplexed on the spell slot mechanics, I mean, some of these guys give spellslots to warlocks like its nothing, so they should be powerful enough to have unlimited spell slots to an extent, right? Someone explain this to me if you can.
"...You." Momonga didn't expect to see the gold-gilded mummy in decayed royal rags here, of all places.
The mummy was standing inconspicuously by the corner of the shoreline, looking at a scroll of old paper.
"Not this one. Or this one. Or this one, less worthy still."
The scroll was ancient yellow; whatever the mummy looked at seemed important.
"Well, the surprises keep coming. Do you know this… withered gentleman?" Astarion asked.
"Let's just say that he left an unfavorable impression in our first encounter," Momonga grumbled.
They returned to the camping spot with the three Absolutists, planning to extract information from them and then ambush them.
Momonga could've done it himself… but wanted to see the others in action. He was curious about their abilities, limits, personalities, and interactions to get a feel of who they were.
"A mummy!" Edowin and his siblings readied their weapons in hand.
"At ease. This one is… nonhostile at best," Momonga raised his hand to calm their nerves.
The cultist siblings looked at Momonga before they lowered their weapons.
"O-Oh. Is he one of Lord Balthazar's minions?" Edowin asked.
"...Yes."
Momonga played along. So, the cult had a necromancer in their ranks, which is good to know. He was glad that they were stupidly naive to trust him this much after saving the dwarf's life.
"Lord Balthazar must have sent this one to inform us… Of our new orders." Momonga dared not guess Balthazar's gender to screw himself over.
"Please, set up camp while we discuss matters."
"Oh, how fortunate to be graced by the attention of an esteemed member of the Absolute. Very well, we will not disturb you. Come, we have much work to do."
The dwarf man and his siblings moved away to set up camp, gathering wood for the fire.
"How curious. Thou hath brought members of the Absolute with thee under pretenses. Unorthodox, but I approve of thine cunning."
"...You are aware of this cult?" Momonga didn't think that an old corpse was aware. Was the Absolute an ancient cult? This thing looked like it aged a few thousand years or more.
"Indeed."
Momonga scrutinized the mummy. His perpetually weary yet gentle mien made it difficult for him to read him.
"What are you doing here, you… I don't even know your name. Actually, how old are you?" Momonga questioned.
"For now, thou shall call me… Withers."
Momonga knew that was not his real name. Withers was playing by Yggdrasil Player rules, huh? Momonga was tempted to do whatever he could to extract his real name to get back at him for doxing him.
"Beyond the mortal realms, there doth exist an amalgamation of spirits akin to that of thy companion's. Enslaved by the treacherous cult of the Absolute, felled in its name. They bear great discontentment with their destiny."
"...Get to the point." Momonga felt uneasy in front of this thing. He wasn't sure if he could kill it.
"For a mere pittance of coin, I might summon the worthiest amongst them to lend aid to thy undertaking."
Momonga tilted his head.
"...Are you saying you can… summon allies to aid us?"
His manner of speech was annoying. From what Momonga understood, Withers offered mercenary contracts that summon permanent NPCs. He didn't think this world, Toril as Astarion mentioned, could do that.
"Correct. Something thou should be more than familiar with for a soul possessing such… Talents."
Momonga understood that the creature was referring to his stunt in Avernus.
"Are these… summons trustworthy, willing to serve?" Momonga was tempted to try it out.
"Most willingly, forsooth. Their passions doth run deep for what hath been wrought upon them."
"Sounds suspicious. You didn't say what you get from this, Withers."
Momonga did not understand. What was this thing's stake in fighting against this cult? What was this cult, exactly? A Mindflayer cult was original, there wasn't a Braineater Cult… well, maybe a few instances of Braineater-involved Quests, some mind controlling key NPCs in major cities in Yggdrasil.
"Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind. My services are all I can proffer thee. What thou wilt do with them is for thee to undertake."
"Well… How much does each of these summons… cost?" Astarion interjected with curiosity.
"One hundred gold pieces."
Astarion patted his pockets.
"...Darling, you seem rich. So, care to tell me how much you have in those deep pockets?" Astarion hounded Momonga in a half-seductive, half-pleading whisper.
Momonga wondered if he should give any. If he was summoned, there was a chance other Players might end up here… this coin alone was indication of his Player presence.
He got a glimpse of this world's currency from that crypt, but he needed to know the exchange rate. This world's gold wasn't round, it was in the shape of a thick hourglass with engraving art on each side, one with a wolf with three water droplets below the chin and the other side bearing three adjacent castle towers.
He dipped his hand into his sleeve and secretly pulled a coin from his inventory.
"How much is this worth compared to the standard gold piece?" Momonga gave Withers a gold coin.
Withers took the coin and brought it before his eyes.
"Thine gold is… Flawless. Twice the value. Fifty of these will satisfy my terms."
"...You're saying that your realm's gold is double that of ours?" Astarion pointed at Momonga in disbelief.
Honestly, compared to the summoning contracts, fifty gold is dirt cheap. Even the cheapest of summons ranged around the hundred gold coins.
Momonga pulled out forty-nine gold and offered it to Withers.
"Now, show me what I can summon."
"Choose."
Withers summoned a scroll with magic and offered it to him.
The gold Withers received vanished in eldritch turquoise, 'consumed'.
Momonga pulled open the scroll, Astarion peeking at the contents beside him with curiosity.
Suddenly, Momonga saw more than words.
Each name on the scroll gave his mind insight into their history and appearance.
For example, he learned that Madalla Deadeye, a female human rogue with tan skin, had her blindness cured by another 'True Soul' passing through their village - so she could watch the Absolute burn it to the ground for her refusal.
Another was a black-skinned dwarf called a 'duergar,' Kree Derryck, who made a pact with some alien aberration called a Great Old One, killed for putting his loyalty to the thing he pacted with instead of religion.
This was strange. It was like browsing through the data, history, stats, and abilities of the Mercenary Contracts of Yggdrasil, but without the window screen.
He was extremely curious now…
Alright, time to make a choice.
"...Nice punch."
Tavlana complimented Laezel's technique.
She knocked out Tevlor and the human he was arguing with.
"Help me loot the bodies."
Laezel and the others stared at Tavlana when she crouched and started patting their bodies for anything on them.
"Well… logical but the lack of delay in suggesting robbery suggests a history of ill rapport," Gale commented.
"We need it more than they do, so what?" Tavlana parroted Momonga's words.
"Well, I cannot argue with that," Gale agreed.
"Did you find anything useful?" Laezel asked as Tavlana took the gauntlets off the tiefling and some coins, silver, copper, and a rare few gold off the human adventurer.
"Here. These are magical."
Tavlana tossed the gauntlets to Laezel.
Laezel caught the gauntlets and inspected them with approval.
"Wear them outside the gates. Also, I found something. A bounty out for something called 'the Nightsong,' whatever it is," Tavlana took out a bounty poster, signed by someone named 'Lorroakan'.
"Nothing that would be of use," Shadowheart reminded.
"Yeah. Let's keep going. We have a Tiefling community up ahead. If this Nettie can't do anything about our problem, we need supplies for the journey."
There was an unmanned wagon full of crates, which Tavlana immediately opened and rummaged after inspecting, but no one was looking. Her companions could almost admire Tavlana's enigmatic kleptomania as if she was cursed to put her hands on everything…
Though Gale might suspect that might be the case since she was pacted with a Great Old One, some warlocks that bonded with the Outer Realm might develop some… unique habits as a side-effect of the pact.
Ahead was a stone statue of a deer on watch, a halfling standing beside an obelisk with urns and baskets of goods, a possible merchant, and there was a trio of tieflings arguing close ahead.
"I care about our lives! Our futures!" The male tiefling
"No, you just care about your stupid apprenticeship!" The young woman sharply rebuked.
The three shared red skins and black horns, though two of them were arguing against the third.
The third wore wizard attire, the silvery metal gorget that covered up to his shoulders and chest, the blue necklet worn over the reb robes.
"You take that back! I'll not gamble our lives, our futures, on people who are as good as dead. We must leave for Baldur's Gate - at once."
"Can't we all just take a moment? Please?" The tall, lankier tiefling in leather armor with green sleeves pleaded.
"What's the point of blades and spells if we don't bloody use them?! We should stay! These people aren't fighters! We can help!" The young woman argued.
"Or yell louder. That's fine too." The lanky tiefling snarked.
"What's this all about?" Tavlana asked about the argument.
"This is between us. This is none of your business," the Tiefling wizard warned.
"We just killed a goblin pack outside the gates, and this is how you treat us? Hm?" Tavlana asked with a quirk of a brow.
"I… Ugh…" The wizard calmed down. "You're right, but this is a bad time. I can see you're not with the rest of us."
The wizard's eyes glanced at Laezel, Shadowheart, Dirge, and then at Gale.
"Speak some sense into Rolan! He's going to abandon the refugees!" The woman demanded.
"Wait, you reek of the Hells." The lanky man pointed out at them.
"Barely passed through Avernus, mind you, not by choice," Tavlana argued. "We're from the ship, well, survived it. You know, the thing that crashed the beach outside?"
The three stared at the group with an understanding.
"Oh… Ohhhh… You're telling me that you survived that ship? Isn't it full of Illithids?" Rolan recalled.
"Ah, a well-educated fellow. I assume you're an aspiring wizard looking at great heights?" Gale interjected.
"Will soon reach those heights you mentioned. You're looking at someone who will be an apprentice of the great wizard, Lorroakan."
"Lorroakan of Baldur's Gate?" Gale spoke out.
"Yes. We need to be there, my apprenticeship begins shortly!" Rolan stated with urgency.
"I've heard of Lorroakan, though the rumors surrounding him are not pleasant," Gale cautiously informed the tiefling wizard.
"Common gossip! The byproduct of ignorance and jealousy!" Rolan snapped. "I've admired Lorroakan for years. Never dreamed that he'd answer my letter. But I've worked myself to the bone for this. Few can match me - in either magic or talent. The names Rolan and Lorroakan will be known far and wide. You'll see."
The aspiring wizard looked a bit cocky in Tavlana's opinion. Wait, Lorroakan posted that bounty for the Nightsong?
"So that's why you're in a rush to leave. Question, what's with the goblins?" Tavlana asked.
"We're near a goblin camp outside. Misfortune seems to follow us ever since we left Elturel. We were beset by gnolls on the way here before the goblins," the young woman explained.
"Damn. Not a good idea to travel in a small party of three; you'll get slaughtered out there. Trust me as a seasoned adventurer. You'll only waste your life grasping for the short straws, especially you, wizard," Tavlana warned the three.
"I will not hide behind walls because of some goblins," Rolan objected.
"How about this? Think of it as a way to showcase your talents to your Lorroakan and show your competence. Get the refugees to vouch for your skills and prove your talents not only to yourself but to these people. Come on, think about it. You'll be more famous this way," Tavlana suggested with a wink.
"I… suppose…" Rolan pondered on her suggestion. "Yes, I could use this time to work on my spells… practice and execution."
The young man and woman looked at Tavlana, thankful that she convinced Rolan to stay.
"Are you here to help us deal with the goblins?" The woman asked.
"Depends on our travel plans. How do you plan to get to Baldur's Gate, anyways?" Tavlana asked.
"I heard that the only way through to Baldur's Gate is through the Shadow Cursed Lands…" The young man answered.
"That is not a good place. Even in Yartar, I've heard terrible tales of adventurers meeting their end only to rise back as cursed revenants. Three alone isn't enough to survive what's in that place," Tavlana was surprised to hear that these refugees planned to go through the cursed lands.
The Shadow Cursed Lands was so dangerous that even adventurers steered clear of that place, something they must either avoid or rush through at all costs.
"That's… good to know…" Rolan was surprised to hear that.
"Stick with the group at the very least. Trust me, your odds are better with these people… Where can we find the healer Nettie?" Tavlana asked.
"Nettie? That druid? Go down through the tiefling camp, though fair warning, they do not accept outsiders at the moment," the young man warned.
"What do you mean by that?" Durge asked warily.
"The druids are blaming us for their problems. The monster attacks got worse after we arrived," the tiefling woman explained.
"Good to know… Thanks for the warning."
Well, nothing like some charisma and guilt-tripping wouldn't solve at least—time to meet the druids.
"I'm just saying, if you're looking to hire a devilishly handsome vampire with skills like mine, now's the time, darling~."
Momonga only chuckled at hearing Astarion trying to suck up to him.
The weight of Yggdrasil Gold was nonexistent in the game, so he had more than billions of the stuff. Nazarick had much, much more, trillions in fact, so much gold it could probably cause a massive inflation in this world.
He paid for two Hireling summons, two souls at his command to do whatever they wish.
Momonga tested this feature by letting Astarion feed on one of them, Astarion was more than happy to drink the blood of a sapient till he had his fill. Momonga did ask what it was like to drink sapient blood, his response was 'like I am alive all over again, plus it's the first time I've tasted good blood in years.'
Astarion was more open with him after that, more conversational.
He was now traveling with what was called a 'Githyanki' and a gold dwarf when he spoke to Withers. Withers apparently was speaking through them like they were meat puppets, similar to his summons using [Undeath Slave Sight, but on the living.
This feature would've been OP in Yggdrasil, letting Players puppet living summons and using them to fight like additional, lower leveled Players.
Momonga considered teleporting to this strange fortress with the demons, no, Tieflings as Astarion called them, but he did not want to trigger hostilities. Needless killings wasn't his style, and Astarion promised that he could talk to them.
He enjoyed hearing Astarion's funny banter, it was like hearing one of his guildmates talking to him, like Peroperocino. Speaking of which, he wondered if he should give a few weapons to Astarion to see what he could do with Yggdrasil gear.
"Halt! Who goes… By the Nine Hells, what is this I am seeing? Are you seeing this?" One of those horned people called out.
"By the Gods, state your name and business! You don't look like you belong here… for clear reasons!"
Another horned tiefling called.
"I am looking for my companions! I believe you've already let them inside. I was separated from them to do an errand, but I can see that they have shed much blood defending your fortress!" Momonga gestured to the blood-soaked grounds littered with goblin and hound corpses.
"O-Oh! You're with them? Wait, how do we know if you're telling the truth?!" The same tiefling asked.
"One of them is a tiefling with blue skin and ram horns! Another is a White Dragonborn! The third is a half-elf cleric with black hair!" Momonga explained.
"...I'm letting you in!" The tiefling decided to pull the widget wheel, turning it to raise the wooden, vine-covered gate.
"I appreciate your trust, my friend!" Momonga called out as they entered the fortress, crossing under the wooden slide gate.
Momonga hummed as he looked around, wondering how he should find them…
Ah, the first person he saw was this small halfing… he looked like a halfing.
Light brown hair combed forward and back, studded leather armor over a red tunic, pale skin, weary gentle eyes that seemed tired, not like Withers, this one was genuinely tired as if he had to endure much bad news.
"Is there anything you…"
The halfling stopped himself when he saw Momonga, looking up at him, craning his neck more than usual.
"Greetings. I am looking for my companions who I believed help slaughter the savages outside this fortress."
The halfling blinked several times at Momonga. He rubbed his eyes for a moment before looking up again.
"By Sylvanus, you are the least of what I expect from blow-ins. You don't look like you're down on your luck like the others. Too well-dressed to be around these parts, ain't ya?"
Momonga chuckled at the halfling's comment.
"Oh, I beg to differ. My day went horrible yesterday, which led me here. Not what you're used to, but let's move on. Did you see my companions?"
"Ah, um, the ones that killed the goblins? Well, they traded in whatever they looted from the goblins for supplies on the road. They went to the Inner Sanctum up ahead and down below the slopes, past the Sacred Pool, looking for Nettie, our healer."
Momonga understood their reasons.
"You're a trader? Do you have anything I can purchase, items of a… magical nature? Books and scrolls, maybe?" Momonga asked.
"Well, you should act fast. A few days hence, this grove will be completely concealed by thorny vines. None will be able to enter. Or leave afterwards."
"You're sealing this place?" Momonga asked.
"A drastic measure. But more monsters seem to terrorise this region every day. The goblins you saw outside won't be the last of them."
"...I forgot to ask, but what are you? Not in terms of race, but… your magical profession?" Momonga asked.
This one had blue mana slots for some reason.
"Ah, blow-in, right there. This is the Emerald Grove, a Druid's Grove. We are the Chosen of Silvanus, followers of the Oak Father. You've come at a difficult time. Refugees have taken refuge. It is ironic, how we're suddenly overwhelmed."
"Who is Silvanus?" Momonga asked.
"You… Don't know the Oak Father?" The halfling asked.
"I do not mean to offend. I am a planeshifter, you see. I am not from this realm. I am… displaced from my realm… I cannot go back."
"Oh."
The halfling looked at Momonga with a softer gaze.
"You are more of a refugee than the Tieflings here. My condolences."
The halfling bowed slightly.
"Ahem."
Astarion cleared his throat behind Momonga. He was getting impatient.
"Ah, yes. Perhaps you can regale me about the Oak Father later. I will be ba-"
Momonga stopped when he heard his anti-divination spells reacting to prying eyes, the space in the air cracking, the sound of fractured glass alarming the halfling and Astarion, both looking up and at the crack in space.
"What was that?" Astarion asked.
"Someone is trying to spy on me. Again." Momonga sighed as he wondered if he should nuke them.
The spell was set on [Explosion].
Several more cracks in the air appeared, Momonga's spell was going crazy again.
"I thought I told her not to use Divination on me… Unless it was someone else?" Momonga pondered.
Was his stunt in Avernus bigger than he thought?
"Okay, what is happening? You're starting to, pardon my phrase, freak me out," Astarion sounded concerned.
"That is what I want to know. This is the second time I had so many prying eyes on me."
The reactions ceased, his [Anti-Information Wall] barely holding on in response.
"I swear that they're masochists…"
Momonga was about to change the reaction spell to [Cry of the Banshee] until he felt a hum in his inventory.
It was the black iron medallion of Zariel.
"...Ah…"
Well, it was time to confront the Archduchess of Avernus.
Momonga pondered how he should handle this. He made a few contingency plans just in case.
"Something came up. I have to deal with it…" Momonga sighed.
"Something came up, you say? Is it that important that you… have to go alone?" Astarion understood the hidden meaning behind his words.
"Unfortunately, this is not something I can ignore… Astarion."
"Yes?" Astarion responded.
"Take this and purchase whatever seems useful. Oh, and store whatever you got into the Infinity Backpack."
Momonga took out his Infinity Backpack and a handful of gems to Astarion.
The Infinity Backpack could store up to five hundred kilograms of loot, Momonga kept a lot of these backpacks for extra storage space in his Item Box, his inventory.
Astarion wordlessly accepted his gifts.
"The backpack can hold up to five hundred kilograms of items, feel free to put in as many as you want in there. You may keep the rest from the exchange as change. Go with the two meat puppets afterwards and find my companions. Tell my companions that I sent you, they'll understand."
"...Where are you going, Momonga?" Astarion asked, concerned.
"I… have an appointment with someone… I don't know how long I will be gone… Ah, right. Take these."
Momonga took out two items from his item box.
A pair of High-Class items, five levels below Divine Class. They were cheap and affordable, but Astarion's current weapon was a steel dagger. That would not do for a rogue like him, and Momonga grew fond of Astarion.
He liked this vampire's personality, very strong and unique. It was like talking to his guildmates all over again… if he ever wanted to form a new Ainz Ooal Gown, he would recruit this vampire. Honestly, Momonga would even help him find a way to overcome his vampiric weaknesses, the sun especially.
"These are the Frostblood Daggers. Each of these daggers will freeze the blood of your enemies and inflict hypothermia."
He gave Astarion ice-blue metal daggers that seem to radiat cold, misty, blades on a chilling white handle.
Aftering equipping the Infinity Backpack and putting away the light gems, Astarion received the daggers. He inspected the weapons front and back, completely taken back by the magical items from another realm.
"...Will you be back?" Astarion asked. He knew that wherever Momonga was going was not somewhere any sane man would go.
"Let's see if I do. I hope to hear more about Baldur's Gate when I do…"
Time to return to Hell. He wondered if he could level up from the mass slaughter… Hah, that would've been a great time to use Avarice and Generosity to store infinite experience points.
Astarion's gaze was… conflicted when he saw Momonga turning and walking away, through the gates of the Druid Grove.
Once he was far enough out of sight, he teleported away back to the crypt, inside where he met Withers.
He mentally prepared himself for the challenge to come. He took out the medallion from his inventory as the item hummed.
[I have prepared the contract and the Erinyes. A portal will appear soon.]
Momonga really hoped he was making the right choice when he decided to sign a contract with Avernus. He could just kill everyone if he had to get out of there. He still had Domiel's flaming sword for extra holy damage to his attacks.
Maybe when negotiations failed he would draw it out and go ham. He pulled out the Sword of Domiel and a sword sheath, a Yggdrasil item for warriors usually to help swiftly equip their items in combat. After strapping the sheath under his robes, he slid the Sword of Domiel inside, the sheath altering its dimensions to house the holy sword.
Next, he dug into his inventory and pulled out the Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, his most trusted item.
"Fuuuuuuu… Let's do this."
Momonga hyped himself. If he could slaughter one army, he could slaughter the other. Just in case, he casted [Greater Haste] and a few defensive spells on him.
His divine grade equipment can block even Hellfire, so whatever these creatures got would not hurt him in the slightest.
A fiery portal opened before him. Momonga thought about sending in a zombie to scout things out… but it would be rude, like sending in a substitute in a business meeting despite making a promise to be there in person.
Honestly, he didn't trust them. But he needed to show confidence that he wasn't someone to mess with, plus he slaughtered the army of Tanar'ri demons. He managed to get some information from Astarion on the difference between Tanar'ri Demons and Devils, two separate cousin species, not the same race like in Yggdrasil.
Alright, time to go.
He stepped in through the portal and prepared to active [Veil of the Moon] at the first sign of treachery and begin the massacre.
"I am pleased that you've arrived at my citadel, Lich."
He arrived at an infernal chamber.
The room was spartan, skulls of various demons hanged on the walls, above them and below the ceiling was a halo of orange hellfire acting as the chandelier of the room.
The walls were black stone, smooth yet rough, a preference for function over appearance he noted.
Though the table, on the other hand, was fancy, red cloth draped over the edges of the table and touched the onyx floor.
Lava flowed in the background behind Zariel, the pale-grey fallen angel smiling at him, the lava flowing into a small trench that circled around the circular perimeter of the room, giving this room a basking orange, fiery light that banished all darkness.
The Devil he recognized as General Thadrik stood beside Zariel, the red-scaled demon nodding at him.
There were several horned demons standing guard, two beside each entrance, two entrances, front and back.
The blue-skinned demoness he saw before was also beside Zariel, smiling at him.
Standing on the other side of the table opposite of Zariel was a stunning, beautiful fallen angel.
If he still had his flesh, he would be heavily aroused by her appearance, almost on Albedo's level in Nazarick.
The fallen angel was clad in red armor that accentuated her curves and hourglass waist. Her breasts were fairly large. A grey sword was at her waist. Her hair was smooth like obsidian, and her eyes were fiery gold. Her legs were bedecked in thigh-high metal armored boots ending in high heels.
Her black hair was combed, tomboy length, a sharp warrior-like beauty in her own right… Huh.
She approached him and knelt before Momonga.
"I am Nariangela, your Erinyes. By order of Zariel, I am your servant, your consort, your lawyer. Anything you wish of me, I will become."
After hearing the word 'consort,' her words barely reached his nonexistent brain. By Erinyes, did Zariel mean she gave him a warrior servant wife or something?
"Interesting. Well, your first order, prove yourself to me." Momonga decided to see what the Devils had in mind.
He walked up to the chair and took a seat. The chair seemed made from black stone, which was a bit uncomfortable and hard, but even warm. He silently cast [Detect Magic] to see if there were any hidden, magical traps, though he found nothing to his relief.
"Mizora, the contract."
The blue-skinned woman he assumed was Mizora was holding a piece of glowing, gold paper, like flaming yellow.
She presented the contact on his table. Momonga saw her smiling at him before returning to her mistress' side.
He looked at the contents of the paper…
It was direct.
Everything about it was direct.
He grabbed the paper and held it to his face as he analyzed it.
"...You really want to kill the Demons, do you?"
There were conditions on the pact specifically stating the protection he received from Zariel.
There was an exorbitant amount of gold, around the tens of thousands, along with magical items. There were even soul coins mixed in, albeit the Soul Coins were more limited. The clauses directly stated that they could bring in mortals or sacrifice Lemurs, Imps, or Soul Larvae to feed his phylactery.
He had no idea what a Lemur or a Larva was at all.
Momonga heard about the Phylactery, though mainly from Yggdrasil lore, any object that could store souls. Momonga's World Item acted as a cosmetic phylactery, an indestructible weapon that appeared as his heart.
"Are the terms of the contract satisfactory?"
Momonga double-checked. The terms here were extremely flexible, and the conditions of the rewards and safeguards were stated with detailed accuracy. Momonga would not harm Zariel or her allies without just cause, for example.
He turned to his lawyer, wanting to hear her opinion.
"I have thoroughly discussed the contract in your stead before you arrived. Even if you sign the contract, revising the contents is still within your power."
The infernal contract said he could negotiate the changes to any clauses made here with the other party, Zariel.
The rewards were too great, especially all the magical knowledge he could receive. He could write what he wanted to know, anything pertaining to magic.
"Interesting…"
Momonga had never been considered to be that valuable to this Zariel. He could slaughter the Demons en masse.
"But before I sign this contract, I have questions."
"Speak." Zariel nodded, patiently expecting this response.
"Tell me about the opposition. Before I sign, I need to know what I am dealing with when I go to war."
Zariel's blackened lips curled into a smile.
Momonga might have some fun here.
The power he would receive would be a portion of Avernus itself imprinted with Zariel's essence permanently fused with him; there was a list of powers and arcane knowledge he could receive, including a ritual way to extend the period of his summons permanently… but he could only apply it to one summoning a day.
One skill or spell per day.
His precious goats were gone, but the next batch, hah. This would be a fun, lucrative partnership. It was a bit of a power fantasy, but Momonga could see himself rising to Touch Me's level at this rate, a mage having the power to slay a World Champion… perhaps even Raid Bosses solo.
Astarion was starting to like Momonga.
The necromancer was a clever bastard, quite a charlatan like himself, playing with those cultists like a fiddle and having them work around camp as free manual labor.
Plus, he was filthy rich. He had quite a mountain of secrets, but who cares? He had wealth, a charming voice, and great wits.
He had such an air of mystery around him, hiding quite a secret. Not a single skin exposure, everything was covered as if to hide something. The necromancer might not be alive like him if his mention of the magical items he wore on him were a lie. He would be surprised if the man behind the mask was something else, like a Devil or… some aberration.
He didn't know why he didn't call this a Bag of Holding, though.
He stored all of the food he could get with the gems he traded with Arron, that halfling trader, along with the few magical items he found interesting for the necromancer.
Though… It didn't hurt to explore the Tiefling community.
It was a bonafide refugee camp in the wilds. Pitched tents, wooden wagons, wood crates, and barrels, even oxes and hay bales, with a tiefling farmer tending to the animals.
Quite a settlement, horned midget pickpockets tried to rob him blind; how adorable they were. Still, he admired the attempt, and he was feeling generous, so he decided to see what they sold. The only valuable thing the little red tiefling girl, Mattis, had were the Thieves' Tools, something he would graciously use.
He passed three tieflings, well, three adults and a child, the parents hugging the little girl.
Now, to find these mysterious companions of theirs. He wanted to show off his new daggers, probably to make them jealous.
"What business do you have here, elf?"
However, when he walked down the winding slopes to the so-called Sacred Pool, he was stopped by three annoying tieflings, a bearded gnome, a dark-skinned female human, and a handsome man with dark green face paintings under his eyes and chin, very stylish, all wearing twigs as deer antlers and leaves-decorated clothing.
"Ah, I get that I stick out like a pale thumb. I'm only meeting up with the others, well, me and my two companions," Astarion gestured to the dwarf and githyanki meat puppets.
The Githyanki waved his hand, apparently Withers had a small sense of humor.
Astarion would call him free blood bags, honestly, willing, good, constantly fresh source of sustenance. Astarion owed Momonga, or Suzuki Sataru, for his generous donation for free sapient blood! A hundred of his gold currency for fresh blood on the go was a steal in Astarion's opinion, though unless he grew tired of the taste, but still, free walking blood bags! He no longer had to hunt for animal blood with these guys!
He could feel that things were finally starting to look up for him after centuries of sorrow. At this rate, they would march to Baldur's Gate and break into Cazador's mansion together, murder the shit out of that bastard, and live happily ever after! He could feel a good spark rubbing between him and the necromancer.
Still, he hoped that whatever got Momonga serious was over with. He'd never seen someone armed with so many magical items so nervous. Actually, Momonga was the first wizard he'd seen so stacked. He couldn't imagine the cost of his equipment, so filthy rich.
"Others? You're with the group that killed the goblins?" The man with the dark-green face paint asked, his wary eyes scanning him from head to toe.
His eyes were locked onto the daggers on his waist.
"Your weapons dangling from your hips feel strange… where did you get them? They look fancy," the gnome asked, pointing at the Frostblood Daggers.
"Oh, don't worry about them. So, am I good to go, lady and gentlemen?" Astarion asked.
The three exchanged glances at Astarion, Astarion smiling with his hands clapped together.
The druids exchanged glances before the woman walked aside.
Astarion saw the ritual Arron was talking about.
The druids circled an idol of what he assumed was Sylvanus atop a rock podium in the center of the Sacred Pool, he could feel and see the mystical green energy of nature swirling around it.
Astarion blinked when he swore he saw the infamous Volothamp Geddarm in the flesh writing notes while… talking to a brown bear.
Well, it was probably best to leave that untouched, but he probably needed directions- never mind.
He saw a blue, ram-horned tiefling walking out of the sliding stone door. He didn't think that thing was a door.
"This grove is a dead end. That midget bitch tried to shank me. Can't you believe that?"
The blue-skinned tiefling was ranting.
"At least you got a bottle of Wyvern poison from her."
The snarky half-elf cleric remarked.
"Please, like I have the time to pour poison on my blade or arrow. And she wanted me to drink it before I turn. Ugh….. may I help you?"
"Ah, hello, darlings. Our mutual friend sent me. Tall, broad, dark, wearing a freaky mask, and very rich. Someone, you know?" Astarion wiggled his eyebrows.
The party seemed larger than Momonga informed him.
There was a female Githyanki in silver armor, another wizard with brown hair and purple robes, and a handsome dark-skinned gentleman with a blind eye.
"...Does he wear a mask and pull things out of his sleeve?" The tiefling asked.
"Who else am I talking about? Anyways, Momon sent me, hun, um, I mean us," Astarion forgot about the meat puppets, "ahead to meet with you. I'm Astarion. It's a pleasure to meet you, darling."
Astarion offered his hand.
"Uhh… Tavlana Stargazer."
Tavlana accepted the handshake. Her hand was calloused yet smooth, gripping.
"I must say. I didn't expect to meet more companies than mentioned. Picked up along the way?" Astarion glanced at the two humans and the Githyanki.
"Long story. Where's our mutual tall friend? I've seen he's given you something nice…" Tavlana glanced at his magic daggers.
"What a way to make a lady jealous. I don't suppose that he left something for us?" The snarky half-elf asked.
"These things are wonderful, am I right? I like him already. We have some good news about our mutual situation," Astarion pointed at his head, the parasite, "although he's… preoccupied with something. Don't know what. But I don't want to pry."
"...Where is he?" The white dragonborn asked.
"Don't know. But it sounds serious. I hope he's alright…"
Astarion truly wished for his well-being. Honestly, Momonga could be his first friend… a real friend in a sense, not just because Momonga was rich as hell, though.
There was a massive shift in the Blood War in Avernus.
Since yesterday, when a wizard arrived and massacred the Tanar'ri, the Devils have been busy with the invasion effort. The Devils farming souls from the River Styx were sloppy, the numbers of Baator were still strong and growing larger.
Soon, the Abyss would be the main battleground of the Blood War. The Archdevils might intervene with Zariel's invasion to take some of the cake, which was Pazunia, the first layer of the Abyss. Otherwise, all that land would fall under Zariel's jurisdiction, and the possibility of a new Archdevil rising to govern the conquered layer was high.
It was said that whoever controlled Pazunia would control the Abyss. If they lost the first layer, which had access to many of the lower levels of the Abyss, they would be forced to concentrate all of their efforts on pushing the Devils out.
Tsalkir was a Lich from Oerth, one with her own wizard tower hidden in the Underdark of that world. She was a recluse who spent most of her time studying magic and had connections with both the Infernal and the Abyssal.
She wore the blue robes of a wizard with magical glyphs of golden thread vertically sewn in the middle. Her skin was still intact, maintained through cosmetic magics, smooth yet grey and slightly rubbery from the undeath. Her green eyes were still as pristine as the day she was alive.
She was watched from afar, not when it started, but saw near the end.
Massive aberrations of towering height and girth trampled the Tanar'ri, demonic hordes fleeing from black hooves, the cries of goats singing to the blood sky in the cacophonous rhythms of splattered Demons, fighting alongside the Devils and bringing them absolute victory; untold millions sent back to the Abyss so fast it was a realm record.
She was around long enough to watch from afar, using a magical tool for farsight…
She saw the mage that Zariel greeted, unable to hear. She learned from the Imps under her service that it was a Lich like her.
It sparked her curiosity: What kind of divine being decided to invest in Zariel to win against the Abyss? Only a Greater God could have the power to massacre that many Demons and command such abominations to wipe out the Abyss. Or... a wizard with access to the lost magics Mystra sealed after the fall of Netheril.
The gods do not interfere with the Blood War, not even those of the evil alignment. They let Asmodeus and the legions of the Abyss kill each other for eternity rather than do anything about it. There have been attempts to stop the Blood War in the past, but all of them have failed.
Zariel was one of the examples, a Solar of Lathander before, now a Fallen Angel under Asmodeus.
Tsalkir returned to Avernus, hoping to draw souls from the River Styx further upstream before they reached the Devils, perhaps some stray Soul Larvae if she was lucky.
Other creatures, like Liches and Beholders, tend to linger in Avernus, looking for stray souls to feed their Phylacteries or fallen weapons to collect.
She teleported to the small clearing with the help of a magical item, one surrounded by jagged mountains, sizeable enough to host a small collection of unlucky Soul Larvae and Lemures squirming around the unholy shores of grounded, sharp minerals.
"Ah. Another one."
However, surprisedly, she saw the mage that spoke to Zariel yesterday.
Before she could react or speak, her mind dulled as an alien influence overrode her will.
This was absurd.
She was a Lich with centuries of history in Oerth. She paid a high price to Vecna for the secrets of Lichdom and worked under his service for several decades before being able to form her own wizard tower in the Underdark.
Nothing could dominate her. The only beings that could dominate Liches like the ordinary dead were beings of the Divine, Archdevils, or Demon Lords like Orcus, and that was when Orcus raised the liches himself!
"Alright, let's be quick. Bring me your phylactery; do not resist, and do it cleanly."
"Yes, my master."
The words automatically left her corpse lips as she used the magic item on her to return to her magic tower.
What was happening? She had lost the autonomy of her body, now a passenger in the carriage.
After appearing in her study room, filled with dissected corpses, surgical tools, and notes on her magical studies of the arcane and necromancy, she used [Teleport Without Error] to appear at the site where her phylactery was stored.
It was an unassuming gold coin of Oerth currency hidden in the grand oceans of Oerth in a box within the remains of an ancient warship.
Ignoring the aquatic life, the numerous traps, and the undead Kraken she placed here, she retrieved the box containing her phylactery and cast [Gate]. She couldn't even send a mental command to the zombie Kraken to do something. Her pride and confidence in her might were utterly shattered as she returned to her new master.
Water surged through the portal to Avernus as she walked through, kneeling before the mage as liquid dripped down into the salty sands of the shores.
"Interesting… What is the object that contains your soul?" The mage with the face of a demonic skeleton asked.
"A gold coin."
She spilled her secret instantly. She could not resist this thing's power. Her eternal unlife was in his hands.
He opened the box and saw a gold coin resting peacefully in the cushions, her soul.
Her nonexistent heart was beating in despair at the sight of the greater lich taking her Phylactery.
"Good, you weren't lying. I'm in need of functioning hands, and making Undead soldiers all day long is a chore I would rather avoid. I have things to do, and Liches seems to have much free time."
She did not like his words.
She was being forced into a contract of servitude.
"You probably have questions, but I've already spoken to six liches before you, so I'm tired. You may speak to a representative on the matter. Oh, and don't think about escaping."
He waved her gold coin phylactery before her eyes.
Before she knew it, he touched her, and her vision shifted.
"I suggest you refrain from any notion of violence, my dear. I understand you are confused and scared, but please take a seat."
The influence was gone.
The domination receded, yet she couldn't move a muscle, still dazed as she stared at the blue-skinned cambion sitting behind a desk of basalt draped with fine red tapestry.
There was a contract of infernal paper on the desk.
She had no words.
"You are permitted to negotiate for your benefit in return for your service in the Blood War."
Her mind slowly returned from her stupor as she listened to this blue cambion.
The wizard teleported her against her will into an infernal chamber…
"I…"
"I understand. The other six were equally speechless when our new War Mage brought them in. You will be serving under his banner when we invade Pazunia."
Her jaw opened and shut, trying to form the right words. She wanted to escape, to… do something, but her life was in that wizard's hands. The cambion was guarded by four Cornugons, horned devils armored in infernal iron plate armor and glaives.
That did not matter. The lich that dominated her had her phylactery.
Without a word, understanding her position, still plagued by the shock and fear of knowing how easily the lich obtained her phylactery, she sat down in the basalt chair and looked at the contract.
Momonga received much knowledge from the contract and made sure to avoid any vague outlines.
His services started and ended with at least the successful establishment of a long-term base in Pazunia where the Devils could stage their invasions. The conditions for establishing the base were vague, but Zariel negotiated them.
The successful repelling of demonic forces resulted in a victory in Pazunia, which was one of them.
With the help of his new Erinyes, Nariangela, he included some safeguards in case the odds were unfavorable to their invasion or if he wished to depart during the invasion. However, Zariel showed some displeasure in that.
It was essential to state damages in the clause should either party fail to fulfill the other's expectations.
He had received the knowledge of many schools of magic, evocation, transmutation, divination, illusion, abjuration, enchantment, necromancy, conjuration, and the advantages of each school.
He had reaped everything he could obtain, permanent knowledge of spells and abilities, including an infernal spellbook in which he would inscribe spells to memorize and use… but Momonga preferred to use magic the Yggdrasil way. Still, at least he obtained all of the knowledge of wizardry and the finer workings of the Weave through the contract, though he had no idea about the history of the Weave in general. He would question some wizard savant on the matter later on to fill in the gaps in his knowledge.
He was now considered an Archwarlock of Avernus, assuming that a job like that existed. Still, he could feel the infernal power coursing inside him along with the eldritch knowledge most warlocks could only dream of obtaining.
He felt like he was on top of the world, he so wanted to challenge Touch Me at this point.
He could summon Devils to his beck and call, imps the least he could summon.
He used [All Appraisal Magic Item] to learn about the history of the gold coin phylactery.
The information impressed him. The spells and ingredients needed to shove the woman's soul into this small coin were worthy of her talents as a wizard, and the process of lichdom astounded him. He would use them to help further his knowledge of magic and experiment on the undead of this reality. He would use [Control Amnesia] on them to erase their discussions on magic and the world.
Although if he could extract every bit of information from their minds magically, he would take it.
Hell, he wanted to see if he could grant others power through Pact Magic, his gaze turning to Nariangela.
"Are we done, my lord?" The female fallen angel asked.
"Indeed."
Momonga would rather not overcommit.
It was his idea to enslave the liches that loitered in Avernus for stray souls and ingredients into the service of Zariel when he learned about them, usually under his legion.
Yes, he had a legion now.
He stated he wanted those he could trust or else he would surround himself with his undead.
He learned he could sacrifice corpses to extend their duration to permanence.
His Death Knight and Death Warrior still stood strong and awaited on Zariel's flying fortress.
They were ready to depart through the River Styx on a voyage to Pazunia.
However, Momonga was curious about how the other Archdevils would attempt to interfere with Zariel's invasion of Pazunia. Zariel did not want to give the infernal bureaucracy or her traitorous allies a chance to sabotage her greatest works.
He had learned the names of the Archdevils by asking his Erinyes servant. Honestly, the one he was most worried about was this Asmodeus.
He shared the name of one of the Seven Deadly Sins, Demon World Enemy Level Bosses.
He was the Devil of his reality, the Biblical Devil equivalent. He was not confident that he could outwit an ancient intelligence of that level, and he wasn't sure if he could kill him, even at his current power level.
According to what he recently understood, Avernus was a part of Asmodeus' domain.
Nine layers of Baator, nine hells… all under the Biblical Devil's control.
'Hah…'
Momonga didn't want to review the details; it was too much for his mind.
He teleported both him and Nariangela back to the docks.
It was called the Stygian Docks, but the docks did not maintain typical ships. They were built to support Zariel's flying fortresses.
Her fortress was designed to be like… how should he say this? It was framed after a long, acute, three-dimensional right triangle of infernal stone and metal; the flat, straight lines smoothed over to make it what it was.
Though he said right triangles, it was more like oversized jagged daggers when looked from the sides, glowing grooves of infernal orange inscribed on the sides of the 'blade,' the bottom of the fortress ending in a scorpion-stinger tip.
It levitated vertically, like a hellish dagger ready to stab the world.
When Momonga heard about the Stygian Docks, he imagined normal-looking docks, fantasy-style, by the supernatural river of blood.
The docks did not cater to water-sailing vessels.
It catered to the flying sword fortresses.
Two massive iron structures that looked like mechanical arms on each side of the River Styx lifted to hold the sword fortress. Hefty clamps, chains, and bars affixed to the docking arms exist to lash large vessels between them.
At the bottom of the citadel, he could see an orange node sucking up the essence of the river, the essence being the souls of the damned slurped into the orange vortex.
The skies were blotted with flying Devils, Imps, Cambions, Cornugons, Bone Devils, a few Pit Fiends - the whole swarm.
Avernus was excited about the invasion.
Momonga was excited to test his new abilities, breaking through the level 100 limit. He wanted to grow so powerful he could solo a World Enemy one day.
A Pit Fiend, General Thadrik, landed before Momonga.
"When will we depart?"
Warships of Infernal Iron moored the blood river of souls, Devils ready to march to war on Avernus territory, prepared to kill many Tanar'ri for their promotions, hordes of Bearded Devils, Merregons, Orthons, and more were prepared to board the sailing warships, blotting the infernal wasteland.
"Soon, Commander Suzuki. The legions are preparing for the voyage."
Zariel will lead the charge through the flying sword fortress.
"Excellent. Lead me to the war room. I want to discuss our strategy before we arrive at Pazunia."
I have been researching Zariel to the best of my ability, even relying on YouTube videos. Did you know that Zariel once stole treasure from Tiamat as war funds for her Blood War? I didn't. It is funny as hell, though. Bel, the Archdevil that ruled Avernus before Zariel, even deposed Zariel for a time and threw her at Tiamat's mercy. Lots of treachery here and there.
Still need some researchers to save time writing stuff. I mean, I would waste hours and thousands of words researching DnD lore… and you guys know how hungry you bastards are for content XD