← Critical Role & Sagas of Sundry
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- [00:01]
Dan Casey
Greetings, adventurers. This is Dan Casey from Sagas of Sundry Goblin Mode. Now, we know you love immersive storytelling and presumably tabletop role playing games. So this week we're going to bring you an episode of another show that we love, D and D Legends and Lore. Legends and Lore brings to life the stories that D D's decades of lore has to offer, as well as deep diving into said lore and presenting it in a digestible manner perfect for inspiring your own game of Dungeons and Dragons. Whether you're a dungeon master, a player, or just someone who enjoys learning about and experiencing great fantasy, D and D Legends and Lore is the podcast you've been waiting for. Wondrous magic, terrifying monsters, gods, demons and unnamable horrors from beyond time and space, all brought to life in detail in a podcast that runs on the imagination. Join them as they venture from the deepest pit of the Nine Hells to the enchanted forest of Arvandor, telling tales both valiant and villainous. DD Legends and Lore can be found on Spotify, YouTube, Apple Podcasts, or anywhere you get your podcasts. And now onto the show.
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Unknown Speaker 1
Bingo Blitz rules.
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Unknown Speaker 2
If your bingo has ads in it.
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Unknown Speaker 3
That'S not a bingo.
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Unknown Speaker 2
If it doesn't have the coolest tournaments, minigames and the most breathtaking design, nope, not a bingo. If your bingo moment makes you feel so excited that you just want to burst in joy and scream out loud, bingo.
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Unknown Speaker 1
Sorry.
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Unknown Speaker 2
So you're playing Bingo Blitz.
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Unknown Speaker 3
Now that's a bingo. Cover a world of excitement with Bingo Blitz, the number one free bingo game. Download Bingo Blitz and play for free.
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Unknown Speaker 2
Now that's a bingo.
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Unknown Speaker 1
Monsters. Those creatures, both strange and grotesque, that represent the most primordial of human emotion, fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of danger, of violence, of death. And so often we attach physical abhorrentness to these monsters. We imagine teeth that tear, claws that rend, scales, fur, feathers, horns, strange inhuman appendages, sickly hues, putrid smells, and eyes that shine in the dark. The bizarre, deformed and otherworldly, embodying all that is wrong and evil in the stories we tell. Dungeons and Dragons is no exception to this. Creeping down in dungeons deep or stalking by the dark of night, countless monsters lurk in, wait, waiting to snuff out light and life. Dragons, demons, eldritch aberrations, undead horrors and other monstrosities are not mere myth, but very real, tangible dangers to the lives of those who dwell in the realms of D and D lives, where dark gods conspire for their very souls. Fiends gleefully Attempt to sow destruction and death, and monsters hunger for flesh and bone. Woe to thee who ventures here, for here there be dragons. And so who then can blame the denizens of such worlds for missing the truth we so often forget? In our own, much more mundane world, we fear the monsters of our imagination. The beasts and boogeymen, the shadows and specters, those abominations born of our nightmares and dark fantasies, born of all we fear. But the truth of it is that both our world and the worlds of Dungeons and Dragons have one particular thing in common. Monsters. True monsters, the ones most vile and horrifying are not born. They are made. I am Omar Timsaw, and this is DD Legends and Lore the city of Fleeth, Jewel of the East. A city of shining white. In sheer juxtaposition against the wild lands that surround it. The white walls of Fleeth stand proudly upon the eastern plains as a stronghold of civilization and order. Here the divine power, Foltes, God of light, law and order, rules. And his clergy, dressed in silky white gown and cassock trimmed with gold and silver and embroidered with suns and moons, are the body of law. The the Fultons teach that it was their God that set the sun and the moon in the sky and maintains them in their rigid procession to show all creatures the one true way, a strict path which allows no deviation, but absolutely assures rightness. Others say that Foltest's order is not but tyranny. Dressed in robes of white and the words of the righteous, whether through tyranny or divine enediction, for nearly 1,000 years, Fleethus sparkled on the plains of eastern oeric. For nearly 1,000 years, the tribes of Flanas, the native people of these lands, have bent the knee to the clergy of Foltes and their shining city. For nearly 1,000 years, Fleeth has profited and prospered. But on this day, Fleeth was on the brink. The city was under siege. On all sides of the holy city was encamped an army like no other. For this army was composed of both the living and the dead. For centuries now, a dark tide had been growing in the west. A tide that had seen the tribes and settlements of the plains fall one by one. And now the tribes of Flanness had been wholly conquered and united under a single banner. They had all come to heal under a new master. Those who resisted or stood against this master were first to die, only for their bones and corpses to be raised to serve in death. And what was once a far flung territory became a fiefdom which then became a kingdom, and now, some whispered, was an empire. An empire that had finally come to lay its claim on the shining city of Fleeth. Spanning the gap between the enemy army and the white walls of Fleeth was the carnage and death of a great battle. Fleeth had suffered tremendous loss. In their zeal, they had thought to meet the enemy in open battle. Now the only thing between this vile and dark enemy and themselves were the city walls and the protective shield of pure, radiant light maintained at all times by the priests of Foltess. Hope was wearing thin. Time was running out. The city was surrounded. And amidst the teeming hordes of ghouls, zealot tribesmen, ruthless sellswords, dark necromancers and blackguard knights that threatened the safety and sanctity of Fleeth. Only one name dominated the minds of the denizens of the besieged city. Vecna. Vecna the Undying King. Vecna the whispered one. Vecna the Lord of the rotted Tower. The people of Fleeth dared not speak his name above more than a whisper. Such was the legend of his dark power. He had subjugated the Flann tribes and carved out a kingdom in the Sheldomar Valley through fear and conquest alone. And now he was at their doorstep. If not for the shielding light of Foltes, maintained by constant prayer and ritual from the Fulton high clergy protecting their borders, the city would have been conquered days ago. For now, the siege lay in a stalemate. The forces of the Undying King found themselves sealed out of the city. And the defenders of Fleeth, though safe, were sealed within upon a throne of corpses and skulls. Vecna the Undying stared down at the city, shielded by the light of Foltess suspended above in the dark night sky hung low. The two moons of Oerth both were nearly fully occluded in the darkness. And a knowing smile crept across the taunt flesh of the undead wizard's face. The time for his plan was soon to come with the changing of the moons. But his smile did not reach his eyes. For in his eyes burned a seething, depraved hatred. A hatred so potent it would not be quelled save by fire and blood. A hatred so uncompromising that allies closest to the undead king knew that this was more than mere expansion of his empire. This was personal. Mazel walked with her son down the streets of Fleeth. She refused to acknowledge or notice the hushed voices or looks of unease that followed them as they made their way. She was used to them. Her people The Irflan were shunned and feared by others even before the colonization of Fleeth. They were mystics, druids of the old faith known as the Irflani. The Flan feared her people's association with dark powers better left alone. And with the coming of the Fultons, this ostracization only continued. Called the Untouchable Clan, the few remaining Irflan were designated to a job that befit their station in the eyes of both Flann and Fulton alike. They were made handlers of the dead, embalmers and undertakers. And how those who worshipped and prayed to the God of light and life so hated associating with those who worked in the dead. Dark and with the dead. Disdain and denigration were all Mazel had ever known. The fools, all of them. What did they know of her people or their ways? Nothing. They knew not of the old faith, of her people's chosen status in the eyes of the serpent, the personification of magic itself. The serpent who bestowed upon the Earl an inherent connection with the arcane and through them performed great wonders. No, they knew nothing and for the better. For in the city of Fleeth, practice of the arcane was strictly forbidden. Only divine magic was permitted, for all else was considered anathema to Foltess. Mazel looked at her son, who followed her closely. She was proud of him. He had taken to the ways of the serpent naturally. His potential was great. In secret, she instructed him, and his prowess greatly surpassed her own when she was his age. In secret, she taught him, and he had proven quite gifted at keeping the secret. Good. It would serve him well for their lot in life. Being handlers of the dead was not enough to keep food on their plates. Like her, Mazil's son would have to be creative to keep them fed and sheltered. Mazel dreamed of a day the serpent might bless them so mightily that they could escape this life. But until then. Mazel saw the drop off point for the delivery. A dark alley off the city walkway. There were those in the city who needed her services and would pay for them, if only by dark and in secret. Mazel was surprised by the appearance of a rendezvous. A woman in fine silks waited in the alleyway. Whoever the client was, if even their servant was dressed in silk, it only meant one high nobility. The transaction went accordingly. Mazel handed the woman a slim vial in exchange for silver. She gave her instructions on dosage, when to take it, and the dangers of doing counter to her instruction, the magic within the vial would do the deed the partaker so desperately sought thought done. As the client swept out of the alleyway in a rush, Mazel looked down at the coins left in her hand. The glimmer of gold caught Mazel's eyes. She gasped. This was an astonishing amount of money for her services. More than she would ever dare charge. Maybe even enough to escape this city of zealots. Her mind raced. She, in that moment, dared to dream. Her mind a swim with fantasies of freedom and a life without want. It was thus that Masil failed to see the dark, looming figures approach from behind. Before she could react to her son's startled scream, she felt the sharp blow to her head. As she fell, she saw the insignia of the kingsguard on their armor. No, not high nobility. Royalty, she thought. A cover up. Then. No witnesses allowed to live that might attest to the royal family trafficking and illegal arcane activities. She had walked herself and her son into certain death. Mazel awoke to the pungent smell of oil and the sound of a jeering crowd. She was tied to a post atop piles of wood and straw. All around her, the citizens of Fleeth screamed. They called her witch. They called her unclean, a slight to the sun God himself. Arcane magic was forbidden within the walls of Fleeth, and there was only one punishment for it. Death by burning. In the crowd, Mazil saw her son held in bonds. He might very well be next. As the fires went up, Masil prayed to the serpent. In desperation, she prayed for deliverance. She prayed for vengeance. She prayed for death to her enemies. But above all else, she prayed for her son's safety. And when her scream of agony rent the air, the crowd hushed in horror. Not horror at what they had done, but horror at what they saw descending from above. From the night sky descended a great serpent of mist and magic. It came before the burning Mazel and opened its great maw. Her soul then left her body to join with the serpent and become a part of magic itself. Such was the fate of all Irflani who venerated the serpent. Then it turned to the crowd. In an instant there was chaos as the people of Fleeth scrambled to flee before the deific snake. In the chaos, Mazel's son was broken free. But he did not flee. He stared at the serpent that loomed over him. And the serpent stared back. Masil's son was alone in the square as he stared at his mother's now ashen corpse. No tears streaked his face, but upon his heart and soul rested a malediction, a silent swear for vengeance. It had been 900 years since that day. Vecna hardly remembered the boy who watched his whole world burn before his eyes. He vaguely recalled the years he spent honing his craft, until eventually he assumed a mastery of the dark arts of magic. And he eventually achieved with that mastery something that no mortal before or since. The immortality of undeath paired with the preservation of his soul. Vecna, the dark necromancer turned king, had ascended to something more. A Lich, an Archmage that would never die. But even after all of this time, Vecna remembered quite clearly what the serpent had whispered to him on that day. And he remembered the curse of vengeance that he swore. Tonight was the night that vengeance was realized. Under the dark of the two new moons, when Foltess power was at its weakest, Vecna would strike. He would use his magic to hide a siege tower under a veil of invisibility. His ghouls would breach the walls in the dead of night, and he would stride through the shield of light. It would be unpleasant, but with the changing of the moons, it would not be fatal. Once through, he would harness all his magic to twist time and space itself, to open a portal for his armies to penetrate the hallowed barrier and into the heart of the city. By morning, the city would be his. The plan unfolded just as Vecna had designed. The ghoul swarmed the walls of Fleeth, opening a path for the Archlich. Vecna hovered over the wall and up to the barrier of light. He paused for a moment. Then he moved into it. The light seared him. It burned his decrepit form and nearly blinded him. But Vecna endured. He need only push forward a bit more to pass through. But then he came upon something firm and immutable. A hard light construct barred his passing. Something was wrong. Vecna's knowledge of divine magic was not as extensive as the arcane, but this was not the structure of a protective barrier. It was then that Vecna realized that the barrier light of Foltess wasn't a mere shield. It was a trap. The explosion that resulted from the detonation of the Fulton Light Shield was enough to brighten the night sky today. For miles around, the holy light evaporated hundreds of undead and burned shadows into where they stood. The shockwave cracked the walls of the city and sent Vecna's troops into chaotic disarray. The Lich's body was shattered and aflame as it came crashing to the earth nearly a mile from the city walls. And Vecna knew that these next few moments of burning agony would be his last.
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Unknown Speaker 4
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Unknown Speaker 1
Acererak was named Monster the day he was born the result of the union between a Balor, an exceptionally powerful demon named Tarnham, and a human woman named Cassethri. Acererak was a Cambion, a child who was half fiend and half mortal. As such, his existence was an abomination in the eyes of the flan. His mother, Kesethri, raised her son the best she could. They lived at the fringes of society, eking out a meager existence. Acererak and Ksethri foraged what food they could, sold what little they had for small comfort, and sheltered in the flanness wilderness. Kesethri kept her son as secluded as she could. She feared what might occur if the people of the nearby villages learned of her son's half demon heritage. For 10 years they made this their life. But in the end, their secret was discovered. Still just a 10 year old child, Acererak could only watch as a mob took and murdered his mother and burned their home to the ground. With Acererax still inside. If not for Acererax in human nature, he never would have survived the flames long enough to flee. How long is Acererak endured the hardships of squalor? He did not know. But when Vecna's army marched upon the very same village that murdered his mother, Acererak rejoiced. The thrill of vengeance visited upon his enemies made his demonic blood sing. And when Vecna's forces spotted the boy and ruthlessly captured him, Acererak felt no fear or despair. Despair. He had lived long enough to see those that had harmed him meet an even worse fate. What else was there to live for? What good was living at all? Then Acererak saw him, adorned in gold and silk, with an ornate crown to match. Vecna glared down from his throne, his corpse like face a stark contrast to the regalia in which he dressed. In his eyes shone a cold, dead hatred. Not hatred of Acererak specifically, but an all encompassing disdain for all things, for all life. Here was a soul who endured through his hatred alone. Acererak was in awe. So enraptured was Acererak that he did not hear the conversation between the Lich King and his advisors. He did not hear their recommendations to their lord. That execution would be the easiest solution, that the demonic blood in the boy would make him untrustworthy to their cause. That Vecna need not even lower himself to deal with this issue. They would take care of it promptly. Vecna stared at Acererak for a long moment. Perhaps Vecna was sympathetic to the boy. Perhaps he saw something of himself in Acererak's plight, or perhaps he simply didn't like the tone of his advisors that day. But what happened next was burned into Acererak's memory for all time. The Lich King raised his hand to silence his advisors, and with a snap of his bony fingers, they were all dead. And in his mind, Acererak heard a whisper. Perhaps it is time I took on an apprentice. Years passed, and Acererak served Vecna dutifully. He showed great promise under the Undying One's tutelage, and he assisted his master in countless dark rituals and necromantic rites. And as Acererak star rose, so did his own ambition. He became a trusted advisor and military leader in the campaigns of Vecna's imperial expansion. And Acererarrak became a name to fear in its own right. But Acererak wanted more. He respected and in some ways even worshiped his master. But Vecna's secrecy vexed him. Acererak wished more than anything to be allowed within the Rotted Tower, Vecna's personal laboratory, and be shown magics both deep and terrible. He wanted the secret of Vecna's immortality. Acererak wished, too, to become a Lich. But Vecna would not. He was too guarded, too prudent, too paranoid. How could Acererak gain his master's utmost trust? It was in the Empire siege of Fleeth that Acererak found his chance. He would take advantage of Vecna's personal stake in the city's raising. Uncharacteristically blinded by emotion, perhaps the Archlich would not notice a trap set right in front of him. It was time Acererak paid the Fultons a visit. In disguise, of course. They just needed a little advice, a little push in the right direction. And if Vecna took the bait, Acererak would be there to save him. Vecna's consciousness returned, and with it came the realization that he should be dead. But dead he was not. Or at least undead he remained. It was not long before Vecna had heard the tale of how Acererak rescued his burning corpse from the field of battle. How he alone had kept the armies from falling away after their Overlord was smote. How Acererak had poured every ounce of his magical ability into keeping Vecna stable while he recovered. Vecna called Serrarak to attend him. He stared intently at his Cambion apprentice. In the blink of an eye, the Lord of the Rotted Tower had almost Lost it all. His empire, his magic. His immortality. And if not for this boy now grown, his armies would have dispersed to the winds, giving Fleeth and the surrounding kingdoms time to recover. He stared at Acererak and realized he had greatly underestimated him. It was time his newest general led the charge on the white walls of Fleeth. Without the barrier light of Foltes, Fleeth was in an unwinnable position. The siege had already, long ago worn down their food and supplies. The citizens were resorting to eating rats and vermin. And the army of the dead outside their walls had no such needs as food and water. It would not be long before the walls fell to Vecna and Acererarararak's assaults. And so the council of Fulton priests, along with their high priest, surrendered themselves. Vecna's forces, they beseeched Vecna, Asking for mercy. They offered up the entire city and her wealth, if only Vecna would spare the lives of her citizens. But Vecna was not satisfied with this. So the officials begged and pleaded. They offered their own lives in exchange for Vecna's mercy on the citizenry. And so. So Vecna gave one of their number and his family over to one of his most feared lieutenants, a fallen paladin named Kass, who spent the entire day torturing and murdering them before the other officials. And yet, Vecna found himself still unsatisfied. And so he ordered the slaughter of all within the city walls and had their heads stacked before the officials, with those of their family members made most prominent. It was then that Vecna decided to grant his mercy. He granted the officials leave to depart, and in a perverse sense of irony, he promised them his protection for the rest of their lives, so they might live with the horror of this day for as long as possible. Years passed after the fall of Fleeth. Vecna's empire continued to expand. He conquered vast realms and swept great cities beneath earth and rock. Within his rotted tower, an obsidian structure that rose from the bottom of the black waters of the near Div to stretch far above its surface. He penned his dark thoughts into an artifact of great power today known as the Book of Vile Darkness. And Vecna grew dissatisfied. He was the most powerful wizard in the history of Earth. He was an orphan who became a king, who in turn became an immortal emperor. But as that power grew, Vecna became even more paranoid. Even an immortal being could die. As he had learned so well in the siege of Fleeth, there was only one way to assure his everlasting life. For in a world of men, magic and empires, only one thing withstood the pass of time indefinitely. The gods. They were true mortals, impossible or nearly impossible to slay. Yes, Vecna was the first to master life itself through his unmatched knowledge of necromancy. He would also be the first to master immortality itself and ascend to true godhood. It was only a matter of time. Come to me. Focus Features invites you to succumb to the darkness. From director Robert Eggers comes a masterpiece of horror. He is coming. This creature is a force more powerful than evil. He is death itself. Nosferatu we did R117 nanometer without parent only in theaters Christmas Day special engagements in Dolby and IMAX.
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Unknown Speaker 5
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Unknown Speaker 1
Acererak fled by dark of night. How it had come to pass, he did not know. But Vecna had discovered his treachery on that day, so long ago, outside the walls of Fleeth. Perhaps in his soul mongering, Vecna had come across knowledge possessed by only the long dead. Or perhaps it was the whispering of the serpent his master told him of. As Sarerak had suspected for some time, if the serpent was real, it perhaps might explain Vecna's prodigal rise of power at such a young age. Regardless, Acererak was not going to linger to discover how Vecna had uncovered his betrayal. Acererak was done here he had gained the knowledge he had wanted, the secrets of immortality through undeath. How to travel planes and worlds far and wide. And the time had come to begin his own legend. After Acererak's escape, Vecna's rage, always a fearsome thing, rose to new heights. Not only had the most powerful mage who overcame death been tricked by an underling into revealing his most closely guarded knowledge, the thief had escaped retribution entirely. Vecna swore that from then on, he would protect all of his secrets with a fervor that bordered on religious fanaticism. While Vecna's power grew, his obsession with secrecy became a literal religion to those who worshiped him. Among those zealots was a ruthless, cruel soldier named Kass. Before the time Of Acererak and his deception of Vecna, there was Kass. Kass was a human paladin in Vecna's service, Drawn by visions of blood and a thirst for foes who would challenge his prowess at arms. Years earlier, he had pledged himself to a God of death. But Kass soon grew bored with mere death. It was the path to dying that fascinated him, and the more violent that path, the better. Kass wanted to swim forever in a red sea of combat, and chaining himself to Vecna's ambition would grant this wish. While Vecna assembled his forces for what would be his first successful major campaign, he became intrigued by Cass's passion for battle, his skill with the sword, and his recklessness. He was also entertained by the paladins hypocrisy in insisting on a fair fight before he mercilessly cut down his opponents. Kass rose through the ranks of Vecna's followers By eviscerating them when necessary to become one of the whispered one's top lieutenants. He gained the name bloody handed when, after the battle of Fleeth, Cass publicly tortured and then butchered an entire family chosen by Vecna for no other reason than to torment the city officials who were fooling enough to plea with Vecna for their citizens lives. In Kass, Vecna believed that he had found a reliable weapon as long as there was blood to be spilled. And even with the treachery of Acererak, an open sore on whatever small amount of trust Vecna still had, Vecna held no uncertainty of Cass loyalty. Kass had no interest in Vecna's arcane secrets. The warrior cared only for blood, steel, and dominating his enemies in combat. Over the years, Vecna and Kass talked often inside the rotted tower. They discussed future targets of invasion and rumors of recently discovered artifacts. Vecna also taught Kass to be craftier in battle. Although Kass's brutality was effective, Vecna's lieutenant would master more subtle tactics in order to overcome stronger foes that challenged the Lich's power. Eventually, Vecna used necromancy to extend Kass's life, Wishing to retain his trusted weapon as long as possible. When Kass's mortal form had reached the point when even Vecna's spells could sustain it no longer, the Lich fashioned for him a fanged mask of silver and channeled the energy of undeath into it. By wearing the silver mask and accepting its necromantic embrace, Kass willingly received the dark gift of vampirism. But eventually, as Vecna's empire grew, the whispered one was forced to reconcile with a problem he could not solve. He had not yet found the path to godhood, and in his current corporeal form, he was increasingly becoming unable to watch over all of his lands, slaves and future tests subjects alone. He would need to share power with another. Of course, Kass seemed the logical choice, But Vecna's practicality was mixed with paranoia. Even though a century had passed since Acererak's treason, the memory of that humiliation came to dominate Vecna's thoughts. And so the Master of secrets sought a window into even the possum ability of seditious thoughts that Kas might have. He made for Kas another gift. An enchanted sword of great power, forged from the frozen heart of a fallen star. As he spoke the final enchantments over it, he carefully pulled a thread of shadow from his own consciousness and wrapped it around the sword's black blade. From that point on, as long as Cass bore the sword, Vecna would be able to listen in on Cass's activities and even his thoughts. Cass was honored by Vecna's offering. According to the martial code that the vampire imagined he still followed. The gift of steel from the hand of a warrior's lord was among the greatest of honors. He felt the sword's strength the instant he drew it from its scabbard, made from the skin of gibbeted doppelgangers, and with his characteristic lack of imagination, named it the Sword of Kas. As for Vecna, his confidence was now supreme. More lands were being brought under his rule by sword spell and claw. His most powerful minions were obedient, or at least controlled. He now had an unobstructed path to his ultimate goal of godhood. But such confidence is a slow and insidious killer. His scheme to spy on Kass proved to be too clever. The sword of Kas not only contained part of Vecna's consciousness, It contained a portion of Vecna's avarice, obsession with secrecy and lust for knowledge. The sword's intelligence quickly wrapped itself in a mental cloak to sheath itself from Vecna's detection. And it began to feed Vecna false thoughts of obedience from Kass, While it instead nurtured rebellion in the vampire's heart. The sword turned against its creator. It believed that there could be only one true Master of Secrets, and it sought to seize that title by destroying Vecna. As the years passed, it subtly Influenced Kas mind, gradually convincing him that Vecna didn't want to share power with anyone, let alone a brutal, unsophisticated warrior. It also made Cass aware of Vecna's attempts to read his mind through the sword. The discovery of Vecna's distrust of him struck Cass's steadfastness like a hammer blow. Perhaps these thoughts he had been harboring were more than mere fancy. Perhaps it was time the student became the master. Kass wished to seek retribution on Vecna immediately, but the sword assured him that the ideal time would come. Of course, Kas was unaware of the sword's true motives, believing the sword was loyal only to him. And it was loyal in its way as long as Kass was committed to the death of Vecna. The time had finally come. Over a century of work had led to this moment. Through the use of artifacts and rituals, his own terrible intellect, and the harvested lives of thousands of victims, Vecna had finally gathered enough power to perform a new rite that would transform him into a God. His ascension was imminent, and with it, Vecna would finally attain that which he had sought for over 1000 years as a God. There would be none left who could defy him, none who could take from him, none that could betray him. Not ever again. The sword of Kas, sensing the powerful ritual atop the rotted tower, called for Kas to strike now and strike true. If the ritual was completed, it would be too late, and Vecna would become Uncle Unkillable. Kass leapt into action. He would slay Vecna during the ritual, seize control of his empire, and ascend to godhood himself in Vecna's place. While Vecna spoke the incantations under the stars, at the pinnacle of the rotted tower, Kass charged into the keep. Vecna's guards might have proven a challenge for Kass at one point, but the vampire's fury had been stoked to near insanity by the sword's whispers. The guards fell beneath his blade like wheat at the harvest. As they died, Vecna detected Kass's presence. He saw the sword's trickery and realized too late how his paladin's loyalties had been twisted. He tried to suspend the ritual, but the godlike power he had unleashed would not be contained just as well. For at that moment, Kass reached the top of the rotted tower, his blade and fangs dripping with blood. The Lich would need all of that power for battle. Perhaps, had the combat been on equal terms Vecna would have quickly felled the vampire. But whether due to the effect of interrupting the ritual, the sword's ability to anticipate its creator's attacks, or Kass great strength and stubborn refusal to die, the combat raged on. The two traded blow for blow. Vecna's spells were blazing fire and crashing thunder. Cass's strikes were quick as lightning and stronger than steel. Cass backed Vecna into the center of the ritual circle, its chaotic, thunderous energy now lashing them both. Vecna staggered Cass with a bolt of lightning, but as the Lich moved to finish him off, Cass lunged forward, slicing off Vecna's left hand. The vampire, his body crumbling faster than it could heal from the strain of Vecna's spells, pressed the attack. He shouted as he plunged his sword into Vecna's left eye, gouging it out. It was at this moment Cass's sword sensed its opportunity. Triumph would be its at last with a sword. With a surge of searing energy as bright as the sun, the sword poured all of its magic and malice into Vecna's body. The effect of the sword's act was like tossing a torch into a sea of oil. It set off an explosion so powerful that it completely annihilated the rotted tower, leaving naught but a smooth crater. Creatures for miles around were blinded and deafened in an instant. Vecna and Kass, at the center of the arcane maelstrom, were sent hurtling through the abyss between worlds. It was days before anyone dared approach the aftermath. Those that eventually did spoke of the utter destruction of a mile wide region, and the only objects that were found intact amongst the heaps of ash were Vecna's severed hand and eye and Cass's sword. And unfortunate discoveries they were. This episode was brought to you by our patrons, Nick Kifers, Noah Crawford, Daniel Paolilo, Tina Marie, Keith Devault, Tyler Lehman, Kevin Rigdon, Zach Ochoa, Frank Thames, Christian Roberts, and Kevin if you enjoyed this episode and want to support D and D legends and lore, subscribe to our Patreon where you can get early ad free episodes, D and D adventure kits, Legends and Lore, merch and live play D and D content. Also, if you enjoyed this episode, make sure to like, comment and most importantly, leave us an Apple podcast review or Spotify rating. It really helps make the show more searchable and reach even more future L and L fans. With that, we'll see you next time. And until then, may your games be adventuresome.
- [48:08]
Unknown Speaker 6
Nothing is as it seems in Liminal London. Hidden amongst everyday people are werewolves.
- [48:16]
Unknown Speaker 1
You'll be the werewolf then. Yeah. And Megs.
- [48:19]
Unknown Speaker 6
Wizards.
- [48:20]
Unknown Speaker 3
Montgomery Archibald Barker at your bloody service.
- [48:25]
Unknown Speaker 6
And those cursed by the fey monarchs of the city.
- [48:29]
Unknown Speaker 1
That can be Canon PI. He has quite a large pair of.
- [48:32]
Unknown Speaker 7
Antlers growing out of his forehead.
- [48:35]
Unknown Speaker 6
Join the unlikely misfits of liminal London as they work to take down the powers that claim to rule the city.
- [48:43]
Unknown Speaker 1
I think the queen doesn't like you very much.
- [48:46]
Unknown Speaker 6
With incredible guest players like Johnny Key.
- [48:50]
Unknown Speaker 1
You say there's sludge? Yeah. Sludge. Yeah. I'm the sludge boy.
- [48:53]
Unknown Speaker 8
F ing love.
- [48:53]
Unknown Speaker 1
Sludge boy. No, again, I'm not that sludge boy.
- [48:55]
Unknown Speaker 6
Grant Howitt.
- [48:56]
Unknown Speaker 1
Isaac Newton didn't study in F Putney, did he?
- [48:59]
Unknown Speaker 3
Whose eyes It.
- [49:00]
Unknown Speaker 1
Oh, my God.
- [49:01]
Unknown Speaker 6
And Sharmony Bundell.
- [49:03]
Unknown Speaker 1
There's a magic community.
- [49:04]
Unknown Speaker 6
There is.
- [49:05]
Unknown Speaker 1
Yay. I'm in a magic community.
- [49:08]
Unknown Speaker 6
Go to realmspod.com or search realms of Peril and Glory. Wherever you listen to podcast, find this mysteriously magical actual play series.
- [49:25]
Unknown Speaker 8
Contained herein are the heresies of Radulf Pantwine, erstwhile monk turned traveling medical investigator. Join me as I study the secrets of the divine plagues and uncover the blasphemous truth that ours is not a loving God and we are not its favored children. The heresies of Red Ulf Bandwein. Wherever podcasts are available.
- [49:52]
Unknown Speaker 7
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