A Sneak Preview of the new Abyss RPG from Global Games

As always in Limbo, the night sky was starless; the expanse of black unbroken by any feature save the distant light of Cahtariel hanging midway between Heaven and Cocytos. For the first time in a week, however, the sky was clear, the blizzard that had enveloped Toyuk Keep had been blown deeper into the Pit by stronger, colder winds from the Sea of Ice. With the clear skies had come a cold so deep that the garrison could hear distant thunder from the trees along the river, exploding as their sap turned to ice.

That is, the explosions could be heard when there was a lull in the cacophony raised by the monsters capering 'round the keep, just out of the range of the defender's weapons and spells. The fort, the only feature on the snowy plain for a hundred leagues, was a simple ring of granite around a central courtyard. All rooms and living quarters were hollowed out of the walls themselves, or dug deep into the ground. Potent spells tied into the fabric of the fortress prevented anyone from tunneling or teleporting into it. Or out.

The Hordes laying siege to Toyuk were, taken one by one, not particularly impressive. The majority of attackers were Imps, Goblins, a few Spriggans and other minor fiends; most of them barely on the level of a Sergeant's power. A few larger fiends were visible: Ettin, Frost Trolls, rogue Fallen and their Nephilim cousins. Only the single Wendigo could be considered a serious threat to an Archfiend, the rest were barely more than pests.

Except for their numbers.

"I told Lord Auberon we are too isolated out here on the steppe, that we were too important an outpost to be left without better support. I begged him to extend us a ley-line! Instead, he put the standing stones five hundred leagues further out, and sent us you! I mean, how is that going to do anybody any good?" The speaker, a tall Sidhe, suddenly remembered himself and looked over to the other figure standing atop the wall. I, of course, meant no insult, Lord, it was just that, well, I had hoped for a more, shall we say, powerful reminder to the steppe-fiends of Lord Auberon's authority."

With a quick leap his companion gained the top of a crenelation and turned, finally eye to eye with the garrison commander. "My dear Ogmol, your concern for our Lord(s hegemony does you credit, but I fear you worry too much. These walls are strong, your stores plentiful, and very few of the local fiends are subtle or powerful enough to gain entrance. So long as your sentries maintain their vigilance, you shant have to fear waking in a Wendigo's gullet."

Ogmol began to pace, his silver robes snapping in the rising wind. "The problem here, Lord, isn't them getting in. It's us getting out. The storm prevented us from mounting regular patrols to the mortal villages, and now the cold and those abominations are doing the same. M'lord, most of those fiends and Trolls out there are nothing but appetites wrapped in blood lust! They are too stupid to get in here, but are stupid enough to devour the souls under our protection. Most of the Archfiends and Fallen out here know better than to tempt the Host's wrath, but these idiots think of their guts first and the Will of the Divine last, if ever."

As Ogmol spoke of Heaven and its ruler, he looked upwards. In a fury born of frustration he snapped, "Damn it, the storm must be returning, Cahtariel is hidden again! This is just too much to deal with. My Lord, you must convince Auberon that we at Toyuk Keep must have some way of enforcing his will. Either a ley-line or more troops, but we need something!"

His companion lifted a sharp nose into the air and sniffed. "Youire right, and about more than the storm, friend Ogmol. Those gibbering fools out there are a threat to us, our charges and themselves. By the way, you donft need to call me lord, Puck will do nicely."

As he spoke, the Puck reached into his fur and pulled out a fantastically carved shard of ice. He continued, "Something will be done. Auberon sent me prepared for many eventualities, including this one." Auberon's emissary began to spin the ice carving rapidly between his palms. All at once, with a sound of a brief symphony, the ice sublimated away.

The courtyard behind Ogmol filled with a blue radiance; reflected in the Puckis eyes he could see a vast form, four-armed with its head floating neckless over its shoulders, looming over him. Even by Sidhe standards the voice he heard was impossibly beautiful and cruel.

"Who dares summon Cahtariel, the Cold Flame of Vengeance?"

"I summoned you, in the name of Auberon, Lord of the Sidhe and the First Circle, and in his name I ask a favour of you". Ogmol was amazed at the steadiness in the Puck's voice.

"Your petty wars and plots are of no concern to me. Know this: if this summons is over some point of honour between your ruler and one of those deeper in the Inferno, I will destroy this keep and all that it holds, and then I will decimate your race."

Ogmol closed his eyes, and managed to control his trembling long enough to whisper, "What have you done, Puck? She'll kill us all and then go after Auberon. Why didn't you just summon the Winter Queen and be done with it. At least that would have kept it in the family."

Whatever else he might have said was lost in the noise his shivering caused his armour to make.

The Puck straightened to his full height; behind him the besieging hordes went silent. "Noble Cahtariel, neither my master nor myself would ask your aid, save in the direst of need or for any but the most noble of purposes. But we find ourselves in such need now."

The fallen angel's eyes held something akin to curiosity, she folded her arms across her body while her hands, free of her wrists, wove a complicated dance about her form. "Continue."

"Our enemies menace the souls of the innocents and fate has rendered us incapable of protecting them unless we turn to you."

"This summoning is solely for the benefit of these mortal souls, with no thought of your own advancement? If I should discover that this is part of some elaborate scheme, trickster, I will give you to Calliptimus, and when it has taken its pleasure, I will use you as bait for Hekzael."

The diminutive Sidhe met her gaze squarely. "I swear our only motive is to ensure the survival of the mortal souls that are our responsibility, as per the Divine Edict." The audience on the steppe began to grasp the import of the tableau before them, and started to flee into the vast snowy wastes and the sheltering storm.

Cahtariel hung motionless, blue flames sliding over the nude perfection of her form. She nodded once, and vanished.

As Ogmol watched, the Puck suddenly slumped, swayed and would have fallen but for the taller Sidhe's steadying hand. Both of them were drenched in sweat, despite the infernal cold. The Seelie noble ventured, in a strained voice, "I'll not doubt Lord Auberon's planning again, but I think it would be for the best if I ensure that we never require that sort of aid again."

"That, friend Ogmol, would be the wisest course of action."

As the pair descended into the interior of the fortress, the sound of the blizzard could not drown out the screams as the slaughter began ...