{Game clock resumes, but is rolled back to 3:00pm 04/14/3200}
The
fighting at the entrance of the tomb of Arden Brightheart was intense; and was
concluded as quickly as it had started.
After the initial frenzy and turmoil of getting up the hill and dealing
with the orc patrol everything had been calm and peaceful for the couple of
hours that they’d been holed up in here.
They’d followed Sir Dwight’s orders to secure the entrance by unloading
all the equipment into the temple and pushing the button to make the kart fold
down into a manageable crate that they also carried into the temple, but the
regular wagons were too large to fit and still leave room for the troops to
fight. The wagons had been used to
create a barrier 10ft in front of the temple entrance to prevent anything from
charging up the road after them, but still left them enough room for the doors
to be shut… unfortunately they opened outwards.
The temple had never been meant as a stronghold, the huge brass and
wooden doors were decorative and meant to display the bas relief images of
Arden and his band of heroes engaged in their final battle with the Dread
Watcher: and these images weren’t doing anything to improve morale.
Everyone
with any skill at a bow or cross bow had been set to guard the entrance along
with Ethel one of the three clerics of Elyr that were part of the company and
one of the wizardly Daryl brothers.
There were also two steam knights who were nearest to the front, each
armed with a shoulder mounted, auto-loading pellet cannon. The wizard and Ethel were also near the
front, and that is what had caused their doom.
Wysera, one of the many refugees traveling from Silverton with Dwight
and company, had chosen to sign on with this unit rather than get schlepped off
to the front lines. With a personality
that could scare an ogre {personality score of 4} Wysera was at her customary
station at the back of the crowd tending to the mules when the trolls had
attacked. Several of the trolls pounced
upon the few warriors at the front as they dropped down from somewhere above
the entrance.
Wysera had
grabbed her bow and managed to avoid the stampeding mules; she even fired off
several arrows along with everyone else; but to little avail. The troll’s healed up nearly as fast as they
were damaged. Then there were fan-shaped jets of flame spraying from the hands of the wizard into the ranks of the
trolls. One troll caught fire and
panicked… charging past the steam knights into the ranks of the warriors and
flailing about in a blind frenzy of flames.
Ethel dashed forward to try and heal some of the horribly burned and
maimed warriors at the front.
Unfortunately she was as known to be extremely clumsy. {Agility of 5}
Ethel tripped and fell into the wizard as he was casting the flame spell again;
causing him to fall and twist such that his spell caught one of the steam
knights at close range.
The
problem with steam gear is that it is extremely fragile in the face of
magic. The water in the tanks on the
knight’s back flashed instantly into steam and over pressurized the
system. It detonated with sufficient
force to cause the other steam knight to explode as well. The combined energies of the blasts ripped
through the wizard, Ethel, and most of the warriors and collapsed the tunnel
under several tons of rock.
Wysera
stumbled backwards away from the rubble and dead bodies and notices that there
is dusty daylight shining through at the very top of the pile. At least they weren’t totally sealed in, she
ran back into the temple to look for her commander. Passing the entrance to the grotto full of
water she sees Bellina, her chicken which had become the company mascot, came
trotting out to greet her. Bellina had
recently had a bath and was looking every bit the blue ribbon pullet. Wysera; “At least you made it.”
She had
found the hen half-starved and wandering about the town of Silverton when the
refugees had been out scavenging for any remaining food. Wysera had been a farmer for most of her
life, and she knew prize winning poultry when she saw it, half-starved or
not. She’d managed to capture it and add
it to the general stocks that they all had gathered for their trek eastward to
Vaqueria. Fortunately for Bellina, the
Gods had been in a charitable mood, and their clerics had managed to supply
enough food to the travelers with their magic bento box; so that it hadn’t been
necessary to eat the hen. Hearn even
healed it in the hopes that she would supply the troop with eggs, but it hadn’t
worked and when the magic box turned to ash half way to the city, Wysera had
even considered serving Bellina to the party… after all, she’d grown to the
size of a good sized turkey by then.
Fortunately
the foragers and hunters had brought enough food to sustain them and the Gods
began to answer the prayers of the clerics.
The food had been lack-luster but nutritious all the way to the army
camp and both of them, beyond all odds, had ended up here. Wysera had gone from farmer to fighter saving
the world in three exceptionally terrifying months; a large portion of which
had been spent in the form of a rat wandering a deserted city. She followed the largest hallway as she
scuttled along following the signs of the mule stampede and doing her best to avoid
mule clods; there was light up ahead.
She rounded the corner to see a huge set of double doors that had been
bashed open to reveal the grand mausoleum beyond the threshold. Four of the mules had died as they’d crashed
blindly into the door in the darkness and then been trampled by the rest of the
herd. Several of the survivors could be
heard braying, their calls echoing though the gargantuan stone room, lending a
surreal quality to the scene before her.
Her
commander was now an alabaster statue locked in eternal victory over the Dread
Watcher, the cleric of Ormazd that was her second in command was staggering and
swaying with his face scrunched up in pain.
Hearn was taking a couple of steps towards the statues yelling to
Thingerlun; “Is he dead?!” And then Hearne stumbles and falls into a coma; as
does Nanda the junior cleric of Elyr the Healer. Thingerlun hadn’t seen or heard any of this:
he’d gone to the remains of the fallen ogre magi and then inexplicably turned
into a knuckle dragging heavy browed Neanderthal, grunting and pounding upon
his breast.
Bob; “Oh great!
He’s gone and cast Cantrip
again!”
Less than a minute later, Thingerlun reverts to his
normal creepy self and tucks something into his backpack. He continues on as if nothing had ever
happened; “Well, if he’s alive then there is an easy way to find out. He wanders over to the statue upon the dais
and casts his ESP spell, closes his
eyes and puts his hand upon the alabaster statue of Dwight. Lex and Bob stare at the woman in bull hide
armor dwarfed by the size of the door and half-panicked as she stood there with
the Company’s chicken clucking and scratching near the remains of the
mules. The moment drags out for a few
dozen heart beats and the newcomer, whom they vaguely recognized as one of the
refugees from Silverton, says in a shrill voice that could cut glass; “We’re
sealed in! Mostly, anyway, and I thought
you should know that everyone else is dead.”
More stunned silence and then she follows up with; “There were
trolls. When the wizard tried to burn’em
he accidentally set of a huge explosion.”
Bob “WHAT!?”
Lex at the same time; “Start from the
beginning.” And after a few minutes of
questioning her on the details they get a fairly accurate report of what had
happened as they are trying to tend to Milo, Hearn, and Nanda. Wysera concludes in an annoyed voice; “And
will you look at what all of this has done to my boots!” The gnome is making a valiant effort to
gather up the mules, but they are nearly 20 times his size and this is
rendering his efforts into a comedic performance of choreographed
futility. Bob helps with that while Lex
pours some healing potion into Hearn’s mouth, but it has no effect.
Wysera; “Are there any other ways out of this
place?”
Lex; “Don’t know, check the map… it’s around here
somewhere.”
Wysera wanders around and alternately helps Bob, and
searches until she spots it on the floor by the entrance to the Tomb of the
Faithful. It’s a bit charred on the
edges and stained in places with substances best left to mystery. “Got it.”
She calls out to no one in particular as she wanders back to the group
examining the map. “It doesn’t look like
it… Damn we’re going to have to dig our way out.”
Lex; “Not necessarily, we found a secret passage
that isn’t on the map. There may be
others.”
Wysera, cheering up a bit; “That sounds
promising. Maybe we should look around
some more?”
Lex turns to Bob; “Can you keep an eye on things
here while she and I go scout the rest of the tomb?”
Bob nods his head in the affirmative; and Wysera and
Lex Anne set off through the Tomb of the Faithful and the secret tunnel back to
the store room, giving each a thorough search along the way but finding nothing
of interest. They head back through the
grotto and into the tomb of the cowardly cleric and give it a good search, there
are still several volumes on the shelves that they haven’t looked through, but
a brief review shows that they are mostly daily ledgers concerning the state of
the temple’s finances and grain stores.
There are no secret doors in here either. They leave and wander back to the entrance
and Lex can see that there is indeed a small gap at the top of the rubble, but
she refuses to get very close. It is
obvious that there will need to be some heavy labor to open up a passage wide
enough even for people, let alone a bunch of terrified mules.
This was a bad situation indeed, but after they
searched through the sacred shrine with the faux Dread Watcher again even Lex
was starting to panic. Other than
Brightheart’s Tomb there was only one other room left to search, and if they
found no secret doors there, then they would likely be here for a month or more
excavating the main entrance. The door
for this last room was locked, but yielded to Lex Anne’s expert touch. Opening the door revealed several things all at
once: as the map had indicated, this was the chapel set aside for the common
folk so that the rich and well to do wouldn’t have to suffer the stink of
poverty. It was a crudely cut chamber
about 40ft across and a little wider that had 3 rows of uncomfortable looking
wooden pews set up with a central aisle bisecting them and leading from the
door to the sepulcher raised up upon a dais at the front of the room. The room was lit in the same manner as the
rest of the tomb, and had magical crystal sconces at intervals, but the light
in this new chapel was muted and left Lex and Wysera feeling chilled. That is when they saw a jet black shadow with
glowing red eyes raising out of the coffin and flying towards them. Lex slammed the door and they ran for it back
to the Grand Hall to find that everyone except Hearn and Nanda had recovered.
{I had
sent out emails to Thingerlun’s and Milo’s players with the following text for
them to read so that I’d have some extra time to work with our new player and
help her get up to speed on everything that was happening around her while they
were reading them and deciding how their characters were going to respond.}
What
Thingerlun actually tells everyone is; “Yah. He’s alive… after a fashion. He’s on guard duty for the next 1000 years or
so.”
{Milo’s
Player finishes reading the email; “Did I kill my God?”
Storyteller;
“No… just a flesh wound with consequences; Elyr is actively working to save his
life.”
Player;
“Glad I asked permission first…”
Storyteller;
“He knew it was coming, he was the God of Prophesies and Scrying.”
Player;
“Who am I supposed to save?”
Storyteller;
“Shul is the Moon Goddess. You also lose
Milo’s aura of light, and the spell Second
Sight no longer exists; neither do any other such spells or devices. The Lord of Prophesy has lost his Sight.”}
Milo tells
everyone; “Ormazd is gravely wounded and the Gods have rallied to his aid. I think that’s why Hearn and Nanda are
unconscious. Elyr has drawn in all of
her power to heal my Lord Ormazd.” This
is when everyone else notices that Milo’s aura of light is gone.
Bob has
only been half listening to all of this and is lamenting the fact that there
was little if any treasure to be had in this austere tomb when he notices
something shiny. He immediately slinks over
to the sight where the ogre magi had been slain and sees that all that is left
are the few tatters of robes that Tarkan had worn. Mixed in with this are some magenta crystals
that are visibly getting larger, as well as a scattering of maroon dust. “Hey Lex!
You might want to see this.”
She
wanders over and takes a good look, as does Thingerlun. Between the knowledge she had gathered about
her target, and Thingerlun’s arcane knowledge they determine that Tarkan Khurzog
had called Krelvax the Weaver as his Patron.
Very little is known about this powerful demon banished into the
fractured realms of the outer darkness; beyond even the lowest levels of the
demonic realms of the Great Abyss. It is
theorized that when its disciples are defeated in battle they take on a new
forms that can continue to serve the demon’s will. Without thinking, planning, or permission
Milo goes over to Hearn and rummages in her backpack. Pulling out the wand she’d mentioned to him
he determines that it will cast the Sanctify
spell. The spell is beyond his power,
but he uses it anyway… targeting the growing crystals. The room is filled with the crackle of barely
controlled divine energy washing over them like storm driven ocean serf and
they find themselves falling through the great purple void. They realize it’s the space between spaces
just as they slam roughly back into the real world. They know that somehow they’ve been
teleported again, but this time they hadn’t much say in the destination.
***
There is
an odd odor in the air that no one but Lex Anne recognizes. It was made up of rank mud, dry sand, and a
metallic salty flair that invaded the nostrils like a barbarian horde. The smell grabbed hold of their attention and
dragged it kicking and screaming in a vaguely eastward direction.
Bob;
“Ugh!! What is that stench?!”
Lex; “The
Lirean Sea! Welcome to the beach my
friends.”
Wysera; “I
don’t see any water…”
Thingerlun;
“That’s because it is, was April and the tide is still on its way out. Leaves behind a lot of mud and stagnant brine
pools; but I’ve never been this close.”
Lex; “Yah,
it’s the ocean alright, but the sun is nearly directly overhead and it’s a lot
hotter. I think we might be in the
southern hemisphere…” which is followed by a chorus of groans from everyone
else. Lex keeps searching the grassy
savannah around them in all the other directions. There were no mountains on the horizons, but
they might get lost in the heat haze.
Nothing but green grass and the occasional Acacia tree or stand of oaks
as far as the eye could see to the north, west, and south. Completely frustrated by the lack of
landmarks she says to everyone; “You all go find us a place to camp, I’m going
to scout around a bit and see if I can find out where we are. I’ll catch up with you in a little while.”
Wysera is
surprised to see Lex wink out of sight; “Where’d she go?!”
Bob; “Oh
she does that now and then, but she’ll be back.” And they all set out for the nearest copse
of
oaks because there was no point in searching for water at this time of the year
most of the smaller rivers and streams had dried up or were naught but a muddy
rill of filthy muck. At this point one
set of trees was as good as any of the others as long as it was large enough
for everyone. Bob continues with; “Hey Milo, what day is it? I’d have thought it was a bit closer to
evening when we… traveled?”
Milo
starts to say, but pauses and has to think really hard about this. In the end he admits defeat, and the fact
that he doesn’t know seems to unsettle everyone deeply; especially Milo. Hearn is groggy but awake; “Where are we
now?” Everyone turns to her and helps
her get to her feet; that’s when they notice that Nanda, the gnome, nor any of
the mules had made the trip with them.
They were stuck with only what they have in their backpacks. Wysera looks around and is reassured to see
Bellina scratching happily and eating bugs and such. Sythrixis turns invisible
and they hear and feel him take off, presumably to do the same thing as
Lex. Wysera looks up to the sky and sees
that the Ring of Valdreth has grown only slightly, but she is fairly certain
that at least a couple of days have passed.
She shivers because she knows that it was getting near to sunset when
the trolls attacked and now it was high noon.
It was
cool and the air was crisp at 2000ft, there were no clouds in the sky and Lex
could see for miles in any direction.
There was nothing but the rustle of wind as it whipped at her veil and
hat on its way passed. She could clearly
make out the Lirean Sea to the south east and heavy on the horizon to the north
were the heavy black roils of smoke from several massive forest fires. She vaguely recalled one of the officers
lamenting into his ale about how the Farahn Forest had been set ablaze by the
Scourge. Lex still wasn’t so sure about
where they are, but she was coming to realize that they might not be as far
from the temple as she’d originally thought.
She spends some time reveling in the freedom to zoom about without all
that oppressive rock and earth trapping her anymore and then dives back to the
strand of oaks that everyone was heading towards.
Lex landed
a few minutes before Sythrixis lands with a large snake that he has killed for
his lunch. Hearn casts Holy Sanctuary
upon the clearing at the center of the trees and they all rest for the first
time in what seems like days. Lex
borrows some parchment from Thingerlun and makes a cone out of it, then fills
it with some of their precious water and watches as she lets it trickle out the
bottom of the funnel. The water starts
to swirl and she declares; “OK! I was
wrong, we are still in the northern hemisphere and I suspect we are about 500
miles southeast of the Tomb of Arden Brightheart.”
Little did
they realize that they were being watched…
***
The sun
was setting on these wayward travelers and they were beginning to settle in for
the night, Thingerlun had barely spoken to anyone, and had eaten his rations as
fast as possible so that he could get back to studying the new spell book he’d
acquired with such great care. He’d
managed to notice the fact that the spell book of Tarkan Khurzog was soaking
wet, and most importantly that both the water-barer goblin and its master had
died of poisoning in a puddle of foul smelling water. These observations had saved his life… his
only recourse had been to use his hated Cantrip
spell to dry off the tome and lift it to the safety of his backpack. It was fascinating reading and most
informative upon a great many forbidden subjects. While some of its spells had been lost to
water damage, several powerful spells had survived and one of them is the Plane Walk spell. Thingerlun devotes the next three days to
trying to learn this spell.
The ogres
that had been slowly creeping on their bellies through the tall grass finally
got close enough to use their limited teleportation ability to surprise the
party of strangers who had conveniently settled in the ogre’s territory. The ogres had managed to coordinate their
appearance so that the four of them were attacking from all sides of the
campfire; unfortunately the ogres failed to realize that these were such
powerful travelers. The ogre’s clubs
fail to even come close to their targets.
Sythrixis moves the 10ft necessary to line up his shot with a casual
listlessness and then belches out a clotted spray of acid that instantly
dissolves two of the ogres. Wysera had
her bow in hand because she’d drawn the first watch and fired off an arrow at
another ogre. The damage was
insignificant and mostly just annoyed the ogre.
Lex
disappears as she launches into the air to get above the last ogre and
announces her presence with an arrow; catching the ogre completely
unaware. {As a thief and assassin she
knows how to maximize her damage by striking something critical. Her racial heritage gives her access to
‘critical table F’ from Critters, Creatures, and Denizens… The fey magic inherent in Lex Anne can be
channeled through any weapon she wields.}
Her arrow strikes the target and the ogre is instantly teleported 100ft
into the air and 30ft away from the place where it had been standing. The fall is loud and messy because the ogre
is too dumb and surprised to use his own ability to save him. Hearn readies her healing kit and prepares to
dive into action if she’s needed while Milo has to circumnavigate the campfire
to get to the remaining ogre. Bob throws
his magic dagger but misses his target.
Sythrixis
wanders over to the puddles of ogre and thinks to Thingerlun’s mind; Ah! A soup course! How thoughtful! And he starts eating
noisily. The last ogre dies by Wysera’s
mighty deed; for contrary to popular belief, an ogre is just as susceptible to
death as any other living creature that has had a cloth yard arrow staple its
ears together via its brain. {MDoA= “put an arrow in one ear and out the other”
and rolled a 6 on her deed die} Sythrixis and the others drag the bodies off as
far as they can and then clean up the camp ground. As luck would have it, the rest of their time
passes un-eventfully, and they take the time to heal and strategize. At one point on day 2 Thingerlun says loudly
and in an irritated voice; “What a BITCH!” but fails to answer anyone’s
questions.
At noon on
the third day, Thingerlun draws a 40ft circle and set out all of the proper
runes and sigils in their places and then turns to everyone; “This may not
work.” To the stunned looks and puzzles faces he continues; “I don’t know if I
can summon the power to send all of us to our destination at the same
time. It is theoretically possible, but
very difficult for one wizard to transport this many living creatures. The real question is where to go, I was
thinking about things: and I’m wondering if we shouldn’t head back to the
Temple of Thormyr and do our best to secure the sight so no one can gain access
to the Sword of Conviction or free the Dread Watcher and start this all over
again.”
Hearn;
“That sounds like a good idea…” She
seems quite keen on getting back to the temple.
Lex;
“Maybe, but wouldn’t it be better to head back to the main army camp where we
started and get help?”
Everyone
looks at her and Thingerlun says; “Of course!
What was I thinking… you’re right we should report back and get help at
once!” Thingerlun calls upon the power
of his Patron Aristemis, not asking for anything in particular, but simply because
the side effect of casting that spell allows Thingerlun a peculiar clarity of
thought that boosts his casting ability significantly. {He managed a 27} The spell is sufficient to
take them where they want to go, but Thingerlun fails to remember that the army
camp is warded and protected against such intrusions and he said he said ‘in
the camp’ when naming the targeting coordinates for the spell. Their rapid and rough trip through the purple
space between spaces leaves them all feeling dizzy for a while.
They
slowly notice that they are not where they were supposed to be, but they
weren’t where they started either. They
were nestled in a small rocky valley formed by tumbled rocks, dirt and stunted
bushes. There was an intricate doorway
of massive proportions set into the southern wall of the little vale off to
their right. Lex Anne goes airborne
again to try and figure out where they’ve gone off to this time. Bob wanders over to the door while everyone
else starts to pester Thingerlun about what went wrong. Upon inspecting the doors he notes that they
are about 10ft square, but the craftsman that made these doors hadn’t been
content with bisecting the doors once from top to bottom at the midpoint, no. The designer of this massive iron and steel portal
had cut the doors on both diagonals to create four triangular doors. This mad craftsman hadn’t even been content
with strait cuts, no, this person had cut the doors to create interlocking
‘teeth-like’ edges to the doors that meshed up all snug and flush when it was
closed up.
There were
four door knobs, one for each door panel positioned at the point farthest from
the hinges on each side of the door.
They were clustered in a loose diamond pattern at the center of the
door. They weren’t particularly
difficult to reach, but they would be difficult to manipulate all at once. “And that’s when something awful usually
happens.” Bob thinks about it for a
moment, but then turns to walk away muttering something to himself about
‘strange’ doors lying around in foreboding and forgotten ditches… It was years
of ditch digging instinct that saved him.
When your life is spent digging ditches there is a primal part of the
brain that is always wary of a cave in… and Bob ad developed this paranoia into
an art form by now.
As Bob
shifted his weight to walk away, the door did something quite uncharacteristic
for a door. It attacked him. Specifically, the triangular, toothy doors of
steel and iron opened of their own accord and tried to bite him: the mass of
the doors creating a resounding and hollow cascade of sound as they closed upon
nothing but air. It was like the
striking of a temple’s gong. Bob
instinctively dove for cover as far from the doors as possible and rolled to
safety; landing near the party.
Hearn
(exasperated); “Bob… Must we go through this?”
Bob; “But
there is a huge treasure in there, I saw it while the doors were snarling at
me!” Wysera and
Milo grab him by the arms as he starts to walk back to the door
digging for his tools.
Bob;
“Hey! B-but… TREASURE!!!” And he has to be dragged off by the others as
they climb out of the tiny valley at its shallower northern edge. Lex is waiting for them and says; “I’m still
not sure where we are, but that forest fire is further away and more to the
west of where we were before Thingerlun bounced us here. That hurt by the way… do we know how to
correct for it the next time?”
Thingerlun
shuffles his feet a bit and has the decency to blush; “Um… yah. Sorry about that. Won’t happen again… at least I think it
won’t. Next time I’ll set the target
location for somewhere just outside the camp.
That should solve the problem.”
Milo to
Thingerlun; “Do you need to rest before trying that again? Should we find some place to camp?”
Bob
(excitedly); “Yes. We should camp
here. Definitely.”
Everyone
looks to Thingerlun for his thoughts and he says; “No problem, we just need to
find a flat space large enough to trace out the 40ft circle. They drag Bob away from the mysterious valley
under his strenuous protestations; “But I saw treasure in there!” His complaints fell on deaf ears, because as
scary as those doors are… no one is keen on meeting whoever… or whatever made
them. This time when Thingerlun
announces that he is ready to cast; Milo and Hearn cast a blessing upon him in
hopes that the Gods would deliver everyone safely to their destination.
Thingerlun;
“All set? Everyone keep your arms, legs, and other appendages inside the circle
at all times during transit… next stop 100 yards outside of the military camp,
on the western side.” He cast the spell {28} and they arrive exactly where he
had envisioned. He turns to everyone
else as he is pulling a roll of parchment out of his pocket; “I found this
tucked away at the back of the ogre magi’s spell book. It’s important that once we get in there we
all stay together. As best we can
anyway.” He hands the letter to Bob who scans the broken seal and the contents
and hands it off to Milo. Everyone else
sort of crowds around him and reads along over his shoulder. A few moments later everyone is cursing and
swearing in various colorful ways.
Thingerlun continues; “That’s what I thought when I read it… that there
is proof that Lady Moritannia, the Imperial Regent, is supplying information on
troop movements and strengths to the enemy!”
Lex;
“Wonderful. Who are we going to
tell? No one is going to take our word
for it!”
Milo; “We
go find a cleric of Justica and confess everything to her. The Aura of Truth will prove our claim.” Everyone agrees this is their best option and
that sticking together is in fact a good idea.
Together they wander off towards the perimeter of the camp, knowing that
they will be intercepted by the camp guards.
They are on the side of the camp where the road from Silverton enters
the camp and have a good view of the train leaving for the front lines. It has 7 crew cars full of troops and their
equipment and it takes two engines pulling at the front to get it rolling. As the party is being stopped by the guards,
they hear the massive motors of the engines throttle up under the strain of
trying to get the train moving, even with the assistance of the road itself it
took the train several agonizing moments to creep forward a few feet.
Guard;
“HALT AND BE RECOGNISED!”
Thingerlun
and the rest step forward with their hands out palms up showing they have no
weapons… and then Sythrixis lands next to Thingerlun and becomes visible
again. Thingerlun says; “We’re back and
we need to deliver our reports.”
Guard,
recognizing the dragon and who these folk must be says; “Oh. It’s you guys… we figured you were dead. So, yah… I ‘spect someone’ll want to be
talking to you about what went wrong.”
Everyone
seems concerned; that’s when they take another look around and realize that the
camp is a scene of dreary and desperate people fighting off hopelessness. Everywhere can be heard the screams of the
dying and those who wished that they hadn’t survived. Everywhere warriors huddled close about their
fires and passed bottles around, but nowhere do the fires burn brightest than
at the crematoria at the Temple of Soleth.
This is when Bob notices that the lead engine of the train is familiar;
“Hey, that’s Archie! We need to stop
that train!” And he starts to run after
it, completely ignoring the guard; who starts yelling and running after Bob.
Thingerlun
nods his head to Sythrixis, who turns invisible and can be heard to fly
off. A few moments later Bob disappears
and the guard (and everyone else in the party) looks puzzled. Thingerlun then whispers; “I asked the dragon
to fly Bob over to the train.”
Wysera;
“But why stop the train?”
Hearn,
working things out; “That makes sense!
If the enemy already knows the schedule of the troop movements, then
that train and any others will be rolling into ambushes.”
Thingerlun;
“Yah, that’s kinda what I figured that’s why I send Syth over to help. Bob’ll never run down that train on his own
before someone catches him.”
***
Bob is
momentarily panicked by the sensation of being lifted in to the air. He looks up and can see Thingerlun’s purple
pet, wings spread and flapping hard; this doesn’t reassure him as much as he
thought it might. Before Bob can reflect
much upon any of this, he must tuck and roll through his landing as the dragon
releases him just above the engineering deck of Archie’s engine. This causes Bob to just suddenly appear
standing up right next to Archie, who has all of his concentration devoted to
watching pressure gauges, throwing levers, and spinning the dials on the panels
in front of him.
Bob, with
a big smile and having to yell to overcome the noise; “HEY Archie! You need to stop the train!”
Archie
panics and in his fright throws several levers at once and the train starts to
veer wildly to their left.
Everyone
in the party and the camp in general are surprised as the lead engine veers
wildly to one side causing the next engine to dive in the opposite direction…
the resulting collision totaled the second engine as the passenger cars
collided with the now stationary locomotives; and then into each other. It was like watching an accordion in slow
motion as the animating magic from the roads continued to force the passenger
cars together. There are screams of pain
and panic coming from within the wreckage as several gnomes rush forward and
shatter the wheels of any carts that are still mobile to stop them from further
crushing the passengers.
Archie;
“WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE THIRTEEN HELLS ARE YOU DOING!!!
Bob,
sheepishly; “Trying to stop you from going to the front…”
Archie;
“By destroying the train and killing who knows how many people in the
process?!”
Bob;
“Well, no, not like that, but…”
A Cleric
of Thormyr had been first on the scene as had several guardsmen, and the cleric
had climbed quickly to the engineer’s deck to find out what had happened.
Archie,
panicking; “It was HIM!” Pointing at Bob, “He’s the one that just popped up
there and startled me! How would you
react if someone you thought was dead just sprang out of thin air?!”
But Bob had pulled a vanishing trick {Natural
20 plus thief bonuses…} and disappeared behind an open door panel to the
interior of the engine.
The Cleric
of Thormyr looks, sees, nothing and starts in on Archie again, threatening him
with all manner of things as he is binding Archie’s hands to take him into
custody. Archie is pleading with the
Cleric that it wasn’t his fault when Bob finally gives in to his conscience and
re appears from hiding; “Let him go, he’s telling the truth. It wasn’t his fault. I’m the one that startled him and caused the
accident.”
The cleric
is surprised, but recovers quickly; “JUST WHO ARE YOU & WHERE DID YOU COME
FROM! You’ll be coming with me to answer
a few questions!”
Bob whips
around and stands on his tiptoes so that he is level with the clerics chin…
“NO! YOU’LL BE COMEING WITH ME SO THAT I
CAN TELL YOU WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW!” and proceeded to stare down the cleric;
who eventually blinked first. {5th
level Thief intimidating a 4th level NPC cleric… priceless…}
Cleric;
“Fine. After you.”
Bob; “No,
after you. You need to run and fetch us
some clerics of Justica and Gorhan and meet us back here as fast as you
can. Off with you!”
The cleric
climbed back down and shouted at the guards and sent them scurrying of on the
necessary errands, but stayed close to watch as the rest of the party move to
the train. The clerics of several orders
assisted servants and soldiers as they worked to extricate the trapped and the
wounded. Several gnomes run up to Archie
and Bob screaming angrily; “What is the meaning of this, this is
intolerable! There are at least 27
seriously injured, and 9 confirmed dead Archibald Springbolt! There will be a
tribunal and you’ll be demoted to Shepard for this debacle!”
These
gnomes, who are dressed in gold trimmed robes and seem to be important, turn to
Bob; “AND WHO ARE YOU! You think you can
just pop around where ever you like! You’ll do time for this, 9 dead so far and
we can’t even find out the damages to valuable Guild property!”
Bob; “The
9 dead are regrettable, but everyone else should be thankful. I’ve just saved their lives and saved all of
this valuable Guild property from behind lost behind enemy lines!” He then fishes around in the pouch at his
belt and tosses out a couple of walnut sized diamonds, “You can bill me for the
rest; now shove off!” Makes sweeping
gestures with his hands, “Go on!” And
then he turns to start talking to a very bewildered Archie, filling him in on
what was really going on. The
expressions on the gnomes faces are caught in conflicting bouts of rage as they
can’t figure out which is more insulting, being treated as common servants to
be bought off or being dismissed like beggars in the street. They take the money and go, but they glare
balefully at Bob as they go back to overseeing the rescue and recovery.
Within
about 15 minutes the party was back together again and there were two clerics
of Justica along with their husbands, which are clerics of Gorhan attending to
the reports of the returning heroes. The
cleric of Thormyr that Bob had bullied was also in attendance hoping to be
given word that these newcomers were to be incarcerated. It was obvious from the looks he was giving
them that he was also hoping the ‘heroes’ would resist being arrested. Before Thingerlun or anyone could get
started, the senior cleric of Justica, a woman with long grey hair and several
frills and ruffles to her robes denoting some significant rank tells them the
following as she sweeps her blind eyes across all of them:
“We know
who you are and the mission upon which you embarked. You should know that the mobile fortresses Gorhan’s Fury and The Sable Tower have both been lost to the enemy. Both lost 3 days ago when their holy
enchantments were interrupted and they were last reported to have crash
landed. The last reliable report from
Arval city says that the orc horde has overrun the survivors of the demise of Gorhan’s Fury. Less is known of the fate of The Sable
Tower. It went down somewhere east of
Longdale and was last reported to be under heavy siege. Both fronts are reporting heavy losses and
the orcs seem to know our every move. We
had hoped that you’d simply failed and that the Dread Watcher was in the hands
of our enemy; but your return forces us to ask the question: Have any of you
betrayed the Empire to the enemy?!
Answer now only the truth and be saved.”
She then points to everyone in turn and the cleric seems both relieved
and puzzled when everyone answers truthfully that they hadn’t been treacherous.
The junior
cleric of Gorhan speaks into the growing silence; “Then you must have failed to
destroy the Dread Watcher?”
Milo;
“No! We succeeded! The Dread Watcher has been imprisoned once
again.”
Thingerlun
then proceeds to tell them everything.
{Storyteller;
“Everything…”
Player;
“Yes, the prophesies, the visions: all of it, but the abbreviated versions
trying to keep things quick before any of the Lords or Nobility shows up.”}
Then
Thingerlun hands over the letter; “It’s signed by her! The seal was already broken when I found it.”
Lex had
been taking advantage of everyone’s distraction to send out some ‘Thief’s Kant’
signals into the crowd. She succeeds at
setting up a meeting for later at the Bent Wand over in the wizard’s section of
the camp. While she is doing this she
notices the entourage of lords heading towards them and Fades away into the
shadows and turns invisible. Lex gives
Milo warning of this by whispering in his ear; “Times up, nobles
approaching.” She then drifts out and
hovers over the crowd searching for anyone who might be spying on them.
The lead
cleric of Justica says loudly; “Go and make yourselves presentable you will
likely be questioned later.” Then more quietly, “You must leave this document
with us… it would not be safe for any of you to be found with it.”
Thingerlun;
“Can we trust that you aren’t mixed up in any of these plots?”
The
clerics of Gorhan both bristle at this; they’d been looking like they were on
the verge of going berserk ever since they read the letter to their
ecclesiastic counterparts. The elder
cleric of Justica lifts her hand ever so slightly and the angry clerics
immediately calm down. She says quickly
and quietly; “Be calmed Bertram, they have a right to ask and are wise to do so
in the presence of Divine Truth. Yes, we
may all be trusted and none of us have plans to betray you: but one document,
no matter how damning will not make this case.
You are dismissed for now, but must remain within the camp. There will be further questions.”
They are
walking away as the clerics of Justica, Gorhan, and Thormyr are turning to
occupy the attention of the procession of lords. Lex’s voice issues from above them somewhere;
“We should head to the Bent Wand, I’m fairly certain that we won’t be bothered
there… but we will have to drink with Wizards.”
And Grins as Thingerlun squawks with indignation until he figures out
that she’s joking. As they head out, Lex
and Bob both take care to check and see if anyone is following them. Lex spots a middle aged nobleman wandering
through the crowds trying to follow them unobtrusively; it is obvious that even
though he is skilled, the gentleman still isn’t very good at this. She reaches into a pouch at her belt and
retrieves her ‘special’ lip gloss and drifts down and kisses the nobleman ever
so gently upon his lips.
Bob isn’t
having any luck with his surveillance, but he does spot the nobleman who
suddenly collapses into the suddenly visible and waiting arms of Lex Anne. Who is saying in a loud and jovial voice;
“What ho My Lord? I thought you could
handle your ale better than this goods Sir.” And she half carries, half drags
the poor fellow along behind the rest of the adventurers as they make their way
through the camp to the tent- tavern known as the Bent Wand. 15minutes later they are commandeering a
table for all of them as Lex wanders over to a nondescript fellow sitting at
the bar.
The Bent
Wand was a brilliant idea put into practice by a wizardly couple known only as
Theoffrey & Ceychelle. It was a
simple affair of 10ft poles holding aloft an intricately wrote tarpaulin made
several bound layers of heavy ivory satin and muslin underneath a heavy
patchwork leather ‘roof’ that covered a 50ft by 60ft area centered on a bar and
grill of gnomish construction.
Furthermore someone had decided to embroider the satin with vibrant
needlepoint that depicted young men and women engaged in various levels of
debauchery. The stroke of brilliance had
been in the fact that the wizardly couple had realized that even wizards need a
place where they can kick back and quaff a few ales in peace; so they had
placed a powerful enchantment that nullified all magic within 10ft of the
tavern upon the quilted tent cover.
Bereft of
the ability to warp reality around their index fingers, most wizards are
revealed to be the 90 pound asthmatics and book worms that they truly are under
all those robes and cloaks. As a result,
there’d never been anything more than a blistering verbal jibe sizzling through
the air of the tent. As it turned out,
all of this made it an exceptionally good place for others to do business with
wizards and others who didn’t want to be noticed. It helped that the food and ale were
superb. Lex flagged the barman for a
pint of house ale as she sat at the bar next to someone dressed as a pig
herder; she casually tosses down a ruby laden medallion on a long, heavy gold
chain in front of him saying; “I claim the bounty on Tarkan Khurzog.”
The
faintly odiferous fellow took a sip from his mug and tried to mater his
irritation; “That isn’t all you proof is it?
If so; you’re wasting my time.”
Lex; “You
were one of the few people close enough to hear the report we gave to the
clerics, so you know the truth of it… and then there is this.” She briefly
flashes the vial full of the crystalline remains of the ogre mage so that the
pig herder can see it. Lex puts her
Imperial ID on the counter and slides it over to him; “You can put it on this
account.”
He takes
another sip of his drink and is trying very hard not to gnash his teeth; “Very
well.” The man then pulls out his own ID
and briefly touches it to hers and then he grabs the medallion and starts to
put it and his ID away in one casual movement.
Bob shouts
from the other side of two muscle bound farm hands who’ve stood up to block his
path towards Lex and her business associate; “Lex Anne… Can I see that medallion
for a second? I’ve got an idea.”
The man
looks at Lex, who nods affirmative. The
two towering piles of muscle step back reluctantly and allow Bob to approach;
“Barkeep! Bring me a kettle of hot water
a pound of bee’s wax, a dry towel and a couple of bowls you’ve no further use
for.” And he tosses a small diamond onto
the counter.
No one
says anything while they wait; the two large hooligans loom in the background
flex their muscles and crack their knuckles loudly. A grin spreads over Lex Anne’s face as she
realizes what Bob is about to do. The
pig farmer orders another pint of ale.
The barmaid brings the equipment and in short order Bob has a rather
well made wax mold of the medallion; not once does he try to hide what he is
doing. Bob finishes his ale while the
wax cools. Lex sips her own brew and
says; “So. What’s the plan?”
Bob grins;
“I’m going to find some way to make a new one of these so that we can send
someone in to impersonate Tarkan Khurzog and take over his army.”
The pig
farmer splutters and sprays his mouthful of ale across the bar… there was even
foam shooting out of his nose.
Lex
casually sips her brew; “To what end?”
Bob;
“Disperse his troops, muck up supply lines… get rich…” quaffs the rest of his
ale and extricates the medallion from the mold and gives it back to the pig
farmer. The molds are then carefully
wrapped in the towel and placed in his bag; “Barkeep! A round of ale and dinner for me and my
friends over at that table.” And he
wanders off to join the others. {He got
a total of 29 on his forgery roll} Lex
turns to the Barkeep has he is heading off; “I’m with them.” Finishing off her
ale she follows Bob. Over her shoulder
she says to the pig farmer as she is walking away; “Pleasure doing business
with you.” {Lex won her bargaining roll;
a Contested personality check, by rolling a 22 vs. NPC 17}
At the
table, the party is sitting down to the first non-magical meal they’ve had in a
long time. Thingerlun is taking the
opportunity to tell everyone about his conversation with Thormyr during his
mind meld with Dwight’s statue. Milo
does the same with his visions; all of the original adventurers from Grenvec
take the time to answer Lex’s and Wysera’s questions. Gradually informing them of the full
magnitude of the quest in which they’d become tangled.
***the
following is re-printed from session #3 for the benefit of new players and
readers and to refresh player memories.
It is part of the main archive over at Goodman Games where you can find
the first 16 sessions of this story***
After a good meal and several pints Thingerlun delivers a fairly good
rendition of the very first vision they received:}
“As the last of the ringing tones and the flash of light
from the emerald throne fade, we open our eyes to see that we were floating
higher than an Eagle can fly… and that we no longer seemed to possess a
physical form. Our awareness turns towards the lands below and the
turquoise waters of the Lirean Sea sparkle & glint in the light of
Ormazd. The hills and valleys of the island below are thickly blanketed
with trees, stretching everywhere save for the tallest peaks of mighty
mountains and a small plain at the heart of the isle. A vision of a
peaceful, beautiful place; save for the fires & smoke slowly consuming the
towering trees of the birthplace of the Elves…
Then we see the clashing forces of Elves & Dwarves
defending the Isle from a massive horde of Giants. Even as we watched,
another horde of Giants arrived upon a strange conveyance that appears to be
made entirely of storm clouds. Lightning bolts from the “solid” storm
cloud clearing a swath of defenders; allowing the Giants to disembark upon the
northern shores of the isle. All of this is seen in the passing of an
eye-blink; for it seems to be that we were unseated in time as well as in body
and the passing of several years are naught but the passing of a few heart
beats.
We can see plainly even though it is long since the sun has
set, and by the waning Moon light, our special sight let us see the small cloud
flitting through the skies less than a dozen yards from where we are watching
and can clearly make out the female form of a Giantess with pale white skin
glowing softly. Her silver hair
streaming behind, sparkling in the star light as she hauls the cloud-skiff hard
over & accelerates into a vertical dive. We were somehow caught up in
her precipitous decent as she waives her arms and chants something in a harsh
language; its meaning carried away by the howling wind. Below us a thick
swirling fog springs into place with the unnatural speed of a magic
incantation, as the Giantess gains speed she begins to level out her decent,
adroitly dodging the towering trees as if unconcerned of the danger.
Her course also carries us precariously close to the face of
the mountain as she makes her way towards the heart of the island. A
clearing of colossal proportions suddenly opens up and is clear of fog, the
massive adamantine doors of Amonzadd, the Dwarves first Holding. The
clearing was obviously a place of commerce, though it had been a long counting
of years since it had seen such use. Before us are Daenkelden Warriors
standing clad in their finest armor and fiercest weapons as we rushed towards
them. They stand in thick ranks before
the closed doors & behind them, a cadre of powerful Elven Wizards.
From somewhere above us we hear the sounds of hundreds of bows pulled to
readiness; but the swiftness of the Giantess’ arrival brings her upon them all
before they can act.
Leaping from her cloud-skiff so that she is falling in its
wake, she screams again in that odd language and the skiff changes its shape to
that of a complex rune. We couldn’t understand the rune, for it is
reversed to your vantage point; & for this we can be thankful. Most
of the defenders fall slack-jawed to the ground & hundreds of arrows fly
off at odd angles as the wildly missed their mark. The cloud-sigil
decelerates rapidly and shatters as the giantess crashes through (slowing her
decent to safe speeds) but the spell has already done its work. She grabs
hold of a shard of the cloud as she passes through, cradling it like a babe
& speaking softly to it as she tucks & rolled through the
landing. As she stood, the wisp of cloud formed into a giant sized club
made from wisps of cloud; it seems to be less substantial than a real
club. A jet of fire from one of the wizards injures her, but that is the
extent of the defense… She quickly used her club to render the remaining
defenders unconscious.
She liberated the door key from the Master of the Gate &
quietly let herself into the Daenkelder-hold.
We follow her progress as she moved unerringly to the heart
of the Daenkelden stronghold & burst into the chambers of their war
council. “I am Jathra, leader of the Dawn Clouds! I mean to harm no
one…” she tossed a scroll out onto the large, polished marble table,
“Behold! The Pillars of Expulsion!” The leaders of the Elves &
Daenkelden are suspicious, but in the end, they are too desperate not to trust
her. They begin the massive work of
building enough pillars to surround the vast camps of the Giant army back on
the mainland. The design is to compel the giants peacefully back to their
homes… cooling their lust for violence and shattering the spells of binding
that hold the army to the will of Aeshotal the Mighty.
We slipped forward in time again and many years had passed…
This time we were in the lab-workshop of a powerful Elven
mage & at its center is a vast adamantine obelisk with craftsmen swarming
over its surface. They are carving & inlaying platinum runes and
arcane sigils; moving in time with their complex, rhythmic chanting, they
create a harmony of action that would make an ant envious. When the work
is complete they retired to appointed positions & continue the
chanting. Our attention is drawn this time to the vantage point of an
Elven wizard who enters the room at the back of a long procession of Elven
Wizards and Daenkelden Clerics. As with all Elves, it is impossible to
determine his age, but his placement within the procession told us he was
likely to be the most junior member.
The procession breaks up as they each move to their
appointed places; the Elf we are shadowing is stationed by the door as Guardian
of the Gate. We stare in horror as the bound form of a stone giant is
brought forth into the chamber & prepared for sacrifice. We saw as
the form of an otherworldly presence enters the heart of the diagrams on the
floor around the obelisk, it is ancient and evil. Everyone else addresses
it as the Elf-Mother, but the young Elf Wizard saw “it” for the writhing mass
of tentacles & putrescence that was its true form. It begins to
instruct the wizards in the necessary rituals; blessedly, we never had to hear
or witness any more than that. The Junior Wizard ran from the room long
before the gruesome rite really got going.
He ran through stone halls until he got to a series of rooms
that seem to be his private study, but after he begins to “pick” the locks with
magic, we saw that the room is not his & he was looking for specific items.
As he finds them, he threw them into a sack that seemed entirely too small to
hold such bulk. The door to the study explodes inward as he was racing
for the balcony overlooking a sheltered vale in the heart of the mountain
city. The young Elf leaps from the balcony as Elven & Daenkelden
warriors rushed into the room. He lands upon the back of a mighty eagle
as it swoops into position below him and we fly away into the rising sun;
hearing the tortured screams of the stone giant as the ritual began.
Many months pass swiftly as the young Elven Wizard sits and
waits in the high mountain reaches of the southern Dragonspire Mountains; there
is no need of his Wizard skills to scry on the events. Beyond all hope or
expectation, the Elves & Daenkelden succeed in activating the
obelisks… Raging elementals and floods of raw elemental energies consume
the island as it slowly sinks into the sea; killing Elves, Daenkelder, and
Giants without mercy. The Elven Wizard flew away upon the back of his
mighty eagle. The journey was long, but he eventually circles down to a
small hill that seemed familiar. Circling the hill slowly, The Elf Wizard
casts a mighty spell that calls forth the stones from the ground into the
familiar shapes of the megaliths we entered in order to escape the flames (the
original 0-leval gaggle that played ‘The Portal under the stars’) … so many
thousands of years later.
*** But
this time the vision doesn’t stop where Thingerlun remembers and it continues
on***
I was standing at the base of the hill
on the plateau where Grenvec will eventually be located. At the top of the hill I saw the three
standing stones that form the arched portal that leads to the extra-dimensional
space where our new lives had started.
The plateau is verdant and full of meadow flowers, but there are no
sounds of birds or insects. No breeze
stirs the grass and the sun hangs in the bright blue sky; but it sheds no
warmth. Looking back at the hill-top I
saw the lone figure of the Elf that we’d seen build this place so long ago… in
that first vision after he escaped the sinking of the Isle of Lirea. This was the refugee forced to watch his home
and all he loved was lost in an elemental maelstrom before sinking into the
ocean. He was walking slowly towards the
edge of the cliff, not too far from where I was standing; the Elf is close
enough that I could see the struggle for control upon his face. The Elf turns to me and says; “It has me… but
all is not lost. In you and your
companions do I place my salvation.” The
Elf’s muscles bunched and he tried to throw himself from the cliff; but other
muscles not under his control prevented him from succeeding. After a few seconds of flopping on the ground
he died.
The scene blurred and he now finds
himself upon a vast dark gray plane under a light gray sky. The battle that was raging seems to have been
fought and won to judge by the corpses strewn about. All is quiet save for the sound of gentle
weeping. I follow it to the center of
the battlefield and found and odd scene.
There is a glowing spherical cage of light that encompasses a man sized
dark figure, both set upon a knee high pedestal. Near them are a small crowd of figures, all
of them are human and all but one of them are at least 12ft tall. Taking a good look at them I saw Arisemis,
Elyr, Gorhan, and Lady Justica with new born Ulesh suckling at her breast. They ignore him and continue to gaze upon the
center of the circle their figures make.
I look down and saw Shul, Goddess of
the Moon weeping by the side of Ormazd.
His face is pale and drawn from some unknowable pain. Ormazd is alive, but his breathing is shallow
and Elyr has a hand placed upon his sweating brow and his chest; she seems lost
in concentration. The human sized figure
spotted me and strides over to where I’m standing. It is then that I realized the optical
illusion of the plane… The figure walking up to me is Thormyr and once he is
standing next to me, I had to look up into the eyes of the Deity of Watchmen
and Guards who is now standing about 12ft tall.
We move away from the cluster of divine beings and move closer to the
caged being.
Thormyr, his voice softer than I
expected; “You and your allies have helped us win a great battle this day. Alas, no battle can be fought without
casualties.” We were now standing at the cage of light. “Your companion has
sacrificed greatly, yet his soul is still alive and remains strong. He and the Sword will bind away the vile
creature until the day of their last battle, that time when they shall finally
slay the vile spirit.”
I walked slowly about the cage to
the other side… that is when I saw the face of the Dread Watcher. The creature was ancient, rotted away in
places, but there is no mistake: I was looking into the face of the Elf from
our first vision... the one who survived the fall of the Isle of Lirea and left
all of this equipment for us so long ago.”
At least I
think that’s how it went; Ffwylldyr would’ve done a better job.” His voice was starting to slur a bit from the
several pints it took him to get all the way through the story.
Milo tells
everyone about his visions and relates the following; “My first vision is the
one that drives our quest and went something like this…”
… The handsome, powerful figure of
Ormazd is sitting radiant upon his ruby throne, his fiery hair blazing wildly
around him as he smiles at me. …
Peaceful stillness fills your mind. The
Fire Lord raises his right arm and points to something over my left shoulder…
It makes me sad to take my gaze from
the Fire Lord, but turning away from the frolicsome spirits and their fire
music I see the world of Áereth as I’ve never imagined before. The world spins majestically off in the
distance beyond the inner ring of Valdreth; looking like an exquisite,
grape-sized jewel basking in the warmth and love of the Lord Ormazd. Beyond her are 3 other worlds, growing
smaller in the distance, but all nearly lined up with each other and point
towards the foul sucking darkness that eats all the light that it touches… the
Star of the Black Sun. As the planets
move through two more orbits they perfect their alignment such that even the
moons of each planet are in-line between the glory of the Fire Lord, and the
vile hole in space.
The vantage point changes and I was
close to Áereth again and saw that she is mostly blue and laced with the white
cotton of clouds drifting over the few continents and large islands. I saw the landmasses in the Northern
hemisphere as home, but it is the fierce heat of the Southern continent that
drew my vision onward. I flew over tall,
sharp crags of a mountain range; there on top of a lonely tower a man in robes
screams in ecstatic triumph as the machine in front of him fills up with power
and then releases the energy into the heavens.
It is then that the sickly bolt of
greenish-purple-black lightning arced from the surface of Áereth passing
through each of the now perfectly aligned celestial bodies in turn and on to
the now obscenely pulsing Anti-Sun at the edge of the solar system. When the energy crashes into the Black Sun,
the stars all around it start to undulate like an expanding ripple in a calm
pond. The ripple expands outward and
towards you and then it is past and contracting, then rebounding against
itself. …Parts nearest to the Star of
the Black Sun begin to crumble and shatter.
Opening into a realm of pure vile darkness from which strange and
entirely evil creatures begin to pour out into the wild-space between the
planets.
Thousands of multiple-jointed mouths, streaming putrid
vapors and drooling from their unholy hunger screech as they advance with their
chaotically howling visages on the shining jewel that is your home…
Milo; “The
most recent vision was something like this:”
I too, was standing upon a vast dark
gray plane under a light gray sky. A
battle seems to have been fought and won to judge by the corpses strewn
about. All is quiet save for the sound
of gentle weeping. I follow it to the
center of the battlefield and finds and odd scene. There is a glowing spherical cage of light
that encompasses a man sized dark figure; both are set upon a knee high
pedestal. Near them are a small crowd of
figures, all of them are human and all but one of them are at least 12ft
tall. I saw Aristemis, Elyr, Gorhan, and
Lady Justica with new born Ulesh suckling at her breast. They ignored me and continue to gaze upon the
center of the circle their figures make.
I look down and see Shul, Goddess of
the Moon weeping by the side of Ormazd.
His face is pale and drawn from some unknowable pain. Ormazd is alive, but his breathing is shallow
and Elyr has a hand placed upon his sweating brow and his chest; she seems lost
in concentration. Ormazd waved off Elyr
for a moment, and Shul’s anger at the interruption causes her to momentarily
assume her draconic form… silver fire flashes from her nostril’s; but Ormazd
calmed her with a quiet word and then beckons me closer then touches my
forehead.
I was placed high above the spinning
globe of Áereth and my eye’s saw beyond the physical and into the realm of pure
thought. I perceived the world not as it
is, but as a complex series of processes and cycles; a great machine all held
balanced and kept in motion by the will of the Gods and the action of mortals. Áereth shrinks away as I move to see the
entire system of planets all spinning as part of the same system. Then I saw that all of the planets and moons
have come into alignment and the great machine has slowly wound to a stop. I heard someone walking up behind me and
turned to see Poderon, the God of gnomes and inventers as he passes by and then
stops next to the defunct machine. Each
of the Gods arrive and gives to him an item and he slowly assembles them into a
giant key that he fits into the clock-work of the solar system and starts to
rewind the machine. But it doesn’t work;
the key is incomplete because the Eye of Night had been destroyed.
Ormazd let’s go of me and then
collapses into a coma. The pupils and
irises of his eyes disappear followed by the rest of his eyes as they shrivel
into smoke and drift away on an unfelt breeze.
The voice of the Deity lingers in my ears and heart; “Skullshank will
still try to complete the ritual with a normal gem of brightness, you must save
her…” The last thing that I saw as my
own vision fades into pale gray and vague shadows is Shul, the Moon Goddess
weeping for her beloved.
***
Wysera;
“So who is Shul?”
Milo; “She
is the Law Giver, the Great Silver Moon Dragon, and consort to Ormazd the
Phoenix Lord. She is the Keeper of
Records and the Great Teacher of Sages; she is the Mother of Gorhan the Valiant
and his brother Delvyr the Explorer. Her
clergy used to be concerned with the education of the Imperial Citizenry, but
for the last few hundred years or so Her temples have been largely abandoned to
ruin. The Empire has been more concerned
with growing enough food to supply the troops fighting the Scourge; education
has become a luxury for the rich and a waste of time for everyone but a select
few.”
Lex; “How
is Skullshank going to continue… you shattered the Eye of Night?”
Milo; “Not
sure about the details, my Lord was weak, but I seem to recall that The Eye of
Night was a simple Gem of Brightness that had become enhanced by the divine
magic of Ormazd.”
Thingerlun;
“Well I suppose he might try continuing the spell and substituting the Eye of
Night for a standard Gem of Brightness… It wouldn’t be anywhere near as
powerful, but it might still pose a threat to the moon, since she is closest.”
{Game
clock suspended here with the party deep into their planning @ 10pm April 20,
3200}
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