# Sagiro's Story Hour Returns (new thread started on 5/18/08)



## Sagiro

If you want the following story (which picks up the campaign in the middle) to make the most sense, I suggest you use StevenAC's fantastic PDF version.  He has produced a high-quality PDF that chronicles the entire history of Abernathy's Company, from their humble first-level beginnings to their most recent high-level adventures.  


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 136*_

*Sunday, July 14* - Dranko spends the rest of the day plying his underworld contacts in Tal Hae, hoping to find information about or contacts within the city of Kallor.   Near the end of the day he hits the jackpot; an old rogue named Stockard meets him over a table in a seedy tavern.  Stockard is a close friend of Keertine Smith, the party’s primary contact within the guild of the Undermen.  And Stockard himself has a friend who operates solo out of Kallor.  There is no Thieves’ Guild in the City of Twilight; the Church of Ell would not tolerate it.  But a few men of the streets still operate there, and one of the best is a man named Ruland who typically works out of a tavern called the Tallowhouse.  "Tell him Stockard sent you, and he’ll be able to help you out," Stockard says to Dranko.

Grey Wolf arranges with Morningstar to cast _sending_ spells to his two younger siblings; if he’s really going to die in less than two weeks, he wants to see them one last time.  *Am home at Greenhouse in Tal Hae.  Will be leaving soon.  Would love to see you.  Need to see you.  Ivellios.*

Morningstar does not hear back from his brother Garreth, but does get a reply from his sister  Jaina: *"I can be there in a week; is everything okay?  Ivellios sounds worried.  I’m on a job that I shouldn’t leave, but I can if *" 

Morningstar sends one more _sending_ to Jaina: "*Please come.*"  The reply: "*Ok.  Tell Ivellios I’ll do what I can to get there.*"

Aravis, Dranko and Kay _Teleport_ to the clearing outside the walls of Kallor.  They approach the city gate with Aravis posing as "Lord Turlus," and with Dranko and Kay posing as his bodyguard.   The sun is shining high in the sky above the city, and there is no sign of the "eternal twilight" under which the city always rests.  At the long, enclosed gatehouse, the guards (astonished by the sight of Aravis’ eyes and the metal tracings on his skin) demand that all weapons be peace-bonded while inside the city walls.

When the three of them emerge from the inner doors of the gatehouse, it is twilight.  The sun is visible in the sky, a muted gray disc casting a faint light into the city.  They ask for directions to the Tallowhouse, and head that way.  Once out of sight of the guards, Kay starts tampering with the peace-bonding on her war-hammer, in case she needs to use it in a hurry.

The citizens on the streets of Kallor seem less talkative, less cheerful than they did the last time the party was there (about two years earlier).  People are walking quickly with their heads down, and seem ill at ease.  Aravis feels it, too – an unnatural  sense of foreboding or worry with no obvious cause.  Dranko and Kay feel nothing.

At the Tallowhouse, Dranko goes in and asks for Ruland, and is pointed to a tall man drinking at the back of the tavern.  He walks over.   "You Ruland?" he asks.

"Maybe."

"Stockard sent me."

"Have a seat."

From his conversation with Ruland, Dranko gets the latest local gossip.  The major news is the recent gruesome murder of a local wizard named Alstott.  Alstott used to be an advisor to the city government, but retired many years ago.   He has always been well-liked by the populace, and in his retirement years he spend much of his time making small charms for nobles and delighting children with cantrips.   A couple of weeks ago, Alstott’s body was found on the street right outside of his home.  It was horribly blackened, but from what Ruland could gather, not burned.   The house was searched, evidence was gathered, and all of it has been locked up in the constabulary on orders of the Church.  Ruland promises to do what he can to learn more about what’s going on, and Dranko departs.

On the way back, Kay pokes her head into other taverns, until she spots what she’s looking for.  There’s a large man with one leg sitting at a table, a crutch leaning up against the wall.  She goes in, introduces herself to the man (named Sam) as "Elhen," and strikes up a conversation about what’s going on in town.  Sam also knows about the murder of Alstott, though not anything more than did Ruland.   Much to Kay’s satisfaction, Sam mentions that there are many reports that the orcs in the region have all fled back into the mountains, withdrawing from both Hae Kalkas and Sentinel.   Some troops have returned home, while others have been sent directly to the Balani Peninsula to fight the Delfirians.  But despite this good news, which should be boosting locale morale, everyone seems in a funk.  Interestingly, the city-wide malaise predates the death of Alstott by a good month or two.  

Before they leave Kallor, the three of them rent rooms in advance for a whole week, at an expensive inn called the Moonspell.  Then they _teleport_ back to the Greenhouse.

Morningstar uses another _sending_ spell to contact Vera, an Illuminated Sisters member who serves (discreetly) on the Rhiavonne’s high council in Kallor.  Eventually she arranges an in-person meeting for the following afternoon, once she realizes that Vera is not herself a Dreamwalker.  Morningstar warns Vera that she is persona-non-grata with the mother church these days, that their meeting should be kept secret, and that Morningstar herself might be invisible, in gaseous form, or both.  

Kibi and Grey Wolf spend the hours closed in their rooms, busily transcribing spells from some of their captured spellbooks.  Kibi is trying to ink the spell of _confusion_ which itself is a confusing and daunting task.   Ernie brings them food every so often, keeping up their strength while they study.

*Monday, July 15* - The next morning there is a knock on the door.   The man is given the standard "Farazil Light Test" before he leaves his message: that Makel is going to be leaving the next morning at sunrise, and that he’d like the party to be there for his send-off.  

At two o’clock, Aravis (with Dranko and Morningstar) are all made _invisible_ before _teleporting_ back to their near-Kallor arrival spot.  A few minutes later the diminutive Vera stumbles into the clearing.  "Morningstar?  Are you there?"  

Vera confirms much of what the party has already learned about what’s going on in Kallor.  While she herself doesn’t feel the uneasiness as much as some, High Priestess Rhiavonne feels it most acutely.   She does have some additional tidbits that the party has not learned.  For one, the body of Alstott, as well as the evidence taken from his home, are being held in the constabulary.   This was on the orders of Stersa, one of Rhiavonne’s inner circle.  Stersa had found evidence among Alstott’s possessions that he had been planning an assault on the Church of Ell itself!  Vera doesn’t think that the Black Circle has infiltrated the Ellish temple, but she promises to keep alert and report anything interesting or suspicious back to Morningstar.

That evening there is another knock at the door, and Eddings lets an old white-haired man into the Greenhouse.  He’s well-weathered and liberally scarred, and introduces himself as Sutton, a retired sailor who heard from Makel that the occupants of the Greenhouse were looking to hire a navigator for their ship.  He is friendly, garrulous, willing to cross verbal swords with Dranko, and though astonished by things like Aravis’ eyes, Kibi’s familiar, and the odd monster bits in the trophy case, he takes it all in stride.  He says that although Makel withheld details, he fully prepared Sutton for some strange things.  Sutton has been comfortable retired for a few years, since he sold his ship the _Speeding Scallop_, but the sea has been calling him, and he’s been looking for a unique opportunity to get back in the water.  The party (possibly excepting Dranko) loves him and his attitude, and agrees to hire him on the spot.  He says he’ll be waiting at home for when they need him.

*Tuesday, July 16*- At sunrise the party heads down to the Temple of Brechen, perched on the edge of the harbor.  There is a small crowd of priests and priestesses gathered, as Makel’s ship _Harbinger_ is being readied for a long voyage.   Makel sees them and waves them over to the edge of the water and meets them there. 

"I’m glad you came," he says.   "I’d hate to have missed you before I go."

Ernie has brought him – of all things – some fish to eat on his journey.   "I know you’ll probably be sick of it," he says, "but this is better cooked than what you’ll have on your trip."

Makel’s expression betrays many conflicting emotions: sorrow and happiness, excitement and fear.  He still doesn’t know where his voyage will end.   In a choking voice he thanks the party for everything they’ve done for him; for rescuing him from the bottle, for giving him a purpose in life, and for bringing him back from the dead, which will allow him to pursue this mission for Brechen. 

"And… I don’t know this for certain, but…  I don’t… I don’t think I’ll be seeing you again."

"Oh, c’mon, sure you will," says Dranko encouragingly.  But an uncomfortable silence hangs in the air before Makel speaks again.

"If I don’t leave now, I’m liable to start crying in front of all these people.  Take care of yourselves."

And he walks back up the gangplank and onto the deck of the _Harbinger_.  At once a sweet wind picks up and blows around the harbor.  It fills the ship’s sails, and sweeps Makel away toward the horizon and out of sight.

A few hours later, when most of the group is back in the Greenhouse, Skorg comes in the door.  He’s been out visiting various taverns and getting a feel for the city, and heard an interesting bit of news.  It seems that the city of Calnis, which had been practically encased in crystal for many months (and presumably taken over by an Eye of Moirel inhabiting the body of a gnoll), has become open again.  The crystal has vanished, and forces are being sent in to investigate, and see what is left of the place.

The party’s first assumption is that this is directly due to the death of Restimar and the general withdrawal of humanoid forces in recent weeks.  The other explanation, of course, is that someone managed to enter the city and defeat the Eye-gnoll.   There is no further information to advance either of these possibilities.

…to be continued…


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## el-remmen

Hooray!

I'm ready for more Avengers-like action!!!  Titantic Tales of Terrible Trials Against Tumultuous Terrors!!!


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## Sagiro

Grim said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Ah... I'm hoping for more stories... these are soooo good.
> 
> ...
> 
> One question:
> 
> How do you keep track of what happened in a given session? Do you keep notes? or write it from memory? or what?
> 
> Thanks,
> Grim *





The answer to your second question is:  I jot down little notes in the margins of my "run sheet" as things happen, to help jog my memory later when I write the summary.  It also helps that one of my players is also my fiancee, and she reads them over to catch things I've forgotten.  She has a great memory for details!

As for ending the story soon... no worries about that!  One particular arc _may_ be wrapping up in the near future, but there are plenty of other threads still dangling.  In addition to other on-going plans of the primary enemy, there's also:

* The Eyes of Moirel/Het Branoi/"Traveling Nowhere" plot
* The party's strong desire to return to Kivia to free the imprisoned Dwarves of Gurund...
*...which may end up being related to Morningstar's designation as "The Slayer" by a huge winged blue-skinned ogre
* Ernie's promise to return with the party and help the halflings of Appleseed once their current labors are finished
* And what's up with Aravis being "like a cat," anyway?
* And there may be grander designs in the offing than anyone has yet guessed.  (insert evil laugh here)

No, I think there's enough material to go on right now to take the party well into the mid to upper teens, level-wise, before I finish up just the threads that are dangling as of now.  And I'm sure more loose ends will be created in the future.

Thanks all for the welcome back... my next game is this coming Sunday, and I'll try to post sometime in the week after that.

-Sagiro


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## Piratecat

Yeah - otherwise known as "Dranko abuses Morningstar's trust and learns to humbly eat crow."Or hook bat, as the case may be. We learn stuff, we kill stuff, we run from stuff, Morningstar flushes out betrayers, Kay hides in a revolting location, and Aravis has a revelation!


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## Sagiro

I'm still working on the write-up of last session, but here's a first installment to tide people over.  I should be done the rest by the end of the week, but I give no guarantees.  


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 137a*_

*Tuesday, July 16*

Now talk turns more seriously to planning an investigative excursion to Kallor.   There has been no word from Ozilinsh or the archmagi in some time now, so it appears that the Company is on its own.  (Ernie sums things up nicely:  "The Archmagi are keeping the front door locked while the Black Circle are sawing off the back half of the house!")  After some hours discussing things, it becomes clear that the best and safest plan is going to involve (gulp) splitting the party.  Eventually at least part of the plan takes shape: Morningstar is going to go, by herself, to the High Temple of Ell in Kallor, the seat of all the Ellish church in Charagan.  There she will tell everything to the High Priestess Rhiavonne, both as plea for help, and as a warning that there might be Black Circle spies within the church.  This plan has some very obvious risks.   Morningstar will be separated from the group, and if there is a Black Circle agent or agents in the church, they could attempt some mischief.  And Rhiavonne is no friend to the Illuminated Sisters of Ell, with whom Morningstar is strongly connected.  And what if Rhiavonne herself is a Black Circle agent?  Morningstar might walk into the temple and simply vanish.  But it’s a risk with upside, and she’s willing to take it.

To cheer her up, Dranko presents Morningstar with an actual engagement ring, which he had custom made from gartine.  "It’s so… light!" Morningstar exclaims.

Once that is decided, the rest of the group makes a plan out of earshot of Morningstar; if she _does_ end up captured and interrogated, she shouldn’t know what everyone else is up to.  Her only request is that, if the rest of the party goes and does investigating on their own, that they keep an extremely low profile and not get into _any_ trouble.  

After some more debate, the Company decides that Grey Wolf will be safest staying in the Greenhouse – the safest place in the Kingdom, as far as they know – and that Kibi and Skorg will stay with him, along with Eddings.  Both of the wizards can use the time to continue scribing spells into their books.

*>> For most of this run, Kibi’s player ran Flicker, and Grey Wolf’s player ran One Certain Step.*

The rest of the party will _teleport_ back to their inn room (paid for the next two weeks) in Kallor.   Dranko and Kay both wear spiral pendants recently captured from the Sharshun, that protect the wearer from mind-affecting spells.  Knowing that they usually burn out after a while, Dranko puts his on and asks Morningstar if she can read his thoughts with a _detect thoughts_ spell.

"Feel free not to tell us what they are," Kay adds.  Morningstar casts her spell, and it seems that the pendants are still working.

Aravis comes to the realization that the weight limit on _teleport_ isn’t so much of an issue when some of the people he’s taking along have had _wind walk_ cast upon them.  Morningstar casts _wind walk_ on herself, Kay, One Certain Step and Dranko, while Kibi adds _invisibility_ to Kay and Dranko.   The rest of the group assures Morningstar that they have the plan all set, and then she takes off on the seven-hour _wind walk_ journey to Kallor.

Before the rest of them _teleport_, Aravis spends some more time examining the Crosser’s Maze, to get a better sense of how long they have before the planes align.  He has an epiphany of sorts; for the first time he feels truly at ease, and in control, while he examines the multiverse through the Maze.  By observing the overlapping primes for a few minutes and gauging cosmic distances, Aravis guesses that the planes will converge in between 9 and 12 days.  If he looks again in a few days, he is confident that he’ll be able to make a more accurate guess.  He also notices in a vague way that the Maze is drawing energy from some outer-planar source, but before he can discover any more, the strain of observing the Maze finally catches up with him, and he is forced to return to reality.

A few minutes later, he _teleports_ the rest of them into his spacious, expensive room at the Moonspell in Kallor.  Aravis is immediately struck by a feeling of unease, a nervousness with no clear cause.  None of the others feel particularly affected by it.  Then the party splits up even more: Ernie and Flicker go across town and reserve rooms at a number of seedy inns, so that any potential spies will have a hard time figuring out where they’re actually staying.   They play cards in the common room of one of the inns, and try to gain some information from some of the locals.   They comment that the people here seem less affected by the general ill-feeling that permeates the city, and while they lose some silver at cards, they gain the interesting opinion that the weird malaise "affects them rich people more than it does us!  I think it must be that rich food them wealthy folks are always eatin’!"

Meanwhile, Kay and Dranko, _invisible_ and _wind-walking_, decide to investigate the constabulary and get a look at the body of the murdered wizard Alstott, leaving Aravis and Step behind in their room at the inn.  It’s not exactly the kind of subtlety Morningstar had hoped for – in fact, she had expressly forbid such shenanigans - but it seems like a safe enough plan.  They have no problem breezing into the constabulary through a chimney, and doing a quick investigation of the upper floors.  They hear a bit of loud, angry voice coming from an office down one of the halls, saying "…stay locked up for a while longer… damned priestesses."  Those words were uttered by the guard captain, who sits behind a desk scribbling notes and scowling.  They follow a second man (to whom he was presumably speaking), but when that man only goes out to relieve one of the guards at the outer doors, Kay and Dranko waft back inside and continue to search the place.  Eventually they head down to the basement level, where a guard sits in a chair at the bottom of the stair, keeping an eye on two hallways that branch away.  Down one hallway is a row of cells, with only one uninteresting prisoner.  At the end of the other hallway is a barred iron door; this must be it, they think.

Well, that’s true, if "it" is "trapped by an _alarm_ spell."  The bell goes off as they glide through the thin gap at the foot of the door and into the small room beyond.  At least it’s the room that they’re looking for, an evidence room with books, papers and potions laid out on a table.  There is another door on the opposite wall, and as they head through that one, the first door opens an the guard pokes his head in, shining a lantern out in front of him.  Invisible though Kay and Dranko might be, the guard spots them as they stream through the cracks around other door and shouts: "Hey!  You, stop!"  They don’t stop.  They hear the footsteps recede, and the guard calling for help.

Dranko and Kay head down a flight of stairs and through another doorway, into a small, cold room containing a wooden table atop which is horribly blackened body.   With a few seconds of quiet, Kay examines the corpse.  At first glance it looks like terrible burns, but on second glance it’s not that at all.  It looks as if most of his skin has been smeared with some kind of black tar, except that it’s dry and flaky, not moist.   Many of his features have been… smeared… or… sanded away, as if by with a heavy tar-covered rag.  The right side of his mouth, his right eye, most of the nose, are just… gone, wiped away by something.  Kay has great experience examining bodies of creatures and figuring out how they died, but this is like nothing she has ever seen.

There is the sound of returning footsteps descending the stairs outside the room.  Dranko tries to hide in a small crack through which a trickle of chilly water is flowing, but there’s not enough room for his vaporous body.  Instead he hides up near the ceiling, directly above the doorway, where someone entering the room might not think to look.  (In case he is discovered, Dranko uses the _change self_ power of the _robe of blending_ to look as much like Alstott as possible, recreating some of the facial distortion.)  But there’s only enough room above the door for one of them, and no place for Kay to hide…

except…

With no time to think, and strong misgivings nonetheless, Kay flows into what remains of Alstott’s mouth and spreads herself in the hollow spaces of the dead body.  Fortunately Alstott was a much bigger person than Kay, and there’s just room enough for her.  The door opens, and the guard with the lantern thrusts it forward and into the room.  Not caught in the direct rays of the light, Dranko slips quietly above their heads, and takes up the equivalent position on the other side of the door, not knowing if Kay will be discovered.

There are three guards there altogether, and they peer around the room.

"Nothin’ here," says one.

"I tell you I saw something," says the one holding the lantern.  "Like a misty ghost, flying under the door.  It had to of come down here."

"It’s not here now.  Just the body.  And hey, we shouldn’t even be in here without Cobb… we could get in trouble.  I suppose we should go fetch him."

The two other guards leave and head back up the stairs.  The guard with the lantern takes one last look around, shrugs, and follows the others.  Dranko tries to duck back over his head, but this time the guard catches a bit of the movement within the light of the lantern, and shines it directly up at Dranko.  

"Damn!" he cries.  "What th’ hell?  Whatever you are, stop right there!"

Dranko does his best impersonation of the Ghost of Alstott: "Wooooooooooooo"  The guard starts shouting for help again.

With nothing left to gain by staying, Dranko goes flying past him, up the stairs at top speed.  Kay comes pouring out the body, further terrifying the poor guard.  As the two of them go flying back up the main stairs beyond the evidence room, other guards are coming down.  Kay asks Oa Lyanna to fly separately, so that it will look like three different apparitions to anyone who can see them.  They all go flying past the other guards (who don’t seem to see them), back down the main hall of the constabulary, and out the door.

Dranko whispers to Kay on their way back to meet the others at the Moonspell: "Morningstar is going to kill me.  If I’m lucky."

And while the halflings are off bar-hopping, and Kay and Dranko are busy keeping a -- ahem -- low profile, Aravis stays in his inn room with Step and engages in further examination of the Crosser’s Maze.   He slides his mind back into the Maze and its presentation of the multiverse.  He feels more comfortable than ever fixing his attention on various aspects, observing the interactions of the Primes, as well as other more exotic planes of existence.  And for the first time he notices a fine beam of reddish energy, spilling into the nearby cosmic space as if someone had poked a pin-hole through the fabric of the Astral and Ethereal Planes.  This energy is pouring in and striking his own Prime, extremely near to where he himself is.  It’s power, he realizes… it’s drawn to the Crosser’s Maze, and must be the energy that fuels it!  But when the energy reaches the Prime, it also becomes diffuse, spreading itself out across the great expanse.  In that form it is unfocused, and useless.  

This is as much as Aravis has ever been able to glean about the Maze, but he still feels comfortable and in control of his faculties, and so he concentrates further on this energy.  His perception sharpens.  He sees that the energy is diffuse because it is drawn to all living things upon the Prime.  Aravis applies all of his mental energies toward the analysis of that energy… there’s a secret that he can almost grasp, a fact about the Maze that could…

A ha!  Yes!  That’s how the Maze works!  He can draw that power, that mysterious energy, through the living creatures nearest himself on the Prime.   Living beings will serve as foci for its power, concentrating the energy into a potent magical force.  He can draw the power through the vital essences of living creatures, and then use it to directly affect anyone or anything attempting to pass from any one Plane to another.   That is what the Maze is for, and how it can be used… its true secret, Aravis realizes.  The only thing he cannot guess is what happens to those creatures who are used to focus the power of the Crosser’s Maze.  Perhaps if he takes a closer…

The stress finally becomes too much for his mind; he collapses onto the floor, barely conscious.  Step rushes over and _lays on hands_, turning Aravis’ crushing headache into something more manageable.  Aravis smiles through the pain.  "Step, I have it…."

...to be continued...


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## Plane Sailing

Another thought has just occurred to me - crossers maze able to use life energy to affect interplanar travel... Black Circle trying to bring the two primes into convergence... Black Circle over in Kiva with their oracle shrines - giving answers to people for... some of their life energy?!?

I wonder if there is a connection. Pretty wicked if the price for answered questions was unwittingly drawing you towards the destruction of your own prime material plane!

Cheers


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## Sagiro

Here's the rest of last Sunday's session:

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 137b*_

*Wednesday, July 17*

Traveling by night in a dark sky illuminated only by stars and a sliver of moon, Morningstar spends nine long hours of _wind walking_ to reach the city of Kallor.  A bit after three o’clock in the morning she wafts silently over the walls of the City of Twilight and reforms herself into a solid shape.  She heads quickly toward the Temple of Ell, and as it’s the middle of the night, it’s busy and full of active sisters.

She is met politely at the door, but the door-guards become a bit cool when Morningstar introduces herself.   They are taken aback by her immediate desire to speak with High Priestess Rhiavonne on an urgent matter, but Morningstar’s name carries some weight, even if it’s in an adversarial fashion.  She is escorted inside the darkened halls of the Temple of Ell.  No lights burn anywhere inside, but the sisters move about with a comfortable lack of concern.  The walls are all intricately carved, and the sisters occasionally allow their hands to trail along the walls, experiencing them as tactile art.

A priestess is sent away into the upper floors of the building, and comes back soon after with an announcement that Rhiavonne will be able to see her in half an hour.  In the meantime, Morningstar is seated and kept comfortable.  After she has waited a few minutes, a young novice comes up and sits nervously down next to her.  "Hello," she stammers.  Morningstar nods politely in greeting.

"Can I ask you a question?" asks the novice.  "What’s… what’s she like?  Amber, I mean." 

Morningstar smiles, thinks for a moment.  "She’s extremely devoted," she says.  "Amber serves the Church as well as any sister I’ve met."

"I hear… I hear she doesn’t approve of us at all.  That you… that she thinks we’re not following Ell in the right way.  That she thinks her way is better."

"That’s putting it much too strongly," answers Morningstar.

The novice starts to ask another question, but Morningstar is spared the onus of answering as a priestess approaches and announces that Rhiavonne will see her now, and could she please follow up the stairs.

Rhiavonne’s office is small, not like the grand and ornate quarters of Priestess Milanwy back in Tal Hae.  And Rhiavonne herself is small, not any higher than five feet.  She is old and wrinkled – at least seventy years lie on her – and motions Morningstar to sit in a chair before her desk.  Morningstar sits nervously, here in the presence of one who she knows looks on her with disapproval.  She fears what Rhiavonne will say or do.

"It is good to meet you," Rhiavonne says.  "I’ve looked forward to this moment.  I have much to say to you.  But you have saved me the trouble of sending for you.  Your news must be extremely urgent, so tell me, what has brought you to me?"

Morningstar takes a deep breath.  And then she tells Rhiavonne everything.  That is, all about the Black Circle plans to merge two Primes and bring forth an army.  All about her _commune_ spell during which Ell told her the Black Circle ritual was happening here in Kallor. All about Grey Wolf’s role in the cosmic events.   And all about her suspicions that Black Circle agents have possibly infiltrated the Ellish church here in the city.

Rhiavonne interrupts her at various points.  She knows what the Black Circle is, and how they operate.  She even mentions that Morningstar’s own party may have been compromised, specifically Dranko, whose own church of Delioch is known to have been infiltrated by the Circle.  And she wonders aloud that the Archmagi must certainly be aware of the problem, and isn’t Morningstar and her "team" supposed to be dealing with these sorts of crises?  

Also, in the middle of their discussion there is a knock on the door, and a tall, nervous priestess enters.  

"Yes?" Rhiavonne snaps, annoyed at the intrusion.

"I’m sorry, your Holiness," she stammers, looking nervously at Morningstar.  "I just wanted to make sure you were.. all right… and that you didn’t need any assistance… or anything."  She keeps looking at Morningstar, as if she expects that an Illuminated Sister might try anything at any moment.

Rhiavonne looks at the newcomer sternly.  "They don’t bite, Stersa," she says, and the woman blushes.  "We’re fine.  If I require anything, I will send for it.  Now please excuse us."

Rhiavonne apologizes, and Morningstar finishes her story.  "My chief concerns," she concludes, "are that there may be Black Circle agents here, and that if an army does invade, the city itself will be in great danger."

Rhiavonne is quite attentive, and takes all of Morningstar’s story seriously.  There is no sign of her dislike or mistrust of the Illuminated Sisters, and she offers that the sisters of the temple will search for signs of the Black Circle, and start preparing against possible physical consequences of two planes converging with Kallor as a focal point.  She doubts that the Ellish church has been compromised, but accepts the possibility.

She also addresses Morningstar’s suspicion that the Black Circle plot is related to the general feeling of unease among the people of the town.  

"I have investigated that," says Rhiavonne.  "We still don’t know the cause or the source, but we know this: that it affects practitioners of the arcane more than any.  People with strong ties to the divine are affected somewhat less, and those with no magic in them are only slightly troubled.  But with time, all people start to feel it, even the plainest beggar in town.  And it has been months now since the first breath of gloom was felt in Kallor."

Morningstar lastly brings up the matter of Alstott’s death, and the possible connection with the Black Circle.  Specifically she is worried about its connection with the Church, insofar as the wizard was planning an attack on the temple, and that the evidence has been locked up on orders of the church.

"Ah, I have named Stersa to head up the investigation… that was her who came in to check on us.  She is a trusted member of my inner council, and I’m sure she’s doing a thorough job."

Morningstar asks to speak with Stersa, and the priestess is summoned before the two of them.

Stersa says that, yes, she has done extensive investigation into the death of Alstott.  Although she is still unsure of the cause of death, she thinks that the man must have been mad.  "After all, he was planning a single-person attack on the entire temple!  He had sketches of the buildings, and lists of spells he was going to cast.   It never would have worked.  Alstott must suffer the mental degradation that sometimes happens to the very old.  Anyway, it’s a sensitive subject, and I have the evidence safely kept down at the constabulary.   We continue to study it, hoping for clues."

Morningstar asks if she can see the body and the evidence.  Stersa is reluctant, and balks, but Rhiavonne insists.  Stersa is discomfited, but agrees.  "But we won’t be allowed in until I consult with the guard captain, Cobb, and he’s probably asleep.  Give me an hour to make the arrangements, and then I’ll come back to escort you."

An hour passes, and Stersa does not come back.  A second hour passes, and then a third.   Somewhere outside the walls of Kallor the sun starts to rise, and a faint blue-gray light starts to filter into the city.  There is no sign of Stersa.  Morningstar fears that someone has waylaid her en route, knowing her plans.   She could have been followed from the temple itself.  Once more she asks to speak with Rhiavonne, and again is granted an audience.  When Rhiavonne learns that Stersa has not come back, she writes and signs a letter to be shown to Cobb, giving Morningstar full rights to examine all materials relating to Alstott’s death.

"No need to tell you to be careful," she tells Morningstar.  And then she adds: "There still much I wish to discuss, concerning… other matters.  But all of that can wait until this current business is taken care of.  Good luck, and let me know if we can help you further."

Before she leaves, Morningstar decides to cast a _sending_ to Dranko, but realizes that he’s probably still asleep.  She drops into a trance, finds his dreams, and starts to alter it.  Suddenly Dranko is dreaming that he really must wake up at once, and with a great effort of will, wrenches himself awake.  "Huh?  Wh.. ?  Who…"   Then he gets the _sending_, that Morningstar is about to head to the Constabulary for a look at the murder evidence, and that the rest of the party should join her there. 

Morningstar sets out into the dark gray early dawn.  She keeps an eye out for signs of Stersa (or of a recent struggle), but sees nothing out of the ordinary.  (There are very few people out on the streets at all, at that hour.) When she arrives a few minutes later at the constabulary, there are no guards posted outside, and no sign that anyone has been here recently.  Instead of knocking or going in, she decides to wait for the others, and melts into the shadows on the opposite side of the street.

And that’s when the creatures attack.  For one brief instant she feels a terrible feeling of foreboding, and then three black shapes emerge from the shadows around her.  They are humanoid but featureless, and slightly blurry around the edges.  They make no noise, and flail at her with black, fog-like appendages.  Where they strike, Morningstar’s skin is left with a horrible, stinging black smear.  Wounded, she takes a step back, calls loudly for help, and attempts to cast a _flame strike_ that will envelop all three of these strange attackers.  But their wildly flailing limbs cause her arm motions to go awry in mid-casting, and the spell fails her.  They launch another assault, their black arms ignoring her armor and leaving more painful black smears.  Enough is enough.  Morningstar turns and runs in the direction she expects the rest of the party to be coming from, shouting loudly for help the whole time.

The black shadow-creatures keep pace.  She can feel waves of horror rolling off them, like a nausea of the mind.  After a minute, huffing and panting, she becomes aware that there are pursuing footsteps behind the creatures, and a human voice cries "stop at once!"  But the creatures do not stop, and so neither does Morningstar.

Back at the Moonspell, Dranko has woken the rest of the party.  Aravis still needs another hour of sleep before he’ll be able to prepare spells, so he stays behind, and Kay stays with him.  The rest of them get hastily dressed and head out into the cool morning air to meet Morningstar at the constabulary.  After a few minutes walking the streets of Kallor, they see her up ahead… fleeing in horror from something behind her!  

"Help!" she gasps.

Flicker is first to react.  He launches a sling-stone at one of the creatures, and where it strikes there is a puff of foul black smoke.  Dranko then unwinds his _Whip of the Searing Tongue_ and uses it to fire a _searing light_ directly at one of the creatures.  The beam flies true, hits the black monster – and passes harmlessly out through the other side of its body.  Dranko utters a disappointed oath.   Ernie and Step run forward, clanging in their armor, to engage the things and get them away from Morningstar.   Morningstar herself stops running, takes one step away from them, and tries _turning_ them, hoping that they are undead.  No such luck; holy power fills her Ellish symbol, and she flings it outward toward the creatures, but they do not flinch.   Step runs forward and takes a mighty swing with his flaming greatsword "Firebrand," and executes a perfect swing right through the neck of one of the attackers.  But the sword passes harmlessly through the creature, and Step can feel the sword become awkward and unbalanced as it passes through the thing’s body.  Ernie tries casting _dispel magic_ on the creatures, but to no avail.  Morningstar continues to be pummeled by the creatures, and now much of her body is covered with painful black smudges.  She tries swinging her own weapon, but with no more success than Step.  And a guard from the constabulary, who heard Morningstar’s cries and has been running in pursuit, finally arrives and takes an wildly errant swing.  "What in Ell’s name…?" he cries.

 But Flicker fires another pair of sling bullets, and again when they strike there is a tangible reaction.  Black puffs of vapor fly from the points of impact.  But why is the sling working, when all spells and better weapons aren’t having any…   ah!  The creatures must be immune to all magic, even magic weapons!  Once they make that realization, the battle turns quickly.  Dranko produces a non-magical mace from his magical _haversack_, and Ernie (after healing Morningstar) uses his gartine sword.  Although the creatures have an easy time hitting (their attacks are all touch attacks), and Dranko and Morningstar both end up badly pummeled, the foul beasts are also easy to hit with the right weapons, and don’t last long.  As each is dispatched, it dissipates in a cloud of black smoke, leaving no trace save a lingering feeling of doubt and anxiety.  But the wounds they caused have turned the skin of their victims the color of tar.  As the party heals up, the blackness fades, but they purposely don’t heal fully, in order to leave patches of skin that can be positively matched with that of Alstott.

The guard escorts the party back to the constabulary, where they demand to be let in to see the evidence of Alstott’s murder.  When the guard balks, they show him the letter sealed with Rhiavonne’s insignia.  

"Look, I’d better go get Cobb then.  He’s asleep, but he’ll get up for this."

The guard goes inside to grab a traveling buddy (what with weird creatures roaming the streets) and leaves the party hanging around outside for a few minutes.  The pair of guards comes back a short while later with a third man – Dranko recognizes him as the captain he saw the day before, but doesn’t betray the fact.  

"What’s all this then, and who are you people?" demands Cobb.  He’s a serious, non-nonsense man, and a still, silent _detect thoughts_ from Morningstar shows him to be on the level.  But while he’s mildly upset at the commotion and being woken up, he gets downright mad when he reads the letter from Rhiavonne.  For a moment he looks fit to burst, but then he takes a deep breath, and grumbles: "Ok, I’ll let you inside.  But I’m going to be right there with you.  I want to get a good look at the evidence too."

There is some momentary confusion.  Hasn’t he seen it already?

"Not such that I’ve gotten a good look," he says.  That woman from the Ellish temple in charge of the investigation, that Stersa, she ordered everything locked up tight.  Heck, she wanted to destroy it all, something about it being a security risk.  I told her that just isn’t how things are done, and that Ellish priestess or no, she’s not about to get me to destroy the evidence before a proper investigation.  In the end we reached a compromise; that I’d keep it locked away and no one would touch it, for just a couple o’ weeks.  She said the security risk wouldn’t be a problem after that."

All of which now strongly points to Stersa being a traitor, and probably a Black Circle agent.

The party is led in and allowed to examine the evidence.  There is a pile of papers, most of them burned and illegible, but one sheet of parchment on top is conspicuously unblemished.  On it is a rough sketch of the Ellish temple buildings, and notes scrawled in the margins, planning an assault.  The handwriting does match that found in a large book on the table, partially burned but still readable.  The book is packed with tiny writing and detailed diagrams, harmless notes on spell theory and research.   Behind the book on the evidence table rests a rack of potions, each labeled.  They correspond with notes made on the attack-plans: _invisibility, darkvision, non-detection, spider climb_ and _gaseous form_.  

By this time they figure that Aravis has gotten enough sleep, and they send for him and Kay to join them at the constabulary.   Soon all are assembled there.

Morningstar goes first into the room with Alstott’s blackened corpse, and casts _thought capture_.   The though she picks up is of someone experiencing something very unpleasant:  "Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew!"  And the mind is familiar.  Oh, no…   She turns to look at Kay, who looks sheepish, and then at Dranko, who looks even more so.

"Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew?"  says Morningstar, eyebrows raised, and starting already to become angry.  "I thought you were going to be discreet!  What happened to just asking to be let in?  What happened to asking subtle questions?  What happened to our hours of planning just to avoid this sort of thing?  Don’t you realize the jeopardy you put me in, put my whole church in, by risking raising an alarm too soon?  Yes, things worked out okay, but that was just luck!  I’m _very_ disappointed in you." 

Dranko starts to mutter excuses, about how it all would have worked so smoothly if not for the _alarm_ spell and the lantern that detected invisible things.  But in the end he straightens himself up, and says "Morningstar, I’m all about honesty.  And honestly, I was a bonehead."  Morningstar is quick to agree.

Dranko tries to _speak with dead_, but to his surprise and dismay it doesn’t work.  Perhaps the anti-magic nature of the black creatures is such that even things killed by them are immune to spells.  But that proves not to be the case, since the next spell he casts does work: _dead man’s eyes._ This lets him see the last five minutes of Alstott’s life, through the eyes of the wizard himself.  Dranko’s eyes roll up into his head, and suddenly he is in a small but cluttered study, just closing a large book in front of him.  Dranko doesn’t catch what he had just written, but does remember the page.  Alstott shakes his head, puts down his quill, stands slowly, then walks over to a shelf full of knickknacks and baubles.  He takes one down, gives it a shake, and watches as it lights up.  He does the same with a few more, and then puts them all into a bag.  With a lighter step he walks down stairs, grabs a quick bite of bread and a mug of water, and then steps outside into the gloomy shadows of Kallor.  Suddenly a black shadow fills his field of vision, and he is knocked back.  He holds his arm up to his eyes and sees a sickly black smear across it.  Quickly he takes a step back, and sees over half a dozen black featureless figures advancing toward him.  He waves his arms, casts a spell, and the black creatures are engulfed in flames.  But the flames quickly clear, and the creatures are left unharmed.  The rush him, surround him, arms flailing…

…and Dranko breaks off the spell, not wishing to share the actual moment of death.  Grimly he relays the details to the others.  Ernie sniffs.  "Didn’t someone say that Alstott used to hand out trinkets to children in his retirement?  I’ll bet that’s what he was on his way to do.  And then…oh, that’s horrible!"

Dranko goes back to the evidence room, and flips through the book.  It’s all notes and sketches, but Dranko turns to the page Alstott had just been writing before his death.  Down near the bottom, in writing that would typically go unnoticed but which is a tad larger than the rest, is the following note: "Divination sink in the silent quarter, protects itself.  Almost certainly connected with cultist activity.  Unease caused by null shadows?

And that makes even more things clear.  The silent quarter is a large neighborhood in Kallor occupied mostly by wealthy retirees.  There are city ordinances prohibiting loud noises, and the streets are well patrolled.  If the source of the unease is centered there, it would explain why it seems to be more of a "rich folks" problem.   What "null shadows" are seems obvious.  Now the Company has a decent lead to follow.  But what is a "Divination sink?"  

There is one last place to investigate, and that is Alstott’s home.  As they walk over there together, Cobb explains that when he arrived with a team of guards after word of the murder had spread, Stersa had just arrived herself. She was walking down from the upper floor of the house "having been doing some investigation herself."  Since the day that the evidence was removed, Cobb has had guards stationed at the door to make sure no one got in.  But when the party arrives, they find that although the guards have seen no one enter or leave, the upstairs study has been entirely emptied out.  Damn!  Morningstar blankets the room with _thought captures_, and receives an assortment of uninteresting thoughts of Alstott and Cobb, along with one from Stersa that thinks: "It’s going to be tough getting this stuff entirely disposed of, but I’ll bet I can get it locked away for a couple of weeks."

Finally Morningstar goes back to the Temple of Ell to give Rhiavonne the news about Stersa.  By this time it is getting on to be mid-morning, and so the High Priestess is asleep.  The duty-clerics are loathe to wake her, but Morningstar insists.  "It’s on your head then," they say, and they instruct Morningstar to wait in the foyer.  A few minutes later Rhiavonne comes clumping down the stairs in a black robe, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.   Morningstar tells her all that she has learned, particularly the apparent treachery of Stersa.  Rhiavonne is obviously concerned; Stersa was deep in many of her counsels.  And now it makes sense, that Stersa was eager to volunteer to investigate the murder on behalf of the church.   Rhiavonne thanks Morningstar for all of her help, and reiterates her offer of assistance should Morningstar desire it.  Then she goes back to sleep, leaving the Company to continue their plans for finding and stopping the Black Circle.

…to be continued…


----------



## RangerWickett

I could feel Morningstar's fear as she had to turn and run from the null shadows.  I doubt she has had to outright flee from anything for a while.

I honestly do love this story, and some time this summer, when you finally finish this story arc, I will sit down and reread the entire thing.

Also, you'll have to tell us what you'd change if you could do it again.  For example, where have the Sharshun gone off to?  They were a great twist on the stereotypical dark Elf.  Are there any more secrets for the PCs to uncover about themselves, aside from that whole cat thing?

And where is Sagiro?


----------



## Sagiro

Caliber said:
			
		

> *Just a slight bump to keep this on the first page. *




That was kind of you.   

If any of you have played the Playstation 2 game "Ico," you'll have a good idea of how I picture the Null Shadows.

Oh, and we play this coming Sunday.  Here's the teaser e-mail I sent to my players earlier in the week:

"Next game this Sunday, at 4:00 PM.  It could feature:

stealthy sleuthing
massive armies
breaking-and-entering
dream powers
snazzy uniforms
black circles
black-lizard pie
deadly combat
angry guards
angry bakers
ill-timed requests
mass confusion
critical timing
concerned relatives
unfortunate odds
hideous magics
foiled magics
hidden caches
...and the ever-popular...
party-member betrayal.

What will you do?  What will you discover?  What will try to stop you?  
...and how the heck are some of you going to get out of *this* fine mess?

find out this Sunday, as the Company schemes, while Volpos and Abernia move ever closer to their catastrophic embrace."

-Sagiro


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## KidCthulhu

Angry Bakers!  My thoughts exactly.  This is the run where we find out that those chocolate covered donuts and whoopie pies  were really Turlis' subtle way of hinting that he's behind the whole Black Circle plot.  

I still haven't figured out what the crullers mean, although I'm sure Dranko will tell me.


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## Piratecat

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *I still haven't figured out what the crullers mean, although I'm sure Dranko will tell me. *




Ernie doesn't date much, does he?


----------



## KidCthulhu

We played yesterday.  The run went like this:

Get butts kicked
Deadly surprise peril
Get butts kicked
Condescending servants and house guards

oy.  That Sagiro is a bad, bad man.


----------



## Piratecat

KidCthulhu is being purposefully vague, but here are a few highlights of the evening:

- Dranko running full out, most of his body obscured by the null shadows' taint, pursued by shadowy shapes that he just can't lose

- Greywolf, Kibi, Eddings and Skorg make a very unwanted side trip

- Aravis sending his familiar Pewter in to fight a null shaodw, and making the horrible discovery that Pewter is an inherently magical cat....

- Ernie gets job offers from the only cook he's met who doesn't gossip

- Morningstar practices the fine art of throwing her weight around

- Surrounded by fourteen enemy and virtually defenseless, the Company becomes convinced that we're all going to die; Aravis, unable to climb a rope and being attacked by five null shadows a round, comes within inches of proving us correct.

It was quite a game!


----------



## Sagiro

Thanks for the bumps!  I've been doing other things when I clearly should have been working on the Story Hour.   I just wrote up the first section of the last run; there's more, but that will have to come later.  -Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 138a*_

*Wednesday, July 17*

The Company heads back to the Moonspell.  Morningstar desperately needs sleep, but before she hits the sack, she sends a _sending_ to Grey Wolf back in the Greenhouse, giving  him a brief recap, and asking him to see if he can learn anything about a "Divination Sink."  Grey Wolf reports back that things have been quiet in the Greenhouse, and that his studies continue apace.

A few minutes after the _Sending_, there is a knock on Grey Wolf’s door.  Skorg is there with a big grin on his face.  "Lunchtime!" he says brightly.  Grey Wolf can detect an unpleasant odor coming from the kitchen.  Skorg rouses Kibi as well.  "Come on!  You wizardy types need to eat sometime, to keep up your strength."

In the dining room the table is set with plates containing some sort of black oozy substance.  A questionable smell wafts from the plates.  Eddings is already seated, trying not to look disgusted.  "Black lizard pie!" announces Skorg proudly.   "I made it from scratch myself.  I had the Icebox deliver a brace of fresh black lizards, and used some of Ernie’s spices to give the pie extra flavor."

"I suggest the spices," Eddings offers helpfully.  "Lots of spices."

Kibi and Grey Wolf sit, their noses wrinkling uncontrollably.  Skorg starts wolfing down forkfuls of pie.  Eddings pushes his food around with his fork without enthusiasm.  

And then the Greenhouse vanishes.   Grey Wolf feels a lurching in his stomach, and the constant feeling of churning semi-nausea is replaced by a different sort of discomfort.  Now it feels like a deep vibration, like a buzzer is going off in his innards.  After a second of disorientation, the four of them look around and see that they are in deep, deep trouble.

It is night.  They are outdoors, on a vast plain, in the midst of an army.   All around them are tents, campfires, and the sounds of an army camp at night.  They can hear grunts, clanks, voices, horses, the crackling of torches.  The air is filled with the aromas of sweat, urine and gruel that follow large armies wherever they go.  

They are all still in their chairs, forks in hand.   Eddings looks around slowly.  "I, uh, don't suppose this is something you have done on purpose?" he whispers.

None of them move.  Fortunately they have appeared in a small pocket of empty space, out of the direct light of any fires, and a good 40 feet from the nearest tent.  But they are clearly in the midst of the camp, and not at its edge, and there are several patrols of soldiers with torches.  One of these is moving in their general direction.  Kibi and Grey Wolf are unarmed, and have none of their magical items.  But both of the wizards wear their component pouches as a matter of course, and their heads are full of spells that have gone unused for the last few days.

They have a quick, whispered debate about what to do.  If they cast spells, they’ll be heard.  If the try to sneak away, they’ll probably be spotted.  If they stay where they are, they’ll be found by the roving guards in under 30 seconds.  Skorg whispers, "oh god, we’re going to die, we’re going to die, we’re going to…" but he is shut up by the others.  Finally they decide they have to risk spells if they are going to escape.  Kibi and Grey Wolf start casting spells – _haste, fly and invisibility_.  Nearby guards immediately hear the sounds of spell-casting, and move quickly to investigate, barking in an unfamiliar tongue.   Just as they get close enough to see those of the four who _aren’t_ yet invisible, Kibi and Grey Wolf fly straight up.  Eddings is clinging to Kibi’s back, while Skorg clutches Grey Wolf.  The guards shout, point upward, and that section of the camp erupts with activity.  Arrows whistle upwards, but none of them find their mark, and soon they aren’t making up as high as the flying wizards.  Eddings is taking all of this in stride, but Skorg is terrified, squirming and clutching at Grey Wolf in an effort not to fall.  "I’m scared of heights!" he whimpers.  "Then don’t look down," Grey Wolf advises.   Of course, Skorg instinctively looks down and becomes even more terrified.  Kibi thinks that it’s a good thing it’s not _him_ carrying Skorg, or there would likely be a "terrible accident" involving a plummeting orc.  

As they hang there in the air, pondering what to do next, three _ magic missiles_ come streaking out of the night sky below them and strike true… upon Eddings!  (Kibi is _invisible_, but Eddings is not.)  Eddings lets out a groan of pain, and they realize that a flying wizard must be pursuing them.  They fly away at top speed; Kibi, _hasted,_ tries to cast _fly_ on Eddings as well, but it proves too hard for him to cast with someone holding on to him for dear life.   Another set of _magic missiles_ shoots out of the darkness, again striking Eddings.  The butler goes unconscious, and Kibi just manages to grab hold of him before he falls down into the army camp.  Grey Wolf finally spots their attacker, tells Skorg to hold on, and manages to Concentrate well enough to launch a _lightning bolt_ at the enemy mage.  The stroke of electricity strikes true, and its target falls out of the sky, trailing a line of smoke. 

"We’ve got to get heal Eddings!" Kibi cries.  "Or he’s going to die!"

And then the army disappears, and it’s late morning, and they are flying out over the bay above Tal Hae.  The buzzing in Grey Wolf’s gut is replaced by the more familiar churning.  They fly down to the nearest dock, and Grey Wolf manages to stop Eddings’ bleeding before the butler dies.   The _magic missiles_ have left horrible open wounds upon his skin, and his breathing is still shallow, his face pale.  They fly him slowly over the city to the temple of Yondalla, where the clerics there tend to his wounds.  Soon he walking out under his own power, and the four of them go back to the Greenhouse, which is now out four very nice dining room chairs.

…to be continued…


----------



## Sagiro

Here's the rest from our most recent session!  Our next game is this coming Sunday.


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 138b*_

Back in the Moonspell, the party has just heard that all is quiet at the Greenhouse, so Morningstar goes to sleep.  Aravis decides to try using the Crosser’s Maze again, to observe the city of Kallor from an "outside perspective."  His mind slides easily back into the Maze, and he spends a few seconds observing the two Primes:  Abernia, on which they dwell, and Volpos, on which Naradawk’s army waits for the merging.  Energies are flying fast and furious between the two, though the center of these is not precisely at Kallor.  Through some hard calculations and intense concentration, Aravis is able to swivel his viewpoints around and then zoom it in toward Abernia, zeroing in on the city of Kallor.  It becomes more and more difficult as his perspective gets closer, but he is able to bring his point of observation to a point high above the city walls.   Although there is nothing explicitly strange-looking about any of the city, he finds that one general section of the city is difficult to look at through the Maze.   Uncomfortable to look at.  It’s the northern section of the city – around the Silent Quarter.   Aravis tries to focus closer, but his mind tires, and he loses his grip on the Maze.  His consciousness returns to his body, and he tells the others what he has seen.

Some of the Company then decide that they really want to know what a Divination Sink is, and badly.  There are two repositories of knowledge in Charagan that stand above all others in scope:  The Vault in Hae Charagan, capital of the Kingdom, and the Sages’ Consortium in Hae Kalkas.  Aravis has never been to Hae Charagan, but the party was in Hae Kalkas fairly recently, so that’s where Aravis decides to _teleport._  But since the only place with which he really became familiar was his room in the inn where they stayed, that’s where he decides to go, taking Dranko and Ernie along.  Fortunately, the room is empty (it being late morning), though made up for new guests.  Not wanting to be discovered, Aravis looks out the window and _dimension doors_ the three of them to a discreet alleyway across the street.  From there they walk quickly to the Sages’ Consortium.

The Consortium is running with a dearth of personnel; many of the sages have gone to help the war effort on the peninsula, as advisors, healers and scribes.  But their old friend Richter is there, looking cheerful and busy.  "Ah, friends!" he says.  "Come back for more questions about the flora of our fine kingdom?"  There is little sign of the insanity that the party unwittingly brought on him, by asking him too many questions about the Sharshun and other Masked topics.  Ernie and Dranko greet him warmly.  

The sage who is most expert in Divination magic is not there, and much to Dranko’s dismay, the Consortium clerk refuses to give out his name.  So Dranko says, "I’ve got a letter from the King’s Advisor that this is a matter of kingdom security.  I didn’t think we’d need it, but it’s back in my inn room."  And he leaves.  In the meantime, Aravis and Ernie meet with another sage named Farning, but he has little of value to offer.  A few minutes later Dranko comes back, bearing a letter, cleverly forged (and using his magical _Forgery Kit_ found in Zhamir), from Yale, advisor to King Crunard IV. The clerk looks at it suspiciously, but there’s the royal seal and everything.  So he gives them the name of the Divination expert: Elijah Sand.  Soon thereafter they _teleport_ back to Kallor, and Dranko quickly composes a note of apology, to send to Yale as a "preemptive strike" should she discover the forgery on her own.

When Morningstar wakes up later in the afternoon, she has indistinct memories of a dream.  All she remembers is that, in the dream, she had a feeling of urgency, that she should go to Amber’s Illuminated Temple in Tal Hae in Ava Dormo, the night after the following day.   Curious, she goes into trance right then, and dreams her way directly to Tal Hae and the Illuminated Temple.  There, on the plains of Ava Dormo outside the temple, is June, one of Morningstar’s protégés.  June has always been hot-tempered and eager, but her energies have been well-directed by Previa into training the growing dream-army.   Here in Tal Hae, she has over fifty Ellish priestesses doing combat training exercises.  And though Ava Dormo is not typically a brightly-lit place (not as dark as Kallor, mind – more like a cloudy day near sunset), there are light sources shining all around the perimeter of the training field.   The fifty soldiers are showing few signs of discomfort in the bright lights.  

June sees Morningstar watching and runs over.   She is eager to impress Morningstar with her troops’ progress, and orders them into a snappy succession of drills and maneuvers.   The soldiers themselves are clearly impressed that Morningstar herself has come for an inspection, and do their best to demonstrate their prowess.  It all embarrasses Morningstar; they clearly think of her like a General, but she herself feels more like a mascot.   But while June does make a good impression, she has no ideas or information about Morningstar’s recent dream.  

Morningstar returns to her body in Kallor, and then goes into Ava Dormo locally, hoping to see some sign of the Black Circle there.  (In Hae Charagan, Mokad’s base of operations was shielded in Dream by a strong magical ward, visible as an opaque black shroud.)  But here, except for the Temple of Ell itself,  the Ava Dormo version is still empty, having been wiped clean of buildings (along with the rest of the Dreaming) some months back.  And there is no sign of the Black Circle where any part of the city would have been, including the Silent Quarter.

The party has another meeting to discuss their next move.  They decide that some personal investigation of the Silent Quarter is in order, so they march over to the constabulary to get the go-ahead from Cobb.  He agrees to write them a letter giving them the authority to armed into the Silent Quarter, on official business of city security.    But while some of the party goes in under those pretenses, showing the note to the guards at the gate into the walled Quarter, others follow after in peasant garb.  They have learned from Cobb that there is a tavern near to the gate called the The Quiet Man pub, where the servant-types generally gather in the evenings before curfew.   Kay, Dranko, Ernie go to the crowded Quiet Man posing as servants themselves, and strike up as many conversations as they can, hoping to learn about anything unusual going on in that part of the city.  They try to steer the conversation toward any recent influxes of "new money," nobles or merchants, who have come into the city recently.   Ernie talks to the cook, figuring she’ll have her finger on the pulse of the area, but instead she shanghais the halfling into a long discussion on cookery, culminating in an offer of employment.  Dranko and Kay have more luck, and Aravis, hanging around outside, listens in via a _Rary’s telepathic bond_ cast by Morningstar on him and Dranko.   Dranko asks particularly about any newcomers with an unusual number of scars, and while he doesn’t get any affirmatives, Kay gets some information about a newcomer who "must have been an old campaigner, the way he looked."  Aravis puts the pieces together, as possible evidence of a Scarbearer recently arrived.

The party members in the tavern decide to leave; Dranko in particular wants to do some more scouting in the neighborhood.  Flicker watches as they depart, and a minute later sees another man, a local servant-type, walk out and look in the direction the party was headed.   Then the stranger follows in that direction, and so Flicker follows _him_.  The man tails the party for a few short blocks before stopping at the door to another local tavern – "The Storied Hall."  (This one is quite posh, though closed for the evening.)  He quickly unlocks (or picks open?) the door, and slips inside.  Flicker runs forward to warn Morningstar and the others, and then runs back to hide in the shadows and wait for the man.  A few minutes later the man emerges, and heads nonchalantly back toward Flicker’s hiding place.  But before Flicker has a chance to do anything, he sees the rest of the party (down at the end of the street) suddenly break into a run, away from him!

Dranko has been prowling the rooftops of the Silent Quarter, heading generally northward.  He is occasionally communicating via the _telepathic bond_, when suddenly it shuts off completely!   Startled, he waits for a moment, and then takes a few steps back.   The link reestablishes itself.  Dranko reports what just happened.  "I think I found the Divination Sink," he says.  He does some more experimenting, stepping back and forth across some invisible line, and slowly sidling along the roof, testing the boundary where the _telepathic bond_ becomes disabled.   He goes far enough to realize that the curve is quite wide, but not enough to determine the full extent, when he feels a sudden sensation of dread.  Alarmed, he descends from the rooftop, preparing to return to the others – and that’s when four Null Shadows attack.

He calls for his non-magical mace from his magical bag at his belt, and it leaps into his hand.  He takes some wild swings as the black creatures swarm him, landing stinging blows that leave burning black smudges on his face.  It is not long before he realizes that the creatures will overpower him, so he runs as fast as he can, thinking loudly for help over the _telepathic bond_.  As they did when Morningstar was attacked, the party regroups and moves to intercept.  This time they are better prepared, and knowing not to waste time with magic, they quickly dispatch the four black monsters.   

Flicker catches up to the combat in time for its tail end, and then informs them about the trailing servant and the Storied Hall.   There is a brief interlude wherein the party investigates, thinking the tavern might be a Black Circle base of operations.  But some _thought captures_ reveal that the man is just a petty criminal, interested in the party only because they sure were asking a lot of strange questions, and interested in the Storied Hall because he often filches coppers from the money box there.

Not wanting to split up again now that they know Null Shadows are on the prowl in the area, the Company goes as a group deeper into the Silent Quarter, toward where Dranko discovered the boundary that cut off the _telepathic bond._  They move slowly along, with Dranko moving back and forth, and they eventually get enough of the curve established to realize that this boundary must be extremely large – maybe a quarter mile in diameter.  They are in a park, away from any buildings, when the Null Shadows emerge from the shadows of the trees around them.  All of the party is filled with an ill-feeling of dismay, but to Aravis it is nearly sickening, a mixture of fear and disgust that rolls off of the creatures in vile waves of evil magic.  

There are many more of them than they’ve encountered thus far; over a dozen, though it’s hard to count them in the twilight.   Worse, they are a deeper shade of black than those previously fought, and slightly larger.  Everyone draws non-magical weapons.  The creatures move in, and launch a vicious attack.  Aravis immediately accesses the Maze hoping to learn something to help them fight these monsters.  But the Null Shadows go straight for Aravis, pummeling him, delivering gruesome damage, and breaking his concentration, knocking him from the Maze.  Worse, he feels that one of his most potent prepared spells – a _stoneskin_ – has been stripped from his mind by the horrid touch of his attackers.  Pewter launches himself at one of the creatures, hoping to damage it with his claws, but being an inherently magical creature he passes right through it, and takes burning damage just by coming in contact with the black vaporous body.  There follows some furious melee fighting, with Flicker looking for opportunities with his sling.   Aravis casts _rope trick_ and tries to climb up to safety, but his hands, sweaty with fear, slip off the ropes, and many of the Null Shadows pounce.  Aravis is left covered with black smears, nearly unconscious.  One more round of attacks will surely finish him.  He commands Pewter to flee while he can into the _rope trick._

The others continue to batter at the monsters, but they are also taking a beating.  All of the spell-casting members of the party feel spells being forced from their heads when the creatures strike them.  Aravis realizes that he has no choice left; he takes from his pocket a small jeweled pin shaped like a sheaf of wheat, given to him by the Spire in case of this sort of emergency.  The Crosser’s Maze is too valuable to risk; Aravis breaks the pin, activating the _refuge_ spell.  He vanishes, taken straight to the temple of Pikon in Tal Hae.  He calls for clerics, and soon is getting healed up.  But he is out of _teleports_, and cannot return to help his comrades.

Back in Kallor, the battle is tense, and seems like it could go either way.  The Null Shadows focus their attacks on spell-casters when possible – Ernie is nearly killed, but Flicker is essentially ignored.  But finally the Company turns the corner and finishes off the last few Null Shadows, without suffering any casualties.  They are covered with black wounds.  A minute later a voice sounds from a few yards away:  "Halt!  Declare yourselves, and put down your weapons!"

Soon the party realizes that there are six guardsmen around them, brandishing weapons.  They are not dressed in the uniforms of city guardsmen, but are more likely the personal guardsmen of a wealthy nobleman or merchant of the Silent Quarter.  The guards demand to know why the party is making such a racket, and heavily armed, and out after curfew.  Morningstar explains that they were attacked, but the guard is nasty and rude, showing no sympathy.  He continues to demand that the party drop their weapons.  Which they don’t.  Eventually the standoff is broken when they show him their letter from Captain Cobb.  The guard looks it over, and unhappily concedes that he shouldn’t arrest them on the spot.   But he vows to go straight to Cobb, clearly expecting to learn that the party isn’t legit.  If he catches them after that, he’ll be less merciful next time.  As he leaves, Morningstar casts _detect thoughts_, suspecting that this guard might be a Black Circle agent.  He’s not.  He’s just a puffed-up, obnoxious guard of a wealthy household, who likes being a bully.  He’s also thinking to himself, "what a bunch of liars!  They claim they were just in a fight, but then where are the bodies of their attackers?"

Morningstar is thinking to herself:  "Jerk."

She casts _sendings_ back to the Temple of Ell, tersely explaining what happened, and requesting an escort to bring them back from the Silent Quarter.  They wait huddled in Aravis’ _rope trick._  Pewter meows pitifully, and when Kay casts _speak with animals_," the cat is beside himself with worry over Aravis.  Eventually a group of twenty-four Ellish soldiers comes into the park; the Company descends from the pocket dimension and follows the group out of the Silent Quarter and back to the temple.   And now they have the best information so far; given the curve of the boundary that was cutting off the _telepathic bond_, they can make a pretty good guess as to where its center lies…

…to be continued…


----------



## Zaruthustran

*Awesome*

Oh good grief. This story is almost TOO good.


----------



## Kosh

To start:  Excellent Story Hour!...  I absolutely love it!...

Now, onto business...

Did you create the Null Shadows?...  They were a real surprise...  I'd love to use them in my game, and tell fellow DMs (evil or not) about them...  Are the stats available to the public?...

I understand that you probably don't want to give anything away to your players, so I wouldn't ask you to post them here...  But if you could e-mail them or post them elsewhere (this would require a pinky swear by your players to not view the page)...

If this is too much bother, I'll accept that and write them up myself with just the idea in mind...  Though I've never been good at writing monster stats...  So yeah, if it's not too much trouble, I would really appriciate it...

Again:  Great game!...


----------



## Tuerny

bah, thats no fair.
My PCs are nowhere near where they will be powerful enough to fight a Null Shadow.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Tuerny said:
			
		

> *bah, thats no fair.
> My PCs are nowhere near where they will be powerful enough to fight a Null Shadow.  *




Actually, Null Shadow's would make a very interesting enemy to follow a group of adventurers through a campaign.  One or two of them would make a nice challenge for a low level group.  And they have features that will cause them to be trouble for groups up to the level of the Company and higher.

Think about this.  Their attacks are always touch attacks.  When you are low level, this isn't a big deal, as your AC isn't great to start with.  But as you get buff and armored, this becomes a great way to make players feel very vulnerable.

They don't have lots of hit pionts, and their ac isn't high.  They can be hit and damaged by low level groups with normal weapons.  But as your party gets higher level, Null Shadows would be a refreshing way to remind them that _Fireball_ doesn't solve everything.

I like them (from a design standpoint.  As a player I loathe and despise them.).  They're a great recurring enemy.  Vary the number encountered, and the type and you've got a challenge every time.


----------



## Sagiro

Yikes!  Since the interest is so high, I decided it would be easier to just post a web-page with the stats.

You players of mine who are here: please do not look at this page.  I trust you.  

Here's the link to the Null Shadows.

Enjoy!

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Yikes!  Since the interest is so high, I decided it would be easier to just post a web-page with the stats.
> 
> You players of mine who are here: please do not look at this page.  I trust you.
> 
> Here's the link to the Null Shadows.*




Must - not - check - page.  Must - resist - temptation.


----------



## Sito Rotavele

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Must - not - check - page.  Must - resist - temptation. *





Wow.  +18 to hit any worshipper of Yondalla. I guess that makes sense though, what with them not being able to cross through a circle made of baking powder and all...  Doh!  Did I say that out loud?


----------



## Axeboy

*A question*



			
				Sito Rotavele said:
			
		

> *
> 
> 
> Wow.  +18 to hit any worshipper of Yondalla. I guess that makes sense though, what with them not being able to cross through a circle made of baking powder and all...  Doh!  Did I say that out loud? *




    Lol!   
Thanks, Sito; that's some good humor!!!

A question, though:  I knew KidC and Piratecat were in the game, but I didn't realize KidC was playing Ernie.  Is this right?  I thought she was playing the General (Kay?  Man, my mind is going; can't remember the names of the characters in one of my favorite story hours!)  Could we get an update on who's playing whom (if they post on the boards--don't want to mess with anyone's privacy or anything...)  Maybe this would help those of us that are going senile ([old man voice] and it'll happen to you, too! [\old man voice])


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sure:  

Dranko - Played by PirateCat
Ernie - Played by me.
Aravis - Played by a guy who occasionally posts as "Aravis"
Kay, Greywolf, Morningstar, Kibbe - Played by non-posters
Step, Flicker and a cast of thousands - Played by Sagiro.
Mrs. Isabel Horn - Played by Sialia
Tor Bladebearer - Played by "Tor Bladebearer"  

Does that help?  

The really scary part about PC and I is how often we slip into character as Ernie and Dranko when we're not gaming.  They are very comfortable people to be, although I do find it a challenge to be as cheery and nice as Ernie.  I have to bite my tongue a lot at Sagiro's game table.


----------



## Little_Buddha

hobbes said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Also, if you had to assign a DC to one of these bad boys, do you know where it might fall? *




DC is difficultly class, used to establish how difficult a save or skill check is. You're probably after the challenge rating of the creature. That's more "feel" than calculation, though. There was that Dragon magazine article (#276?) that laid out some guidelines, but there's no hard-and-fast rules.

The CR "guesstimator" in Dragon #282 has them coming out at around CR4 (!) because it doesn't much allow for special abilities ("add one or two to its effective hitdice for each special ability" doesn't really cover abilities that should be worth five or six effective hitdice).

To be honest, because of the way D&D works the Null Shadows don't really work into a CR. Their abilities present an immense challenge to high-level parties (with their heavy reliance on spellcasting and magic). Low-level parties (with non-magical weapons and one _sleep_ spell ) should find them on par with most of their opponents, since they manage to circumvent most of the monster's abilities simply by being crap!

[Edit: For example, my current party (all 3rd level) would vastly prefer fighting Null Shadows to fighting Ghouls. I suspect the Defenders would differ. ]


----------



## kaboom

Sagiro, would you put the stats for a bugmonkey on your website?


----------



## Micah5

Into the arena float the *Null Shadows*. Our current champions of horror and fear. Ready yet again to annihilate any contenders.

From the challenger's corner; the epitome of springtime happiness and fluffy thoughts, it's the Pink Bunny and the Yellow Chick. Ladies and Gents, we present the *Peeps*!

_Does anyone else forsee this ending in one black sticky mess of goo?_ 

Tis the Season,
Cheers Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

Micah5 said:
			
		

> *Ladies and Gents, we present the Peeps!
> 
> *




Oh please, don't start the peep thing again!  I beg you, not the peeps.


----------



## Tony Vargas

The stats of the Null Shadows were interesting, but I have to wonder about the 'why' of them.  Why are seemingly incorporeal shadow-creatures vulnerable to normal weapons, but immune to magical ones?  I mean, there must be some reasoning beyond 'stick it to the PC party that's all spell-casters.' 

BTW, if they had even one pure warrior type in thier ranks, they wouldn't find the Null Shadows wouldn't be nearly so fearsome.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> *BTW, if they had even one pure warrior type in thier ranks, they wouldn't find the Null Shadows wouldn't be nearly so fearsome. *




Ah, but you see, battle with the Null Shadows isn't about just hunkering down and doing damage.  They collectively attack the highest magic source in the party.  Many parties are good at laying down the smack.  The problem is protecting one single member when all attacks are focused on that person.  Especially as that person will be the low HP mage.  

They have great potential to kill a PC because of this. We, who cannot afford to lose our mages (Maze and Stomach), are compromised in our ability to work because of this.  One third of our fighting power isn't hitting, they are pouring healing into the mage.  More fighters aren't going to help with that.


----------



## Tony Vargas

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *
> Ah, but you see, battle with the Null Shadows isn't about just hunkering down and doing damage.  They collectively attack the highest magic source in the party.  The problem is protecting one single member when all attacks are focused on that person.  Especially as that person will be the low HP mage.
> *




I'd look into how 'highest magic source' is defined...    Predictable enemies can be more easily set up for AoOs, for instance.  Defending the mage is often a problem, regardless of the attackers.  The Null Shadows don't seem that tough, individually, and attack in numbers.  A great cleaving barbarian or whirlwinding fighter could clean up a dozen or so pretty quickly and a reach-oriented fighter with combat reflexes could protect the target of thier attacks pretty effectively.  

A really frightening potential of Null Shadows, though, is as forward troops for mages.  Imagine an enemy raining fireballs down on your party while Null Shadows keep you busy...


----------



## Atticus_of_Amber

*Rule #1 Violation!*



			
				Tony Vargas said:
			
		

> *
> 
> <snip>
> 
> A really frightening potential of Null Shadows, though, is as forward troops for mages.  Imagine an enemy raining fireballs down on your party while Null Shadows keep you busy... *




A clear violation of Rule #1 - never give the DM nasty ideas.


----------



## RangerWickett

Well, to make up for the evil DM idea, may I ask why the spellcasters don't all just have levitate spells handy?  Null shadows can't fly, can they?


----------



## Sagiro

kaboom said:
			
		

> *Sagiro, would you put the stats for a bugmonkey on your website? *




I'm sorry, *kaboom*, but I can't find them.  When I get some free time, though, I'll re-create them in nice 3E stat-block format and repost. 

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

Micah5 said:
			
		

> *Into the arena float the Null Shadows. Our current champions of horror and fear. Ready yet again to annihilate any contenders.
> 
> From the challenger's corner; the epitome of springtime happiness and fluffy thoughts, it's the Pink Bunny and the Yellow Chick. Ladies and Gents, we present the Peeps!
> 
> Does anyone else forsee this ending in one black sticky mess of goo?
> 
> Tis the Season,
> Cheers Sagiro *





Micah5, you seem to be under a slight misconception.  It's the _Peeps_ that are the current champions of horror and fear.

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> *...Null shadows can't fly, can they? *




Who knows?  In fighting the Company thus far, they haven't had to.  

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

...and here's the first part of the next installment of the Story Hour.  Sorry I don't have more written -- I was planning on getting it done tonight, but instead I spent 2 hours getting thrashed by my fiancee (Kibi's player) in a game of the Settlers of Catan card game.  

More story hour (involving stealth, followed by a mighty racket, followed by Xorns) should be coming along soon, but as always I make no promises as to exactly when.  

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 139a*_

After the Company has been escorted back to the Temple of Ell, Morningstar sends word that she wishes to brief High Priestess Rhiannon on their recent discoveries.   This time, though, the High Priestess is indisposed, and sends a trusted advisor to speak and act on her behalf.  That’s not much comfort to the party, since Stersa, recently revealed traitor, was _also_ a "trusted advisor," and look how that turned out.   But the priestess, named Corshani, understands their reservations, and amiably agrees to a battery of magical tests.   They go outside to the street (since Morningstar, as an Illuminated Sister, is not allowed to cast divine spells inside Ellish temples), and she starts with a _detect magic_, to make sure Corshani isn’t wearing anything magical that could mask her alignment or motives.  (In fact, Corshani herself suggested this.)  Then she casts _detect evil_, and Step follows up with a _gaze of truth._  (This last spell confirms that Corshani is not currently _charmed_ or under other enchantment.)   Finally, Morningstar casts a _memory read_, looking for the memory of when Corshani first came in contact with the Black Circle or their agents.  As hoped, the spell reveals no such memory.  When Corshani has checked out, they all go back into the Temple, to a private meeting room, where Morningstar fills her in.   Corshani also sends for healing for Morningstar, still not fully recovered from the attack by the Null Shadows. An older priestess comes in with healing potions, and also casts a curing spell that eases Morningstar’s hurts.

Part way through this meeting, Captain Cobb arrives as scheduled and joins the meeting.  He agrees to set a discreet watch around the section of the Silent Quarter that the party believes to be at the center of the Divination Sink.  More guards will be sent to patrol the wider area, watching especially for any signs that the Black Circle is packing up and moving their operation.  Lastly, he promises to send someone to check the records at the town hall, to find out who owns the large estates in the northern end of the Silent Quarter, and if there are any unusual recent changes of ownership.

Lastly, Morningstar casts a _sending_ to Aravis: *We’re fine.  Will investigate more after resting.  Staying night at Temple.  Pewter is fine.  Step caring for him.*

Aravis, having debriefed with the ranking priest at the Temple of Pikon in Tal Hae, goes back to the Greenhouse.  Kibi and Grey Wolf are, of course, both surprised and alarmed to see him.  He begs out of eating the leftover black lizard pie pressed on him by Skorg, and then decides it’s time for another look at the Crosser’s Maze.  His thought slides back into the expanse of the multiverse, and he brings his point of focus closer in toward the two merging Primes.  He is able to get a closer view than he has before, and in doing so notices something extremely alarming.  There has been a clear increase in the rate at which the planes are accelerating toward congruence!  He spends the necessary time for a thorough examination, establishing that at very least the second derivative of the velocity is a constant.   But given the change… uh oh!

He slides out of the Maze, exhausted, and starts to mutter: "cellar… cellar…"  Kibi and Grey Wolf think that something terrible must be happening in the basement, until Aravis follows with: "accelerating… the primes are accelerating."  Ah.  When Aravis becomes coherent, he shares his bad news with the others, and then stumbles off to bed.  As he’s falling asleep, his head pounding, Morningstar’s _sending_ arrives.  He replies: *Planes aligning sooner than thought.  Two to three days!  Will teleport Wolf and Kibi tomorrow to Moonspell.  Tell Pewter I’m fine too.*

Back in Kallor, Corshani arranges for rooms for the whole party under the temple roof, since the temple is a safer haven than the Moonspell.  They sleep.

…to be continued…


----------



## coyote6

Now that's a message! "End of world rescheduled for day after tomorrow. Something should probably be done. Please advise."

PC, KC, et al. -- what did y'all do when you got that little missive?


----------



## Fade

Oh dear.


----------



## KidCthulhu

coyote6 said:
			
		

> *Now that's a message! "End of world rescheduled for day after tomorrow. Something should probably be done. Please advise."
> 
> PC, KC, et al. -- what did y'all do when you got that little missive? *




Ernie said "oh dear."

I said something that would offend Eric's Grandmother.


----------



## RangerWickett

Y'know, I haven't actually even looked at the stats yet, but I'd say that if Null Shadows don't already do damage based on the number of spells and magic items active on you, they should.  *malicious smile*

Sagiro, I think it's time for you to post a reminder of everything that has happened so far, so we'll know exactly what's going on with everyone in this planar convergence.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 139c*_

Dranko shows the letter to several passers-by with no luck, but that changes when he re-visits the Quiet Man Pub.  A garrulous local remembers the scarred man – "an old campaigner, by all accounts.  Not seen ‘im m’self, but he’s stayin’ with Master Cosnor up on Pearl Street.  No, don’t know the address, but it’s th’ ‘ouse with the two big lions out front.  Can’t miss it."

Morningstar has been listening in via _Rary’s telepathic bond_, and they all meet up outside before heading northward into the heart of the Silent Quarter.  As expected, the _telepathic bond_ soon cuts out, blocked (presumably) by the Divination Sink.   A city guardsman passes them en route, but he has been warned of the party’s business by Cobb, and so stops to ask if there’s anything he can do to help.  When they tell him they’re on their way to visit a Master Cosnor, the guard says, "Oh, Lord Cosnor!  Nice old chap.  Don’t see him much, but he always has a kind word if I pass him in the street."

Before they reach the "house with the lions out front," the party casts a number of spells, including _invisibility_ on Dranko and (most importantly) Grey Wolf.  Someone points out that the Divination Sink may help them here, since spells that would detect invisible things are presumably being universally blocked.   Then Dranko heads down the street, looking for the house.  

All of the houses have large iron fences around them, with outward-curving spiky tops that make it very difficult to scale them.  Furthermore, the fencing is continuous for several blocks, effectively blocking access to number of sprawling estates.  Dranko tries climbing the fence in front of Cosnor’s house, but can’t quite get over the spikes.   Meanwhile, down the street, a household guard has come from a nearby mansion and demanded to know what the party is doing, loitering in front of his master’s house, and fully armed.  They apologize for the intrusion (even though they’re on the street), and move a block or so away to avoid a fuss.

Dranko comes back to the group to request a _fly_ spell, and Kibi obliges.   Flying and invisible, Dranko soars over the fence and above the grounds of the wealthy denizens of the Silent Quarter.  The area is a tangle of stone walls, little fenced-in well-tended gardens, courtyards, trees, narrow lanes, and of course the mansions themselves, which are mostly one-story but large and sprawling.  It's hard to tell where one property begins and another one ends.

He flies back and forth over the estates, spotting many gardeners and patrolling guardsmen, but nothing out of the ordinary – unless you count plants that can grow and thrive in the never-ending twilight of Kallor.  But on a third sweep, something catches his eye.  It is a quick flash of blue light, gone almost before he is aware of it.  When he looks back to where he thought he saw it, it is gone.  Nevertheless, he flies slowly down, toward a tiny walled garden adjacent to a large house.   There is a door opening out of the house into the enclosure, but the space is empty, save for (of all things) a stone sundial set upon a three-foot-high stone pillar.   He drifts lower, and while the presence of a sundial in a city of twilight is unusual, what’s more unusual is the faint blue glow coming from beneath the pedestal.

Lowering himself so that his nose almost touches the ground, Dranko sees that while most of the ground in the enclosure is grass or flagstones, the pedestal is sitting atop (and covering) a disc of glowing blue glass.  A faint blue light emanates from beneath, around the edges of the pedestal.   This, he realizes, could be the source of the Divination Sink!  Rather than immediately getting into trouble, Dranko flies back to the others to report what he has found.  They briefly talk it over, and decide that what they really want to do is smash that disc.  The plan they form is that Kibi will use a _scroll of invisibility_ on Ernie, and then Dranko will fly Ernie over to the garden, where he’ll call upon the _Strength of Yondalla_ before pushing over the sundial and its pillar and smashing the glass disc.  Ernie is also wearing a magic ring that casts _dimension door_ in case he needs to make a speedy exit.  Grey Wolf, also flying and invisible, hovers high over the area, watching for trouble.

It goes just as planned – up to a point.  A few minutes later Dranko and Ernie are standing invisibly together in the garden.  Ernie has imbued himself with great strength, and together they push over the pedestal. It tips, and the stone sundial slides off, smashing onto the flagstones beneath with a tremendous crash and breaking in two.  The glass looks solid, and the blue glow does not increase nor decrease.  Ernie hefts one of the two broken pieces, and with great effort brings it down hard upon the blue glass disc.  There is a dull "clank," a small piece of the stone breaks off, and a fragment of glass chips away.  Ernie looks disappointed.  Dranko hands him his mace, and Ernie starts whaling away at the glass.  Each swing chips another small piece of the glass with a loud "whang!" but the progress is disappointingly slow.  Looking closely, Ernie can see fine cracks going downward, and he realizes that it’s not just a thin disc sitting on the surface – it goes down at least a good six to eight inches.

That’s when an old gardener comes tottering out to see what all the racket is.  

The servant, a stooped old man, sees that the sundial and its pedestal have been pushed over and smashed.  He also sees a mace, wielding itself, pounding away at a blue glowing disc set in the ground.  

"Eeee.  Aaah.  Aaaaaaah.  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"  The gardener goes scurrying back into the house.  

Ernie has managed to create a divot in the glass about the size of an orange, but the disc is thicker than that.  Dranko produces a chisel, and wedges it into to one of the glass seams, and the next swing of Ernie’s mace drives a large chunk of glass out of the ground.  More cracks appear, some of them going down.  The disc flares again, and when it’s filled with blue light, Ernie now sees that the disc is really more of a cylinder, and it goes down at least another foot or more.  Arg!  After another two swings the chisel shatters.  Dranko replaces it with a crowbar.  Since the _Strength of Yondalla_ has run out, Ernie activates the _bull’s strength_ inherent in his magical armor.  As he does so, a loud raspberry noise comes out of the breastplate.  Dranko, who had made the armor for Ernie himself, had added a small enchantment so that pulling the little finger of the left gauntlet would make that sound.  But the _bull’s strength_ function shouldn’t have emitted any sort of flatulent noise.  They chalk it up to the effects of the glowing glass, and Ernie keeps swinging. 

Whang!  Whang!  Whang!

The servant returns with two armed guards, who are less easily phased.

"Whoever you are, or whatever you are," one of them says, "stop swinging that weapon, drop it at once, and explain your presence here!"  

Ernie does neither.  But when the guards step out into the garden, Dranko (still invisible) booms out:  "I am a servant of the most holy and blessed Church of Ell, and we do her bidding!   We are destroying an Unholy Abomination of Evil, in the name of the Goddess!  Stand back and let us do our work!"

Whang!

The guards look at each other.  One says, "Look, I don’t know what this is all about, but this is private property.  We’re going to have to fetch the Master."

"Good!" says Dranko.  "He should explain what this foul relic is doing on his grounds."

Whang!

Ernie continues to chip away at the disc, but it’s slow going.  The glass is solid straight through, and each swing is only chipping away small pieces.  The crowbar is a bit too unwieldy for this sort of work.  Eventually the guards return, along with a tall man with a black beard.

"I am the master of this house," he says from behind his guards, "and whoever you are, you are trespassing on my property.  I demand that you leave at once."

Whang!

Dranko repeats his shtick.  "I am a holy servant of Ell, sent to destroy this evil artifact buried on your land.   Hinder us at your own peril.. we do the Goddess’ work!"

"If you are, then why have you come here in secret.  Why was I not informed?  And what is that glowing thing in my garden?"

"Don’t you know?" booms Dranko.

"No!  I’ve never seen that before in my life!"

Whang!

"Then why were you hiding it beneath your sundial?" Dranko demands.  "And why do you even have a sundial in this place?"

He’s stalling, big-time, giving Ernie has much time as he can.  The master of the house splutters.

"That glowing thing wasn’t there when I put this sundial here… and it was a gift!  Not that it is any business of yours.  I think you are a petty criminal up to some mischief, and are making up some crazy story now that you’ve been caught.  Guards, if there is still any sign of them five seconds from now, I want you to take care of them."

"Yes, sir.  But… you know… they’re invisible."

"Just swing your swords around!  You’re bound to hit them eventually!  And you!" he says to the gardener, "go fetch more of my guards."

There is some commotion as the guards push their way into the garden and start flailing around with their swords.  A minute later more come out, and two of them even manage to score light hits on Dranko...

..to be continued...


----------



## KidCthulhu

The most fun thing about this little interlude was counting six seconds quietly to myself, and then yelling "WHANG" all through Dranko's attempt to bluff the servant, noble and guards.

It was one of those things that started funny, got annoying, and then became funny again.

WHANG!

Although PC points out that Ernie has 2 attacks per round, and so it should have been "Whang, Whang".  Rules lawyer.


----------



## Nail

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 139c
> 
> "..........Guards, if there is still any sign of them five seconds from now, I want you to take care of them."
> 
> "Yes, sir.  But… you know… they’re invisible."
> 
> "Just swing your swords around!  You’re bound to hit them eventually!  And you!" he says to the gardener, "go fetch more of my guards."
> *




Ach...., this is good stuff!  You can tell a good campaign by how prominantly they portray it's gardeners...and bakers!

Can the party tell if the buried blue glass column is in the center of the divination sink area?  After all, how else can they possibly determine if it is the source of the dampening magic?  A commune spell outside the area?

Another thought occured to me: Surely, in a world with magic, rich people would have quite a bit of it protecting their houses, and quite a bit of that magic would be divination magic, right?  So...why didn't they notice (and then report it) when the divination sink went up?  It's either a flaw or a clue........ an' given it's Sagiro's campaign, it's gotta be the latter......

-Nail


----------



## KidCthulhu

Nail said:
			
		

> *
> Can the party tell if the buried blue glass column is in the center of the divination sink area?  *




"And if I take the blue pill"

"Then you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes"

The (*&*%* rabbit hole goes really firking deep.  Grumble. 

See next update.


----------



## Sagiro

Note: Piratecat and Kibi's player pointed out small errors in my order of events.  I've made some changes to the very end of my last update; you might want to go back and take the 5 seconds to re-read the last paragraph, so it makes more sense...

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 139d*_

Grey Wolf has been flying invisibly and watching the proceedings.  Although he cannot see Dranko or Ernie, he can tell that one of the guards has just hit _something_ with his sword.  He uses the _mirror of whispers_ to communicate the state of affairs to the others.  There is much shaking of heads.  Kibi casts _fly_ and _invisibility_ on himself and flies over to the garden himself, intending to cast his newly-learned _confusion_ on the guards.  He decides against it in the end, since that might end up making the guards kill each other.  Instead, he realizes that Scree could easily do some underground scouting of the glass cylinder.  The earth elemental Familiar goes underground at Kibi’s behest, and starts reporting back what he sees:

"Hmmm.  There’s a glass tube under the ground, just like you said.  And it goes down very far.  I’m not sure how far, though.  I’ll see.  Hmmm.  More than twenty feet, I’d say.  Maybe thirty.  Ah!  Fascinating!  There’s a chamber of air under here.  I’ll just poke my eye a tiny bit through the ceiling to see what’s in there.  Hmmm.  The glass tube ends at the ceiling of the room.  There are people in the room, wearing chain clothing and with weapons.  Three of them.  They are looking up at where the glass tube pokes out of the ceiling and pointing at it.   They must be sensing the vibrations from Ernie pounding on the other end of the tube.  Oh, but they’re people, so they probably are just hearing the noise.  Oh, and there’s something sticking out of the ground, directly below the glass tube.  It’s a big glowing sapphire on a stone pedestal.  It’s creating a cone of light that’s shining upward and hitting the bottom of the long glass tube.  It’s all quite interesting."

Kibi relays this to Ernie, who stops swinging and smacks his forehead.   Thirty feet!  Aargh!  So much for smashing it.  But that gem… that seems to be the target.  All three of them fly back to the street to tell the others about what Scree has discovered.   Hearing the news, they devise a new plan.  Grey Wolf flies Morningstar over to the garden, where there are still guards standing.   They gape as Morningstar casts a pair of _monster summoning_ spells, creating one small Xorn and one medium-sized one.  The guards ready their weapons, but Morningstar warns them that the Xorn will not attack unless provoked.  Then she address the Xorn (who fortunately speak common):  "40 below here is a open room with a large blue gem in it.  I want you to burrow down to the chamber, come up from the bottom, and eat that gem.   Defend yourselves if you have to, but that gem is your priority.  Now go."  The big xorn tells the smaller xorn:  "It’s mine," and they vanish into the earth.  Scree follows, giving Kibi a play-by-play.

"The Xorn are moving easily through the earth.  Now they’re going around the room to come up from below.  I’ll just poke my eye a bit through the wall again.  They should be arriving… ah!  There they are.  There are a bunch of people with the chain clothing in the room now.  They see the xorn!  There’s some commotion.  The big xorn has the gem in its mouth.  It… hmm… the gem seems to be rooted to the pillar.  The xorn cannot bite it off.  The people are attacking the xorn with their weapons, but aren’t having much luck.  The Xorn is trying to envelop the gem in its mouth.  It’s trying to pull the gem free, but can’t.  Oh, one of the people seems to have made a gash in the smaller xorn’s body.  It’s fighting back.  It… ooooh, that was painful.  One of the people has fallen over.  The people are crowding around the small xorn.  Another one of the people has fallen.  Oops!  The smaller xorn has been killed.  I think the larger one has given up on the gem.  Now it’s fighting the people.  It just tore one of them apart!  They’re attacking it, but it’s much stronger.   It… it just bit the head off of someone.  My, you people are filled with lots of fluid!  There’s a lot of shouting.  More people are arriving and swinging swords at the xorn.  One of them has shouted: "Shouldn’t we get the masters?"  Another has answered, "No, they can’t break off at this point." Oh, another person has fallen.  There are many bodies on the ground now.  Six or seven.  Wait!  Oh, the xorn has vanished."  

Thinking that they have caught their enemies with their pants down, the Company decides to move in for the kill.  A combination of flying and _dimension dooring_ gets the whole lot of them into the garden, where the guards have seemingly given up and gone back inside.  Aravis uses two charges from his _staff of earth and stone_ to create two steep-ramp passages, intending that a third such passage will allow entrance to that underground room from the side, rather than the top.  The party slides down the ramps, and casts a bunch of _haste_ spells before Aravis fires off the third _passwall_.  Then they go charging down into the room.  

There are seven armed guards in the small room, taken mostly by surprise by the emerging party.  It’s a slaughter; the guards would be plenty tough to take on normal folk, but are no match for the Company.  There a brief moment of worry when a black-robed figure comes through an open doorway at one end of the room.  He shouts "two!" and the few armed guards still standing close their eyes, just as the mage casts a _color spray_.  Kay and Flicker are briefly stunned, but the rest of the party is unaffected.  The caster, along with the remaining fighters, are hacked down with ease.  

Morningstar goes over to the glowing gem on the pedestal; it is throwing a cone of light up toward the ceiling, where they can see the bottom end of the long glass cylinder.  The gem still doesn’t budge, but Morningstar casts _dispel evil_ on it.  There is a popping sound, and though the gem continues to glow, Morningstar is now able to lift it free of the pedestal!

And now the Company faces a choice.  Do they take the gem and flee back up the ramps?  Or do they press on, hoping that the important Black Circle figures who "can’t break off at this point," won’t be able to put up much defense?  They still have several more rounds of _haste_… what will they do?

…to be continued…

*Hey! I've discovered a whole missing chunk of the story that should be here.  I'll go copy it from StevenAC's page and reinsert it here, where it belongs:*

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 139e*_

The Company decides to strike while the iron is _hasted,_ as it were. They leave the room with the gem they think is the source of the Divination Sink (taking the gem with them), and head into the underground complex. Scree is generally scouting ahead, occasionally poking his eye-gems out into rooms and hallways and reporting what he sees back to Kibi. Morningstar casts a _sending_ to Captain Cobb, that he should send some soldiers to the area (at street level) and wait for further reports. He answers that troops will be sent immediately. 

Because of _shield other_ spells cast, Dranko and Grey Wolf make sure to move as a team, staying within spell range. Morningstar and Aravis have a similar relationship. It makes maneuvering and scouting tricky, but they manage.

A short stretch of stone corridor ends at another door, on the other side of which is a large storeroom. There are crates and barrels smelling of onions and fruit, but nothing of real interest. There are three doors leading out of the storeroom.

Scree reports that one of the doors leads into a long hallway, and a second door leads to a parallel hallway that soon bends away from the first. Aravis casts _arcane lock_ on the second door, to keep guards from arriving while they investigate the first door. Speaking of which, when Ernie heads down that way, someone down at the end of it fires off a crossbow bolt. It misses Ernie and skips harmlessly down the stone hall. Kibi, using Aravis’s _wand of fireballs_, follows up behind Ernie and shoots off a _fireball_
down the hallway and into the room beyond.  Kaboom!!  Scree reports general unhappiness in the room, and a number of smouldering people. Dranko heads down to deal with any survivors, and ends up killing the only one with a nasty whip-shot to the eye.

While Scree is still off scouting behind the _arcane locked_ door, he pokes his eye into a small guard alcove, and sets off a clanging _alarm_ spell. There are three guards there – two armed with swords, one wearing robes – and these become even more alert than they already were.

Morningstar opens the third door, and is greeted by both another _alarm_ spell and a _color spray_ from a second guard-alcove. She shrugs off the latter, and the party moves in to make quick work of the three guards.

Aravis drops into the Crosser’s Maze for a moment, thinking that perhaps these guards are from the other Prime, and as such might be drawing power from the power-sources he has noticed coursing through the cosmos. But he sees nothing unusual, unless you count the impending complete overlap of the two Primes.

The stone hall continues on the other side of the small guardroom, and empties into a small library. There are several hundred books and scrolls there, crammed into free-standing shelves. There is an alcove with a desk and chair, and a stack of paper on the desk. The party takes them for future reading, since they, like the books, are written in an unfamiliar script. (Kibi has _comprehend languages_ prepared, but the Divination Sink still seems to be affecting them.)

One door leads from the library to a long flight of stairs going up. Flicker stays behind to carefully search it for traps, while the others leave by a second exit. It leads to another small guard post, where another clanging _alarm_ goes off when they open the door. The guards in this one actually manage a couple of lucky shots on Step before he butchers them; Morningstar keeps him well healed. Each guard post is the same – a small room containing two or three fighters and a mage. Clearly they are readying actions so that when anyone comes through the door, the mage fires off a _color spray_ and then the fighters attack. They are obviously disciplined, staying at their posts even when _alarms_ elsewhere are sounding. The Company has them easily out-powered, but this only makes them worried. It all seems too easy.

The only really alarming thing to come from the battles at the guard posts is Aravis’s hair. Twice he uses a charge from his _wand of magic missiles_ to pop the enemy mages. The first time turns his hair a purplish-blonde color. But the second time turns his hair into a very medusa-like (though non-petrifying) tangle of snakes! There is a sudden thrashing from within Aravis’s pack, and Pewter’s frantic voice sounds in the wizard’s head. 

"Aaaaahh! Boss! Your pack is full of snakes! They’re all over me! Boss, help, help!"

It calms him a bit to learn that the snakes are actually a part of his own fur. Ick!

Further exploration (preceded by advanced scouting from Scree, relayed via Kibi) reveals two more storerooms and another guard post. Kay is actually stunned briefly by a _color spray_, but the others come up quickly and finish off the guards. Although they look like any other human guards, and although they use numbers spoken in Common to announce their maneuvers, they don’t seem to understand when the party briefly talks at them. Strange.

One of the storerooms is long, and contains stacked metal beams, some over twenty feet long. A few of them have notches cut out of them every eight inches or so. There are also stacks of wooden planks, and Kay spends some time slicing these up with her magical Woodcutter sword. The second storeroom is smaller, and holds stacks of dozens of obsidian bricks. There are also several large metal gears leaning against the walls. On a table are a variety of hand-tools – chisels, a hammer, some spikes, an awl. Dranko takes a chisel (to replace the one that broke when Ernie smashed it with a mace) and several party members take souvenir obsidian bricks.

One of the two doors from this last storeroom leads to a small prison. There is a disturbing room with manacles bolted into two of the walls, and a wooden chair in the center surrounded by a black circle set in the floor. There are four small five-byfive feet cells adjacent to this room, and all are empty, though Scree sees a large dried bloodstain on the floor of one. Dranko tries focusing holy energy on the black circle on the floor, but it has no effect.

By this time the _haste_ spells have run out, but the party continues in the only unexplored direction other than the stairs up (the hallways eventually formed a loop back to the other side of Aravis’s _arcane locked_ door). As they head down this last hallway, a familiar feeling of unease starts to grow stronger in the minds of the wizards – null shadows nearby! Scree very carefully pokes his eye into the room beyond the door at the end of the hall. He sees no null shadows, but instead reports that the room looks like an alchemy lab, full of bottles, beakers, tubes and flasks. Strange liquids are bubbling and dripping through some of them. Most disturbing is a black half-circle set into the floor along one wall, and a closed cabinet bolted to the wall above that half-circle.

Cautiously, about half the party enters the lab, while the others (Dranko, Morningstar, Grey Wolf and Aravis) hang back in the nearer storeroom. Kibi takes a few minutes to study the lab equipment, and finds it very strange. Certain chemicals appear to be being used in unusual or even dangerous combinations, without resulting in the disasters he would expect. He does figure out enough to guess that the final product of all this alchemy is meant to be consumed by a living creature. The party has a sudden thought that maybe they are brewing something which, when fed to people, turns them into null shadows. Certainly the feeling of unease has become even greater, especially among the mages.

The Company really wants to see what’s in the cabinet guarded by the black half-circle. Kay takes a deep breath, and while the rest of the party stands far back, she waves her arm through the air above the circle. Immediately, horrible wounds open on the skin of her hand, and spread quickly over her entire body! Blood is spilling out all over the floor, and she cries out in terrible pain, reduced near to death! The others rush forward, and with spells and uses of healing wands, Kay is quickly healed back to near full strength. And with the trap – er – disarmed, they open the cabinet to find almost twenty small glass vials full of a light green liquid. Dranko takes them, wraps them in cloth, and puts them in his _Heward's widemouth pouch._

This lab seems to be a dead-end, and there have been no other avenues besides the upward-leading staircase. But Scree rumbles, and says to Kibi: "There’s something wrong with this room. It’s not… solid, like it should be." Aha! A secret door! Scree’s sense of something amiss isn’t sharp enough to detect the door’s location, and Kibi is hesitant to send him out to scout after what happened to Kay. The party searches the room, and eventually discovers the seams of a secret door, as well as a small button hidden in the cabinet. They all line up, mages at the back, ready to face null shadows if they come out. Morningstar presses the button…

The door swings open, revealing an empty ten feet of hallway, ending at a blank stone wall. Hmm. Morningstar presses the button again, and a second door swings open. Dranko looks into the space beyond; it’s a small room, with what looks like a pit in the floor. He casts _light,_ steps into the short hallway, and sees that the pit is really a very narrow spiral staircase leading down into darkness. Still no sign of null shadows, but the feeling of unease is palpable, even for him.

Morningstar starts to send another _sending_ to Cobb, when Dranko steps into the small room. He is immediately beset, but not by null shadows. Instead, two large gargoyles, one just on either side of the door, step forward and attack! And once that happens, _then_ the null shadows come boiling up from the spiral staircase, attacking Dranko where the gargoyles have left space.

Dranko tumbles backwards into the alchemy lab. The others line up in formation, wizards protected at the back, fighter-types up front. In a display of excellent tactics, the party makes short work of both the gargoyles and the null shadows, despite the problem that one can only be damaged by magical weapons, and the other only by non-magical weapons. The wizards at the back are able to cast spells that damage the gargoyles – Kibi and Grey Wolf launch _fireballs_ over people’s heads into the room beyond, so that only the gargoyles are in the blast area. Aravis, having reactivated his _boots of speed_, casts _rope trick_, and then shoots a _sonic bolt _ over Ernie’s head. When the gargoyles are killed but some null shadows still remain, the three wizards – Kibi, Aravis and Grey Wolf – go up into the extra-dimensional _rope trick_ space, out of harm’s way.

The null shadows are eventually killed, though both Kay and Dranko lose a spell out of their heads from the creatures’ touch before the last one is dispatched. Grey Wolf realizes that with the Divination Sink technically in another plane, perhaps divination spells will function outside of it. It works! A _detect magic_ spell reveals that some of the alchemical apparatus is magical, as is the green liquid in the vials from the cabinet.

Morningstar also finishes her _sending_ during the battle, telling Cobb it’s time to move him and his troops down to this underground complex. Then the Company spends fifteen minutes filling up empty spell slots, and Kibi takes a closer look at the notes he took from the desk, finally able to use _comprehend languages_ to read them. The notes are on the subject of a spell called _forbiddance_, and more specifically about how that spell will interact with, and possibly interfere with, some other large area-of-effect spell. What that other spell is is hard for Kibi to puzzle out, but it’s some vast, customised large-volume spell the likes of which he’s never seen before.

Fifteen minutes later, as Cobb and his guards still haven’t found their way down, the party decides it’s time to head down the spiral staircase; Morningstar leaves a note with instructions for Cobb tacked to the door to the alchemy lab. Kay, in the front, takes the first step down, and sets off another magical trap. It’s not as gruesome as the last one, but she still takes a great deal of damage from spontaneous wounds opening up on her hands and arms. Again she is healed up, and Flicker is sent to the front of the line to search for traps. Slowly he inches forwards, step by step, eyes sharp, looking for any clue to where the next trap might be. He finds it, about half-way down the stairs, but only because he steps into its area of effect. Soon Flicker is writhing on the stairs in pain, near death, trailing blood from a dozen horrible wounds. Yet more healing from one of the _wands of cure serious wounds_ is administered.

And it’s around now that someone mentions that, with the Divination Sink still up in the _rope trick_, they can probably find these magical traps with a simple _detect magic_ spell. There is the sound of nine hands slapping against nine foreheads, and Ernie casts _detect magic_. He goes down with Flicker to the bottom of the stairs, and does detect a strong source of abjuration magic at the very bottom. Gingerly, he draws a chalk outline for Flicker, showing where the magic of the trap is. And while Flicker is decent at searching for traps, he’s very good at disabling them. A little scratching at _just_ the right places along the edge of the spell, causing slight disruptions, and soon Ernie sees the magic fade and vanish. Flicker is ecstatic; he’s never tried to disarm such a dangerous, purely magical trap before, and wasn’t sure it would work.

The stairway empties out into a long, narrow hallway that recedes into the darkness, and from that darkness comes an ominous sound. It’s a low, steadily-pulsing thrum of power. Ernie, still concentrating on the _detect magic_, moves forwards with Flicker. The others trail behind, spaced ten feet apart in case some area-effect spell goes off. The thrumming gets louder as they proceed, and eventually a huge iron door comes into view. The thrumming is coming from that door, or something beyond it. When Ernie gets within range, he sees that the door is covered with abjuration magic.

Realizing that something extremely dangerous is likely beyond the door, they decide to escort Grey Wolf back up to the alchemy lab and away from the danger. As they ascend the staircase, they can hear voices above; Cobb and his soldiers have found them, and are methodically performing their own search. Cobb reports that when they tried to come down here via Lord Southinghorn’s estate, they were unexpectedly attacked by his personal house guard when they found the walled garden with the sundial. One of his men was killed, and two others – one of his own guard, and an Ellish priestess – were wounded. Some of his forces escorted the wounded back to the Temple of Ell, and others have apprehended Lord Southinghorn. Still, about twenty soldiers are now at their disposal. The party instructs that they should concentrate on securing the two ways out – the _passwall_ ramps and the stairs leading up out of the complex. Also, they tell Cobb about the Divination Sink, hidden in the _rope trick_. Lastly, they soberly inform Cobb that if there’s still no sign of the party in about half an hour, he should take the Divination Sink and get the hell out of there.

The Company, minus Grey Wolf, heads back down the stairs, and then down the hallway to the abjured door. Flicker again tries to disable the magic around the door, but isn’t so lucky this time. He sets off at least two wards. One is an alarm bell that starts ringing loudly, and which Ernie quickly casts a silence on. The other is yet another _greater glyph of warding_ dispensing a _harm_ spell. Flicker is again brought near to death, and is again healed back to near-full health. Flicker’s starting to look a bit shaky from being such a health yo-yo, but he takes a deep breath and tries the door. It’s locked.

Dranko casts another _detect magic_, and sees that there’s still abjuration magic there. Aravis, guessing what it is, casts _knock_ on the iron door. It swings open, and Ernie, _flying_ up near the ceiling, floats through just enough to see what’s beyond. What he sees is vast, puzzling, and terrifying.

It’s a huge chamber, over a hundred feet on a side, with a ceiling nearly forty feet high. The iron door is at one corner, and what immediately holds Ernie’s attention is at the opposite corner. There are two huge translucent spheres, each forty feet in diameter, slowly moving towards a convergence in the corner, above a huge, magically pulsing black obsidian circle set in the floor. The spheres look like planets viewed from space, but muted in color – grey, brown and dark blue, rather than bright blue, green and white. In the center of each sphere, maybe ten feet in diameter, is a solid black core.

There is more, much more in the room. In the center of the room is a circular three-feet-high stone wall, also about forty feet in diameter. (Only the fact that Ernie is flying allows him to see over that wall to the far corner beyond.)

The floor of the rest of the room is covered with smaller black circles, ranging in size from five to twenty feet in diameter. These are connected with lines, some drawn, some made with obsidian bricks set in the floor. Weird glyphs are scrawled all over the floor around these circles, along with symbols and figures depicting geometric forms and angles, wide arcs and tangents.

There is more. Between some of the obsidian floor-circles, blue energy plays across the ground in straight lines. The air above these lines shimmers faintly, like curtains of warbling air.

There is more. Three figures stand within three of the circles. About ninety feet across from the door is a human woman, heavily armed, with a breastplate emblazoned with a lightning bolt. She stands within a large circle. To Ernie’s right, equally far away, is a halfling woman, wearing a black robe, standing in a small circle.

Just beyond the halfling is a tall, pinched man with a goatee, also wearing a black robe and standing in a small circle. From all three of these inhabited circles, black energy is spilling along the floor and up a short, wide stair, where it flows into the large pulsing black circle. But this energy is tailing off, as if from a faucet that has been shut off but is still dripping a last few drops of water. Ernie can also see black energy coming from another source, that is probably the base of the other side of the large circular wall. That energy is also emptying into the pulsing black circle beneath where the two huge world-spheres are converging, but that energy is not abating.

The thrumming noise is coming from all around the room, and is timed with spikes in the pulses of black energy spilling into the circle beneath the spheres. With each thrum, the two huge spheres inch closer towards each other.

Ernie squints across the dizzying space at the man with the goatee. He has seen that man once before, across a dining-room table in a poison-filled hall, in the city of Hae Charagan.

It’s Mokad.

...to be continued...


----------



## Pillars of Hercules

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Regarding the glass column:  at this point it's just an assumption on their part; it's some weird magic-looking thing that's very close to the where their "triangulation" indicated the center of the Divination Sink should be.
> 
> And if you did have a magic gizmo above your door that detected evil or something, you'd probably never realize it had stopped working.
> 
> 
> Bear Patrol!
> 
> 
> This is just plain genius.  Sagiro is pushing the bounds of maximum coolness with this campaign.  It's so great when you get to a big moment that's been built up for months (years) in a campaign like the convergence of the planes!  Fasten your seatbelts!*


----------



## Atticus_of_Amber

*WOW!*

... and that's all I have to say.


----------



## RangerWickett

He shouted "two," then cast color spray?  Heh.  Nice maneuver.


----------



## Dawn

HA!  The enemy is maneuver numbers.  A little cross campaigning going on from the Defenders.


----------



## Caliber

Can't let this slip too far.

*bump*

I guess while I am bumping, I will mention how great this storyhour is. You and Piratecat's are defintely some of the finest stories on these boards. You even inspired me to start gaming again.  Now that I am done lavishing praise I will return the stage to you Sagiro ...


----------



## thatdarncat

bump, back up to the front page

and I do believe you guys are playing tonight


----------



## thatdarncat

Im sorry to say, that's the kind of thing we like to hear


----------



## Aravis

> KidCthulhu quote:
> Oh, we are well and truly up the creek now, and no one even thought to buy a paddle.




The thought that came to my mind is that just as we ended we got to see the excrement that was heading towards the fan...and we were in it.

The funny thing (to me) is that right before the last run a bunch o folks were saying that they were scared of the upcoming run.  I thought, "Gee, I'm not scared...we could still run away."  Now I am scared.  We did not run away.

As to our current resource situation, we do have one wildcard with us that might help...the Maze.

Hey, Sagiro, do those snakes have silver lines all over them?

Oh, I was not going to give away any spoilers...

Aravis


----------



## KidCthulhu

Aravis said:
			
		

> *As to our current resource situation, we do have one wildcard with us that might help...the Maze.
> *




I'm pretty much counting on the Maze.  Ernie's going to cover Aravis while he uses the Maze to throw a spanner into the works of the Black Circle.

Do wish we had about a dozen _Summon Monster_ spells, though.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

So now Aravis has bizarre silver arcane-looking lines covering his flesh, eyes that contain the universe...and snakes for hair.

He-lloooooooooo....negative circumstance modifier to diplomacy.  (And I thought Proty was bad...)


----------



## Aravis

Lord Pendragon said:
			
		

> *So now Aravis has bizarre silver arcane-looking lines covering his flesh, eyes that contain the universe...and snakes for hair.
> 
> He-lloooooooooo....negative circumstance modifier to diplomacy.  (And I thought Proty was bad...) *




Actually, during the session when Morningstar windwalked to Kallor with Dranko and Aravis, the combination of stars in his eyes, fine silver lines over his flesh, and somewhat cryptic comments on his part convinced the guards at the gate that he was a visiting Archmage.  Negative modifier, eh?

Also, the player behind Morningstar decided at the last session that Aravis would go over REALLY BIG at an SF Convention.

-- Aravis


----------



## Lord Pendragon

Aravis said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Actually, during the session when Morningstar windwalked to Kallor with Dranko and Aravis, the combination of stars in his eyes, fine silver lines over his flesh, and somewhat cryptic comments on his part convinced the guards at the gate that he was a visiting Archmage.  Negative modifier, eh?
> 
> Also, the player behind Morningstar decided at the last session that Aravis would go over REALLY BIG at an SF Convention.
> 
> -- Aravis *




LOL!  You have a point!


----------



## Ancalagon

Wow, that was eerie...

I sense:

A:  some kind of big eeeeviiillll spell

B:  a big fight coming!

Ancalagon


----------



## Plane Sailing

Love the way the story is going, can't wait for the next installment!



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 140b
> 
> Then the Company spends 15 minutes filling up empty spell slots*




This is an interesting 3e element that I've never seen anyone take advantage of before - was this just "refilling" after Dranko & Kay lost a spell to the null shadows, or did some of them deliberately leave a few slots empty so that they could prepare some particular spells in the light of what they found?

I think the latter is quite a cool idea for priests and wizards.


----------



## KidCthulhu

The empty spell slots are slots deliberatly left open during spell prep in the morning.  This is a very handy trick for those times when you wish you had taken _Stoneshape_.  Just take 15 minutes, pray for the spell, and voila.  Very good for those spells with limited utility, but great power within that limited sphere.

That said, it does mean one less spell available to you on a round by round basis.  If the day is going to be combat heavy, leaving slots empty may not be a good choice, because when you need healing, you need it now, not 15 minutes from now.  Great for exploration days, not for combat days.

3E clerics rock.


----------



## Zaruthustran

*Help?*

Yikes. Sounds like a very scary, James Bond finding the secret lair kind of thing. Very impressive! You players must be quaking in your boots. These guys are obviously very powerful, and y'all are, as you say, almost out of juice. 

Plus, what happens when you attack the Bad Guys and disrupt the Uber spell? Wouldn't that be kind of like, I don't know, like launching an assault on a group of guys holed up in the nuclear missile room of a submarine? 

Wow. Time to be afraid--to be very afraid.

PS: did anyone consider Sending to The Spire and letting them now what you've discovered? I think they might be a little interested in this "when worlds collide" room.


----------



## Plane Sailing

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *
> 3E clerics rock. *




Thought that was the case. Of course, 3e Wizards rock too, if they want to carry their spell books with them!

I've not yet played a Wizard or Cleric in 3, so I've not had the opportunity to do this yet - but from when I read it, it seemed like a really cool idea.

It works esp. well for clerics though - I can imagine them spending 15 minutes "praying up a storm" for that vital spell!

Cheers


----------



## Piratecat

Oh my.

We promised not to give away many spoilers, but there's an astonishing amount of blood on the battlefield. A lot of XP drained entirely away. A red-armored warrior we _really_ weren't ready for. A lot of bad luck. A lot of surprises.

Ohhhhhh, my.


----------



## RangerWickett

Hmm, if I'd been given the choice to A) watch the Oscars, or B) watch your game, I would've watched up to . . . how do you spell his name?  Sydney Potier?  And then I would've gone to your game.

I don't know if I asked for this before, but I really think it would be a good time for a new Dramatis Persona.


----------



## coyote6

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> *I don't know if I asked for this before, but I really think it would be a good time for a new Dramatis Persona. *




Sagiro is, as they say, your huckleberry. Click, and the dramatis personae shall be yours.


----------



## Sagiro

Hi everyone.

Sorry I've been so busy lately; between work and preparing for my upcoming fantasy baseball draft, I haven't had much time left over to devote to writing up the summary of the last session.  But I'm slowly chipping away at it, helped immensely by notes all my players sent me about what they remembered doing in the fight. Here's the first part:

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 141a *_

Ernie immediately flies back out to the corridor, and as quickly as he can tells the others what he saw.  Most notably he describes the dimensions of the room, the locations of the three people, the giant spheres in the far corner, and the shimmering in the air above the lines of blue energy on the floor.  Morningstar relays all of this to Grey Wolf, who waits in the upper floors with Cobb and about twenty guards and priestesses.

Ernie then flies back into the huge chamber – just missing out on the _bless_ spell cast on everyone else by Dranko.  But the whole group follows close on his heels, streaming into the room to engage the Black Circle worshippers.   Dranko, Ernie and Kibi are flying.  But because they are unwilling to cross the blue energy lines, and because they have been arrayed far down the corridor, it takes a few rounds for them all to get inside.  And during that time, their enemies are not idle.   The woman in the lightning-bolt breastplate downs a potion, and the next round drinks _two_ more potions.  Mokad reads off a spell from a scroll, and the halfling woman casts a spell on herself.  The next round, the halfling appears to cast _stoneskin_, and Mokad runs over to stand near her before casting a spell that brings up a white hemisphere of translucent energy around the two of them.  

Only Aravis waits out in the corridor.  While the others go in, he sits down and enters the Crosser’s Maze.

Ernie flies in, skirts the left-hand wall to avoid the nearest blue energy line, and quaffs a _potion of heroism_. Kay stands just inside the doorway and decides to see what happens to objects that pass over the blue lines.  She fires an arrow toward the woman in the breastplate some 80 feet away, but it vanishes when it passes through the shimmering air.  That merely confirms that their initial policy – to avoid those lines at all costs – seems to be wise.

The halfling wizard casts another spell, and another hemisphere of energy, this one a faint blue, surrounds both her and Mokad.  And the human woman in the breastplate is suddenly surrounded with a familiar grey glow – either she has cast _stoneskin_ on herself, or there is another invisible caster about!

One Certain Step moves into the room, intending to get to the armored woman on the far side. Flicker does the same, hoping to get some flanking opportunities when they arrive.  Dranko heads that way as well, flying and invisible.  He activates Thriss, instructing the snake to attack the fighter if she moves toward the party.   Mokad, now encased inside two different spell-bubbles, starts to cast a full-round spell from a staff.   Morningstar, once she has moved past the _silence_ spell around the door, casts _Searing Darkness_ at the female fighter.   It goes through the shimmering air above the line of blue energy and strikes true, searing the flesh of her target.  First blood!

Grey Wolf, back upstairs, agrees with Morningstar (over a _Rary’s telepathic bond_) that he will probably be needed down in the ritual room soon.  The World Spheres have clearly been sped up recently, and may align in a matter of minutes.   He stops to get the Divination Sink from the _rope trick_ – which cuts off the _telepathic bond_ – but on his way to talk to Cobb about having his men join him, there are sounds of combat from elsewhere in the upper complex!  Some of Cobb’s men and several Ellish priestesses go off to investigate, but about ten stay with Grey Wolf.  He instructs them to follow him as quickly as they are able, before flying down at top speed to join the others.  

Back in the ritual chamber, the sudden conflagration of a massive _flame strike_ scorches Step, Morningstar, Flicker and Ernie.  Even more disturbing than the gruesome damage (Flicker and Morningstar both fail their saves) is the fact that it was cast by a fourth enemy, heretofore invisible, who is now revealed standing in one of the black circles in their quadrant of the room.  He is even thinner than Mokad,  wears spectacles, and looks smugly satisfied.  And having just torched half the party, he then points a finger at Kay and casts another spell.  Kay’s vision starts to go dim, and she realizes with sudden horror that she has been struck blind!

Ernie flies just out of reach of the bespectacled black circle cleric and pegs him with an arrow.  Kay and Oa Lyanna activate their _fly_ spell, and while Kay is blinded, Oa Lyanna guides her flight toward the enemy human fighter.  The fighter responds with a vicious flurry of attacks from a bastard sword she wields one-handed.  In one gruesome round,  almost half of Kay’s own _stoneskin_ is whittled away, and a good deal of damage gets through it altogether.  

Kibi, flying over toward the human woman, glances down, and sees something quite startling.  The large circular three-foot-high wall in the center of the room is actually a railing, and inside its perimeter is a deep circular pit extending downward over twenty feet.  At the bottom of that pit are over twenty Black Circle clerics, most arrayed around the perimeter, with half a dozen standing in a black obsidian circle in the center of the floor.   That circle, like the large one on the floor between the converging Spheres above, is pulsing blackly in time with the loud thrumming sound that fills the entire chamber.  Black energy is streaming out of the black circle in the pit, spilling up the wall of the pit, and across the floor above, toward its counterpart.   The two enormous translucent globes, each a miniature of an entire world, are moving inexorably closer...  

...to be continued...


----------



## Fade

Why does dropping a fireball down that shaft sound like a really good idea to me?


----------



## Piratecat

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *The woman in the lightning-bolt breastplate downs a potion, and the next round drinks two more potions.  Mokad reads off a spell from a scroll, and the halfling woman casts a spell on herself.  *




Our battle cry was "Stop using one-use magic items; when we kill you, those will belong to us!"  The bad guys weren't impressed by our logic.

Actually, I think the flying Dranko was the first person to get a good look down into that hole - and he almost wet himself. Bad. Very bad.


----------



## coyote6

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *Actually, I think the flying Dranko was the first person to get a good look down into that hole - and he almost wet himself. Bad. Very bad. *




As long as he doesn't also try to lick himself, I think he'll be fine.

I still think you and Sagiro are in some sort of subconscious race to outdo one another in your campaigns. Entire planes of existence being drawn into collision, armies of ghouls clawing their way to the surface.

Man, I feel sorry for anybody whose playing in both campaigns. Poor KidCthulhu -- "Ernie! Aiee, Mokad! Nolin! Aiee, ghoul archers of death!"


----------



## Samnell

> Actually, I think the flying Dranko was the first person to get a good look down into that hole - and he almost wet himself. Bad. Very bad.




You should have used that to your advantage. Imagine the concentration DC if your aim was good...


----------



## Piratecat

It's not a spoiler to tell you that several times during the combat, my question was, "Do something to hurt him, or pee on him?"  I was trying to express to Mokad the depth of my displeasure that he chose to leave Delioch's Faith.  Decisions, decisions....


----------



## Sagiro

Here's some more:

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 141b *_

Kibi decides that this is the perfect place for his newly-learned _confusion_ spell.  He casts it down into the pit, targeting an area that encompasses the priests in the center of the lower circle.  Unfortunately, the spell is blocked by some kind of force barrier covering the pit like a lid, which glows as it blocks the magic of Kibi’s spell.  Damn!  

Kay strikes out at the enemy fighter, but without sight, her swings go wide despite the helpful whispers of Oa Lyanna.  The halfling wizard then casts another spell near the entry door, catching the slow-footed Once Certain Step.  A large rectangle of wispy white fog appears around him, and Step feels it seeping into his mind, addling his thoughts.  He shakes his head and exits the fog cloud (which stays hanging in the air around the door), and even though he finds it hard to concentrate, he moves over in position to attack the bespectacled cleric the following round.

Dranko flies across the room until he’s directly above Mokad (and above the two magic hemispheres.)  He takes careful aim and snaps his magical whip down hard on Mokad’s arm.   Mokad is still in the process of casting some full-round spell with a staff, but now his arm is jerked out of its pattern, and there is a brief, dim flash.  Whatever he was casting has clearly been disrupted! 

*>> …and a good thing, too!  Mokad was about to finishing casting a Summon Monster VI that would have added a Barbezu to the fight.*

His spell ruined, Mokad looks up and sees Dranko (now visible) hovering above him.  Dranko flips him off and grins.  Mokad glares back – and casts a targeted _dispel magic_.  Suddenly Dranko is stripped of almost all of his spells: the _fly, cat’s grace, bless_ and _bull’s strength_ are all gone, and only his _endurance_ remains.  And with the _fly_ spell gone, Dranko drops five feet, hits the downward curve of the white hemisphere (now revealed as an _anti-life shell_), and slides down to land on his feet at the hemisphere’s base.

Back nearer to the room’s entrance, Morningstar casts _chill seeds_ (the Ellish version of _fire seeds_) and flips a frozen acorn at the cleric.  Whoom!  There is a blast of frozen energy, and the cleric’s expression goes from smug to concerned.   In return, he casts _circle of doom_, dealing out inflicted damage to several nearby party-members.  Then he points at Morningstar and casts _searing light._  A beam of bright energy springs from his fingers – and _just_ misses, shooting past Morningstar’s ear.  Whew!

Kibi, still flying overhead, decides to ready himself for the cleric’s next move.  Specifically, he readies a _fireball_ on the condition of the cleric making any move to cast another spell.  Meanwhile Ernie draws Beryn Sur and swings at the cleric, landing a damaging blow.  Still the enemy is standing.  Flicker is still running (while avoiding the blue force lines) over to where Kay and the enemy fighter are exchanging blows.

Kay takes a full round of blind swings at her foe, and with Oa Lyanna continuing to whisper advice ("she’s feinting right… sword up…now,  swing low!…) manages to land a couple of hits.  But the armored woman is protected by her own _stoneskin_ that absorbs almost all of the damage.  The halfling woman casts another spell across the room that has no immediate or obvious effect.  But a moment later it becomes clear what she did; One Certain Step strides forward to where Ernie is battling the bespectacled cleric, and hacks at Ernie with his greatsword!  Ernie wheels in surprise, and when he sees Step finishing his back-swing, he angrily shouts  "what were you thinking?!" But then he sees the terrible sight of Step’s face, contorted in horror and shame, as he struggles futilely against a _dominate person_ spell.  His mind, dulled by the _mind fog_, is unable to overcome the halfling woman’s control.  Ernie realizes what has happened, and casts _magic circle against evil_ on the paladin.  Step feels the enemy wizard's mind forcibly denied control by Ernie’s spell.  

Dranko, standing 10 feet from Mokad, smirks and says "If the Black Circle is all about knowledge, how come you didn’t know to wear water-proof clothes today?"  Then he sets the _decanter of endless water_ on "geyser" and sprays Mokad with it.  It knocks Mokad down, but the Black Circle cleric manages to stand again, and concentrate enough to hit Dranko with an _enervation spell_.  Dranko feels the negative levels settle like evil gravity on his soul, and two of his few remaining spells vanish from his mind.

Flicker glugs a healing potion and keeps running, almost reaching the enemy fighter, who is in the process of butchering Kay even through the _stoneskin_.  Her glinting broadsword is moving almost too fast to see, and an inordinate number of her hits are criticals.  After another flurry of swings, Kay is badly wounded, and her _stoneskin_ left with but a single point of protection.

The bespectacled cleric begins to cast another spell, but never gets a chance to finish.  Kibi, flying above him, sees the casting begin and nails him with a _fireball_ from Aravis’s wand.   When the flames clear, the foe has fallen, the lenses of his glasses melted into slag.  There is much rejoicing.

One thing that has puzzled the party is a phrase from the last letter from Califax, that the ritual must take place "beneath the open noon sky, and yet not beneath the direct watch of the sun."   That particular puzzle is now answered, as a loud grinding noise comes from somewhere above.  The party glances up to the dark ceiling in the center of the room, and sees now that, above the circular pit in the floor, is a cylindrical hole in the ceiling, extending upward a good forty feet.   And at its top, at ground level, two sliding panels are slowly retracting, exposing the 20-odd Black Circle priests in the pit to the twilight afternoon sky above Kallor.   

And the World Spheres move closer, so close now that they’re surely less than a minute away from touching.   The black energy is flowing up the side of the pit like a solid wave, and the beat of the loud thrumming, timed to the pulsing of the huge black circle beneath the Spheres, gets faster and faster…

…to be continued…


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 141c *_

Aravis’s body is still out in the hallway, and his mind is still voyaging in the Crosser’s Maze.   He sees Grey Wolf represented by a bright patch of energy, suspended between the two massive planes that are practically overlapping.   For several rounds he has tried to find and manipulate the dark energy the Black Circle priests are using, to no avail.  He has also seen thousands of dots of light hovering between the planes – all of them planar travelers on the verge of crossing over at the completion of the ritual.  Strangely, only about two dozen are likely to come out in this particular vicinity.

Realizing that he’s not doing any good outside, Aravis drops out of the Maze.  When his head clears a few seconds later, Grey Wolf comes flying down the stairs, streaking toward him.   Both of the wizards take a round to cast _haste_ (Aravis via his _boots of speed_), and then enter the fray.  Both are able to shake off the effects of the _mind fog_ right inside the door.

Ernie sees that Kay won’t last much longer, and pulls out one of his more potent magic items: a _heal scroll_.  He starts to read it, but the power of the spell proves too much for his abilities, and he is unable to manifest its effect.  He utters a vicious oath:  "Gosh darn it all to heck!"

Kay, realizing that Ernie’s attempt to heal her has failed, disengages from her foe, flying up and away toward the center of the room.   Morningstar shouts that she should fly towards her, so that she can cure her blindness.  Meanwhile, Flicker is finally flanking the enemy fighter (with Thriss providing the flanking opportunity).  He manages to hit with a damaging sneak attack, much of which penetrates the _stoneskin_.  The woman wheels to face the new half-sized threat, smiles contemptuously, and launches another dizzying series of attacks with her bastard sword.  Blood flies everywhere, and Flicker drops to the ground unconscious.  Ernie shouts in alarm.  "Flicker’s down!"  Step, shaking his head clear, runs forward toward the woman. 

Dranko readies his _decanter_, to spray it directly on whichever of the two enemy spell-casters tries to cast.  That turns out to be the halfling woman, who is knocked down by the blast of water.  But she is still able to stand back up and concentrate enough to cast another spell: a _slow_ spell, aimed at Dranko.  The half-orc feels his muscles slowing down, and the world around him seems to speed up slightly.   But Dranko doesn’t stay _slowed_ for long.  Morningstar blankets the area with a _dispel magic_, and while it fails to penetrate the enemies within the _minor globe of invulnerability_, it does get rid of the _slow_ spell.

Mokad casts another spell on himself, and his body shimmers.   Immediately after that, Kibi arrives, flying directly over the heads of Mokad and the enemy halfling.  He thinks he remembers reading about the _minor globe_ spell,  and has some recollection that powerful spells can blow through its protective bubble.  He pulls a _scroll of cone of cold_ out and reads it, hoping for a better outcome than Ernie's.  He finishes the spell, and a blast of frost covers his foes.  When it clears, both of them are covered with ice, though Mokad seems more annoyed than injured.  The halfling looks worse for the wear.  "Should have worn warmer clothes, too," Dranko suggests.  

But Mokad is no longer looking at Dranko.  He is looking over Dranko’s shoulder, looking at Grey Wolf, who has just flown into the room.  Mokad’s brow furrows in worry.  Grey Wolf wastes no time; he casts _lightning bolt_ at the fighter who has just felled Flicker.  The electricity strikes the woman, but much of it is drawn into the breastplate with the lightning bolt design on the front, and she takes little damage.  But there’s no time to worry about such things.  With his _haste_ allowing him more movement, Grey Wolf flies over to the World Spheres and positions his body so that it touches both of the great globes.  There is a terrible jolt, and the ever-present churning in his guts becomes overwhelming.  He drops unconscious and falls to the ground, no longer touching either of the Spheres.  Edghar, to whom Grey Wolf has given orders to feed him the poison pellet as a last resort, also blacks out.  And now the edges of the Spheres are actually touching, and still moving toward perfect alignment.   Each of the Spheres has a black core, and these have not yet met, but their merging seems inevitable.  And well does the Company remember the words of prophecy that the Eyes of Moirel spoke to Grey Wolf through Skorg:  *"Stand in shadow. Stand ‘twixt the shadows. When the sky is revealed and the arcs touch your frame, the window will open. Your flame must be extinguished before the cores converge on your soul."*

...to be continued...


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 141d *_

Kibi, with no spells left that can penetrate the _minor globe_, decides to try out his Dwarven throwing axe.  He’s not much good with weapons, let alone thrown weapons, but the axe flies true, hitting the flinching Mokad and drawing blood.  Kibi is psyched.   On the other side of the battlefield, Ernie scoops up Flicker’s body and flies with it to safety – but is nearly killed himself by the enemy fighter’s attack of opportunity.  Then the woman in the breastplate steps forward to meet the approaching Step, shrugging off Thriss’ attacks.  Step meets her advance and swings his greatsword, but his swing is mostly blocked by the _stoneskin_.  

Morningstar, having seen Kibi’s success in overpowering the enemy defenses, calls a _flame strike_ down on Mokad and the halfling.  Mokad seems mostly uninjured by the blast, but the halfling collapses in a smoking heap.  Another one down!  Dranko catches a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, just above pit in which the two dozen Black Circle priests continue their ritual.  "I think the force barrier may have just gone down!" he calls.

Aravis decides to test the theory before wasting serious firepower.  He runs over to the nearest segment of the low circular wall and casts _magic missile_ from his wand, aimed down at one of the priests.   The missiles strike the very-much-intact force barrier and are harmlessly deflected.  "Nope!"  Aravis calls.  "Still up!"  At least this use of the wand gets rid of his snaky hair.  In fact, it gets rid of his hair altogether.  For once, Pewter is happy to be bald.

Kay lands near Morningstar, and while waiting to have her blindness cured, uses the healing power of her warhammer to undo some of the damage done by her adversary.  And then the cavalry arrives.  Four priestesses of Ell and eight of Cobb’s guards come running into the room, where they look around in awe at the enormous chamber.  Fortunately they were warned by Grey Wolf to avoid the lines of blue energy!

The woman in the breastplate turns to Step, with a confident sneer that seems to say "next."  And she backs up the look, slashing at Step and landing four heavy and well-placed blows.  The paladin falls into a pool of his own blood.  Aravis sees Step fall, and pegs the fighter with a _sonic bolt_ (a _lightning bolt_ spell that does sonic damage rather than electricity).  Then he casts _dimension door_, appearing next to the unconscious Grey Wolf.

Dranko whips Mokad again, and then tries to prevent his enemy from seeing Grey Wolf over his shoulder.  But Mokad sees, and it’s clearly dawning on him just what a danger Grey Wolf’s presence here represents.  He casts a horizontal _blade barrier_ at shin height, over where Grey Wolf's body lies.  Aravis leaps backward, avoiding the whirling blades, but Grey Wolf, just regaining consciousness, is brutally slashed.  He grabs Edghar and runs as fast as he can out of the _blade barrier_ feeling the magic slice his legs.

Morningstar finally casts _remove blindness on Kay_, and shouts orders to her priestesses to either help Step or shoot ranged weapons at Mokad.   Kay, finally able to see, shoots arrows at the enemy fighter.  Kibi turns from Mokad and shoots the fighter with another _fireball_ from Aravis’s wand.   The woman is still standing, and strides forward, eager to engage a new opponent.  Ernie stabilizes the unconscious and bleeding Flicker before flying back to see if Step is still alive.

Aravis is not pleased with Mokad and his _blade barrier_.  Fuming, he levels his _staff of earth and stone_ and casts _passwall_, opening up a pit beneath Mokad’s feet.  Mokad totters, lunges, falls into the 10-foot-deep pit, but just catches himself, hanging onto the lip by his fingers.   Aravis then turns and casts a second _passwall_, diagonally and downward toward the large pit in the center of the room.  He hopes to bypass the force "lid" and create an opening into the lower ritual chamber.  But the _passwall_ is thwarted by another force wall; it seems that the entire space must be so shielded.

Dranko, smiling, cracks his whip at Mokad’s exposed hands – and Mokad drops into the bottom of the pit.  The _anti-life shell_ and _minor globe_ still shield him.  But they don’t protect him from Kibi, who flies back over his pit and again flings his dwarven axe downward.  Still aided by Dranko’s _bless_ spell, Kibi scores a direct critical hit, slicing deep into Mokad’s chest!  Mokad looks up, realizes the predicament he’s in, and casts a small _wall of stone_.  It creates a horizontal barrier about half-way up the pit, covering about two-thirds of the opening.  He steps back underneath it, shielded now from everyone’s line-of-sight, but still with an escape hatch should he want it. 

Grey Wolf, lying on the floor, drinks a healing potion but doesn’t stand up yet, not wanting to make a target of himself.  Morningstar, seeing the enemy fighter still moving forward, decides enough is enough.  She nails her with one final _searing darkness_, and the woman in the breastplate screams before finally falling dead to the ground.  

Only Mokad now stands among their enemies, not counting the Black Circle priests in the pit below.  Those have not looked up, not taken any notice at all of any of the fight going on above their heads.  And the black energy still continues to flow, drawing the World Spheres ever closer to convergence.  


_*begin April Fools False Content*
Suddenly there is a tremendous tearing sound.  The World Spheres have lurched forward, and as the party looks on in horror, they meet directly above the large black circle on the ground, the cores overlapping in their center.  Grey Wolf is still alive, and not in the proper place!  He feels the churning in his guts become a terrible burning, and as the party watches helplessly, his body and soul are burned away as the Black Circle ritual reaches its terrible finale.  There is a deep shadow around him, followed by a sickening greenish glow, and then he is gone, with only a black vapor marking his passing.  

And all around them in the room, enemy soldiers begin to appear.   One after another, dressed in spiked black armor, they step forward across the planar boundary from Volpos to Abernia.  In only a few seconds the room is full of them, all wielding cruel,  curved swords.   And then one last soldier appears, towering above them, red plate armor covering his body, a blood-red helm covering his face.  

"We are here!," he exults.  "We have returned to Abernia, and this time we shall not be driven out."

The Company realizes they are doomed, but some of them must get out to warn the Spire.  Kay, Kibi and Ernie, who are still flying, flee through the hole opened to the sky above the large pit.   Behind them they hear the sounds of battle, as the black-armored soldiers move in and overpower those remaining in the room.  For Dranko, Morningstar, Step and Flicker, the adventure has come to an untimely end.  And the others, fleeing through the air, see below in Kallor that every street is filled with black-armored soldiers, and even the countryside beyond is swarming with the enemy.   Some of the buildings in the southern parts of the city are already burning.

Naradawk Skewn has come to Charagan at last.
*end April Fools False Content*_


----------



## Rune

No...words...can't...speak...shock...wow...


----------



## Sagiro

You know what the best thing about April 1 is?

It gives me an excuse to tell GREAT BIG WHOPPERS!  

The Company still lives, the ritual hasn't been completed, and the _true_ outcome is still to be revealed.  

April Fools everyone!

  

-Sagiro


----------



## Swack-Iron

I've been here since Day One. Sagiro's and PC's have been my favorites. I check the boards every day to see if they've updated. Other than the regular news on the front page, this is the most important part of these boards to me.

I fell for this one hook, line and sinker.

So Sagiro, it's a testament to your writing and storytelling skills how well you pulled this one off. And it's a testament to your rat-bastardness that, due to the amazing coincidence of having the telling of the culmination of your entire campaign fall on April Fool's, you pull the wool over all our eyes.

And as someone else mentioned, the only way you can make it up to all of us is to post the *real* ending post-haste!!!


----------



## Citizen Mane

*looks curiously at fish hook embedded in paw, thus not noticing the net that lands on him from behind*

Let this be a lesson to lions — 5 a.m. wake-ups on 1 April leave us open to trickery.  Well done, Sagiro. 

tKL


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 141e *_

Ernie lands by Step and sees that the paladin will almost certainly live until the priestesses of Ell reach him.  He flies back toward the others, healing himself as he goes with a charge from a healing wand.  As he does this, he sees a group of a dozen enemy soldiers come rushing into the chamber, dressed in the varying uniforms of local Silent Quarter house guards.  The front two of them go charging directly across the nearest blue energy line, and vanish.  The others stop short, and start to go around.

Kibi notices their approach, and lays down a _spike stones_ covering the entire area around the door.   The advancing enemy soldiers come to a halt, many of them hopping in pain.  Dranko summons Iglat, the small fire elemental from his mace, and it drops into the pit to plague Mokad.  There is no indication of what happens to him.

Wanting to inflict some personal pain against his enemies, Grey Wolf casts an _ironstorm_ around the enemy guards, who are already immobilized by the _spike stones_.   Some try to flee, and drop from spike damage.  Others stay put, and start to take damage from the whirling iron filings.

The other members of the Company stay just outside the two protective spheres still shielding Mokad, wondering what he’s doing down below the _wall of stone_.  Then Aravis uses a wand to cast _levitate_ on Grey Wolf, lifting him back up so that his body intersects both Spheres.  Once again Grey Wolf tries mightily to stay conscious, but the pain is too great and he (and Edgar) both black out.  Aravis makes sure he stays floating the in the air; Grey Wolf’s body hangs limply between the two World Spheres, Edghar on his chest.

And Aravis goes into the Maze again, right there in the very shadow of the World Spheres, hoping to see something that will spare the necessity of killing Grey Wolf.  He sees something very curious.  At this close range, he can see Grey Wolf’s body suspended at the center of the two planes.  And around him, binding him to both worlds, is a latticework of crystal webbing.   There’s a rainbow of color:  white, orange, red, blue, yellow… and a purple and green color both the same shade as the Company’s two Eyes of Moirel.   Realizing that the worst he can do is kill a man already destined to die, Aravis tries focusing the energy of the Maze through Ernie, intending to burn away the crystal webs and unbind Grey Wolf from the two planes.  

Ernie feels a strange tugging at his soul, as if something is trying to suck the life-force out of him.  He realizes that it cannot succeed unless he wills it, and thinking it’s probably some Black Circle magic, he doesn’t cooperate.  But when he runs over to where Aravis has fallen to his knees, he sees that Aravis has entered the Maze.  Ernie recalls Aravis’s report of how he thinks the Maze works, that its power has to be drawn and focused through living beings, and realizes that the pull on his being is probably Aravis.   He shouts out that suspicion to the others, and then gives in to the pull.

He suddenly feels a great chill down to his very core, and in the Maze, Aravis is able to direct the raw elemental energy at the crystal webbing.  Some of it flakes away, but it is not enough.  Realizing it will take all the power he can get, he reaches out to the others in the room, trying to draw on their energy as well.   He only spares Morningstar and Kibi, since they are the ones tasked with killing the suspended Grey Wolf before the cores of the World Spheres meet.

After Ernie’s shouted speculation about what’s happening, the others also voluntarily give up their life force.  Morningstar shouts to the priestesses and soldiers that they should do the same.  (The four priestesses all do; of Cobb’s men, some do, but about half are too frightened.)  Aravis, deep in the Maze, suddenly finds a flood of power at his disposal.  He channels it all at the crystal webbing, which starts to break away in large chunks.   Those outside contributing to Aravis’s efforts feel life and warmth sucked out of them, stolen away to fuel the Maze.   The Spheres get closer and closer, the cores practically touching now.  Black energy is spilling across the floor in a solid wave beneath Aravis…

…and in the depths of the Crosser’s Maze, the webs break apart entirely; no longer is the bloodline of Moirel bound into the connection between Volpos and Abernia.  Grey Wolf snaps awake, hovering in the air.  For the first time in a long, long time, he feels no churning, no discomfort, no sensation of his body or soul connected to the planes.  He flies up and away from the World Spheres, leaving Morningstar and Kibi (poised to kill him) confused about what to do now.

The cores of the Spheres meet, and their huge volumes ripple with black energy.  The cores glow an impossibly luminous black.   Around the room, two dozen forms start to take shape – black-armored warriors all, except for one.  A huge soldier in familiar red plate starts to coalesce in the room, a huge sword in his hand. 

The Spheres linger at perfect conjunction for a sliver of time, but there is no descendant of Moirel to keep them bound together, and they slide out of phase, each heading to where the other had started.

The black energy surges back away from the Spheres, back down into the pit where the two dozen Black Circle worshippers still stand.   There is a moment of massive magical feedback, and with a sickening rending sound, the pit is suddenly filled with a damp red mist.  Blood splatters against the underside of the force ceiling.  One of the soldiers, whom Morningstar had told to keep an eye on the ritual pit, turns away in sudden disgust and vomits on the floor.  The black-armored soldiers and their red-armored leader are suddenly frozen, and just as they fade away, the Company watches as their bodies are also torn silently apart.   Much cheering follows.

Aravis stops channeling the life force of his comrades, and instead tries to see if he can draw Mokad into the Maze, as Solomea Pirenne had done to the Company months earlier.  But the strain finally overwhelms him, and his mind is ejected from the Maze.  He sits upright, and sees most of the Company standing near Mokad’s pit, still outside the _anti-life shield_.   Morningstar has cast a _mind fog_ down in the pit, and Kibi, once the _minor globe_ had vanished, had shot another _fireball_ down into it, but there’s no proof that Mokad is even still down there.  Just in case,  Grey Wolf walks over to the edge of the _anti-life shell_ and calls down to Mokad:  "No army for you today… so sorry!" 

So Aravis, foggy from being in the Maze for so long and able to do little else, dismisses the _passwall_.  Ordinarily this would harmlessly eject anyone inside the pit out of the opening… but Mokad has created a _wall of stone_ sealing off most of the pit halfway up!  

Wham!  Mokad is ejected, but no so harmlessly, as his body slams into the _wall of stone_ and then flips around it, before landing shakily on his feet at ground level.  His body is bruised, and one of his legs looks broken.  But still alive, and defiant to the last, Mokad immediately flies, up over the center of the room and toward the open ceiling high above. 

The Company hits him with everything they have.   Dranko fires off the _searing light_ from his whip, but Mokad had cast _spell resistance_ while down in the pit, and the spell fails to affect him.  Aravis, still _hasted,_ nails him with a _sonic bolt_ that gets through the _spell resistance_, but the _cone of cold_ that follows doesn’t seem to have any effect.   Morningstar and Ernie cast _searing darkness_ and _searing light_, but like Dranko’s they fail to penetrate the _spell resistance_.  Grey Wolf casts a final _lightning bolt_, which singes Mokad but _still_ doesn’t bring him down.

It comes down, then, to Kay, who is flying in pursuit.  She just catches up to him before he can fly off into the twilight of Kallor.

Very quietly, she whipsers "This is for you, grandpa."

And then she takes a last desperate swing with her war hammer.

Crunch!

Mokad’s body plummets seventy feet, from the top of the shaft to the force-wall ceiling of the ritual pit below.  There is a satisfying thud.  Then the force-wall gives way, and Mokad’s body falls the remaining fifteen feet, into the inch of gore covering the floor.  

Dranko climbs down the wall, and stands over Mokad’s lifeless body.  A grim expression on his face, he takes out a piece of the Blood Gargoyle, carried around since the devastation of Ghant years before.  Fulfilling a promise he has made to himself many times since, he opens Mokad’s mouth and stuffs the chunk of red stone inside.  

The thrumming of the Spheres has stopped, as has all flow of black energy between the circles on the floor.  The Company, exhausted, bleeding, and drained of life energy, looks around in wonder. 

The Black Circle has failed, its devotees gruesomely slain, and its grand designs in ruins.

Victory!

…to be continued…


----------



## Plane Sailing

What an excellent conclusion to the Black Circle business! Coming right down to the wire, heroes putting their life force on the line, Grey Wolf being a descendant of Moriel (had we known that? I don't remember that snippet of info), Bad guys being hit by the backlash of their foul magics, Mokad biting the dust. Yay Abernathys Company!! (or whatever they get called now...)

I felt a warm glow of satisfaction at the resolution here. Sometimes it is best for the villains to not escape 

(does that only leave Meledian(sp?) of the red-armoured warriors still extant?)


----------



## RavenSinger

> It comes down, then, to Kay, who is flying in pursuit. She just catches up to him before he can fly off into the twilight of Kallor, and takes a last desperate swing with her war hammer.
> 
> Crunch!




Can I just say, all my coworkers were startled when I let out a heathy "WOO-HOO!" when I read this.  

Thanks Sagiro and Abernathy's Company for such a GREAT campaign!  

--RavenSinger


----------



## Enkhidu

It's a rarity that I post in a Story Hour - even one I've read since the party was whisked to Abernathy's Tower - but I just have to say one thing.

Thank you!

My favorite campaigns have always been "save the world" campaigns that start with 1st or low level characters, and this is one of the best ones I've ever seen. 

I could go one and on about the breadth and depth of the campaign, but instead I'll just say this. I actually find myself caring about these characters - more so than in much of the published fiction I've read.

If you do eventually turn this into a book of some sort, you'll have at least one buyer!

And don't count out the possibility of a book based on a campaign: if I remember rightly, a certain pair of writers (Hickman and Weiss was it?) used campaign inspiration to create one of the quintessential pieces of gaming fiction of the 80's...

Anyway, thanks for the fun!

And keep it up, dang it!


----------



## KidCthulhu

What Sagiro hasn't described here is the long, terrible moment, when the globes merged.  Remember that the characters didn't know that Greywolf was free.  We just knew he wasn't dead, and the sphere's had joined.  

Dranko is panting outside Mokad's pit, his shoulders slumping.  Kibbe grips his axe tighter.  Kay nocks an arrow, the wind blowing her hair, even here.  Flicker raises himself on one elbow, worry etched in the lines of his face.  

The allies look up from healing Step, certain that something bad is coming, although they know not what.  

Aravis is still sunk deep in the Maze and in front of him, Greywolf's limp form hangs, like an unwanted sacrifice to some finicky god.

Ernie spins his blade, and drops the visor on his helmet, prepared to take some of the bastards with him if he can.

Then, slowly, imperceptively, the sphere's move apart.

And the whole world breathes again.  

And all hell breaks loose.

That's what a rat bastard Sagiro is.  All hail his squeaky, long tailed greatness.


----------



## Zaruthustran

*Holy smokes*

That.... 

was.....

AWESOME! 

Many thanks, Sagiro, for a wild ride. Once again, I beg you to make a full novel of this creation. Actually, I suppose that'd be a series of novels.

Can't wait to see what's next!!


----------



## RangerWickett

It's like Twin Peaks.  I love it, I know it's brilliant, but I have almost no idea what just happened.  So, please, remind us of all the details when you get a chance.  Mainly, how did you know Grey Wolf was supposed to be there and die?  And what did the Eyes of Moirel and traveling nowhere have to do with this?  Ack.  Too many old hints and foreshadowings.  

Sagiro, you wouldn't happen to be an illustrator, would you?  Or if not, do you have aspirations for writing comics?


----------



## Lord Pendragon

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> * And what did the Eyes of Moirel and traveling nowhere have to do with this? *




My guess is that that part is yet to come.  The Black Circle's been defeated, but Naradawk Skewn is still in that alternate prime, and he's probably still battering at the barriers the Archmages have been holding shut.  The Black Circle was working a short-cut, but with Naradawk alive and kicking, he's still a threat.

So the Company's going to have to track down another Eye of Moirel so they can pass into the alternate material and take care of the problem for good. 

[Edit] Unless the red-armored soldier who was torn apart _was_ Naradawk...  [/edit]


----------



## Little_Buddha

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 141c
> 
> [Aravis] has also seen thousands of dots of light hovering between the planes – all of them planar travelers on the verge of crossing over at the completion of the ritual.  Strangely, only about two dozen are likely to come out in this particular vicinity.*




The other thousands have also been dismembered, right?


----------



## Carnifex

Woohoo! A truly glorious victory - congratulations to the party!


----------



## madriel

_Was_ that Naradawk?  Either way, that was simply amazing.  It was really cool how Kay's last-ditch effort paid off.  For us at least.  Were you really hoping Mokad would make it out, Sagiro, or were you happy to let the party finally nail him?


----------



## KidCthulhu

As we have for so many other victories over big, long standing enemies, we were all muttering around the table "Drop, drop, drop!  Drop, damn you, die!"

Sometimes this strange ritual actually works.


----------



## Scorch

*Missing Sessions 130 to 135?*

Hi all,

Love your story hour, Sagiro, I just finished reading through the archives up to session 129 and came here to finish up to the most recent session.  Unfortunately I noticed that this story hour starts at something like session 135 or 136.  Do you know when the missing sessions will be posted on the archive web page or are they available elsewhere?  

Thanks,

Scorch


----------



## Sagiro

*Re: Missing Sessions 130 to 135?*



			
				Scorch said:
			
		

> *Hi all,
> 
> Love your story hour, Sagiro, I just finished reading through the archives up to session 129 and came here to finish up to the most recent session.  Unfortunately I noticed that this story hour starts at something like session 135 or 136.  Do you know when the missing sessions will be posted on the archive web page or are they available elsewhere?
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> Scorch *




Hey Scorch,

You can read everything but the final couple of runs here.  The couple of runs not yet posted on my website can be found on the recent pages of this thread.

Some confusion might be coming from the fact that the Story Hour Part XXX numbers here are different from the "Run XXX" numbers on my website.  But either way, everything up to the present can be found in one of those two places.

Hope that helps, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

-Sagiro


----------



## Scorch

It does.  Thanks, just caught up!  Excellent story hour!

Scorch


----------



## Sialia

Dranko, as he appeared at first level.


----------



## Sialia

Kay, at 1st level


----------



## Piratecat

Thank you, Sialia! Hooray; my copy of Dranko's picture disappeared when my PC caught on fire.  Cute little bugger, isn't he?


----------



## Carnifex

Those are cool pics!

Got any more?


----------



## Sialia

I'm sorry I don't have one of cheerful, happy Ernie giving baked goods to the poor, or looking naively perplexed at one of Dranko's crude remarks. That's how I usually think of him.

But the only drawing I've got is this one. 

This is the other way I remember him: "We halflings are a doughty folk when roused. And brother, am I roused!"

They don't call him "Ernest" without good reason.


----------



## Sialia

Morningstar, Shield of Ell


----------



## madriel

Very cool pix, Sialia.


----------



## target

*doin' that bump thang*

Off the front page?  Impossible!

Be very afraid of things that go "bump" in the night.

- target


----------



## Sialia

Flicker


----------



## Plane Sailing

I never realised that flicker looked so cute


----------



## Piratecat

Me either! Wow, that's amazing... I'd never seen it before!


----------



## KidCthulhu

That Flicker, he certainly is cute.  There's a reason why we forgive him for all his crazy schemes.

Also, it's worth noting that Flicker and Ernie are about the human equivalent of 17 now.  Neither has reached the halfling age of majority.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

What in the world was this thread doing on the _second page_?!


----------



## Sagiro

Hey Sialia, those pictures are great!  I remember the ones of Dranko and Kay, but not those for Morningstar and Flicker.  (Ernie's looks familiar, but I'm not sure if I'd actually seen it before.)  I especially like Flicker; you really capture the cute innocence that he tries to keep plastered on his face at all times to hide whatever it is he's scheming at the moment.

Morningstar's player recently mentioned to me that she thinks Morningstar basically looks like the character Switch from The Matrix.  

I'd love it if you felt like drawing more of these.  

Oh, and in case anyone hasn't seen them already, the rest of you should go look at some of Sialia's more Cthulhoid efforts on this thread.   In particular, the illustrated Hungry Monster story-book must be seen to be believed.

-Sagiro


----------



## Fade

So are the Company going to continue on to solve the loose ends and unresolved injustices, or is this really the end?


----------



## KidCthulhu

This is the end of the first attempt to bring the Emperor through.  There will be more.  Look at the _Commune_ Morningstar cast a few runs ago.  The divine answer was pretty clear about this trick working "this time"

I think the Company's next task, after training, and a flurry of magic item creation (Ernie needs a _Fly_ item SO badly), will be to go to Kivia, recover the third Eye of Morel, and go Nowhere.  From there, we suspect we can use the Focus, the Maze, the Opener, the Light and the Eyes to disconnect the connection between the two planes, finally removing the weak points between the worlds.  The archmagi can then retire to a beach somewhere (all except the one in the Mouth of Nahalm, who's probably had enough sand).

Then we just have to deal with Parthol, who wants the Spire dead with or without the Emperor, that wierd Slayer prophecy, Shreen the Fair, destroy the Guild of Chains, Save the halflings of Appleseed and...

Did I get everything?


----------



## Rel

I have had little time to keep up with my favorite story hours in the last two weeks and just caught up.

WOW.

To say, "Nice work, Sagiro." is such a vast understatement, but you don't have all day to listen to me gush (and sadly, I don't have all day to gush anyway).

Kudos to all involved.  You guys are the embodiment of what I strive for in my games.


----------



## Ancalagon

Ernie has mobility issues?

I can imagine... I just took the Dash feat for a Dwarf PC of mine, and he isn't even wearing heavy armor.

Boots of striding and springing would be nice.

Ancalagon


----------



## LightPhoenix

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *Then we just have to deal with Parthol, who wants the Spire dead with or without the Emperor, that wierd Slayer prophecy, Shreen the Fair, destroy the Guild of Chains, Save the halflings of Appleseed and...
> *




Find out why the cats want Aravis so badly


----------



## Carnifex

Ancalagon said:
			
		

> *
> 
> I just took the Dash feat for a Dwarf PC of mine, and he isn't even wearing heavy armor.
> *




??? Well that's a relief, since Dash has no effect if you *are* wearing heavy armour...

Anyway, Sagiro, great story! More!


----------



## Piratecat

_Note: this thread needs trimming, but the boards are too busy right now.  Sagiro or I will delete extraneous threads when it slows up.

Second note: Sagiro, will you please change the link to your web page in the very first post? It still points to the dead mediaone.
_
I haven't updated my own story hour yet, so here's something for Sagiro's; after Sialia's art, I have to scramble for anything half as good!  But I might have succeeded.  

Linked below is a mp3 of Sagiro doing the voice for Shreen the Fair. You remember Shreen (from run 88, right here); in Kivia, he was the priest of Dralla, Goddess of Abominations, who gave us the clue to finding the Crosser's Maze. He's also the creepiest person we've ever met.


Eyes peer out from the darkness all around them, and the air is full of whispers. A humanoid shape approaches out of the darkness; it appears to be a horribly disfigured man, limping, with a hunched back and one eye covered by his own drooping brow. In a coarse whispering voice, he introduces himself as Shreen the Fair, Night-Master of the Temple of the Dark Mother. The party greets him, and when he asks why they have come, they ask him straight away about the Crosser’s’ Maze.  

Shreen answers. As he talks, his voice fluctuates, sometimes a cracked whisper, sometimes pleasant and normal, and sometimes rising into a harsh scream. When his voice rises, many rasping and hooting cackles come from the darkness all around them, making it evident that the party is surrounded by dozens of unseen creatures.
Now you can hear his voice!

http://www.folded.com/defenders/shreen the fair.mp3

Warning: the file is 279K, and you might have to download it; when I try to play it through Windows, I at first only got the first seven seconds, but it seems to work fine now.  Also, you may not want to play it loudly at work. It's... disturbing.  Thanks to Blackjack for the help!


----------



## KidCthulhu

PC took Sagiro into the other room to record this clip, but he didn't tell us what they were doing.  We all jumped when we heard Shreen's voice coming from the kitchen.  Talk about conditioned response!


----------



## Swack-Iron

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *PC took Sagiro into the other room to record this clip, but he didn't tell us what they were doing.  We all jumped when we heard Shreen's voice coming from the kitchen.  Talk about conditioned response! *




Heck, I jumped out of my seat here in my living room! Tres cool, tres creepy.


----------



## Carnifex

Wow - _that_ was cool 

Sagiro's story hour - now with sound effects!


----------



## Sagiro

First, I just want to say thank you to all you people who pop in here with nice things to say about the story.  I really do appreciate such comments, even if they give me a swelled head.    Rel has the right idea when he lumps the praise on the players, too; they're absolutely fantastic, and I probably don't tell them often enough in person how much I appreciate their dedication, good nature, fun attitude, and willingness to swallow all the crazy stuff I throw at them.  

But enough with the gushing... on with the story!

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 142a *_

Kibi glances up uncomfortably at the walls and ceiling of this huge room – over 100’ on a side, with no pillars or arches for support.  As a dwarf and former stonemason, he knows this room should be collapsing under its own weight.  He casts _detect magic_ -- and of course it doesn't work, because Grey Wolf is still carrying around the Divination Sink.  They stick it in the _bag of holding_, Kibi casts again, and he sees that all of the walls are glowing with enchantment magic.  He breathes a little easier.  While he’s got the spell up, he does a quick sweep of the room identifying magical loot.  There is plenty on the bodies of the four they fought, but none down in the bloody soup in the lower part of the room.  "Just as well," says Ernie.  "I’m not into looting with a sieve." 

Kay flies up through the hole in the roof, to get a better sense of just what this ritual room is below.  She discovers that the retractable roof opens into a courtyard nestled nicely in the center of several city-estates.  It looks like it abuts three different properties – those belonging to Lord Southinghorn, Lady Canterrin, and "that nice old chap" Lord Cosnor.

With many party members low on health after the fight, and nearly out of spells, the Company decides to burn a few more charges of their _wands of cure serious wounds_.  Shaking their heads at how many total charges they’ve used, they estimate that since they were made, those wands have cured over 1,100 hit points of party damage!

Ernie takes some of the remaining soldiers and goes upstairs to see what has become of Cobb.  He finds signs of heavy fighting throughout the upper level of the Black Circle complex – over 20 dead house guards from the Silent Quarter, along with 14 of Cobb’s men and 6 priestesses of Ell.  But Cobb still lives, his unconscious body tended by two Ellish clerics who also survived the battle.  Together with two other injured city guards, the five of them are the only survivors of the skirmish.  The clerics are out of healing magic, so Ernie uses more charges from a healing wand to restore Cobb.  The guard captain opens his eyes, sees Ernie, and says, "Oh, hell, they killed you too?"

"No!"  Ernie says cheerily.  "We’re alive.  And we won!  We beat the Black Circle, and they’re the ones who are dead."

Cobb looks around, the truth dawning on him.  "Hot damn!" he says, breaking into a grin.

Down in the Ritual Room, Dranko has spotted a door in the lower chamber, semi-concealed by the patterns of stonework.  It seems that there’s more to discover down here, but the Company knows from experience that the door is probably trapped.   Sure enough, Kibi detects strong abjuration magic.  Out of other useful spells, and not wanting to subject Flicker to the risk, Morningstar casts one of her few remaining spells, _summoning_ an octopus which Dranko then heaves against the door.   As it strikes, it triggers the _harm glyph_, and wounds open up all over the body of the poor sea creature.  It writhes in pain for a few seconds before Dranko puts it out of its misery with his mace.  All of the clerics wince, and look up to the heavens in an apologetic manner.  It’s not their finest moment.  Dranko swings the door open.

Beyond is a straight hallway, lit with _continual flame_ torches.  It goes on for over eighty feet, and ends at another door.  There are two doors on either side of the hallway as well, making five in all.

Little does the Company know just what a hall of horrors it is they are about to explore…

…to be continued…


----------



## coyote6

Is that "horrors" as in "indescribable atrocities and offenses against all that is good and decent", or as in "should never have started down the hall without full hp & a full complement of spells"?


----------



## Kaodi

PirateCat, that is truly Sagiro doing that voice, and not some otherworldly being? That was creepy, REALLY creepy. I just wish that I could do voices like that.


----------



## Piratecat

Oh yeah, that's him! Here he is doing the voice for Scree, Kibi's earth elemental familiar.  This is pretty much what we heard when we sent the Xorn down to scoop up the divination sink under Kallor (WHANG!).

http://www.folded.com/defenders/scree.mp3


----------



## madriel

coyote6 said:
			
		

> *Is that "horrors" as in "indescribable atrocities and offenses against all that is good and decent", or as in "should never have started down the hall without full hp & a full complement of spells"?
> 
> *




Bah, prudence is for sissies.  A true Adventurer pursues evil at all times, even when they're half-dead and out of spells.

Old Adventurers never die, they just never live to get old!


----------



## KidCthulhu

coyote6 said:
			
		

> *Is that "horrors" as in "indescribable atrocities and offenses against all that is good and decent", or as in "should never have started down the hall without full hp & a full complement of spells"?
> *




Conveniently enough, he means both!


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 142b *_

Flicker bravely volunteers to try disarming the magical traps detected on four of the five of the interior doors, knowing the painful price of failure.  He gets the first three, but an ill-timed sneeze while working on the last one sets off the _harm glyph_.  Ernie is waiting with the healing wand, and Flicker’s agony is short-lived.

Dranko first opens the near door on the right – the one that wasn’t trapped.   It opens into a small room containing only a cot and a magical pitcher that never runs out of water.  After a bit of searching fails to turn up anything sinister, Dranko tries the nearest door on the left.

The room beyond is also not large, maybe 20’ on a side.  It  is full of shifting shadows, though there is no obvious light source inside.  A grey metal cauldron squats in the center of the room, filled with either a black vapor or a black liquid.  It’s hard for Dranko to say which, because when he feels the familiar chill and wave of unease indicative of proximate Null Shadows, he slams the door as fast as he can and puts his back to it.   "I think I know what’s in there," he says, his face pale.   When no Null Shadows come out of the room in the next few moments, the party decides to check the other doors before dealing with the cauldron.  

Some thirty feet down the hall, Dranko opens the other door on the left-hand side of the hallway.   It creaks open revealing another smallish room, stone walls and floor, slightly larger than the one with the cauldron.   There is a small round pit in the center of the floor, perhaps four feet in diameter.  Suspended above this pit is a small iron cage, hanging from the ceiling by a metal chain, and in the cage is a chunk of black rock.  Dranko doesn’t need to cast _detect evil_; he can _feel_ that the rock is evil, just by standing there.  Greasy vapors waft up from the pit, playing over the cage and the black stone.

There is another chain linked to the cage, and at the other end of the second chain is a metal ring clamped tightly around the head of a man.  The man, unshaven and filthy, is curled up in the fetal position in a corner of the room.  Around him on the floor are scattered empty flasks, just like the ones filled with green liquid that the party found earlier in the magically-protected cabinet of the alchemy lab on the floor above.   Black energy plays along both chains.

The party is hesitant to go into the room, but Ernie cannot stand to see the man suffering.  He runs into the room despite the party’s protests.  As he passes by the pit, he sees that it is full of a thick mostly-clear oil, and that several objects are suspended therein.  But he ignores that for now, and goes to check on the bedraggled victim.  Ernie reaches out and touches the man’s shoulder, and the man stirs, turns slowly, and lifts his head.   Dranko, watching from the door, gasps in shock.  He knows this man.  His hair is longer, his bones thinner, and he didn’t have a beard when Dranko last saw him, but there’s no mistaking him.  It’s Califax.

The black iron ring is affixed so tightly to Califax’s head that they cannot loosen or pry it, but an _enlarge_ spell causes it to come free.  It takes a layer of skin with it, leaving a red band around his head.   They carry him out and take him to the room with the cot, where Ernie spends another charge of healing wand, and trickles some water into his mouth.  Califax has said nothing coherent, producing only moaning noises and occasional snippets of babble.  Morningstar casts _detect thoughts_, but Califax is deranged.  When Dranko and Ernie try to make it clear that the Black Circle has been defeated and that he’s safe, Califax’s tortured mind cannot comprehend it, and he thinks it must be a trick, or that he’s not understanding them.  He says something incomprehensible, and Morningstar, reading his mind, says he’s trying to say "You have to stop them!  You must stop them!"

While some stay tending to Califax, the others go back to take a look in the oily pit.  Dranko drops a magical light source into it, and the light sinks about halfway down before stopping.  It illuminates a folded up piece of paper, which Kibi lifts out with a _mage hand_ spell.  Neither oil nor paper detects as magic, so they unfold it on the floor of the room.  It’s a chart of magic schools; there’s one like it in apprentice wizards’ rooms in mage guilds across the kingdom.  Aravis, Grey Wolf and Kibi have all seen numerous posters like this one, showing the relationships between schools of magic, which ones oppose other ones, and what basic hand-gestures form the roots of casting.  Grey Wolf takes a closer look, when he sees a slight tear on one corner.  The chart he had in his room studying under his master Melido had the same tear.  It also had the same discolored spot from a misfired _ray of frost_, and the same pattern of creases…

There’s no mistake.  It _is_ the poster from Grey Wolf’s room as a young student, so many years ago.  It's here, now, in this Black Circle den of abominations.  But why would they have gone through the trouble of...

The resurrection!  Califax had warned the Company that the Black Circle had some means of resurrecting Grey Wolf against his will, should he die.   Grey Wolf looks up again at the evil black rock hanging over the pit, and the Company realizes the terrible purpose of this room.  

They move on to the door at the end of the hall, wondering if what's beyond it could possibly be worse...

...to be continued...


----------



## Plane Sailing

Sagiro,

I just want to say that I love the thread which has woven through here of the redemption of Califax. I think the theme of redemption is woefully underused in most fantasy where the bad guys remain blacker than black - your plots rise above that, and in no clearer way than the matter of Califax. 

Bravo!


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 142c *_

Dranko takes a deep breath, wonders for a minute why _he’s_ the one opening all these doors, and pulls the handle.  It opens, and a wave of such malevolent and overpowering evil comes out of the room that Dranko drops unconscious on the spot.  The others, standing back from the door, not only can feel the evil pouring from the room, but cannot even look straight at the doorway, as if the evil is a blinding light shining out from the opening.  Alarmed, they drag Dranko’s body away from the door and slam it shut.  The evil hangs in the air like an after-image for a few seconds.  

Perhaps that door can wait until tomorrow.

Dranko comes around soon enough, and describes what he saw in the room before he was knocked out.  He remembers seeing walls lined with bookshelves, all heaped with books and scrolls.  In the center of the room was a large, thick wooden table.  And around the corner to the left, where he couldn’t see, there was…  something.  Just the memory causes him pain.

The last of the five doors turns out to be much less dire.  It reveals a tiny room, hardly more than a closet, with a large crank-handle protruding from the wall.  On the floor near the wall with the handle is a pile of crumbled obsidian.  Dranko surmises that the broken rock was some sort of construct that turned the crank, and that the crank opened the retractable roof above the Black Circle’s ritual pit.  The construct must have fallen apart when the Black Circle "power supply" shut off.   Aravis _polymorphs_ himself into an ogre, and turns the heavy crank until the roof draws closed.

The party sends Cobb (now feeling downright spry after being healed and learning the details of the Black Circle’s downfall) to report what has happened to Rhiavonne, and to let her know that there is still some unfinished business that will have to wait until tomorrow.   The priestesses of Ell who were dispatched to check the estates come back to report general confusion on the surface.  Servants and some guards are milling around, not entirely sure of what they’ve been doing recently, or why.  A few servants, finding their lords not at home and sensing that they aren’t coming back, are having an impromptu feast using some of the best silver to eat some of the best stuff from the larders.  Three of the Lords – Lord Cosnor, Lady Canterrin and Lord Southinghorn -- have definitely gone missing, and come to think of it, haven’t been seen for days.

The party prepares to spend the night sleeping in the safety of _rope trick_ spells.  Morningstar casts a _sending_ to Eddings, giving him a short message to give to Ozilinsh regarding current events.  Eddings, who hasn’t been the recipient of a _sending_ in all this time, wastes a few of his 25 words being puzzled, before promising Morningstar that he’ll try reaching their patron archmage on the crystal ball.

Then Morningstar prepares to enter Ava Dormo.  Two nights ago she dreamt that she should go to the temple of the Illuminated Sisters in Ava Dormo two nights hence, and now that’s tonight.  Aravis decides to watch Morningstar using the Crosser’s Maze, to see if he can learn anything about Ava Dormo.  His mind slides into the Maze, and he draws his attention inward toward Morningstar, trying to find her in the dreaming plane.

Morningstar appears outside the temple buildings.  Unlike last time, there is not a large crowd of sisters training for dream-battle, but Previa is there having a discussion with half a dozen other Dreamwalkers.  She spies Morningstar, excuses herself from the others, and walks across the field to meet her.

"So you are here, after all," Previa says.  Her demeanor is calm and steady as always, but Morningstar can tell that something unusual has happened recently that she is itching to tell.

"I had a dream that I should come here tonight, but I don’t know the source," Morningstar says.  "Do you know something about it?"

"Yes, I think so.  You have a visitor.  She is… a priestess of Ell, I think.  She is old.  And there is something strange about her.  She is waiting for you inside the chapel."

Morningstar walks inside the darkened building and straight through to the chapel.  At its far end, looking up at a statue of Ell below an inverted black triangle, is an old woman, short, in her 50’s or 60’s at least.   Her short hair is a pale white color, which makes her different from all other Ellish priestesses, save for Morningstar herself.

The woman turns around.  "It’s all so… overwhelming.  And maddening, to think that you’ve been here all this time, and She never told me.   But it’s wonderful, too.  You must be Morningstar.   It is an honor to meet you.   My name is Evenstar."

…to be continued…


----------



## madriel

Mama?

...it can't be that simple, can it?


----------



## Sagiro

madriel said:
			
		

> *Mama?
> 
> ...it can't be that simple, can it? *




No, no, it's not that.  Morningstar's mom lives in the city of Kynder Hold, a short ship-journey from Tal Hae.  Morningstar has even visited her on occasion.

When I get home tonight I'll post some previously-unpublished archival material that may shed some light (no pun intended) on Evenstar; it's some passages from old Ellish books that Previa found a couple of years ago, when Morningstar asked her dig up anything she could about this whole "Child of Light" business. 

-Sagiro


----------



## el-remmen

*Catching up. . .*

Ok, so I had fallen way behind and just spent some time cutting & pasting what I missed into a word doc in order to print and read at my leisure. . .

The only problem with doing it this way (and this is how I read the thing from the beginning to _Part 126_) is that I miss everyone’s comments (and it is too much a pain In the ass to paste all that in and read it as well – I’d never get done) – but anyway.  I look forward to catching up – and again let me say that I think of your group as the D&D equivalent of Marvel Comics’ _The Avengers_.  The groups works really well and seems like a real team (as opposed to my “Out of the Frying Pan” group which seems more like _the Defenders_ – quarrelling as the world ends around them  

I will drop by again and let you know what I think of what I’ve read – but in the meantime Sagiro, you should stop by and read my story hour. . .  I think it is great that when you write “And then the party decided to do X…” it would be equivalent of 4 pages of dialogue in my story hour since my party bickers all the time   - but I like it like that (variety is the spice of life) – but anyway, I tend to think of my campaign as “_My Own Sagiro_ "because it really feels like it is the best game I’ve ever run – and your campaign is the best I’ve ever read/heard about.


----------



## Sagiro

*Re: Catching up. . .*



			
				nemmerle said:
			
		

> *I will drop by again and let you know what I think of what I’ve read – but in the meantime Sagiro, you should stop by and read my story hour. . .  I think it is great that when you write “And then the party decided to do X…” it would be equivalent of 4 pages of dialogue in my story hour since my party bickers all the time   - but I like it like that (variety is the spice of life) – but anyway, I tend to think of my campaign as “My Own Sagiro "because it really feels like it is the best game I’ve ever run – and your campaign is the best I’ve ever read/heard about. *




nemmerle, back when I had a bit of free time, yours was one of the few Story Hours I managed to keep up with.  Some day, when my current project at work has shipped (July, in theory), I'll go back to reading Story Hours, and I promise I'll start with yours.  As for your compliments on my game, I do appreciate them, but I'll point out that my campaign isn't even the best one that I'm personally involved with!  You have read Piratecat's Story Hour, yes?  

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

Way back in the campaign, right around the time when the Delfirian invasion was beginning, Morningstar asked the chronicler Previa if she could do some research.  Specifically, she wanted to know if there were any holy writings in the Ellish library pertaining to the whole "Child of Light" business, or at least mentions that it was okay for an Ellish priestess to be active beneath the light of the sun.  After a few days, Previa had dug up these three passages from three different holy books:


"Those that follow Ell shall see the truth hidden in darkness, but truths there are in light that are not less true."

-----

"...for though we shall stand 'neath the moon and be blessed by the Goddess, also we shall stand 'neath the sun and be not burned..."

-----

and finally this bit, a dialogue between an old priestess and a novice, written long ago:

*Priestess:*  "Children of the night are we, and always will the children of the day be more numerous.  We must therefore be ever watchful, for the day-kind will mistrust us, and at times use the light as a spear to blind us."

*Novice: * "But should we not then become children of the dawn, with the night as a shield in one hand, and our own spears of light in the other?  We should not fear the day-kind."

*Priestess:*  "Indeed.  In time, we must have guards beneath the morning star and the evening star, else our dreams become nightmares."


----------



## el-remmen

*Re: Re: Catching up. . .*



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> 
> nemmerle, back when I had a bit of free time, yours was one of the few Story Hours I managed to keep up with.  Some day, when my current project at work has shipped (July, in theory), I'll go back to reading Story Hours, and I promise I'll start with yours.  As for your compliments on my game, I do appreciate them, but I'll point out that my campaign isn't even the best one that I'm personally involved with!  You have read Piratecat's Story Hour, yes?
> 
> -Sagiro *




But I like your better!  

But seriously, as Kevin knows, I just sample from his story hour - popping in occasionally to see how he uses the ideas us Rat Bastards pitch to him    - But in terms of the story and characters I "get into" your game a lot more (maybe I ust don't like all that planar stuff)

I've had players say "goddamn you, Sagiro" as we've played, convinced that I stole an idea from you - but God knows I would _never_ do that. 


. . . except for the poison incense,  

oh, and the promises for raising the dead 

oh, and.  um. . . you get the idea


----------



## Lord Pendragon

So when is the next session?


----------



## littlejohn

*fan art*

Gosh, what a great read. 

I thought I'd post some fan art I made: a character portrait of Morningstar [31KB jpg]. Thanks Sagiro and players for all the inspiration.


----------



## TheDayKnight

She kinda of reminds me of Storm from the X-men. Great art though!


----------



## (contact)

*!!!*

David-- you rock!  The portrait of Morningstar is fantastic!


----------



## el-remmen

So, I've caught up and I have to say I was little dissapointed that none of the PCs died in that last confrontation - esp. Grey Wolf - Now from a game perspective if the PCs were clever enough to figure out how to keep from dying and keep Grey Wolf from dying that is totally cool and great - but from a story perspective I guess I am into heroic sacrifice or just plain old tragedy.

Then again, they still seem to have some evil left to deal with in this place and in general with the remaining plot threads - so perhaps I will still get my wish


----------



## Rel

You know, Nemm, I feel sort of the same.  Not that I have any ill will toward Grey Wolf, but I had sort of mentally prepared myself for his demise (and I also figured that there was no way that Sagiro would let him be resurected).

But I can also appreciate the "plot-twisty-expect-the-unexpected" aspect of this turn of events as well.

What I'm really looking forward to is how the campaign progresses from here.  In my experience from 20+ years of gaming, once the party saves the universe, everything else seems pretty old hat.  But I have seldom seen so masterful a story teller as Sagiro.  If anybody can pull that off, it's him.

I do have a pretty good idea as to what happens in the immediate future:

_Scribe/Sage - "Excuse me heroes, but, in the interest of historical accuracy, now that you've saved the world from certain disaster, what will you do?"

Dranko - "I'M GOIN' TA' DISNEYWORLD!!"

Scribe/Sage - "Disneyworld?  I've never heard of such a place.  Is it located on the Prime Material Plane?  What does one do in 'Disneyworld'?"

Dranko - "Mostly get thrown out after licking Minnie Mouse in an inappropriate way."

Scribe/Sage - "Perhaps I should talk to Morningstar..."_


----------



## KidCthulhu

Great portrait of Morningstar.  I'm going to have to point the player to that.

Don't worry guys, this is only part one of many world saves.  And as for Greywolf or anyone else dying, you should remember that at least 2 party members were knocked unconscious during the battle, and only fast flying and a Wand of Cure Serious Saved their bacon.  Sagiro told me afterwards that there was a very small chance that we would hit on the one plan that could save Greywolf.  We just got very clever and very lucky.

We play again this Sunday, so stay tuned.


----------



## Dinkeldog

Woohoo!  More gaming!

Mostly because I don't comment unless I disagree strongly with someone, I'll take exception to Nemmerle's comment: 







> but from a story perspective I guess I am into heroic sacrifice or just plain old tragedy.




I'm about the exact opposite.  Heroic sacrifice and just plain old tragedy of this nature is only good if a) the player knows up front or b) the player is leaving the game and the DM wants the departure to be final or dramatic.  I would be rather pissed if I started a game in good faith and the DM just decided that my death was necessary to story line without talking to me first.


----------



## el-remmen

Dinkeldog said:
			
		

> *Woohoo!  More gaming!
> 
> Mostly because I don't comment unless I disagree strongly with someone, I'll take exception to Nemmerle's comment:
> 
> I'm about the exact opposite.  Heroic sacrifice and just plain old tragedy of this nature is only good if a) the player knows up front or b) the player is leaving the game and the DM wants the departure to be final or dramatic.  I would be rather pissed if I started a game in good faith and the DM just decided that my death was necessary to story line without talking to me first. *




But, Dinky. how am I supposed to know Sagiro didn't talk with Grey Wolf's player?

And when  I mentioned the story perspective I meant as someone reading a story not someone playing in one.


----------



## Piratecat

Good news: we just played, and it was a great game!

Bad news: Sagiro is a designer for Irrational Games, and his current project (The Lost) is nearing completion. That means he's working long, long hours, seven days a week, for about the next two months.  The campaign, and the story hour, won't disappear... but it will slow down for a while. Stay faithful.

As for killing Greywolf, I think Nemmerle is dead wrong. What happened is actually more heroic than killing Greywolf, which was the main plan we had prepared for. Instead, Aravis managed to hyit on possibly the one other method, disconnecting Greywolf from the very planes. In order to do so, _everyone_ had to sacrifice life energy (XP) - and I'd rather do that than have one person die.  We were clever, or at least we tried to be; I'm glad Sagiro didn't penalize us for that.


----------



## el-remmen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *
> 
> As for killing Greywolf, I think Nemmerle is dead wrong. What happened is actually more heroic than killing Greywolf, which was the main plan we had prepared for. Instead, Aravis managed to hyit on possibly the one other method, disconnecting Greywolf from the very planes. In order to do so, everyone had to sacrifice life energy (XP) - and I'd rather do that than have one person die.  We were clever, or at least we tried to be; I'm glad Sagiro didn't penalize us for that. *




Again, allow me to re-iterate - It was not so much that I *wanted* Greywolf to die, or that I think *he* should have died - but maybe that someone important might have died - and this is just from a "reading the story of the events" point of view - from a gaming point of view _of course_ if the PCs are clever and inventive they deserve to win and have none of them die.


----------



## Kaodi

*Irrational Games*

Hey, aren' t they the guys and gals that put out Freedom Force? I have that game demo on my computer right now! Just got it on the PC Gamer disk about 2 days ago. It is neat that Sagiro works there...


----------



## Piratecat

*Re: Irrational Games*



			
				Kaodi said:
			
		

> *Hey, aren' t they the guys and gals that put out Freedom Force? I have that game demo on my computer right now! Just got it on the PC Gamer disk about 2 days ago. It is neat that Sagiro works there... *




Sagiro does two voices on Freedom Force: Deja Vu (the bad guy who can split himself into multiple copies) and the Praetor of Lord Dominion, who you hear in The Mentor's origin story. Cool, eh?


----------



## dpdx

*Re: Re: Irrational Games*



			
				Piratecat said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Sagiro does two voices on Freedom Force: Deja Vu (the bad guy who can split himself into multiple copies) and the Praetor of Lord Dominion, who you hear in The Mentor's origin story. Cool, eh? *




Muy Cool. My DM won't shut up about how excellent that game is.

Can't wait to tell him.


----------



## thatdarncat

Hey, we just discovered that game last week  Cool!


----------



## Kaodi

*Freedom Force*

The only thing I do not like about Freedom Force is that it is so... American... Other than that though, it is beautiful, though I probably won't be in the market for it for awhile, I would like to get the full version some day.


----------



## Piratecat

*Re: Freedom Force*



			
				Kaodi said:
			
		

> *The only thing I do not like about Freedom Force is that it is so... American.*




Ironic. It was designed and produced at the Australian office.    anyways, I'll be amazed if soeone hasn't created a skin with a Maple Leaf on it.

Sagiro, quick! Update before I hijack the thread again!


----------



## KidCthulhu

*Re: Freedom Force*



			
				Kaodi said:
			
		

> *The only thing I do not like about Freedom Force is that it is so... American *




I think that's a deliberate and tongue in cheek choice.  It's embracing that silver age comic book, 1950's retro feeling.  It's supposed to be ironic, all the men have cleft chins and all the women wear pearls and look like Jackie O.  It ends up being very funny.


----------



## Blackjack

*Re: Re: Freedom Force*



			
				KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *I think that's a deliberate and tongue in cheek choice.  It's embracing that silver age comic book, 1950's retro feeling. *




This was certainly how I read it -- the game's unabashedly Silver Age, and that means Captain America and all the other Americana.

And as for PCat's comment, yeah, I do know I've seen a Canadian skin for the game out there somewhere.


----------



## Duncan Haldane

*Re: Re: Freedom Force*



			
				Piratecat said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Ironic. It was designed and produced at the Australian office.   *




Yep!  A friend of mine worked on it. 

Duncan


----------



## KidCthulhu

So, given that Sagiro is slightly MIA, would anyone be interested in snippet's from Ernie's diary?  He kept it while we were in Kivia, as a running letter to his mom.  It would be a repeat of plot we've already had, but might be amusing.


----------



## Kesho

KidCthulhu - 

Speaking as a long time lurker - the more story the better!

I have always enjoyed reading about familiar stories from other perspectives and I'm sure that Ernie's POV will be interesting!


--shameless gush warning--
And I must say that this hearty band of adventurers provide an enormous amount of enjoyment to myself and, I'm sure, all of the other readers here.  I have to admit that I've been gaming vicariously through your group since I found these story hours!

Thanks!


----------



## Plane Sailing

Hey KidC - post those diary entries!

- just so long as it isn't a list of interesting kivian receipes 

(on the other hand )


----------



## Rune

Actually, I wouldn't mind seeing some Kivian recipies!


----------



## Dawn

Kivian recipies......
A story update......
An interesting personal story from the weekend.......

Something!
We are dying out here!


----------



## wolff96

You know, this is probably as close as I will ever be to experiencing life as a heroin addict... my dealer is MIA and I'm going into withdrawal.

Worse still, ALL of my favorites are currently on hiatus.


----------



## Nail

.....Tell me about it!   Aaaaaaa...........<scream of despair slowly fades into the distance.......>

-*Nail*


----------



## Caliber

Speaking of ... well, speaking of nothing I guess ...

What ever happened to Tor's Storyhour? I found it very engaging but it didn' t last long ...

Ah well. Looking forward to your return Sagiro.


----------



## Tor Bladebearer

Sorry for the diversion off topic, but...

Alas, much like Sagiro's current absence, I have been sucked up in trying to finish Age of Mythology, my current game in Real Life.  Add that to dealing with a young child in the house (my first born is 15 months old now)... well, didn't leave a lot of time for running a campaign.  

There is actually one run we did that I never posted the Story Hour on that I may dust of my notes for and try and post sometime.  I am hoping to restore the run (though maybe with a bit of a continuity hitch) either this Summer or more likely, after AOM ships in the fall.

The party had really only just finished the very prologue of my story, so I'd really like to return to the vast reams of plotting and world-building I had ready to go... 

-- Tor aka Xemu aka Rob Fermier


----------



## Caliber

Sorry about the hijack Sagiro. I really like the story and you can delete these posts when you come back. That aside ...

Congratulations on the baby. You don't have to tell me how tough it can be. If you ever get a chance, know that I will happily be looking forward to your story hour's return.


----------



## Piratecat

Hey Tor!  Good to see you back.  Give my love to wife and baby.  In saying first born, you imply a second born...  

When's the game out?  Or is it already.  I've fallen away from industry news.


----------



## Tor Bladebearer

Ha, maybe all this hijacking will force Sagiro to return!  

Age of Mythology should be on shelves in October, which means we have a scant 4 more months or so to finish it up!  Yoikes!  So Sagiro's likely to beat me in the "get to store shelves" race...

Alas, no second little one... yet... one is more than enough to keep both parents busy!!  Maybe once he learns to talk I can start teaching him how to play RPGs... but for now he's mostly just trying to eat the dice.     Just think, 10 years from now we'll have to have the "Children of the Company / Defenders" run with all our RL children playing the roles... 

-- Tor aka Xemu


----------



## Carnifex

There's an interesting idea; will either Piratecat or Sagiro be submitting their game worlds as setting proposals to WotC?


----------



## Piratecat

Carnifex said:
			
		

> *There's an interesting idea; will either Piratecat or Sagiro be submitting their game worlds as setting proposals to WotC? *




Since we're hijacking....

My game world is entirely too generic. I think I will submit a proposal, but it will be for a world with considerably more built-in drama. I don't kid myself that my game is fun due to an inherently well-constructed campaign world; rather, it has accreted over time, bits and pieces stolen from a hundred different sources. I think that our game is fun because of the stories and players, not really the setting they use as a backdrop, and that's harder to translate.

Sagiro could do this. He's a better designer than I am. It's a shame he's so busy right now!


----------



## KidCthulhu

Ahem.  As promised, here are the excerpts from Ernie's diary, kept while the party was in Kivia.  All grammar and diction are Ernie's.  Spellling errors are probably mine.

This diary begins in the dwarven tunnels.  You all remember them, right?  Ogres, ropers, half-fiend things, badness all around.  Good, let's begin.

Dear Mother [Ernie kept the diary as a running letter to his mom.  All you freudians can just shut yer pie holes.]

How are you?  I am fine.  Things are very interesting here in Tev (sp?).  There are halflings here.  They come from a place called Appleseed, and they are very different from us in Dingman's Ferry [Ernie's home town].  They are fighting a war against some big 'uns who want to take their land.  Yondalla defends them well, but they are a fighting people, and do not get to enjoy the small joys of life.  That said, I only hope and belive that we of Dingman's Ferry would be so brave in their place.

We have had a very interesting time here.  I cannot begin to describe the many people and places I've seen.  The city of D'Jah is the largest and most splendid place I've ever seen.  Two Tal Hai's could fit inside it and have room for more.  

The food here is very good, but very different from our food.  They do not roast and boil, and their bread is flat and has no leven.  They cut the food up very small and cook it in a very hot pan.  I will cook some of it for you and father when I come home.  You will like it once you get used to it.


----------



## KidCthulhu

_Ernie's Diary Continued..._

Right now, my friends and I (Kay says hello) are in some tunnels.  The tunnels used to be home to a kingdom of dwarves.  The dwarves had to flee from a monster who had invaded their home.  We need to get through the tunnels to get to the other side of the mountains, but I hope that we can get rid of the evil which lives here and give the dwarves back their home.  

The dwarves in this place are slaves, which is just terrible!  They are very sad, and have no hope.  We tried to free on of them, and he actually asked to be returned to slavery because if he were missed the slavers would go back to his village and take his family.  I really hate slavers.  

Apparently the halflings tried to free the dwarves hundreds of years ago, bu they could not hold against the slavers and the big 'uns trying to take their land.  When we are done here, we intend to free the dwarves.  It's the right thing to do.

But I was talking about the dwarven tunnels.  We are trying to find a way through to get to a jungle on the other side.  In the jungle we hope to find a magical item called the Crosser's Maze.  We don't know where it is, or even what it is.  But our bosses need it, so here we are.


----------



## thatdarncat

ernielicous!


----------



## Aravis

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *
> But I was talking about the dwarven tunnels.  We are trying to find a way through to get to a jungle on the other side.  In the jungle we hope to find a magical item called the Crosser's Maze.  We don't know where it is, or even what it is.  But our bosses need it, so here we are. *




Sigh...we were so naive...

-- Aravis


----------



## Dinkeldog

I liked the info on the food.  Definitely what's nearest to a halfling's heart.


----------



## Plane Sailing

Whenever I read Ernie, he comes over absolutely as "old school hobbit", rather than the gypsy toddlers with amazing strength that 3e portrays as halflings 

I think that a lot is missed by not having the home-and-hearth loving little folk who are nonetheless doughty when roused!


----------



## KidCthulhu

I agree with you completely, Plane.  3e halflings are one of my only gripes with the system.  Dumb, dumb, dumb.  

Ernie is definitely a halfling in the Tolkein-y sense.  He was created to be 75% Sam and 25% Frodo (all the mysticism, none of the whining).  I'm glad you like him.  He's a role playing challenge for me.  It's hard not to get the dirty jokes, to never swear, and to be nice to people all the time.  If it weren't for that "doughy when roused", I'd probably go mad.


----------



## Fade

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *If it weren't for that "doughy when roused", I'd probably go mad. *




Ernie always seemed relatively brave to me. Oh well, halflings.


----------



## Ciaran

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *If it weren't for that "doughy when roused", I'd probably go mad. *



Given that he's a cook, I suppose this makes sense.  Perhaps this is the Yondallan form of transubstantiation?

- Eric


----------



## Aravis

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *I agree with you completely, Plane.  3e halflings are one of my only gripes with the system.  Dumb, dumb, dumb.
> 
> Ernie is definitely a halfling in the Tolkein-y sense.  He was created to be 75% Sam and 25% Frodo (all the mysticism, none of the whining).  I'm glad you like him.  He's a role playing challenge for me.  It's hard not to get the dirty jokes, to never swear, and to be nice to people all the time.  If it weren't for that "doughy when roused", I'd probably go mad. *




Gee, and I thought he was 50% Sam, 25% Frodo, and 25% Frito...

I agree completely about 3E halflings though.  I much prefer the somewhat unwilling adventurer, yet perfectly suited for it when they actually make it out into the big wide world model of hobbit.


(oh yeah, and Pudgy not svelt!)

-- Aravis


----------



## Plane Sailing

Aravis said:
			
		

> *
> (oh yeah, and Pudgy not svelt!)
> 
> *




Exactly! The skinny new halflings look like humans with some strange photographic effect to shrink them (OK, that's forgetting the bizarre egg-shaped head too )

It seems to me that Kender were much more of the role-models for this new breed of halfling - and I think they would have been better to have bitten the bullet and created a new race like the kender and allowed the good old hobbit/halfling to continue as he was. Ten square meals a day, that's what REAL hobbits are about!

Plane (born to be a hobbit) Sailing


----------



## KidCthulhu

Kender, blaugh.  Kleptos with ponytails.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Ernie's Diary Continues...

The tunnels are full of ogres, and creatures we call Low Slung Lightning Lizards.  There was also a creature that turned some of us to stone, but we got better.

The ogres aren't very happy to see us and they chased us for a long time.  We finally had to stop and confront them.  It was a very hard fight.  Aravis got picked up by an ogre & made into a mage sandwich.  (You haven't met Aravis.  He's very nice.  His parents all got killed by bugbears, and sometimes he's very sad.  He has a nice grey cat named Peweter.  I'll introduce him when we come back.)

Luckily for Aravis, Dranko (you remember Dranko.  He's the rude one, but his heart's in the right place.  He and Morningstar are going to get married, although they don't know it yet.  Dranko almost married Kay, but they didn't really love eachother, so they didn't) was sharing his wounds, so Aravis didn't die.


----------



## DiamondB

Dranko & Morningstar married!!!  Was I sleeping through something when I read through the groups adventures on the other continent?  Was there any foreshadowing of this?  Now I'm gonna have to go back and reread that just to make sure I wasn't asleep on the job.


----------



## Wolfspirit

DiamondB said:
			
		

> *Dranko & Morningstar married!!!  Was I sleeping through something when I read through the groups adventures on the other continent?*




Darn, I was looking for it, but I'm betting that it's on the Charagan webpage

They got engaged just a bit before Dranko got in trouble for raising a stink in the morgue (?) where they kept the corpse that had been killed by Null Shadows.

Smooth timming huh?  If he'd waited another couple of days she probably would have said no 

Sorry if the details are a bit sketchy, but I have to run to work now


----------



## Aravis

Wolfspirit said:
			
		

> *
> 
> They got engaged just a bit before Dranko got in trouble for raising a stink in the morgue (?) where they kept the corpse that had been killed by Null Shadows.
> 
> Smooth timming huh?  If he'd waited another couple of days she probably would have said no
> 
> Sorry if the details are a bit sketchy, but I have to run to work now  *




Actually, it was just before we were sent off to search for Carbuncle in the Orc caves in the Kalkas Peaks. Just before the Spire meeting in run 111 (http://home.attbi.com/~dorian/diary111-120.html).  

Dranko elicited advice from all of us as to how to go about it.  He ended up using the Snow Globe to create a very romantic field of stars.  However, much to Kibi's dismay, he forgot to offer her beer.  Even without the beer though, she accepted.

I believe they still have another 8 months to go before they actually get married.

-- Aravis


----------



## KidCthulhu

I faced some of the ogres, and they didn’t hurt me much.  Kibbe came back, and that was good, although it made Greywolf’s tummy hurt.  Kibbe made a big _Lightning Bolt_, which hurt a lot of ogres.  I don’t know how long he will stay, but it’s good he’s here now.

Flicker used his new giant killing sword while he was _Blinking_ (Moving in and out, that is, not moving his eyelids).  He slew an ogre with one blow.  One for the halflings!

And then Aravis got used as a battering ram.  It hurt him (& Dranko) very much.  If he hadn’t been sharing Dranko’s life force, he would have died.  He’ll certainly have a sore neck for days.

More ogres came, but we saw them soon enough to _Fireball_ them.  Mackel’s wand actually did something useful, and made a green ball of file.  The ogres went after Kibbe, but Morningstar _Protective Slept_ him so the ogres couldn’t kill him.  They sure do hate dwarves.  They last ogre tried to flee, but we cut him down.

Flicker disappeared after the ogres.  Sometimes he doesn’t have the common sense Yondalla gave a mule.  He wasn’t hurt, and he didn’t get waylaid.  He spotted some LSL lizards, so we piled up the ogre bodies for the lizards to eat and slow them down.
___________________

Oh dear.  What a busy day.  We’ve just managed to escape from one band of ogres, only to be sitting in the pantry of another band of ogres.  No, don’t worry, they’re not going to eat us.  At least I don’t think they will.  They seem to be slightly more civilized than the last group.

Getting taken prisoner is really a terrible thing.  We were trying to sneak into the ogre caverns and they had a very scary monster guarding the entrance.  It looked like a stalagmite, which is a big stony, pointy thing that sits on the floor of the cave, but it had tentacles and a mouth full of teeth.  The tentacles hit Aravis, Kay and Mackel and made them feel very weak.  Then, when we were weakened a whole bunch of ogres cam pouring out.

I wanted to fight, but I couldn’t stand against all of them, and they would have killed my friends.  Big bullies.  I hate being taken prisoner.


----------



## KidCthulhu

The ogres threw us in some dark, smelly cells.  They didn’t bring us food, but it was terrible!  What the ogres didn’t know was that Dranko and Pewter were free.  Dranko was invisible, and Pewter is just naturally sneaky.

Dranko found our stuff, and managed to make himself look like the ogre chief.  He sent all the ogres off to fight an imaginary dwarven army.  He found us, and we got out by Morningstar summoning some earth creatures to dig us out.  We ran and ran and finally came to a set of gates which marked the line between the two ogre kingdoms.

The other ogres had wanted to buy us from the old ogres as slaves.  We convinced them that it would be better to let us buy our way out.  They have proposed that we restore one of their first warlords who had been turned into stone and pay them some money.

I hate to pay these bullies, and I hate even worse to do them any favors, but we don’t have a whole lot of choice.

So we’re waiting tomorrow morning when Morningstar can cast the spell to turn the warlord back from stone.  We’re having a very good talk about our plans.  Boy, do we have a lot of things to do.  Oh, and I can’t forget to add “Help the halflings in Appleseed” to the list.  It’s kind of a divine command.

It’s been very weird.  I don’t feel any more good than I used to, but I get closer and closer to the goddess.  It gets harder and harder to live the right kind of life.  The things around me are so complicated and sometimes the line between the good way and the bad way is so very thin.  I guess I must be doing all right, as Yondalla has not withdrawn her grace from me.  But I sometimes wish I could go home where things are simple and good.

If I go home before this is done, though, there won’t be anything good and simple anymore.


----------



## Dinkeldog

I like the nonchalant 







> They last ogre tried to flee, but we cut him down.




"Hey Ma!  We just cut down a fleeing ogre!"

"That's nice, dear.  Just don't track blood into the house."


----------



## KidCthulhu

Yeah, Ernie kind of found it tough to describe things to his mom.  He wanted to tell her about his life, but yet not shock her so much that she ordered him to come home this instant.


----------



## KidCthulhu

I’m not sure we won’t pay for this day.  Thinking about it makes my flesh crawl.  This is exactly the kind of grey, shifty moral thing that makes me so scared and angry.  We released the ogre’s warlord and he turned out to be a terrible, scary, bad, evil looking creature with bat wings.  Dranko thought he was a dragon creature.  Morningstar thought he was a demon.  All I know is that I fear for the dwarves.  This creature is probably what drove them out in the first place.  And we’ve released it.

I hope the Crossers Maze is worth it.

________________________

We’re now making our way out of the ogre caverns by a river which has tunneled through the rock.  I nearly fell in, but we’d roped ourselves together and Kay caught me.  We got past a waterfall and a slippery narrow bank, but now there’s no bank.

Oh, boy.  I think I want to give up this adventuring thing.  Aravis turned into an otter to explore the river, and got shot out the side of a cliff.  The drop is apparently over 1,000 feet.  Kay just went out the tunnel, protected by the sleep of El.  Oh sweet Yondalla, I don’t want to do this.

We’re supposed to tie ourselves to Greywolf and then fall out the hole and Feather Fall (a spell which makes you fall slowly) together.  I hate heights!  

Water and heights. Sweet Yondalla’s cinnamon bun, why did I ever leave home.

_________

Aaaaagh!  That was the single scariest thing I’ve ever done.  We floated and then we fell and then we floated and then we feel into a pool.  It was awful.  But we all survived and weren’t hurt, so I guess it’s all for the best.

I hope I can be a good person; ‘cuz if I’m not, Hell is going to be making that fall, again and again..,


----------



## Plane Sailing

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *Water and heights. Sweet Yondalla’s cinnamon bun, why did I ever leave home.*




Ernie has the cutest way of taking his gods name in vain!

 - I love seeing his point of view on these events... when Sagiro gets back into this life I'll start looking out for Ernie with a new pair of eyes


----------



## Nail

*KC-*

Keep it comin', KC!!!  This is priceless stuff!

-*Nail*


----------



## RangerWickett

Does Morningstar post here?  I'm interested in using that Dreamwalker of Ell prestige class I wrote a few months back, to include in Asgard issue 7, but I want to get permission before I do so.  Also, if I could use the illustration of Morningstar to accompany the piece, it'd be great.  Could one of you kindly folks pass along my interest to Sagiro and Morningstar's player, please?


----------



## Ancalagon

This is pretty nifty!  Ernie has an interesting viewpoints

I sure hope sagiro will be able to DM again soon!

Ancalagon


----------



## Piratecat

Me too. Although Sagiro was kind enough to let me run a session of his campaign last night. Right now we're down at Kay's player's new house in CT for the weekend, and Sagiro even managed to sneak out of work early enough to come play Dranko!

It was a very fun game. I'll write it up and post it here, if Sagiro doesn't mind.


----------



## Plane Sailing

How on earth did you manage to DM some of Sagiros' game? I thought he held his cards too close to his chest for that!

Did it feel wierd DM'ing for characters that you normally play *with*?


----------



## Piratecat

He does!  I had to create a scenario that had no effect on the continuing plot. That meant that I had a choice of either doing something set in dream, or something that occurs in the Crosser's Maze. Since Morningstar's player couldn't make the game (and since the rules to the Crosser's Maze are less understood), I chose the latter. Sagiro and I had the understanding that I wouldn't muck with anything that he couldn't fix later.  Smart man, that Sagiro.


----------



## Aravis

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> *How on earth did you manage to DM some of Sagiros' game? I thought he held his cards too close to his chest for that!
> 
> Did it feel wierd DM'ing for characters that you normally play *with*? *




It was a GREAT side adventure that ended up giving me some new ideas of things I should be trying with the maze when I have free time to just explore.

It was a bit weird at first in that I kept wanting to address questions of whether something would work to Sagiro. 

-- Aravis


----------



## KidCthulhu

Wickett, 

Morningstar's player does not post here.  Probably best to address your questions directly to Sagiro.

Yes, the guest spot was a lot of fun.  Sagiro playing Dranko was a hoot.  I almost convinced everyone to switch characters, to make the night extra goofy.  But Kay's player hadn't played in a while, and was missing Kay, and we had Iron Chef BBQ (marja's player in the Scarred Lands game) guest playing Flicker, and Kay's player's husband playing Step (which he does very well) so we voted to keep the chaos to a minimum.

Curse them.  I was all for more chaos.


----------



## Aravis

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *Wickett,
> 
> Morningstar's player does not post here.  Probably best to address your questions directly to Sagiro.
> 
> Yes, the guest spot was a lot of fun.  Sagiro playing Dranko was a hoot.  I almost convinced everyone to switch characters, to make the night extra goofy.  But Kay's player hadn't played in a while, and was missing Kay, and we had Iron Chef BBQ (marja's player in the Scarred Lands game) guest playing Flicker, and Kay's player's husband playing Step (which he does very well) so we voted to keep the chaos to a minimum.
> 
> Curse them.  I was all for more chaos. *




I was kind of hoping for a complete switch around.  I was looking forward to playing Ernie...

-- Aravis


----------



## RangerWickett

Well, I hope that Sagiro's address is still dorian@mediaone.net, because I emailed him there.  In case he doesn't get it, though, could one of his players ask his permission for me?  Also, Dave Hendee, who did a portrait of Morningstar a while back, was interested in having his illustration be included with the article.  I'd like to do this, because I really enjoy the adventures you guys and ladies have, but I don't want to step on anyone's toes.


----------



## RangerWickett

And if my email is to be trusted, that isn't his address anymore.

"I posted this on your storyhour, but I was advised to contact you directly.  As you might recall, I wrote a prestige class based on your Ellish priesthood, and I'd like to include it in the next issue of Asgard, with your consent.  I know you thought it wasn't quite an accurate reflection, so if you could help me represent the clergy correctly, I would be delighted.  I just wanted to know if you'd be willing to let me use the concept from your setting in an e-published prestige class.  If you prefer to avoid a vague ownership ambiguity, you could submit something, since all rights stay with the submitter.

"I hope to hear back from you soon. "


----------



## Sagiro

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> *And if my email is to be trusted, that isn't his address anymore.
> 
> "I posted this on your storyhour, but I was advised to contact you directly.  As you might recall, I wrote a prestige class based on your Ellish priesthood, and I'd like to include it in the next issue of Asgard, with your consent.  I know you thought it wasn't quite an accurate reflection, so if you could help me represent the clergy correctly, I would be delighted.  I just wanted to know if you'd be willing to let me use the concept from your setting in an e-published prestige class.  If you prefer to avoid a vague ownership ambiguity, you could submit something, since all rights stay with the submitter.
> 
> "I hope to hear back from you soon. " *





Ranger,

Feel free to use the concept of the Dreamwalker for whatever you want to e-publish.  Heck, I stole most of it from Robert Jordan, anyways.  

-Sagiro

p.s. new e-mail address is velendo@hotmail.com


----------



## el-remmen

HOLY CRAP!


*He lives. . . . *


----------



## RangerWickett

We have to wonder, though. . . .  Did Piratecat not only gain Sagiro's DM seat, but also his ENWorld account?  Is this a conspiracy to discredit RangerWickett and cover up the untimely ingestion of our favorite curly-mustached storyteller?  And is it true that the rumored clash between the Defenders and the Company will finally take place, in Piratecat's next session of Crozzer's Maze Mayhem?  Stay tuned, fans!


----------



## KidCthulhu

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> *We have to wonder, though. . . .  Did Piratecat not only gain Sagiro's DM seat, but also his ENWorld account?  Is this a conspiracy to discredit RangerWickett and cover up the untimely ingestion of our favorite curly-mustached storyteller?  And is it true that the rumored clash between the Defenders and the Company will finally take place, in Piratecat's next session of Crozzer's Maze Mayhem?  Stay tuned, fans! *




Um, er.  Ok.  Whatever.  

And the Defenders would clean the Company's clock.  The company are better tacticians, but the Defenders have access to _Miracle_.  Nuff said


----------



## coyote6

*An idle bump, disguised*



			
				KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *And the Defenders would clean the Company's clock.  The company are better tacticians, but the Defenders have access to Miracle.  Nuff said *




So you're saying it would take a _miracle_ for the Defenders to beat the Company?


----------



## Dinkeldog

*whinny*

_clip-clop, clip-clop_ 

"Hey, everybody!  It's Miracle!"


----------



## KidCthulhu

Badum bump ching!  Thank you folks, we'll be here all week.  

No, seriously.  It wouldn't take a Miracle.  The Company are a smart bunch (if I do say so myself), but the Defenders just have the bigger guns.


----------



## Tor Bladebearer

I think it would depend a little bit on the context.  If you put both groups on a big field and said "fight" -- well, no question, the Company would be torn to shreds.  

I suspect if you gave the Company the chance to plot and scheme for a while to plot the eventually downfall of the Defenders, they might be able to pull it off.  But if they ever got caught...well... it wouldn't be pretty.  There's a lot of cosmic multidimensional firepower to throw around there... short of using the Crosser's Maze to turn all the Defenders into inch tall goblins or something, I think it would be grim.

-- Tor aka Xemu aka the never-mentioned-in-the-other-Piratecat-threads-because-I'm-right-in-the-gap-between-ancient-Defenders-and-modern-Defenders Eltariel


----------



## Dinkeldog

*Hey Tor!*

Nice to see you around again.

If you end up with more time, some of your story hour would be nice again.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Tor Bladebearer said:
			
		

> *-- Tor aka Xemu aka the never-mentioned-in-the-other-Piratecat-threads-because-I'm-right-in-the-gap-between-ancient-Defenders-and-modern-Defenders Eltariel *




And the never mentioning Eltariel is a shame, becuse he is the hands down winner of the "Best Entrance Ever" award.  Much to Nolin's chagrin.


----------



## Piratecat

Mmmmm, I'll say. He showed up by planeshifting in at high speed and crashing through the roof and wall of a house. He was soon followed by hideous monsters trying to recapture him.

I miss Eltariel - and his player, of course. I sometimes think that if I hadn't asked him to play an arcane spellcaster, he'd still be in Boston!


----------



## Aravis

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> *And is it true that the rumored clash between the Defenders and the Company will finally take place, in Piratecat's next session of Crozzer's Maze Mayhem?  Stay tuned, fans! *




*OUT! OUT!* 

I want you all out of my head!

-- Aravis


----------



## Zustiur

Aravis said:
			
		

> *
> 
> OUT! OUT!
> 
> I want you all out of my head!
> 
> -- Aravis *




But it's so roomy in here Aravis!
Can't we have a party? I'm sure we could squeeze some more people in.

Zustiur.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

_Being Aravis Malkovick_

Coming to an Eversink Theater Near You!


----------



## Sialia

Ok, in straight out combat, there's no discussion to be had. 

But I can't help think that if both teams were locked up, each team in their own room (assuming anyone had the power to keep either team locked up somewhere) The Company would outlast the Defenders.

There is no hazard to the Defenders like themselves.

And unless things have changed an awful lot since I left, the Company's fondness for its members is nearly unbreakable.

I'm betting the Defenders would blaze up in interparty strife brewed out of sheer boredom before Ernest finished rolling out his pie crust or Dranko had to light a new cigar.


----------



## Sialia

Tor Bladebearer said:
			
		

> *.
> 
> -- Tor aka Xemu aka the never-mentioned-in-the-other-Piratecat-threads-because-I'm-right-in-the-gap-between-ancient-Defenders-and-modern-Defenders Eltariel *




And this really is a pity, because by all accounts, he was a terriffic character. Bandeeto and I can't tackle it, because you came in just after we left and we've only got the teensiest fragments of secondhand stories to go on.

On the other hand, the barrier to us starting in on the Comet Cycle is that we left before it was finished and we've only got the teensiest fragments of secondhand stories to go on for the second half.

SO, seems to me that if a certain PC wants his story to be told, he might have to do some of his own storytelling . . .and there might be a really convenient and helpful place to start doing it . . .

Let me know if you're interested and I'll actually start working on the first half, soon as I wrap up the Buried Up to the Neck in Sand bit.


Apologies for the hijack, but it seemed like a worthwhile opportunity.

-Sialia


----------



## Tor Bladebearer

Hijacking in progress... where are those sky marshals?

I believe I in fact still have all my notes from Eltariel's journey from the City of Horns through Cirit Tordu, then into the desert and the final showdown at Tovag Baragu.  So I'd be happy to get that all typed in sometime...

-- Xemu / Tor / Eltariel


----------



## madriel

Please do, Tor.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sorry about the hiatus in Ernie's story.  Here's more
_______________


Well now I remember why I love doing this job.  We've met the _nicest_ people called the Yuja.  They are good, simple people, living in a clean little village.  They don't have much, but they are like halflings in their good hearts.  We are staying with them today. They have some sick people here, and I think we can help them.  The leaders of these people are the healers.  I think that's marvelous!

We spent two days in the village and it was the best time I've had in months.  

Then we took to the jungle.  It was very hard to get around, with huge tree trunks and vines as big as my arm.  Once we saw a river of ants swarming along the jungle floor.  They were cutting down trees (!) in their path and all the animals were running away.  We had to cross the river to get away.

One evening, while we were wandering through the jungle we were attacked by a giant mound of weed and branches.  It was 7 feet tall and smelled TERRIBLE.  Then another rose up, and another!  They were very, very strong and very scarey.  Everytime we cut one down, another sprang up.  And then Aravis cast a _Lightning Bolt_ and one got BIGGER!  That was not good.  Aravis tried another trick and turned into one of the shambley things.

Just as we thought all might be lost, a man with an enourmous axe and a half-orc with a big sword ran into the clearing.  We weren't sure if they were friend or foe, but they started fighting the shamblers, so we let them.  What else could we do?

We finally beat the shamblers, although Aravis took an arrow from out of the woods, from someone who thought he was a real shambler.  

Then, as we stood there, a whole bunch of people came out of the woods.  The woman who was their leader was someone we'd never seen, but we knew who she was.  Lapis.  The woman who's been tracking us since we came to this continent.  The one who hired the Animators and the shadow guys in D'Jaw.  The one who summons Elementals to kill people and cause chaos.  She's...shes... I don't even know if I can say the word for what she is.

She told us that she had been following us, and that we needed to work with her.  There is a password to the Crossers Maze, she said, and I know it.  You know how to get there.  You need me and I need you.

It was terrible, but true.  And wounded and beaten as we were, there was nothing we could do about it.


----------



## madriel

Thank you!

Ernie has such refined sensibilities.  Just can't bring himself to call people names.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Well certainly not in a letter to his mother!

Here are some Company Quotes, just to keep you all happy until the next real post:

*Sand's Edge*
(while being attacked by dozens of guards)
Why is it whenever we’re in Sand’s Edge, we always end up in a fight?-Dranko
I just have this terrible feeling it’s all going to end up in a _Ride_ check – Kibbe

I’m right underneath the window, and I have a weapon with a 15’ reach – Dranko
Do you use that line with all the women? – Kibbe

You feel dumb *NOW*? (Morningstar to Dranko, after his little invisible adventure in the Sand’s Edge morgue)

I’ve been through the desert on a turtle with no name – Ernie

I think the archmagi are busy trying to keep the door locked while the Black Circle are busy sawing the off the back end of the house. – kidcthulhu

I was a bonehead in a good cause, and I think I did it in a smart way – Dranko

*Tal Hai*
Either they’re really busy up there, or Mrs. Horn is boinking Ozalingh – kidcthulhu (after a panting Mrs. Horn gave the brush off to Ernie’s distress call).

We never get the people we _Raise_ back.  It’s like recycling, only we don’t get our nickle back. – kidcthulhu

I’m afraid of heights! – Skorg (being carried by a flying Greywolf)
Get used to it. – Greywolf

You could be a midden sweeper – Ernie (looking on the bright side)
Midden.  You mean the thing you put you hands in to keep warm?  Flicker
Well, yeah.  When they’re fresh they’re warm. – Dranko

Hero of the Khalkas Peaks?  You’re one of _those_ people? – Flunky at sages consortium
There’s no way you could have known  - Dranko
Yeah, we haven’t gotten the t-shirts made yet. – kidcthulhu

*Kallor*
I thought you said everything was fine! – Aravis (after the first Null Shadow attack)
I did.  About ten minutes before everything stopped being fine. – Greywolf

Mokad said a lot of things snearingly – Dranko
Now he says them smearingly – Ernie (looking into the pit of Black Circle goo)

I’m not into looting with a sieve – Morningstar


----------



## madriel

Brilliant!


----------



## Ancalagon

Glad to see this story hour will revive itself!

"I’ve been through the desert on a turtle with no name"

That is oddly poetic.  I've sent it to sam brown, from www.explodingdog.com .   maybe he'll do a drawing of it!

Ancalagn


----------



## Dawn

Great quotes!  I love the things people can come up with in the heat of battle.

In my game, the Paladin had just made her third high Will save.  When the rogue, who had been giving her grief about her prayers, failed his save, she looked over at him and said, with a Holier-than-thou look, “I guess you need to change your god or pray more.”  The look on the rogue’s face was priceless!


----------



## Piratecat

He's miserable (in a "I love my job" kind of way), I think: 6-7 days a week, past midnight on most nights. We've played a few times since the last update, but Sagiro simply hasn't written all the sessions up yet. I'll try to write up the session I ran, at least.

The Lost probably goes gold in the end of August/beginning of September.  Here's generic information with lots of links, and here's an interview with Sagiro himself!

Too cool.


----------



## Plane Sailing

So roughly how far is the story behind real-time at the present? one or two sessions?

I anticipate a surge of interest in re-reading this storyhour asasp (as soon as sagiro posts) just so we can all get up to speed with what is happening and what the dangling plot threads are!

Cheers


----------



## Sagiro

Hi everyone,

While my project at work isn't completed, I've moved off it and on to the Next Big Thing(tm).  That means I'm not in 80-hours-a-week crunch mode anymore.  Woo!  Back now among the living, I'm catching up on many things (not the least of which is playing lots of Warcraft III... mmmmm...), including writing Story Hour installments from the days of yore.  There still won't be updates every day, but I hope to slowly catch up to where the game is now.  You'll probably want to go back and read the last few installments, to remind yourself where we were... I know I had to!  Short version:  The Company has just saved the world from the evil plane-melding machinations of the Black Circle.  Now they're camped out in the Black Circle base of operations below the Ellish city of Kallor, cleaning the place out.  (The Black Circle HQ, not Kallor.)  Morningstar has just met a strange Ellish cleric named Evenstar in Ava Dormo...

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 143*_

Morningstar nods, smiles slightly, and asks where is Evenstar is from – where she is right now, in the waking world.

“I am in Kivia,” she replies, “in a hidden temple high in the mountains, on the border between Bederen and Delfir.  Like my mother and her mother before her, I have been in charge of this temple, and have been so for over 30 years.  We worship a Goddess of Night who is not like Dralla, who protects rather than threatens.  For three generations we have been visited, on occasion, by a dark avatar who has trained us.  We obeyed her, for we knew the Goddess sent her.  She was sent by Ell.”

Morningstar’s eyes widen.  A temple of Ell, in Kivia!  Evenstar continues.

“We have done our best to do as the avatar – as Ell – has commanded.  We have recruited sisters, and they have come to our hidden shrine.   Some of them, most of them, have received the calling to become Dreamwalkers, and I have been doing my best to train them to fight in Ava Dormo.  It has not been easy.  We have been training for a long time, but it is hard, and Ell is far from us.  Many of the sisters have left us over the years, and others simply show little aptitude despite long months or years of training.   Even I find it a struggle, but we have persisted.  

“Through all these years, I have been told to wait for a messenger, who would tell me when the time drew near for me and my sisters to be put to the test.  Some days ago, that messenger arrived.  He was a half-orc who called himself Snokas, and somehow he discovered the hidden paths that lead to our shrine.  He carried with him a number of scrolls with a prayer we knew not of, called “Direct Dreaming.”  He told us about Charagan, a Kingdom across Posada’s Boundary, where the Ellish religion thrived, and Dralla held no sway.  And he told me I must contact you, for you would need our help.

“At first I was outraged, that Ell had not told me that there was a whole land of fellow priestesses.  I had always felt that we were keeping the faith alone.  But I allowed myself to be calm, and I meditated.  I saw that the urgency engendered by my feeling of responsibility drove me to do the task appointed.   And I feel that I have done that task.  I do not know how strong we will be compared to those you have trained here in Charagan, but I have a hundred dream-warriors ready to battle in Ava Dormo, when you need us.”

Morningstar is amazed, and delighted.  But Evenstar has grown weary, exhausted from the effort of dreaming from Kivia, even with the Direct Dreaming prayer.  They agree to talk further about their experiences.  Morningstar slips from Ava Dormo back into true sleep.

Aravis has been watching from the Crosser’s Maze, trying to see what a Dreamer looks like from the unique viewpoint of the Maze.  But he sees nothing unusual (given the already-strange context) and slips back out of the Maze.  With a few words to the others, he goes to sleep for the night.  The next morning he finds himself refreshed, and there is no sign that anything is amiss…

…but Pewter is frantic, meowing piteously at Kay.   Aravis has not come out of his trance, and his breathing is shallow.  As has happened on at least one prior occasion, Aravis has become lost in the Crosser’s Maze, and it takes upward of half an hour of shaking and shouting to bring him back to the real world.  But despite the experience, Aravis shakes it off with his usual equanimity, commenting only that “it’s easy to see how one could become lost in there forever.  If one didn’t have friends.”

*Friday, July 19*

The next day Morningstar casts _heal_ on the still-deranged Califax.  He becomes more lucid, but even more despairing.  “They’ve taken my soul,” he says despondently.  “Nothing can help me, and I am no longer in the favor of Delioch.  I have no soul, and am no longer holy.   The Black Circle burned all that away.”  Still, the party, and Dranko especially, is eager to help him, and vows to take him to the mother church in Hae Charagan.   An _augury_ cast regarding Califax and the grease-filled pit to which he was attached returns a clear answer:  *”The oil is irrelevant.*

Cobb delivers the most recent news from above ground.  Most of the servants and guards of the estates have now fled, and have taken many valuables with them.  But a few stalwart staff members have stayed behind, and continue to do their jobs.   Morningstar goes back to the Temple for further debriefing, but Rhiavonne is indisposed.   A priestess named Corshanni is sent to hear what Morningstar has to say, and despite Morningstar’s misgivings (given how Stersa worked out), she gives a full report. (Corshanni does allow Morningstar to cast a battery of detection spells on her first, and all of them check out.)

Back in the Black Circle compound, the party decides to have another go at the room with the unspeakable evil _something_ in it.  But this time they are girded with _protection from evil_, and are ready for any sort of horrible thing to come lunging out at them.  Dranko opens the door.  Again, everyone in the hallway feels evil radiating out of the room like hot sunlight, but Ernie’s _Circle of Protection_ bears the brunt, and the party is able to enter the room, albeit with great discomfort.  

The first thing they see is the table, a long, sturdy wooden table that runs much of the length of the room.  Carved into it is an intricate map of the Kingdom of Charagan.  Black lines, burned into the wood, radiate outward from the city of Kallor to several other locations, and next to each of these is a number.  A large number.  Near the plains of northern Lanei – 21,000.  50 miles south of the town of Sampan – 15,000.   A spot just north of Sand’s Edge – 19,000.  Inside the city of Kynder Hold – 7,000.  Just outside the city of Sentinel – 24,000.  Inside the city of Oasis – 6,000.  In the forest near Gahan on the Gahantropalas Isles – 12,000.  And next to Kallor is the number “26.”  Other reddish lines head into the sea, mountain ranges, or deserts, and there are no numbers next to these.  

There were 26 armored soldiers who nearly appeared in the Black Circle ritual room, before they were torn apart when the ritual was disrupted.  From that, the party guesses that those numbers were expected numbers of troops, who would have arrived on Charagan had the evil plot succeeded.  Taken together, that would have been many times more soldiers than all of Charagan could muster.  

…to be continued…


----------



## coyote6

*An update?*

Woohoo!

Re: Morningstar and the Kivian dreamers: did Morningstar just take the Leadership feat & get a bunch of followers?


----------



## Fade

If all those thousands of soldiers got discorporated too, _someone_ is going to have a lot of cleaning up to do.


----------



## Plane Sailing

Great to see you back with the living, Sagiro. We missed you!


----------



## wolff96

Wow!

He's back!

Welcome back, Sagiro... We've seen your work as Velendo over in PC's story hour, but it's great to see the Company back in action.


----------



## Nail

Lookin' forward to more mustache-twirlin' goodness!  ....err, evilness.


----------



## Ancalagon

hurray, the return of sagiro!

Ancalagon


----------



## el-remmen

Sagiro,

Good to have you back!  it has been too too long. .. 

My own story hour has slowed down some because of real life stuff. . .  but when my readers complained I would say _"at least I am not pulling a Sagiro!"_ 

Damn . .. I can't say that anymore. . .


----------



## ForceUser

Welcome back, Sagiro!


----------



## RangerWickett

Sagiro, glad to have you back.  Always loved this storyhour.  And because I want to be extra careful, is it still okay for me to run an article about the Dreamscape and Dreamwalkers in Asgard's upcoming issue?  If you want, I can send you a link to it, if you want to give feedback.  I do my best to get stuff right, but I can't recall everything you've written.


----------



## madriel

Welcome back to the land of the living, Sagiro!


----------



## Sagiro

Thanks everyone, for a kind welcome-back.  I missed you too!   

RangerWickett, feel free to use whatever you want, in whatever form you want.  Strict accuracy vis-a-vis my campaign should hardly be a prerequisite for your materials, which are an improvement as likely as not.  And anyway, I stole the basic idea from Robert Jordan in the first place.  

Here's a mini-installment:

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 144 *_

But the table isn’t what’s radiating the overwhelming evil.  That’s coming from one of the bookshelves lining the walls of the chamber.  Squatting on one of the shelves is a large book, its unmarked spine a flat black.   The malice radiating from that book is palpable, beating against the _protection from evil_ that keeps it from blasting the minds of the Company.   Even so, no one can look straight at it for more than a couple of seconds; they glean what they can from sidelong glances.  

After a search of the rest of the room turns up nothing save more (ordinary) books and papers, they back out into the hallway and send Cobb to the surface to fetch the sturdiest trunk he can find.  A few minutes later he returns with another guard, dragging a large wooden chest with a solid steel lock.    New _protection from evil_ spells are cast, and the party plunges back into the room with the horrific book.  Using a long wooden plank, they tip the book off of the shelf and into the trunk.  Then they hastily close and lock the trunk and drag it outside.  The pure evil can still be felt through the wood, but muted and at least tolerable to those without magical protection.   Morningstar casts _detect evil_ on everyone who had come near the wretched tome, but all seem personally untainted.

Grey Wolf and Ernie go back into the room where Califax had been kept prisoner, and fish around for more objects in the oily pit.  First they find another book (non-magical) which contains a disturbingly accurate biography of Grey Wolf, chronicling his childhood, the death of his parents, and his apprenticeship with the wizard Melido.   Then they find the bones.  Kay examines them -- there are several, all half-elven.  Grey Wolf doesn’t need confirmation – he knows that they’re the bones of his parents.  He remembers back many years, burying those remains near the farmhouse.   The Black Circle must have exhumed them, to prepare their evil ritual. 

Grey Wolf smolders, his heart racing in outrage.  Without a word he stalks out of the room, and the others shrink back as he marches back to the bloody pit where so many Black Circle savants met their end.  Mokad’s body still lies on the floor, a chunk of Blood Gargoyle wedged in his mouth.  His eyes are open, staring up lifelessly.  Grey Wolf draws Bostock, and without uttering a word brings it down heavily, severing Mokad’s head from his body in one savage stroke.  

Kibi casts a _fly_ spell on Ernie, who flies above the oil-pit and severs the chain holding the small cage with its chunk of black stone.  While not as eeeeeeevil as the book, it’s still radiating malice on its own, so the party gets a second trunk and locks it away.

Lastly there is the shadowy room with the cauldron, that holds the chill of Null Shadows.  Morningstar tries casting _dispel magic_ (from the hallway outside) on both the room and the cauldron, to no avail.  Aravis drops into the Crosser’s Maze and “zooms in” his point of view onto the room itself.  He has some success before the effort overwhelms him, and when he comes to a few seconds later, reports that the room seems to somehow be both on the Prime Material Plane _and_ the Shadow Plane at the same time.  It’s fascinating, but it’s not clear what to do about it.   The Company locks the door.  Tired and saturated with evil Black Circle ambience, but convinced that nothing more dire will happen, the Company goes to the surface.  Most of them return to the Moonspell to clean themselves up and get a good hot meal, but Morningstar has one more commitment to keep.  She has been dreading it, knowing what may come.  But the morning is getting on, and soon High Priestess Rhiavonne will be going to bed.  Morningstar marches resolutely to the High Temple to face judgement.  Her fiancee Dranko goes with her.

...to be continued...


----------



## Fade

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Tired and saturated with evil Black Circle ambience, but *convinced that nothing more dire will happen*, the Company goes to the surface.




This sounds ominous...

Perhaps all they've managed to do is disrupt the magic the Black Circle used to control the Null Shadows and now thousands are going to pour out into the city.


----------



## Milo Windby

:: phew:: 

Finally caught up with all three of my favorite story hours.  I didn't get to comment on the finale of the great battle.  Well done Sagiro!  Ditto to the Company!  

So how far are we from the current game sessions Sagiro?  And now that you're back from the Land of the Working Dead can we expect post-a-days?  Huh?  Can we pretty pleeeeeeze?


----------



## Dawn

Whoa!  We just get a post and this story is on the second page?  I think not!

Moving to the front........


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 145 *_

Morningstar is swiftly granted an audience.  She and Dranko are escorted through the darkened halls of the temple to the office of the High Priestess.  Dranko is asked politely by a neophyte to wait outside; Rhiavonne wishes to speak with Morningstar in private.  The half-orc gives his betrothed a reassuring squeeze on the arm, and in she goes.

High Priestess Rhiavonne, most holy of Ell in all Charagan, has her back to the door.  She looks out a window onto the eternally-twilit rooftops of Kallor.   Without turning, she says:  “Ah, Morningstar, please come in.  Come stand by me.”

Morningstar walks quietly to the window.  Rhiavonne is small, old, and radiates a great power as she gazes upon her city.

“Morningstar, look outside, and tell me what you see.”

“I see the holy city, blessed by the Goddess,” Morningstar says.

“I see a philosophy,” says Rhiavonne.  “I see a truth.  I see a choice that the Goddess made, that the land on which her foot first fell should forever be in darkness. 

“I have spent many years with my head in books, reading the wisdom of sisters who have gone before us. I have read accounts of people who think as you do; of women determined that our immersion in the night is a weakness. I have seen prophecies warning about the consequences of staying our current course. I have read the histories that Swan made sure I saw: that once Ell was a Goddess of dreams, and all her children Dreamwalkers. I have read them. I have pondered them. 

“And for every one of those voices of dissent, I have read a dozen that confirm that our current philosophy is the right one. That our commitment to the night must be absolute and that to divide our efforts will lead to ruin. That our shift from the world of dreams to the world of reality was caused and confirmed by Ell herself, realizing that in dreams we could not affect the world as we can otherwise. 

“And if there is one message that permeates Ell's teachings and those of her prophets throughout the ages, it is this: that she leaves it to her mortal children how to interpret her will. She does not dictate to us. Rather she presents a divine truth so expansive that none can see it whole. It is for us to make of it what we will.”

Morningstar takes a deep breath.  “That is what I am doing, in the best way I know how.  I am also charged with interpreting Ell’s will.”

“Yes.  Yes you are.” Rhiavonne says.  She sits behind her table, and motions toward a chair opposite.  “Morningstar, sit down.  If you’ll indulge an old woman, I wish to tell you a parable.  

“‘Once there was an apothecary who lived in a small town. There were others of his profession there, but this one prepared only one potion. It was a cure for a rare but deadly disease that struck maybe only one person in a whole year. The cure itself was difficult to prepare, and the ingredients were rare and expensive, but he devoted 10 months out of every year to its brewing, and every year, if a child was stricken with the sickness, he would be ready with his potion, and he would administer the cure. His wife earned enough money for them both to live, by weaving cloth. 

One day his wife said to him, ‘what you do is commendable, and you save a life in many years, but there is more that you can do. The other leeches and alchemists in town make a good living selling cures for the flux, and for the rash, and for expelling ticks and lice. You could do the same, but still have time to keep brewing your special cure, and we would be even better loved. Also, we are vulnerable. What if a year comes when no one has the sickness, and there is no demand for my cloth? We would starve!’

That following year the apothecary made his cure, but also mixed many other potions and powders to help the people of the town. People started to buy from them who once bought from others, and their business thrived. And while no one came down with the singular disease for which he usually prepared, they ate well that winter and had means to give to charity as well. 

In the six years that followed, the apothecary spent more and more time branching his business, and less and less time gathering the ingredients and mixing his special cure. At first he still found the time to mix it, and managed to prepare a fresh dose each fall, but it became more and more difficult to spend time on it when there was so much else to do. And after six years had passed, during which time no one contracted the deadly illness, he decided that for one year at least he might forego his usual specialty, and spend more time helping the people of the town in more practical and numerous ways. 

In the seventh year the apothecary's own granddaughter fell ill, and died within a day, for no cure was ready.’”

Rhiavonne sits up straighter and looks directly into Morningstar’s eyes, a sad but stern expression on her wrinkled face.

“I listen to Amber, and to Swan, and to you, and I hear the first whispers of the wife. We would not _set out_ to abandon our mission. But in ten years, or a hundred...  It is my place to speak to the future, and hearing you, I know more than ever what I must say. 

“Ell leaves it to each of us to further the church's ends in the ways that seem most right. I will not seek to do harm upon Amber and her followers, nor claim any reparations from her. But I must issue this edict: that the Illuminated Sisterhood is a heretical organization, and has no place within the Church of Ell. Its followers must either renounce in total their adherence to its tenets, or consider themselves Excommunicated from the Church, divided entirely from its holdings, its temples and services, and its support. They shall not pray or perform Miracles within Ellish temples, nor make claims to have done so. And I will start with you, Morningstar, though I think I already know your answer. But here is the choice: will you renounce the Illuminated Sisterhood and rejoin the Mother Church, or will you face Excommunication?”

…to be continued…


----------



## Carnifex

This strikes me as oddly echoing the Malachite and Emerald Chapel/Church of Aeos rift in Piratecat's campaign... very interesting development. Surely by her own words though, Rhiavonne is contradicting her own actions?

“And if there is one message that permeates Ell's teachings and those of her prophets throughout the ages, it is this: that she leaves it to her mortal children how to interpret her will. She does not dictate to us. Rather she presents a divine truth so expansive that none can see it whole. It is for us to make of it what we will.”

Basically says its up to the followers to interpret Ell's will - idnicating an individual's choice.

Then she herself acts as a dictator, declaring the Sisterhood heretical because they disagree with *her*, where Ell has made it clear, apparently, that it is an expansive faith that can cover many different facets.

Sounds like the church needs a little bit of reorganising 

Great stuff as always!


----------



## Blackjack

Carnifex said:
			
		

> * Surely by her own words though, Rhiavonne is contradicting her own actions?
> 
> “And if there is one message that permeates Ell's teachings and those of her prophets throughout the ages, it is this: that she leaves it to her mortal children how to interpret her will. She does not dictate to us. Rather she presents a divine truth so expansive that none can see it whole. It is for us to make of it what we will.”
> *




Ah, see, I disagree there's a contradiction here.  Ell left it to her mortal children to interpret Her will; she didn't say _which_ children.  She didn't say "each and every child", nor did she say "my church".  Rhiavonne undoubtedly sees herself in the right, since to her, clearly it is the Church that should be determining the interpretation.  One expects that Morningstar will disagree, believing her personal interpretation to outweigh the Church's.

This is a running tension in any group (religious, political, or otherwise) that has a starting tenet and then successive interpretation... is interpretation up to the individual, or the organization, or both?


----------



## Sagiro

Blackjack said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Ah, see, I disagree there's a contradiction here.  Ell left it to her mortal children to interpret Her will; she didn't say which children.  She didn't say "each and every child", nor did she say "my church".  Rhiavonne undoubtedly sees herself in the right, since to her, clearly it is the Church that should be determining the interpretation.  One expects that Morningstar will disagree, believing her personal interpretation to outweigh the Church's.
> 
> This is a running tension in any group (religious, political, or otherwise) that has a starting tenet and then successive interpretation... is interpretation up to the individual, or the organization, or both? *




I think Blackjack has the right of it.  To paraphrase Rhiavonne:  "Ell didn't write down specific rules for what to do in situations like this one.  Instead, I get ponder the mysteries and then decide for myself what to do.  And since I'm the High Priestess, what I decide becomes official church policy.  You also made a decision, which is fine as far as it goes, but if we both choose different interpretations, mine's the one we go with."

Of course, things aren't as grim as they seem, as you'll see when I post the next installment in just a few minutes.

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 146 *_

Morningstar sits silently for a few long minutes, and Rhiavonne says nothing, full well understanding the weight of the choice.  For Morningstar it is the moment she has dreaded would come, but it's chilling nonetheless to hear the words out loud.  Still, she has prepared for this moment.

“High Priestess, I think there is another choice, and there are some… other matters you should consider.  First, know that I have come to my unusual position by the direct will and intervention of the Goddess herself.   I did not wish to be the “Child of Light.”  That was chosen for me, and an avatar of the Goddess has trained me.”

“This is not news to me, child,” Rhiavonne says.  “You were given a great gift, clearly.  But it has been your own choice how best to use that gift.”

“But I was not the only one to whom it was given.”

Rhiavonne sits up a bit straighter and leans forward.  Morningstar continues.

“There is another priestess like me, called by Ell to train in the light, for an upcoming moment of great need.   Just as I have.  The signs from Ell were as clear to her as they are to me – and she is from Kivia, the land across the Uncrossable Sea.   Does that not tell you how serious this is?  This Dreamwalker – Evenstar – was directed in no uncertain terms by a direct representative of the Goddess to prepare a force of dream-warriors.  A messenger, under no guidance save what the Goddess put into his head, sought her out and warned her that the moment of crisis was approaching.   We are _required_ to be ready.  The Illuminated Sisterhood makes that possible.”

Rhiavonne’s face is unreadable, but she senses that Morningstar isn’t finished, and stays quiet.   Then Morningstar plays her trump card.

“Holy Mother, it is clear to me, and should be clear to you, that Ell is preparing my fellow sisters and me for an important, specific task.  You know all about the Black Circle plot we just foiled.  The Kingdom is in true, dire peril, and Ell is making sure we are trained to face it.  But when that job is done, we will have fulfilled our purpose.  I don’t foresee a need for the church to stay divided once the threat – whatever it is – has been dealt with.  And that moment comes soon.”

Rhiavonne’s eyes widen and she leans forward further, elbows on the table.

“So, you would be willing to abandon the Illuminated Sisterhood once your… mission… is complete?  

Morningstar nods.  They both sit silent for a moment while the High Priestess cogitates, and then Rhiavonne speaks again

“Perhaps there will be no need for any excommunications after all.  Morningstar, I want you to promise me, in Ell’s holy shadow, that you will renounce the Illuminated Sisterhood after the Kingdom is saved from its current danger.  Furthermore, you will make sure that Amber dissolves the order completely.  In return, there will be no further restrictions imposed on the members of the Illuminated Sisters, and they will be welcome fully back into the church proper upon its dissolution.  Do you promise this?”

With a great sigh of relief, Morningstar nods her head in agreement.  “I promise,” she says.  

Rhiavonne’s expression softens.  

“I’m glad we were able to come to an agreement.  I have great respect for you, daughter, and have never doubted that you seek to do what is right for our church.  And Ell obviously has great plans for you.  We are already in your debt for your service in this very city.  I hope that when all of this is over, we can talk more regularly, without the tension of politics.”

Morningstar nods politely.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time I was getting to bed.  An old woman needs her sleep, and the sun is already well over the horizon.  Good night, Morningstar.  And thank you.”

En route to the Moonspell, Califax suddenly asks to be taken to Soulmender Tomnic in Hae Charagan immediately.  His words are desperate, but his voice carries no inflection.   Ernie tells him that first thing the next morning, Morningstar can cast a _wind walk_ that will get him there as quickly as possible.  Califax thanks him and hangs his head as they walk – he says nothing, but his meaning is clear: today would be better.  But Aravis, the only member of the Company with the _teleport_ spell, has never been to Hae Charagan and does not want to risk an accident.

At the Moonspell, the innkeeper greets them grandly, wealthy customers that they are.  But he is not ready for their outlandish request.

“Sir?”  Ernie asks.  “How much would it cost for the use of your commons, exclusively, for the rest of the day and through tomorrow morning?  For just us,  I mean?”

The innkeeper does some quick accounting in his head, figuring the meals that won’t be served, and other customers who might be discouraged from taking rooms that night.  Then he adds on a bit extra, smiles, and says “Master halfling, two hundred gold coins should cover the costs, including our best meals for all of you this evening, and as much ale as you wish to consume.”

Ernie doesn’t even blink.  “Ok,” he says cheerily, and hands over the cash.  The Company celebrates in grand style, relaxing in stuffed couches, eating marvelous food and retelling tales from their victory over the Black Circle.  Morningstar and Dranko arrive an hour or so later, and the celebration now encompasses Morningstar’s agreement with Rhiavonne.   Any misgivings they have over the price are soon washed away by as much ale as they can consume.

Later that evening, Captain Cobb makes an appearance; a servant starts to explain that the commons is closed to the general public for the evening, but Dranko spies him and waves him over.  Before Cobb can start explaining his business, Dranko gets a drink in his hand, sits him down in a stuffed armchair, and calls for a slab of seasoned mutton to be brought over.  The typically dour Cobb turns nothing down.

Eventually the good Captain gets around to his business.  He gathers the Company around him to make his announcement.

“Friends, I’ve spent the day talking with various city officials, nobles and church dignitaries.  They all agree that the service you have rendered to Kallor and Charagan in the past few days is difficult to measure.   It’s been difficult to convince some of the them the extent of the danger, but I think by and large they all understand that you saved their bacon from a very hot fire.

“As such, a reward is clearly in order.  We talked some about what would be appropriate, and what we can spare in a time when the Kingdom is at war.  Now, as you know, there are some prime estates in the Silent Quarter whose owners and occupants have recently come to an untimely end.   And that patch of real estate has some – er – unusual features that we don’t want anyone rushing into.  There’s a lot of messy paperwork that I’d really rather avoid.  The simplest expedient would be for me to arrange for those estates – formerly of the families Cosnor, Canterrin and Southinghorn --  to be signed over to you.  All we’d ask is that you agree not to sell those estates or their furnishings for a period of three years, and that you be responsible for upkeep and taxes in the meantime.  Oh, and that you observe the strictures of general quiet that are observed in the Silent Quarter.”

The Company happily accepts.  Then, to Cobb’s delight, Dranko says, “Captain, we’re thrilled to take ownership of those estates, but we’re awfully busy, and won’t be able to be here very often in the near future.   Not to mention that most of us would rather be somewhere that the sun is shining.   It would be a big favor to us if you could think of _someone_…”  (and here he gives Cobb a meaningful look) “…who might occupy one of the Estates and keep an eye on our properties while we’re gone.  Of course, his family could move in too.  There’s plenty of space.  And we’d leave behind enough coin to cover the expenses for the next few months.   How does that sound?”

“It sounds like I have some good news for the wife and kids,” Cobb grins.  

In the City of Eternal Twilight, light and laughter spill from the Moonspell far into the small hours of the morning.

…to be continued…


----------



## Tony Vargas

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *"You also made a decision, which is fine as far as it goes, but if we both choose different interpretations, mine's the one we go with."
> *




The part of Rhiavonne was played by Skip 'Da Sage' Williams...

(or, at least, he should be able to empathize with her)


----------



## madriel

Sagiro, you haven't lost your touch for writing brilliant, witty and all around entertaining updates.


----------



## Milo Windby

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *“Perhaps there will be no need for any excommunications after all.  Morningstar, I want you to promise me, in Ell’s holy shadow, that you will renounce the Illuminated Sisterhood after the Kingdom is saved from its current danger.  Furthermore, you will make sure that Amber dissolves the order completely.  In return, there will be no further restrictions imposed on the members of the Illuminated Sisters, and they will be welcome fully back into the church proper upon its dissolution.  Do you promise this?”
> 
> With a great sigh of relief, Morningstar nods her head in agreement.  “I promise,” she says.
> *




Sounds like the religious rift here was solved much easier than the Malachite's Emerald Chapel conflict in Piratecat's campaign.  I've got to wonder if it will have more far-reaching effects though.  Morningstar was quick to promise that the Illuminated Sisters will be dissolved upon the completion of their mission, whatever it will be.  How capable will she be to affect that dissolution when the time comes though?  Will the other sisters go willingly back into the church or be declared heretics?  Will Ell herself withold Her divine blessings to indicate the need for the sisters is ended?  Or would she allow two opposite-thinking factions to exist in her religion?  Not to mention will Morningstar have to give up her dream warrior abilities and become a simple cleric of Ell again?

I think Sagiro has left this particular confict open for later crunchy roleplaying.


----------



## Caliber

Very nifty keen Sagiro. Glad to see you're back.


----------



## Zaruthustran

*Sagiro Returns!*

<joy>


----------



## wolff96

Milo Windby said:
			
		

> *I think Sagiro has left this particular confict open for later crunchy roleplaying. *




I think Sagiro does that with EVERYTHING in his story hour.

After recently going back and reading through the story hour from the beginning, there are literally hundreds of this kind of dangling plot thread that the great spider at the center of the web could pull on if he wanted to. Plot hooks are scattered like confetti. 

My personal favorite being the Guild of Chains that the group pretty much vowed to come back and destroy some day.


----------



## Wolfspirit

Milo Windby said:
			
		

> *
> I've got to wonder if it will have more far-reaching effects though.  Morningstar was quick to promise that the Illuminated Sisters will be dissolved upon the completion of their mission, whatever it will be.  How capable will she be to affect that dissolution when the time comes though?  Will the other sisters go willingly back into the church or be declared heretics?  Will Ell herself withold Her divine blessings to indicate the need for the sisters is ended?  Or would she allow two opposite-thinking factions to exist in her religion?  Not to mention will Morningstar have to give up her dream warrior abilities and become a simple cleric of Ell again?*




I personally think it's rather short sighted to assume that once This Big Thing is over, there isn't some Other Big Thing that's going to become really important too.  And what happens if during the next Big Thing, the Illuminated Sisters' abilities wouldn't become even more important, or if nothing else really darn usefull?

I realize that this is a really good solution for now (why get excomunicated now when you can deal with the consequences later?), but this is probably going to come back to haunt Morningstar.  And of course, barring Ell giving a ground shaking pronouncement to the church at large, I doubt that the two factions can exist.  Heck, the fact that an avatar pretty much started the whole thing doesn't seem to faze the high priestess; what else could?


----------



## Nail

Wolfspirit said:
			
		

> *And of course, barring Ell giving a ground shaking pronouncement to the church at large, I doubt that the two factions can exist.*




Yer missing a thought or two on this:

What if, during "the Big Danger", th' upper eschelons of the Church of Ell are wiped out?  

Put another way:
     What if, through the Whims of Fate, Morningstar becomes th' head of the Church of Ell?

Things change.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

*Welcome Back!*

Also, just because the Illuminated Sisters are dissolved doesn't mean the members would lose any of the abilities they'd gained, they just wouldn't openly be using them anymore.  So what, if the sisters rejoin the Mother Church?  When the next Big Bad appears, they can just re-form the group, this time likely at the High Priestess' bequest.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 147 *_

*Saturday, July 20*

The next morning the members of the Company straggle down to the common room of the Moonspell with hangovers of various degrees.  Califax is already there, sitting in a chair and staring blankly at the far wall.

“It’s still gone,” he says flatly.  “They burned away my soul.  I don’t think I can get it back.  But if there’s a way, Tomnic the Follower will know.  You said you would take me there.”

And so they do.   Using a combination of _teleport_ and _wind walk_, Dranko, Aravis, Kay,  Morningstar and Califax arrive a couple of hours later at the High Church of Delioch in the kingdom’s capital city.   Despite his past heresies, Califax is admitted and tended to, while Dranko is granted audience with Tomnic the Follower.  

In that audience, Tomnic promises that Califax will be examined, and healed if possible of whatever the Black Circle has done to him.  Dranko tells the tale of the Circle’s recent defeat, and Tomnic is obviously pleased.  Still, Dranko finds him unimpressive as the spiritual zenith of his faith.  More like an officious bureaucrat, he thinks.  Tomnic requests that he be allowed to examine the powerfully evil tome discovered in Kallor, but Dranko becomes a bit evasive.   He says that he’ll have to check with the higher-ups in the Spire to be sure that it’s safe, and in any case figure out a safe way to transport it.  Privately Dranko thinks that Tomnic might not be able to withstand the power of the book, and intends to keep it far away from Hae Charagan if possible.

From there, the group heads to the gates of the Royal Palace, intending to make a report with Yale, the advisor to King Crunard IV.  They are given slight hassle at the gate by a bored guard named Lackland, who (when pressed by General Windstorm) agrees to have a written message delivered to Yale, and would they please wait here outside the gate until a return message is delivered?

While they wait, Kay hears suddenly the sound of a _sending_ inside her head.  She doesn’t recognize the sender, but the message is urgent:  * General – emergency north of Tal Hae.  Dangerous stench-beasts from Calnis swarming south and east.  Hundreds of them.   We lack available manpower.  Please assist immediately.*

Well, _that’s_ awfully inconvenient.  With only one _teleport_ remaining, there’s no way to get the whole Company back to Tal Hae today.  Since a reply to their letter to Yale hasn’t come back yet, Morningstar decides to press the issue, with a _sending_ directly to Yale: *It's Morningstar. I am waiting at gate for appointment with you. But received distress call from Tal Hae - Many Golguthrans - Can someone arrange teleport now?*

It turns out Yale isn’t even in the city – she’s down on the peninsula inspecting the armies fighting against the Delfiri.  But she returns the message:  * Morningstar, I'm in Hydra, but you can get a teleport scroll at palace from court wizard Nysturn. Password for day is "vigilance." Good luck.*

Kay again gets the attention of Lackland, tells him straight out that they’ve just spoken with the King’s advisor by magic, and that he’d better get them an audience with Nysturn in a hurry.  When the guard shows skepticism, Kay gives the password.  Lackland, allowed to come to his own conclusion about the consequences of non-compliance, runs off into the palace grounds.

A few minutes later he comes huffing and puffing back to the gate, and – between gasps – invites the party inside.  Nysturn will meet with then in ten minutes.   Leaving their weapons with the palace guard, they go to their meeting, and Nysturn, a nice old chap with a long white beard, lends them the two _teleport_ scrolls that they need from the palace archives.  

Kibi and Grey Wolf have finished casting _identify_ on some of the magic items recently removed from deceased Black Circle practitioners, when the others come _teleporting_ back to Kallor in the mid-afternoon.  Kay quickly briefs the others on the _sending_ regarding the stinkwiggles, and there is some hurried handing out of newly identified magic items.  A few minutes later, after numerous magical and logistical contortions involving more _teleports_, _reduces_ and _wind walks_, the entire party is flying out from Tal Hae toward the open farmland to the northeast.  Several of them are connected mentally via _Rary’s Telepathic Bond_, and all are scanning the ground for signs of stinkwiggles.  They don’t have long to wait.

The smell comes first.  Ordinary farmland manure is one thing, but the reek of stinkwiggles is many times stronger and many times fouler.   Even in wind-form they can smell it, the stench of rotting offal and carrion that wafts from the creatures’ bodies.   A few minutes later, the first stinkwiggle comes into view.  

There are several, and despite the urgent _sending_, they don’t appear to be swarming.  Rather, they’re contentedly munching on cow-dung, grazing mostly-peacefully.   “Mostly,” because nearby the cluster of creatures is a dead cow, and two more stinkwiggles are dining on its bloody flesh.  Rather than re-solidify to fight them, the Company flies on, hoping to get a better sense of the beasts’ dispersal and number.

There are more pockets of slowly moving stinkwiggles, but finally the party sees a herd of them, over 30 in number, striding quickly and methodically toward the nearby town of Tal Korum – where (incidentally) Dranko was raised.  The Company flies on to the town to warn them of the coming swarm.

The stinkwiggles and their accompanying odor are already the talk of the town, and many townsfolk are patrolling the dirt streets with pitchforks and clubs.  But none of them suspect that three dozen of the creatures are only a few minutes away from old Jonas’ Thorndike’s farm at the northern edge of town.  The head militiaman of the town is a pompous but competent fellow named Tankersley, who helps the Company organize a hasty defense.  This mostly consists of getting the people indoors, excepting some of the stronger militia, and putting the three men up on rooftops who both own bows and know how to use them.  Most of the people don’t recognize Dranko, who was only eleven when he was sent away to Tal Hae, but all of the Company are held in awe by the commoners of Tal Korum.  With their shiny armor and festoonery of armaments, they will certainly be able to defend the town!

Then the first wave of stinkwiggles arrives, the Company launches their attack, and it’s a rout for the good guys.  Stinkwiggles are engulfed in _fireballs_.  Stinkwiggles are filled with arrows.  Stinkwiggles are hacked with swords, bludgeoned with hammers, torn apart by _searing darkness_, and plunked with sling bullets.  The beasts are strong, but not _that_ strong, and their movement is ponderous.  The only time the fight gets interesting is when an especially large stinkwiggle arrives in one of the last waves – crusted over with a yellowish crystal.  The patterns of the crystal are familiar to most of the Company – clearly an Eye of Moirel has at one time used this beast.  But the Eye is not there now, and while this stinkwiggle is clearly the driving force behind the others, it is not much tougher than the others.  Less than two minutes after the battle is begun, thirty-three stinkwiggles lie dead along the northern borders of Tal Korum, and the townsfolk are peeking out of doorways, holding their noses and cheering.

…to be continued…


----------



## madriel

Nice little battle, Sagiro.

How many Eyes of Moirel have they tracked down now?


----------



## Krellic

Nice that after some earth-shattering battles the party actually get a showy and fairly easy(?) victory.

Of course Sagiro is just softening them up...


----------



## wolff96

madriel said:
			
		

> *How many Eyes of Moirel have they tracked down now? *




Sagiro I am not, obviously.

But the best I remember, they have two of the Eyes. They need one more to "go nowhere", if I recall correctly.


----------



## Sagiro

wolff96 said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Sagiro I am not, obviously.
> 
> But the best I remember, they have two of the Eyes. They need one more to "go nowhere", if I recall correctly. *



wolff96, you remember correctly.

The Company has two Eyes of Moirel in basement of the Greenhouse.  One was found in the eyesocket of a huge lizard, and another was pried from the skull of a skeleton.  The third Eye, which they need to "travel nowhere," (assuming they ever figure out what that means and want to do it), is in a place called Het Branoi, probably in northeastern Kivia.

As for the stinkwiggles -- you may recall a while back when a wizardess named Sarai won an Eye of Moirel in auction.  She took it back to her home in Calnis (the city 50 miles north of Tal Hae, and which had a stinkwiggle infestation for a while) for study.  Some months later Calnis was overrun and sacked by gnolls, after which rumors began to circulate about a giant crystal palace being built in the center of the city by a huge one-eyed gnoll chieftain. Soon after _that_ there was a strange mass exodus of gnolls and kobolds out of the city and back to the mountains, after which the city walls became sealed by yellow crystal.

For many months after, no one knew what was happening inside Calnis.  The Company toyed with the idea of investiagting, but always seemed to have something better to do.  Then, not long ago, all of the crystal on the city walls vanished.   With the war going on, no official investigation has been sent to find out what's going on there now, but reports are that people have been slowly trickling back in to sort through the wreckage.  

No one knows what has become of the Eye of Moirel that belonged to Sarai.

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 148 *_

The following was mostly written by PirateCat as part of his character's backstory.  I've made some small additions and changes.

*cue flashback*

It is just over 10 years ago, and a straight rain is falling hard and cold.   Mellendiel Brightmirror peeks out the window of the rickety covered wagon and watches trees and farms roll past, blurred by the downpour.  Idly he rubs a swollen bruise on his face, still sore after four days.  A neighborhood kid had thrown a rock at him while he was preparing to leave Tal Korum, cutting his cheek and slightly chipping one of his tusk-like lower teeth.

He thinks about the kid – an older boy of almost thirteen called Spark.  Spark is considered a good lad in town, smart, helpful, always respectful of his elders.  Nobody had seen him throw the rock, and no one would have believed Mellendiel had he felt like complaining.  But Mellendiel had said nothing.  Plenty of kids had hurled stones at him over the years, and he at them.  But now he was leaving them all behind, and there was no point in continuing any feuds.  He is being taken to Tal Hae, the Great Wooden City, to be made a slave of the church.

No one had ever actually used the word “slave,” but Mellendiel knows that’s what is meant.  His grandfather, Cormin, has been telling him for years that someday he would be shipped to Tal Hae to be made a ward of the Church of Delioch.  They’d show him.  If Mellendiel thought his grandfather a harsh taskmaster, he would be in for a rude awakening in Tal Hae.  The Church would be unwavering in its discipline, and would not be anywhere near as patient as his grandfather with his truancy and thieving.  

Mellendiel hates his grandfather, and that hate is returned in kind.  Only his kindly grandmother Sarabel has kept Cormin from administering even more severe beatings all through the years of his youth.  Still, Cormin is quick to apply a healthy bit of corporal punishment for any number of misdeeds.   Mellendiel often deserves it, to be sure, but that does not soften his sullen resentment.  He knows the source of his grandfather’s hatred, and his own helpless role therein.  Cormin has never made any secret of the tale of Mellendiel’s birth.

Mellendiel’s mother, Saramin Lightbellow, had lived in Tal Korum with her new husband Dalsmith.  Only three months after their midsummer wedding the town was overrun and partially burned in an attack by the Heartcarver Tribe of orcs.  By the time the Stormknights arrived or any militia was organized, the orcs had looted the town and returned to their hills.  It is thought that the fairly rare attack occurred at the demand of the tribal shaman, Gruschak of the Five Eyes, who predicted that the winter would be harsh and thus the tribe would need additional food stores to survive.  Ironically, the following winter was the mildest in fourteen years.

During the attack, Dalsmith was cut down by three orc soldiers while defending his forge and his wife.  Saramin was discovered sometime later -- horribly abused and bleeding internally, she had survived the attack, but was lapsed into a deep sleep from which even the Healer’s apprentice (for the Healer had been slain in a single blow by the Orcish champion) could not lift her.

In the weeks that followed, Saramin’s parents were summoned, for they were worshippers of Delioch and could care for the girl.  Under their care Saramin regained her consciousness but not her wits.  She would slip into and out of a delirium, never truly understanding where she was or what had happened.  Worse, it was soon obvious that the girl was pregnant.  No one knew for sure whether it was a child of Dalsmith or of the orc raiders, but both Cormin and Sarabel Brightmirror prayed for the best while fearing the worst for their daughter.  

As Saramin’s time grew near, her health worsened and her delirium grew worse.  Concerned, her father Cormin left Tal Korum for the Church of Delioch in Tal Hae, in the hopes of bringing back a more experienced Woundtender than the village possessed.  Cormin’s foresight was wise, but luck was not on his side, for Saramin went into labor that same night he left.
The labor was a long one, and the small wooden house often rang with screams of pain.  Saramin was lucid through part of it, and despite the pain, she begged her mother to care for the child if she could not.  Secretly, Cormin and Sarabel had agreed that if the child were orcish, it would be better for all concerned if the baby were left in the wilderness; Sarabel agreed to her daughter’s wishes nonetheless.  

When the baby was born, it was clear that the child was not entirely human.  The baby boy had a grayish-black tongue, and the shape of his face carried the hint of an orcish strain.  Other than this, he was a healthy screaming child, and Sarabel was able to hold and feed him before she finally died the next day.  When Cormin returned with a Healer, it was to find his daughter dead and his wife stubbornly refusing to give up the inhuman baby that had killed once already.  

The child was taken to the Brightmirrors’ home under Sarabel’s protection and over Cormin’s protestations.  There they named him Mellendiel, and old elvish name meaning “Unexpected”, and raised him as best they could.  

Mellendiel’s childhood was not especially pleasant.  Other than a neighbor’s large dog, he had no friends to speak of.  The village boys all taunted him and threw rocks when they could, and gangs of boys beat him up whenever they caught him.  Pieter Roofswallow, one of the worst bullies, made up the nickname “Coaltongue.”   Mellendiel became a loner, sullen and angry, and spent much of his free time tormenting his pursuers with malicious pranks.

At home, things weren’t much better.  He received distant affection from his grandmother, who tried to protect him from the worst of his grandfather’s rages.  His Grandfather, however, grew progressively colder and more distant to him.  His grandfather grew more and more religious, often spending hours praying while Mellendiel would do chores about the house.

Mellendiel survived in this unhappy environment until age 11.  In the winter his Grandmother took ill and died within two days.  The death plunged his grandfather into a black depression, and it was but two weeks after the funeral that Mellendiel found himself being taken by wagon to Tal Hae.

That was four days ago.  Mellendiel’s grandfather has hardly spoken a word to him during the journey, which is a blessing to the boy.   In a few hours they will arrive in Tal Hae, and he will never have to see his grandfather again.

The driver curses as the carriage becomes stuck.  The dirt road is sodden, the wheel-ruts filled with mud in the heavy rain, and Mellendiel is ordered out to help push. He does so with neither complaint nor enthusiasm.  Half and hour later he gets back into the carriage, drenched and dripping.  His grandfather glares at him, as the wagon lumbers slowly forward. 

As the hours pass and the daylight wanes behind the sheets of rain, the farms become more numerous outside and they start to pass other travelers on the road.  A few minutes later Mellendiel is staring wide-eyed at the towering wooden walls of Tal Hae.   He has never seen a city before – the crowds, the shops, the clusters of beggars and urchins in the streets.  A few minutes later the wagon is pulling up to a large wood and brick cathedral, the Healing Hand symbol of Delioch prominent above its façade.  His grandfather motions at him to get out.  

A man stands outside the church, awaiting his arrival.  When he sees the half-orcish boy, his lips quirk in a cruel smile. Mellendiel sees that the man’s face is covered with scars.  “You’ll get yours soon enough,” his grandfather laughs.  “As I’ve often told you, the Scarbearers of Delioch understand punishment.   You’ll finally pay right for your behavior.”

Mellendiel gets out and stands in the rain, and the scarred cleric walks over to speak briefly with Cormin.  “I am called Califax,” the man says.  “This is the boy?”

Cormin nods, and pushes his grandson forward. 

 “See if you can’t make something of yourself, make up for all the pain you’ve caused” are the last works his Grandfather says, before he rides away from the Church’s gate in the old black wagon.

One of the first things offered to the new initiate is the chance to choose a new name, as a symbol of his new life in the church.  Mellendiel immediately chooses “Dranko,” an orcish word meaning “Unwelcome.”


----------



## Fade

Lots of updates! Cool!


----------



## Plane Sailing

Aww, that is a really sad background for Dranko. It is unfortunately too easy to picture it as a completely realistic childhood too.

Mind you, he's come on a bit, eh?


----------



## Quartermoon

Perhaps Dranko will choose a new name...on the day he marries Morningstar...


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 149 *_

With the stinkwiggles dispatched, the unpleasant cleanup effort begins.   Tankersley takes charge, ordering crews of townsfolk to start gathering and burning the bodies of the creatures.  He relays the important warning from the Company that they should avoid direct contact with the carcasses, which could easily transmit disease.  Despite the horrid smell, many small children are out and about trying to catch of glimpse of the heroes who saved Tal Korum.  They are particularly curious about the halflings and Kibi – they’ve led sheltered enough lives to have never seen halflings and dwarves before.  Scree tries to offer a friendly greeting, but the animated pile of rocks scares most of the kids away.   Another child makes the comment:  “Those other two wizards have a monkey and a cat.  How come you only got a bunch of rocks?”  Kibi is not amused.

Helping coordinate things post-battle, Dranko finally gets some recognition from the townsfolk.  They remember him as little Mellendiel Brightmirror, a mean little prankster, but time, to say nothing of in-your-face heroism, has a way of mellowing old memories.  Dranko cringes at each utterance of his birth name, but accepts various compliments with good grace.  It seems that the entire town has forgiven him his delinquent youth – with one exception.

Ernie spots Dranko’s grandfather, Cormin, helping one of the clean-up crews.  He jogs over and tries to strike up a conversation about Dranko.  

“Greetings sir,” he starts cheerily.  “My name is Ernest, and I’m a friend of Dranko.  I really think you should talk to him.  He’s a much different and better person than you’re giving him credit for.”

Cormin just snorts and turns his back to the halfling.  Ernie goes straight from cheerful to incensed.  “Why are you being so stubborn?  You won't solve anything by ignoring him!”

Dranko’s grandfather stops and turns slowly around.  “Listen.  You don’t realize what a blessing it’s been to be _able_ to ignore him.  Delioch knows it was impossible when he lived here.  It was a good riddance to him, and it still is.”  He again turns his back on Ernie, and walks away to rejoin his crew.  Ernie turns red, but doesn’t pursue.

The mayor of Tal Korum, a tall woman named Larissa, walks over to the Company to inform them that, in the evening, there will be a celebratory dinner in their honor for their role in saving the town.   They graciously accept her invitation to join them at the town meeting hall.   Dranko thinks that might make a good place to try reconciliation with his grandfather.   But as the guests arrive, mostly farmers and farmer’s wives (with the latter bringing a variety of fine-smelling platters), Cormin ends up a no-show.  There is much feasting, and a short speech by the mayor followed by great applause for the Company, but three hours later, as most of the guests are going back to their homes, Dranko stands and looks around in disappointment.  He turns to Morningstar.

“I guess I’m going to have to go to him,” he says.  “I don’t want the others along, but I do want you… as we’re engaged to be married and everything.    For one thing, he’d never believe me without evidence.”

Dranko and Morningstar walk out into the warm summer night, where a lucky breeze is blowing the stink of the stinkwiggles back into the fields and away from the town.  They walk down the dirt streets, waving back to several grateful townsfolk they pass, until they arrive and Cormin’s small house. 

The rest of the Company, eager to eavesdrop, send the trio of familiars to follow.  And as soon as Dranko and Morningstar are out of sight, Grey Wolf and Aravis grab the mayor as she’s on her way out of the meeting hall.  

“Excuse me,” Aravis says politely.  “We have a favor to ask.”

“Anything, of course!” beams Larissa.

“We were wondering,” Grey Wolf says, “If you were planning on making this any sort of town holiday.”

“I had thought about it, yes.” Larissa answers.  Something like “Victory Day.”  I hope you could make it back every year to celebrate, since it would be in your honor, after all.”

“Actually,” says Aravis, “It was Dranko who was most responsible for us coming to save the town.   And seeing as this was his hometown growing up, we thought it would be nice if you could name the holiday after him.  ‘Dranko Day,’ or something like it.”

“That’s a splendid idea!” exclaims Larissa.  “Though people here don’t remember him as “Dranko.”  I think we should use his old name.  “How does ‘Mellendiel Day’ sound?

Aravis and Grey Wolf grin.  That sounds just fine.

At his grandfather’s house, Dranko knocks, but there’s no answer. 

“Grandfather, it’s me!  Come open the door.”

There’s no answer from inside.  Dranko tries the door, but it’s locked.  

“Oh, for crying out…”  Dranko applies a bit of skill, and a bit of force, and the door pops open.  Inside, he and Morningstar are greeted by the tang of alcohol and the sound of Cormin muttering to himself from the other room.  Dranko goes to stand in the doorway, and shakes his head at the sight of his grandfather slumped over in a chair, a one-third-full bottle of cheap wine nearby on a table.  The old man looks up and his face darkens.  “Go away,” he slurs.  (Pewter and Edghar have found windows at which to listen.  Scree has poked an eye through the floor into the darkest corner of the room.)

Dranko sighs, points a finger at Cormin, and utters an Orison to quick-sober his drunken relative.  Cormin sits bolt upright, grips his head, and then glares at his grandson.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” he snaps.  “But now that you’ve done it, get out.”

“Not until we talk about some things,” Dranko says.  He notices then that his grandfather is shaking, possibly coming down with filth fever from the stink-wiggles.  “You’re sick,” he points out.

“I am not.  I feel fine.”

Morningstar grins in spite of herself.  “I see where you get your stubbornness from.”

Dranko turns to Morningstar.  “Would you cure him?”

“He has to ask me, Dranko” Morningstar reminds him.  

“Dranko?” Cormin snaps.  “Why are you calling him that?  His name’s Mellendiel.  Mellendiel Brightmirror.  Though Delioch knows he’s nothing but a blight on the family name.”

“Grandfather, Dranko’s the name I’ve used since you… since I left.  Now would you please ask Morningstar here to heal you?  We both know you’re sick.”

“Hmph.  If I do, will you promise to leave afterward?”

Dranko sighs.  “Yes, I promise.  If that’s what you want.”

“Fine,” answers Cormin.  He turns to Morningstar.  “Go ahead and heal me then, if you can.  And just who are you, anyway?”

“Ah, forgive me.  Grandfather, this is Morningstar.  She’s a priestess of Ell, and… my fiancée.”

Cormin snorts, and then starts to chuckle.  “Oh, please.  Who in their right mind would agree to marry _you_?”

Morningstar steps forward.  “I would.  Sir, I don’t know what Dranko was like as a child, but this man here is one of the bravest and kindest men I have ever met.  He has saved my life and the lives of others on numerous occasions, and he serves with an elite group that has defended Charagan against many threats.  Including the one that just attacked your town today.”

Cormin gazes levelly at her for a moment before replying.  “So, Mellendiel, how much did you have to pay her for that bit of tripe?  Kind and brave?  There isn’t a bone in your body that isn’t malicious and cowardly, and we both know it.  That battle today, even.  By all accounts your _friends_ fought bravely to defend the town, but you were nowhere to be seen.  And then you come here with some dressed up slattern claiming to be a priestess and your betrothed to boot.  You never did know how to lie.”

Dranko opens his mouth, not sure whether to explain about invisibility magic and how it helps his fighting style, or to defend the honor of his fiancee.  He doesn’t get the chance to do either.  Morningstar stands tall, and calls a personal darkness around her; the room becomes immersed in dark shadow, with Morningstar’s form a black silhouette against the twilight gray.  “I do not lie about my religion,” she says sternly.  “I am a Priestess of Ell, just as Dranko is an honored cleric of Delioch.  You do us both a disservice with your stubbornness.  Here…”

She casts a prayer, and Cormin’s tremors slowly cease.

Cormin’s lips quiver, and a conflicted look crosses his face.  But when he finds his tongue again, he sneers, “So you’re a priestess, then.   And my grandson is a priest.  Good for you both.  Mellendiel, I hope it’s given you the opportunity to make up for all that you put me through, though I doubt it.”

“It has,” Dranko says.   “Look, I won’t pretend that I wasn’t a horrible little sh*t.  I was an outcast, and I didn’t handle it well.  I know I put you through a lot, and I’m sorry.  But… well, mostly I wanted you to meet the woman I’m going to marry.   And, I guess, to see if we couldn’t patch things up.  We’re family.”

“Family?” Cormin whispers harshly.  “You didn’t even keep your family name.  What does ‘Dranko’ mean, anyway?”

“It’s orcish,” Dranko says.  When his grandfather glowers, Dranko continues, “I looked it up when I got to the church, the very first day.  They make you take a new name there, and I knew the name I wanted.  Dranko means ‘unloved.’

Cormin looks up, wide-eyed.  Suddenly his face contorts, and his body becomes racked with sobs.  Through his tears he says, “By Delioch’s healing hands, there’s not a day that’s passed in the last 15 years that I haven’t though about my daughter, and the monsters who killed her.  And poor Dalsmith, who died protecting her.  He was such a good man.   I loved them both, so much…”  

He looks at Dranko with puffy eyes.  “Dranko, I look at you, and all I can see are those… those beasts who… who attacked… who killed my daughter.  I’m sorry… I know it’s not fair…”

Cormin lapses into uncontrolled sobbing for a few minutes.  Dranko puts his hand on the old man’s shoulder, and Cormin does not flinch.   (The three familiars decide it’s time to stop watching now, and slink away…)

“Grandfather, forgiveness is a tough thing.  It took me a long time to forgive you for shipping me off to Tal Hae.  But I did it.  Let it go.”

A minute goes by and Cormin says nothing, but when he looks up again, something in his face has changed.  The corners of his mouth turn up in an unfamiliar smile.  

“Morningstar,” he says, “you do realize what you’re getting yourself into, don’t you?  I never thought there’d be a woman on this earth with enough patience to spend an afternoon with Mellendiel, let alone _marry_ him.  Gods, did he ever tell you about what he did to the Roofswallow’s barn?   Or the bucket of tar he rigged to fall on old man Cartwright, that nearly suffocated him?  Or the frogs?  Mellendiel, where in Delioch’s name did you find so many frogs?  You never told me.  You never even admitted it.”

“I… uh…” Dranko stammers, looking guilty.  “I found where they were breeding, down by the stream.  I saved them up.  It was just supposed to be a joke.”

Cormin turns to Morningstar.  “Those frogs got into the food stores that were supposed to last us through the winter.  We had to burn most of them.  The extra hours we had to work that year just to stay fed would have pushed anyone to distraction.  And in the end there still wasn’t enough; we had to beg food from our neighbors on many a night that year.”

Morningstar laughs.  “Dranko has changed, but he still has some of that old streak in him.   I’ll be able to handle him.”

“Good, good.”  Cormin smiles again, and his face is clearly unaccustomed to the expression.  Several more moments pass in silence, as if neither Dranko nor his grandfather wants to risk breaking their emerging truce.  Then Cormin yawns.  “I think I need to be getting to bed.   Mellendiel, it’s… it’s not all going to heal overnight.  I’ll need some time to think things over.  I’ve been feeding these feelings for a long time.”

“I understand,” Dranko says.  “We have to leave in the morning, but we’ll come back and visit you from time to time, I promise.  And I’ll look into getting you some help, someone to do chores and look after the place.  I owe you that much, for… er…  past transgressions.”

Dranko and Morningstar turn to go.  As they reach the doorway, Cormin says quietly, “Thanks for forcing your way in.”  Dranko looks sheepishly at the busted latch on the front door.  

“I’ll get that fixed tomorrow before we go, I promise.  I’ll make sure that…”

“Mellendiel.  I didn’t mean the door.  Good night.”

…to be continued…


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## Samnell

Awwwww....


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## RangerWickett

That . . . 

*teary eyed*

I wanna give Dranko a hug, so he'll change his name to somethin' happier.  I mean, sure . . . in the grand scheme of literature, it might not be much, but it still did make me choke up.  Good job, Sagiro.

That's it, Kevin, I'm giving you a hug at next GenCon.  :*)

":*)" means a smiley face with a tear coming from one eye.


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## Duncan Haldane

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> *That's it, Kevin, I'm giving you a hug at next GenCon.  :*)
> *




Does he have to be sunburnt at the time? 

Great post, Sagiro.

Duncan


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## Carnifex

Awww


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## Milo Windby

Getting choked up is the last thing I expect when I log in to the story hour forum.  I'm impressed, Sagiro.  Same to PC for the great backstory that made it possible.


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## madriel

Awwww...that was a beautiful moment.


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## Piratecat

He left out the bit where he claimed I came to bum money off of him and I emptied my _Heward's Handy Haversack_ onto the table. Then he claimed I stole them all.

Stubborn old coot.  But he's _my_ coot.  And we brought him around.

Morningstar's player was magnificent, as was Sagiro.  You see the gradual change he's made from true neutral to neutral good, over the past three or so years in game.  This "reunion" was one of my favorite moments of the entire seven year campaign.


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## Zaruthustran

Good grief. That was beautiful. I didn't expect to encounter emotion when reading a fan D&D site. At least, not that particular emotion.

Great work!

-z

PS: I'll repeat for the thousandth-and-one time, "MAKE THIS CAMPAIGN INTO A NOVEL!!!!!!"


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## Ancalagon

Awesome post!  Best update in a long, long time!

Ancalagon


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## shadowthorn

I don't pop into the Story Hour thread expecting to get choked up, but you fooled me again, Sagiro! Awesome roleplaying, PC et al. Somebody ought to novelize this when it's all said and done. Blows away about half of the fantasy books being pulp-marketed today.

Kudos.


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## Sagiro

I'm glad you folks enjoyed the write-up of that session -- it was one of my favorites as well.   Truly fine role-playing by Morningstar's player and by Piratecat.  They made it easy to get real emotion out of a scene when it was called for.  I also liked the sheepish look on the other players' faces when they remembered that their familiars were snooping on such a personal moment.  

On with the story!

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 150 *_

*Sunday, July 21- Tuesday, July 23*

The next day the Company splits up.  Through a combination of _teleport_ and _wind walk_ spells, most of the party goes home to the Greenhouse in Tal Hae, while Kibi, Morningstar and Grey Wolf go back to Kallor to tidy up some loose ends.  Grey Wolf rescues the bones of his father from the oily pit below the city.  Morningstar blesses them, and they are given a proper burial beneath a spreading tree in the backyard of one of their new estates.  

Kibi spends some time inspecting the huge Black Circle Ritual Room, remembering that the Black Circle enchantments keeping it from collapse won’t last indefinitely.  He figures out where a few stone columns should shore it up, and instructs Morningstar as she casts _wall of stone_ in some key places.   When she is done, Kibi is satisfied that there will not be a catastrophic collapse of the surrounding buildings into the huge gaping pit.  

Speaking of which: the three of them spend some time walking through their new houses, which are generally only one or two stories, but roomy and elegant.   Captain Cobb is busy moving his family into the vacated estate of Lord Southinghorn.   In the drawing room of the manse formerly occupied by Lord Cosnor, a man comes to the door and clears his throat.  He is tall and well dressed, and in a smooth, oily voice introduces himself as Farris, the major domo of the estate.  While most of the former staff has fled, he and a few others have stayed behind to assist the new masters in anything they might need.   

They thank him, but thinking it prudent they also cast _detect magic_ and _detect evil_ on him.  He is not evil, and has no magic on him, but there _is_ powerful magic coming from a nearby wall.  A large 4’ x 6’ painting hanging there (a sunny landscape complete with trees, pond and ducks) is strong in both Illusion and Conjuration magic.

Farris shows them the most interesting feature of the upper floors, which is a large orrery beneath a retractable roof.  It’s a huge contraption with spinning planets and moons against a backdrop of stars, set in motion by a switch at the base of the wall.  Lord Cosnor used to spend many evenings up with the orrery, but never allowed Farris or the other house staff to be present.

After dismissing Farris for the evening, they investigate the magical painting.  A bit of poking around reveals that the bucolic landscape is an illusion and that the picture frame is really a magical gateway into an unknown space.  To Morningstar and Grey Wolf’s horror, Kibi sticks his arm through, and then pulls it back.   Before the dwarf can put his head through to look inside, the other two pull him away.  

“Are you crazy?” says Morningstar.  “This place was owned by the Black Circle. That painting could go anywhere.  What if there’s another Black Circle temple or something on the other side?”

“I didn’t feel anything,” says Kibi, shrugging.  “I’ll bet it’s fine.”

But the paranoia of the others wins the moment.  They try a number of ploys to learn about the painting without actually sticking body parts through.  Grey Wolf tosses a candlestick tied to a rope into the painting, then quickly pulls it out again.  It’s unharmed.   As a second experiment, they untie the rope and toss the candlestick inside, after which Kibi casts _locate object_ to find it.  Nothing.  Kibi goes outside, casts _fly_, and searches all around Kallor for the candlestick via the spell.  Still nothing.  Wherever the painting goes, it’s either more than several hundred feet away, or on another plane. 

Back in Cosnor’s drawing room, Kibi can’t contain his curiosity, and before the others can stop him, he sticks his head through the painting.  A few seconds later he pulls it back out, a big grin on his face.

“See?  Nothing ate me.  It’s just a small room with no windows or doors.”  He grins.  “But there are some barrels and trunks around the edges of the room, a stack of bricks, and a bunch of coins scattered on the floor.  I think it’s a treasure room!”

Kibi wants to go in immediately and start opening the trunks, but Grey Wolf and Morningstar convince him to wait for Flicker to check them for traps.  A _sending_, some _reduces_ and a _teleport_ later, the whole Company is assembled in their new estate, crowded eagerly around the painting.  Dranko, Morningstar, Kibi and Flicker crawl through the mahogany frame and into a small, damp room with earthen walls, ceiling and floor, supported with wooden posts. Morningstar checks the room for both evil and magic but finds neither.  Flicker discovers (and easily disarms) some needle traps on the trunks and starts popping them open; coins glint in the light of their _continual flame_ torch.  Flicker’s eyes widen.  There are twenty trunks, each overflowing with gold and silver pieces.  He does some quick guessing and figures there are probably about 100,000 coins all told.  

The six barrels are even better.  They are filled to various degrees with small gems!  Flicker takes a few minutes to appraise a random sampling, does some more figuring, and guesses that their total worth could be over 100,000 gold pieces.   And it gets even better – the “bricks” stacked by one wall of the room are silver, gold and platinum trade bars, worth another 30,000 gold pieces.  That brings the total value of the Black Circle’s treasury to almost 200,000 gp.  Flicker and Dranko weep with joy while giving themselves a treasure bath in a half-full barrel of gems.  Morningstar rolls her eyes and shoos them out of the room, where they tell the others (waiting expectantly) about the haul.   The next day they will use the _bag of holding_ to get the loot back to Tal Hae, and start some much-anticipated crafting of magic items.

When everyone else has gone to bed, Morningstar sneaks down to the drawing room, looks about furtively, and climbs into the painting.   With an embarrassed yet blissful smile on her face, she digs her hands into a barrel of gems, and sprinkles them onto her head, letting them fall back into the barrel and onto the floor.

Ah, what a lovely sound.  

…to be continued…


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## RangerWickett

Aww . . . her fiance's rubbing off on her.  How cute.  

Remind who plays Morningstar in real life.  I seem to recall that it's not KidCthulhu, right?


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## madriel

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> *Aww . . . her fiance's rubbing off on her.  How cute.
> 
> Remind who plays Morningstar in real life.  I seem to recall that it's not KidCthulhu, right? *




KidCthulhu's playing Ernie.

Ah, the burden of dignity.


----------



## Fade

So are the Company going to claim the treasure on the standard principal that 'if we had to kill someone to get it, it's ours'? I can see some heavy taxes in their future....


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## Sagiro

Fade said:
			
		

> *So are the Company going to claim the treasure on the standard principal that 'if we had to kill someone to get it, it's ours'? I can see some heavy taxes in their future.... *



Darn right!  As you'll see a few installments from now, they've already spent most of it crafting magic items.

And technically, back in the very first session of the game, Abernathy did tell them that their primary job benefit would be that they could keep what treasure they found while fighting evil.

-Sagiro


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## Zaruthustran

Wow. Reading Abernathy's name reminded me of how very far The Company has come.


----------



## Sagiro

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> *Wow. Reading Abernathy's name reminded me of how very far The Company has come. *



That would be about 12 levels.  

The players' favorite indication of character growth is that now _they_ withhold information from _others_ because "it's too dangerous for them to know."

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 151 *_

*Wednesday, July 25*

Sitting cross-legged in the center of the Greenhouse living room, Flicker lets out a contented sight.  Around him are piles of gems on the floor, stacks of gems on the low table, gems being batted around by cats and (in all likelihood) gems that have found their way into a few hidden pockets.  The other members of the Company are nearby, eating lunch and waiting for the final tally.

“Including the trade bars, I’d say we’ve got about 190,000 gold pieces worth of loot out of that place.  The Black Circle must have been building up that nest egg for years!”

Even after several generous donations to various churches, that still leaves enough left over for plenty of the exotic ingredients required for making magic items.  The Company has started to make shopping lists when there is a knock on the door.    A messenger delivers a letter to Eddings, which he passes to Kay.  It seems that their royal uniforms are ready to be picked up at the palace tailor, at their convenience.

“All right!” Dranko exclaims, and at his urging, they leave for the palace grounds straight away.   The tailor, a nice old lady named Bella, makes them all change into the new uniforms on the spot, and then makes some impromptu alterations while they stand there.  They are ornate but tasteful, crimson with gold trim, bearing the royal crest of Charagan – a fish over a sword.  Wearing them, the Company will be now be recognized as soldiers of the King’s Guard, as Kay had requested.  

“Pulling rank will be a breeze in these,” Dranko notes.

While they’re in the neighborhood, Kay makes an appointment for the Company to debrief with Duke Nigel of Harkran the following afternoon, since they _still_ haven’t made any official report to the Spire about their defeat of Mokad.

Back at the Greenhouse, while Ernie prepares dinner, there is another knock on the door.

Eddings grabs his _continual flame_ coin from its pouch, opens the door a crack, and shines the light in the face of the man standing outside.  But there’s no cause for alarm – it’s Sutton, their erstwhile replacement-navigator hired on after Makel’s departure.  He squints straight into the light and clears his throat.

“Yeah, yeah I remember the drill,” he says, walking past Eddings into the house.  “I ain’t no crazy body-possessin’ critter.  Not today, anyways.  I just figgered I’d drop by and remind you that you still had me on retainer.”

“We haven’t forgotten,” Morningstar says.  “We’ve just been very busy lately, and haven’t had any reason to sail anywhere.”

“You think you might need me anytime soon?” Sutton asks hopefully.

“Er…we’re not really sure,” says Aravis.  

“Well, I wondered if you’d mind, then, if I went and did a bit o’ sailin’ on my own.  I’m itchin’ for a rocking deck beneath my feet.  Antsy for the ocean and all that.  It’d just be a short job, two weeks maybe, but I’d be out of touch.”

The Company assures him that that’s fine.  Ernie brings him some fresh rolls for his trouble.  If anyone notices his wide-eyed stare when he spots Flicker’s stacks of gems on the floor, they are polite enough not to point it out.

*Wednesday, July 26*

Duke Nigel lets out a long, slow breath.

Before him in his audience chamber, the Company has just given him a full report of Mokad’s operation in Kallor.  The closeness of the shave is not lost on him.

“Abernathy chose well when he selected you,” he says.  “Charagan is indebted to you once again.  I wish time and circumstance could allow for a celebration, but I still fear for the Spire and the Kingdom.”

“Has something specific happened?” asks Aravis

“Not as such,” says Nigel.  “But Ozilinsh isn’t the only Archmage who’s gone silent.  It’s all of them.  No one else in the Spire has heard a word from an Archmage in weeks, and the most likely explanation is not promising.  They must be being put to the test, out there in their towers…”

He gestures vaguely toward a window.

“…spending all of their energy and focus on their task.  We must face the possibility that Naradawk is making _his_ final push, and that our wizards may fail.  I believe that we should be repositioning troops to Verdshane.”

“But what about the Nifi worshippers?” asks Flicker.  “Aren’t the…?”

“Yes.”  Nigel snaps.  “The Delfiri still press us on the peninsula.  I wouldn’t propose giving up the southern theatre.  In fact, soldiers we’ve already recommitted to the fight with the Delfiri have allowed us to push the front back in recent days. But we have other troops who were in more demanding engagements with the humanoid forces, and who have not yet been reassigned to the Balani.  We were hoping that they could have time to recover before being thrown back into the fray, but I feel that is not a luxury we have.  We could field a force of two thousand troops near Verdshane without devastating our defenses elsewhere. 

“I hate Verdshane,” Dranko mumbles.

“At least the news from there is good,” says Nigel.  “No more monsters have escaped from the hanging boxes, no sign of change in the stasis field around the gate.  And no sign of that woman… Meledien.”

The Duke sighs.  “I wish I knew where Rosetta and Etria had gone.”

“Rosetta?” Ernie asks.  The Company is immediately on edge at the mention of her name.

“She took my court wizardess and a dozen guards off on some kind of ‘secret mission’ against Black Circle interests.  That was a few days ago.  I don’t know when to expect her return.”

No members of the Company voice their vague suspicions of Rosetta out loud to the Duke.  There is an awkward silence.

“Ah, I must get back to work,” the Duke says finally.  “I’ll send word should we have need of you.  You should do likewise, if you learn anything new, or hear from Ozilinsh.”

Back at the Greenhouse Eddings has taken control of the ice-box, so dinner is happily free of Skorg’s culinary influence.  There is some preliminary discussion around the table about what to do next, and the group decision is to spend some down time training and crafting magic items, until the next crisis hits.  

As dinner ends and Eddings starts bringing out dessert, the sound of a violent wind comes from the Greenhouse chimney.

…to be continued…


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## Nail

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *.....the group decision is to spend some down time training and crafting magic items, until the next crisis hits.
> 
> As dinner ends and Eddings starts bringing out dessert, the sound of a violent wind comes from the Greenhouse chimney.
> 
> …to be continued… *




Now, why am I not surprised they won't have any of that "down time"?


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## Zaruthustran

Wind could be good. Kay being Kay, and all.


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## Piratecat

Err. Not so much. Unless you like angry wizards attached to your wind.


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## Zaruthustran

Doh.


----------



## Sparrowhawk

*WARNING! MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS!*

Dedicated lurker here, checking in on his favorite story hour.  I'd like you to know that I keep playing D&D (and RPGs in general) because of this and other story hours on this board.  Knowing that games this good exist gives me hope that I might one day take part in one.

Dranko's confrontation with his grandfather is a touching moment indeed.  This game has had several already, most memorably the death of Abernathy; and Ernie lecturing Solomea's father (or rather, the memory of his father) inside the Crosser's Maze.  It's these times that make this story the best IMO.

Now, did somebody say it was an angry wizard coming through the chimney?  I really hope that's not who I think it is.  Looking back to when the Company fought P's simulacrum, the highest spell it cast was _Chain Lightening_, I believe.  That would put the real Parthol Runecarver at 18th-22nd level (or even higher!)  The Company's good, but they've been cought at the dinner table, probably completely unarmed.  Besides, what can they do to compete with _Wail of the Banshee_, _Prismatic Spray_, _Horrid Wilting_, and _Power Word, Kill_?

Also, I thought that the Greenhouse was supposed to be impregnable.  Considering that Abernathy was a centuries-old archmage, how could someone break through his protections?  Guess the Spire will have to find a new place to meet...

Anyway, *post another update!*  I know they didn't fight P.  But that makes me more impatient to know what happened!


----------



## Sparrowhawk

*Another thing!*

Once the story is all caught up, could ya'll post an updated version of the Company's "to do" list?  And how about the quote list?  Thanks once again for the story!


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 152 *_

The Company abruptly stops talking and listens for a moment.   Then they are all leaping backward out of their chairs and scrambling for weapons, except for Morningstar, who begins to cast _detect thoughts_.  As the others are arming, she casts about for minds and discovers one more than there should be.  A few seconds later she pinpoints that extra mind up near the top of the chimney, right at the source of the noise.  And the round after that she skims its inhuman surface thoughts, which are of frustration at being unable to descend any lower, and determination to keep trying.

Morningstar reports this to the rest of the party, and there is some tempered relief that the wards of the Greenhouse are still working.  Kibi goes over to the fireplace and cautiously extends his head, to look up with his darkvision.  He sees a swirling mass of cloud-like vapors up near the very top of the chimney.  He pulls back and stands up.  “I think it’s an air elemental.  It can’t get in.”

“An air elemental?” Aravis raises his eyebrows.  “It must have been summoned, by someone outside…”

“Should we go out, then?” Step is already headed for the door.

“Wait!” says Morningstar.  “I’m not prepared for a fight.  I don’t think we’re ready, in case it’s… another one of P’s _simulacra_.”

“We should at least try to spot him out the windows,” says Dranko.  

The front door of the Greenhouse begins to shake.  The Company looks on, weapons drawn, tense, as the door rattles loudly, glows softly for a moment and then quiets.  

“Ha!” says Ernie.  “That won’t work either.  Abernathy sure did…”

“What’s that?”  Aravis barks sharply, pointing at the center of the room.

Several heads swivel to look, but there is just empty air above the living room table.

“I see nothing,” says Step, frowning.

“There was a blurring in the air,” says Aravis.  “It was almost like… it was the size of a _scrying_ sensor, like someone was casting Clairv…”

Everyone sees what happens next.  A dark shape like a doorway’s shadow appears in the center of the Greenhouse living room.  It flickers out, flickers back in again.  It warbles like a reflection on a disturbed pond.   Then it winks out, leaving another soft glow behind.  Step lunges forward and swing his sword through the spot, harmlessly.  Grey Wolf casts _see invisibility_, but sees nothing. 

Aravis looks thoughtfully at the spot for a few seconds before speaking again.  “That was someone trying to _dimension door_ into the house.  Looks like it failed.”

From upstairs, another sound.  A window is rattling.  Dranko takes the stairs two at a time while the others fan out to various other windows.  Kibi also casts _see invisibility_, and soon everyone is looking out of windows, hoping to spot their attacker.  Dranko finds one window entirely frozen over (on the outside) and very cold to the touch, but unbroken.  

Minutes pass.  

Nothing.

An hour later, it seems that they have weathered the storm.

Flicker summarizes general sentiment.  “This sucks!”

The Company spends the remainder of the day inside, continuing to make plans and lists for magic item creation. The main list is long.  On it are numerous potions and scrolls as well as wands, amulets, sashes, vests, shields, and (to Ernie’s delight) a new Flying Carpet.  Divided up efficiently among the many party members with the requisite feats, it could take two or three months to make everything on the list.  This discovery segues into a discussion of what urgent tasks the Company might have to undertake – or might _want_ to undertake – in the near future.   Maybe they should go to Kivia now, to find Het Branoi and its Eye of Moirel.  But what if Aravis (and the Crosser’s Maze) are needed in the meantime?

The debate continues for hours before they decide to consult a higher power.  Morningstar prays for a few minutes for the spell of _commune_ before retiring to her room, invoking a _personal darkness_, and asking for the wisdom of Ell.

_Is leaving for Kivia in order to get the Eye of Moirel the best course of action to prevent the Emperor from coming through to Charagan?_

*NO*

_If we leave for Kivia in nine weeks, will the Crosser’s Maze be needed before we return, to prevent the Emperor from coming through to Charagan?_

*MOST LIKELY*

_Was “P” or his agents responsible for today’s attack on the Greenhouse?_

*YES*

_Have “P” or his agents tried everything he (or they) can to get into the Greenhouse?_

*NO*

_Will “P” try again?_

*YES, OR AN AGENT*

_Would we be likely to be successful in finding and taking out Parthol Runecarver?_

*NO, NOT AT PRESENT*

_Are the Eyes of Moirel safe in the Greenhouse?_

*AS SAFE AS THEY WISH*

_Is pursuing the Black Circle the best course of action to prevent the Emperor from coming through to Charagan?_

*NO*

_Is pursuing the Sharshun the best course of action to prevent the Emperor from coming through to Charagan?_

*NO*

_Is investigating Calnis the best course of action to prevent the Emperor from coming through to Charagan?_

*NO*

_Is pursuing the remaining red-armored soldiers the best course of action to prevent the Emperor from coming through to Charagan?_

*NO*


Morningstar offers a prayer of thanks for these divine answers.  “You’re welcome,” a voice sounds in her soul.   She returns to the others to share her new intelligence.  

“That’s good news,” says Dranko.

The others turn to look, puzzled.

“It means we shouldn’t feel like we need to run out and kill Parthol Runecarver.”

“Yeah, that’s a relief,” says Flicker, rolling his eyes.

“What I think it means,” says Aravis, “is that I’d better figure out how to use the Crosser’s Maze to stop the Emperor, and soon.  I’ve spent a lot of time inside it, moving around, testing it, probing it.  But I still don’t know how I’m going to use it for what we really need it for.  I have an idea, though.”

“Yeah?” Grey Wolf asks.  “Why do I think we’re not going to like it?”

“Oh, it shouldn’t be that dangerous,” Aravis assures the others.  “I intend to seek out previous Keepers of the Maze and ask their advice.”

“You can _do_ that?” Ernie asks, wide-eyed.

“It should be possible,” Aravis nods.  “I’ll craft myself an _amulet of intellect_ over the next week or so, since I think I’ll be helped by a, um, deeper understanding, if you will, of certain aspects of the Maze interior.  Then I'll go in.”

No one says anything for a moment.

“I noted that Ell said “P” wasn’t finished with us,” Grey Wolf says despondently.

The Company sleeps uneasily that night.

…to be continued…


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## RangerWickett

Sagiro, I know Piratecat is fairly cool with readers commenting and giving suggestions, but would you prefer for us to just keep our yaps shut, or can we point out some things the company might have overlooked?  

By the way, just wondering if you saw the Ell article in Asgard.


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## Sagiro

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> *Sagiro, I know Piratecat is fairly cool with readers commenting and giving suggestions, but would you prefer for us to just keep our yaps shut, or can we point out some things the company might have overlooked?
> 
> By the way, just wondering if you saw the Ell article in Asgard. *




I guess I'm with Piratecat, in that I'd prefer this thread be a "spoiler-free" environment.   Idle speculation is typically ok though -- if you (or any reader) aren't sure about the appropriateness of a post, you can e-mail me at velendo@hotmail.com and I'll let you know if I mind.  

And RangerWickett, I've looked over some of your Ellish material in the latest Asgard (though not comprehensively, yet) -- cool stuff!   I particularly liked the bit about the monster dreaming it was hunting...

-Sagiro


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## Piratecat

Ahem. Yes! But we all know that Sagiro is a very busy man, so why don't you send all those suggestions and spoilers directly to me at my email address below. I'll be sure to... err... pass on to Sagiro any ideas that are appropriate.  Yes, that's it; appropriate.  

Sagiro, you'll give me access to your notes to make my task easier, yes?


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## Sparrowhawk

Well, that's a relief.  The Greenhouse is still safe.  I guess you're not as much of a RBDM as a certain one-eyed feline who attacked his party in their safe haven.    Of course, now the Company knows that the enemy's out to get them.  I suppose that they're afraid to go out now, lest they be assasinated?  If they are, I'd say this latest attack served its purpose.

I wonder if P is willing to keep sending simulacra on search-and-destroy missions like this.  If he keeps this up (and the party survives) the XP cost will get to him eventually.  Of course, when you're a high-level wizard, you've got XP to burn.  Especially if you're an NPC and don't have to follow all the rules exactly.

I feel kinda wierd being the only person posting to this thread.  I'd post to Piratecat's story hour, but that thread gets enough posts as is.  And I wouldn't have anything to say that others aren't saying already.  My post will bring this back to the top o' the forum; maybe then it'll bet more attention.  (I certainly hope so.)


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## RangerWickett

Hey, I post here too!  I really like this storyhour.  It shows what kind of cool character development you can have when you don't have my players.

Er, I mean, when you have players interested in long-term heroic adventure and high fantasy.


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## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 152 *_

*Friday, July 27*

Late the following morning there is a knock on the door.  A messenger in the Ducal colors is there with a sealed letter.

“I have an important missive for General Windstorm that she should read at once,” he tells Eddings (while squinting through the Farazil-check _continual flame_ that all visitors endure).  Kay comes forward to take the letter and politely dismisses the messenger.  She breaks the seal (signifying the royal army) and hands the letter to Ernie to read for her.

*General Windstorm – Your presence is required on the Balani Peninsula as soon as is possible.  Yaro Karenne, the leader of the Yrimpa, has withdrawn the support of his soldiers at an extremely inopportune time.  He demands to speak with you before recommitting his forces to the war effort.  The sailing ship Stalk Swift is departing from Tal Hae an hour after noon on the day of July 27.  It will take you directly to a landing point on the peninsula, where an armed escort will bring you to the main rear encampment.   – General Largent*

With hardly more than an hour before her ship leaves, Kay gathers her belongings, says her good-byes, and leaves for the docks.  

Twenty minutes later Eddings is summoned to the door yet again.  This time there is a teenage messenger-boy there, carrying something in a sack.  “Mister?  A woman named Kay gave me these to bring to you.  Her message was, she remembered her ring could hold stuff, and it turns out there was something already in them.  She said they’d be more useful to you than to her.  She also said you’d pay pretty well for bringing them back.”

Eddings passes the sack back to the others.  Step, wanting to take the risk in case it’s a trap, accepts the bag and looks carefully inside.  

“Hm.  It’s books.  Two gray books tied together with a cord.  There’s a Black Circle on the cover of the top one.  It…” 

He concentrates for a moment.

“It’s not radiating evil.  I think they’re…”

“Spell books!” Aravis and Grey Wolf shout, jumping forward.  Ernie comes to the door and hands the youth three gold pieces; the boy goggles for a moment before running off.  Grey Wolf and Aravis have a brief and unseemly tug-of-war with the tied-up books, before an exasperated Kibi comes over and (being much stronger than either of them) yanks them away.  Before the other two can stop him, he unties the cord and flips open the top book.

“Mmmmm.  Yup.  Spells in here.  Some good ones.”

He turns a few pages.

“’Energy Buffer.’  That looks interesting…”

The other wizards crowd around, and all three are basically useless for the rest of the day.

Morningstar has prepared a large number of _sending_ spells for the day, and spends the afternoon as the “switchboard of Ell.”  First she sends one on behalf of Grey Wolf, to his sister Jaina:  * Hi. I'm alive. Back at Greenhouse. How are you? – Greywolf*

The reply:  * HA! I knew it! I knew you weren't going to die! Told Ya! Told Ya!, Told Ya! You should have listened to me when I*

Morningstar smirks.  The next one she sends for Ernie, who wants to check in with their old city-guard friend Marbury Tillerson.  (Lt. Tillerson is currently stationed in Verdshane, and has been since the expulsion of Meledien some weeks earlier.)  * Hi! It's Ernie. How are you? I’m fine. Just checking in. We always have too much pie now. Reply 25 words or less.*

Marbury’s answer: *Ernest! Things are busy here. I've been cutting trees as well as guarding creepy magic buildings. Rumors of trouble but nothing has happened yet.*

Finally, Morningstar sends a _sending_ of her own, to her father in Kynder Hold:  * Dad - How are you? Am good. Working hard. Probably going out of sending range again soon.  Is mom well?  How are things at the temple? Morningstar.*

From father:  *Your Mother and I are both well, and things at the temple are normal. Stay safe wherever you go. Say "hi" to Dranko for us.*

So all is well.  Flicker and Ernie go out to buy some supplies both culinary and magical for the impending craft-fest while the others start reorganizing and refitting the large basement as an alchemy lab.

They are still out early that evening when a sharp scratching sound comes from _beneath_ the basement floor.  Morningstar casts _detect thoughts_ and finds it similar to the air elemental from the chimney.  Scree offers his opinion that it’s an earth elemental trying to dig its way into the house.

While Step draws his weapon and stands ready in case the elemental breaches the floor, Kibi casts _see invisibility_ and runs up the stairs.  Once on the main floor he runs from window to window looking out, hoping to catch a glimpse of Parthol’s _simulacrum._  He sees nothing, but a moment later there is a great FWOOM from around the side of the house.  All the Company knows that sound well – a _fireball_ has impacted the Greenhouse!  There is a scream from the street, and the sound of retreating footsteps as a passing commoner flees.

Morningstar breaks off her concentration on the elemental’s mind and casts another _sending_ to Ernie, warning him and Flicker that the house is under attack again.   She follows with her fifth and final _sending_ of the day:  * To Duke Nigel:  Greenhouse under serious magical attack. Runecarver.  Stronger than Sharshun. DONT HELP. But you should know. Will check in when over.*

The reply:  *Understood. Let me know if I can render assistance, send troops, or request court wizard provide aid.*

As she finishes, an upstairs window starts to rattle violently and doesn’t stop for several minutes.  Everyone is looking out of windows on all sides of the house, but again the assailant is not in evidence.  Then Dranko spots Ernie and Flicker running around the corner and down the street toward the house.

“Those idiots!” he groans.  “They should be hiding somewhere, not coming back here!”

The halflings reach the front door of the Greenhouse.  Ernie takes out his key, but as he moves it toward the keyhole his hand strikes something invisible.  While he manages to hold onto the key, they cannot get into the house – there is a _wall of force_ entirely blocking the door!  They run around to the back door but egress is similarly dissuaded.   Realizing that they’re sitting ducks, Flicker and Ernie run off again to the safest other place they can think of in the Tal Hae:  the Temple of Yondalla.   They are not attacked en route.

Hours pass without incident.   In the interim, Kibi indulges his curiosity and casts _detect magic_ to observe the wards on the Greenhouse.  He discovers that the Enchantment and Abjuration magics are actually _stronger_ at the spot on the floor where the earth elemental had tried to break in.   Interesting.   The wizards then debate whether the _walls of force_ (since expired) were part of the Greenhouse’s defense system, or placed there by the _simulacrum_.  Aravis performs an experiment to see if one can _dimension door_ *out* of the Greenhouse, and in fact this works.

Eventually the halflings come back and the Company eats a sullen dinner, frustration showing on every face.  “This is intolerable,” Grey Wolf grumbles.  “Eventually it’s going to decide it can’t get in, and start picking us off when we leave.”

Aravis jabs a fork into his mutton.  “Tomorrow I’m going to be loaded for combat,” he says.   The other spell-casters nod their heads.  One way or another, the situation is going to change.

…to be continued…


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## coyote6

Y'all are much more patient than my group. They'd have been out the door looking for a fight way earlier.

What was the deal with Kay being called away? Missing player?


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## Quartermoon

How wonderfully creepy!!  I love all this "monster banging at the door...will it get in?" tension.  You are so cool, Sagiro.


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## madriel

I love the Siege of the Greenhouse, too


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## Nail

madriel said:
			
		

> *I love the Siege of the Greenhouse, too *




Agreed.  And I also love the PCs "not-yer-typical-PC" behavior.  NOT dashing out into the street.  THINKING about the potential outcomes of direct combat with P.  Where, oh great Sagiro, did you find PCs that can think?


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## Sagiro

Quick answer to coyote6's question:  yes, Kay's player has moved two hours' drive away, _and_ just had a beautiful baby daughter.  As such, her attendance will be sporadic at best for a while.

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 153 *_

*Saturday, July 28*

Ernie wakes early and starts cooking.  By the time the others wake, a savory breakfast awaits them, spread nicely on the table by Eddings.  Conversation is clipped and businesslike, devoid of its typical irreverent humor.  By mid-morning the dishes have been cleaned and the Company is sitting nervously in the living room, half-heartedly discussing what laboratory equipment they’ll still need for their impending projects.   Skorg, having slept late, comes groggily down the steps, heads for the Icebox, and does a doubletake.  He stares for a moment at the Company, sitting quietly around the living room table – fully armed, fully armored, festooned with wands and scroll cases and brimming quivers. 

Skorg grunts and motions toward the Icebox.  “Do you mind?” he asks of no one in particular.   Eddings nods his head.

“Thanks!” Skorg says.  “Black-lizard pie.  A fresh one.”

As he reaches for the Icebox door, everyone jumps up at the sound of an explosion – from outside on the street!  The Company rushes to the front windows and beholds the horrible sight of a smoking body in the middle of the road.  It’s a woman dressed as a commoner who has barely survived a _fireball_, lying prone and moving her arm feebly. Ernie says some uncharacteristically bad words.  Flicker states the obvious.

“He’s trying to draw us out.”

“He could be waiting right outside the door,” says Kibi.

“Flicker!” Dranko barks.  “I’m going to heal her from here.  When I’ve been casting for about four seconds, I want you to open the window.  As soon as I’m done, close it again.  Understand?”

“Got it.”

Dranko calls upon his limited Delioch-granted ability to cast healing spells at range, and casts a curative spell out the window at the woman.  To his dismay, he feels the healing energies dissipate uselessly.  The woman looks no better, though she still stirs.  

“It didn’t work,” he frowns.  “Maybe something blocked the spell.  Or… she could be an illusion.”

“If it’s an illusion,” says Aravis, “it means he’s out there, somewhere, concentrating on it.  Let’s go.”

Kibi casts _improved invisibility_ on Dranko, which starts a brief flurry of buffing spells.  Grey Wolf casts _see invisibility_ and peers out the window, scanning the street and the air above.  Aravis then grabs Dranko and _dimension doors_ the two of them to a rooftop across the street.   Both start looking around, but see no sign of the _simulacrum_.  Kibi casts a second _improved invisibility_, this time on Morningstar, who uses a _word of recall_ set to the street outside to leave the Greenhouse without opening the door.   Finally Kibi casts _see invisibility_ on himself before _dimension dooring_ himself, Ernie and Grey Wolf out into the street.   Flicker and Once Certain Step stay inside to safeguard the Greenhouse, while Edghar, Scree and Pewter all scan the streets from various windows.

Kibi, Ernie and Grey Wolf are greeted rudely by an empowered _lightning bolt_ from somewhere above.  When the smoke clears the three of them are suffering from horrific burns, and no one can find any sign of the attacking wizard.   Ernie immediately heals Kibi, who took the worst of the blast, before curing his own wounds.  Grey Wolf and Kibi, realizing that they should have done it earlier, make themselves _invisible_.   Aravis casts _fly_ on Dranko, who starts flying around the skies above the Greenhouse, straining his eyes and ears to detect the _simulacrum_.  Aravis thinks he hears the sound of an invisible spellcaster, but so faintly that he can’t even discern the direction.   Grey Wolf runs around to the back of the Greenhouse, communicating with Edghar and instructing his monkey familiar to lead Step to the back window.  Once there, Grey Wolf gets healed by Step, reaching out the window to _lay on hands_.  Step also gives him his _wand of cure serious wounds_ to take to a cleric (after some fumbling, since Grey Wolf is still _invisible)_.

All of the Company are looking around everywhere, frantically.  Somewhere Dranko thinks he hears another spell being cast, but like Aravis he cannot pinpoint the location.  Seconds later Morningstar, despite being _invisible_, is struck blind by a spell from P’s servant.  

“I guess if he was going to blind someone,” Morningstar thinks, “I’m glad he picked me.  But still…”

Realizing that extraordinary measures might be needed to spot their attacker, Aravis sits down on his rooftop and enters the Crosser’s Maze.  His mind slides back into its vast depths and he begins to focus inward and downward toward the Greenhouse.  The others continue to spread and search, but it seems hopeless.  The next sign of the _simulacrum_ is when a growling Fiendish dire bear appears a block to the west, roars, and charges.   Before it can reach the Company (Morningstar most specifically), Kibi casts _wall of force_, effectively containing it within a transparent enclosure with 10’ high walls.  The bear scrabbles at the hidden barrier and roars in frustration.

Ernie, realizing that a) even with their own spells they cannot see their enemy, and that b) their enemy can see the invisible members of the Company just fine, rummages in the _bag of holding_ and withdraws the _divination sink_ gem.  Assuming it’s working as before, all divination spells for hundreds of feet should now be defunct.   That leaves Ernie and Aravis as the only visible targets, and so it’s they who are caught in a ferocious empowered _ice storm_.  Huge chunks of ice pummel them both, and Aravis’s consciousness is forced violently out of the Maze by the pounding to his body.  Oof!  Morningstar, realizing that (blind-fighting notwithstanding) she needs to see what was going on, casts _heal_ on herself, and her vision is instantly restored.  

Grey Wolf sees that the Fiendish dire bear is trying to climb the _wall of force_, and _summons_ a celestial badger above the bear to distract it.  But the bear makes short and gruesome work of the small creature and continues to work toward its escape.  Unable to get purchase on the frictionless force wall, it takes a small running start and leaps.  Whoomf!  It fails spectacularly, getting only the front half of its body over, and catching the very middle of its fiery abdomen on the top of the wall.  It ends up balanced there, comically, all four paws scrabbling but unable to reach the ground.   It roars again, in rage, embarrassment or both.  Kibi takes the opportunity to fire _magic missiles_ at the bear, but they are reflected harmlessly away by the target’s spell resistance.

Dranko, realizing that Ernie and Aravis are still easy prey for the _simulacrum_, casts _obscuring mist_ above them, shielding them from sight.   And then Kibi has a splendid idea.  He _summons_ a Fiendish dire bat, up in the air and as far away from the bear as possible.  A bat should be able to spot something invisible just fine!  Alas, the bat appears, and immediately swoops back down toward the dire bear, that being the closest enemy it can discern.   Morningstar, eyes back to normal, sees this and figures out what to do next.  She _summons_ another pair of dire bats, and as they go to harass the bear, she follows it up with a _Rary’s Telepathic Bond_.  Over the mind link she instructs them to ignore the bear and look for the flying wizard.  Oh, and tell that third bat to leave the bear alone and join you.

The bats fly around for a few seconds, and suddenly take off in a deliberate upward climb.  A ha!  Dranko immediately starts to fly after them.  Aravis casts _levitate_ on himself and starts to rise through the mist, while Grey Wolf casts _fly_ on Ernie and Morningstar casts _air walk_.  Ernie and Morningstar fly over to join the ascending Aravis while the bats continue to chase their invisible prey.  

_Magic missiles_ appear from nowhere and slam into the foremost bat.  In a red flash it vanishes, but the other two continue undaunted.   At Morningstar’s telepathic command the bats are relaying how far away they are (measured in bat-wing lengths) from their enemy.  She relays this to Ernie, who casts _invisibility purge_ on himself before reaching out to hold on to her and Aravis.

“Eight wingspans, and a bit to the left… now higher up by three spans… he’s banking left… okay, now he’s 10 spans, directly ahead of them…”

Ernie activates his _ring of dimension door_, taking himself, Morningstar and Aravis up into the sky, as close as he can get to where the bats are telling Morningstar their target is.   They reappear high above the wooden city of Tal Hae…and there is Parthol’s double, revealed by the nearby _invisibility purge!_.  

To his great delight, Dranko sees that he himself is not with range of Ernie’s spell.  Invisible, he fires off a _searing light_ as a sneak attack from range.  The ray of white hot light goes right through the ice-and-snow body of the _simulacrum_, dissolving away the fake flesh where it hits.  Morningstar follows it up by lobbing a massively damaging _chill seed_, which tears away chunks of the enemy wizard’s body.  Somehow, Parthol’s servant is still alive, still flying, threatening to escape… until Kibi’s dire bat finally swoops in and plunges its fangs into the _simulacrum’s_ head.   In a white flash the adversary’s body melts away, sending droplets of harmlessly enchanted rain down to the rooftops below.  The flying, levitating, and air-walking members of the Company can hardly believe the success of their coordinated attack, and are soon all grinning ear to ear.

It is amusing to think that, just perhaps, the droplets land upon the helpless dire bear, a final annoyance before it returns to its infernal home.

…to be continued…


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## Samnell

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Flicker and Once Certain Step stay inside to safeguard the Greenhouse, while Edghar, Scree and Pewter all scan the streets from various windows.
> [/B]




Has Step been having some self-confidence problems lately?


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## madriel

I was wondering how long it'd be before the simulacrums lured the Company out.  Cool battle.


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## wolff96

Okay, it's a niggling little detail, but...

Was the old lady scorched by the fireball real or an illusion? I'm guessing illusion, but you never clarified.


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## coyote6

That's a cool fight. Were the players getting frustrated by the simulacrum's ability to see them while they couldn't see it?


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## Sagiro

To answer those last two questions:

1. The party discovered that the _fireballed_ woman was an illusion.

2. Yeah, the players and characters both were tearing their hair out during that fight.  Their enemy was _hasted_, _improvedly invisible_, and was protected by _non-detection_ against PC divinations.  He was casting spells, then flying hundreds of feet away for a round or two to assess things, then flying back to cast again. Repeat, repeat.  Until the end of the fight, I honestly wasn't sure what the party was going to do about it.  They had talked about giving up and retreating back to the Greenhouse.  Dire bats had never occured to me.

Their plan at the end was (I thought) staggeringly cool, and a real group effort.  Tracking the _simulacrum_ via _Rary's Telepathic Bond_ connected to dire bats, and then _dimension dooring_ a flying halfling with _invisibility purge_ close enough to allow other nearby flyers a devastating round of attacks... whoa.

I love my players.  

-Sagiro


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## Nail

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *The party discovered that the fireballed woman was an illusion.*




The alignment of "P" is interesting.........

Sagiro, how did you rule on the PCs locating "s-P" by hearing?  He was spell casting.......


----------



## Milo Windby

That was a _very_ cool fight.  I especially liked the bat tactic.  I imagine that may be used again in the future.  So how many simulacrums will the Company have to wade through before the real 'P' is revealed?  And, do they even want to find the real 'P' since Ell told Morningstar that he isn't a priority?  Seems like he's doing a really good job of making himself one.

Sagiro, I game in a few groups, one that is pretty massive as far as amount of PCs.  It seems like you've got a lot of players as well.  How long does a fight like this generally last?  Many of our players aren't experienced, so there's a lot of looking spells, feats, and skills up during a battle.  One round of our fights has taken up to 30 minutes at one point.


----------



## Sagiro

Nail said:
			
		

> *
> 
> The alignment of "P" is interesting.........
> 
> Sagiro, how did you rule on the PCs locating "s-P" by hearing?  He was spell casting....... *



Regarding "s-P's" alignment:  maybe he used an illusion to spare a real person.  Or maybe it was the best way to get an injured-but-not-killed commoner exactly where he wanted it.  I don't think anyone in the party has ever taken the time to cast _detect evil_ on an "s-P."    

As for hearing him, I had any nearby PC's make listen checks whenever the Sim cast a spell, but none of them made a check by enough to really pinpoint his location.  (The Sim would always cast from the maximum possible distance to make this as difficult as possible.)  To make matters worse, he was _hasted_, and so would cast with his partial action and then do a double move to fly 180 feet away in some random direction afterward.   So even when Dranko got a general sense of direction and distance, the Sim would be long gone from his casting location just a few seconds later.

-Sagiro


----------



## Fade

The _real_ question is, why is he only sending one at a time?

Or does this come under Rule 1?


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> Regarding "s-P's" alignment:  maybe he used an illusion to spare a real person.  Or maybe it was the best way to get an injured-but-not-killed commoner exactly where he wanted it.  I don't think anyone in the party has ever taken the time to cast detect evil on an "s-P."
> -Sagiro *




On the other hand he summoned a "Fiendish" Dire Bear


----------



## Piratecat

Fade said:
			
		

> *The real question is, why is he only sending one at a time?
> 
> Or does this come under Rule 1? *




You *SUCK!* 

Bad Fade.  No Rule 1 Violation.

Incidentally, our latest bit of good news is Duke Nigel's opinion that P may be a li-li-li-lich.  Yikes.


----------



## Nail

MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> *On the other hand he summoned a "Fiendish" Dire Bear *




Nice thought, but:


> *....And then Kibi has a splendid idea. He summons a Fiendish dire bat, up in the air and as far away from the bear as possible........*




Perhaps Kibi is evil too?........Is Kibi, in fact, an evil mole?......The gravity of the situation amazes me.......


----------



## Sagiro

Well, on the lists of summonable creatures, the only dire bats are of the Fiendish variety.  They weren't happy, but were compelled to serve.

I'll probably institute a house rule that for any creature on the _summon monster_ lists with the Fiendish or Celestial template, the template listed can be swapped for the other. 

There's nothing inherently evil about bats, after all.  Heck, eating all those annoying bugs is a _good_ thing! 

-Sagiro


----------



## Nail

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *I'll probably institute a house rule that for any creature on the summon monster lists with the Fiendish or Celestial template, the template listed can be swapped for the other. *




I'm sure some DMs already allow this.  It's a good idea_(tm)_.

On a tangent:
      Arcane spell casters can summon whatever aligned beings they choose.  We've seen good casters summon evil things......do evil casters ever summon good things?  Moral ramifications of the good creatures doing evil acts?  Perhaps evil arcane casters do this "just for fun"?  Perhaps the much vaunted BoVD suggests this?  Or is that not Vile_(tm)_ enough?


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Well, on the lists of summonable creatures, the only dire bats are of the Fiendish variety.  They weren't happy, but were compelled to serve.
> 
> I'll probably institute a house rule that for any creature on the summon monster lists with the Fiendish or Celestial template, the template listed can be swapped for the other.
> 
> There's nothing inherently evil about bats, after all.  Heck, eating all those annoying bugs is a good thing!
> 
> -Sagiro *




That's ok, the only Dire Bears on the lists of summonable creatures are of the Celestial variety


----------



## Sagiro

Milo Windby said:
			
		

> *That was a very cool fight.  I especially liked the bat tactic.  I imagine that may be used again in the future.  So how many simulacrums will the Company have to wade through before the real 'P' is revealed?  And, do they even want to find the real 'P' since Ell told Morningstar that he isn't a priority?  Seems like he's doing a really good job of making himself one.
> *



One would presume that Parthol Runecarver doesn't have an _infinite_ supply of XP to blow on duplicates of himself.  It's also not a certainty that he hasn't made other _simulacra_ with agendas outside the Company's knowledge.  That said, there's no guarantee that there won't be more such foes in the Company's future...  

To be specific about Morningstar's _commune_, she learned nothing about the _priority_ of attacking P.  She learned that, if they were to attack him _ right now_, they would no have chance of _defeating_ him.  There's a difference.  [evil grin]



> *
> Sagiro, I game in a few groups, one that is pretty massive as far as amount of PCs.  It seems like you've got a lot of players as well.  How long does a fight like this generally last?  Many of our players aren't experienced, so there's a lot of looking spells, feats, and skills up during a battle.  One round of our fights has taken up to 30 minutes at one point. *



A typical run in my game has six players, though I occasionally go as high as seven or eight, or as low as five.  Typical non-epic battles, like the one against the Simulacrum, are in the 1-3 hour range.  On rare occasions I'll have a gigantic combat that lasts for most of a long Sunday session, and right now (Teaser Alert!) the Company is in the midst of a battle that's already taken up an entire run, and isn't finished yet.   (The story hour still lags three sessions behind where we are in real life.)

My players range from "rules literate" to "rules expert," and I manage (I think... er, I hope...) to prevent combats from dragging.  Having Piratecat and KidCthulhu as players is like having extra DM's around for rules purposes, and even my less pointy-headed players have come to know their own characters' mechanics pretty well.  Also, I'm willing to move on to the next combatant while the previous one is still working out details, if I'm sure the former won't have an effect on the latter.  And while I'm no Dr. Rictus-style walking rulebook, I have a pretty good grasp on the core stuff.   Oh, and I'm also happy to make snap judgements, even if they're wrong, and look them up later.  When it's important I'll stop combat while someone looks something up, but those delays never last more than about 45 seconds.

There is a pretty clear correlation between number of PC's and length of combat, though.  Not just because more characters take actions each round, but because out-of-game table-talk increases, dinner takes longer to order and eat, each individual is more likely to get distracted, and the general chaos level is higher.

-Sagiro


----------



## Piratecat

"Pointy-headed"?  *sniff*


----------



## Sagiro

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *"Pointy-headed"?  *sniff* *



It was a _compliment._  Sheesh. 

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 154 *_

*Interlude on the Peninsula, part I*

Kay’s longboat detaches from the _Stalk Swift_ and rows discreetly toward the rocky western shore of the Balani Peninsula.   For a few moments Kay wonders if the boat has been launched in the right place – there is no inlet, no clear landing point, nothing but rocks and coral.  But the rowers know their craft, and maneuver into a tiny hidden bay with an entrance just wide enough for the smallish longboat to slip through.  

A dozen armed men are standing back from the shore, waiting for her.  Fifteen horses are tethered to some scrubby trees nearby.  A tall man in officer’s dress strides forth to greet her, snapping off a crisp bow before speaking.

“General Windstorm, I am Corporal Stather. We are here to escort you to the main rear encampment.  The journey should take a day and a half overland.   General Largent expresses his gratitude that you’ve come to see him on such short notice.”

Kay looks around at the low rocky hills, concerned.  “Thank you, corporal.  But isn’t this dangerous?  Such a small group, so near to the battlefield?  We could easily be ambushed.”

Stathis smiles, but without condescension.   “We are far from the front lines, General.  No Delfirians have been sighted anywhere near this put-in or our route to the camp.   And we have many hidden scouts who will be providing additional protection as we travel.  We’ll be safe, I assure you.”

His assurances prove well founded.  Kay and her entourage are unmolested through the day’s travel, winding through dry rocky valleys between brown shrub-speckled hills.  They camp for the night by a small stream trickling down from a small peak.

The next morning they break camp, expecting to reach Largent later in the afternoon.  But they have only been travelling for an hour when an ethereal blue form comes flying in from over a near ridge.  The men-at-arms ready their spears and surround the General as a precaution, but Oa Lyanna starts excitedly to ruffle the wind in Kay’s hair.

“It’s a Yrimpa!” she whispers.  “My people are near!”

The Yrimpa lands a respectful distance from the armed men, and flies slowly along the ground toward Kay.  Like all Yrimpa, his upper body is that of a translucent blue human or half-elf, details discernable in a wispy sort of way.  From the waist down he is a swirl of blue vapors.

“Kay Windstorm!” he calls.  “I am Tua Pawayya, servitor to our chief, Yaro Karenne.  May I approach?”

“Of course,” says Kay, motioning him forward.

“I have a brief message,” says Tua.  “Yaro Karenne requests that you speak with him immediately – this afternoon.   The Yrimpa have built an air-city that is only a few miles distant – a brief flight.”

“I am on my way to speak with General Largent,” says Kay.  “Can this wait?”

Tua Pawayya pitches his voice in a whisper that only Kay can hear.  “Bonded One, I believe that Yaro knows why you are here.  He would prefer that he see you at once, before you talk with your human leader.  But that is a decision for the Bonded One.   You should do as you see fit, of course.”

Kay thinks for a moment while Tua maintains a respectful silence.  “Could you excuse me for a moment?” Kay says at last.  “I want to talk with Stathis.”

“Of course, Bonded One.”

Kay steps her horse over to where Stathis has (discreetly) removed himself.  “Corporal, I have been summoned to speak with the Yrimpa, on an urgent matter.  Can General Largent wait an extra few hours?”

“I can’t really say, General,” says Stathis, frowning.  “I know that he wanted to see you at your earliest possible convenience.   But…”

He looks nervously at Tua, hovering nearby.

“…if you have personal business, I’m sure he can brook a short delay.”

“Very good.  I will be flying to the Yrimpa camp, but I can’t fly for long enough to get all the way back.  I’ll be walking on my own, so I’ll need directions.”

“I’d prefer that you retain an escort…” Stathis begins, but Kay cuts him off.

“I trust your assessment, that I’ll be perfectly safe, Corporal.  Don’t worry about me.  I’m very good on my own in the wilderness, and I have Oa Lyanna to help protect me.  Just tell me where I go to reach the camp.”

Stathis sighs.  “Yes, General.  See that hill a bit off to the left, with the double peak?  The camp is just beyond and to the right of that hill.  The path we’re taking actually winds to the left for several miles, through that shadowed valley, before bending sharply to the right.”

“Tell General Largent I still intend to speak to him before he goes to sleep tonight.  If not, I’ll see him first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, General.”

Kay dismounts from her horse and walks back to Tua Pawayya. 

“I’ll come with you now,” she says, and together with Oa Lyanna she casts _fly_.  Tua streaks up into the sky.  Kay follows.

An hour later they come within sight of the Yrimpa’s air-city.  In a vague way it resembles a human city, with some structures that could be buildings, avenues, towers, walls; but all is made of thick white clouds, piled on top of one another and somehow sculpted into shapes and forms.  Around these clouds streak the Yrimpa themselves, dozens of them, at home in the vapors.  Oa Lyanna stirs happily.  “It’s beautiful,” she whispers.  Kay nods her agreement.

Minutes later she is escorted into a especially large and detailed cloud edifice, through what might be considered hallways, and into the presence of Yaro Karenne.  The leader of the Yrimpa floats toward her, his arms extended in greeting.

“Welcome, Bonded One.  I am pleased that you have accepted my invitation.  And welcome also to your young companion, Oa Lyanna.”

“It’s our pleasure,” says Kay, hovering.  “But I can’t stay for long.  My ability to fly only lasts another hour.  And I promised General Largent that I would not delay any longer than is necessary.”

“Ah, General Largent,” says Yaro.  “It is on that subject that I wanted to speak.  Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, quite.  Thank you.”

“Good.  I’ll get right to the point then.  I know that you have been brought here because of my decision to withdraw Yrimpa support from the war against the Delfiri.  Yes?”

“Yes.  Exactly.  What has happened?”

“It hasn’t been anything specific,” says Yaro.  “But I feel that the interests of my people are not being reasonably served, even considering the war.  I’m sure you realize that the Yrimpa are elite fighting units in a campaign like this one.  We are stronger, and incredibly more quick and maneuverable, than a typical Charagan foot soldier or horseman.  Largent has used us as such, and that makes sense.  But in recent months he has grown more and more… reliant on us, for dangerous missions.  We do not fear danger of course, but we have now lost over twenty of our number since we volunteered to serve.  Twenty-four, to be precise, bringing our number down from 206 to 182.   Given our small population, and our slow rate of reproduction, I must always take into serious account the rate of attrition we suffer.  I have already reached an agreement, made a few weeks back, that no more than fifteen Yrimpa would ever be assigned to a specific military operation, in case of a specifically designed ambush or other catastrophic failure.”

“That seems sensible,” says Kay. 

“Yes.  Well.  General Largent was not happy with that compromise, but I made him see reason.  I fear that the humans here do not understand the value of a single Yrimpa life.  We are a unique race, a blend of magic and element that exists nowhere else on this Prime, or on the elemental planes.  A Yrimpa has much, much greater value than one of your prolific humanoid races.”

Kay shifts uncomfortably.  Yaro continues.   

“A few days ago General Largent approached me and asked to break our agreement.  He asked for 30 Yrimpa to commit to a single risky venture.  I refused, though I almost reduced him to begging.  I decided then that he had lost the right to command us.  Traditionally only a Bonded One may issue direct commands to the Yrimpa, and we have fought so far with your blessing, though you have been far away.  But without your guidance, our superiors have lost track of priorities.  I wish to win this war, and I have no love for the Delfiri, but I will not risk the extinction of my people for this venture.”

“Nor should you,” Kay agrees. 

“Bonded One, I wish for you to stay and command us.  No other here adequately understands the issues involved.”

“Yaro, I have my own mission, which is also very important to Charagan.  But I will go talk to Largent, and try to make him see reason.  I’m sure you can come to some sort of compromise that assures the safety of the Yrimpa.”

“Perhaps.”  Yaro Karenne’s expression is unreadable.

“I should go at once, then,” says Kay.  “With luck I can reach Largent tonight and discuss this with him.  I’ll return in the morning if we reach an agreement.”

Yaro stares at Kay for a moment before smiling wanly.

“I will await your return, then.   Good luck, wind speed.”

...to be continued...


----------



## Duncan Haldane

Good update, Sagiro.

Are you running something seperately with Kay's player now that she's moved?



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Twenty-four, to be precise, bringing our number down from 206 to 172.*




206 - 24 = 182 ;-)

Duncan


----------



## Milo Windby

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> To be specific about Morningstar's commune, she learned nothing about the priority of attacking P.  She learned that, if they were to attack him  right now, they would no have chance of defeating him.  There's a difference.  [evil grin]
> *



Ahah.  I see now.  Very RBDM of you Sagiro.



> *
> Also, I'm willing to move on to the next combatant while the previous one is still working out details, if I'm sure the former won't have an effect on the latter.  And while I'm no Dr. Rictus-style walking rulebook, I have a pretty good grasp on the core stuff.   Oh, and I'm also happy to make snap judgements, even if they're wrong, and look them up later.  *



Not a bad idea.  I may adopt that in the one game I'm running and suggest it to the others.  My game is thankfully only 5 players, so it's not too bad.



> *
> When it's important I'll stop combat while someone looks something up, but those delays never last more than about 45 seconds.*







> *
> There is a pretty clear correlation between number of PC's and length of combat, though.  Not just because more characters take actions each round, but because out-of-game table-talk increases, dinner takes longer to order and eat, each individual is more likely to get distracted, and the general chaos level is higher.
> *



So very true.  Some days the game doesn't get started until one to two hours after everyone has arrived.  I've also been thinking of adopting PC's "Pay the Pig" policy to keep things moving.  I wouldn't want to limit it too much though.  Game night is the only night some of us see each other so it's a good time to catch up with current events and such.


----------



## Sagiro

To answer a previous question: all of Kay's journey to the Balani Peninsula took place over the table, as Kay's player was in town and able to play.  (And her husband, who often comes with her, does an admirable job playing One Certain Step.)  These scenes were actually interlaced with other characters' actions at the session, but for narrative purposes I'm presenting it at all once.

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 155 *_

*Interlude on the Peninsula, part II*

Kay and Oa Lyanna travel from the air-city for another hour before their _fly_ spell runs out and they float gently to the ground.  For the rest of the day Kay walks across the rugged terrain of the Balani Peninsula, easily following the tracks of her departed escort.  Night falls and the going becomes slower, but the moon is full in a clear sky, enough for Kay to continue on.  An hour past sunset she is challenged by a well-concealed watchman set specifically to meet her, and from there she is escorted into the camp.

Hundreds of tents have been erected, dotting the landscape along with wagons, watch platforms and fires.  There are over two thousand soldiers in the camp, and it smells like an army: gruel, sweat, urine, smoke, horses.   Kay is led silently through the masses of soldiery, many of whom have set their bedrolls out beneath the moon on this warm summer night.  She nods in passing to those still awake and on watch.  After five minutes she is brought before a large tent, though not much different in style or color than the others.  Two armed guards flank the tent flap.  They snap to attention as Kay approaches.  One speaks in a low voice to the guide who accompanies the General.

“Has she been checked?”

“Yes.  She’s clean, and she is who she seems.”

Kay looks startled.  She has noticed nothing in the way of divination spells directed at her.

“Very good,” says the guard.  “General Largent is still up, and expecting a guest.”

He holds back the flap, and Kay goes in.

General Largent is a grizzled, middle-aged man, large in every sense of the word.  He stands well over six feet tall, with a barrel chest puffing out over a paunchy gut.  His nose and ears are over-sized on his large round head.  His voice is deep and resonant even when speaking quietly.

The only other person in the tent, aside from four silent guards, is a smaller, unassuming man without uniform.  Both men are leaning over a set of maps laid out on a low square table in the center of the tent.  They look up as Kay enters, then rise to greet her.

“General Windstorm, welcome.  I am General Largent, and this is Jonas, my chief strategist.  Please, sit down.  Can I interest you in some refreshment?”

Soon Kay is sitting comfortably in the General’s tent, drinking a cup of water and eating bread and sliced fruit.  Largent shifts his bulk around in a low chair and clears his throat.

“I understand you have already spoken with Yaro Karenne.”

“I have.”  

“Then you will have heard his grievances,” Largent continues.  “I would like to know how he presented them to you.”

“Yaro is concerned for the welfare of the Yrimpa,” Kay says.  “He worries that you are putting them in too much danger, considering how few they are in total.  And he said that you’ve asked him to break an agreement you’ve made concerning the number of Yrimpa to be committed in a single maneuver.”

“Did he talk about that… maneuver?”

“No.  He didn’t go into detail.”

“Ah.  Then allow me.  The Delfiri war operations are as a rule very well organized on a strategic level.   Their positions are strong, and they don’t overextend themselves.  They don’t throw away soldiers unnecessarily.   They may lack creativity at times, but they make very few mistakes.  When they do, it is imperative that we take full advantage.

“Just recently, they have made a mistake.  Here, look.”

He points to one of the large maps between them.

“Our scouts report that they are shifting their main focus from this region here, to the Seven Hills region, southwest.  At first glance their positions seem too well entrenched for us to accost them.  But they have left a gap, here, a gap with a blind-spot caused by these cliffs to the north.”

Largent gestures to various features on the map as he talks.

“We have a tremendous opportunity.   If we can dislodge the Delfiri from the Smokehill Valley, the terrain and numbers will suddenly favor us for a series of follow-up strikes.  From there we can gain control of several strategic hills and valleys in the area, giving us new launching points to harry their supply lines.  Jonas and our other strategists estimate that we could push the Delfiri back another fifteen miles, and hold that territory with enough strength to deter a counterattack.  It would be the most decisive victory for our side in months.

“But the window on this opportunity will only last another three days, four at the most.   And the Delfirians, as I said, are no fools.  They may realize the potential weakness at any time and correct it.  We must act _now_. 

“What part are the Yrimpa going to play in this?” asks Kay.

“In order to breach the near-side defenses, we must draw away a good part of their force for the initial assault.   I intend that the Yrimpa fly high above the Smokehill Valley and launch a surprise assault from the rear.   If that threat is credible, it will force the Delfiri to take it seriously.  We have set the minimum number of Yrimpa needed to make it work at thirty, to provide the offensive force that will convince them it’s not just a distraction.”

“You said it’s unlike the Delfiri to make this kind of mistake.  What if it’s a set-up?  We could be sending thirty Yrimpa into a trap.”

“We have discussed that possibility at length.   All signs, including good information from scouts, say it’s not.  And if it is, the Yrimpa are my soldiers most able to make an safe and easy retreat.  They can go straight up!   An ambush here would be more costly to my conventional troops.  But I, and they, are willing to risk it.  Which seems more than we can say for the Yrimpa at the moment.”

“If this operation goes as planned, what casualties _do_ you expect for the Yrimpa?”

“Less than a half-dozen,” says Largent.  Probably less than four.  Very likely zero or one.”

“You understand Yaro’s concern,” says Kay.  “Those Yrimpa represent all that there of his race in the whole world.”

“I am very aware of that,” says Largent.  He lets out a long breath.  “Look, I won’t lie to you.  The Yrimpa are extraordinary soldiers, and I am grateful for all they’ve done for us.  Without them, we would not have held the enemy back even as well as we have so far.  And… I have grown to rely on them for certain types of missions, I admit.  Perhaps more than I should have.  But I do not risk them unduly.  Did Yaro tell you that a group of six Deliochan clerics of significant skill accompany the Yrimpa (as well as they can on foot) on every mission, specifically to provide healing at a designated fallback position?”

“Er… no.”

“Furthermore, if this maneuver _is_ successful, we should not need to risk the Yrimpa at all for several weeks, giving them time to rest and heal at their leisure.”

“And what if this whole thing turns out to be a trap, set specifically for the Yrimpa?  What if they cannot escape, and all thirty are killed?  I know it’s unlikely, but do you realize what a blow that would be to them?”

“Of course I realize!  Do you think I have a desire to commit genocide on my own allies?  Yaro Karenne needs to be cautious, I realize, but I don’t think he gives me enough credit.  I know the situation.  General Windstorm, I am supremely confident that this is not a trap, and that the potential outweighs all reasonable risk.  And…”

He pauses, touching his fingertips to his lips.

“…and, if by some horrible miscalculation this _is_ a trap, and all of the Yrimpa are slain, then I would excuse the remaining 142 from the duration of the war.  If they wanted that.”

Kay glances down at the map, covered with markings, arrows, and small wooden disks.  She looks back at Largent, trying to read his expression.  There is no hint of desperation there, no trace of deception, or even nervousness.  If she had to guess, Largent was probably already thinking about alternate plans if she took Yaro’s side.

“You are welcome to spend the night considering what I’ve said,” Largent says.  “But I’ll need to know tomorrow morning.  If we wait much longer, the whole debate will become moot.”

“Thank you, General,” says Kay.  “I’ll make a decision in the morning.”

“We have a tent at your disposal, as well as a personal guard.  I’ll see you again at dawn.”

* * * *

The next morning sees Kay again standing in Largent’s tent.  

“Sir, I’ve made my choice.  I will fly to Yaro Karenne and try talking him into accepting the mission on the terms you gave last night.  I can’t make you any guarantees, though.”

“I cannot ask for more than that,” booms Largent.  “Good luck to you.”

* * * *

Kay and Oa Lyanna fly back to the air-city, and are soon in audience with Yaro Karenne.

“So, you’ve spoken with General Largent.  What is your opinion?”

“He seems like a reasonable man,” Kay says.  “It sounds like he really has given the matter a lot of thought.  We talked about the risks to the Yrimpa, and I don’t think he’s underestimating that risk.  Also, he has offered that if the mission goes as planned, he won’t use you in battle for several weeks afterward.  And… and if the worst happens, and all thirty are killed, he’d expect that you would remove yourself from the war altogether.”

“I see.”

“Do you think… I mean, could the Yrimpa survive if they suffer thirty more casualties?”

“I think so.  It’s not quite the same as it is with you humans and elves and such.  Our reproduction only requires individuals, not pairs, but is less frequent and less… predictable.   In theory a single one of us could replenish our race, but not with certainty.

“Nonetheless, if you command us to return to the war, and to take part in Largent’s mission, we will.  You are a Bonded One, and we will obey you.”

“Yaro, I don’t want to command you.  You are not slaves.  You don’t have to do what I tell you.”

“But you are a Bonded One.  The only one remaining.  It is part of our being that we do as you command.  I don’t blame you for not understanding fully.   We are not slaves.  We have all the free will we desire.  But it is our will that a Bonded One should lead us, command us.  Don’t you see?”

“I’m afraid not,” says Kay.  “How is part of your nature?  Where did the Yrimpa come from?”

“Many of the details are lost to us,” says Yaro, “but this much we know.  We Yrimpa are not natural.  There are no Yrimpa native to the world, not to the Primes, and not to the Elemental Plane of Air.  We were a creation, long ago, of a mortal being, a wizard of great power.  He crafted us from the primal elemental stuff, imbued us with life, intelligence, and the ability to perpetuate ourselves.  That we were created makes us no less real, no less alive.  All races were created by some high power, after all.”

“And what about people like me?  Bonded Ones?  What does it mean to be a Bonded One?”

“I don’t know,” admits Yaro.  “I have never been Bonded to a mortal.  But that was also part of our creation.  One of the rules of our being, you might say, just as you must eat food and breath air.  We must have ties to the elvish people.”

“Then what happens if I die?  If I’m the last Bonded One, and I die, what would happen to the Yrimpa?  Would you all immediately perish?”

“I doubt it, but who knows?”  Yaro spreads his arms wide.  “Perhaps a new Bonded One would come into being.  We would not have you live as a recluse because of those possibilities.  You must live as you must.”

“Yaro Karenne, I’m still not going to order you to follow Largent’s orders.  But as the Bonded One, I’m going to _ask_ that you do.  Largent is a good man, and like I said, he understands the issues.”

“If you say it is so, then I believe you,” says Yaro.

There is a pause, and then Kay speaks again.

“I would like to accompany you on the mission."

Yaro smiles at her.  “It is a offer both bold and kind, but I do not think it wise.   Even when you are flying, the Yrimpa are both faster and more agile in the air.  You mean well, I know, but I think you would only impede us.  Also, should your own life be in specific danger, we would be in the position of possibly having to compromise the mission for the sake of the Bonded One.”

“I understand,” says Kay, disappointed.

“But we for our part are still citizens of Charagan,” Yaro says.  “We will continue fighting for our kingdom.  You ask us to return, and a request from the Bonded One is as good as a command to us.  Your confidence is enough.  We will return.”

And please, Kay thinks, let Largent know what he’s doing.

…to be continued…


----------



## Fade

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *There is a pause, and then Kay speaks again.
> 
> “I would like to accompany you on the mission."
> *




As I was reading the story, this is exactly what I was thinking. Cool.

Are Yrimpa stats available anywhere?


----------



## drnuncheon

Nail said:
			
		

> *On a tangent:
> Arcane spell casters can summon whatever aligned beings they choose.  We've seen good casters summon evil things......do evil casters ever summon good things?  Moral ramifications of the good creatures doing evil acts?  Perhaps evil arcane casters do this "just for fun"?  Perhaps the much vaunted BoVD suggests this?  Or is that not Vile(tm) enough? *




I played a NE halfling conjurer who did just this.  For some reason it gave people even less reason to suspect he was evil. (Most people merely assumed he was grouchy.)  He did it because it amused him to force good creatures to fight for him.

If I were an evil caster, though, I would be very wary about summoning powerful, intelligent good creatures to fight for me.  They may be forced to attack my enemies but that doesn't guarantee that they won't show back up later to whup my butt for my insolence.

J


----------



## Fade

Same goes for evil creatures.


----------



## coyote6

That's why you only summon the dumb ones, so they can't find you and don't think to tell anyone smarter. Skip the archons & osyluths -- too damned sneaky, never mind all that teleporting they can do.

But that's trivial. The important thing is -- will we get to find out how the raid went? Were the yrimpa slaughtered? Was there a double-cross brewing?


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 156 *_

“Hey Eddings, you’re sure Skorg had nothing to do with this meal, right?”

“Yes, Master Proudfoot.   Our guest has been out all morning.  This is bread from the Icebox, accompanied by expensive cheeses I purchased yesterday from the market.  I’m sure it’s not up to Ernest’s standards, but I trust it will be to your satisfaction.”

Flicker picks up a large platter of food from a butcher block.  

“It’s just that the smell down there is already pretty bad, and I don’t want to make it worse!”

He carries the tray down to the basement.  As he reaches the bottom step his nose crinkles up reflexively.  He averts his head quickly to avoid coughing on the food.

“I’ll just leave this bread and cheese on the bottom step if anyone wants some,” he says.  “I wouldn’t worry about the cats getting it.  They have enough sense not to come down here.”

Flicker bounds back up the steps.

The basement of the Greenhouse has been transformed into a large laboratory, replete with bubbling flasks, palettes of various powders, alembics, mortar-and-pestles, retorts, funnels, fermentation chambers, and dozens of additional pieces of alchemical apparatus.   Ernie stands over a large basin, carefully measuring herbs and chemicals into a progression of glass vials.  Dranko’s workbench has some coarser tools – chisels, a hammer, an engraving knife – in addition to iron pots of glowing inks and dyes.   Morningstar is alternately turning a long black wand over a small fire, and painting it with a fine brush.  And Aravis, whose workplace reeks of something sulfurous, tinkers with some gold wire that will be looped through his _Headband of Intellect_.  

“I still plan on going into the Maze once this is done,” he says.  “Somewhere are the previous Keepers of the Maze who have had experience using it.  Well, in theory they’re in there.  I’m pretty sure.  Anyway, it’ll be fine.”

“Tell us that again when you really are smarter.”  Kibi points to the _Headband_.

“He’ll be smarter, not wiser,” Ernie observes.

Kibi and Grey Wolf are still setting up their own work spaces in different corners of the basement; they have spent the past several days cloistered in their rooms scribing spells into their spellbooks.  (Kibi is particularly excited about adding _teleport_, and is eager to try it out , but he also wants to get everything prepared properly for making _sashes of transparency_ for Grey Wolf and Dranko).  

“Oh… drat!”

Ernie is sitting at his small table, a flask in either hand, having just been dripping the contents of one carefully into the other.  Said other is now foaming over with a stinking black froth and spilling onto his hand.

“Oh dear, oh dear!  And quickling sweat is so expensive…”

He chucks the flask to shatter against the side of the basin.  There is a small flash, a puff of gray smoke, and then a pleasing smell of fresh fruit that lasts for almost a minute.

“Everything’s under control.”

He grins nervously at the others, all of whom have paused in their own projects to stare. 

* * *

Another day passes, and things are for the most part going smoothly, but Ernie and Grey Wolf are both feeling ill, and some of the others are noticing a disturbing shortness of breath.  Ernie comments to Kibi about it during lunch, and the dwarf promises to come down from his spell scribing and have a look.  

He spends a few minutes sniffing the air and examining everyone’s reagents before stopping at Dranko’s table.  Dranko is working on improving his _whip of the searing tongue_, but on the corner of the table he is steeping sparrow feathers in a thick infusion, anticipatory of the _winged shield_ he intends to make for Ernie.  

“Ah!” says Kibi.  Here’s the problem.   The vapors from the yellowvine extract Dranko’s using for his bird wings are mixing with Aravis’ sulfur.   You don’t want those things to mingle in the air – it’ll thicken in your lungs and give you the wheezes.  The extract’s pretty thick though, and the vapors don’t travel far.  Aravis, you should probably switch places with Morningstar.  That should solve the problem.  And we should all get _cure disease_ spells in the next couple of days.”

The arrangements are made, and work continues apace.  The only incident that comes of the switch is when Edghar, finding himself closer to Aravis’ pungent project, vomits on the floor.  Aravis glances up only long enough to observe:

“Save that.  Spell components.” 

…before returning to his _headband of intellect_

One Certain Step has stumbled into an unusual way to avoid boredom.  Only a few days into the item-crafting frenzy, the Kivian paladin finds himself the only one in the living room.  Flicker is off honing his roguish skills on an unsuspecting citizenry (and the less Step knows about that the better), and the others are all either down in that horrific basement or shut in their rooms with their spellbooks.  He has spent the morning out in the back yard hacking up a practice dummy, and is enjoying a cup of juice on the sofa when there is a knock on the door.   Eddings is in the kitchen cleaning up and doesn’t hear, so Step gets up and answers the door himself. 

He greets a young teenager, a boy of fourteen or so years, wearing a tabard denoting him as a novice of Werthis.  The youth is clearly nervous, and Step (after applying the Farazil Test himself) invites him into the Greenhouse.

“I am Foster, from the Church of Werthis,” he says.  “You must be…er… One Certain Step, right?”

“Yes,” says Step.  “You know me?”

“This is the Greenhouse, right?  I was told that the Heroes of the Kalkas Peaks lived here.  The ones who also helped Faskel Giantbane kill the Ventifact Colossus.  That’s you, right?”

“While I personally was not involved with the Colossus, yes, you have come to the right place,” says Step.  “What can I do for you?”

“Er.  Well.  We were, um, hoping that you could help us.  Over at the church, I mean.  Of Werthis.”

“Take a deep breath, boy,” says Step, giving a reassuring smile.  “I’m sure we can help you.  What do you need?”

“Well, it’s kind of embarrassing, but…er… we need warriors.  To train the kids.  You see, the place is pretty much emptied out what with the war going on, but there’s always the need to teach the next group of students.  One of our last trainers just got called to duty down on the Peninsula.  Mosca is the only one left, and said we could really use the help, but all the likely people are gone, except for some city guardsmen who can’t take the time with manpower stretched so thin already, and someone said that there were fighting men and women in the Greenhouse who might be able to help, so they sent me to… er…”

Step stands up and bows to the boy.

“Foster, I would consider it an honor to come and assist in the training of your young warriors.   Please, lead the way.”

Foster is dumbstruck but delighted.  He stammers out an expression of gratitude and the two of them head for the door.

“Eddings, please tell the others that I will be at the Church of Werthis for the remainder of the afternoon.”

“Very good, sir.”

A few minutes later Step is being greeted by at the Church by Mosca, a strong, heavyset, middle-aged woman in chainmail.  She is overjoyed at the volunteer brought back from the Greenhouse by Foster. 

“We have two classes,” she says to Step, leading him down a high-ceilinged corridor.  “They were supposed to start this morning, but Tyveron was called to the war last night.  I can teach one, but there are too many for a single instructor.   The group I was going to give you is mostly teenagers, with a few younger children.  The oldest is seventeen.  Have you taught children to fight before?”

“No,” says Step.  “But I am a skilled fighter, and I learned the arts myself at a young age.  I will be able to train them.”

“We don’t have as much time as I’d like.  The church leaders want them ready for real conflict in six weeks.  Now, I don’t think anyone intends them to be front-line combatants that soon, but they will serve as runners, aides and servants, and should know what to do with a sword in a pinch.  A couple of the older children have real potential, I think.  And here we are.”

She turns from the hallway into a courtyard, where thirty children ranging in age from nine to seventeen are taking the opportunity to misbehave in the absence of adult supervision.   Most are sparring chaotically with their wooden training swords; Step notes that their technique ranges from decent to atrocious.  

Mosca clears her throat and the students snap to attention, forming up in ragged rows in front of her.  The gawk at Step, an impressive figure in his magical plate mail.

“Children, this is One Certain Step.  He has seen many battles and vanquished many enemies.  He is going to help make you into strong warriors.  You will treat him with the respect due to any elder of the Church, and obey his commands as they were my own.  Understood?”

Thirty heads bob up and down.  

Step looks out over the ranks of kids – mostly boys, but with a few girls as well – and picks up a wooden sword that leans against the wall.  Without saying anything he walks to the nearest boy (a gangly kid about twelve years old), flicks his sword out, and trips him with a clean sweep.  The boy falls with a thud on his posterior. 

The other kids start to laugh, but Step is already moving to the next kid.  Whoomph!  A sixteen-year old tomboy is sent sprawling.   Before ten seconds have passed, another three kids have been knocked on their butts.  The others, realizing what’s going on, start to defend themselves.  

It doesn’t matter.  Step moves gracefully through the crowd, leaving bruised, scattered children on the ground in his wake.  One minute later, all thirty kids have been knocked down.  Only the oldest boy, the seventeen-year-old (whose name is Thommel) forces Step to execute so much as a single feint.  The paladin returns to stand by Mosca and watches while they stand, groaning and muttering. 

“That was the first lesson,” he says gravely.  “How to fall down.  The next lesson will be how to fall down without hurting yourselves so much.   Let’s begin.”

Mosca turns, somehow manages to suppress a grin, and murmurs “have fun” before leaving her students alone with their new teacher.

* * *

Step returns in the early evening, satisfied that his students have made progress.  By tomorrow their bruises should have healed well enough for another session.  Mosca was pleased that Step wanted to return, her students somewhat less so.  The others of the Company are greatly amused to hear what Step has been up to.  Several of them express interest in helping with the training with some of their few free hours – Ernie especially, who knows plenty of tricks useful for shorter combatants.

Kibi announces that he’s going to leave for Eggemoggin in a few minutes.

“I’m going to _teleport_ he says proudly.  “Anyone want to come with me?  It’ll just be for the evening, so I can surprise my folks.  We’ll be back in the morning.”

“On your first _teleport_?”  Morningstar raises her eyes skeptically.  

“I’m sure there won’t be any problems.  We’ll go to my front doorstep – I’m very familiar with it, so the chances of a mistake are really small.”

Morningstar agrees to accompany him – she just wants a few minutes to pray for the spell _water breathing._  Step also agrees to go with him.   Kibi waves his arms around, utters some arcane syllables, and in a sliver of an instant the three of them are standing safely outside Kibi’s childhood home.  The sun is setting over the mountains, and the sounds of dwarven laughter come from a neighbor’s house.

“It worked!”  Kibi exclaims.

“Just as you said it would,” says Step.  “Well done.”

Kibi knocks on the door, and is soon swept up in the overjoyed embrace of his mother.  

“Bim!  Your son is here!  He just magicked himself over straight away from Tal Hae!”

A warm family reunion follows.  Kibi notices that his parents have acquired more expensive furnishings since his last visit.  It seems that the prestige afforded the father of one of the Heroes of the Kalkas Peaks has increased the demand for his stonecutting.  Business has been booming for Bim Tazhadson.  

Overnight in the Bimson household, Morningstar goes into Ava Dormo to meet again with Evenstar.   Evenstar introduces a dozen or so of her sisters from Kivia, training in the field outside the dream of Amber’s church in Tal Hae.  There are others, says Evenstar, who are busily scribing _scrolls of direct dreaming_ so that they can all come to Charagan when the pinch comes.  They discuss matters of personnel and training techniques for a few moments, before Evenstar suddenly holds up a hand.

“Excuse me, Morningstar.  I am being addressed.  Please guard my body for a moment.”  

Her eyes glaze over for a second, and she stands mute.  Morningstar looks on, puzzled.  A minute later Evenstar’s eyes refocus.

“My apologies,” she says.  “One of my sisters had a message for me to give to you.”

“How did you do that?”  asks Morningstar, intrigued.  “I mean, communicate with someone in the waking world while also staying here with me.”

“Don’t you know?”  Evenstar looks surprised.  “It is one of the dreaming techniques my mother taught me.  I can maintain a general awareness over my real body while I walk in Ava Dormo.  If someone approaches or addresses me, I will know it.  If I wish, I can move my consciousness from one aspect to the other, depending on where my awareness is needed.  For a short period of time, I can even act in _both_ places at once.  If you’d like, I can teach how the techniques.”

“I’d like that very much.  But what was the message?”

“It was a query from your associate Snokas.  He wishes to know if you give your permission for him to return to his home in southern Kivia.”

Morningstar thinks for a moment before answering.

“I’d like for him to stay with you a little while longer,” she says at last.  “But tell him soon.  He has served us well, and I’d like to have him as a possible guard and messenger until out business – whenever that is – is concluded.”

“As you wish.”

* * *

The next morning Kibi _teleports_ back to Tal Hae, again without mishap.  Most of the Company settles in for another day of busy crafting and scribing, while Flicker hits the streets and Step heads over to the Church of Werthis to continue his volunteer work.  All is going smoothly, when Grey Wolf (in the midst of drawing a tricky symbol of the spell _assassins’ senses_) hears a sharp sound from down the hall.  He sits bolt upright.  It sounded like the start of a high-pitched shriek, cut off after less than a second.  It was a familiar sound.  It was…

“That was the crystal ball!” cries Ernie, bounding up the stairs.  “It’s Ozilinsh!”  

They rush into the secret room, expecting to see Ozilinsh’s face (or maybe Mrs. Horn’s) in the glass globe upon the table.  Instead they find that a piece of paper has been stuck to the – well, the “inside” of the crystal ball.   It’s bowed out (from their point of view) in a convex curve, making it hard to read.  The badly scrawled handwriting doesn’t help matters any.  But soon the whole Company is crowded around the crystal ball, and together they make out the content of the message: 

*cannot disengage now.  3 months at outside, probably less.  Tell Crunard, assemble troops at Verdshane.   Stasis will double as 48-hour warning when it falls.*

...to be continued...


----------



## Victim

What the heck does that mean?

You'd think someone would invent a more powerful version of Sending with a greater than 25 word capacity.


----------



## Samnell

Victim said:
			
		

> *What the heck does that mean?
> 
> You'd think someone would invent a more powerful version of Sending with a greater than 25 word capacity. *




That means that Naradawk and his army are about to break through. The Spire are too busy holding them up to let off for a second. They think they can keep this up for three months, but probably less. Naradawk et al will be coming through a portal in Verdshane. Forty-eight hours before they do, the stasis trap on said portal will fail.

The Company are to inform King Crunard of the problem so he can concentrate troops in the area.


----------



## Fade

So "End of world rescheduled for three months time. Tell Crunard."


----------



## Plane Sailing

Victim said:
			
		

> *You'd think someone would invent a more powerful version of Sending with a greater than 25 word capacity. *




And don't forget, this isn't a sending - it is a note scrawled on a piece of paper held against a crystal-ball-communicator-thingy!

p.s. Lovely to see One Certain Step move out of the shadows and onto centre stage for a change!

Cheers


----------



## Sagiro

Samnell said:
			
		

> *
> That means that Naradawk and his army are about to break through. The Spire are too busy holding them up to let off for a second. They think they can keep this up for three months, but probably less. Naradawk et al will be coming through a portal in Verdshane. Forty-eight hours before they do, the stasis trap on said portal will fail.
> 
> The Company are to inform King Crunard of the problem so he can concentrate troops in the area. *




Correct on all counts!

-Sagiro


----------



## wolff96

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *...the seventeen-year-old (whose name is Thommel) forces Step to execute so much as a single feint.*




Could that be a nod to Thrommel of Temple of Elemental Evil (and various sequels) fame?

Great update as usual, Sagiro.


----------



## Samnell

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Correct on all counts!
> *




*bows* For my next trick I'll find a RL gaming group.


----------



## coyote6

Interesting -- it was a note, but (assuming you count "48" as one word) it was also exactly 25 words long. Maybe it was a note dictated from a _sending_.

I bet the players were just getting over the last end of the world.


----------



## Nail

coyote6 said:
			
		

> *I bet the players were just getting over the last end of the world. *




...oh, I'm sure they jus' take it in stride.  Or jus' add it to th' list....


----------



## Fade

Written on a scrap of paper in someone's pocket:

* Make magic items
* Defeat P.
* Collect laundry
* Save World
* Free dwarves from Guild of Chains
* Call (sending?) mum
* Collect other Eye
* Order food
* Save world (again)
* Have _fireball_ damage to Greenhouse repaired
...etc


----------



## Piratecat

We were pretty freaked out over this. And by "we", read "I". It took me a while to figure out why.

Turns out that I was making some implicit metagame assumptions about when this would all come down. I thought it would be the climax of the campaign, occurring in another few years. 

I was wrong.

So now I'm feeling dreadfully underprepared and vulnerable, like showing up for school and learning that there's a test that day, and you forgot to wear pants!


----------



## Milo Windby

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *So now I'm feeling dreadfully underprepared and vulnerable, like showing up for school and learning that there's a test that day, and you forgot to wear pants! *




Cats don't wear pants...

Seriously though, does this look like the climax of a years-long, enormous, intricate story arc or is Sagiro planning some more RBDMness to spring on you guys at the last minute, thus prolonging the story?


----------



## Piratecat

I asked him about what comes after. He shut his mouth, grinned knowingly, and chortled.  Always a good sign.

New from Littlejohn (David Hendee)!  A portrait of Kay.  What do you think?


----------



## KidCthulhu

We played last night.  Some spoilers for the Return on the End of the World - Part 2.

1) Death
2) Mayhem
3) Gore
4) Bears
5) Halfling whup ass
6) Flicker's moment of shining glory

Plus guys in red armor, battles in Ava Dormo, pesky trees, pesky mages, a name we haven't heard in a long time and more...


----------



## thatdarncat

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *a name we haven't heard in a long time and more... *




Sagiro?


----------



## RangerWickett

I demand you edit your last post and remove that name!  Bad poster, bad bad!

If it is the case, it would've been much cooler for people to have forgotten.  Bad form!


----------



## Samnell

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Plus guys in red armor, battles in Ava Dormo, pesky trees, pesky mages, a name we haven't heard in a long time and more... [/B]




I KNEW IT! I knew it when I first read about him. I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!

...what was I talking about again?


----------



## Samnell

Stupid double post.


----------



## thatdarncat

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> *I demand you edit your last post and remove that name!  Bad poster, bad bad!
> 
> If it is the case, it would've been much cooler for people to have forgotten.  Bad form!
> 
> *




nah, doesn't fit, we hear something about sagiro every day or two


----------



## oliverhenshaw

*Re: name*

we do?

Not the same way, surely?


----------



## madriel

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *So now I'm feeling dreadfully underprepared and vulnerable, like showing up for school and learning that there's a test that day, and you forgot to wear pants! *




Ah, so that's why your parrot looks so astonished.


----------



## Plane Sailing

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *We were pretty freaked out over this. And by "we", read "I". It took me a while to figure out why.
> 
> Turns out that I was making some implicit metagame assumptions about when this would all come down. I thought it would be the climax of the campaign, occurring in another few years.
> 
> I was wrong.
> *




It is an understandable bit of metagame thinking though...

"mmm, we are probably going to end up fighting against a guy who is only just being held back by a bunch of Archmages. I guess when we reach their level we might be able to join in and turn the tide"

That Sagiro is a bit of a RB, eh


----------



## Nail

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> *It is an understandable bit of metagame thinking though...
> 
> "mmm, we are probably going to end up fighting against a guy who is only just being held back by a bunch of Archmages. I guess when we reach their level we might be able to join in and turn the tide"*




Two ways to think about this IMO:
    #1) This "planes overlapping" thing needs to have a permanent solution.  Since those of high level (i.e. the Archmages) haven't been able to do it, seems as if PC power level is not relevant to the solution.  Their items, OTOH, may be......

    #2) No good DM in his right mind would throw away a good villian.  The up-coming *end of the world* is just a pause....after which, yer bound to see some form of that bad, bad, bad Emperor again.....or at least his lackeys.


----------



## Zustiur

*thoughts*

Maybe I'm getting all Dragonlance-y about this but... the archmages can't deal with Naradork (misspelling intended)  coz he's on his home plane and therefore much more powerful, or something, and the party will have to fight him the moment he comes through.. OR they'll have to go through and fight him on his turf... something like that 

PC, maybe he's brought the event forward coz he wants to make like a mage in your campaign and move to the other side of the country? I hope and assume not but....

No?
Alright then, YOU try to think of an explanation 


madriel wrote:
Ah, so that's why your parrot looks so astonished.

Ah Touche!
Zustiur.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

bump!


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 157 *_

There is a dumbfounded silence.  On the one hand, the message is fairly unambiguous.  But… is this really the beginning of the end?  Three months before the Planar Gate falls and Naradawk returns to Abernia?  The Archmagi, for all of their tremendous power, are going to fail of their task?

“I frikkin’ hate Verdshane,” Dranko grumbles.

“Say,” says Kibi, only half innocently.  “Isn’t that where that woman caught you sneaking around and held you hostage?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We should get word to the Spire right away!” exclaims Ernie. 

“I’ll cast a _sending_ to Yale,” says Morningstar.

She sends:  *Message from Ozilinsh follows.  Three months maximum, probably less.  Tell Crunard assemble troops at Verdshane.  Stasis will double 48 hour warning when it falls.*

The response: *Understood.  Knew this day would come.  Troops will be sent to Verdshane from Balani pending confirmation.  Inform Duke Nigel.  Send more information if possible.*

Morningstar follows up with another _sending_: *We’re not sure where to go next.  Could be at Balani in 30 days.  Best place for us?*

Back from Yale:  *Prefer to have you ready to assist Verdshane defense.  Is Aravis ready?  Protect him!  You’d be valuable in Balani, but not sure if worth risk.*

“I can prepare another _sending_ for Duke Nigel,” says Morningstar.

“Here’s an idea,” says Dranko, grinning despite the grim news.  “How about we _walk_ across town and meet with him _in person_.  It’s crazy, I know, but I’d like to stretch my legs and get some fresh air.”

“Oh,” says Morningstar.  “Yeah.”

* *

Duke Nigel runs his hands through his thinning hair.  

“I suppose it was inevitable,” he says quietly.  A splash of sunlight from a window in the ducal audience chamber falls across his face.   “I hope we’re ready.  Aravis, are _you_ ready?”

“I don’t know yet,” Aravis admits.  “Right now, probably not.  But I intend to be ready.  In another week I will have finished work on an item that will expand my understanding of the arcane.  I will go into the Maze, and learn what I need to learn."

“Good, good.” Nigel nods, frowning.  Such things are obviously beyond him, and they all know he has no choice but to take Aravis at his word.  “Keeping Aravis safe needs to be your top priority.”

The Company agrees.

“We haven’t been idle, I’m happy to say,” the Duke continues.  “We’ve had several hundred troops and plenty of workers up in Verdshane for some time now, preparing the battlefield and making strategic preparations.  Now we’ll start reassigning troops there in earnest.  We’ll have to weaken our positions on the Peninsula, but we won’t have to decimate them.  It’s a concern, obviously, but Verdshane is now our top priority.  We can only hope that the Delfirian’s enemies in Kivia – the Bederen – can keep them busy enough in the upcoming weeks and months.”

Ernie suddenly perks up, and the others can almost see the light-bulb above his head. “Er, excuse me, Your Grace, but I have an idea.”

“Yes, Ernest?”

“Well, Your Grace, Morningstar has recently made contact – in the Dream World – with other Priestesses of Ell, in Kivia, who live close to Bederen.  Maybe we could use them to contact the Bederen leaders, and set up a meeting in Dream where you could coordinate with them.”

Duke Nigel looks over to Morningstar.

“Would that be possible?”

“I don’t know,” answers Morningstar.  “But I could certainly talk to Evenstar tonight.  I don’t know how much contact she’s had with the Bederen.  They’ve always valued their secrecy.  But it won’t hurt to ask.”

“Please do,” says Nigel.  “We’ve often wished there was some way to contact the Bederen directly, but the Uncrossable Sea prohibits all of the usual means, magic and mundane.  It would be of tremendous benefit if we could convince them to push harder while our own troops are moved elsewhere.”

“We could help with the Delfirians while our soldiers are re-deployed,” Grey Wolf offers.

“While I’m sure you could be of great use, I don’t want to risk Aravis,” Nigel answers.  “Or any of you, for that matter.   However things go in Verdshane with the Crosser’s Maze, I want as much strength in place as we can spare.  I want your Company to be ready to defend Verdshane.”

“As far as that goes,” says Kibi, “I could get plenty of dwarves up there in a hurry.  I know a lot of people from Eggemoggin and Hae Kalkas who could do a lot of good in one month, let alone three.”

“That would be extremely useful, I’d imagine,” says the Duke.  “You should coordinate with General Anabrook; she’s in charge of the defense at Verdshane.  She’s the best we have.  As intelligent as Largent, but more adaptive, more creative.

“Is there anything else for you to report?”

“Well, Your Grace,” says Dranko.  “We might as well let you know that we were attacked again recently, by another one of Parthol’s frikkin’ _simulacra_.   It makes me think that we shouldn’t be surprised if P makes his presence felt at the battle.”

“Ah, the elusive Parthol Runecarver.   He’s an unpleasant wild-card in all of this.  The Spire has given much thought to how Parthol could have survived this long unnoticed.   I don’t like saying so, but at least some of the Archmagi have expressed the opinion that he has become a lich.”

“Crap!” Dranko utters, even in the presence of royalty.

“My thoughts exactly,” says the Duke with a grim smile.  “But we have too much to worry about already, just including the dangers we know we’re facing.  If Parthol wants to have his say, well, we’ll deal with that when the time comes.  I trust that the Archmagi will know what to do.”

Everyone agrees on that!

“And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to help get things rolling.  Moving a few thousand troops won’t happen by itself.” 

He stands.

“It’s the beginning of the end, my friends.  I hope it ends well.”

* *

The Company returns to the Greenhouse, ready to answer the question:  “Just how many magic items can we create in three months?”  The busy days start to tick away…

Step continues to help train the kids over at the Church of Werthis.  Some other members of the Company start to join him for evening sessions, eager to leave the smelly basement lab of the Greenhouse and keep their muscles loose.  

On one such evening, Step stands at one end of the training yard with Dranko, Ernie and Grey Wolf spread out near him.  Before him the class of thirty kids stands at attention, ordered in crisp rows, alert.  

“I have been teaching you about teamwork,” says Step.  “Tonight you’ll need to show me what you’ve learned.  The four of us are here, ready to defend ourselves.  You outnumber us almost eight to one, but we are much stronger than you are.  Remember what I’ve taught you about flanking, and about assisting one another in battle.  You may begin when ready.  

Step stands back.  Grey Wolf grins at him, and the members of the Company ready themselves.  

Immediately the oldest boy, Thommel, gathers all of the kids into a huddle, and starts whispering to them. Dranko tries to listen in but is too far away to hear what’s being planned.  After about thirty seconds they break the huddle, form into groups of eight, and start to slowly advance on the defending instructors.  But when they have closed to about fifteen feet away, Thommel shouts “Now!”

The three groups of kids that had been advancing on Grey Wolf, Step and Ernie veer away.  The fourth group charges Dranko en masse.  Dranko readies himself to deflect their swings, but the kids don’t bother.  The kid in front leaps at Dranko’s chest, and the half-orc easily knocks him aside.  But the second kid lunges at his ankles, and two more grab at his arms.  Although he shrugs off a good half-dozen of the kids, the students from the other groups also start throwing themselves on the pile.   Soon Dranko is dragged down by the sheer weight of the entire class pig piling on top of him.   Some are grabbing at his hands, trying to disarm him.  Others are managing to poke him with their wooden swords, or simply pummeling him with their fists.  After thirty seconds of this – with Step looking on with approval – Thommel shouts “Change!” and the kids start disentangling themselves from the pile.  Quickly they are back in formation, some of them hopping or limping to simulate wounds incurred in the rush.  Dranko just lies there, slightly bruised.  

“Now!”  Thommel cries again, and the whole class converges on Ernie.  A similar scene ensues, ending with Ernie buried beneath 1500 pounds of students.   When they disengage, Step orders them back into formation.

“In battle,” he says sternly, “many of you would have died using that tactic.   But I am very pleased.  I did not teach you overbearing, but you have applied other lessons, and took advantage of your collective strength.  Thommel, your leadership skills are noted.  All of you should be proud.”

The students beam.  They have learned that Step is not easy to please.

“You have earned three minutes of rest.  Afterward, we will run.”

Thirty smiles fade.

* *

Morningstar meets Evenstar one evening in Ava Dormo to discuss sending an emissary to the Bederen warchiefs.   Evenstar confesses that her enclave has never made contact with any officials in Bederen, and only rarely do they even venture to small villages to trade.  But she is more than willing to send a half-dozen sisters, with Snokas serving as bodyguard, to make contact with Bederen leaders if possible.  She figures it shouldn’t be too long before such a group would be captured and questioned as to their purpose.   With luck, they’ll get to talk with someone who will take them seriously.  

On many evenings, Morningstar also continues to train the rest of the Company in Ava Dormo.  Using the prayer _dream anchor_ she can bring all of them to Ava Dormo with her, where they practice fighting, moving, and concentrating on maintaining their personal realities.    All of them become accustomed to arriving with their own equipment and items.  Casting spells is tougher, but with practice they learn this too.  The speed-of-thought movement is still beyond most of their skills; only Ernie and Step can muster the mental discipline.  Still, Morningstar is confident that the rest of the Company could prove useful in an Ava Dormo altercation.

Evenstar is also continuing to school her own sisters, and helping to coordinate them with Amber’s troops.  June and Previa, the two most proficient of the Charagan sisters, work closely with the Kivians on developing group tactics.  Many of Evenstar’s sisters are too old and frail to fight, but they are extremely good at removing the arms and armor of others with concerted thought.   

* * 

Kibi just wants to finish up a _sash of transparency_ he’s been working on for Dranko, before _teleporting_ to Verdshane to speak with General Anabrook.  On the last day of its creation, Kibi holds it up to the light of a _continual flame_ torch.

“Dranko, you said you wanted it red, right?”

“Yeah,” says Dranko suspiciously.  “Why?”

Kibi has been threatening for days to do something embarrassing in the creation of Dranko’s sash (which will allow the casting of _improved invisibility_ 1/day, with 50 charges).   Dranko has been growing more and more tired of these ‘threats,’ especially knowing that Kibi really would follow through if given any leeway.

“What would you think of a pale red?” Kibi asks innocently.

“How pale?”

“Um.  Very pale.  Extremely pale.”

“You mean ‘pink?’”

“I guess you might say that.  It just seemed fitting for a froofy sash like this.”

“No!”

“Oh, fine.”

Grey Wolf gets a similar item but accepts it in the form of a proper dwarvish-styled vest.  Kibi, always one to consider style as keenly as substance, clearly considers Dranko’s fashion sense to be less than sensible.   A sash?  Please!

Dranko grumbles and turns back to his own work.  He is nearly done improving his _whip of the searing tongue_, making it more magical and imbuing it with the _sure striking_ ability.  He dabs a bit of enchanted dye onto the handle, and there is a curious hissing sound.

“I wonder if that’s supposed to… whoa!”

The handle of the whip starts to glow a dull red.  Dranko yelps in pain and drops it to the ground.  

“That thing is _hot!_  I hope I didn’t mess something up…”

As he watches the whip-handle turns a bright orange, and then pure white.  Only after several minutes have passed does it cool down and return to its normal hue.  Dranko gingerly picks it up, and notices right away that it’s lighter and more balanced.  He gives it a test crack, curling the end around an empty metal vial and deftly depositing the vial into his open hand.

“Hot damn!  It worked!  Man, I’m good.”

* *

The next day Kibi, Morningstar and Ernie get ready to _teleport_ to Verdshane.  Kibi is familiar enough with the inside of the inn (the Shadow Chaser) to feel comfortable that nothing will go wrong.  Morningstar suggests that they put on their official uniforms, designating them as King’s solders.   When all is ready, Kibi waves his arms around and…

…they find themselves surrounded by armed guards, all scrambling to point loaded crossbows at them.  Kibi looks around confused… this _is_ the Shadow Chaser, clearly.  

“Hello!” he announces cheerfully.  “We’re here to offer our assistance.”

None of the guards lower their crossbows. 

“How nice of you,” says a sarcastic voice, approaching from behind the lines of bowmen.  “Perhaps you’d care to introduce yourselves.”

“My name is Kibilhathur Bimson,” says Kibi, addressing the advancing figure.  This is Morningstar of Ell and Ernest Roundhill.  We’re from Tal Hae.   Duke Nigel said that General Anabrook could use our help.”

A tall figure emerges from the ranks of crossbowmen.  His face is furrowed with a deep frown that softens – if you can call it that – into an annoyed grimace.  

“Kibilhathur Bimson,” he says.  “While I’m sure we will be most grateful for your help, perhaps in the *future* you could give us a *warning* that you are about to teleport *directly* into the *command center* of our military operation!”

“Err…” says Kibi.

“We’re very sorry!” pipes up Ernie.  “We didn’t know this was where you had your headquarters.”

“And it’s the only place I remembered well enough to _teleport_ to,” adds Kibi.

The man sighs. 

“Please don’t do it again,” he grumbles.  “It’s a good thing you’re wearing those uniforms.  Otherwise my men might have shot first and asked questions afterward.”

“We really are sorry, sir.” says Morningstar.

“Yes. Well.”

The man gestures to the guards, who relax and go back to their posts.

“I am Lieutenant Madoc,” he says.  “Perhaps we should talk in private about the purpose of your visit.”

The four of them adjourn to a windowless office.  Kibi makes his offer to supply dwarves to help in the defense, and Madoc accepts.  

“They can help build redoubts along the perimeter of the Mud Zone.  We’re putting up as many as we can, and building platforms in the trees.”

When the three members of the Company look puzzled, Madoc explains.

“For months we’ve been clearing out all of trees around the Gate.  Our best intelligence is that, when the enemy forces arrive, they’ll tend to be clustered in that vicinity.  We’ll have quite a welcome in store for ‘em.  You see, we’ve also diverted part of the river that flows just south of here.  We’ve got wooden channels pouring water into a huge area, night and day, day and night.  It’s a big area – half a mile on a side – and we’re turning it into a muddy soup.   Give us another couple of months to add new channels, and pretty much that whole area will be a nightmare for foot-soldiers or cavalry.   We call it the Mud Zone.  But it should be a killing field. 

“You see, we’ll have hundreds – maybe over a thousand – archers, set up all along the forest perimeter.  We have tens of thousands of arrows at hand, and fletchers are working around the clock making more.  While the enemy troops are slogging slowly through the mud to get out of the Mud Zone, we’ll be raining arrows down on them like… well, like rain.”

Madoc tells them more about the defenses – that since there are no guarantees that every enemy soldier will appear in the Mud Zone, there will be kingdom forces spread out in strike teams throughout the surrounding forest.   And that Kinnet Gorge will have a stationary guard ordered to drive enemies away who might tamper with the hanging boxes.  And that the magical key-room itself (from which Meledien was chased away some months ago) will not only be physically barricaded with logs, but rigged to explode with dozens of barrels of Karthian Oil.  Some brave soldiers are sealed inside with plenty of food and water, along with orders to blow the place up if any enemy forces gain entry.  

“Anyway, if you can get us some stonewrights and carpenters and such, it will help us fortify the perimeter.  We won’t have the time to wall off the whole two miles, but every bit helps.”

Kibi finds a spot on the road about fifty yards down from the Shadow Chaser, near a roadside sentry post.   He spends a couple of hours studying that spot, memorizing every detail, intending for it to be his future arrival point when _teleporting_.   Morningstar casts _wind walk_ and returns to Tal Hae with Ernie, while Kibi _teleports_ again, this time to his home in Eggemoggin.  Over the next few days he visits numerous local watering holes, and even makes a trip into Hae Kalkas.  By making clear the great prestige that will be earned by helping fortify kingdom positions against a perilous foe, Kibi manages to collect many eager dwarves for the task.   The dwarves are less happy to learn that they must be _reduced_ to expedite _teleporting_ large numbers of them, but Kibi assures them that no will see them in a shrunken state.  On the matter of his _teleport’s_ reliability Kibi dissembles a bit, making vague assurances that everything will be fine.

The first batch of tiny dwarves arrives near Verdshane – in plain view of two human sentries.  The dwarves are mortified, and start to mutter angrily at Kibi.   One of the guards guffaws.

“Dwarfish dwarves!  Who’d a thunk it!”

Kibi, at full size and wearing his royal uniform, advances on the guard and lets his hand drop to the handle of his axe.  

“You will *not* speak of this to anyone.  That is an order.  Do you understand?”

Scree amasses threateningly around Kibi’s feet.  The guard becomes businesslike and snaps a saulte.

“Yes sir!”

Kibi and the dwarves retreat around a bend in the road until the _reduce_ wears off, after which he studies a new patch of ground, more reliably out of human sight.

* * 

About a week after receiving the note from Ozilinsh’s tower, Aravis finishes crafting his _headband of intellect +4_.   He gathers the Company around him.

“Friends, I’m going to journey into the Crosser’s Maze.  I want to find past Keepers, and get them to tell me what I should do about stopping Naradawk.  I don’t know how long it will take.  If you absolutely have to snap me out of it,  Pewter can claw my shoulder – I’ll know that’s the signal.  But only if it’s really urgent.  While I’m gone, I’m leaving Pewter in charge of my body – just in case of emergencies.  He should be able to move me around in a pinch.”

“Don’t worry, boss,” Pewter says over their mindlink.  “I’ll take good care of you while you’re gone.  I bet it’ll fun driving you around.”

“Pewter…”

“Just kidding, boss.  No worries.”

Aravis sets the _headband_ on his brow, and feels his mind expanding, his understanding of the arcane mysteries growing.  The Maze seems clearer to him now than ever.

“Wish me luck,” he says.  And in he goes.  

Aravis is sitting down, back against a wall, Pewter perched on his shoulder.  Aravis’ face goes slack, the stars still glittering out of his eye sockets.   About a minute later, the body starts moving around jerkily.  His arms twitch, his head lolls, and one of his legs starts to wander.  Pewter still sits calmly by Aravis’ head.  Then Aravis opens his mouth, and slurred, incomprehensible vocalizations come out.  

Worried, Kay casts _speak with animals_ and asks Pewter if everything’s ok.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.  I’m just trying out the body.  I want to get in some practice, in case we need to go somewhere in a hurry.  Never hurts to be prepared, right?  Still having a bit of trouble with the vocal chords, but I think I’ve almost got it.”

In a horrific parody of Aravis’ normal voice, his body says:  “Hiiiieeeeyy, Eeeeeevory Wunnnnnn.”

“Please don’t do that,” says Kay.

“No problem,” Pewter says in feline.  “Aravis is about to head inward, for real.  I don’t really understand the Crosser’s Maze, but I gather it’s got some kind of huge inner universe full of different – er – space-times, or something.  He’s not having any difficulty that I can… uh, hold on.”

Pause.

“Aravis says…  uh oh.  He says you should get your weapons ready.”

Kay relays this startling suggestion to the others, who scramble for weapons.

“He’s really sorry about this, but something’s coming back through the Maze.  The Boss didn’t see that one coming.  I’ll bet he’s…  Oh, he says it shouldn’t happen again.  There are… there are two of them.  Watch out!”

…to be continued…


----------



## Plane Sailing

> “It’s the beginning of the end, my friends. I hope it ends well.”




No kidding!

Thanks for the excellent, long update. You make it really easy to visualise everything that is going on!

Cheers


----------



## wolff96

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *...we’ll be raining arrows down on them like… well, like rain.*




Do you, by chance, read 8-Bit Theater, Sagiro?

In a recent Dynasty Warriors comic, they used this EXACT phrase. If it's a coincedence, it's even funnier.

Thanks for the great update!  Things are really getting close now...


----------



## Dr_Rictus

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *You see, we’ve also diverted part of the river that flows just south of here.  We’ve got wooden channels pouring water into a huge area, night and day, day and night.  It’s a big area – half a mile on a side – and we’re turning it into a muddy soup.*




Just so Sagiro's players don't think that I only conspire _against_ them (when I get a chance to conspire at all), I'd like to note that I also helped him cook up this little reception area for the invading forces.

<takes a bow>


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 158 *_

Aravis’ head tilts back and two jets of gray smoke blast out of the star-wells of his eyes.  Everyone leaps back, nearly knocking over tables of delicate lab equipment.   The smoke jets arc out and downward, striking the floor in the middle of the basement.  They quickly form into two strange vaporous creatures, mildly reminiscent of Null Shadows, though (thankfully) without the same emanating horror.  They’re not much larger than ordinary humans, but their arms end in solidly sharp claws.

One Certain Step strides forward and swings with his flaming greatsword, but the blade goes right through the body of the beast.

“Not again,” he grumbles.

Kay discovers that, unlike Null Shadows, these things _can_ be harmed by magical weapons.  Her warhammer discovers some solid skeleton within the smoke – crunch!  Grey Wolf decides this is a good time to try out his new magic gift from Kibi, and activates his _vest of transparency_.  He hears a sound in his head like rocks grinding together, and his body fades from sight.  He draws Bostock, who whispers gleefully that Grey Wolf should waste no time in attacking.

Aravis executes an awkward crawl, his body controlled by Pewter.  With only a few bumps to the head, Pewter gets his master under one of the lab tables, with Step and Kay between him and the creatures.  But also wanting to contribute, Pewter thrashes Aravis’ arm around until it grabs the _wand of magic missiles_.  

The creatures lash out with their claws, striking Kay and Step.  The touch causes their muscles to stiffen, effectively making them _slowed_.  

Step slashes again, hoping to make contact, but the result is unfortunate.  Not only does the blade pass harmlessly through his foe’s body, but as he swings, everyone feels, just for a moment, the chill of Null Shadows.  Step’s flaming sword erupts in a fiery conflagration that catches on his arm and shirt.  Before he knows what’s happening, Step is on fire!

Flicker, who’s been having no luck hitting the monsters with his own short-sword, deftly shrugs off his cloak and starts putting out the paladin.  Dranko whips the monsters with his newly-improved magical whip, tearing away chunks of strange smoky flesh.  

Pewter concentrates as hard as he can, and just does manage to pronounce the command word for the _wand of magic missiles_.  With Aravis’ hand poking out from under the table, three _magic missiles_ thunk into one of the monsters.   Extinguished by Flicker, Step drops his greatsword and draws his bastard sword, a weapon carrying a more potent enchantment.  To his satisfaction it cleaves effectively into his opponent.   

Before too long, both of the monsters are efficiently dispatched by the present members of the Company.   A minute later Kay and Step’s muscles start to relax.  There is some grumbling directed toward Pewter, who crawls Aravis’ body out from under the table once it’s safe.   The cat arranges the wizard’s body in a comfortable sitting position.  Everyone else watches in silence, wondering to what ends the mind of their friend was voyaging…

* *

The Crosser’s Maze cannot be fully comprehended.  Any explanation must resort to simile and metaphor.

Heretofore, most of Aravis’ manipulations of the Crosser’s Maze have been to use it like (in effect) an extraordinarily powerful telescope, mounted high up in the multiverse beyond most normal planar boundaries.  He could “pan and zoom” his point of view, and in some cases (most notably with Grey Wolf) direct elemental energy to affect what he has seen, by focusing that energy through the “lense(es)” of living beings nearby.  It’s as though there’s a laser beam mounted on the side of the telescope.  

To extend this metaphor, Aravis has discovered that the telescope is mounted in the window of an impossibly huge and labyrinthine mansion.   He suspects that he can take his eye off the telescope, and go back in through that window, wherein lies the strange inner-world of the Maze.  He knows that, even with his newly expanded consciousness, only a being of intellect far exceeding his own could hope to understand what the Maze truly is.  But full understanding (he hopes) is not necessary.  He opens the window and casts his mind forward into the “Inner Maze.”

(At this point there is a glitch.  Some creatures are waiting to jump through that window and out through Aravis into the real world.  There’s nothing he can do to stop them, but he figures that Pewter will warn his friends to beware.  Quickly he “closes the window,” and sees now that it should be easy to stop it from happening again.  He observes that the borders of the Maze are crawling with such creatures, looking for ways out.  He doesn’t know what they are, how they came to be there or what they want, but they’re not very intelligent.)

They shy away from Aravis, seemingly afraid, and do not pursue him into the Interior.  Ah well.  On to more important business.

One of the surprising things he learns early on is that “time travel” within the Maze is not only possible, but also intrinsic to the way the Maze is constructed.  Such travel is difficult, tedious and extremely limited, but necessary for his journeys.  The Maze contains all things at all times, and with some work Aravis learns to shift his own frame of reference to any of them.  (It's still not clear to him whether he’d _actually_ be visiting other space-times, or if he'd be exploring a recreation generated by the Maze, or simply just witnessing a very elaborate and accurate illusion. Sure feels real to him, though.  He decides to assume that it’s either a real or semi-sentient recreation that acts in enough respects like reality that he can learn what he needs from it.  If he starts doubting what he sees and learns… down that path madness lies, and not just figuratively.)

This still leaves Aravis with a “needle-in-a-haystack” problem – where (and when) in all the vast expanse of the Maze are its former owners?  This would have been an impossible task, save for the fact that Aravis has _met_ a former owner before, not including Solomea (whom he had met _before_ acquiring the Maze himself).  

*>> In an undocumented side-adventure run by Piratecat earlier this year, the Company was drawn into the Maze by a villainous mirror-master named Paulos.  In the course of extricating themselves, the Company had a brief visit with an old Keeper of the Maze from Kivia.*

Aravis is able to recognize a type of mental energy signature unique to former Keepers, and he begins to concentrate, casting his mind deeper into the heart of the Maze.  Right away he notes that the Inner Maze is a veritable minefield.  Some of the danger is "physical" – magic vortices that could suck him in and spit him out into distant planes; eddies of magical force that could crush him into paste; energy storms raining down acid or ice in huge quantities -- that sort of thing.   But stretching through the general maelstrom is a connected lower-case-"m" maze of "constructed" bits -- like what Solomea had built for himself, or the mirror-master.

If he can find one of these “safe places," he can use it as a jumping-off point for nearby space-times.  Want to go back 3000 years to a Djinn kingdom in the Elemental Plane of Air? Find a safe spot built in approximately the correct time and place, go there, and start using the Maze to move yourself through the dimensions.

After some time (and he has no way of knowing how long, measured in the real world), Aravis’ concentration and mental exploration reveals several dozen “homes” of former Keepers of the Maze.  They are mostly concentrated in various times and places in Kivia, but a few are scattered throughout various Outer Planes, and two or three are in other Primes. One -- the oldest -- is in the Ethereal Plane.  The most recent is the "place" built by Solomea Pirenne -- it's already beginning to suffer from entropic breakdown.   

Aravis realizes that one of the Primes could be Volpos, where Naradawk presently resides.  That could offer some possibilities…  but alas, it is not to be.  He still has to do this the hard way.

With a start, he realizes something else – that if he wanted to spend a few decades at it, he could build himself a place of his own in the Inner Maze.  Maybe a good lab, or study, or library, or…

…must… concentrate…

Shaking his mind loose of stray thoughts, Aravis decides to start with the eldest of the various Keepers.  This is the one in the Ethereal Plane, a place which should be easy enough to navigate, as the mind-based method of traveling the Ethereal is similar to how one voyages in the Maze.  His destination – the home of the Keeper – is not difficult to find, but is extremely well protected by its owner.  The Keeper lives in a semi-solid floating fortress, constructed from adamant and congealed thoughts.  Swaths of sucking void swirl around its perimeter, and it takes great skill and concentration for Aravis to avoid them as he approaches.  And when he arrives at what look like the gates, he is bombarded with distracting thoughts.  For a moment he forgets why he is even here -- more important matters await him back on Charagan.  Or perhaps he should further explore the Ethereal Plane, or even the Astral.  Pewter is hungry; he should make sure his familiar is properly fed.  Wait! His parents are in danger! He must go to them! He must…  he must…

But Aravis’ concentration holds, and the gates become as mist to him, and he recalls his errand, and he goes in.

The Keeper, oldest that survives, calls itself Ascending. It has no form, no gender, but it is all around Aravis within the fortress.  Its thoughts form in his mind, all at once, and it takes grueling concentration to sort them out.

"Another has come."

"I am no longer concerned with your universe, Keeper."

"I sense your need."

"You are lucky to have survived this journey."

"Vhadish knows. Long after me he shared your purpose."

"I dislike disturbance. It draws me back."

"Return to your world, Keeper. Your answers are there."

"Leave me."

"Vhadish knows."

And then he finds himself miles away from the place, still in the Ethereal. The fortress of the Ascending is a mote at the edge of his perception within the Ethereal, and then it winks out, gone. He feels weak.  Even by Crosser's Maze standards it has been a surreal experience.

...to be continued...


----------



## RangerWickett

When will P-kitty type out what happened in that game?


----------



## Zaruthustran

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 158
> Even by Crosser's Maze standards it has been a surreal experience.
> 
> ...to be continued... *




Wow. Nice work! The Maze is so very cool, and it's completely not what it could have been: a supposedly awesome and mysterious item reduced to mere stats. I mean, how many campaigns have you been in (or run) where something like "the Ancient relic-sword of Kings of Old, Gurndast, the Edge of Thilmar" is reduced on some pc's sheet to "+2 LS, Holy, Flming". 

In other words, thank you for not making the Maze:
Aravis: I use the maze.
Sagiro: Make a Will save modified by Intelligence instead of Wisdom. DC 30.
Aravis: I make it.
Sagiro: Okay, you learn that you need to go to this place and do that task, which will prevent this other disaster.

No, the Maze is something else. It's cool. It's big. It's powerful. It's dangerous. Sweet.

Also: way to go with the "A Mind Forever Voyaging" reference. Nice touch!

-z


----------



## Sagiro

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> *
> ...
> In other words, thank you for not making the Maze:
> Aravis: I use the maze.
> Sagiro: Make a Will save modified by Intelligence instead of Wisdom. DC 30.
> Aravis: I make it.
> Sagiro: Okay, you learn that you need to go to this place and do that task, which will prevent this other disaster.
> 
> -z *



In the interest of full disclosure: I _do_ often ask Aravis' player to make "Maze Checks" when he tries something new or difficult.  He uses Aravis' "Knowledge: Planes" ranks, divided by two and then adjusted for INT bonus.

I _have_ tried to make the Maze something that no one, including both Aravis and the DM, will ever be able to comprehend in full. 

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 159 *_

Hovering in the Ethereal, Aravis says a prayer of thanks to Ascending for the help it has provided (figuring it will pick up his thoughts at some point).   Then he utters a prayer to Pikon, thanking Him for the strength of purpose to carry on.  He rests there for an unknown time, collecting his strength.  Then he starts to broadcast thoughts out into the Maze, of the name Vhadish, along with a notion, an idea, of an unknown Keeper.  More time passes.  His mind grows weary.  But he does eventually pick up a slight return resonance that allows him to narrow down his search to a series of Keepers in western Kivia, within a 700-year window.   He glides through the space-time of the Maze to investigate them.  

He finds Vhadish on his third attempt.

The first Keeper he tries to visit has built himself (or herself) a sealed cube made from what looked like fused skulls. It's horrible, and, for better or worse, impenetrable.

The second is worse -- the abode looks like a fairly normal mansion, but it is in the center of a raging storm of boiling acid.

Fortunately for Aravis, the home of Keeper Vhadish, once King Vhadish XXIII of Tev, is more reasonably protected. He has built for himself a glade of carefully positioned trees, surrounded by a ring of steel-bodied golems. But Vhadish has been waiting for Aravis, having sensed his thought emanations from afar. He instructs his golems to allow his guest entry, and invites him to talk over a meal of crown beetles in wine (a Tevian delicacy from the time).

Vhadish XXIII ruled Tev about 650 years ago (relative to Aravis’ own time). He is magnanimous, pompous, philosophical, generous, and unconsciously arrogant.  When asked, he shares his thoughts on why some Keepers have died.

"Time is meaningless in the Inner Maze," says Vhadish. "Were all Keepers of steady and sound mind, they would all be here in perpetuity, regardless of when their physical bodies met their end. Of course some Keepers did not control the Maze well enough or for long enough to build themselves any kind of lasting dwelling here. And of those that did -- well, some of them grow tired of the Maze, and wish to rejoin their souls that have moved on. Others are killed while traveling, or killed by invaders, or killed by themselves in fits of ruinous insanity."

Aravis turns the conversation to his current task, explaining the nature of his difficulty and what he has learned thus far.  While there is a “main Gate” between Abernia and Volpos, all of the fabric of space-time in the vicinity is weak and starting to tear.  The chief problem facing the Archmagi is that they can only hold the Gate closed... but it's like putting extra locks on a door when the whole wall is in danger of crumbling apart.

As far as using the Maze to affect space-time, Aravis has already got the basics figured out. He can redirect strands of elemental energy through the bodies of nearby living beings, and use the resulting focused energy to affect the universe. 

Vhadish listens intently as Aravis explains the problem and then smiles condescendingly, as might a schoolteacher asked a simple question by one of his students.

"Ah, yes, the problem of planar portals, and their effects on surrounding space-time. It took me a long time to puzzle that one out. I faced a similar problem in the 19th year of my reign, when some renegade Black Circle madmen tried to open a portal to the 8th layer of Hell. Their brute-force method made closing the portal exceptionally tricky, since trying to affect the doorway itself simply opened up a new tear nearby.  They still call that the Year of the Demon Plague -- though scholars chafe at the name, as it was Devils, not Demons, who found egress into Tev.

“But the Maze was built for such things, in a time before you or me. I had to look deeper. In my infinite wisdom, I realized that the Maze could do more than simply force Gates open or seal them shut.  It can rebuild the _very fabric of space-time_, within a restricted region. In the end I fixed nothing.  No, what I did was burn away the weak strands of the cosmic weave, and build space-time anew where it was needed. Yes, a dozen more Devils moved through during that time when the hole gaped, but I was quick, and my genius allowed me to direct the energies of the Maze with great efficiency.  I _created,_ Aravis.  I built my own piece of the multiverse, stronger than it had been.  I focused the energy through my most trusted servants, and it did not go so well for them, but their sacrifice was freely given and absolutely necessary. When I was done, there _was_ no portal. There _was_ no hole between Abernia and the Nine Hells. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Aravis does his best to look impressed and grateful.

"I think I do your majesty.  However, please understand that next to your years of experience and wisdom, I am as but nothing. At the time of your troubles you had been a king for 19 years, and most certainly a scholar for longer. While that certainly seems the most permanent way of sealing rifts in the cosmic weave, it did allow some dem..er, excuse me, devils through.  The foe we face is terrible enough that all the Archmagi of our land are tied up in keeping him out. Further a very large area seems to be ripping apart. I don't know that I have the strength to rebuild that large an area, although I do have some thoughts on that.  So, I have to wonder if it might not be better to figure out a way of strengthening the fabric around the gate.  If that would hold even for only a short time, it might allow me to better prepare. What are your thoughts on that, your majesty?"

King Vhadish is clearly pleased that Aravis has recognized his great power and knowledge. He smiles indulgently.

"No doubt you will not have anywhere near the facility with the Maze as I did. I don't know the extent of the problem area in your kingdom, but here is an encouraging fact: the fabric between two Primes should be easier to rebuild than that which I had to create. A portal between a Prime and one of the Outer Planes poses its own difficulties, that you are indeed fortunate not to face.

"And your own idea has merit as well, young Aravis. If you spend some time and energy strengthening the surrounding space-time, it will make it easier should you choose to build your own section. An apt analogy would be thus: if you intend to knock out a pane of glass from a window and install a new pane of your own making, it will be easier for you if you also make sure the window frame does not suffer from rot.

"I do not doubt that it will be a mighty task for one as young and inexperienced as you. You will need staunch allies through whom you will focus the energy of the Maze. Hold fast, maintain your concentration, and you can succeed. If you wish, I can even offer you a demonstration of some mental techniques that served me well."

"I think I understand, your majesty,” answers Aravis.  “A demonstration would be wonderful.  I would be foolish not to accept such a gracious offer of your time.  Before I forget, I assume, but do not know for sure, that the focusing of energy needed in this must be freely allowed.  Is that correct to the best of your knowledge?"

Vhadish replies.  "That is correct, young wizard. It is the great weakness of the Crosser's Maze, but also a necessary balance. Were it not for that inherent restriction a Keeper could destroy the universe, were that his aim. Understand that this limit is literally as you assert. The life energy must be _freely_ given. If a being is coerced by threat of force against self or loved-ones, or _dominated,_ _charmed,_ or otherwise controlled, the energy will not be properly focused. It will wreck the mind of the Keeper should he, or she, try such a thing. If you wish to see first hand an example of such, visit the succubus Kel-Shai who now resides in the para-elemental plane of Electricity. She sought to extort life energy from beings in return for their stolen souls, and when she tried to use that energy, she... burned away all ambition, all motivation to act, from her mind. She has become an automaton, immortal and useless.

"Now, although I have many projects I wish not to delay, I will take some time to teach you proper focusing techniques, as well as certain mental tricks and procedures useful for directing Maze energy. And what do _you_ offer in return for my services?"

Aravis is silent for a moment, taken aback by the request.  Vhadish watches him with a curious expression, almost as an owner might watch a pet struggling with a new impediment to its food.  Eventually Aravis answers.

“Your majesty, I could not begin to imagine what it is that I could offer you that you would consider of value. However, I can at least offer you my services for a task or tasks that we would mutually agree was of equal value to the information you have to give me.

“Obviously I can not speak for my friends, but I am very sure that they would provide support and assistance to me in accomplishing that which you desire from me, assuming it is something that they can assist with.  I must make my offer conditional upon two things though. I cannot agree to anything that would obviously run counter to the interests of my king and country.  And I must first have time to accomplish my current goal for which I seek this information."

Vhadish XXIII looks at Aravis intently, giving the unsettling impression that he's measuring the young wizard somehow, both for honesty and utility. After a few seconds of this he smiles expansively. 

"Agreed!" he says. "As for your friends, they are no matter to me, though if you feel they can assist you, then by all means enlist their aid.  That will mean drawing them into the Maze, which is risky. But I see you are no stranger to risk.

"There are many tasks for which some assistance would be useful; I will ponder which of these to set for you. When your current trials are over, and if you still live with your sanity intact, I will contact you and hold you to your promise. And now, since time is precious to us both, allow me to demonstrate the focusing technique I call "burning feather" which I invented in the year 523 is response to..."

And King Vhadish begins to instruct.


…to be continued…


----------



## Fade

This is great!


----------



## Piratecat

Oh, man! Bad Aravis. You added something else to The List.  It was long enough already.


----------



## Nail

The Maze continues to amaze......good job, mr. twirly mustache.

I wonder...how much of Aravis' travels are done with other players present "at the table"?


----------



## Sagiro

Nail said:
			
		

> *...I wonder...how much of Aravis' travels are done with other players present "at the table"? *



Although I often do smaller-scale Maze-related activities over the table, all of Aravis' questing in the last two installments were done over extensive back-and-forth e-mails.

-Sagiro


----------



## Ancalagon

Nice work!

Ah, e-mails, what would DM do without it!

I get the feeling that this king, if he so chooses, has the power to force aravis to keep his promise.

It seems to me that the Maze is the ultimate's wizard's "toy".  I wonder if Parthol (well, P) is going to try to get his hands on it...

Ancalagon


----------



## KidCthulhu

Well, seeing as we went looking for the Maze because Lapis was instructed to find it by the then mysterious "P", I'd say, yes, he does want to get his hands on it. 

We don't know that he knows what it does.  Only that he felt it would make a big difference to Team Badguy, which was enough for us to want to get there first.


----------



## Dawn

<At this point there is a glitch. Some creatures are waiting to jump through that window and out through Aravis into the real world. There’s nothing he can do to stop them, but he figures that Pewter will warn his friends to beware.>

Is this how the Null Shadows were brought into the world?  Could someone have selectively brought them out?

Just finished catching up after a long time away.  I am still in awe at the forethought that went into the planning of this campaign.  Did you know in the beginning that the Maze would be of such great importance or did it just evolve as plot thickened?


----------



## KidCthulhu

Nah, we know where Null Shadows come from.  They're the result of magical torture, not extraplanar.

And Sagiro, put down the Extended Play LoTR DVD and post already.  I wanna get to the good stuff!


----------



## Plane Sailing

That's right!

I want to see One Certain Step find his long-lost niche 

Cheers


----------



## Sagiro

Dawn said:
			
		

> *Just finished catching up after a long time away.  I am still in awe at the forethought that went into the planning of this campaign.  Did you know in the beginning that the Maze would be of such great importance or did it just evolve as plot thickened? *



At the _very_ beginning, no.  But it was pretty early on that I had the idea of a Big Important Artifact(tm) that the party would quest long and hard to get, and which would be vital for stopping Naradawk.

Two confessions, though:

1. When I first included a reference to the "Crosser's Maze" in a letter the PC's found, I didn't know yet what it was.   The specifics gestated in my mind for a long time.   To repeat advice I know I've given before:  don't sweat the details until you have to.

2. I stole the idea from Piratecat.  Well, not the Maze specifically, but a "non-conventional artifact that was necessary to save the world, and which would require a long overland journey to find."  It worked so well for him, I ripped it off without shame.  

-Sagiro


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## Sagiro

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *Nah, we know where Null Shadows come from.  They're the result of magical torture, not extraplanar.
> 
> And Sagiro, put down the Extended Play LoTR DVD and post already.  I wanna get to the good stuff! *



Kid, I think you're confusing two of the Black Circle Horrors.  The magical torture was what they were doing to Califax, so that they could use him for the instant-resurrection of Grey Wolf had he died.

The Null Shadows were almost certainly coming from that icky cauldron, in a room that was partly in the Plane of Shadow.   A cauldron, I'll note, that is still there, albeit (to the best of anyone's knowledge) dormant.  Not that I'm trying to make anyone paranoid or anything.  

-Sagiro


----------



## Lord Pendragon

Great update, as usual!

I just wanted to add my admiration to the masses regarding the Maze.  For me, the trickiest part of artifacts is trying to make them impressive and awe-inspiring in a world of high magic, while at the same time keep them from overshadowing everything else in the game.  The Crosser's Maze is a perfect example of this.  It can literally re-weave the universe, and yet by having it, Aravis still doesn't overshadow the other members of the Company.

Well done!


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> Kid, I think you're confusing two of the Black Circle Horrors.
> 
> -Sagiro *




Can you blame me?  They were pretty darn, er, horrific.  

That doesn't negate my original request that you post already!  Don't try to distract me by pointing out my errors.  I'm wise to your wily ways.


----------



## Nail

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *The Null Shadows were almost certainly coming from that icky cauldron, in a room that was partly in the Plane of Shadow.   A cauldron, I'll note, that is still there, albeit (to the best of anyone's knowledge) dormant. *



This correction by Sagiro is so...unlike him..   KC, I'd be worried if I were you.  I see a future full of shadows.


----------



## Caliber

I need to bump this. A bit too far down the list, ya understand.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 160 *_

Weeks pass and the magic items pile up, while the Company works nervously, awaiting word either from Ozilinsh or from Verdshane.

Morningstar receives good news from Amber regarding Evenstar’s emissary to Bederen.   Her sisters (along with Snokas) were captured by Bederen patrols less than a week after their departure, and their message was passed swiftly along.  Not three weeks after they set out, a meeting had been held in Ava Dormo between Charagan commanders and members of the Bederen War Council.   A tentative agreement has already been reached wherein the Bederen forces will step up their offensive push while Charagan’s armies are relocated to Verdshane.   Charagan has agreed to some unnamed concessions to which Amber is not privy.   (Bederen, it seems, is a Spartan kingdom with little patience for cumbersome bureaucracy – a fact that allowed for swift negotiations and subsequent action.)

Also during this period, Kay receives a long handwritten summary of the battle to which she had committed the Yrimpa.  To her great relief it had gone almost exactly as General Largent had hoped and expected.  It was not a trap, the Smokehill Valley was wrested away from Delfiri control, and the Yrimpa’s surprise assault from the rear was crucial in the victory.  Four Yrimpa were slain in the fighting, but even Yaro Karenne agreed that these were acceptable losses in light of Largent’s agreement that the Yrimpa would be excluded from combat for several weeks.

After forty-one days, the number of finished magic items is astounding.  

Dranko, having finished enhancing his own _whip of the searing tongue_, made for Ernie a _winged shield_ that allows the halfling to _fly_ once per day.  After that, he improved the enchantment on his own buckler, and on Grey Wolf’s shield. 

Morningstar has finished work on a number of magical wands.   Two _wands of cure serious wounds_ were the highest priority, but with the help of some of the others, she has also made wands of _fly, reduce_ and _enlarge_.

Ernie has brewed almost two-score potions for the Company – _haste, fly, see invisibility, _and of course many healing potions.   Grey Wolf, collaborating with Morningstar, has scribed some scrolls with powerful divine spells (including _heal_ and _flame strike_).

Finally, Kibi has made a _vest/sash of transparency_ for both Dranko and Grey Wolf, as well as a _headband of intellect +2_ for himself.

There are more items in the list still unmade, but there is not the opportunity to make them.

Aravis has been journeying in the Maze for weeks now.  Pewter has assured the others than Aravis is still alive and well, though the cat doesn’t know specifically what his master is up to, or how much longer he intends to be away.  The familiar has kept Aravis’ body exercised and well-fed (though Eddings had to dissuade him from asking for “mouse stew” from the Icebox).

On the forty-first day since the Company settled in for craft projects, Pewter begins to cry loudly at Kay, who casts _speak with animals_.  

“I… we just got a _sending_ from somewhere,” Pewter tells her excitedly.  *“Stasis has fallen.   No confirmation that the Archmagi can keep the Gate closed, but we must assume the worst.   Please come to Verdshane immediately.”*

“Wake Aravis,” Kay says.  Pewter jumps up on his master’s shoulder and digs in his claws.   A few seconds later Aravis stirs and shakes his head.  The others look at him anxiously.

“I think I know what I must do,” he says groggily.  “Whether or not I’m strong enough to do it is another matter.”

As quickly as he can, Aravis tells the rest of the Company about his journey into the Crosser’s Maze, what he learned, and what he hopes to do.  “The next step is for me to go to Verdshane, and look at the Gate up close in the Maze.”

The Company erupts into a veritable storm of last-minute planning.  Magic items gets distributed, a _sending_ is sent off to Duke Nigel, and the clerics debate who gets to cast the mandatory _shield other_ on Aravis.  Skorg is even convinced to come along, despite his preference for being left behind with Eddings and the cats.  Some _reduce_ and _teleport_ spells later, the Company arrives in Verdshane and is escorted into the Shadow Chaser.  Minya, the friendly but feisty owner of the inn, spots them amid the chaos and hurries over.

“I heard a few of you were here some weeks back; so sorry I missed you.  Can you believe what they’ve done with the place?”

She smiles wryly and gestures at the commons, teeming with military types.

“Minya, may I have a word with you in private?” Morningstar motions to the kitchen.  It’s just as busy as everywhere else in the inn, but the two are ignored amidst the bustle.

“Here, take this.  It’s a healing potion.  Just in case you need it.”

Minya gratefully accepts the potion. 

Corporal Edridge approaches the Company, informs them that he will be their official liaison with the general and asks for a report. But when Ernie starts talking about Magic Gates and Aravis’ unique hope, and other guards start listening in, curious, the Company clams up and suggests that perhaps they should be talking with Anabrook directly.   

The general meets with them in a storeroom-turned-meeting-room and hears their report.  Aravis guesses that he has about an 85% chance of success in using the Maze to seal the Planar Gate, but warns that in doing so he may have to open the Gate wide open for a short time.  Aravis asks Anabrook to spread the word as widely as possible, that every soldier might feel the cold sensation of the Maze drawing upon their life energy.  They should willingly give that energy; the welfare of the kingdom could depend on it.  The general agrees to issue the suggestion, with no promises of how many soldiers will go through with it.

Ernie casts _divination_ to determine where the Company should be if/when an invasion begins, but receives no answer.

Aravis doesn’t want to waste any more time.  He retires to one of the rooms prepared for them in the 2nd floor of the Inn, while Ernie arranges for a heavy guard to be placed on the door.  Aravis sits cross-legged on the bed and drops into the Maze, focusing his attention on the Gate and the ragged space-time around it.  He sees straight away that it’s going to take everything he’s got.   He starts to give it.

Corporal Edridge walks outside with the rest of the Company, to give them a tour of the area, similar to the one Kibi, Ernie and Morningstar received some weeks earlier.  Two food wagons pull up by the Shadow Chaser and soldiers immediately start unloading.  The Company also watches as a teenaged boy runs up to a waiting guard, screws up his face, and recites a long list of random words from memory.  The guard has a scrap of parchment in hand, comparing the runner’s “report” to what’s written on the scrap.  Edridge explains.  

“We have dozens of trained runners that will be spread throughout the area.  They’ll provide the basic avenue of communication once the sh*t hits the fan.  If you have to send a report back to HQ, or anywhere else on the field, grab a runner and tell them your message.  They’ve been selected for sharp memories and fast legs.”

“We may have a better way,” Morningstar says.  “We have magic that can keep us in direct mental contact with a small number of people.  When the time comes, you should probably be one of them.”

Edridge blinks.  

“Right.  Er… yes.  Now, let’s go see how things are progressing at the Mud Zone.”  

En route to the swampy Ground Zero the Company passes a medical tent still being prepared.   Clerics of Delioch, God of Healing, are preparing cots, bandages and healing herbs.  Dranko recognizes one of them as Brother Nolman, a priest from Sand’s Edge.   (A couple of years earlier, in the week before the Ventifact Colossus rose from the Mouth of Nahalm, Nolman had flat-out refused to believe Dranko’s contention that a huge turtle was going to leave the desert and stomp across the city.)

“Greetings, brother,” says Dranko, grinning.   He knows that Nolman had hated the taste of crow, but the two of them had come to respect one another at subsequent meetings.

“Dranko!” returns Nolman.  “Good to see you here.  You and your friends.  I’m not surprised that you’re right where the worst trouble is brewing.”

He lowers his voice and his smile fades.

“They’ve told us to be ready for many casualties.   Do you really think they’ll be war?  That an army is just going to appear by magic?”

“I’m afraid so,” says Dranko.  “But I know you’ll do right by Delioch when the time comes.”

Nolman smiles again.  “No turtles this time?”

“No turtles.”

The air over the Mud Zone has a strange chill, out of place for late summer, and there is a faint rumble of thunder.  Sporadic flashing lights like orange-white heat lightning flicker across the sky.   Around the long perimeter are dozens of platforms built into the trees, each with a store of arrows.  The low walls and redoubts have multiplied tenfold since some of the Company visited weeks earlier.   Kibi notes with satisfaction that many of the new stone towers are of dwarvish construction.

On the way back to the Shadow Chaser, threading their way through camps of soldiers, the Company is stopped by someone shouting from a nearby clearing.

“Hey, look.   Those guys are the Turtle Slayers!  That little guy, he flew this magic flying carpet around that huge turtle that attacked Sand’s Edge.  I saw it myself!  The rest of ‘em, they fought those damned Watchers who were mind-controlled by the turtle.  They and the Stormknights, they killed the biggest damn creature in the world.  Them guys are heroes!  Hey!  Turtle Slayers!”

A soldier is waving at the Company, and the others around him start cheering and waving as well.  Ah, the adulation of the masses.

* *

The Company returns to the Shadow Chaser to find a briefing about to begin at the far end of the commons.  Anabrook is standing up in front, talking quietly to an aide, while before her sits a group of nine people sitting in chairs.  Most have the look of hardened adventurers. 

Two of the newcomers stand immediately when the Company arrives.   They are one man and one woman, armed and armored and exceedingly graceful.  They approach the party, their expressions neutral.

“We are going up to collect your friend Aravis,” says the woman.  “One of you should accompany us, so that he is not taken by surprise.”

Somewhat surprised himself, Ernie goes up with the two and almost knocks on Aravis’ door.  He thinks better of it for a moment and casts _detect evil_ on the two fighters.  Negative.  Satisfied, Ernie knocks, and inside Pewter hears the sound and claws Aravis’ shoulder, bringing the wizard back to the here and now.  The first thing Aravis sees is a pair of fighters drawing their weapons, and he instinctively shrinks back.  But the man says, 

“Aravis, my name is Attrius, and you are our charge.  This is Portia.  By life or death we will protect you.  Please come with us down to the briefing.”

Portia moves silently to stand by Aravis’ side, and Attrius moves into the hallway.  They bracket the wizard as they march down the stairs.  Neither has so much as raised an eyebrow at Aravis’ strange appearance.   Ernie follows them.

In the commons, General Anabrook looks over the assembled heroes, counting silently.

“There is one more,” she says.  “He should be arriving momentarily, and then we will begin.”

Indeed, less than a minute later the door to the Shadow Chaser opens and a pudgy, balding man is admitted into the room. 

“Ah, Fulton, you are here at last.” Anabrook says.  “Good!  Now we may begin.”

Dranko knows he has heard that name before.  But where… where…?  Ah!  Yes.  In Sand’s Edge, there are those two wizards who had taken advantage of the devastation’s aftermath to gain political power.  They only had met the woman, Imperia, but the other one’s name was Fulton, and the description matches.  Dranko calls over to him.

“Hey, you’re the guy running that scam in Sand’s Edge!”

Fulton looks discomfited and obviously guilty.

“I’m sure I d…don’t know what you’re t…talking about,” he stammers.

Dranko grins.  “We’ll talk later.”

Anabrook clears her throat.

“Some introductions would be in order first, I think.”

She motions toward a group of four, sitting together at a table, a comfortable bunchp who had been laughing and talking quietly.   A tall, rugged man stands up and addresses the others.

“We are an adventuring group founded some years back.   Though I don’t claim any spiritual gifts, I formed our group in the service of my Goddess, Corilayna.  We are called ‘Fortune’s Children.’  My name is Royce, and I am a fighting man.”

He gestures to a small, lithe woman sitting beside him.

“This is Sparrow, who has many useful skills, particularly where stealth is needed.”

Next over is a tall, skinny, shock-haired man in a green robe, showing the device of a die balanced on one corner.

“That is Brassel, a Cleric in the service of Corilayna.”

Finally he nods to a middle-aged woman with straight steel-gray hair and a steady expression.

“And this is Bettany, a wizard of no small ability.”

The Company is next in order as all are seated, and before anyone can stop him, Flicker stands up and announces proudly:  “We are the Heroes of the Kalkas Peaks!”  When the others roll their eyes, he sits back down, muttering.  “Well, we _are_…”

One by one, the members of the Company introduce themselves to the assemblage, briefly outlining their professional strengths.  When Kibi’s turn comes up and he declares himself a wizard, a bespectacled boy of no more than thirteen years stands up and interrupts.  

“A dwarven wizard?  Such a thing should not be possible!  It is the essence of dwarven nature that they cannot cast arcane magics.”

Kibi looks indignant.

“I am absolutely a wizard,” he huffs.  “I have been casting spells for many years now with no difficulty.  This is my Familiar, Scree.  He is an earth elemental.”

Scree forms up around Kibi’s feet, rocks grinding together noisily.

“Oh, I believe you,” says the boy.  “It’s just… fascinating, that’s all.  Absolutely fascinating.”

“Hmph.  I’m glad you think so,” grumps Kibi.

The boy introduces himself as Wellington, a wizard.  A tarantula crawls from his robes onto his shoulder.

“This is _my_ Familiar,” he says.  

“What’s his name?” Royce asks.

Wellington turns red, and under his breath mutters, “His name is Crawly.”

Sparrow can’t help but snicker.

“I named him when I was very young,” the boy explains haughtily, but this just draws even more laughter.

Next to the boy, a beautiful woman with flowing brown hair stands up.  She puts a hand on Wellington’s shoulder, and the laughter stops abruptly.   In her other hand is a long-handled scythe.

“I am Glade,” she says.  “A Paladin in the service of Pikon.  And since Wellington is likely the smartest person any of you will ever meet, I suggest that you treat him with a bit more respect.”

“Smart?” mumbles Kibi under his breath.  “Might have known dwarves could be wizards, then…”

Fulton stands up, looking extremely uncomfortable and out of place.  “I… I’m F…Fulton,” he stammers.  “I’m a w…wizard.”  And he sits down.

Finally a portly man in Pikonish robes stands up.  The Company has met him at previous meetings of the Spire.

“I am Matthias,” he announces in a deep voice.  “I am the High Priest of Pikon in our Kingdom, and I am here with a hundred knights at my command.  We are honored to serve in this dark hour.”

He bows to the others and sits back down.

General Anabrook moves to stand again in front of the assemblage.

“You represent the finest combatants that Charagan can muster at this time.  There has still been no word about Cencerra and her group’s investigation of the Gartine Arch in Karth.  Divinations indicate that they’re still alive, but we cannot reach them – not even with _sending_ spells.   As for Jerzembeck and Junaya and their group, we’ve made the decision that they should stay on the Peninsula to help counter any offensive the Delfiri might launch while our manpower is compromised.   

“With two exceptions, I’m not going to assign any of you to a particular duty.   We expect an invasion of unknown size and likely unknown location, save that it will be in this general area.  I feel that you will best serve us as free ranging strike teams that can get to hot spots as they appear.  We have over a hundred trained runners who you’ll meet outside in a few minutes; their job is to help keep you as informed as possible about changing battlefield conditions, should they arrive.  We may send them with specific orders in dire circumstances, but as a default behavior, you’ll be on your own, and the runners will simply serve as conduits for tactical and strategic intelligence.

“Now, what I’m about to say is not to leave this room.  This is Aravis Telmir, and he is our best hope for avoiding a bloody mess altogether.  If he succeeds, there will be no invading army, and we can all go back to the chore of getting those damned Delfiri out of our Kingdom.  But we are acting under the assumption that he will _not_ succeed.  None of the rank and file know of this chance we have, and they’re not _going_ to know until it happens or it doesn’t.  In the meantime, Attrius and Portia are being assigned as bodyguards to Aravis.   They are experts at this sort of thing, and once this briefing is over, they will not leave Aravis’ side.   Is that understood?”

There is no misunderstanding.

…to be continued…


----------



## Citizen Mane

Whoa.


----------



## RangerWickett

What the lion said.


----------



## wolff96

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *The first thing Aravis sees is a pair of fighters drawing their weapons, and he instinctively shrinks back.  But the man says,
> 
> “Aravis, my name is Attrius, and you are our charge.  This is Portia.  By life or death we will protect you.”
> 
> Portia moves silently to stand by Aravis’ side, and Attrius moves into the hallway.  They bracket the wizard as they march down the stairs.*




Do I smell a pair of Devoted Defenders?

Amazing, Sagiro...  You really took the time to crank the intensity to 11, didn't you?  It's really cool to see all the preperations made by the kingdom for this invasion -- it makes the world alive.


----------



## Galfridus

Yeah, this is really impressive...actually, I was put in mind of some of the larger battle scenes from the Black Company series. Nice.

I'm curious (and perhaps it will be clear soon) how much "front stage" time all these NPCs will receive, and how much is just background...


----------



## Quartermoon

I absolutely love the way this is not just the Company's game...it is the world, with other adventurers just as powerful being called up and given the same orders as 'our heroes.'

Such richness is really wonderful, Sagiro.


----------



## Dawn

Have to agree with Quartermoon.  It is nice to see other adventuring groups brought in.  Let's the players know that it really is a large world out there and others are effecting it also.


----------



## Nail

Dawn said:
			
		

> * It is nice to see other adventuring groups brought in.  Let's the players know that it really is a large world out there and others are effecting it also. *



...Besides (let's be honest here), they _need_ th' help.


----------



## Piratecat

Ohhhh, yes. We sure did.  You have no freakin' idea.

Read on, and discover how bad tactics on Dranko's part come back to bite him! And bite him. And bite him. And bite his friends. And bite his allies.

If area effect spells have teeth, that is.

Sagiro, great update!


----------



## KidCthulhu

> Corporal Edridge approaches the Company, informs them that he will be their official liaison with the general and asks for a report. But when Ernie starts talking about Magic Gates and Aravis’ unique hope, and other guards start listening in, curious, the Company clams up and suggests that perhaps they should be talking with Anabrook directly.




What this dry description doesn't convey is the scorn and group forehead slapping behind this little exchange.  We're trying our best to be polite to this little flunky, but we know he can't handle the stuff we're carrying.  And after all his official bustle, he passes us on to the guy we knew we'd need to talk to all along, you could hear a chorus of "Duh!" run around the table.

We were in no mood to dally with flunkies.


----------



## Fade

...and the Company were keeping the information from the guards because they didn't need to know and the information would be too much for them.

Nice to come full circle isn't it?


----------



## Creeperman

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *What this dry description doesn't convey is the scorn and group forehead slapping behind this little exchange.  We're trying our best to be polite to this little flunky, but we know he can't handle the stuff we're carrying.  And after all his official bustle, he passes us on to the guy we knew we'd need to talk to all along, you could hear a chorus of "Duh!" run around the table.
> 
> We were in no mood to dally with flunkies. *



"You want the truth?  YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"


----------



## Duncan Haldane

Good update.

You know, that scene with everyone introducing themselves seemed like an AA meeting - Adventurers Anonymous.

"Hi.  My name is Dranko, and I'm an adventurer.  It's been 41 days since my last combat.  Oh, and I like to lick things."



Duncan


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 161*_

General Anabrook looks over the assembled adventurers of Charagan and smiles, even as ominous thunder continues to roll in the distance.

“Ladies, gentlemen, I leave it to you to deploy yourselves effectively.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to return to my staff.”

Much discussion follows as the heroes make plans.  It is decided that they will form into five groups, four of which will generally patrol quadrants of the battlefield.  The Company will patrol the south-west quadrant; Fortune’s Children the north-east; Glade, Wellington and Fulton the south-east; and Matthias (with his knights) the north-west.  Kay has been joined by five Yrimpa who have traveled with great haste from the Balani; the seven of them (counting Oa Lyanna) will serve as a free-ranging sky patrol looking out for airborne threats.  They are also tasked with checking in periodically on the triangular “control room” building by which the monster-boxes over Kinnet Gorge could conceivably be opened.  Each of the groups has one Designated _sending_ Recipient, and they also plan to be linked together via a _Rary’s Telepathic Bond_.  

Once the inter-party coordination is worked out and the groups start talking among themselves, Dranko walks over to the nervously-fidgeting wizard Fulton, puts an arm around his shoulders, and leads him over towards the wall.

“Fulton my boy,” says Dranko, “Your associate Imperia extorted a _lot_ of money from us earlier this year.  I’ve written a full report to the proper authorities that gets delivered if I die.  If both you and I survive the next few days, my friend, perhaps we’ll need to have a serious chat about your… governing methods.  Eh?”

Fulton looks horrified.

“Uh… uh… D… Dranko, I… I’m not r…really sure what Im…Imperia is doing.  I j… just do what she t…tells me to do.  I kn…know things have gotten out of h…hand, and I’m s…sorry.  I’d actually be g…glad if you could d…do something ab…about her.”

“Oh, I think we can manage that,” Dranko smiles.  “When all this is done, we’ll go back Sand’s Edge and all deal with her together, how ‘bout?”

Those of the Company who overhear groan at the thought.  They hate Sand’s Edge almost as much as Dranko hates Verdshane.

Fulton nods, still looking discomfited.

“You still look nervous,” Dranko remarks.  “Why is that?”

“Er…er, um…” says Fulton, turning a bit red, “It’s j…just that I’ve never k…k…killed anyone before with my s…spells.   I d…don’t know that I c…can do it when I h…have to.”

Dranko manages not to show his surprise. 

“Well, you can always cast support spells, you know.  Wizards can be damned useful even without killing people.”

“I d…do have w…wall spells prepared, to help p…protect our s…soldiers,” says Fulton.  “And j…just in c…case, I have a ch…ch…chain lightning r…ready.”

Well, _that’s_ good to know.

There are only a few loose odds and ends left before the Company goes to sleep.  They track down Captain Madoc and given him two of their magic items for distribution elsewhere – Dranko’s magical mace that summons a short-lived small fire elemental, and Morningstar’s seldom-used _javelin of returning_.    Aravis (protected by his new bodyguards) goes out to a sheltered forest glade near to the Company’s assigned corner of the Mud Zone, and places a _Leomund’s Secure Shelter_ that will last well into the next day.

Aravis had spent the morning immersed in the Maze, slowly and steadily building up the strength of the space-time around the Gate area, which he intends to tear apart and rebuild entirely.   He expects to execute that final and critical stage of his plan the next day in the early afternoon, which (judging by the time difference noted by Kibi and Grey Wolf when they unexpectedly visited Volpos) should be early morning in the enemy camp.

The rest of the Company casts a few 24-hour buffing spells before retiring to their rooms in the Shadow Chaser.  Then, tired from both the day’s events and the steady trickle of life-energy donated to Aravis, they enjoy a final night’s rest before the day of reckoning.   Steady unnatural thunder booms to the north and eerie distant lightning flashes through their windows as they fall asleep.

*Saturday, September 10*

*BOOM!*

All of the Company are awakened instantly.  In Aravis’ room, Attrius moves to the window and looks out while Portia stands between the wizard and the door.  Bright lights are flashing outside in the dark.  From the north, from the direction of the Gate, is a brief, quick shout, as of thousands of voices bellowing. It lasts less than a second.

Kibi leaps to his feet and sees that it’s still dark.  He is dismayed to realize that his mind is not yet refreshed enough to prepare a new day’s worth of spells.  A minute later the Company has gathered in Aravis’ room.  A minute after that there is another tremendous *BOOM!* from the north, another flash of white-orange light, and another abbreviated shout.  Other noises can be heard outside as Charagan forces scramble, but it still doesn’t sound like the enemy army has arrived.

Aravis drops into the Maze.  

Something is different.  An unknown force is pounding on the Planar Gate from… somewhere?  It’s some new threat he hasn’t seen before, and even close scrutiny with the Maze doesn’t yield up information about its source.  But with each magical blow to the Gate, its effectiveness dwindles.  It is only minutes away from breaking unless he does something…

The rest of the Company feel an eager tug at their souls.  They give up more of their own living essence, and Aravis uses that life-force to shore up the Gate directly.  It’s neither an efficient nor permanent solution, but after a few moments Aravis is satisfied that he’s bought the kingdom about two more hours.   He leaves the Maze and tells the rest of the party to grab another couple hours’ sleep if they can.

Somehow, they do.

At about six o’clock in the morning the Company rises again.  The pale morning light of sunrise filters through the trees outside the inn, and they can see soldiers moving about hurriedly, making final preparations for the impending war.  The Company arms and starts casting more short-term preparatory spells. 

They are almost ready when another *BOOM!*, louder than the ones that went before it, rolls through the forest.  Lights like flashing suns flood outward from the Mud Zone, and a thousand Charagan soldiers flinch away for a moment.  There is another multitudinous shout, that does not abate.   And from the north, the sounds of battle can be heard.

“_Fly_ spells for everyone,” says Grey Wolf.  He squeezes off ten inaugural charges from their newly made _wand of fly_.

“Is everyone ready?” asks Dranko.  “We should… er…”

He stops, looking at Morningstar, who has a strange expression on her face.

They all look at her.

“I just received a _sending_,” she says, her voice quivering with anticipation, excitement and fear.  “From Amber.  She says: * Morningstar, assault beginning Ava Dormo Oasis.  Enemy forces bombarding stone tower in Dream.  Bright lights.  Mustering all Dreamwalkers for defense.  Come quickly!”*

…to be continued…


----------



## coyote6

Attack from quarters unknown? Assault on a second front?

I believe the operative phrase is, "Uh-oh."

So, uh, when's the next update?


----------



## Fade

I think the Company should have got used to that by now


----------



## KidCthulhu

Nah.  You see.  That's the really EVIL thing about Sagiro.  Even when we're ready for it, he still finds new ways to make us suffer.  He's a mad genius, really.


----------



## Fade

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *He's a mad genius, really. *




Is there any other kind?


----------



## Dawn

Looky what I found back here on page 2.

Let's move this back to the front where it belongs.......


----------



## KidCthulhu

Well, to while away the time, I can give you a little sample of Ernie's little poem about the Battle of Verdshane. (with many thanks to the late Dr. Seuss)

Emperor at the Door
By Dr. Ernie

Do you like the Emperor?

         We do not like the Emperor.

         We do not like that Naradoc.
         We would not like him on our block.

         We do not like the Emperor.
         We do not  want him at our door.

Would you like him in Verdshane?
Would you like him in the rain?

        We do not want him in Verdshane,
        not even in the pouring rain.

        We do not like that Naradoc.
        We would not like him on our block.

How about in Circle Black?
Come stab ‘ole Grey Wolf in the back!

        Not Circle Black.
        Not in the back.  
        Not in Vershane.
        Not in the rain.

        We do not like that Naradoc.
        We would not like him on our block.

[to be continued...]


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 162*_

Oasis.  Once the home of the now-defunct Order of Preservation.  Later home to a group of Sharshun styling themselves the Oasis Mages Guild, though for centuries it has been illegal to organize _any_ mages' guild within city limits.  And in its Ava Dormo reflection, there is a tower without doors or windows, with which the Dreamwalkers were warned not to meddle.  

It seems someone is meddling with it now.

Less than a minute later, all of Company are flying at top speed through a light drizzle toward their assigned corner of the Mud Zone.  Corporal Edridge has been included in a _Rary’s Telepathic Bond_ from Morningstar, along with Dranko and Pewter.  

As they skim over the trees the sounds of battle ring out from below.  Here and there through the canopy they catch glimpses of soldiers, some on the move, others engaged in small skirmishes.  As feared, at least some of the invaders have appeared in the forest outside the Mud Zone.  

The area by the _Secure Shelter_ is still clear, and Aravis spots the roof through a gap in the trees.  He flies down with Attrius and Portia.  Morningstar and Skorg follow.  While the rest keep flying, those five enter the _Shelter_ and lock the door behind them.  Aravis sits on one of the bunks and immediately drops into the Crosser’s Maze, while Morningstar sits opposite and wills herself into Ava Dormo.

Skorg has been loaded down with freshly-brewed healing potions, ready to administer them if Morningstar’s body becomes injured.  

Attrius and Portia look at Skorg.

Skorg looks at the two bodyguards.  

All three look down at their charges, whose minds have departed for parts unknown.

“You get used to it,” Skorg shrugs.

* *

The Company flies on over the trees, looking for signs of trouble in their part of the woods.   As they near the edge of the Mud Zone they see that things there are going well, everything considered.  Hundreds upon hundreds of enemy troops have arrived in or near the center of the Mud Zone, and are slogging through the mud as well as they can toward the perimeter.  As the enemy gets within range, hundreds of Charagan archers are launching withering volleys of arrow fire into the soup.   It is hard to count the dead from their vantage point, since the Mud Zone itself is over half a mile on a side, but it’s clear that there’s not much they need to do to help that situation at the moment.   Still, some of the invaders who arrived closer to the perimeter have reached the tree-wall and are starting to fight their way into the forest.  And from all through the trees comes the clamor of battle, joined where the enemy has arrived outside the Zone.

From somewhere far to the north comes the sound of many wolves howling in unison.

There is another bright flash of orange light, another tumult of thunder, and more enemy troops appear in the Mud Zone and elsewhere.

As they swoop out over the trees in their quadrant, a few of the Company spot an especially thick knot of fighting in a partial clearing.  Kingdom soldiers are shouting and running through the woods, converging on the battle.  The Company flies down and sees a grim sight.  About fifteen ogre-sized humanoids with gray skin and sharp claws are tearing through groups of disorganized Kingdom soldiery.  

The Company descends and attacks.  Grey Wolf begins by casting _mount_, a spell which only last night Step had learned existed.

(Step: “You mean I could have had a magical horse in every battle we’ve fought?  And you never told me?)

(Grey Wolf:  “Er…”)

And then the Company tears into them.  The ogrish creatures are more powerful by far than the rank-and-file Charagan footman, but they have no obvious recourse against (for instance) flying spell-casters.   Ernie spots a large group of the monsters in one general location without friendly units nearby, and (fingers crossed) reads _blade barrier_ from a scroll.  (He still remembers what happened the last time he tried to use an scroll to cast divine magic beyond his means (when a _heal_ spell fizzled at a bad time during the fight with Mokad).  But he gets through the words, and a disk of knee-high spinning blades starts slicing the ogre-beings to ribbons.  

Adding insult to injury in fine fashion, Kibi follows up by casting _confusion_ on most of the enemy within the _blade barrier_.   Several of them stand around stupidly, not understanding that their lack of action is a ticket to swift bladed death.

Still, not all of them are caught in this trap, and if nothing else they are extraordinarily tough.   Many continue to fight, and more kingdom forces fall to their claws.   Then Step comes galloping in through the trees, executes a devastating ride-by attack that all but cuts one of the ogroids in half, and veers safely away before turning for another pass.  Several members of the Company who have never seen Step attack on horseback are agog.  

“Mental note to self,” mutters Grey Wolf.  _Always_ have a magical horse for that man.”

Although a few of the Company take wounds at the hands of the foul monsters, the airborne fighters and spell-casters combined with Step’s ferocious mounted assault make relatively quick work of the enemies who survived the _blade barrier_ – _confusion_ combination.  

Even as the last foe falls, Dranko’s expression is pensive.  It’s not because the battle still rages all around Verdshane, or at the sight of the allied soldiers who fell at the hands of these beasts.  It has more to do with the ongoing connection he has with Morningstar over the _Rary’s Telepathic Bond._

* *

Morningstar, seated comfortably, falls asleep at once.  She casts her mind into Ava Dormo, intending to appear about fifty yards distant from the lonely tower near Oasis.  Being a highly skilled Dreamwalker she appears right where she expects.   What she sees – well, that is less expected.

Over a hundred feet away is a tower of gray rock, tall and slender and impervious.  And forming the third point of an equilateral triangle with Morningstar and the tower is the enemy.

The enemy in this case is a large square formation of over a hundred black-armored soldiers, their spears bristling through a set wall of tower shields.  The entire area of space around them is lit up as if by powerful floodlights, though there are no light sources to be seen.  Over the top of the shields, Morningstar can see that a strange device like a large ballista made of dark green metal squats in the center of the square.   Even as she begins to _fly_ upward to get a better view, a blast of bright greenish light blasts from a cannon-like barrel on the ballista-device.  It streaks toward the stone tower but misses high by about fifteen feet.  

A hundred feet on the other side of the tower, Ellish soldiers are appearing by ones and twos; already there are several dozen, squinting into the bright light, but undeterred.  Some are hastily conferring while others form a shield wall of their own.  Morningstar soon sees why.  A hail of arrows comes arcing from inside the enemy formation, slamming down around the Ellish Dreamwalkers.  

As Morningstar flies higher, she sees that there are dozens of archers inside the square, forming an even tighter cordon around the ballista.  And standing next to the blasting machine is a tall figure in blood-red plate.  Morningstar doesn’t need to see the helmeted face to recognize her old adversary: Octesian, who years ago was squeezed through the planar boundary along with Meledien and the late Restimar.  She swears vehemently.  Back when they first met, Octesian had already learned to deal damage in Ava Dormo that caused wounds in the waking world.  So while she and her Ellish forces can only knock people out of the Dreaming by overcoming them in combat, Octesian can actually kill.

“This should give them something to think about,” Morningstar says to herself. 

She casts _blade barrier_ at knee height, centered on the metal ballista.

There is understandable chaos within the ranks of the enemies, as the black-armored soldiers scramble to escape the circle of whirling blades.  Some of the archers are sliced apart, and some of those who are able to move quickly out of the spell area are badly wounded.  But many escape unscathed, including Octesian.  They form up in a new perimeter, just beyond the edge of the blades, and resume guarding the ballista.   They show no sign of moving to attack the amassing Ellish forces. 

The magical device fires again, and this time the bolt of green light smashes into the tower with a sound like thunder.  A sickly glow plays around the stones for a moment before it fades.

Morningstar moves with the speed of thought to join her assembling sisters, who now number well over a hundred.  As she does, she thinks to Dranko over the _telepathic bond_:  “Did anything just happen out there in the battle?”

“Yeah,” Dranko answers.  “There was just another big blast of thunder with some flashing lights, and a new boatload of enemy soldiers appeared.”

Morningstar moves to join Amber, June, Swan, Previa and others who are arguing about the best course of action.  Quickly she sets them straight.  

“Every time that cannon strikes the tower, more of Naradawk’s soldiers arrive in Verdshane.  We have to press the attack, and find a way to destroy that ballista.  Beware of Octesian, the one in the red armor.  His sword blows can kill your waking body.”

Their battle plan is made quickly.  Most of the Ellish sisters move forward in formation, spreading out to engage the enemy, hoping to press them back into the _blade barrier_.  Evenstar and her older priestesses form up from a distance, and through sheer concentration begin to remove enemy shields and weapons from Ava Dormo.  The reconstituted enemy shield wall starts to flicker strangely as some of the shields vanish.  But Octesian’s soldiers are also proficient Dreamers, and the shields blink back into existence as quickly as they are removed.   It’s a strange sight: enemy weapons and shields flashing on and off as if in strobe.   

Morningstar focuses her mental energies on the ballista itself; she knows that she can affect objects in Ava Dormo, creating, destroying, reshaping.  But the device withstands her best attempts at a direct mental assault.  It fires again, and another shaft of green energy slams into the tower.

“There goes another one, huh?”  Dranko’s voice sounds in her head.   Morningstar curses again.

She changes tactics.  Instead of concentrating on the ballista itself, she focuses her thought on the ground beneath it.  The earth starts to ripple and fold.  The device sinks a bit and then tilts, canted to one side.  It fires again, and its energy bolt misses by a good hundred feet.   Quickly she lands near some of her soldiers and spreads the word, instructing some to concentrate on warping the ground underneath the enemy weapon, and others to continue pressing the attack.   Then she moves forward to join the melee.  Behind the sounds of battle is the incessant clanking of magical blades whooshing through the air and clanking harmlessly off the metal ballista.

Octesian has easily fought his way through a knot of Ellish soldiers; Morningstar takes a deep breath and flies down to attack.  They exchange blows, and Morningstar gets the worst of it, slashed by Octesian’s glowing black longsword.  She falls back to be healed by one of her sisters.  

Back in the _Secure Shelter_, Skorg sees wounds open up on Morningstar’s body, and quickly feeds her a healing potion.   

To the north, the Company has just finished off the humanoid soldiers.  Kibi flies above the trees again to check in on the Mud Zone.  Even from a great distance he sees a strange new thing: a large block-shaped object like a huge siege engine, set upon huge stone cylinders like a great steamroller.  Stone arms protrude from its sides.  Whatever it is looks extremely dangerous – or at least it would be, were it not sunk several feet into the mud.  Kibi flies a bit closer, until he can see that dozens of enemy soldiers are enduring arrow fire as they attempt to move the siege engine. 

He is happy to see that it’s not budging.

Soon after a runner comes sprinting through the trees.  After taking a few seconds to catch his breath, he gives his report to the Company.  “There are two strange wolf-pack creatures, one to the north-east, and one to the south.  Fortune’s Children are in the area near the northern one, but they are already in bad shape.  A red-armored warrior has been spotted to the northwest of the Mud Zone, near to where Matthias and his troops are.   Hundreds of foot soldiers have appeared in isolated pockets outside the Mud Zone altogether.  Inside the Mud Zone we still command the field.  Have you received and understood this report?”

The Company is left to ponder what to do next.  Some want to go help Fortune’s Children, and others itch to confront the red-armored enemy (whom they assume must be the hated Meledien).  But Dranko turns to the others.  “I think Morningstar’s going to need help.  Her troops are fighting Octesian, and its him that’s causing troops to appear.  I’ll explain as we fly.  Quick… back the Shelter!”  That ends the debate.  The rest of the Company begins to fly.


…to be continued…


----------



## rigur

*Monday morning*

As always great. Nice to find this waiting for you when you come to work. Keep the good work up.

PS. Have a nice Christmas! DS.


----------



## Plane Sailing

Great story, Sagiro! I'm especially pleased to see OneCertainStep's moment of glory since I was able to moonlight as him and swing a big sword 

What Sagiro doesn't capture here is the wonderful rendition of gormless, confused ogreish creatures having bits sliced off them by the blade barrier, which was absolutely priceless!

As you might guess, the tension around the table was palpable... there was a real sense of desperation in the defence against Naradawks forces... who will prevail?


----------



## Bill Muench

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> 
> (Step: “You mean I could have had a magical horse in every battle we’ve fought?  And you never told me?)
> 
> (Grey Wolf:  “Er…”)
> *




LOL... That's priceless. Keep up the good work, Sagiro!


----------



## thatdarncat

Is this some kind of conspiracy? Will you and pkitty ever post updates at the same time?


----------



## Carnifex

Excellent stuff! It's really got me on the edge of my seat now - update, please!


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Would this



> But Dranko turns to the others. “I think Morningstar’s going to need help. Her troops are fighting Octesian, and its him that’s causing troops to appear. I’ll explain as we fly. Quick… back the Shelter!” That ends the debate. The rest of the Company begins to fly.




have anything to do with this



			
				Piratecat said:
			
		

> *Read on, and discover how bad tactics on Dranko's part come back to bite him! And bite him. And bite him. And bite his friends. And bite his allies.
> 
> If area effect spells have teeth, that is.
> 
> Sagiro, great update! *


----------



## Piratecat

Oh, no, it's so very much worse than that. There's a very good possibility that a bad decision on my part resulted in the death of -- 

But that would be telling.  Hey, no one else blames Dranko. You have to make combat decisions on the fly, right? And no matter what happens, people are going to die in a battle, right? And when it comes right down to it, people are people, and you shouldn't hold yourself accountable for the murderous actions of enemies you choose not to take on right away, right?

Sure. Dranko's telling himself that late at night, these days, in those early hours when the night closes in. But he's not entirely sure he believes it.

And he'll never know for sure.

-----------------------------------------------------------

C'mon, Sagiro! Quit playing StarCon2 and write an update!


----------



## Kesh

Just for that, I'm gonna have to add something to alsih2o's thread.


----------



## Samnell

PC, that was either a hint virtually to the point of just screaming it at us or a devilishly clever teasing ruse.

You are a bad, bad man.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Well, having finally caught up with this thread, I have to say Argh and Yay! in equal measure.

Yay! cos it's brilliant, and it's lovely to hear about P-kitty playing instead of DMing.

Argh because I've caught up and now I have to _wait_ to see what happens...argh argh argh...


----------



## Piratecat

Well, Mister "I'm on vacation and replaying Star Control 2" Sagiro has another two or three sessions that need writing up, and there's some good stuff! So when he gets back in a few days, we'll hopefully have an update.


----------



## Alomir

NARGH!!!  I read forever and ever, salivating more and more with each post, only to find that the updates end *HERE*?!?  NARGH!  Must... have... more... posts...

Sagiro, you and P'Cat are bad, bad men.  I really respect that.


----------



## Tareth Greenbriar

*Star Control 2...?*

You know, I really do like that game.  One of the best that I have ever played.  If you don't mind my asking, is he playing the PC version or the 3DO version?  I certainly know which one I prefer...


----------



## Sagiro

*Re: Star Control 2...?*



			
				Tareth Greenbriar said:
			
		

> *You know, I really do like that game.  One of the best that I have ever played.  If you don't mind my asking, is he playing the PC version or the 3DO version?  I certainly know which one I prefer... *




I believe it's a Windows-compatible implementation of the 3D0 version.  There's speech from the aliens, at very least...

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 163*_

*>> note that for much of the following, Aravis’ player also ran Flicker.*

The battle in Ava Dormo continues frenetically on its unconventional course.   Morningstar quickly spreads the word for more of her Ellish sisters to start focusing their concentration on the ground beneath the ballista, and for others, if possible, to knock Octesian into the _blade barrier_.   The sounds of the whirling blades clinking off the metal engine resound through the Dreamscape.  

The battle becomes stranger.  The earth beneath Octesian’s ballista is rippling like water, as Ellish forces try to disrupt the ground and enemy soldiers try to flatten it.   Another bolt of green energy flies wide by a dozen yards.  

Many Ellish soldiers have surrounded Octesian.  Morningstar sees with horror that they are practically throwing themselves against him in the attempt to drive him back, and several of the ones in front are taking damage as they come in contact with the red armor.  Octesian is a masterful swordsman in Dream, and his evil black sword is chopping through his enemies.   Blood spatters the ground of Ava Dormo.  June, Morningstar’s headstrong but devout and talented protégé, has struggled to the fore of the melee.  She manages to land a damaging blow on Octesian’s shoulder.  And then Morningstar, herself unable to reach the front line, watches helplessly as Octesian scythes his blade across in a perfect, vicious cut… and strikes the head clean from June’s shoulders.

Then, finally, the sheer number of Ellish warriors overpowers Octesian, and he is borne back into the _blade barrier_.  Two more sisters are cut apart by blades, but these (as Morningstar thinks gratefully) will simply be expelled from Ava Dormo; the only thing here in the battle that is truly deadly is Octesian’s sword.  A lump forms in Morningstar’s throat at the sight of June’s body.  

Octesian is wounded, but manages to drop and roll mostly beneath the deadly plane of blades.  He emerges from the killing zone some distance away from his attackers, and stands shakily, blood dripping from beneath the plates of his armor.  

Then the metaphorical cavalry arrives.  The rest of the Company has reached Aravis’s _secure shelter_, and Morningstar drops out of Dream just long enough to cast _dream anchor_, bringing in Ernie, Step, Grey Wolf and Flicker.   Dranko and Kibi remain outside, to fly around and scout out the battlefield.   Skorg looks at the new pile of entranced bodies sitting on bunks, glances at the battle-ready Portia and Attrius, and lets out a long sigh.  He checks again that his healing potions are at the ready.

Ernie appears in Ava Dormo directly next to Octesian (fortunately not on the side with the blades), who is just finishing getting to his feet.  The red-armored warrior looks appropriately surprised to see this new addition to the fight, and is surprised further when Ernie launches a furious attack upon Octesian’s knees, slashing _Beryn Sur_ through the small gaps in his opponent’s armor.  

“Hi there!” says Ernie happily.  “Goodness calling!”

Flicker, still invisible, immediately flies over the blades to the ballista itself.  He lands on the barrel, nearly deafened by the sounds of blades striking the metal below.  Concentrating as best he can (not easy with the ground undulating beneath), he starts a close examination of the machine’s barrel.   Fearless, he puts his face right up to the business end and peers in.  Inside the dark interior of the barrel, dull green energies swirl, growing slowly brighter.  Suddenly those energies flare up, and Flicker just jerks his head out of harm’s way as another bolt fires.  He instinctively watches its flight, and grimaces as it clips the side of the distant stone tower.   Gulping, he starts to fish an oil-flask and rag from his pack.

“I need help!” Octesian bellows.  He lashes out at Ernie and his black blade shears through Ernie’s plate mail.  Halfling blood spills upon the ground.  A number of enemy soldiers leave off the mental battle for control of the ground beneath the ballista, and come to Octesian’s aid (as quickly as they can while skirting the _blade barrier_).

Step and Morningstar also converge.  Grey Wolf, still with _see invisibility_ up, spots a heretofore unnoticed humanoid figure flying high above the battle.  He flies up a bit himself to get a better view, but decides pretty quickly to throw caution to the wind.  He launches a _fireball_ at the flyer.  When the flames clear, the figure is still flying, wisps of smoke rising from his or her clothing.

Morningstar reaches Octesian and swings her Ell-blessed weapon, but is foiled by the red armor.  Octesian sneers with contempt.  Step’s charge is intercepted by a number of Octesian’s soldiers, who surround the paladin and land a number of telling blows.   Step staggers back…

* *

Dranko and Kibi soar high above the battlefield; below them, the war rages on.   In the Mud Zone, hundreds upon hundreds of enemy troops have survived the hail of arrows and broken into the forest to engage kingdom forces.  Hundreds more have arrived near the Gate and are still slogging through mud, but the rain of arrows has grown noticeably sparser since the engagement began.   And all through the forest itself, heard more than seen through the canopy, small battles are being fought in isolated pockets.  There is no way of telling which side has the upper hand, but one thing is clear: if enemy soldiers keep arriving at the same steady rate, attrition will spell the death of the Charagan forces.   At least the huge stone siege engine in the Mud Zone has not budged; stone arms hang lifelessly at its side, and Naradawk’s minions have given up trying to push it out of the mud.

From across the battlefield, toward the north-west corner of the Mud Zone, Dranko sees a sudden flash of flames high in the air.  

“That was a _flame strike_!” he shouts to Kibi.

The two of them veer off at once to investigate…

* *

Aravis remains calm at the center of the storm.

He has brought the focus of the Crosser’s Maze to the very heart of the battle, and is sewing up the ragged tears in local space-time as a master tailor might mend a tattered tunic.  But instead of thread, Aravis uses life-force.  It is exceedingly delicate work.  He is drawing life force from whomever he can – the Company, the officers, the soldiers in the field.   There is an unexpected surge in the pressure beyond the tears, and he instinctively reaches out with his mind to patch a sudden hole.  Before he can stop himself, he realizes that the soul he is using isn’t strong enough for the task, but it is too late.  Just like that, a footman’s life somewhere out in the forest is snuffed out.   Aravis is shocked and chilled in the realization of what he has just done, but he sets his mind back to the task.  There will only be time enough to mourn if he succeeds in his task.

As Aravis sets his mind back to the business of shoring up space-time, he is startled to hear voices coming from alarmingly close by.  He swivels the focus of the Maze around, fearing an attack.  But no… there is nothing.  

He hears the voices again, faintly.  He cannot make out what they’re saying but he senses urgency.  But where are they coming from?  He takes precious seconds to comb the space-time around the planar gate.

A ha!  There, not far away – a small opening into a tiny well-hidden demi-plane, facing directly toward the planar gate!   Aravis moves his mind closer.  It is a demi-plane no larger than a small house, and there are clearly many voices within, but he still cannot make out what they are saying.  Could this be the launching point for Naradawk’s assault on the gate?   For a few seconds Aravis toys with the idea of simply plastering over the opening with a _wall of force_.  But at the last minute he decides to move just a tiny bit closer, hoping to overhear something that will confirm his suspicions.  He moves his mind closer… closer… 

* * 

Flicker has managed to stuff a rag into an oil flask and set at alight.  He holds it outstretched in one hand, and maintains a tight grip on the ballista barrel with the other.  His body is contorted around so that he can still peer into the barrel, watching the swirly green glow, waiting, waiting.  

It flares up.  Flicker yanks his head away and jams the flask into the barrel just before it fires.  There is a tremendous explosion and Flicker is nearly knocked off the barrel into the flashing blades.  But the bolt still fires, albeit at a crazy trajectory.  With a sigh, Flicker realizes that, although he thought he timed it perfectly, he used the oil just a split-second too soon.  Of course, if he’s just a split-second too _late_, it could blow his arm off.   But caution is not on Flicker’s list of virtues, and he immediately starts preparing another vial.

Grey Wolf watches as the figure above him drinks a potion and flies up even higher.  He takes off after it, takes his best guess at distance, and launches another _fireball_.  He’s pretty sure it hit, but the figure still doesn’t drop.  It continues to flee. 

Morningstar falls back from Octesian to heal Step, and gets a vicious attack of opportunity for her trouble.  But here it becomes clear that Octesian’s ability to do _real_ damage can be a liability as well, because just as Morningstar’s Dream self is damaged, so also is her real physical body.  And since Skorg is standing by with healing potions, Morningstar’s Dream persona can be healed from “off stage” as it were.  So even as Morningstar is healing Step, Skorg is healing Morningstar.

Ernie hacks again at Octesian’s legs, but all of his sword-blows are deflected by the red armor.   Octesian ignores the halfling and steps again toward Step.  He lands three devastating blows, and Step goes pale from pain and blood loss.   Back in the _secure shelter_, Skorg sees three wide gashes open on Step’s body, and the floor runs red with the paladin’s blood.

“Oh my god!” Skorg exclaims.  He is still dribbling the last of a healing potion into Morningstar’s mouth.  “You two.  I know you’ve got to watch Aravis, but no one’s coming in here in the next five seconds.  Pour some of your potions into this guy, while I get the next ones ready.”

Attrius and Portia exchange a quick look, nod, and move forward to administer their healing potions to Step.  As soon as the last drops have been swallowed, they move back to stand over Aravis…

* *

…who has finally moved close enough to hear what’s going on in the Demiplane.   Somewhere in the back of his mind he realizes that what he’s “hearing” is actual telepathic communications between persons inside the pocket dimension:

“The fifth seal is breaking – Koenig, quickly!  I need help here.  Salk, you should have the softest sector for the next fifteen seconds – divert one third of your energy to the ninth seal.  Ozilinsh, how are you holding up?  Forty-one seconds before the next surge; Fylnius, I’ll need all of your help when that happens…”

Well, thank Pikon that he didn’t go ahead with that _wall of force_ plan!

Aravis approaches the Demiplane from within the Crosser’s Maze and sticks his head in.   Despite their desperate circumstance and critical task, the Archmagi have enough wherewithal not to startle.  They are seated in simple wooden chairs set around a large and complex three-dimensional pattern in the air.  The pattern is made of magical energy, and it pulses, streaks and blinks in places as Aravis watches.

“Hello Aravis,” says Ozilinsh calmly.  “I hope that…oop, hold on.”

Ozilinsh concentrates for a moment and twitches his fingers.  

“Alykeen, I’ll need to you evoke _iron wards_ around my second quadrant in forty-nine seconds.  That should hold the sixth through tenth seals for a good minute.  Will you be ready?”

“Yes,” gasps another one of the Archmagi.  Aravis sees that all of the assembled wizards are sweating.

“Good,” says Ozilinsh.  “Now, Aravis, what can we do for you?  Nothing too time-consuming, I hope!”

Aravis thinks for a second.

“I may need your life-force,” he says.  “I’m going to blow open the Gate in a short while, and I’ll need all the life-energy I can get to remake space-time as quickly as possible.  But I don’t want to do anything that will distract you…”

The Archmagi, listening as they continue their rituals, glance at each other.  Some communication passes among them that Aravis, even tied into the Maze, cannot hear.

“Aravis,” says Ozilinsh softly.  “When the time comes, do as you must.  Our power is at your disposal.  Now, if you’ll excuse us, we still need to keep up our end until you’re ready.”

“Fylnius!” shouts Alykeen.  “We’re getting another surge.  I need you to…”

Aravis backs out of the Demiplane and returns to his task: to prepare the universe for his great plan, wherein he will destroy a small piece of it, and build a new section in its stead.  Gently he teases more life energy from his allies in Verdshane.  Not long now.  Not long.  


* *

Back in Verdshane, a very light drizzle begins to fall from the clouded sky, reducing visibility.  Dranko and Kibi fly lower, the better to spot things (where possible) between the trees.  They continue to fly in the direction from where Dranko saw the _flame strike_.   Kibi spots another spell effect in the distance; he guesses that this one was a _cone of cold!_  And… is that black speck a human figure flying high above the trees?  It’s still some hundreds of feet away.  Kibi and Dranko continue to fly.

Greywolf continues his pursuit of his flying target, and launches a third _fireball_.  For a moment he’s not sure if it struck, but he is rewarded a second later as a crispy body comes plummeting straight out of the sky above.  It rockets past him, bounces off the back of the ballista, falls into the blades, and is quickly chopped to bits.  

Flicker waits.  He _thinks_ he has timed everything just right.  The rag should burn down just at the moment the ballista should next fire.  All he has to do is anticipate.  He holds his breath, peering into the barrel. 

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

Now!

He crams the vial into the barrel just as it fires.  The explosion is much bigger than last time, and it blasts Flicker off sideways almost thirty feet before he remembers that he can still _fly._.  A great cloud of crackling green smoke hangs around the ballista for a few seconds, and when it clears, it reveals that the barrel is kinked near the end at a near-90-degree angle.  It’s bent almost straight upward!

Morningstar, standing defiantly before Octesian, chuckles with satisfaction.

“It doesn’t seem like you had much time with that thing,” she says with a smile.  

Octesian answers defiantly.  “Perhaps not.  And I wanted to do it myself,” he says, “But I think you’ll find we distracted your precious Semek long enough.  In a few days, when I need a good slave for my retinue, I’ll be sure to look you up.  Things can’t be going well for your side back in the waking world.  See you soon.”

And with that, Octesian vanishes.

Morningstar starts to curse under her breath, but stops as she feels a thrill running through her body.  As if from far away she hears a soothing sound of waves breaking on a distant shore, and the faint sounds of gulls crying in salt air.  It comes to her heart that her debt for Mrs. Horn’s life, made so long ago, has been repaid at last.  

But on the heels of this blessed relief comes another message, this one a warning.  The voice is that of her Ellish avatar.

“You are not finished here,” it admonishes.  “You have done well, but there will be more battles fought in the Dreamscape before the end.  And Octesian will not forget you.”


…to be continued…


----------



## thatdarncat

Ok, I have to be up in about 6 hours... but this made staying up late worth it!


----------



## Ancalagon

Great post!

But (and curse my feeble memory) who is semek again?

Ancalagon

P.S.  everyone read sepulgrave's story hours!!!


----------



## Plane Sailing

Way to go Flicker! "Disable Device" was never more appropriate!

And c'mon Step my man! Hold your end up!

Thanks for the update Sagiro. Of course, I know we are still several weeks behind real-time...

Cheers


----------



## Fade

Yay! Another update!


----------



## Piratecat

When Flicker (being played by Aravis' player) said "I'm going to try to disable device on the apparatus!", Sagiro gave us one of those looks. You know, the look that says that a certain plan is ludicrous and almost certainly can't succeed, but he's a good DM so he'll let us try. And in fact, the DC for what Flicker did was extremely difficult; I think it was DC 40. "How can you disable something with no moving parts?" Sagiro must have thought.

And then Flicker rolled a 19 followed by a natural 20 on two different disable device checks. DC 39 followed by DC 40.

Sometimes, luck is on OUR side.  

At this point, the only time we had ever heard the name of Semek before is the Mirrors of Semek, where Flashing Day takes place. From run 12:



> (The Mirrors of Semek are seven black stone obelisks, 80’ tall and 20’ wide, set in a circle 150’ in diameter, and each with a flat shiny side facing inward. They stand in the empty plains of southeastern Harkran, about 80 miles from Tal Hae. Once every year (June 21st, at high noon), strange colored lights flash between the Mirrors, creating an especially bright column of light in their center. The annual event typically attracts about a hundred "tourists" who want to see the spectacle.)




From Run 13:



> Before going to sleep, Dranko decides to climb one of the obelisks, slips near the top, and nearly falls 80’ to his death. But that’s all.
> 
> Tuesday, June 21 - In the time before the Mirrors flash, the Company does some Detect Magic-ing, hoping to discover an Eye of Moirel. There are several minor magic items detected among the crowd, but the Mirrors themselves are hugely magical and are masking most other magic in their immediate proximity.
> 
> Minutes before the flash, two men go out into the center of the circle; one is a ragged and slightly deranged looking guy who runs out, and the other is a more wealthy chap who walks out and grins at the crowd. (This is to be expected; every year, one or two people run out into the Mirrors as they flash. Nothing ever happens to them.) A woman runs out and argues briefly with the second man, and then returns. Both men are standing in the center when the light show begins; at exactly noon, bright lights flash out from the Mirrors to form a seven-sided star pattern, and concentric smaller "stars" appear within it, culminating in a bright pillar in the center that reaches into the sky.
> 
> After about three minutes (during which nothing has seemed to happen to the two in the middle) a third man, cloaked and hooded so his face isn’t visible, runs out from the crowd into the lights. Dranko and Ernie run in to give chase, and Flicker fires a sling bullet. When the newcomer reaches the center, he holds something aloft in the light, though what it is isn’t clear. However, when Dranko and Ernie reach him, the man has lost his substantiality, and their attacks, including a beautiful diving tackle from Ernie, pass right through him. Right before the seven minutes of the Flash are up, Dranko catches a glimpse of the man’s face—he is one of the bald elves from the attack in Oasis. As the lights cease, the elf vanishes.


----------



## Piratecat

Sagiro wins Seussian contest! Whoo hoo!


----------



## Plane Sailing

Congrats Sagiro!



> *The Staff of Vu’Varts, That blasted undead ‘til it snowed undead parts!
> *




Hey, I want one of those!


----------



## Tor Bladebearer

Wow, things are getting quite intense!  It's exciting to see the culmination of a lot of these plot threads after sooo long.

But that visit to the Archmagi really scares me... I have sudden visions of Aravis accidentally snuffing out the Archmagi in one mis-step with the Maze...

Eagerly awaiting the next update...


----------



## Carnifex

Great stuff! More!


----------



## Sagiro

Ancalagon said:
			
		

> *Great post!
> 
> But (and curse my feeble memory) who is semek again?
> 
> Ancalagon
> 
> P.S.  everyone read sepulgrave's story hours!!! *



Thanks, Piratecat, for those Semek-related quotes from the days of yore.  Here's one more minor detail from that section, a sidelight that's going to be explained (in a way) in an upcoming post.  As with PCat's refererence, this is also from Run #13, which took place on June 23rd, 1996:

"Later the party chats with a man named Pelidoster, one of several people wearing green turbans and calling themselves the 'Disciples of Semek.' This group of fanatics claims that Semek is a God of Light and Wisdom who long ago chased a Demon to the Abyss through the Mirrors, and that after he has conquered his foe, Semek will return via the Mirrors to reward all who stand vigil there. 

Ummm, yeah."


----------



## Plane Sailing

Tor Bladebearer said:
			
		

> *
> But that visit to the Archmagi really scares me... I have sudden visions of Aravis accidentally snuffing out the Archmagi in one mis-step with the Maze...
> 
> *




I was actually there at that point (yes, you can touch me if you like) and I have a vague recollection of an idea flitting across Aravis' mind... something along the lines of "hey, I could end up being the most powerful mage in the world if all the top guys... have an... accident..."


----------



## Caliber

Mucho cool Sagiro!

I especially liked Flicker using Disable Device on the Green Energy Cannon (GEC for short) Very inventive. We still don't know what Dranko regrets though! Get to it man!


----------



## Piratecat

Caliber said:
			
		

> * We still don't know what Dranko regrets though! *




Apparently, I was blaming myself for one person's death that in retrospect I wasn't responsible for - so it's not quite as bad as I thought it was. 

But lordy, does it get worse from here.


----------



## Waylander the Slayer

*wow*

Amazing update Sagiro. You are truly skilled to weave such a wonderful story AND manage such a large scale battle on so many different levels....mmm...How the heck did you pull it off man??


----------



## Kaodi

*Update And Contest*

An great and exciting update, and a wonderful winning entry. Congratulations, Sagiro. You've certainly earned it.


----------



## Plane Sailing

And just think - this ISN'T the campaign finale yet !!!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> *
> 
> I was actually there at that point (yes, you can touch me if you like) and I have a vague recollection of an idea flitting across Aravis' mind... something along the lines of "hey, I could end up being the most powerful mage in the world if all the top guys... have an... accident..."
> 
> *




Ooooh...*reaches out to touch Plane Sailing*...


----------



## Plane Sailing

Plane Sailing giggles unnervingly


----------



## Dawn

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *
> 
> But lordy, does it get worse from here.   *





Well, let's have it!


----------



## Kosh

*looks back at the archives and twitches*

I'd rather not delve through those to figure out what Morningstar specifically had to do to repay the debt for Mrs. Horn's resurrection...

Can someone fill me in?...


----------



## Sagiro

Kosh said:
			
		

> **looks back at the archives and twitches*
> 
> I'd rather not delve through those to figure out what Morningstar specifically had to do to repay the debt for Mrs. Horn's resurrection...
> 
> Can someone fill me in?... *



Sure!  Here's what Brechen asked of Morningstar:

*Already you walk a path not often tread by your sisters.  For the soul of your friend, you must promise this before Brechen and before your Goddess Ell: 

Your feet shall not stray from the road before you, though the shadows fade and darkness wanes.  Some will follow, and others will vilify, and betimes you will be stretched to the breaking point.  But even if the future tears you apart, you must stay the course. You will turn your eyes to the light when it comes, and not turn away though it burns you.  For you are a child of darkness, and you are a Child of Light.  Swear this, for the journey of Isabel Horn’s soul, from the Endless Shore to the land of mortals.  What say you?*

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 164*_

With Octesian’s departure, his minions now quickly start dropping out of Ava Dormo, though Ernie makes sure some of them get a painful sendoff.  Morningstar thinks herself over to Swan for a quick debriefing.

“I need you to stay on guard,” she says.  “We must return to the battle in the waking world, but Octesian could come back, or more enemies could show up.   How many have we lost?”

Swan looks around briefly.  

“Some scores who had their Dream bodies killed will have returned to their temples,” Swan answers.  “And… fourteen of our sisters were truly killed, by Octesian.  I’m sorry, Morningstar.  But they fought bravely, and died in the name of Ell, and for their kingdom.”

She gestures at the ground, where fourteen corpses lay scattered.  

Ernie has flown right up to the stone tower, which seems much as it did when they arrived.  Its smooth face is unblemished from being battered by the green bolts from the ballista, and there is still no sign of door or window.

“Time to go?” asks Step, flying up to join Morningstar.

“Time to go,” she agrees.  “Flicker!  Ernie!  Grey Wolf!  I’m dropping us back out.  I’m getting reports from Dranko over the _Rary’s_ that he and Kibi have found some signs of enemy spellcasters.”

“No rest for weary halflings then,” mutters Flicker.

A moment later the five of them are coming out of their trances back in the _secure shelter_.  

“We’ve got to get moving,” says Morningstar.  

Linked with Aravis via Pewter over the _Rary’s_, she asks the wizard how things are going in the Crosser’s Maze.

“You haven’t reported in a while.  Everything ok?”

“Yes, I think,” thinks Aravis.  “In fact, I believe I have things under enough control that I could come with you.  If I understand things correctly, I should be able to split my consciousness for a few minutes; part of my brain will continue with the Maze, while the rest of me acts as artillery to help the battle.  And don’t worry… if anything goes awry, I’ve got a _teleport_ to get me back here.”

Aravis comes out of his trance.  

“Let’s fly.”

A moment later the whole lot of them leave the _shelter_ behind and beneath them, flying through the increasing haze and drizzle to join Dranko and Kibi.  Only Skorg stays behind.

“…to… uh… guard the place.  For when you get back.”



* *



Kibi and Dranko race towards the spot where the spells had flashed, and the lone figure is flying.  Dranko just starts to make out the details of the flying person – he sees the green-and-gold robes of a priest of Pikon – when two globes of energy come streaking out of the mist (from two different directions) toward that person.   One is a green acidic-looking blob and the other looks like a ball of lightning.   Both strike the Pikonish figure in a torrid explosion of acid and electricity. 

The targeted figure falls out of the sky and crashes through the trees below.

Dranko and Kibi spot two different enemy spellcasters in the vicinity of the fallen man.  One of them lets loose with _magic missiles_ – five of them – which strike Kibi from a direction not blocked by his _shield_.   Dranko swoops down on the other one and lashes out twice with his whip – only to find that his flying target is also _displaced_.  Both attacks miss.

Kibi fires _magic missiles_ of his own back at his attacker, but the enemy caster’s _shield_ is properly aligned, and the missiles are harmlessly deflected.  Dranko’s caster launches a _fireball_ at Kibi, but all of the damage is absorbed by his triggered _energy buffer_ (now attuned to fire damage).  

The first enemy mage targets Dranko with a _slow_ spell, but Dranko shrugs off the effects.  Dranko pulls out a sling stone, casts _silence_ on it, and flies directly at his attacker.   Kibi blasts the second enemy mage with a _coldfire_.  Flames burst in midair, followed by a quick cold hiss.   The second mage flees from Dranko (earning an opportunistic whipping from Dranko), and once out of range of the _silence_, casts a spell and vanishes.   The first mage flies down beneath the trees, effectively disappearing in the misty rain.

And the Dranko catches a glimpse of red from below, in a patch of forest where the trees are sparse.  He does a double take, looks again… yes!  It’s a woman in red plate mail.  Meledien!  

“It’s the bitch!”  Dranko cries to Kibi.  “Meledien.  I’m going after her!”

“We should wait for the others,” Kibi cautions.  “Those two spellcasters are still around somewhere, and Meledien is no pushover.”

But Dranko cannot be dissuaded.

“They’ll be here in half a minute or less,” he says.  “I know what I’m doing.  Cover me.”

Kibi sighs.  The two of them swoop down into the forest, where a furious battle is taking place amidst the larger war.  A woman in red armor fights along with several elite soldiers, whose black armor is studded with red-tipped spikes.   A number of weaker enemy soldiers have rallied to their leader, and the lot of them is engaged in a frantic melee against a couple dozen Charagan soldiers.   The ground is covered with bodies, and some carrion birds have not waited to start feasting.   There is a light mist beneath the treetops, which along with the drizzle is making visibility very poor.  

Dranko makes a beeline for the woman he thinks is Meledien – but as he approaches, it comes to his mind that she is taller than he remembers Meledien being, by about six inches.   Inwardly he screams in frustration – but Meledien or not, red armor means trouble.  Hoping that she can’t see him while he’s _improvedly invisible_, Dranko takes a moment to position himself for a full attack, and then strikes twice with his whip.  He finds the chinks in the armor; the woman turns around to look, but sees nothing.  Dranko smiles, even though he’s enduring a constant stream of “don’t start attacking… wait for us…” from Morningstar over the _Rary’s_. 

Kibi uses his _Staff of Conjuring_ and starts brewing up a celestial dire bear. 

Suddenly Dranko feels a distortion around him, and the spells cast upon his person start to unravel.  Someone has cast _dispel magic_ on him, and in an eyeblink he is divested of his _improved invisibility, see invisibility, bull’s strength, cat’s grace, fly, endurance, protection from evil, endure elements,_ and _silence_.  Only his _protection from elements: electricity_ remains intact.

“If you had just waited,” thinks Morningstar.

“The last thing I need right now is a _Rary’s I-Told-You-So,_” thinks Dranko.

The woman spots Dranko descending down to ground level and strides over to him.  She has the same black coruscating longsword that seems to be standard-issue for these red-armored types, and she opens up a gash in Dranko’s side with it.  A crimson helmet hides her face, but Dranko hears a feminine chuckle from inside.  It doesn’t sound like Meledien either… damn!

A huge white-glowing bear appears right next to the woman.  She whips around just in time get a good look at its claws as it mauls her, rending gashes into the armor with its sharp claws.  But alas, even as it deals its damage, its claws and arms and body come into contact with the armor.  There is a horrible hissing sound and the bear falls backward in surprised agony.  It slumps to the ground, unconscious.

At almost the same instant, a number of thick rubbery tentacles erupt from the forest floor some 40 feet way, where many of the enemy soldiers had been gathered.  Kibi looks on with approval as his _Evard’s Black Tentcales_ start grappling the hapless footmen.

Dranko lashes out with his whip, striking damaging blows two more times on the woman.  She turns to face him, sword raised.

Dranko gestures hopefully at the bear.  “Don’t you think that’s a better target?  It’s still breathing.”

“So are you,” she points out.  He sword lashes out in a flurry of slashes, two of which open new gaping wounds on Dranko’s body. 

“But not for much longer,” she adds.

A crackling orb of electricity comes flying from the trees and slams into Dranko only seconds after the woman’s sword.  The damage is all absorbed, and Dranko prays silent thanks to Delioch that at least his Protection spell survived the earlier dispelling.  He could very well be dead otherwise.

And just as Dranko starts a desperate retreat away from his attacker, at last the remainder of the Company arrives, and the battle is joined in earnest.


…to be continued…


----------



## Tor Bladebearer

So does that mean we've finally completed repaying our debt to Brechen?

Abernathy: Shuffled off this mortal coil and went to join the choir eternal.

Tor: Prevented great-great-great-great-great-great-great grand-dad from eating my soul.

Kay: Rescued the Yrimpa.

Dranko: Redemption of Califax.

Morningstar: Defeated Octesian.

Can't recall what Ernie & Flicker had, but I seem to recall that they were fulfilled also...


----------



## dpdx

It's all been said, except this: When my PC grows up, it wants to be One Certain Step.


----------



## Piratecat

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *“We should wait for the others,” Kibi cautions.  “Those two spellcasters are still around somewhere, and Meledien is no pushover.”
> 
> But Dranko cannot be dissuaded.
> 
> “They’ll be here in half a minute or less,” he says.  “I know what I’m doing.  Cover me.”
> *




Stupid-stupid-stupid. This is the major tactical mistake I was referring to before; if I had stayed on these dratted wizards, the fight might have been much different. Lord knows that it would have occurred with all of my enhancement spells intact! *sob*  Instead, they're going to make life fairly miserable for a lot of people, and I learn the hard way not to underestimate my foes.

Man, I hate having to apologize to Morningstar for doing somethin stupid.

Tor, Ernie's promise was to keep himself safe.  Flicker's was to concentrate on rogue instead of fighter, I think. I don't believe either have been fulfilled.


----------



## thatdarncat

Tor Bladebearer said:
			
		

> *Tor: Prevented great-great-great-great-great-great-great grand-dad from eating my soul.
> *




Ummmmmm care to fill us in?  What's Tor been upto?


----------



## KidCthulhu

Ernie has not yet fulfilled his promice.  In fact, he rather gratuitously broke it by getting killed, thus incurring further promises, this time directly to Yondalla.

I had to get the stupid promise.  "Ernie, don't you get hurt."  It's like telling a kid he can go in swimming but he can't get his feet wet.  Grumble, grumble...


----------



## Zad

So Sagiro.

Dear sweet friend Sagiro. Who's story hour I love. (Yes, I want something.)

What are the odds of us sweet talking you into updating the post title (of the original post) with the last date you updated it? I personally find this new trend in story hours to be of immense help in keeping up with my favorite writers.


----------



## Sagiro

*Sagiro's Story Hour Returns (UPDATED: 1/8/03)*



			
				Zad said:
			
		

> *So Sagiro.
> 
> Dear sweet friend Sagiro. Who's story hour I love. (Yes, I want something.)
> 
> What are the odds of us sweet talking you into updating the post title (of the original post) with the last date you updated it? I personally find this new trend in story hours to be of immense help in keeping up with my favorite writers. *




I'd be more than happy to do that, though I'm not sure how.  Is it as simple as retyping the Post Subject?  I'll try that now...


EDIT:  nope, that didn't work.  How does one edit the title of one's thread?  Anyone?


----------



## Artoomis

*Re: Sagiro's Story Hour Returns (UPDATED: 1/8/03)*



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> 
> I'd be more than happy to do that, though I'm not sure how.  Is it as simple as retyping the Post Subject?  I'll try that now...
> 
> 
> EDIT:  nope, that didn't work.  How does one exit the title of one's thread?  Anyone? *




Just edit the original post and you can edit the subject for the thread.

P.S.  Thanks for a great story hour.


----------



## bertman4

*question on Null Shadow*

Finally caught up with my reading. Anyway, had a question about the Null Shadows. They are only affected by non-magical weapons, correct? Then what happens with a high level monk? Does the unarmed strike count as magical or non-magical? Same question with adamantine weapons. Technically non-magical but still enhanced. Thanks.

Bertman


----------



## Swack-Iron

Tor Bladebearer said:
			
		

> *So does that mean we've finally completed repaying our debt to Brechen?
> 
> Abernathy: Shuffled off this mortal coil and went to join the choir eternal.
> 
> Tor: Prevented great-great-great-great-great-great-great grand-dad from eating my soul.
> 
> Kay: Rescued the Yrimpa.
> 
> Dranko: Redemption of Califax.
> 
> Morningstar: Defeated Octesian.
> 
> Can't recall what Ernie & Flicker had, but I seem to recall that they were fulfilled also... *




And speaking of all these debts, whatever happened to Mrs. Horn, anyway? Have we heard what's the latest with her?

And since I've been lurking for the last, oh, 50 episodes or so, allow me to again be with the heaping praise and say: Dang, this story hour is still the best!


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 165*_

“Watch out!” cries Kibi to the new arrivals.  “There are two evil wizards flying around.”

Aravis immediately pegs the red-armored woman with a _magic missile_, and spends a few seconds scanning the area for the mages without success.  Grey Wolf casts _spectral hand_ from a scroll and also looks around for the hidden casters, but he doesn’t see them either.

Morningstar flies to Dranko and reads a _heal_ spell off of a scroll;  Dranko’s many and serious injuries (88 hp worth!) are instantly cured.  The withering look she gives him is almost enough to open the wounds up again.   Dranko gulps down a _fly_ potion, and both of them join in the hide-and-seek game, looking for those mages.

Hey!  There’s one!  Well, no one actually _sees_ her, but a _fireball_ pellet comes streaking out of the mist and explodes around Dranko, Aravis and Morningstar.   All of them manage to shield themselves from at least some of the blast, and Dranko uses his quick reflexes to avoid the damage altogether.   Several nearby soldiers, mostly Charagan but with a couple of Naradawk’s, are caught full in the fiery blast and incinerated.   But when members of the Company look in the direction from whence came the _fireball_, they see nothing. 

“She must be invisible!” shouts Dranko.  “And I’ve lost my spell to see them!  Kibi, I need another _see invisibility!_

Another spell comes hurtling from the mist, from a different direction.  A massive _acid orb_ catches Grey Wolf directly in the chest and splashes up into his face.  He smells the foul odor of his own dissolving flesh and screams in pain.

Kibi, who has _see invisibility_ cast upon himself, catches a quick glimpse of the mage vanishing into the mist, but before he can pursue, the red-armored woman _flies_ up (yikes!) and over toward him, slashing him with her wicked blade.   He flies away from her toward Dranko, and gets hit with a second sword-swing, but he makes it over to the half-orc and casts _see invisibility_.  

Flicker lands behind one of the elite warriors, who is cutting his way through some ill-trained Charagan farmer-conscripts.  Using his allies to flank, he delivers a punishing sneak attack, sending the enemy reeling.  Ernie drinks a _haste_ potion, and flies directly toward the red-armored foe.  Step lays into another one of the elite minions, almost knocking him out with a single swing of his flaming greatsword.  And then everyone in the immediate vicinity feels the soothing healing magic of a _healing circle_ from Morningstar.  Aaaaah.

Aravis drinks a potion of _see invisibility_, further increasing the likelihood that _someone_ will spot one of those damn enemy mages.  But they are staying out of sight, using the trees, rain and fog to great advantage.  Dranko flies to Grey Wolf and heals much of the acid damage.

Another _fireball_ pellet comes streaking out of the fog, but this one strikes a tree branch and explodes harmlessly, except perhaps from the tree’s point of view.  Dranko actually sees the caster clearly for a moment, but to his great frustration she immediately flies back into the forest and out of sight.  The red-armored warrior sees Ernie and launches contemptuous swings at him, and is dismayed that only one of her blows strikes true, the others deflected by his plate mail.  Still, as single hits go, it’s a powerful shot, and Ernie winces in pain.  Kibi, without many spells left, grabs Aravis’ _wand of magic missiles_, and drinks a potion of _cure serious wounds_.

Flicker spends a round looking everywhere for signs of the enemy wizards, to no avail.  Dranko casts _bless_, and _he_ manages to spot one of the wizards soon after.  He watches as she casts _web_ among the tree branches, catching Morningstar and Ernie inside.   Dranko points at the wizard and shouts “there she is!”  Morningstar, wearing a _ring of freedom of movement_, slides effortlessly out of the webbing and moves to pursue.  Kibi takes off with Morningstar, drinking a _potion of haste_ as he goes.  Flicker launches an attack on the red-armored warrior but cannot penetrate the armor.  

The red-armored woman finds herself a mere five feet away from One Certain Step; she shifts position, her longsword flashes, and Step is badly diced by three vicious cuts.  Ernie, who knows from recent experience where the weak points are in the red enemy armor, smiles as he sees an opening in the knee joint.  Two critical hits later, blood is pouring down the left leg of the armor and dripping onto the leaves below.   Step looks like he’s also going to move in, but Ernie sees that he looks near to death from his injuries.  

“Step!” he practically screams, “heal yourself first!”

Once Certain Step withdraws and uses his _wand of cure serious wounds_, grumbling.

Grey Wolf joins in the hunt for the enemy mage.  Aravis flies low to get an angle where he can cast _flaming sphere_ to burn away the webs that have entrapped Ernie.  He catches a glimpse of an enemy soldier running up to him and swinging, but suddenly Attrius is there, interposing himself in front of the blade.  A slice from one of the woman’s elite minions opens up a wound on the bodyguard’s chest.  Aravis casts his spell and torches the webs.

Dranko moves to where he’s flanking the red-armored woman with Flicker, but he too can’t get past the armor.  She has no such trouble with him.  A furious flurry of cuts with the black sword follows, and Dranko’s blood is all over the place.  If not for Morningstar’s _heal_ scroll, Dranko would be dead almost twice over by now!

Morningstar finally gets the enemy wizard in her sights, cuts her off, and throws down a _flame strike_ upon her.  Kibi is following close behind the quarry, fires off two volleys of _magic missiles_ from Aravis’s wand.  Wham!  Wham wham wham.  Wham wham!  The mage tumbles out of the air and lands with a heavy thud, dead or unconscious, at the base of a tree.

Flicker again attacks the red-armored woman from a flanking position, and hits with a massively damaging sneak attack (which would have missed if not for Dranko’s _bless_.)  Dranko, sensing the foe may be about to fall, takes the opportunity to taunt.

“This is our world,” he says harshly.  “You’re not wanted here.”

“It was ours before it was yours,” she retorts.

Dranko is actually taken aback.  “Er… it was?”

Ernie declines to partake in the discussion, preferring to let Beryn Sur do the talking.  Two more slashes, and the foe is clearly starting to wobble.

Flicker pipes up. “What’s your name?”

From the woman’s helmet:  “Why do you care?”

“We like to keep track of who we kill,” says Flicker.

“F*ck you,” says the woman.

“That’s a nasty name,” says Flicker.

Grey Wolf casts _true strike_, flies in, and smacks the woman with Bostock.  “Good!” says the sword.  “You must wield me at every opportunity!”

Aravis looks around for a likely place to send his _flaming sphere_, but suddenly there is a twinge in his mind, from the aspect of his consciousness that has been gathering energy in the Crosser’s Maze.   He has gathered enough life energy to unmake the space-time around the Gate!  Without uttering a word, he grabs Attrius and Portia and _teleports_ back to the _secure shelter_.  

Skorg looks up.

“How are things…”

“Don’t let anyone in,” Aravis interrupts.  “I’m going to do something drastic.  I hope it works.”

He sits on a bunk and drops his whole mind into the Maze.


* *

Dranko strikes twice at his foe but the armor turns his whip.  But Morningstar comes streaking in, finds the only available opening at the mostly-surrounded warrior, and swings her morningstar… crunch!  The red armor splits under the force of the blow.  The woman’s head lolls back, and the whole body drops out of the air.  Grey Wolf just manages to avoid having the deadly armor land on him.

Flicker swoops down, and just to be sure the foe is dead, he sticks his short sword into the visor of the red helmet… and stirs.  The others look away in disgust.  Kibi flies down to the fallen mage and delivers a less messy coup de grace.  

Then the forest shudders, and time seems to stand still.


* *

Aravis has gathered into himself a great store of energy, along with the confidence that the local fabric of existence will stand up to the punishment he’s about to inflict upon it.   He reaches out with his mind, remembering all that King Vhadish XXIII taught him…

…and he blows apart the Planar Gate, the one thing that has protected Charagan from Naradawk Skewn for the past 900 years.  


* *

A wind begins to blow through the trees, a wind that starts in the very center of the Mud Zone and emanates outward in all directions.   Thunder cracks overhead, waves of sound that roll outward as if riding the wind.  The gusts pick up intensity, becoming a gale in a matter of seconds, and the thunder does not abate.   A white light tinged with orange shines out from the Gate like a small sun, and the forest is illuminated as it has never been in all its centuries of growth.  All around the battlefield a hundred different melees slow to a halt, as soldiers stop fighting to pause and wonder.  Is this the end of the world?


* *

Aravis wastes no time.  Every second is precious, and every second, while the opening between Volpos and Abernia gapes, more soldiers are arriving.  He can _see_ them, dozens, hundreds of points of light, crossing over in a constant stream.

He starts to weave life force into new, whole fabric, using the Crosser’s Maze to focus the power toward the opening, but it doesn’t take long for him to realize that it won’t be enough.  Each individual soldier would be drained to death in the first few seconds of the endeavor, and he’s not even sure that the other members of the Company could supply the raw power he needs.  There is only one remaining chance.  With the speed of thought he re-centers his consciousness at the entrance to the Archmagi’s demiplane and sticks his head through.

The Archmagi are seated in their chairs, already looking expectantly at the entrance.  The energy pattern that had been the center of their lives for so long, is gone.  

“I need you,” Aravis says simply.

“We have prepared for this need,” says Salk.  “Do what you must.”

Aravis reaches out and begins to draw life energy from the Archmagi.  

It’s nearly more than he can control.  The demiplane, he realizes, was already created to focus and magnify outgoing magical energies.   And these old wizards, the greatest of fifty generations, are the source of a _huge_ store of energy. Where other people provided thin threads of life force, the torrent Aravis draws from the demiplane is like a thick writhing cable of energy that almost tears his mind apart.  He barely manages to focus it, but when he does, he knows… knows!… that he can succeed.  

Quickly he funnels that energy through various aspects of the Crosser’s Maze, using methods and skills learned under Vhadish.  He directs the focused power at the gaping hole where once the Gate had been, and quickly forms a thin layer across it like a skin.  The soldiers from Volpos start to slow down in their crossing, and Aravis knows they now must feel that making the plane-to-plane journey is like wading through thick syrup.

The energy stream stays solid, and he strengthens his newly created piece of space-time.  It grows thicker and more substantive, and Aravis exults as he realizes the enemy soldiers are unable to make the crossing.  But his mind is growing weary beneath the strain, and suddenly something large and powerful attempts to pass into Abernia.  Aravis loses focus, and for an agonizing moment he loses control of the energy stream.  It starts to overwhelm his mind, and his consciousness begins to slip away, carried on a massive flood.  Whatever the mighty creature is, it passes through his nascent creation and into Abernia!

Desperate, Aravis draws on every last reserve of mental control.  He seizes the energy cable like a man wrestling with a mighty python, and forces its focus back to the vital task.  Power pours from the demiplane like a raging river, and all of it is now translating directly into solid space-time.  Aravis has lost all notion of time – all he knows is that no more soldiers can make the crossing, and that he is very close to completion.   The area around where the Gate once stood is almost indistinguishable from the space-time around it.  Just a few more… seconds?  Hours?  He doesn’t know.  He only knows the agony of burning energy coursing through his mind.  

Something approaches the place where the Gate had been.  Whatever it was that crossed over during his moment of weakness, that was as nothing compared to this.  A being powerful beyond comprehension has reached Aravis’ creation.  It pushes.

Aravis pushes back.  He allows the energy to flow even more freely, though he knows it is damaging his mind.  He can almost taste the fury of this being that struggles to breach the unexpected border between Volpos and Abernia.

The fabric of the multiverse bends beneath the might of this creature. 

It bends… 

Stretches… 

Buckles…

…but it does not break!

The mighty being backs away and out of sight of the Maze, defeated.  The boundary between Volpos and Abernia is smooth and unbroken, with no sign that a Gate ever existed to facilitate the crossing.

Exhausted, Aravis stops drawing energy from the Demiplane.   In the Maze there is silence; the two planar spheres no longer have congress.  Aravis slowly turns his focus toward the room with the Archmagi, fearing to look inside.

The voices there, too, are silent.

* *

In the forests of Verdshane, thousands of soldiers have covered their eyes to the light and are hunched against the hurricane winds.  Saplings bend and break before the onslaught.   Thunder rolls loud and unceasing.  The world shakes, its very bones rattling.  

The winds suddenly die down, dropping back to a light breeze over just a few seconds.   The blinding light goes out a moment later, though a glowing white nimbus remains on objects for a few seconds afterward, outlining every leaf on every tree in a glowing aura.  Some seconds later, that too fades away.  The last peals of thunder echo through the trees.  

For a time following, every combatant for a mile around stands in awe and confusion, forgetting to fight.

Then: “Are…are you there?”

It is a panicked voice, squawking over the _Rary’s Telepathic Bond_.  Is that Corporal Edridge?

“We’re here,” thinks Morningstar.  “What’s wrong?”

“I can see it,” babbles Edridge.  “I’m near the Mud Zone, and it’s… I think… it’s a dragon!”

…to be continued…


----------



## Caliber

Wow awesome post!

I bet no one was looking forward to fighting a dragon after all the other problems they've had.

Poor Archmages though.

I have a question not exactly pertient to the last post, however.

I know Bostoc is supposed to gain powers as it is used, but has this ever occured in game? 

I plan on using a similar idea in my game and I was wondering if you had any advice (if your players aren't supposed to know you could email me if you want.)

Thanks for any help you can provide!


----------



## Carnifex

More great stuff!

***

BTW, one of my mates finally got Freedom Force yesterday, and I spent all night playing it  I have to congratulate Sagiro on his part in such a great game. Though my dreams last night were plagued by clones...


----------



## Destil

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Kibi is following close behind the quarry, fires off two volleys of magic missiles from Aravis’s wand. Wham! Wham wham wham. Wham wham! The mage tumbles out of the air and lands with a heavy thud, dead or unconscious, at the base of a tree. *



So, what kind of hairstyle is Kibi sporting these days? At least scree won't have Pewter's issues, being hairless and all.

Great update, as always.


----------



## KidCthulhu

*



			Ernie, who knows from recent experience where the weak points are in the red enemy armor, smiles as he sees an opening in the knee joint. Two critical hits later, blood is pouring down the left leg of the armor and dripping onto the leaves below.
		
Click to expand...


*
I'm thinking about creating a new feat for Ernie called "Sunder Kneecap".  When will those red armored guys learn not to dismiss the halfling?  Although it's probably just as well for him they do.  They can deal out a heap o damage.

Caliber, we don't know what Bostock does.  All we know is it creaps the hell out of the rest of the party.  We're pretty sure the blade is evil.  If you use it in your campaign, make sure to use the little whispery voice.  Guaranteed to produce interparty hijinks!


----------



## LightPhoenix

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *“This is our world,” he says harshly.  “You’re not wanted here.”
> 
> “It was ours before it was yours,” she retorts.
> 
> Dranko is actually taken aback.  “Er… it was?”
> 
> Ernie declines to partake in the discussion, preferring to let Beryn Sur do the talking.  Two more slashes, and the foe is clearly starting to wobble.
> 
> Flicker pipes up. “What’s your name?”
> 
> From the woman’s helmet:  “Why do you care?”
> 
> “We like to keep track of who we kill,” says Flicker.
> 
> “F*ck you,” says the woman.
> 
> “That’s a nasty name,” says Flicker.
> 
> Grey Wolf casts true strike, flies in, and smacks the woman with Bostock.  “Good!” says the sword.  “You must wield me at every opportunity!”
> *




This whole exchange is just golden.  That's a nasty name indeed.


----------



## Kosh

Absolutely amazing...


----------



## wolff96

Incredible...

A hideous fight, hide-and-seek with mages, life-drain from Aravis unmaking the gate...

And NOW a dragon.

My hat is off to you Sagiro...  You reall ARE a rat bastard DM.


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

I had this momentary image of the Archmages all drained of their experience and reduced to the state of new-born babies...  leaving the Company to raise a handful of toddlers with immense magical potential...


----------



## Ancalagon

wo...

But with all the archmages out of commission, who will deal with Partol!?!?!   

Ancalagon


----------



## Nail

Did we (the readers) ever get told with the Maze's "life-draining ability" actually do, in game terms?  That is, is this XP we're seeing taken from the PCs and NPCs?   Yoowsa.


----------



## Nail

Ancalagon said:
			
		

> *wo...
> 
> But with all the archmages out of commission, who will deal with Partol!?!?!
> 
> Ancalagon *




Uhm....is this really a question?


----------



## wolff96

Caliber said:
			
		

> *I know Bostoc is supposed to gain powers as it is used, but has this ever occured in game? *




Yes, it has.

I don't remember exactly what it gained -- I'm thinking it went from +1 to +2 -- but it was during the time when they were hunting orcs with the dwarven guides, trying to expose the red-armored foe that was rallying the armies of humanoids.



> _Originally posted by Nail_
> *Did we (the readers) ever get told with the Maze's "life-draining ability" actually do, in game terms? That is, is this XP we're seeing taken from the PCs and NPCs?*




If this was answered, I missed it too. Any chance of finding out, Sagiro?


----------



## Piratecat

I was just updating Dranko, and came across his Compleat and Inklusive List of Aventuring Soovenirs.  Wanna see? You might remember a few of these.

---------------------------------------

Mrs. H’s fishermen’s sweater
Abernathy’s silver ashtray (75 gp)
Cape made of Seki fur
Stuffed Seki head
6’ long eyebat cable
stolen snuff box
Ernie’s wooly mittens, hat, & socks
Sock stuck into icebox
Storm knight souvenir from Venic giant (big/little knight)
Uthalingite dart of virulent poison
Square coins (Gohgan’s basement; 2695 years old)
copper ring (Gohgan’s basement; 2695 years old)
red scarf from Gohgan’s
silver sash from goblin shaman
Kay’s silver elvish ring from her Mom (gift!)
silver food bowl for Smeggy (from auction)
silver ring (ruin of Tharnias’ shop)
18 flatworm teeth (one in good shape)
bottle of sand from the mouth of Nahalm
souvenir block of Floam
big gray-blue behir (alligator-snake) scale
vial of water from fountain in Ghant
bent iron bar (after being strong with strength bean)
Gardener’s trowel, Pincloth estate, Minok
sand-walking kit, stolen from Sand’s Edge
Bottle of troll stench
Necklace: jeweled sword (friend of Wurthas)
Manzanill’s spiffy wardrobe
Falva’s pot for Eddings (souvenir) 
2 Faceless crossbows, whipped from hands
½ wooden golem head, from Repose
Clay golem carving tools from Repose
Moving topiary souvenier from Djaw (?)
Little Cloudhawk Ferengi banner
glass jar w/ body of ER’s bright red snake/basilisk tail tip
Crude ogre silver (9) & copper (4) coins
Djaw paperwork for one month / weapon badge
Cool Djawian clothing – both nice and crappy
Iron cooking pot
Seki-skin cloak
Plate-like piece of exploded orcish Digger
amulet of Fire God symbol
Orcish trap needle (poisoned) from the Kalkas Peaks
Obsidian brick
Chisel stolen from the Kallor Black Circle complex
Letter from Lord Baravhad, sealed
bottle of Venic Giant muck; giant turtle souvenirs
jar of Venic giant flesh
red marble blood gargoyle face piece (to stuff in Mokad’s mouth)
2 bottles wine from Medir, 1 from Kenderhold
Burning God statue
souvenir from Flashing Day at the mirrors of Semek
black & silver studded leather armor (w/ accessories)
mechanism, pottery & skull from Castle Blackhope
original footman’s mace
3 unholy symbols, black circle w/ 5 diamonds worth 500 gp?
blind cow skull from Blackhope Dungeons
wooden 18” javelin from Kay’s neck (Verdshane)
Used-up invisibility ring from infiltration
wooden plague bat on string
4 dwarvish adamantite coins (@ 20 gp) from God’s Thorn
Miniature blue glass minaret from Zhamir
empty drug pot
golden holy symbol of Nifi on a silver chain (40 gp)
Mining pincers (rakshasa underground tunnel)
Bottle of Grond/babbler goop, with small eyeball
2 Dire rhino tusks from bone spider
Bone fragments from the battle of Bone Pass
3 feathers from a giant dire raven
Handful of miracs, min-miracs, and chits
Really nice Yujan carvings
Handful of pakeesh, Topia and Gin
Three cases of turtle jerky
1 box Tevvian cigars (too mild for our taste)
1 pouch Northlynch leaf pipe tobacco (from Barnabas)
1 excellent corncob pipe (from Barnabas)
2 sets of stylish Tevvian clothing (needs tailoring)
Manzanill’s spiffy wardrobe, new clothes (light & heavy)
Evil green potion from Kallor Black Circle central


----------



## Piratecat

I will also offer Dranko's 29 Rules for Adventuring:

1.	Don’t tell the guard you’re going to go with him.
2.	Avoid stealing stupid things.
3.	No socks in the icebox.
4.	Half-orcs do NOT eat quiche.
5.	Too many rats can nibble the halfling.  Rat-fishing and rat sausages will never be popular.
6.	Avoid the evil baker.
7.	Don’t hit the monster with a bush.
8.	A frontal assault is the fastest way to die.
9.	Always club the mage first. <Note: party members wish the word “evil” inserted here.>
10.	Heal first, chase and fight second.
11.	Look at the ceiling.  Yes, now!
12.	Sigils are icky.  Don’t read them.
13.	Bad things come in big boxes.
14.	Tie down the rope before jumping ship.
15.	Look under the altar, or under whatever is heaviest.
16.	Don’t leap the monster.  Yes, even this time.
17.	When given freedom, take it.
18.	If you seal a room shut, search it first.
19.	Don’t sass the archmage or the assassin.
20.	Look both ways before crossing the carriage-way.
21.	Everything is funnier with a monkey.
22.	Everything is our fault.
23.	Ask for stuff. You never know.
24.	I take the one on the left; Morningstar gets the one on the right.
25.	Three choices: “subtle”, “unsubtle”, and “stupid.”
26.	Low expectations make for a happy half-orc.
27.	Don’t kill your best friends by mistake.
28.	Please refraining from taunting the dire bear.
29.	Let Ernie offer condolences to the newly bereaved.


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Nail said:
			
		

> *Did we (the readers) ever get told with the Maze's "life-draining ability" actually do, in game terms?  That is, is this XP we're seeing taken from the PCs and NPCs?   Yoowsa. *




When the Black Circle tried to open a planar gate, by sacrificing Grey Wolf, in the Silent Quarter, of the City of Shadows. 

Arvis noticed that with the Maze he could see how people's life forces were connected to the planes, and that the Black Circle was draining Grey Wolf's lifeforce out of him. 

Arvis figured out the only way to keep Grey Wolf alive was for the party to each give some of their lifeforce to Grey Wolf. 

After the write-up one of the players informed us that in this case the "Life Force" sacrifice was experience points, but that post may have been removed for brevity's sake


----------



## KidCthulhu

I'll give this thread a bumpadidly by telling you all that Sagiro has indeed grown a long furry nose, a naked pink tail, and his parentage is greatly in question.  The man is a rat bastard, not that this was _ever_ in doubt.

Remember the dragon?  Did you all experience the same thrill of fear we did when we heard there was a dragon?  Well, after what he did to us in last night's session, we long for the idylic days of fighting dragons.  

And the worst thing is that having seen Sagiro's rat bastardy-ness, Piratecat now feels like he has to rachet up his evil quotient.  I say stop the insanity!


----------



## Dawn

Could this mean that we'll be seeing some story posting shortly?  

Story goodness just before the weekend!  Much happiness!


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 166*_

(particular thanks to Piratecat who took round-by-round notes of the battle against the dragon, which is why I am able to include detail after so much time...)

Aravis approaches the demiplane, dreading what he might see inside.  At first his worst fears seem realized; the Archmagi are sprawled out of their chairs, lying motionless on the floor.  Aravis moves inside and looks closely at Ozilinsh.  He’s breathing!  He checks two of the others, and they too are alive, albeit unconscious.  Perhaps he should…

Over the _Rary’s telepathic bond_:  “I think… it’s a dragon!”

Ah, no rest for the weary.  Aravis leaves the Archmagi to recover on their own, and drags his mind out of the Maze.  He’s not thinking clearly, and he _knows_ he’s not thinking clearly, but he doesn’t care -- his judgement isn’t what it should be, either.  

His brain hurts.

Attrius and Portia watch anxiously as Aravis stands up suddenly, stumbles, sits down again, stands up a second time.

“Are you alright sir?” asks Attrius.  “What happened?”

“I think I did it,” Aravis says groggily.  “But we’re not done yet.  There’s a dragon out there for us to fight.  Come on!”

“I’ll stay here and guard the…”  says Skorg, but before he can even finish the other three have flown out of the _secure shelter_ and into the damp sky.

* *

Kay and her contingent of five Yrimpa were ordered to patrol the skies above the Mud Zone and surrounding forest.  Their directives: make periodic checks of the “key room” which could be used by the enemy to release the monsters from their hanging boxes above Kinnet Gorge; and to be on the lookout for groups of flying enemies, dealing with them as necessary.

It is not long after the bulk of the enemy army arrives that this second condition is violently met.

Kay spots a flock a flock of almost fifty flying creatures, above and several hundred yards east of the "Mud Zone." They resemble small dragons -- maybe they are wyverns? -- and have spiked tufts at the ends of their tails. These creatures are swooping down into clearings where fighting is taking place, and firing off volleys of tail spikes into Kingdom soldiers. Their spikes grow back a few seconds later, and they dive-bomb again.  They also (again, every few rounds) breathe jets of hot steam at their foes.

When she reaches them to engage, these creatures have already decimated dozens of Kingdom soldiers; the forest is sparser there, and the good guys are having a tough time finding adequate cover. And there are enough enemy soldiers in the area that the good guys cannot simply flee willy-nilly.

The battle against the drakes is long and difficult, a spectacular battle that ranges far and wide over trees and clearings, sometimes down near the ground, sometimes hundreds of feet in the air.  For about half a minute Kay receives supporting arrow fire from friendly ground troops, until enemy soldiers engage them in melee. The whole fight takes as long as several ordinary battles often do. 

In the end, Kay and the Yrimpa prevail.  Kay has used her _control winds_ power to blast many of them down into the ground, where kingdom foot-soldiers hacked them up with swords. She has used her _whirlwind_ power when several of the creatures tried to surround her in the air and attack with claws and teeth.  She has used the _cure moderate wounds_ power of her magical warhammer as well as both of her _cure light wounds spells,_ and still by the time the last of the creatures was dispatched, she looked like a human pincushion. One Yrimpa has been slain, shredded by a concentrated volley of tail spikes.  Another is barely conscious, and all of them, including Kay, are badly wounded

Kay and the four surviving Yrimpa (and Oa Lyanna, who had not "disengaged" from Kay’s body) find their way to a healing tent, where clerics of Delioch manage to heal them somewhat back to health.  As the last Yrimpa is being healed, there is a sudden blast of thunder from the direction of the Mud Zone. Wind begins to blow through the forest from that same direction, increasing until it’s a steady fifty miles per hour, and then _that_ is followed by a shock wave of white energy that swept through the trees, leaving a glowing white outline on every leaf and branch. 

There is moment of eerie silence after that, as if all the fighting has stopped to wonder at this new phenomenon. Then she hears a sound of concentrated shouting coming from the Mud Zone, followed by a distant roar. As healed they are going to get, Kay and her air spirits fly toward the Mud Zone to investigate...


* *


“A dragon!” says Dranko, disgusted.  “Don’t we get a break sometime around now?”

“We cannot just leave this woman’s body here,” says Morningstar.  “I want to make sure I have the chance to question it later.”

They quickly devise a plan.  Ernie flies through the forest _away_ from the Mud Zone for about 100 yards, where the fighting is less thick.  He finds a small clearing, notes its location, and flies back.   Meanwhile, the others rig a quick makeshift rope harness around the red-armored woman’s body, being careful not to touch the armor itself.  

Ernie returns and explains to the others where the clearing is.  Then he grabs the harness and _dimension doors_ the body back to the clearing while the rest of the group flies there.   Once they’re all in the clearing, Grey Wolf casts a _rope trick_.  While most of the company starts hauling the body up into the extradimensional pocket, Dranko spots a small melee about thirty yards away and flies over.  To his satisfaction, two kingdom soldiers have just finished off one of Naradawk’s men, but one of the good guys has fallen over.  Dranko heals them both before addressing the one who is still standing.

* * 

His name was Thomas, and he was a farmer, and that was that.  He was a strong man, yes, but not young, not particularly brave, and he’d never picked up a sword in his life.  He liked carrots.  They were his favorite, and his most successful crop.  

Then the war happened, some strange battle in a far-off part of the kingdom.  And word soon came that if you had someone you could leave behind to look after your farm, you had to go fight.  Thomas was a good man, and knew the law, and did what he had to do.   He left the farm to his wife and his daughters, and three weeks later he was on the Balani Peninsula, digging trenches and cooking meals and (to his shame, he felt) hoping he would never have to kill anyone. 

To his great relief Thomas was never asked to engage in battle, though once he was sent out with a force of fifteen to make sure a particular hilltop was clear, and they spotted an enemy unit of over two hundred foot-soldiers.  They hid.

Then one day he heard that the Delfirians, those Fire God worshippers, were fleeing back to where they came from.   He knew then that he could go back to his farm and his family and take up his hoe again.

But then word came again of another battle, this one not so far down the road from his farm near Minok.  Again he was chosen, and soon was on a ship back to Harkran.  This time the invaders were going to attack in the middle of the Greatwood, near that creepy village of Verdshane, the one with all the ruins.  He had visited there one time, as a child.  He hated it.

For weeks they had built up defenses, mostly chopping down trees.  He got the general idea that the enemy was just going to sort of appear by some sort of magic, right in the middle of the forest.  So everyone was basically hacking down trees, while a bunch of engineer-type fellows worked out how to divert some of the river into the clearing they were making.  That way, when the bad guys appeared, they’d be up to their ankles in mud, and the good guys could just shoot ‘em while they were stuck.  

He couldn’t remember when the crazy thunder had started, and the weird flashing lights.  Everyone was nervous, even the real soldiers.  They had offered him a sword, but he felt more comfortable with a pitchfork.  He was stationed with a group of about twenty soldiers, some of them real fighting men and others who were conscripts like him.  His leather armor didn’t fit so well, but he was glad to have it.  They were stationed a ways into the forest, in case any of the bad guys got out of that muddy stuff.

This morning all hell had broken loose.  It was just like they said – enemy soldiers just started poppin’ up all over the damn place.  The man in charge of his group, an officer named Allin, had kept them together pretty well.  They spotted a few bad guys in ones and twos in the woods, and finished ‘em off as a group.  Gods, though, some of them enemy fighters were good.  Even outnumbered, one of them had chopped up two of his group.

Then, finally, a knot of about eight bad guys just kinda appeared, no flash, no sound, no nothin’.   Everything became chaos.  Allin got shot with a crossbow bolt right through his helmet.   A big battle was like nothin’ he had dreamt about – it was jus’ all chaos and jabbing and slashing and screaming and running.  He thought he might have got one of the bastards with his pitchfork, but he wasn’t sure.   Someone had nicked him with a sword on his shoulder, but not so bad, really.  And then he realized that they had all gotten separated, and it was just he and one of his buddies, Rogen, another normal guy who they had given a weapon to, facing down one mean-looking fellow in fancy black armor. 

But thank Pikon, the bad guy was pretty hurt already, and the two of them tried getting’ one of them on either side of the guy, like Allin had taught them.  The bugger got Rogen pretty good, but Thomas spotted an opening and jammed his pitchfork into a gap in the bad guy’s neck armor.  Blood started sprayin’ everywhere and the guy fell over, grabbing his throat.  

Rogen fell over too.  Blood was pourin’ out of the poor fellah, and Thomas was no healer.  Damn it all!  Rogen was a good man, and didn’t deserve to die like this.  Thomas watched helplessly as his friend’s lifeblood poured out onto the matted grass.  

Then things got weird.

This hideous looking guy who mighta’ been some kind of monster (he had big ol’ lower teeth like tusks) came flyin’ – no, literally, _flyin’_ – out of the trees.  He was wearin’ an official fancy uniform, though, and had a holy symbol of Delioch the Healing Hand around his neck.   This guy, he landed, and Thomas pointed to Rogen, and the new guy mumbled some words and cast a healing spell, and Rogen’s bleeding stopped and he opened his eyes and you could tell he didn’t understand what was happening.   Then the healer did the same for Thomas, even though he wasn’t as badly hurt.   He had a gravelly voice, and he said,

“What’s your name, soldier.”

“Thomas, sir.”

“Where you from, Thomas?”

“Minok, sir.  Leastaways, my farm is just outside the city there.”

“I have a job for you, Thomas.   It’s very important, and it doesn’t involve any fighting.”

“I’m all for that, sir.”

The new guy with the tusks picked up Thomas and flew them both back a ways, where there was the most crazy collection of people you could ever think to see.  Two of ‘em were little guys, halflings, and one of ‘em was in this little suit of plate mail from head to toe.  There was a tall woman with a pale face wearin’ all black, and a short guy in shiny plate mail holding a big honkin’ sword that was on fire, and, no kiddin’, a dwarf with a pile of rocks that was followin’ him around like it was alive.  Then another guy’s head appears up in the air, just his head, upside down.

“The body’s all set up here,” said the head.  Mean lookin’ guy, too.

“Thomas,” said the guy with the tusks.  “Here’s your job.  Up there…”  he pointed to the guy with the head, “is a hidden invisible room.  There’s a dead body up there, of an enemy soldier who we killed.  We want you to climb up this rope into the invisible room, and guard that body.  Whatever you do, don’t touch the red armor!  It will kill you if you touch it, understand?”

Thomas didn’t understand any of the rest of it, but that much was clear enough.  Don’t touch the armor.

“Once you’re up there, pull up the rope after yourself.  No one will see you, or be able to reach you.  Every so often, stick your head out just a little bit, and if we’ve come back, lower the rope.  

“I think I got that,” said Thomas.  If this wasn’t the strangest moment of his life, nothing was.

So Thomas climbed up the rope, and found himself in a plain little room made out of… well, made out of nothin’ as near as he could tell, and in the corner was a corpse in red armor, just like the tusked guy said.  Thomas pulled up the rope while the strange folk all started flyin’ away, and then he moved to the corner opposite the dead body and sat down, scratching his head.

Thomas had often dreamt of what true battle would be like, in those nights on the Balani Peninsula.  He had heard stories from the veterans, tales of horror, tales of glory, tales of pain and victory and blood and death.

He’d never heard anything like the story he was in just now.

* *

The Company is now converging on the Mud Zone from several directions.  In the main group, Dranko casts _prayer_ in anticipation of a battle.  The drizzle has stopped and somewhere above the haze the sun has come out; it is rapidly burning away the mist.  From somewhere ahead comes the sound of crackling electricity, followed by a tremendous bestial roar. Step gulps down a _haste_ potion on the fly.

The dragon comes into view, a massive shape silhouetted behind mist being roiled by monstrous wings.  The still _hasted_ Grey Wolf doesn’t waste any time – he launches two _fireballs_ through the haze at the dragon.  The fiery explosions burn away much of the remaining haze in the area, and reveal the monster itself more clearly.

Its body is a dull yellow color, and bigger than a large wagon.   Huge leathery wings sprout from its back, and each of its four claws has talons like daggers.  Its maw is like a thicket of swords.  

Around its neck is a huge red-iron collar, and in its eyes – madness.  From what little the Company knows about dragons they have expected a great intelligence, but this one looks more rabid than cunning.  A white froth is visible all around its gaping mouth.  But insane or not, it still emanates a tremendous wave of fear.  While the Company is not much affected, below on the ground, hundreds of soldiers on both sides are slogging as fast as they possibly can through the mud, fleeing in terror, thinking of nothing save putting as much distance as they can between themselves and the dragon above.

A humanoid form comes flying in from the other side and slashes at the dragon’s body, but the Company cannot tell who it is.  The dragon swoops up and around, turning on the arriving Company, and breathes a wide, hissing cone of electricity that catches Flicker, Dranko, Ernie and Grey Wolf.  The two rogues dodge gracefully and emerge unburned, but Ernie cannot avoid the lightning completely, and Grey Wolf takes the full brunt.  

Dranko decides to try getting onto the dragon’s back where (in theory) he would be less vulnerable to its claws and teeth.  He swoops in toward the creature’s back as it flies, but misjudges its speed and direction and bounces violently off its scaly hide.

Another humanoid figure appears, floating in the air nearby.  It is Matthias, High Priest of Pikon, who the Company thought had been killed by the enemy invisible mages.  Matthias gestures grandly, and in a booming voice intones:  “You shall have no victory here, foul lizard of Naradawk!  I shall smite you down with holy wrath!”  The dragon turns its neck to glance at Matthias, but after a second it turns away, focusing on the Company again.  Matthias continues to bellow threats.

Kibi fires off _magic missiles_ which bounce harmlessly off the glistening dragon scales.  Then the paladin of Pikon, Glade, flies in from the side to attack with her scythe.  She is struck hard by a claw as she closes, but recovers, swings her weapon, and scores a gash across its foreleg.  Ernie follows, but misses with a swing from Beryn Sur.  

Kay arrives from above, trailed by her four Yrimpa warriors, and with her magical war-hammer in one hand and her magical dagger in the other.  She flies down ready to swing but her arm is clipped hard by the dragon’s flapping wing.  She loses her grip on the hammer, and it goes spiraling down into the mud.  Her dagger strike is more successful, plunging in between scales.  three of the Yrimpa close to try bludgeoning the dragon, while the fourth flies down to retrieve Kay’s weapon.   Morningstar strikes the dragon with a _searing darkness_, but cannot tell if the beast is damaged.  Step flies in and swings his greatsword but it turns harmlessly against the dragon’s hide.  

Aravis, Attrius and Portia finally reach the battle, but they are greeted rudely by a _cone of cold_ that seems to come from nowhere.  The invisible mage who escaped earlier has returned at a most inopportune moment.  Aravis and Portia survive the blast fairly well, but Attrius is badly frozen.  Aravis orders Attrius to go get healing from Morningstar; the bodyguard reluctantly agrees.

The kingdom wizard Fulton arrives, and peppers the dragon with _magic missiles_.   Flicker decides that this would be a good time to try his _ring of blinking_, which (out of fear) he has not used for quite some time.  As he starts to blink in and out of the ethereal plane, he sees in the distance the black ethereal leeches that attacked him previously.  They don’t seem immediately interested in him, so he keeps the ring on and heads toward the dragon.

Aravis, fully loaded with spells and _hasted_, unleashes a pair of _sonic bolts_ at the dragon.  Everyone in the vicinity winces at the deafening sound, and the dragon roars in pain.  Its eyes roll madly in its head and foamy spittle sprays from around its maw. 

Kibi, still under the effects of a _see invisibility_, spots the enemy spellcaster flying in for another attack.  He flies himself in that direction, makes his best judgement concerning his target’s vector, and casts a spherical _wall of force_ in mid-air.  Success!  The flying sorceress flies smack into the _wall of force_ and finds herself trapped in a floating magical bubble.

Ernie retreats and heals himself with a _wand of cure serious wounds._  Grey Wolf flies around to put the force sphere between himself and the dragon, and then activates his _Mordenkainen’s Cube_ to cast _Mordenkainen’s lucubration_, recalling a _haste_ to replace the one that just expired.

Kibi watches with dismay as his trapped mage casts a spell and disappears.  He still can still _see invisibility_ so he assumes she has _teleported_ or _dimension doored_ out.

Finally the last combatant comes flying in to join the battle; it’s Royce, the leader of Fortune’s Children.  Those in the Company who see him notice immediately that none of his adventuring group is with him.  Royce flies in, swings his flail harmlessly at the dragon, and retreats.  One Certain Step flies in from the other direction and has more success, striking twice with his greatsword and opening bleeding gashes in the dragon’s flank.  The dragon flies upward, twists its body, and breathes another huge cone of electricity, engulfing Step and several others.  

The dragon is now in the center of a swarm of attackers – all of the surviving Charagan heroes are flying around the beast like a cloud of insects.   Kay flies in a strikes again with her dagger, while her Yrimpa buffet the monster with raw elemental force.  Dranko takes advantage of his flanking position to whip the great lizard with pinpoint accuracy, tearing off scales from its neck.  The wizard Fulton fires another volley of _magic missiles_.   And the flickering Flicker swoops in to attack with his short sword.

The dragon quickly twists around and chomps down on the approaching halfling, snatching him right out of the air in its jaws.  Only the _ring of blinking_ saves Flicker’s life.  The dragon finds itself chewing on something that keeps disappearing and reappearing in its mouth, so it can’t quite get a good bite down on the morsel.  

At least Flicker’s arms are free.  Wincing in pain, he digs around in his pack for a weapon long hoarded – a globe of _acid fog_.  He smashes it against one of the dragon’s teeth, and suddenly a quickly expanding cloud of solid green vapor envelops the dragon along with Kay and Dranko.  Aravis decides to fire off spells again anyway. (Something in the back of his mind warns that he might hurt his friends.  It stays there.)  Two more _sonic bolts_ are sent blasting into the fog toward where the dragon just was.  Dranko is hit by one and Kay by the other, but both also strike the dragon, which howls in agony.

Kibi starts turning in place, watching, waiting for the enemy mage to rejoin the fight.  There is an unexpected calm  in the battle, a few seconds where everyone stops, watching the roiling green cloud, waiting for something to happen.  Then the dragon flaps its way out of the top of the acidic fog, its scales scorched and smoking.  Flicker (smoking somewhat less due to his resistant armor) is still in its jaws, looking none too happy.  Everytime he blinks he tries to fly out of its mouth, but he never quite makes it, and the dragon keeps shifting him around between its jaws.  Morningstar flies around the acid cloud, endures a raking claw from the dragon, and heads right to its mouth.  She heals Flicker.  Looking up into its insane eyes and glistening fangs, she says out loud, “Well _this_ is one of the dumber positions I’ve been in.”

“And you’re not even married to Dranko yet,” calls back Ernie, completely unaware that he might be making an off-color joke. 

Step flies in next to Morningstar and also heals the grateful Flicker.   The child wizard Wellington launches a _fireball_ at the back half of the dragon, but fails to penetrate its natural resistance to magic.  Glade slashes again with her scythe but cannot pierce the scales.

Kay, annoyed with the giant cloud of acidic fog that’s now cluttering the battlefield, takes out her _wind fan_ and calls up a _gust of wind_.  Within a few seconds the billowing vapors are dispersed and blown away.  Once again everyone has a clear view of the madly-flapping dragon, Flicker in its teeth.

Dranko uses his healing wand on himself, needing it badly after getting struck full on by Aravis’ _sonic bolt_.  Fulton casts a _slow_ spell at the dragon that has no effect.   Alas, that failed spell is his last act on Abernia.  The invisible enemy spellcaster has returned, with an _acid orb_ fired straight into Fulton’s chest.  Horribly burned, the wizard’s body tumbles out of the sky.   Aravis yells to the kid Wellington.

“Can you see the wizard?  Blast it!”

“I can’t see anything!” shouts back Wellington.  “It must be invisible.”

Aravis curses, but it turns out well.  Kibi _does_ spot their invisible foe, and nails it with a _glitterdust_.  

“Hellooooo, target!” says Grey Wolf.  He shoots off two _ice knives_ at the enemy mage.

Like Dranko before him, Ernie gets it into his head to get onto the dragon’s back, but in preparation he drinks a _potion of spider climb_ first.

The dragon, badly wounded and sensing its peril despite its madness, flies straight up, taking Flicker with it.  Ernie shouts out “dragon-back express leaves any time now… who’s coming?”  Morningstar flies over to him.  Dranko heals Kay before she flies up in pursuit, and then flies himself over to join Ernie and Morningstar.  

And that puts them in a perfectly targetable cluster.  The glittering mage casts _cone of cold_, catching the three clerics, as well as Glade.  Miraculously all of them survive, though Ernie is badly frozen.

Aravis grins, and almost giggles.  Two can play at that game!  He finds an angle that won’t catch any of his friends, and casts his own _cone of cold_.  The enemy caster can’t get out of the way, has no resistance, and takes the full frozen blast.  Another body falls out of the sky.

Kibi pulls out a _fireball_ scroll and launches the spell at the dragon.  It explodes harmlessly, foiled by its spell resistance.  

“Here we go!” says Ernie.  He grabs Morningstar and Dranko and casts _dimension door_.  All three clerics are suddenly teetering precipitously on the dragon’s back.   Alas, it turns out not to matter.  Grey Wolf launches two more _fireballs_ from far below, and both of them penetrate the dragon’s resistance.  The dragon lets loose one last cry of pain before it blacks out, and begins to drop toward the ground far below.

Unfortunately, one of Grey Wolf’s _fireballs_ also catches the badly wounded Ernie, and he drops unconscious, still stuck to the dragon’s back as it starts to fall.  Morningstar makes a desperate grab, and by flying upward while holding onto the halfling, manages to peel Ernie away before he is borne downward.

Flicker is still in its mouth.  “Heeeeeeeelp!”

Quick as lightning, Dranko uncurls his whip and lashes downward.   All of his training as a lasher comes to the fore in this one crucial moment; the end of the whip curls around Flicker's waist.  The gods must be with him as well, because Flicker doesn’t blink out in those few critical seconds.   Dranko pulls hard, and Flicker is roughly torn out of the dead dragon’s slackened jaws. 

The dragon’s body turns end over end as it completes its fall, down, down…

Squelch!

The body of the beast sinks deep, deep into the mud.

...to be continued...


----------



## Lord Pendragon

> Aravis curses, but it turns out well. Kibi does spot their invisible foe, and nails it with a glitterdust.
> 
> “Hellooooo, target!” says Grey Wolf. He shoots off two ice knives at the enemy mage.




I've gotta know...was this an in-game comment?  I was lucky I wasn't sipping my soda when I read that. 

Awesome.  Simply awesome.


----------



## shilsen

Awesome combat description!

Is it just me, or is Thomas' story one of the coolest NPC cameos ever? It's great to see the heroes and war and magic which we take for granted in D&D from the POV of the average guy.


----------



## Caliber

Whohoo!  

Amazing battle. That battle sums up very nicely why I love this story hour. Team-work, a sense of humor, a sense of "Oh Crap, we're all gonna die!", its all here. 

So am I right in guessing this wasn't your usual spawn of Takhisis? (ie, not a Blackie, Bluey, Whitey, Redy, or Greenie?)


----------



## Shmoo

So did the clerics in the tent raise the fifth Yrimpa in time to fight with the dragon?


----------



## Ancalagon

cool fight!  I was worried with ernie stuck on the back of a crasing dragon...

I hope avaris' brain isn't TOO much broken...

Ancalagon


----------



## LightPhoenix

Shmoo said:
			
		

> *So did the clerics in the tent raise the fifth Yrimpa in time to fight with the dragon?  *




I noticed that too... maybe they regenerate?



			
				Ancalgon said:
			
		

> *
> I hope avaris' brain isn't TOO much broken...*




It sounds to me like some sort of Wisdom damage...


----------



## Piratecat

Ancalagon said:
			
		

> *I hope avaris' brain isn't TOO much broken...
> *




No, it's pretty broken. At the time, I think Aravis was suffering from something like -6 wisdom damage.  A really bad roll on a maze check damn near finished everything off, but thank goodness he managed to pull it through just in time. For the rest of the combat, he was.. err.. reckless.  Damn sonic lightning bolt. Ouchie.

It was a creepy fight, and a well-run one; combat never bogged down. Flicker was so close to being field-pizza. Most upsetting for our other doughty halfling, Ernie (while incredibly effective in the previous fight and very useful as support) never actually did any damage to the dragon! He was about to strike a decisive blow at the end of combat, but got caught in Greywolf's fireball. But - err - he isn't bitter. No, not at all.  And neither is Greywolf's food nowadays.


----------



## Sagiro

Shmoo said:
			
		

> *So did the clerics in the tent raise the fifth Yrimpa in time to fight with the dragon?  *



No, no, I just forgot how may there were when I wrote that part.  Yrimpa don't regenerate, and the fifth one was not _raised_.  I've made the appropriate corrections.

-Sagiro


----------



## Swack-Iron

Still an amazing story hour, and a most amazing fight. Congrats again to Sagiro and his whole crew on yet another masterpiece installment.

What's the average character level at this point? And for comparison, what was the age category of that dragon?


----------



## Vymair

I too loved Thomas's cameo.     It's little moments like that they make us truly realize how spectacular the heroes are...


----------



## KidCthulhu

The Thomas interlude was indeed a nice touch.  Very Tad Williams.

Memo to self:  Do not let the guy with the area effect spells develop a "what the hell" attitude.


----------



## wolff96

Caliber said:
			
		

> *So am I right in guessing this wasn't your usual spawn of Takhisis? (ie, not a Blackie, Bluey, Whitey, Redy, or Greenie?) *




I'm guessing -- and that's all it is -- that this was a Bronze Dragon that had been mind-controlled or driven insane. After all, it had a "huge red-iron collar" on and that's kind of been a trademark, given the red plate armor that seems to be common among the high ranking enemy soldiers.

The bronze would be a "dull yellow color" and their breath weapon is a line of lightning. There is a feat -- I think in Dragon Magazine -- that allows dragons to alter the shape of their breath weapon in exchange for an extra round or two of recharge time. That would explain the "cone of lightning" breath weapon.

Anyway, that's my guess.

------------------------------

Whether I'm right or not, though, that was an incredible fight!

I would like to know, if I could, how you guys ran an aerial combat without bogging down the game. That's tough!


----------



## Sagiro

To address the small backlog of questions:

- Regarding the promises for Mrs. Horn’s life, only Flicker’s and Ernie’s remain unfulfilled.   They are: 

*Ernest Roundhill,* though your Goddess is not one of the Travelers, still this charge is given with Her assent, and you must swear to it before Brechen and before Her should you wish Isabel Horn’s soul to be returned. 

Your charge is the least onerous of all given this day, but important nonetheless. You are charged to look to your own safety, to let wisdom always guide you through the dangers life will set at your feet. For in your veins, and no other’s, runs the true blood of a Wilburforce, and thus a link to the past is forged. Do not that lifeblood be spilt without reason! For before all is done, you must wear the circle, and you will come full circle, and only then can the Circle be broken. Promise to do your utmost to keep this appointment, as your part in bringing back the life of Isabel Horn. What say you? 

*Flicker Proudfoot,* there is a great weight now upon you, and only you may lift it free. It will never be for you to know, if by the action you almost took, you might have prevented the death of your comrade. But by action you might bring her back. Your cowardice is a cancer, and by the exercise of your skill and bravery you will burn it away. From this day forward you will forswear the sword, and use the talents your God gave you to help protect the lives of your comrades. In promising this, you will do your part in bringing back the life of Isabel Horn. What say you? 

(In response to his task, Flicker immediately left off accruing fighter levels and has concentrated entirely on improving as a rogue.  He has never announced that his task was formally completed, but I don’t recall that anyone has asked…)

- Regarding whether the natural weapons of a high-level monk would affect Null Shadows: yes, probably.  Since there are no monks in the party, I’ve never had to worry about it.

- Regarding what Tor has been up to: that would be telling!  

- Regarding the “life energy drain” that makes the Crosser’s Maze work: It’s straight XP.  My players don’t know exactly how many, though.

- Regarding Bostock: it started out as a +1 longsword that let the wielder not have to breathe.  It’s “upgraded” itself twice during play (as Grey Wolf uses it more), and now it’s a +3 keen longsword.  Despite the fact that it doesn’t detect as Evil, the entire party is freaked out about it.

- Regarding Grey Wolf’s comment of “Helooooo, target!”: yup, that was a direct quote from Grey Wolf’s player.  Piratecat wrote it down specifically on his round-by-round write up, it was so funny.

- Regarding the dragon:  it was an Adult.  And as for it’s type – well, Wolff96’s analysis is fantastic, but what I did was much simpler.  I just took some existing dragon type with a cone breath weapon (don’t even remember which type anymore) and replaced the damage type with “electricity.”  And gave it a skin color that wouldn’t immediately make the players think they knew what it was.

- Regarding the levels of the characters: they ranged from 9th through 12th at the time of the dragon fight.

- Regarding running an aerial fight: Usually in a combat where some creatures are flying and others aren’t, I put the flying miniatures on empty clear plastic dice cubes.  In this battle, where everyone was flying, I think I put pieces of paper beneath miniatures of characters that were flying particularly high – higher than the dragon, at least.  I didn’t sweat all the details of exactly how high people were… that would have been a nightmare.  When it mattered, I’d make some decision based on what the people involved were in the middle of doing.  

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

(oh, and here's a short installment)  

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 167*_

For hours still, the battle rages.

The Company and its allies regroup in the air above the body of the dragon.  Below them a hundred smaller skirmishes are rejoined as the dragon-fear subsides.  It’s still impossible to tell which side has the upper hand.

Dranko flies over to Royce who is hovering alone, staring at the horizon.  In answer to the half-orc’s unspoken question, Royce says quietly,

“They’re all gone.  Killed.  Dead.  That…wolf thing… it was too much for us.  Every time we killed one the rest grew stronger, and there were so many… so many.  One of them bit Brassel’s arm right off his body.  And Sparrow… my beloved Sparrow…”

“Aw, c’mon,” says Dranko.  “Morningstar is a powerful priestess of Ell.  If you ask, she can bring Sparrow back from the dead.”

Royce looks up at Dranko, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“No.  She has told me many times, that if she died she wanted to stay dead.  I argued with her often, but she was insistent.  No, she’s… gone.  Gone.  It hardly seems worth fighting now.”

“Look,” says Dranko.  “I’m sorry that your wife was killed.  But I’ll bet she wouldn’t have wanted you to stand here crying and feeling sorry for yourself.  There are still people down there fighting, and I’ll bet a lot of them have lost people close to them too.”

Royce looks up and stares daggers at Dranko for a moment before turning and flying away.  Ernie flies up to Dranko as Royce departs.

“Dranko, how about next time you let me comfort the grieving.”

“Er… yeah, I guess I should.  Damn.”

A few healing spells later and the Company is ready to go again, albeit with most of their magical resources spent.  But in the absence of other perilous threats, their new task is lighter on danger and heavier on glory.   They swoop down on a battle where fifteen Charagan soldiers are hard beset by a superior force Naradawk’s troops.  In short order the melee is turned into a rout, with allies cheering and enemies quickly deceased.  But before the grateful kingdom soldiers can finish heaping thanks and praise on the Company, the heroes again take to the sky in search of another battle to turn.

And so goes the day.

The carnage is terrible.  The sound of crows competes with the screams of warriors.  Everywhere are the bodies of fallen soldiers, hundreds upon hundreds.   Archers dart through the trees looking for stray arrows; their quivers are spent.  Healing tents are overwhelmed.   The miserable groans of the wounded fill the air.  

And yet, for the people of the Kingdom of Charagan, even among the injured it is a day of great joy.  By mid-afternoon it is clear that the defenses have held and that the enemy has failed, unable to bring forward a strong enough force.  Bloody and bone-tired, the Company surveys the battlefield from above and realizes that nowhere in sight is their assistance sorely needed.  The go back to where Thomas waits in the _rope trick_ and relieve him of his duty.  Then flying low above the trees they head back toward the Shadow Chaser.

En route Dranko pulls up short with a sharp intake of breath.  Below him through some gaps in the canopy he sees the tattered shreds of a Delioch healing tent.  Fearing the worst he descends, and seeing the worst, he mourns.   Fourteen clerics of Delioch lie dead including the skeptical Brother Nolman, who has died clutching a mace rather than a bandage.  Over twenty patients have also died.   Dranko curses as he looks for survivors and finds none.  Kay spends a few minutes examining the trampled ground, and guesses that the enemy must have appeared practically inside the tent itself.  Even with guards, the healers never had a chance.

Hardly knowing what to say, Flicker offers Dranko words of sympathy.

“War sucks.”

Dranko nods, tears in his eyes.  Together the Company resumes their flight to General Anabrook’s headquarters back in Verdshane. 

* *

There are signs that a ferocious battle took place at the Shadow Chaser as well.   Bodies are strewn thick on the ground, and among them are over twenty corpses of giant gnarled spiders.  The Company goes inside, where the chaos is barely more controlled.   Runners and advisors are coming in and out in a steady stream delivering reports to a cadre of colonels, who in turn make their reports to Anabrook.   Morningstar looks around and notes that there are bloodstains on the _inside_ walls of the inn.  

Minya comes out of the kitchen with a tray of water cups, but puts it down hastily when she sees Morningstar.  She runs over and embraces Morningstar in a crushing hug.  

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re alive!  I… I wanted to see you again, so I could thank you.  Those spiders that attacked us… they could disappear in one place and reappear in another.  That’s how they got inside my inn!  One minute we can hear the fighting outside, and the next thing I know there’s spiders in here with us!  I ran into the kitchen to hide but one of them followed me.  I tried hitting it with a frying pan but it was too quick and it… oh, it was horrid!  I almost passed out, and I would have died… I know I would have… but for that healing potion you gave to me.  Thanks be to you and your goddess, Morningstar.  A soldier came in soon after and spitted the foul thing, but that potion saved my life.”

Morningstar just smiles and returns the embrace.

Corporal Edridge approaches the Company, sporting a slight limp. 

“What more can we do assist?” asks Ernie.

“I think for now, the best thing you can do is stay here, help guard the Shadow Chaser.  If we get any reports we may ask you to go out again, but…”

He grimaces.

“…I think you’ve earned some rest.  Why I don’t see about getting you something to drink.”

Gratefully the Company sits down at a table, weary to the very core.  And through the afternoon and evening they continue to rest, listening as reports come in of victories, of prisoners taken, of comrades lost.  Before nightfall they retrieve the body of the red-armored woman and bring it to an upstairs storeroom, setting it carefully in a corner and finding a soldier to stand guard at the door.  

And one more piece of good news starts to make its way through the ranks of soldiers milling about.  It seems that some high-ranking officer (probably General Anabrook herself) received a _sending_ from the Balani Peninsula.  Two hours after Aravis erased the planar gate, the Delfirian forces down south started a rapid retreating action from dozens of their most forward positions.  It’s too early to tell if they’re giving up altogether, but the rumor is that the Bederen have presented such a large threat on the Kivian front that the Delfirians are being forced to withdraw from Charagan in order to defend their own kingdom.

Despite the chaos, the aching muscles, the sadness of loss and the elation of victory, none of the Company has any difficulty falling asleep that night.

…to be continued…


----------



## coyote6

I'm curious, who among the other adventurers survived? Three-fourths of Fortune's Children apparently died horribly (what were those wolf pack creatures they fought, anyways?) -- but what about Glade, Matthias, Fulton, and Wellington?


----------



## Caliber

I can't think of the name, but the party fought one way back in the day.

Every time one of the pack got killed, the rest absorbed its energy and got stronger, until there was only one big bad uber-wolf left.

Nasty monster all considered. The party learned about it around the same time they learned of the things that possess people (the Evil King that keeps bothering them. Remember?)


----------



## KidCthulhu

Ding! Ding!  Correct answer and 100 points to Caliber.  They were called the Seki, and they were one of the first of the Emperor's Free Monsters given away with Verdshane Cereal.  When we researched them, they were described to us in One of the Elish tomes "Seki, the Many who are One, and the Karch-din, the One who is Many".  Nice of our enemies to group themselves so nicely on the page, dontcha think?

The one Fortune's Children faced was *far* larger than the one the Company faced many years ago.  We feel a little guilty about it.  We knew it was there, and several times during the battle we said "Where now?  Should we go see about that Seki?" and we'd say "Nah, it's only a Seki.  Fortune's Kids can handle it."  Oops.


----------



## Sagiro

coyote6 said:
			
		

> *I'm curious, who among the other adventurers survived? Three-fourths of Fortune's Children apparently died horribly (what were those wolf pack creatures they fought, anyways?) -- but what about Glade, Matthias, Fulton, and Wellington? *



Glade, Wellington and Royce survived.  Fulton and Matthias were both killed by the enemy sorceresses.  (The appearance of Matthias during the dragon battle was actually an illusion cast by Wellington.)

Caliber is correct about the wolf-pack creature -- it was a Seki, albeit one much more powerful than the one the Company fought in their early days.  It's a sort of hive-mind wolf; when one of its bodies is killed, all of the rest of the bodies become more powerful.  I was all set to have the Company fight it, but instead they chose to assist Morningstar in Ava Dormo, and then go after the red-armored woman -- reasonable choices, certainly.  I won't publish all the stats here (in case the Company ever fights another one), but the Seki wolves gained a number of nasty abilities as their numbers grew less, in addition to getting better saves, better BAB, more HP, better natural AC, and better damage.

Edit:  I see that KidCthulhu and I posted simultaneously.  Great minds, blah blah.  

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 168*_

The Company wakes to the smell of bodies burned and unburned, as somewhere outside piles of corpses are being put to the torch.  (There isn’t time to bury all of the dead before disease will start spreading.)  Still, it’s a relief to the Company to discover that they have been allowed to sleep through the night with no interruptions for new emergencies.  They grab some breakfast downstairs where Minya is commanding a small army of servants in the kitchen.

Dranko mutters, “I still want to go back to Sand’s Edge and stick it to Fulton’s partner, that b*tch wizardess, Imperia.”  There’s not much immediate support in the Company for a return to that city, but Dranko figures it’s worth checking Fulton’s belongings.  He is disappointed to find neither magical goodies nor any useful correspondence to or from Imperia.  He returns to the room where the rest of the Company has gathered.

There, on the floor, is the body of their slain red-armored foe, dragged in by the others.

For a few minutes they examine the corpse, wondering how they’re going to get it out of the deadly armor so that Morningstar can cast _speak with dead_.   In the end it takes the lot of them about three hours, using a variety of kitchen and fireplace tools, but they manage it without anyone making physical contact with the armor.

There is a knock on the door, and Corporal Edridge enters.

“I just wanted to check in,” he begins, “since no one has… seen…  er…  there appears to be a somewhat-unclothed woman on the floor of your room.”

“We had to get the armor off so that Morningstar can interrogate the body,” says Ernie, smiling.

“I see,” says Edridge, unable to disguise his distaste.  “I trust you have the matter under control, and won’t need any assistance?”

“Actually I could use a drink,” Dranko says.

Ernie elbows him in the ribs.

“He’s not a servant, Dranko.”

“No, it’s no problem at all,” says Edridge, turning to leave.  “I’ll just leave you with your body, then, shall I?”

A few minutes later, while the Company is still debating what questions to ask, a servant comes in with a mug of ale.

“Hullo.  The Corporal asked me to bring this to… aaak!  A body!”

Startled, the servant drops the mug.  On instinct Dranko grabs his whip and lashes out, intending to grab the mug and yank it to himself with minimum spillage.  He’s too slow, misses the mug, and catches the servant in the cheek.  Clutching his face, the servant looks mortified.  The rest of the Company looks on in shocked silence.

“I’m sorry!  I’m so sorry!” says the servant.  “I didn’t mean t’ drop your drink like that… I just saw the…”

“No, I’m sorry.” Dranko interrupts.  “I wasn’t trying to hit you.  I was trying to use the whip to catch the mug before it fell.  I don’t blame you for dropping it.  Here.  Come here, and let me heal that up.”

The servant totters forward, glancing nervously at the woman’s body.  Dranko reaches out and heals his face with a quick orison.  The servant touches his healed cheek in wonder, and then reaches out his right hand. 

“Er, y’know, I’ve had a touch of stiffness in this hand for a few years now… I don’t s’ppose you…”

“Yeah, sure,” says Dranko.  Another spell follows, and the man flexes his hand.

“Glory be.  Well, I’m sure you know best about that body then.  Must be going.”

The servant scuttles out.

After some more discussion the Company settles on six questions to pose to the body.  Morningstar kneels by the corpse and casts her spell, while the others blanket the area around the body with various other spells (_bless, zone of truth, circle of protection, prayer, bane_) to help overcome any resistance the body might have to being questioned. There is sickening intake of air through the dead lungs, and the body reflexively coughs up bits of dark spittle.

Morningstar speaks.

*“What was Naradawk’s contingency plan if your attack failed?”*

The body wheezes, coughs again, and answers in a rasping vocalized whispers.

_“We were not going to fail.  If Naradawk had any plans beyond this battle, I do not know them.”_

*“Which other of your red-armored friends came to this plane with you?”*

_"Only Tarsos.”_

Damn.  So there’s one more red-armored servant to add to the list.  Before Morningstar can ask a third question, the body continues unexpectedly.

_"But he was *not* my friend.  That sanctimonious, patronizing, pint-sized piece of…”_

Morningstar cuts him off with the next question: *“What was Tarsos’ mission here?”*

_"I was not privy to his instructions.  I have no idea.”_

*"What was your mission?”*

_"I was to help clear out any resistance to Naradawk’s forces, and pave the way for his arrival.”_

*"Where is Octesian?”*

_"On Abernia”_.

Oh, _that_ was helpful.

Last question:  *"Where, specifically, would we be most likely to find Octesian right now?”*

_"Octesian was sent to Abernia years ago.  We’ve been on different Planes since then.  I have absolutely no idea.  Find him yourself.”_

The body slumps, spent.

Kibi goes downstairs and finds the Corporal again, to tell him that there’s another red-armored warrior on the loose – information that should be conveyed to General Anabrook without delay.

“Of course,” says Edridge dryly.  “And if he’s found, I’ll be sure to have the body sent to your room straight away for immediate stripping.”

Kibi looks properly offended as Edridge turns and leaves to make his report.

The party would like to _scry_ for Tarsos, but none of them know the spell.  Figuring that the boy wizard Wellington might, Dranko and Aravis go and knock on his door.

“Come in.”

They find Wellington seated on his bed, deep in study.

“Hey, how ya’ doing?” says Dranko, congenially.

“Studying,” says the boy.

“Yeah.  Well, there’s more to life than studying.  You should try leaving your room some time.”

“May I help you with something?” asks Wellington, a model of politeness. 

“Er…yeah.  We were wondering if you could Scry someone for us.”

“Of course,” says Wellington.  “Though it’s not one of my strengths.  I am not likely to succeed in finding someone I’ve never met, but I’ll certainly try.  I’ll just finish this chapter, and then I’ll need some time to prepare the spell for casting.”

“Yeah, great,” says Dranko.  “The whole kingdom is in mortal peril and all our lives hang in the balance, but you just finish that chapter.  We’ll be in our room.”

Wellington puts down the book quickly.

“The kingdom is again in danger?” he asks, startled.  “Have you told the General?”

“Well…”

“We must tell her at once!  You should have told me right away that this was a matter of such grave importance.”

“It’s not…”

“I must tell Glade.  Does Royce know?  I will start to prepare immediately!”

As Dranko turns red, Aravis sighs.  

“Wellington,” says Aravis, “Dranko’s exaggerating.  The world isn’t in immediate danger.  The guy we want to find is another red armored warrior from Naradawk’s army, but a few minutes isn’t likely to make any difference.”

“Oh.  I see.  Dranko, you shouldn’t make jests about such things.  Still, I will meditate and be in your room in fifteen minutes.”

As they leave Wellington’s room, Dranko mutters “That kid’s gotta get a life.”

A few minutes later Wellington comes in and, like the others, notes the body on the floor.  He peers at it for a moment.

“Ah.  You must have needed to cast a spell on the corpse.  Necromancy of some kind I presume?”

“_Speak with dead_,” answers Morningstar.

“Did you learn anything useful?”

“We learned about the man we want you to _scry_.”

“Ah, good.  So, where is the mirror?”

Various members of the Company look at each other sheepishly.

“Er…” says Aravis.  “Oh.  Yeah.  Actually we don’t have one. Er... do you?”

“No. I’m sure you know I cannot scry without a large and valuable mirror.”

“I’ll be there’s one back in our estates in Kallor,” suggests Grey Wolf.

“I can _teleport_ there right now,” says Kibi.  “And bring the mirror back with us.”

“I’ll be in my room studying then,” says Wellington.  The child walks out.

“That kid gives me the creeps,” says Flicker.

“Who’s coming with me?” asks Kibi.

Dranko volunteers.  Just before casting the _teleport_, Kibi casts a _familiar pocket_ for Scree, and puts on (of all things) a metal helmet.

“What’s that for?” asks Dranko.

“It’s my _Helm of Water Breathing_” says Kibi, smiling.  “Just in case.  Hold on.”

“Just in case?” cries Dranko in alarm.  “Now wait just a…”

In an eye-blink, they are back in the large Black Circle ritual chamber beneath the estates.  (That’s the only place that Kibi has “studied carefully,” back from when he figured out where to cast _walls of stone_ to preserve the structural integrity of the room.)

Both Kibi and Dranko feel the expected but still unsettling chill of Null Shadows.  While Kibi goes upstairs to retrieve the mirror from Cobb, Dranko walks slowly to the door of the room housing the shadow cauldron.  At the door, the unease grows stronger.  Dranko takes a deep breath, opens the door, and peeks in.

It’s still clear.  The room is awash in swirling shadows, and the cauldron still squats there in the center, but there are no Null Shadows in evidence.  Relieved, Dranko quickly closes the door.

While Kibi and Dranko are off retrieving a mirror, Ernie decides to go for a walk outside.  As he strolls along the main road he spies a newly built enclosure housing about thirty prisoners of war.  He approaches once of the nearby guards, who salutes when he sees Ernie’s royal uniform.  

“I’d like to speak with one of the prisoners,” Ernie says cheerfully.  “Do you mind?”

“You may do as you’d like, sir.  I suggest doing it from outside, though.  For safety purposes.  Sir.”

Ernie casts _tongues_, and gets the attention of one of the sullen inmates through the bars of the fence.

“Excuse me!” he calls.  “No, down here!”

One of the prisoners looks over, startled.

“I hope they’re feeding you well.” Ernie says.

The prisoner says nothing, but his eyes narrow.

“You know,” says Ernie, looking at the man, “I’ll bet you weren’t necessarily a volunteer in your army, were you.”

The man still says nothing, but another prisoner nearby whispers:  “Say nothing!  It is a trick!  And if the Emperor finds out you’ve talked with the enemy, it’s more than your life is worth.”

Ernie’s prisoner starts to sweat, and he puts his face up to the bars to talk with Ernie.

“I am honored to serve the Emperor, who is most wise and powerful and all-knowing.  My life is his.”

“I bet you don’t know this, but the Emperor isn’t coming anymore.  He can’t do anything to you, ever again.”

“He lies!” says one of the others.

“You do not know the Emperor,” says the prisoner.  “He will come here.  You cannot stop him.  And he will know my mind.  I must not speak to you.”

“I said, he’s not coming,” Ernie reiterates.  “I stopped him.  Really.  You should think about what you want to do with your life, now that your leader has been thwarted.”

“I don’t understand,” says the prisoner, shaking.

“Well, you could become a farmer, or pursue a craft, or probably join our army here.”

“No!  I cannot.  If I become one of you, then I become the enemy of the most great and powerful Emperor.  I will not be his enemy!  He would cross all worlds to destroy me if I make that choice.”

“I bet you’ll realize before long that your Emperor can’t do anything to you anymore.  You think about what I’ve said.”

And with that Ernie walks off, whistling a happy tune.  Behind him the prisoner, trembling, starts to weep.

…to be continued…


----------



## KidCthulhu

Spoiler



[No, really, major spoiler]



> I bet you don’t know this, but the Emperor isn’t coming anymore. He can’t do anything to you, ever again




D'oh.  Just D'oh.  Me and my big mouth.


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *
> 
> 
> Spoiler
> 
> 
> 
> [No, really, major spoiler]
> 
> I bet you don’t know this, but the Emperor isn’t coming anymore. He can’t do anything to you, ever again
> 
> D'oh.  Just D'oh.  Me and my big mouth.
> 
> 
> *





Spoiler



So, what you're saying is, that the reason halflings have such big feet is so that they fit ever-so-snugly into their large mouths?


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 169*_

Once the mirror has been successfully returned to Verdshane, Wellington attempts to _scry_ for Tarsos.  After all that trouble getting it, he fails.  He apologizes profusely and leaves dejected.

As the Company debates what to do next Edridge knocks on the door again, this time with a hand-written letter from General Anabrook herself.   He leaves without a single snide remark.

*“The Spire wishes to hold a convocation in two days’ time, at the Greenhouse in Tal Hae.  Please have the house prepared for a variety of Kingdom dignitaries.  – Gen. Anabrook.”*

The Company starts packing up immediately.  As they prepare there is another knock on the door.  It’s Wellington, and there is a letter in his hand.

“This says I’m to attend a meeting at your house on the day after tomorrow, and that you’ll be able to tell me where that is.”

“Ummm, do you, er, know about the Spire?” asks Aravis.

“Of course I do. The Spire is an organization comprised of Archmagi, a few powerful adventurers and mercenaries, and selected persons from the nobility and religious ranks.  They are charged with protecting Charagan, particularly in regards to arcane threats.  I hope to join it some day.”

All of the Company stare in amazement for a moment.  It’s strange to hear such a succinct and accurate definition.

“Well, uh, yeah, it looks like you have,” says Dranko. 

The half-orc thinks for a second, then adds, “Oh, and hey, Wellington.  I’m going to say a word to you, and I want you to repeat it back to me.”

“Ok.”

“Sharshun.”

Wellington blinks.  “Excuse me?  I’m sorry, but I didn’t hear you clearly.”

“Sharshun,” Dranko says again.

Wellington thinks hard for a moment.

“This is very strange,” he says.  “I know that you asked me to remember and recite a word, and I know I heard you speak the word.  But I cannot recall it, even now.  Why is that?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” the Company assures him.  And sure enough, the whole incident is gone from the boy’s mind a moment later.

Morningstar _sends_ to Eddings:  *Eddings, it’s Morningstar.  Do you know if Ozilinsh is okay?*

The response:  *No news.  I trust things are well in Verdshane?*

Morningstar _sends_ a second time: *Yes… we won.  Company okay, but many soldiers died.  We need to host a big meeting of the Spire at the Greenhouse in two days.*

Eddings: *Wonderful to hear of your victory.  I’d best start cleaning then.*

It turns out that Glade and Royce have also been invited to the Spire meeting.   While the Company works out the schedule of _teleports_ and _wind walks_ that will get everyone back to Tal Hae, Morningstar drops into Ava Dormo to check in with Amber.

There are still dreamers guarding the tower near Oasis, but there have been no further attacks.   Someone has cast _speak with dead_ on June, as Amber reports:  

“June has declined to be brought back from Ell’s paradise.  She died as a warrior in the service of her Goddess, and is content.”

All the arrangements are made to get everyone back to the Greenhouse.  In preparation for _teleporting_ himself, Wellington and Glade back to Tal Hae, Kibi once again puts on his helm.  When Wellington asks about it, Kibi answers, “Um, it’s just my lucky helmet.  I always wear it when I teleport.”

“Fascinating,” says the boy.  And he’s honestly fascinated.

Only when they have arrived safely at the doorstep of the Greenhouse does Kibi admit the helmet’s magical function.  

“Ah, of course,” says Wellington, nodding gravely.  “That way, if your spell goes awry and you have the bad fortune to land in the ocean, you could continue to breathe for several seconds before your dwarven bone density makes you sink far enough to be killed by the pressure implosion.”

Kibi splutters.

Eddings greets all the Company and the guests at the door.  The house is already prepared for the impending gathering of the Spire.  To pass the time Aravis and Kibi discuss the trading of spells to get _scry_ from Wellington.  To Aravis’ dismay, Wellington is mostly interested in improving his repertoire of illusion spells (Aravis’ prohibited school).  But eventually the boy agrees to accept _energy buffer_ from Kibi’s book, in return for _scry_.  The rest of the day is spent (for them) busily copying spells.  Dranko, still _wind walking_, flies to Tal Korum to check on his grandfather.  The old man is doing well, has started working again in his fields, and maintains a polite conversation with his grandson for the duration.  The mending of their relationship is well underway.

At last the day of the Spire meeting comes.   As before, the attendees arrive directly from Ozilinsh’s tower via the “crystal ball” room, and begin to descend the stairs.  The first guest to arrive is an old elf who the Company has not seen since their earliest days together – Fylnius, the elven Archmage of Ghant.  (Ernie recalls that the Blood Gargoyle’s attack on Ghant, which distracted Fylnius from his main task, was what allowed Octesian, Meledien and Restimar to slip through to Abernia.)  Fylnius – like all the guests – endures the standard light-in-the-eyes test to guard against the long-absent Soul Eater, King Farazil.  After Fylnius comes Duke Nigel, and then the leader of the Spire, the Archmage Salk.

At that point, Skorg, who is lurking in the kitchen, grabs Ernie’s attention.

“Hey Ernie,” he says nervously.  “I was just thinking, with all these important people here, maybe, you know, I should just be kind of out of the way or something.”

“Good idea,” Ernie agrees.  “Why don’t you head upstairs and just wait it out in your room.”

Skorg dashes out of the kitchen and up the stairs, and all in the Company wince as they hear the sound of two bodies crashing into each other.

“Oh, I’m really sorry,” they hear Skorg say.  “Here, let me help you up… oop… sorry again… why I don’t just let you…er… yeah…”

Ernie and Morningstar follow up the stairs, and are treated to the sight of King Crunard IV of Charagan smoothing his silk shirt.  His Majesty’s expression hovers between amused and annoyed.  Skorg has retreated into an upstairs room.

“I’m sorry, your majesty,” says Ernie. 

“New house servant,” says Morningstar.

“Ah,” says the king before heading downstairs to join the others.

Skorg pokes his head back out.

“I hope that wasn’t anyone too important,” he mumbles.

“Oh, just the King,” says Ernie.

“Er… the king of what, exactly?” asks Skorg.

“Of Charagan.”

“Oh sh*t!  That was _the_ king?  I knocked over the king of the whole _country?_  Oh my god!  I’m really sorry! Do you think he'll have me executed?  I’m really really…”

Morningstar propels Skorg back into the room, closes the door firmly, and then casts _silence_ on it.  She and Ernie go back downstairs to join the meeting.

Royce is looking happier than when they last saw him.  Dranko remarks on this fact, and Royce claps him on the back.

“I’ve spent a lot of thinking on the last thing you said to me,” he says.  “And more importantly, I’ve thought hard about Sparrow and what she would want.  She knew the dangers of the line of work we were in.  And we’re all in fate’s hands, after all.  I’ve spoken with the clerics of our Goddess Corilayna, and they know that Sparrow and the others have earned their places on the wheel of heaven.  I’ve got to get on with my life, and that’s what I intend to do.  Besides, if I just sulk, Sparrow’s ghost will probably come down here and kick my ass.”

After a few minutes the living room is fairly full.  In attendance are Duke Nigel of Harkran, King Crunard IV of Charagan, High Stormknight Dalesandro, High Priestess Cornelia of Pikon (promoted to that position after the death of Matthias), Yale (the king’s advisor), General Anabrook, the Archmagi Salk and Ozilinsh, Royce, Glade, Wellington, and all the members of the Company.

When all are seated, King Crunard stands up and walks to the front of the room.  He smiles and gestures expansively.

“My friends, we are gathered here in the aftermath of a great victory.  No doubt we have just witnessed the defining event of our age, and weathered the storm with our kingdom intact.  The great peril of the past millennium has been thwarted, due to the efforts and sacrifices of our citizens and heroes, some of the greatest of which are here in this room.  In particular, I would like to recognize two of our hosts – Aravis Telmir and Morningstar of Ell.  It was Aravis who made use of the Crosser’s Maze artifact to seal the Gate between our plane and that where our enemy is imprisoned.  I understand that this was no mean task, and it was the culmination of many long months of trial and training, not to mention a long and perilous quest to acquire the artifact in the first place.  He was the lynch-pin of our strategy, and he did not let us down.   

“Morningstar led a small army of Ellish priestesses in the Ava Dormo, the dreamscape, to blunt the second thrust of our enemy.  For while it is not widely known, Naradawk’s forces attacked a critical point of our defense in the dreaming.  Had Morningstar not led the resistance there, there’s no telling how many more enemy soldiers would have poured through at Verdshane before Aravis sealed off the Gate.  Our army was only barely the better of what it faced.  Another thousand soldiers would have tipped the scales in their favor.  Another two thousand and we would have been decimated.

“But there are many more who deserve praise in no less measure.  The whole company of adventurers whose hospitality we now enjoy, has already saved Charagan from one deadly threat.  It was not many weeks ago that they saved us from the hidden machinations of the Black Circle.  And now they have been instrumental in saving us a second time.

“Fortune’s Children, of whom sadly only Royce Tillman has survived, were instrumental in continuing to provide the archmagi with powerful artifacts to power their magics.  While Ozilinsh’s Company was seeking the Crosser’s Maze, the Children were making sure we had the wherewithal to keep the planar gate closed in the meantime.  Without the Shroud of Baynock in particular, the gate might have fallen months earlier.

“Wellington’s revolutionary astronomical calculations allowed for the solving of an old prophecy, from a book I am told is called the ‘Blood Inks of Imgur.’   As a result he anticipated an attack by magic-leeching creatures on Koenig’s tower in Yen Hae, which served as the anchor for the Demiplane in which the Archmagi did their work.  Were he and Glade not able to both discover and repel that attack, the kingdom would certainly have fallen.”

Wellington has turned a bright red at hearing his name spoken in such congratulatory terms by his sovereign lord.  Royce punches him in the arm, grinning.  The King smiles down at the child prodigy before continuing.

“General Anabrook here organized and executed the most unusual defensive battle in recorded Kingdom history, and was able to defeat a force that well outnumbered her own with a thrown-together force that had just come from an entirely different theatre.  It would not be a misstatement to use the phrase “military genius” in describing her.

“And finally there are the Archmagi themselves, wizards of power beyond the comprehension of the rest of us.  They have given centuries of tireless service to the kingdom.  Without them there would be no Spire, no Charagan.  They are the architects of our great victory.”

The Company expects that some report on the Archmagi’s health will be included, but none is given.  Ozilinsh looks fine, though, as does the old man Salk.

“But enough of the congratulatory indulgence,” says Crunard.  “I have even more good news to share with you.  The rumors of the Delfirian retreat are true.  They have accelerated their withdraw in the past two days.  The Bederen have gone past what we expected from them, and are pushing so hard on their Kivian front that the Delfirians seem to be abandoning Charagan to defend their own country.”

There is a pleased murmuring throughout the room at that announcement, and the king smiles again.   But his smiles slowly fades as he considers the next part of his speech.  Eventually, his expression somber, he goes on.

“Still, for all of our joy in victory, we should not forget the losses we suffered, and the sacrifices that were made.  Over two thousand soldiers were lost in the battle at Verdshane, added to the many hundreds who perished defending our lands against the Delfirians.  And the fighting has also claimed many of our best and strongest.  The High Priest of Pikon, Matthias Fieldstone.  Sparrow, Brassel and Bettany from Fortune’s Children.  The wizard Fulton, whose misdeeds we can forgive for his service to his kingdom.  And fourteen Dreamwalkers of Ell fell in Ava Dormo to one of Naradawk’s most powerful servants – their sacrifice bought our kingdom its victory.

“Lastly, as we feared, the Archmage Semek has died.  He did not survive the unmaking of the gate.”

Semek?  There is more murmuring.  Semek is known to most in the room only as the name from the seven polished obelisks that stand on the plains of Harkran.  The Mirrors of Semek.

“Semek is dead,” says Crunard, holding up his hand, “but at long last we can tell his tale.  Semek was one of the greatest of the Archmagi; in him was the wisdom of Salk, the intellect of Ozilinsh, and the foresight of Abernathy.  Nine hundred years ago he stood at Verdshane when Naloric Skewn, the original Emperor, forced his way back from exile.  In that battle many of our greatest heroes and wizards were killed before Naloric himself was slain.  One of Naloric’s most powerful servants, a demon from the very pits of hell, fled the battle when its master fell.  Semek, weakened and wounded, gave chase, knowing the terrible consequences of letting the demon run free.

“The Demon fled from Semek, to the standing stones known as the Mirrors.  We do not know how, but the demon used the Mirrors to flee into a Demiplane.  Semek pursued the hell-spawn even there, cornering the creature and finally defeating it.  There in that pocket of space, Semek pressed his foe, and the demon confessed Naloric’s contingency: that if Naloric died and the Gate were sealed, his son Naradawk would soon re-open it and return with a great army.

“Semek banished the Demon and returned to Verdshane, vowing that Naradawk would never come to Charagan.  He was the most knowledgeable among the Spire on the subject of Gates, and he offered himself as the focus of the magical energies that would keep the Gate closed.  He deduced what place on Charagan would prove optimal for such a focus, without interfering with the Gate itself.  Too close, and the magic needed to keep the Gate closed would rupture the fabric of space.  Too far, and even the most powerful spells would prove ineffectual.  The Archmagi tell me that his calculations would have taken anyone else years to come up with, let alone solve, but it took him less than two weeks.  He himself built an invisible tower and focusing chamber on the perfect spot, just outside the city of Oasis.   For nine hundred years he stayed there in a kind of suspended animation, his mind working to keep the Gate sealed.  Without him, it would have been more like five years.   We discovered early on that other concentrated magic in the vicinity could interfere with Semek’s task.   That is why it was made illegal for any mages’ guild to operate in Oasis, and why the reason for that restriction was never explained.”

With a wry smile, he adds, “I trust that has satisfied the curiosity of many in this room.”

The meeting adjourns for a few minutes while Eddings and Ernie make sure all of the guests have enough to eat and drink.

“You know what?” says Dranko.  “We should go back to the Mirrors on the next Flashing Day, and tell those crazy people in the Green Turbans, the Disciples of Semek, that they were right all along!  Of course, now that Semek’s dead, they’ll need someone else to worship…”

When everyone is settled down again, King Crunard stands up and continues.

“Despite our victory, and the fact that the kingdom is now safer than it has been in centuries, we cannot afford to become lax in our vigilance.  There are still many questions, many worries, many enemies.  Rosetta and Duke Nigel’s court wizardess went off on some secret mission “against Black Circle interests,” and has not returned.  We do not know where she is or what she is doing.  Likewise, Cencerra and her band have not returned from her investigation of the Gartine arch on Karth.  We know she is alive, but she is shielded from divinations and does not respond to _sendings_.

“There is also the troubling matter that powerful enemies fled the battle at Verdshane and are now at large in the kingdom.  We know from Morningstar’s interrogation that at least one of these is a red-armored warrior named Tarsos.   And speaking of the Emperor’s servants, there was no sign of Meledien at the battle at all.  She too is still at large.  Worst of all is the existence of Parthol Runecarver, once one of the great Archmagi of the Spire.  He knows we watch for him, and fears to show himself openly, but he still represents a nearly unimaginable threat.  Finally, we know that the Masking continues to erode, and that some Masked things might be coming back into the world following Naradawk’s recent push.  We must not become complacent.  We in this room must continue to stand between the citizens of Charagan and the dangers that beset them.  For while the dangers may not be as great, our ability to defend ourselves is not what it once was.” 

King Crunard glances at Salk, the elderly spokesman for the Archmagi.

“It’s time,” whispers the king.

Salk stands slowly and walks to the front of the room to stand beside Crunard.  He carries a large silken pouch that jingles slightly.

“This bag contains some of the kingdom’s most treasured magical devices,” says Salk, his voice scratchy but still full of authority.  “We have oft debated using them in recent years, but they only work once, and the secret to their forging is lost.”

He reaches into the bag and pulls out a handful of plain brass rings.

“I want everyone here to put on one of these.”

The bag gets passed around, and everyone does as instructed.

“The magic of these rings,” says Salk, “is that anything you hear while wearing one cannot be gleaned from your mind by any sort of divination magic.  Nor can you be compelled by magic to repeat anything you have heard.  I am now going to share with you a secret that you should all know, but which our enemies must never learn.”

Everyone leans a bit closer.

“In order for Aravis to use the Crosser’s Maze, he had to tap directly into the life energies of the Archmagi.   I’m afraid that the… strain… was extreme.   As a result of that use of our power, all of us… all of the Archmagi… are extremely weakened.   Although we still retain our knowledge and experience, we have lost the power that we once had.”

“As weak as us?”  Ernie cannot help but ask.

Salk looks at him sadly.

“Much.  Weaker.”

Aravis goes pale.

“Weak enough,” says Salk, “that we can no longer defend our kingdom in any meaningful way by the might of our wizardry.  But understand that we gave what we did knowing what the cost might be.  And we did it in the fulfillment of our life’s work.”

He says this while looking straight at Aravis, whose whole body trembles at the thought of what he has done.

“I… I never intended for that to happen,” says Aravis.  “I hope you can forgive me.”

“Aravis,” says Salk gravely.  “When we regained consciousness in Koenig’s Demiplane and realized what had happened, we spent some time trying to decide what we would say to you when we met.   It was a difficult discussion, and there was much we wanted to say.  But in the end we decided that simpler was better, and our message is thus: thank the Gods for you Aravis.  Thank the Gods that you did what had to be done.”

Aravis looks back blankly, and nods.

“Oh, don’t look so glum,” says the Archmage Fylnius, smiling.  “I’m quite looking forward to a nice retirement, and not having so much responsibility all the time.  It’s been centuries since I had any free time.  I’m thinking of taking up botany!”

The tension is broken, and the assemblage laughs.

“But what about Cranchus?” says Kibi, raising his voice above the laughter.  “He was an Archmage too, right?  He wasn’t there in the Demiplane.  Does that mean he didn’t have his life energy drained?”

Everyone grows quiet again as Salk answers.

“You are correct, Kibilhathur.  Cranchus was not with us.  While long ago we bestowed on him the title of Archmage and admitted him the Spire, he was never truly one of us.”

Kibi frowns.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong.  He has been a valuable ally.  He has given us advice and wisdom over the years without which we could never have held out so long against Naradawk.  But his magics were not… compatible with ours, and he always remained aloof and mysterious.  _He_ would contact _us_, when the mood took him, or he had something important to share.  Even before Semek built his tower he did not leave his home, and never invited any of us to visit.  I confess that in most ways that matter he is beyond our understanding.   You are right.  Cranchus is presumably still as powerful as ever.  But we have not heard from him in years, and he is beyond our reach, and it does no good to count on him.

“You may not wish to admit it, but you sitting here in the room are now among the most powerful citizens of this kingdom.”

Many jaws drop at the notion.

“Holy crap,” Grey Wolf mutters under his breath.  “We’re doomed.”

“Now, I’ll need you to take off your rings when I say so.  But listen very carefully.  Once the rings are off, do _not_ discuss this matter with anyone, or even talk about it among yourselves.  That can erode the magic.  Too much talk and it will again become possible for someone to divine what you have just learned.  Am I clear?”

Everyone takes off the rings and hands them back to Salk.  The old wizard walks back to his chair and sits down again, and again King Crunard stands.

“In celebration of our great victory, there will be a kingdom-wide festival one week from the day that the Gate was closed.  It will be known as the Day of Sealing. To the masses, the explanation will go that the battle at Verdshane sealed the victory against a number of the Kingdom’s foes, including the humanoids and the Delfiri.  But to the cognoscenti it will always have a truer meaning.

“As a final note, I would ask that those heroes here who fought at Verdshane please remain here.  Some enchanted items found on the battlefield will be brought along shortly that you may divide among yourselves.  You may consider them well-deserved spoils of war.

“And that is all.  Ladies, gentlemen, may the Gods of our Kingdom continue to show us favor.  This meeting is adjourned.”

…to be continued…


----------



## dpdx

And that, dear friends, is the after-party to end all after-parties.

Amazing. This Story Hour elevates the game.


----------



## Swack-Iron

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *[I“And that is all.  Ladies, gentlemen, may the Gods of our Kingdom continue to show us favor.  This meeting is adjourned.”
> 
> …to be continued… *




...and what a journey it's been for all of us breathless readers to bring us to this point. I can't wait to see what happens next! Congrats to Sagiro and the whole crew on a fine job so far.

And Sagiro, you're really starting to spoil us. All these rapid-fire updates are making me giddy!


----------



## RangerWickett

*hugs Sagiro*

So, how many XP did you have to spend to craft this masterwork D&D campaign?


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## Fade

Somehow, I have the funny feeling that Naradawk hasn't given up yet...

It's wonderful to here about all the other plots that were foiled, equally capable of collapsing the kingdom, that the Company didn't even know about. They aren't the only fish in this pond.


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## Enkhidu

> “You may not wish to admit it, but you sitting here in the room are now among the most powerful citizens of this kingdom.”




This is perhaps the best transition I have seen for PCs to go from low level play to high level play - its not just about the levels, its about the responsibility.


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## Memory

I've been lurking on this thread for quite a while, and this seems like an appropriate time to chime in on what a great campaign this is.  I've really enjoyed reading your write ups.

Just out of curiosity, how close to caught up are we with this update?


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## Artoomis

I sure do enjoy reading this!!  

A comment on Speak with Dead:



> Someone has cast speak with dead on June, as Amber reports:
> 
> “June has declined to be brought back from Ell’s paradise. She died as a warrior in the service of her Goddess, and is content.”




Was this an error of assumption from a PC or NPC?  Speak with Dead does not speak with the dead person's soul in Ell's paradise, but "the corpse’s knowledge is limited to what the creature knew during life."

I suppose June's corpse could know that June did not wish to be raised if she died well.

The thing that is really interesting here is that a Speak with Dead may reveal what the person's intentions _were_ regarding being raised, but only a raise dead (or other bring back from the dead magic) can reveal if they _truly_ wish to be brought back.  Thus, a Speak with Dead could reveal the exact opposite of the true desire.


----------



## Sagiro

Artoomis said:
			
		

> *...I suppose June's corpse could know that June did not wish to be raised if she died well...
> *



I have always figured that people killed in battle a) are aware of the circumstances of their own deaths, and b) probably had decided going in if they would want to be raised or not.  Therefore, you can get a pretty realiable answer from a corpse on the subject.  The two ways you could get a wrong answer would be:  a person expected that their soul would go to heaven, but it didn't; or they reached the afterlife and found that it wan't anything like (or as good as) what they expected.

For purposes of dramatic license, let's assume that neither of these things were true in June's case.  

-Sagiro


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## Sagiro

Memory said:
			
		

> *I've been lurking on this thread for quite a while, and this seems like an appropriate time to chime in on what a great campaign this is.  I've really enjoyed reading your write ups.
> 
> Just out of curiosity, how close to caught up are we with this update? *



I'm always happy when lurkers de-lurk to say nice things.    I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

The story hour is (I think) three runs behind, and is about to become four runs behind since we play again tomorrow.  

-Sagiro


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## Enkhidu

Artoomis said:
			
		

> *IA comment on Speak with Dead:
> 
> 
> 
> Was this an error of assumption from a PC or NPC?  Speak with Dead does not speak with the dead person's soul in Ell's paradise, but "the corpse’s knowledge is limited to what the creature knew during life."
> 
> I suppose June's corpse could know that June did not wish to be raised if she died well.
> 
> The thing that is really interesting here is that a Speak with Dead may reveal what the person's intentions were regarding being raised, but only a raise dead (or other bring back from the dead magic) can reveal if they truly wish to be brought back.  Thus, a Speak with Dead could reveal the exact opposite of the true desire. *




'Course, Sagiro could have simply Rule 0'd Speak with Dead.


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## Artoomis

Well, not to beat a dead horse (pun intended), but if I wanted a _really_ reliable answer I'd ask directly, through Raise Dead (or similar magic).  After all, until you get there, no one knows what paradise is really like, or what advice beings who live there might give the dead person.  They might just tell you to go back - a different opinion than what that person had when alive!

In this case it's a  dead issue (pun intended), I suppose, unless Sagiro wanted to through in something new .


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 170*_

A few minutes after most of the Spire has left the Greenhouse, a pair of soldiers comes to the door bearing a large pile of labeled magic items.  It’s a collection of the magical loot found around Verdshane after the battle, sent to be divvied up among the surviving adventuring types.   There is some brief discussion about how to most fairly split up the swag.  Royce says he only wants a weapon, since he is fairly well festooned with magic items following the demise of his adventuring group.  He takes a +2 ghost touch halberd and is satisfied.  Glade and Wellington alternate with the Company in choosing from the remaining stuff, with the Company getting some extra picks due to its larger size.  The paladin and the kid come away with a wand of _keen edge_ with 16 charges, a brooch of shielding (51 points of protection remaining), and three potions – _tongues_, _blur_ and _protection for elements: cold_.  The Company gets a pair of goggles of night; 4 beads of stillness (each is like a one-charge metamagic rod with the _still spell_ feat); a permanently-enchanted +3 arrow of distance; an arcane scroll with _stone to flesh_ and _repulsion_, a divine scroll with _neutralize poison_, _water walk_ and _inflict serious wounds_; a potion of vision (+10 to search checks for an hour); and (in Dranko’s opinion) the cherry on the magic item sundae:  a ring of djinn summoning.

Glade and Royce take their leave of the Greenhouse; Wellington stays behind, to continue scribing Kibi’s _energy buffer_ spell into his book.   A few minutes are spent portioning out their new magical goodies.  When they’re done, they sit back and… and… 

The members of the Company look around the Greenhouse and at each other.  

There’s nothing to do!

“I think it’s obvious what we do now,” says Dranko after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah?” asks Grey Wolf.

“Yeah,” answers Dranko.  “We just won the frikkin’ war, and we’re some of the most powerful heroes in the kingdom.  Let’s go drinking!”

“A fine idea,” agrees Grey Wolf.  “I’ll buy.”

So our heroes head out through the city.  It is strangely empty for a beautiful autumn evening, as all of the men who served in and around Verdshane (and survived) won’t return for many days.   Those that they pass on the street are clearly glum, nervous, expectant.   There has been no official word that the war is over and won, and the typical commoner fears the worst. 

The Company chooses an upscale tavern and restaurant called the Duke’s Footprint, a place that long ago they heard was a favorite dining choice of Sagiro Emberleaf.   A stiff, frowning man greets them at the door.

“How many I help you?”  he asks politely.

“We want food, for, er…nine,” says Dranko.  “And hey, cheer up.  We won.”

“Won what, sir?”

“The war.  Well, we won in Verdshane, and I hear we’ve got ‘em on the run down south,” Dranko says.

“Ah.  Well, I’m sure you would know,” says the greeter, not believing a word.  “Let me show you to a table.”

“Really,” says Dranko, as the Company is led inside.  “It’ll probably be made public in the next day or two.  Then I’ll come back and you can apologize for not believing me.”

“Right this way.”

The Company proceeds to eat, drink, and get merry.   With the exception of Morningstar and One Certain Step (and maybe Aravis – it’s hard to say), all of them get progressively more and more drunk, to the point where everyone is trying to steal steaks off of each others’ plates, and Ernie even starts making rude jokes about Dranko’s tongue.  Step, bemused, turns to an exasperated Morningstar.

“I don’t understand,” he says gravely.  “Everyone gets their own steak.  I do not see the need to also eat someone else’s.”

Morningstar shrugs.  “I’m thinking of attending midnight mass at my church tonight,” she sighs.  “The sisters there don’t trust me, but at least they’ll be sober.”

Step turns back to his steak to find that Flicker has stolen it.  The Paladin of the Sun Goddess looks at Morningstar.  “Midnight mass?  I think I would be glad to accompany you.  But while I would happily escape the company of our friends, I also fear to leave them unguarded in their current state.”

Dranko tries again to convince someone that they won the war, this time the shy servant woman, Arla, who’s bringing out wine, meat and apple pie.

“Really?” she says, eyes wide.  “Did you see my brother?  His name is Robert, and he looks something like me, though taller, with red hair and a neat mustache.”

“No, we didn’t,” says Ernie.  “But there were a lot of people there.”

“Oh, I do hope he’s all right,” says Arla, wringing her hands.

Around ten o’clock the Company stumbles out of the Duke’s Footprint, smashed and laughing.  

“Where to now?” slurs Ernie?

“What about that church service at your temple?” Aravis asks Morningstar.

“I’m not bringing them there in this state,” she answers.  “Perhaps a small service at the Greenhouse before bed.”

“Greenhouse?” says Dranko.  “I’m not going home yet.  The night is young!  Flicker!  How about we head over to your parents’ place?”

“Great idea!” answers Flicker, wobbling a bit.  “To the Smoke House!”

The collectively stagger through the streets of Tal Hae.

A few blocks down, Kibi notices someone watching him.  He turns around, but… no one is there.  Damn, he thinks… too much wine.  But no, someone _is_ watching him.  He can feel it.  He doesn’t know who, or from where, but it’s sudden and unsettling.

“Er… guys?  Guys?” he says.

“What’s up, Kibi?”

“I’m being watched.”

“Where from?” asks Dranko.

“I don’t know.  I just sort of feel it, in my head.  Someone’s watching me.  I know it.”

Dranko immediately hits himself with a quick-sober orison. 

“Oooooh,” he says, clutching his head for a moment.  “Now I’ll need to get drunk all over again.”

But thinking clearly now, he fires off a _detect magic_, looking all around Kibi for signs of a _scry_ sensor.

He detects nothing.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks.

“Yeah.  It’s… well, I don’t know what it’s like.  But someone, somewhere, is watching me.”

Dranko scrambles up a nearby building and surveys the surrounding rooftops.  He sees no one.

“Hey, it stopped!” says Kibi.

With nothing else to do about it, the Company continues on the Smoke House, the tavern and inn run by Flicker’s parents.  By the time they arrive, most of them have forgotten all about Kibi’s mysterious watcher and are ready for more alcohol.  Flicker stumbles through the door and waves at the people he knows.  Dranko realizes that Flicker is about to make a fool out of himself in front of his parents.

“Flicker, you’re drunk as a skunk.  Here.”

He hits the halfling with another quick-sober orison.  Flicker splutters, grips his head, and turns angrily on Dranko.

“Why in the Gods’ name did you do that?” 

“I didn’t want your parents to see you drunk,” says Dranko, taken aback.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Dranko!  My parents run a frikkin’ _bar._  You think they care if I’m _drunk_?  Hey dad!  Over here!  I need a drink in the worst way.  Hey, make it one for everyone, on me!”

Flicker’s father comes over himself with a large tray of drinks.

“You’re in a good mood this evening, Flicker.  Have any good news?  We could all use some these days.”

“You bet!” says Flicker.  “We won the war!”

“You _what?_”

“You heard me.  We were there.  Isn’t that right, guys?”

“Darn right,” says Dranko.  “We were there at Verdshane.  We fought there.”

“We kicked Naradawk’s ass,” adds Ernie.

“Hard,” says Grey Wolf.

“And it sounds like the Delfirians are retreating down south, too,” says Flicker.  “I’m sure you’ll hear it officially soon enough, but we won!  The war is over!”

Flicker’s father jumps up on a table, which causes everyone to quiet down.

“Attention everyone,” he says to the assembled patrons.  “My son and his friends just came back from Verdshane.  The war is over, and we won!”

The place goes berserk, and before another hour has passed, halflings are dancing and singing in the Smoke House as they haven’t in many long weeks of worry.  It’s long after midnight when the Company staggers homeward to the Greenhouse for bed.

* *

Kibi is the last one still awake.  He’s not so sloshed as the others; his dwarven constitution gives him a higher tolerance for his liquor.  He’s thinking about that feeling of being watched, how unnerving it was.  It was like nothing he had ever…   

It starts again.  It’s in the room, watching him.  It’s inside the Greenhouse!  He shouts in alarm.  

“Hey!  Guys!  Help!  I’m being watched again, right now!  Hey!”

Dranko is the first to arrive.  He’s still plastered, but has a sudden insight.

“I bet I know what it is.  I bet it’s Cranchus, spying on you.  Who else but an Archmage could watch you inside the house?  Here, this’ll make him stop watching.”

To Kibi’s utter horror, Dranko drops his pants.  He waggles his backside around, mooning “Cranchus,” wherever he might be.

The others arrive a moment later, to find out why Kibi was calling for help.

Ah.  That’s why.  Dranko seems to be… er…

“Dranko!” says Ernie.  “Put your pants on this minute.”

“I’m mooning Cranchus,” Dranko explains.

“Blinding him, more like,” mutters Grey Wolf. 

“And do you think that’s a _smart_ thing? asks Morningstar, rolling her eyes.

“Er… I guess not…”

He pulls up his trousers.

“Hey, if an Archmage was watching, I’ll apologize later, I promise.”

“There aren’t any Archmagi left,” reminds Kibi.

That sobers everyone up quick.

“Kibi!” the rest of the Company shouts almost as one.  “Shhhhhhh!  We don’t talk about that, remember?”

Realizing his gaffe, Kibi turns a bright red.

“I… um, sorry.  Oops.  Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.  Anyway, as horrible as it was seeing Dranko’s bum, that wasn’t why I called for help.  I was being watched again.”

“Here?” asks Aravis, alarmed.  “In the Greenhouse?”

Aravis casts _detect magic_ and Morningstar casts _detect thoughts_, but neither of them pick up anything unexpected about the house, its magical wards, or the people inside.  With nothing else to do, everyone goes back to sleep.  Morningstar watches Kibi’s dreams later that night, and discovers that the dwarf is dreaming of being watched, by two small white pinprick eyes.  It’s creepy.

* *

The next morning the Company wakes to the sound of a town crier out in the street – news of the kingdom’s victories is at last being made public.  Notices are being posted on the doors of shops that a victory parade and festival will be held two weeks hence.  

Aravis wakes to find that he is idly scratching an itchy spot on his foot .  He glances down to see that he has developed some sort of rash.   He yawns, gets up, dresses, and goes in search of a cleric.  Dranko prays for a _cure disease_, and the rash is healed.   That seems innocuous enough, but Morningstar finds that she has a similar rash, on her elbow.  As with Aravis, a _cure disease_ takes care of it.  They discuss the most likely causes, and decide that they must have picked up something in the forest during the battle.

After breakfast Kibi goes down to the basement to get working on his _vest of dwarf preserving_, a magical vest that will combine the effects of _water walking_ and _familiar pocket_ as a safety measure for himself and Scree in the event of a teleportational water landing.   After about an hour of work he realizes that he’s being watched again.  He looks around curiously, but again no one is there.

“Er… hello?”

Nothing.

“I’m just working on this vest,” he explains to the watcher.  He holds it up.  “Teleporting in an island kingdom can be risky.”

Nothing.

“I’ll just get back to work then, ok?”

For another few minutes he senses eyes watching him – two small white eyes.   He calls for Morningstar, who casts _detect thoughts_ on him again.  Nothing unusual is discovered.  Kibi tries not to become unnerved, and eventually the eyes stop their strange scrutiny.

For the next couple of days the Company takes care of random business.  Morningstar arranges for Swan to deliver a full report on the Dreamscape battle to the High Priestess Rhiavonne.  Ernie is asked (not surprisingly) to help out in the kitchens at the temple of Yondalla, as they prepare for the upcoming festival day.   He invents a new spicy cookie recipe which he dubs “Nifi Cookies.”  Dranko returns to the home where he first lived after leaving the church, a run-down rental unit still presided over by his old landlady, Berthel Jugglegut.  In a fit of overwhelming charity he pays off her own rental of the house for the next fifty years, assuring that she’ll never want for anything again.  She is overwhelmed by the gesture, and celebrates with a bottle of traditionally cheap wine that Dranko has thoughtfully provided. 

Also during this time, Aravis again finds he has contracted a spot of rash.  Suspecting something sinister, Kibi casts _detect magic_ and discovers that the irritation is faintly magical.  Hmmm.  Just to be on the safe side, she casts a _sending_ to Corporal Edridge.  *Edridge, it’s Morningstar.  We are experiencing a slightly magical rash.  Anyone else in Verdshane having trouble?  It’s dumb, but we’re checking.*.  

The reply:  *No, no rash outbreak.  Perhaps you contracted it from that corpse in your room?  Will inform Anabrook, just in case.*

* *

On the 17th day of September, a small box is delivered to the Greenhouse, along with a fancy parchment bearing the royal seal.  Ernie gathers the Company together in the living room and reads the scroll.

*To the occupants of the Greenhouse, a.k.a. Abernathy’s Company, Ozilinsh’s Company, and the Heroes of the Kalkas Peaks:

By the decree of His Royal Majesty, King Crunard IV of Charagan, you are hereby granted full deed and title to Longtooth Keep*, Hill-fort of the Norlin Hills.   A sum of five thousand gold crowns will be made available to assist you in the rebuilding, maintenance and upkeep of the Keep; this money can be collected at the bursary of Hae Kalkas.  

The Keep and its properties shall be your collective and autonomous responsibility; in addition to the grounds within its outer wall, it encompasses all land within one mile of its center, including all roads, way stations and guard-posts.  Right of Taxation still falls to Lady Rose Wymar of Hafast, and although Longtooth will not fall under her direct political or economic influence, you will be expected to maintain a mutually agreeable relationship with the local nobility.  

Also, it has been decided that a new Rank and Order shall be created within the Kingdom of Charagan, in recognition of services rendered both past and future.  These persons shall be titled as members of the Spire Guard.  As such, their responsibilities are: to protect the Kingdom from all known threats of an unusual or arcane nature; and to investigate possible sites or occurrences that could comprise or become such a threat.  

Herein is official notice that Spire Guard titles are hereby conferred upon: Sir Ivellios Forester; Dame Morningstar of Ell; Sir Flicker Proudfoot; General Kay Olafsen; Sir Dranko Blackhope of Delioch; Sir Ernest Roundhill of Yondalla; Sir Kibilhathur Bimson; Sir Aravis Telmir.  One Certain Step, in light of outstanding service, is granted similar rank and title for as long as he wishes to maintain residence within the borders of Charagan.  

Know that these same titles have also been conferred upon: Sir Royce Tillman; Dame Glade Silvermorne; Sir Wellington Chandler; Sir Jerzembeck Fletcher; Dame Junaya Fletcher; Sir Cavrius Smith; Sir Keez’k’r Red-tooth; Dame Wynalda Farrier; Sir Attrius Cromwell; Dame Portia Oakshade. 

All insignia and documents accompany this letter.

With great appreciation and thanks,

His Royal Majesty, 
King Crunard IV of Charagan*
 

There is much rejoicing.

…to be continued…

* The Company has visited Longtooth Keep once before.  It was there that they fought a skeleton being animated by one of the Eyes of Moirel (one of the Eyes now in the basement of the Greenhouse).  It was there that Sagiro Emberleaf seemed to meet his end.  And it was there that the Eye-in-skull uttered the surprising words: "Ernest, how nice to see you again."  Then to Kibi: "Bimson, my regards to your Grandfather."


----------



## Fade

Isn't there a little matter of a 'list' the Company have to be getting to?


----------



## Nail

dpdx said:
			
		

> *Amazing. This Story Hour elevates the game. *



I couldn't agree more.  Great stuff!

...although the magic item list seems a bit light.  No complaints, though!


----------



## Wolfspirit

Heh, I would rejoice at the titles, but not the keep.  Maybe I'm just cynical and paranoid, but a) it's a responsibility, b) it's a vulnerability, and c) it's a plothook.

They've now got to be responsible for the running of a *keep*. I'm betting a good part of that money is going to be put into hiring some people to care for it, especially the day to day type stuff.  And since they can't tax, all that money will be comming out of pocket eventually.  Yeah, they got 5k, but that might go quick, depending on what happens there in the near future.

They've also got a nice "hit me" sign.  The Greenhouse is pretty much as safe as you can get, but if the party starts spending time there, their enemies will eventually know.  Also, they're going to have to split time between world saving and making sure the keep is safe.  I guess with their teleportation abilities at this point it's not such a big deal, but it might be a concern.

The most scary thing is that the DM *gave* them a keep.  A keep with history, and is near where one of their enemies *supposedly* died.  I'd be nervous.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Quotes from the night of drunkeness:

"I bet I could grab your steak from 10' away with my whip."-Dranko
"And I'd take it back with _Mage Hand_." - Greywolf
"I could roast it from 400 feet." - Aravis

"And I could ward mine with _Searing Darkness_ - Morningstar
[this was followed by wary silence.  Morningstar is proclamed the winner of the steak standoff.]

"Ernie, you should cook more steaks." - Flicker
"Yeah, we should fight more cows!" - Ernie

"Did I tell you that the Emperor is much more powerful than that dragon we fought?" - Aravis (for the fourth time)
"Well, duh.  'Cuz if the dragon was the Emperor, he'd be wearing a little crown" - Ernie

It was really a silly run.  We, the players, were practically tipsy with relief and triumph, so role playing drunk was pretty easy.  But, as Aravis said, we had to do _something_ during the session, because he wasn't going home to his wife and telling her we'd spent 5 hours pretending to be drunk.


----------



## Piratecat

Not only that, but we've got two or three big mansions back in Kal Lor (the city of shadow), the ones with the Greywolf-slaying black ritual space underneath them. There we hired the captain of the city guard to live in one of the three, and watch the other two. It seemed like an equitable solution.

We'll probably do something similar with Castle Blackhope.. err, Longtooth Keep. It's cool to own real estate, but the Greenhouse is much cozier - and safer.

Incidentally, I'm being maligned here. Dranko only dropped his trousers for perhaps fifteen or twenty seconds. He's not an _exhibitionist_ or anything. Heh heh... mooned an archmage. If it is an archmage.

A great line from Morningstar when she decided to forego the midnight service in the temple of Ell, and hold one back at the Greenhouse instead:

"Well, okay. We'll hold one at home instead. But in order to simulate the sisters of my temple, you guys have to promise to be rude and snub me."


----------



## Quartermoon

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> 
> "Dranko!" says Ernie.  "Put your pants on this minute."
> 
> "I'm mooning Cranchus," Dranko explains.
> 
> "Blinding him, more like," mutters Grey Wolf. *



I laughed so hard I scared the cats away.

Hey, isn't it about time plans began for a certain wedding?


----------



## Kaodi

*Sagiro*

As always, a wonderful story hour! I think we all have a good guess at a bit of what's coming next, and I'm certainly looking forward to it. You and PirateCat certainly have the knack for arousing curiosity and suspense.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

Update or not, this storyhour belongs on the first page.


----------



## Piratecat

*Re: Sagiro*



			
				Kaodi said:
			
		

> *As always, a wonderful story hour! I think we all have a good guess at a bit of what's coming next... *




So, I'm curious. What do you think is coming next?


----------



## Waylander the Slayer

> So, I'm curious. What do you think is coming next?




Here is my guess:

1.  Aravis finds out that there is no such thing as the Crossers Maze. It is just the fantasy equivalent of prozac for insane mages.

2. Dranko learns that the "scrying eyes" belong to Parathol Runecarver. Unfortunately for Dranko, PR has a fetish for hairy half orc booties.

3. Eddings quits because he has secretly been in love with Morningstar and just can not stand the fact that Dranko is getting married to her

4.  Parathol turns out to be Abernathy.

5. Dranko has his tongue stuck to PR after trying to lick him during combat. PR's extensive studies on the company had prepared him well for this dastardly strategy; and he LIKES it.


----------



## Caliber

I'm suprised you didn't pick up on all the hints that Parthol is the one with the tongue attack.


----------



## Aravis

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 169
> 
> “In order for Aravis to use the Crosser’s Maze, he had to tap directly into the life energies of the Archmagi.   I’m afraid that the… strain… was extreme.   As a result of that use of our power, all of us… all of the Archmagi… are extremely weakened.   Although we still retain our knowledge and experience, we have lost the power that we once had.”
> 
> “As weak as us?”  Ernie cannot help but ask.
> 
> Salk looks at him sadly.
> 
> “Much.  Weaker.”
> 
> Aravis goes pale.
> 
> *




I can still hear morningstar's player as she says, "You broke the Arch Mages!"


----------



## target

*a friendly bump*

So a pirate(cat) walks into a bar.  The bartender says, "Hey, it looks like you've got a steering wheel attached to your crotch!"

The pirate(cat) replies, "Arrr, it's driving me nuts!"

Bump ba bump cha!

- target


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 171*_

More days pass.   Kibi continues to fall under the unsettling observation of the eyes in his head; they come and go without any pattern.   Scree sees them as well but doesn’t seem particularly alarmed.  They don’t seem threatening to the familiar, though like Kibi, he’d like to know what they are.  The dwarf takes to talking to the eyes when they watch, keeping up an idle, friendly chatter.  They do not respond. 

Different members of the Company come down with the “mystery rash,” though _remove disease_ spells are always efficacious.   Before long almost everyone has contracted at least a small patch of the itchy skin condition; only Kibi, One Certain Step and Skorg remain uninfected.  

Aravis and Kibi use their free time to train, while others busy themselves making magic items or running various errands.  Those in the Company with family start making arrangements for their relatives to come to Tal Hae for the Sealing Day festival and parade.

Four days after the Company were named as Spire Guard, there is a knock on the door of the Greenhouse in the early evening.  The Company is just sitting down to dinner, and Eddings applies the Light Treatment to the visitor.  They hear a familiar voice, gruff, punctuated by porcine grunts.   

“There is a… man… named Snokas at the door,” announces Eddings.  “He wishes to speak with Morningstar.”

Morningstar stands immediately.  

“Let him in, please.”

She walks into the living room to meet the half-orc Snokas.

_Flashback: Snokas is from Kivia, a mercenary who was hired by Lapis (who in turn had been hired by “P”) and then taken prisoner by the Company.   Minotaurs in the Crosser’s Maze killed him, but the party brought his body back with them to Charagan, where Morningstar raised him from the dead.  He was sent on a Holy Quest after his raising, and made his way alone through the Delfirian army back to Kivia.  There he made contact with Evenstar, telling the old priestess that the time had come for the telling battle in Ava Dormo.  Then he had been assigned as a bodyguard for an Ellish emissary to the Bederen War Council, an emissary whose success has seemingly contributed to the withdrawal of Delfirian forces from Charagan._

And now he’s back.  He wears chainmail that is flat black.

“Snokas,” says Morningstar at a loss.  “What are you… I mean, how did you get here?”

“Priestess,” says the half-orc.  “I have come back to serve you.  I pledge my weapons and my life to your service and the service of our goddess Ell.”

Morningstar looks shocked.  Dranko looks miffed – suddenly there’s one too many half-orcs in Morningstar’s life.

“I don’t understand…” begins Morningstar.

“I was on my way back to my tribe,” says Snokas, “when I was struck by a vision.  There were a series of images, each crystal clear, more real than any dream.  I saw myself traveling back through the Delfirian archway, disguised.  I saw myself worshipping in the great wooden temple of Ell.  And I saw all of you…all of us… standing around…around him.” 

He points at Kibi.

“We were in this very house, and Kibi was holding two large gems, one in each hand.  Then the visions faded, and I found that my armor and picks had become blackened.  It was a sign from the Goddess, I knew in my heart.  I should come back to your kingdom and travel the path that your company treads.  If you’ll have me.”

Morningstar takes a deep breath.  “Of course we will.  We don’t know exactly where that will be, but we will welcome your help.”

Kibi grumbles to himself.  “Just what we need…more orcish blood in the party.  No one ever asks _me_ who gets to be one of the gang.   Hrumph.”

* *

The next morning over breakfast, Dranko speaks aloud a suspicion he’s been having.  

“I think that Cranchus is Parthol,” he announces.

Kibi looks aghast.  “Cranchus is a dwarf!  And he’s one of the Archmagi.  He can’t be Parthol!”

“Why not?” asks Dranko.  “Think about it.  He’s been around forever, but none of the other Archmagi seem to know anything about him.  And it’s too convenient that he’s the only one who didn’t get life-drained by Aravis.”

“We could ask Ozilinsh,” suggests Ernie.

After the meal they go up to the secret room and activate the Crystal Ball.  Before too long Ozilinsh’s face appears.  Dranko explains his theory.

“Nonsense!” concludes Ozilinsh.  “Parthol cannot be acting overtly.  We’ve been watching for him.”

“You didn’t catch his _simulacra_,” Dranko observes.

“That’s different.  Look, we’ve been in contact with Cranchus off and on over the years.  He’s helped us.  If he’s Parthol, why would he have helped us defeat Naradawk?”

“First of all,” says Dranko, “you’ve been in contact with someone who _claims_ to be Cranchus.  If none of you has actually seen him, he could be anyone.  And secondly, hasn’t everything worked out pretty much as Parthol would have wanted?”

He doesn’t speak aloud the fact of the Archmagi’s reduction in power.

“If that were true,” says Ozilinsh, “then why isn’t he attacking us right now, when we’re most vulnerable?  And besides, Parthol couldn’t have known that Aravis would use the Maze in the manner that he did, unless he had prescience even greater than Abernathy’s.   And there’s nothing in Parthol’s past that suggests any such thing.”

“Just like there was nothing to indicate he would betray your order?”

Ozilinsh sighs.  “If it will make you feel better, Dranko, I’ll bring your concern before the other Archmagi.  Would that satisfy you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Good.  Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

The Crystal Ball goes dead.

“You’d think that with everything that’s happened, the frikkin’ Archmages would be more paranoid,” grumbles Dranko.

* *

More days pass and the day of the parade and festival draws near.  Extra travel arrangements are made and verified to get the Company’s families to Tal Hae.  (You can almost hear the _sendings_ zipping through the ether.)  Grey Wolf’s siblings won’t be able to make it,  but Ernie’s, Kibi’s and Morningstar’s parents are expected, along with Dranko’s grandfather and most of Kay's family.

On September 25th, fifteen days after the closure of the Planar Gate, soldiers start returning to Tal Hae in great numbers.  Soon the city is flooded with war heroes, and the churches are overwhelmed with men and women still in need of healing.  The three party clerics spend the day tending to the injured.  The rest of the Company expects to see Marbury Tillerson returning with the other soldiers, but night falls and the stars come out without a visit from their long-time friend.  Morningstar tries a _sending_ to him, but there is no response. 

“He could be sleeping,” suggests Flicker.

“Or dead,” says Grey Wolf, sighing.

The next day, their fears on the count are confirmed.  Spence, their liaison to the city guard after Marbury was assigned, shows up in the morning bearing a parcel tied up in string.

“I’m sorry to be bringing you sad news,” he says, “but the guys at the barracks said you’d be the one to bring this to, seeing has he had no family.  Marbury Tillerson was killed in battle at Verdshane.  He’s already been buried, as I understand it.  I got his belongings here for you.”

He hands the parcel off to Ernie, and leaves, glum.

Marbury didn’t have much to his name – some clothes, a small pouch of coins, some simple cookware and a few other oddments.  Flicker discovers a small tied sketchbook tucked into the clothes, and starts flipping through it.  

“Hey, I didn’t know Tillerson could draw.  He’s…he was pretty good!  Here’s a picture of the marketplace.  And here’s one of the docks and the ocean down by the temple of Brechen.  And here’s…”

Flicker stares down at one of the sketches.   His lip starts to quiver, and a tear rolls down his cheek.  He holds out the drawing for the others to see – it’s a group portrait of the Company, all of them smiling, with Tillerson himself included in the group, grinning along with the rest of them.

Ernie says quietly, “I think we should have a pie in his honor.  He was a good man who died fighting for his King.  And he loved pie.”

* *

Throughout the rest of the day, family arrives.   Kibi proudly brings his parents from Eggemoggin via _teleport_, secure in knowing that his new magical vest will allow him to instantly cast _water walking_ in an emergency.  Morningstar’s parents and Kay's family arrive by ship, while Ernie’s parents and Dranko’s grandfather roll up in covered wagons.  By early evening all have arrived, and the Company gives them a tour of the Greenhouse, showing them everything except the basement laboratory and the secret room behind the bookshelf.  

Kibi’s dad gets straight to the point, asking his son where the distillery is set up.   Morningstar’s father and Ernie’s parents spend almost an hour goggling at the trophies in the living room case.

“Who’d think there were creatures with tentacles that long?”  

“That’s quite an impressive pelt!”

“Eeewwwww.”

“I hope there was only one of those.”

“Is that a _tooth_?”

Flicker, not hip to the plan, pipes up, “Hey, maybe we should show them the basement!”

“No, it’s too dangerous,” Grey Wolf quickly interjects.

“We won’t touch the evil stuff,” assures Kibi’s dad.

“Heeey, look how late it is!” says Morningstar.  “I think we should take you to the inn where you’ll be staying.  We’ve gotten you very nice rooms.  You’ll love it!”

* *

The morning of the parade comes, with a warm sun shining in a clear sky.   Everywhere around Tal Hae are hung banners in the red and gold of the Crown.   Halfling stalls sponsored by the Church of Yondalla are already handing out food along many of the main streets along the parade route.   Papers have been posted all over town, inviting the citizenry out for a grand day of merrymaking and celebration.  (There are also notices that soldiers returning from the war, and who might have trouble finding work, can report to various centers for assignments to public works jobs, most notably the rebuilding of Calnis.)

The Company drops off the family en route to the Ducal palace, where they are headed for the start of the parade.  They make sure all the parents and grandparents and siblings get front-row positions.   All of the Company are dressed splendidly in their royal uniforms, except for Morningstar who has donned her formal Ellish robes.

“Dranko,” she chides, “I thought you’d be wearing Deliochan attire.”

“Well… um… but, er, don’t I look good in this uniform?”  offers Dranko weakly.

Morningstar stares him down until he is shamed into changing.  And a few minutes after that the parade begins, with royal guards on stallions and a dozen trumpeters leading the cavalcade.   The Company is arrayed on several open horse-drawn carriages, riding up high where all can see them.  The parade route is lined with thousands of citizens, cheering madly.   Word has spread that the Company are great adventurers who were instrumental in defeating the enemies of the kingdom; flowers and copper pieces rain down upon them.   

Finally the slowly rolling cart rolls past where the various Company family members are watching, smiling and waving. Ernie's mom waves vigorously, and then starts motioning frantically, with a big grin on her face, for Ernie to hop down off the cart and come over. Ernie waves back happily, but soon realizes that mom must have something important to say, so he climbs down from the cart and jogs over to her. 

"Hi mom!" he says cheerily. "Having fun?" 

"I sure am!" his mom replies. "But I have something important to tell you... come here..." 

Ernie steps closer, expecting his mom to impart some motherly advice about his clothes or dietary habits.

"Now, Ernest," says his mom in a low voice, "I want you to stay calm. Please don't become alarmed, since I just want to talk to you... _but I'm actually King Farazil_."

…to be continued…


----------



## Destil

Sagiro is a bad, bad man.


----------



## Ancalagon

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!!!!

Does this mean that Ernie's mom is gone forever?  or can the soul eater "release" her?

Ancalagon


----------



## thatdarncat

Destil said:
			
		

> *Sagiro is a bad, bad man. *




He is indeed. Infact, the only way he can prove his unbadness is by posting another update and showing that all will be well for our poor halfling!


----------



## Nail

thatdarncat said:
			
		

> *.... the only way he can prove his unbadness is by posting another update.....*



Hear, hear!!


----------



## wolff96

Snokas comes back. He sees Kibi (the pivot, IIRC) holding the two stones.

Methinks the party is going to be "traveling nowhere" before too much longer.

I also think that Sagiro has an awesome ability to draw minor things back into the story hour... Snokas' return, Tillerson, and even King Farazil...  I think Sagiro is the King of Continuity.

Not to mention the biggest rat bastard DM on the block...


----------



## coyote6

D'oh! You had to know something was coming -- after all, it's traditional in big epics for Bad Things to happen after the heroes win a big victory in mid-epic -- but the specifics look like they were a surprise. Did the Company forget to apply the Light Treatment to the families, or did the King get mom at the inn?


----------



## Piratecat

You'll see.  Whimper.


----------



## coyote6

That raises a Very Important Question: When will we see?


----------



## KidCthulhu

[Runs over to Sagiro's.  Gives him a thwap upside the head.]

Post already, darn it!


----------



## Samnell

Sagiro said:
			
		

> "Now, Ernest," says his mom in a low voice, "I want you to stay calm. Please don't become alarmed, since I just want to talk to you... _but I'm actually King Farazil_."




That's just not right.


----------



## Quartermoon

Don't mess with Mommies, Sagiro.

Just don't.

We know where it hurts.


----------



## Zaruthustran

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> "Now, Ernest," says his mom in a low voice, "I want you to stay calm. Please don't become alarmed, since I just want to talk to you... but I'm actually King Farazil."
> 
> …to be continued… *




 

   

Wow. I was squirming as I read the post--like the others, I figured Something Bad was coming. But boy oh boy, I didn't expect something THAT bad. 

Did Sagiro do a scary voice for that italisized bit?  

-z


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 172*_


Ernie's eyes go wide in surprised horror. He is not calm, and he is very alarmed. 

"YOU GET OUT OF MY MOTHER!" he screams, groping in his pocket for his _continual flame_ coin. 

“Don't worry,” says the voice of Ernie mom, cheerily.  “I'm no longer trying to kill you."

Ernie's father looks over in surprise. Granted, there's a lot of general din including some screaming, but... did he hear Ernie correctly? 

“Dear, is everything all right?" 

Dranko, seeing the drastic change in Ernie’s expression, comes over to see what's going on. 

"Dad," says Ernie between clenched teeth. "I need to be alone with mom for a minute. Why don't you go visit with Morningstar's parents?" 

"Ernest, are you sure that..." 

"DAD... please... go... stand... over... there." 

Dranko gives Ernie a puzzled look.  Ernie mouths “Farazil.”  Dranko’s eyebrows shoot up.  He puts his arm around Ernie's father and strikes up a conversation, leading him gently away.   Then he takes out the _mirror of whispers_ and sends a message to Morningstar. "Farazil is in Ernie's mom's body. He hasn't tried anything yet, though." 

“Sh*t,” utters Morningstar.  She starts casting _detect thoughts_. 

Ernie turns back to his mother, and speaks in a voice that is tightly calm.

"I said, you get out of my mother's body _right now_." 

"Oh, I will in just a moment. I simply wanted to convey a message, and needed to do it in a way such that you wouldn't try anything... rash." 

"Then say what you want to say, and _get out._" 

"Ok... fine. Two things, mostly. One, like I said, I'm no longer trying to kill you. My contract is finished. And two, I want to talk about a... possible business arrangement that would be to all of our benefits." 

"We're not talking about anything," says Ernie hotly, "while you're possessing my mother. If you really want to talk, meet us at the Rusty Bucket tomorrow, and _not_ inhabiting the body of any of our families." 

"That sounds fine under two conditions," says Farazil. "One, we set the meeting for noon.  And two, you promise me right now, on Yondalla's good name, that you won't try setting an ambush or any other treachery." 

"Fine. I promise those things, as long as you also don't try anything.  But if you give us _any_ provocation, all deals are off." 

"Wonderful!" says Farazil. "I really have no further desire to antagonize you.  I'll see you tomorrow afternoon then. Bring as many of your friends as you'd like." 

And Ernie's mom suddenly faints, falling backward into the crowded row of parade-watchers behind her. A number of townsfolk move to help her up. 

"Ernest?" she says, blinking. "Oh my! I must have fainted from all the excitement. Don't look so concerned! I'm still having a wonderful time." 

"Ok mom." Ernie turns away from his mom and rejoins the parade before she can fully register the angry frustration on his face.

* *

The parade comes to an end that afternoon; the Company retires to the Greenhouse where they put on a calm collective face to their families.  No mention is made of the “incident” with Farazil.   After a meal largely courtesy of Eddings and the magical icebox, the guests depart for a final night at their inn.   (Most of them are leaving on ships or carriages the following morning.  Kibi plans on returning his ship-phobic parents by _teleport_.)

The Company spends an hour or two before bed discussing tomorrow’s meeting with King Farazil.  Ernie is still fuming, and has all sorts of violent and treacherous suggestions that he knows deep down would make Yondalla pretty mad at him.   Everyone is curious as to what made him call off his contract on their lives, what he wants to bargain for, and (worryingly) what he might have to bargain _with_.   They agree that treachery on Farazil’s part is more than likely.  A _continual flame_ coin will be in every pocket, just in case.

* *

The Rusty Bucket is a tavern of low means two blocks in from the harborside.   At noon it is typically full of tooth-challenged mariners, itinerant dock workers and the occasional priest of Brechen making the rounds among his flock.  Today is no different; the Company filters into the noisy, smoky commons, drawing a few stares by dint of being fully armed.  A small group of soldiers in the corner raise their mugs to the Company, perhaps recognizing them from the parade.   Only Flicker waves back; the others are looking to see who in this crowded tavern might be Farazil.

A man is waving to them from near to the center of the room.  It’s their tall, white-haired navigator, Sutton, with a big grin on his face and (somehow) two tables all to himself.  Dranko grimaces; it _had_ to be someone they knew, didn’t it?  The Company winds its way through the crowd until they reach Sutton’s table, and they sit, nervously.

“Next time,” says Dranko, “you don’t show up wearing the body of anyone we know.”

“It’s just a sensible precaution,” says Farazil.  “It _has_ occurred to me that you might set up an ambush.  Anyway, I’m glad you all could make it!  Would you like to order drinks before we get down to business?”

“Just get to the point,” says Ernie.  “Why don’t you start with giving us at least one reason why we shouldn’t kill you right now.”

“You mean besides your promise to Yondalla?”

Ernie seethes.  Farazil continues. 

“I assume you all have your little light stones ready in case I try anything?”

He leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, “It’s a good idea, but it wouldn’t work.  It would make me uncomfortable, but it would hardly be sufficient for what you hope would happen.  But I know it’s made you feel better, shining a little light in everyone’s eyes when they come to your house.  And even just _feeling_ secure has value, right?”

He carefully watches the expressions of the Company.  Do they believe him?  At least one person winces instinctively at the thought that all of their light-testing of guests has been for naught.  

“How about you don’t give us a reason to find out,” suggests Aravis.

“Fair enough,” says Farazil, smiling.

“Before we go any further,” says Morningstar, “I don’t suppose you’d have any objection to a spell that would verify that you’re telling the truth?”

“No, of course not.  I don’t object.  For once, complete honesty will serve me the best in a haggling session, and I’m sure it will make you feel better.  I promise not to resist the spell.  Go ahead.”

Morningstar casts _zone of truth_. 

“Try lying,” she says.

“I am the Ki…  I am King Cr…  My name is not Far… hm.  Well, it’s working insofar as I cannot lie about my own name.  So now I have neither the desire nor the ability to lie.  Happy?”

(At the tables nearest to their own, conversations start to falter and break up, as people come to realize that lies simply won't come out of their mouths.  Within minutes every table inside the spell's range has emptied.)

“You were saying, then?” prods Ernie.

“Ah, yes.  Well, let me start out by telling all of you what I told Ernie yesterday.  I don’t want to kill you anymore.  That particular contract is no longer in force.”

“Not that we’re not delighted,” says Grey Wolf dryly, “but why is that?” 

“I reached a deal with my former employer,” says Farazil.  “Technically, we had come to a verbal agreement after I locked you up in God’s Thorn.  We both agreed that your imprisonment was as good as, if not better than, an actual killing of your bodies.  When it turned out that you had escaped, my employer – I’ll just call that person “he,” though I make no assurances as to his or her gender – was somewhat put out.   We… went back over the wording of the original contract, and reached a deal in which he would not attempt to hold me further.”

“Who was your employer?” many of the Company ask at once.

“I cannot tell you.  That was part of my end of the bargain.  I will not divulge any piece of information about him; not his name, his whereabouts, or his affiliations.  But since that’s not germane to this meeting, I think we can just drop the subject.”

“Fine,” says Dranko.  “So how about you tell us about what it is you want.”

“I want to help you,” says Farazil, “as part of an exchange of favors.   For my part, what I’m willing to give you is my services as a professional.”

“You’re an assassin!” cries Ernie.  “Why would we possibly want that?”

“Assassin?” says Farazil in an injured tone.  “Hardly.  That’s such a limited role.  Yes, I can kill people, and yes, I’m very good at it, and yes, I take pride in my work.  But for our purposes, say instead that I am an _investigator_ who could also kill someone if called up on.”

“We can find out information for ourselves when we need it,” says Morningstar.  “I don’t see what we would gain from hiring you.”

“I’m sure you’re very good,” says Farazil, taking a swig from his mug of beer.  “But you’re not as good as I am.  You _can’t_ be.  Think about what I am!  I can infiltrate in ways that you humans never could.  I can read minds more reliably and with greater facility than even you Ellish priestesses.   For instance, I know that you are currently worried about a certain red-armored escapee from the recent fracas up in Verdshane.  His name is Tarsos.  You want very much to know where he is.  You have no leads at the moment, and neither do any of your allies.” 

Farazil leans forward again.  

“But I have leads.  And if we reach an agreement, I will follow up on those leads, and before too long I guarantee I can provide you with Tarsos’ current address.   How does that sound?”

He sits back and watches the Company digest his offer.  Eventually Aravis lets out a long sigh.

“I hate to ask this, but go on… what is it that you’d want in return?”

“Nothing as grim or expensive as I’m sure you expect,” answers Farazil.  “What I want is this:  to be granted full Citizenship in your Kingdom of Charagan, with all the of the rights and duties implied thereby...and with a chance to start fresh, from a criminal-record standpoint.  In return for this, I would offer my services to your King Crunard, to serve in whatever investigatory capacity he wishes.  Given the mess that needs to be cleaned up after your little war with Naradawk Skewn, I’d expect he’d be thrilled to hire someone of my unique talents.”

The Company exchanges startled glances.   This sure wasn’t anything like what they expected!  

“But… no!” says Kibi.  “The King wouldn’t hire you.  You’re a murderer!” 

“Nonsense,” says Farazil.  “I’m a mercenary.  I am hired to perform jobs, and I do them.   I try to enjoy them as well as I can, and I strive to do my best, even when performing under duress as with my last employer.   Sometimes those jobs involve killing or otherwise inconveniencing my boss’s enemies.  Isn’t that exactly what you do for your Archmage patron?  How many intelligent creatures have you killed, simply because they have goals that conflict with those of your employer?”

“He has a point,” says Kay.

“But he’s evil!” says Ernie.  Everyone instinctively looks at One Certain Step, who nods, frowning.  

“Evil,” says Farazil, shaking his head.  “It’s so subjective.  But I’ll bet a quarter of the people in this tavern are evil too, aren’t they, Paladin of Kemma.  So what?  You don’t think King Crunard has evil people in his employ at this very moment, performing vital but unsavory tasks for the greater good?  Don’t kid yourself.  And right now I’m the least of a whole slew of evils besetting your fair kingdom.  I’d like to help you fight them.”

“But why?” asks Morningstar.  “I don’t understand what’s in it for you.  Even if you could somehow be made a citizen of Charagan, so what?  You’re eager to pay taxes?”

“I’m not sure you’ll understand,” says Farazil in a softer voice than before.  “But it’s largely symbolic.  I want to _belong_ somewhere.  To be a part of something, part of a group.  My existence is not like yours.  I have no friends.  No permanent home.  No identity outside of myself.  I’m… lonely.   The creatures of the Plane of Shadow are petty at best, mindless at worst.   I loathe the place.  I so much prefer the company of real, solid humanoids.  It would have a great meaning to me to think that I was part of a whole Kingdom of people, recognized officially as one of them.”

The skepticism around the table is palpable.  Farazil sighs.

“If you need a reason more in synch with your prejudices, consider this: my last employer had me trapped in a bottle, and only released me by forcing me to agree to kill you.  I don’t like him.  And it is not breaking my agreement to say that my old employer and your King Crunard are somewhat at odds.  I wish to play for your team.  Is that better?”

“Even if we accept your reasons,” says Aravis, “there are some logistical problems to solve.  For starters, you don’t have a body.  And if you’re going to be a citizen of this kingdom, you can’t go around possessing people.”

“I don’t have a choice in that,” says Farazil.  “I cannot interact in any other way.  But I have anticipated the question.  When not on duty, I would propose to inhabit the body of some criminal who would otherwise be put to death.  That way your King could keep track of me when he wanted to, to make sure I wasn’t up to any mischief.  I would subject myself to any truth magic that would allay fears of treachery.”

“Speaking of which,” says Morningstar.  “What about Naboz?  We’ve read about him.   I believe the quote from the author was:  “…capable of nearly infinite malice.”

“Naboz,” says Farazil, clucking his tongue.  “Yes, he got what was coming to him, didn’t he?  He always was the bad seed.  A born troublemaker from the start.  And it wasn’t bad enough the mischief he got into on his own account.  We all ended up painted with the same brush!  Look, the Carch-Din are no different than you humans is that respect; some of us are worse than others.  I shouldn’t judge you by the actions of… of Meledien, or of Parthol Runecarver, right?  Then I ask you not to judge me by the stupid antics of Naboz.  And besides, his actions got him killed.”

“How did they kill him?” asks Dranko.

“I’m certainly not going to discuss that,” says Farazil, smiling.  “But it was a nice try.”

There is a long silence, while Farazil takes a long pull at his mug.

“You have my offer then,” he says at last.  “You get me granted full Citizenship in the kingdom of Charagan.  You at least convey to King Crunard that I am willing to work for him as a master spy, though that is not a necessary part of the bargain.  And you agree that I will be free of persecution by you or anyone else acting in an official capacity.  In return, I at very least find out for you where Tarsos is hiding out, and possibly end up serving as a valuable source of intelligence for years to come.”

“We’ll have to make some inquiries,” says Morningstar.  “We can’t just give you citizenship ourselves.”

“Of course,” smiles Farazil.  “Why don’t we agree to meet here again, in a week’s time.  You advocate my offer to the powers that be, and in the meantime I’ll start hunting up information about Tarsos.  If we can come to an agreement when next we meet, I’ll share with you everything I’ve learned.  And in anticipation that our next meeting will be fruitful, I’d best get started in my sleuthing.”

Sutton stands up.

“It has been a pleasure talking with you in such a friendly atmosphere.  I’m glad I’m no longer bound to kill you.  You’ve always seemed like nice people.  One week from today, right here.  In a body that none of you know.”

He turns his back on the Company and walks through the crowd to the door, shaking hands and patting acquaintances on the back all the way out.

…to be continued…


----------



## RangerWickett

Yay, Sagiro!  I knew that mustachioed fool would never die.  But I kinda wish Farazil had been Turlus.


----------



## thatdarncat

Of course, if I was Farazil and I really wanted to make an impression, I'd show up riding Tarsos's body


----------



## KidCthulhu

Ah, but then we'd just kill Tarsos, and leave Ferris Wheel (as we like to call him) to whistle for a body.  His only negotiating point has always been that he siezes bodies we don't want to harm, like friends, parents or innocent bystanders.  Tarsos would be like a present.  Kill the body, bug the Carch-Din.  It's a win-win.


----------



## Nail

May the Fire God be praised, but I've looked and looked, and can't find the reference to this:


> “Speaking of which,” says Morningstar. “What about _Naboz_? We’ve read about him. I believe the quote from the author was: “…capable of nearly infinite malice.”


----------



## Alomir

Try this for some Naboz info:

http://home.attbi.com/~dorian/archives.html#SoulEaters


----------



## coyote6

Nail said:
			
		

> *May the Fire God be praised, but I've looked and looked, and can't find the reference to this:
> *




Try here.


----------



## Fade

I think I've run out of words to describe how much of a rat-bastard Sagiro is.

"Stop acting reasonable! You're meant to be a _villain_, dammit!"


----------



## Zaruthustran

Exactly. Nothing like an evil monster that is perfectly reasonable, and even shames you into feeling like the bad guy.

Nice work, Sagiro!

-z

PS: how's that Sagiro Story Hour book coming? Have you sold the movie rights yet?


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> *Exactly. Nothing like an evil monster that is perfectly reasonable, and even shames you into feeling like the bad guy.
> *




This is a tradition of Sagrio's. The way the players tell the difference between allies and enemies;  Allies are mean to them, enemies are very polite (with the exception of evil bakers).


----------



## Kosh

I don't recall who Marbury Tillerson is...  Can someone fill me in?...

Great story, Sagiro...


----------



## Alomir

Kosh said:
			
		

> *I don't recall who Marbury Tillerson is...  Can someone fill me in?...
> 
> Great story, Sagiro... *



Marbury Tillerson is a lieutenant of the Tal Hae City Guard, liason from the city, first seen here (scroll down to _April 30th_).  The company had contact with him here and there for a bit, when they needed a friendly city official.  Farazil was 'using' Tillerson's body when he first introduced himself to the Company (here, in the _Saturday, June 29 - Friday, August 3_ section).  We find out that he's been in Verdshane in _Part 152_, back around page nine or so of the SH.


----------



## RangerWickett

Ch'bump, to let Sagiro know we still care.


----------



## Plane Sailing

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *“Just get to the point,” says Ernie. “Why don’t you start with giving us at least one reason why we shouldn’t kill you right now.”
> 
> “You mean besides your promise to Yondalla?”
> *




Amongst many wonderful lines, I wanted to draw attention to this one. I do so enjoy urbane villains!


----------



## Corwyn

And another bump.

Just to show that RangerWickett isn't the onlyone who cares.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

Okay, having been teased by Piratecat in another thread, I'm ready for an actual update!


----------



## Piratecat

Me too!

Sagiro is prepping for his Fantasy Baseball draft, and has been fairly preoccupied. We've managed to amuse ourselves by hacking into his notes and upping the plusses on all of our "loot" weapons by +3. He may notice when he surfaces for air, but we'll be kicking butt until then.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *Me too!
> 
> Sagiro is prepping for his Fantasy Baseball draft, and has been fairly preoccupied. *




I mean, the nerve of the man, letting his fantasy interfere with his fantasy.


----------



## tmaaas

I was so hoping for a masterpiece from the master like we got last year!

However, I guess I was prepared this time around.  A year ago I truly though the company had met its end.


----------



## Number47

I don't comment on story hours much, but I just have to pipe up to tell you that this is my favorite story hour by far. Now, if you could just see your way to updating it a little more often...?


----------



## Lord Pendragon

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *Me too!
> 
> Sagiro is prepping for his Fantasy Baseball draft, and has been fairly preoccupied. We've managed to amuse ourselves by hacking into his notes and upping the plusses on all of our "loot" weapons by +3. He may notice when he surfaces for air, but we'll be kicking butt until then.   *



_Whip of the Searing Tongue +5_?


----------



## Piratecat

Tmaas, the really sad thing is that if Sagiro had posted what REALLY HAPPENED in the campaign, everyone would think that he was posting another April Fool's. 

He's done with his Fantasy Baseball Draft at this point, I think, so he should be working on an update. I'll encourage him...

Hey Sagiro! You don't want me to have to institute the "Hidden Peep-A-Day" program, do you? Yes, that's right! Peep upon Peep, hidden in your house for every day you don't post! I'd hate to do it, but I'm getting desperatre for more Sagiro-y goodness!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *Tmaas, the really sad thing is that if Sagiro had posted what REALLY HAPPENED in the campaign, everyone would think that he was posting another April Fool's.
> 
> He's done with his Fantasy Baseball Draft at this point, I think, so he should be working on an update. I'll encourage him...
> 
> Hey Sagiro! You don't want me to have to institute the "Hidden Peep-A-Day" program, do you? Yes, that's right! Peep upon Peep, hidden in your house for every day you don't post! I'd hate to do it, but I'm getting desperatre for more Sagiro-y goodness!   *




How about if I offer to get the entire Hivemind to post in this story hour every day with inane chat until he updates? Is that a sufficiently nasty threat to galvanise him into action? 

I'm sure it could be arranged...


----------



## Piratecat

I hear rumors that Sagiro will be updating tonight - huzzah!


----------



## Dawn

<I hear rumors that Sagiro will be updating tonight - huzzah!>

And there was much rejoicing among the followers!!


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 173*_

Back at the Greenhouse the Company explodes into heated discussion.   None of them believe that Farazil has told them the whole truth.  Why does he _really_ want citizenship?  What _actually_ occurred to terminate his contract on their lives?  Who might his previous employer/master have been?  And what are they going to do about it now?

“We should tell the Duke,” says Morningstar. 

“Yeah,” says Ernie.  “We did promise Farazil we’d see about getting him citizenship, and make his offer to be a royal spy.”

“I was more thinking that we needed to warn him Farazil was still alive and at large,” says Morningstar.  “We can tell him what Farazil asked for, but there’s no way the Duke, let along King Crunard, would accept his service.”

“Don’t be so sure,” says Dranko.  “I’ll bet His Majesty wants to know where Tarsos is almost as much as we do.”

“I’ll go see about setting up a meeting then,” says Kay.  She puts on her royal uniform and heads out the door.

A few minutes later, while the others are still debating the soul eater’s motives, the Crystal Ball starts to keen.   It’s Ozilinsh on a non-emergency call.

“Friends,” he says, “and Dranko in particular.   After your concerns about Cranchus being Parthol, I made numerous inquiries on the subject, polling other Archmagi and hearing their recollections.   Fylnius is old enough to remember Parthol, and he assures me that the Archmagi’s first dealings with Cranchus occurred before Parthol was even born!  I hope that puts to rest your notions that they are the same person.”

Dranko puts his hand to his chin.  “How do you know that Parthol didn’t kill Cranchus somewhere along the line, and take his place?”

Ozilinsh lets out an exaggerated breath.  

“Dranko, I put your theory to each Archmage.  Every one of them discounts it.   All of them who had dealings with Cranchus feel that he is… differently schooled than the rest of us.  He is a powerful wizard, but he does not fit into our paradigms of learning.  Parthol may have been corrupted, but he was provably one of _us_.   And there are nuances of magical communication that would have revealed treachery, if Cranchus were actually Parthol in disguise.   Alykeen and Koenig both agree that it would have sent Abernathy’s prescience into hysterics at the very least.  You’ll just have to trust us on this one, okay?”

Dranko reluctantly agrees to let the theory drop.


* *

During breakfast the next morning the eyes are back, watching Kibi in his head.  The dwarf instinctively snaps his head up and looks around.  The eyes are like two small white gemstones shining in his peripheral vision.  Aravis notices.  

“Eyes again?”

“Yup.”

“Anything new with them?”

“Nope.”

“They still seem okay to me,” says Scree to Kibi.  “I don’t think they’re evil, or have any ill intentions.”

Kibi finishes off his plate.  

“I had a nice breakfast,” he says conversationally, addressing the eyes.  As always, they don’t answer.

The Company spends the late morning divvying up magic items, including the ones recently claimed as swag from the Verdshane battlefield.   Dranko grabs the Ring of Djinni summoning, which he has been itching to try.

“I’m gonna give this thing a whirl,” he says, and before anyone can stop him, he puts it on and wills a genie to exist.  Seconds later a fine blue mist starts to pour from the ring’s blue stone, a mist that rapidly thickens into a vortex of indigo smoke.  From within the blue cloud a glistening blue torso emerges, and within a few seconds an entire genie has coalesced in the living room of the Greenhouse.  His body below the waist is swirling vapor; his upper half is a deep blue color.  (All are instantly put in mind of Oa Lyanna, whose appearance is similar.)  He wears only a golden silken vest around his muscled chest, and a simple silver circlet around his bald head.  A gaudy gold ring dangles from his right ear.  

His expression is surprising.  The djinni has its mouth open and is staring intently, as if he had just a moment ago been examining his teeth in a mirror.  Realizing where he is, the Djinni quickly regains his composure, though he doesn’t bother masking a brief expression of annoyance. He dips his upper body in a graceful bow, and in a deep stentorian voice laced with… sarcasm?… he intones:

“And how may I serve you today, my master?  As always I am… wait a minute!  You are not Ramad!”

_This is so cool!_ thinks Dranko.  The others stand around, agog.

“Ramad is no longer your master,” says Dranko, standing forth and trying to sound at ease.  “I’m the new owner of the ring.”

“Ah,” bellows the Djinni.  “I see.  And you are…?”

“I am Sir Dranko Blackhope.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” remarks the Djinn, making it clear that this is far from true.  “My name is Al Tarqoz, and I am at your disposal, my new and no doubt most wise Master.  _How_…”  (and he draws out the word “how” in a most aggrieved fashion) “may I serve you?”

“Er… why don’t you tell us?  What can you do?”

“Do?”   Al Tarqoz sighs, as though he’s been asked this question innumerable times in his life.  “I can do many things.  I can cook an exquisite meal in short order.  I can operate a business efficiently.  I can play the pipes passably well if called upon.   Ah…”  he holds up his hand.  “But your question does not concern these mundane trifles, of course.  You wish to know what magical skills I have which you may command me to use.” 

“Ask him if he grants wishes,” whispers Flicker.

“My Master,” says Al Tarqoz, “You may inform your small friend that I am perfectly capable of being spoken to _directly_ by anyone present.”

“Well, do you?” asks Dranko.  “Grant wishes?”

The Djinni snorts derisively.  “If I had the power to invoke magics on that scale, do you think for one moment that I would still be bound up to a piece of jewelry such that anyone could summon me to a far-off plane for aid, even when I am in the midst of attending to my personal hygiene?  No, I do not grant wishes.  Nor do I bring the dead to life, shoot fire from my eyes, or command the whirlwind.   The magics at my command are more modest.  Once each day I can create fresh, clean water, or wine of any number of delightful vintages.   I can create small and simple items of a wide variety.  Furthermore, I can conjure illusions of an exceedingly believable nature.  And I can turn myself and half a dozen others into misty vapors that can travel at astonishingly fast speeds.  Do you wish me to invoke any of these spells at this time, my Master?”

“Uh, no, not just now,” says Dranko, grinning.  

“Then what, might I inquire, was the reason for your summoning me on this occasion?”

“Nothing in particular.  We just wanted to meet you.”

“I see.  ‘Nothing in particular.’  Perhaps it did not occur to you, oh wise and benevolent Master, that I come from a place, a house of my own in the City of Brass.   In the afternoons I run my trade as a silk merchant.  In the evenings I enjoy festivals, dancing, drinking, and the company of my fellows.”

“But you still have to serve whoever holds the ring,” says Dranko.   “Who right now is me.”

“Dranko!” hisses Ernie, appalled.  

One Certain Step looks away, uncomfortable.

“Er,” continues Dranko, “I think we can promise you that we’ll only summon you when we’re in great need of your services, Al Tarqoz.”

“My Master is the very embodiment of beneficence,” says Al Tarqoz.

“Perhaps we should dismiss him for now,” suggests Aravis.

“I guess,” says Dranko.  But then he says to the Djinn:  “Hey, while you’re here, would you like a cigar?”

He lights one himself and takes a puff.  Al Tarqoz looks down at Dranko and wrinkles his nose.

“Your offer is generosity itself; please forgive me as I decline your invitation.”

“Suit yourself.  Say, how long will you hang around for if I don’t dismiss you, and how many times can we call you each day.”

“I will remain on your delightful Prime for one hour, after which I will be returned to my own plane.  And I can only be… summoned… one each day.”

“How much wine can you create in an hour?”

“Dranko!” Ernie is turning a bright red.

“Oh, fine,” says Dranko.  “Al Tarqoz, you are dismissed.  But if you…”

The genie turns into a billow of blue smoke, which is quickly sucked back into the ring.

“Well, that was fun!” Dranko announces.  He turns to find that no one is smiling.  Ernie is fixing him with a withering glare.

“What?” says Dranko.  “That guy was clearly one of those snotty high-society types.  It’s good to take them down a peg or two every once in a while.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re going to treat him like a slave,” says Ernie flatly.  “He’s a person just like you are, and he shouldn’t have people picking at his dignity.”

“I wasn’t treating him like… look, we summon creatures all the time!   How is this any different, really?”

There is a long silence.  

“Snokas,” says Morningstar.  “How about we go out and spar in the yard.  I want to see how good a fighter you are.”

“I’ll go with you,” says Grey Wolf.

“Me too,” says Step.

“I’m going to study in my room,” says Aravis.  “Please excuse me.”

Soon Dranko is alone in the living room, looking down at his new piece of jewelry.  

“Ah, screw it,” he mutters to himself.  “I feel like getting someone else in trouble.”

Dranko spends the rest of the day seeing what he can do about Imperia.  _(Imperia is one of the two nasty wizards in Sand’s Edge who were suspected of blackmailing, or at least extorting, the local city officials during the time of the Turtle Sickness.  The other wizard, Fulton, fought and died at Verdshane, while Imperia never showed up.)_  Though Dranko typically works with more underworldly contacts, today he throws his weight around as a new member of the minor nobility.   Working all the official channels he can find, he arranges for a thorough investigation of Imperia’s designs, with an eye toward muscling her out of her current position in Sand’s Edge. 

Having done his best, he comes home to find that the mood has lightened considerably.   Ernie is packing rations that look more like picnic lunches than hard trail food.

“Where are we going?” asks Dranko.

“To Longtooth Keep!” says Ernie.  “We’re going to check out our new castle.”

“Oh, you mean Castle Blackhope.  Great!  I wonder what’s taken up residence there while we’ve been away?”

…to be continued…


----------



## Sagiro

(oops... double post.  weird.)


----------



## RangerWickett

'Dranko Coaltongue' is an anagram for:

No Nude Ork Catalog

'Morningstar' is an anagram for:

Snorting Ram

'One Certain Step' is an anagram for:

Serpentine Taco

'Sagiro Emberleaf' is an anagram for:

Fearsome Gabriel (or Beef Rigamaroles)

And finally, 'Parthol Runecarver' is an anagram for:

Dread Night Snos.  Oh wait, I mean, "Carnal Pervert Hour."



P.S., my roommate's name, "Kevin Tian Jiang," is an anagram for Ink Jet in . . . nevermind.


----------



## Fade

Yay! updates!


----------



## thatdarncat

_much rejoicing_


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 174*_

Packed and ready to go, Kibi _teleports_ the Company to Hae Kalkas, which conveniently enough is the major city both closest to Longtooth Keep and nearest to Kibi’s home town of Eggemoggin.  Although their instinct is to immediately begin _wind walking_, the Company decides to (wonder of wonders!) _walk_ for the two days it will take to reach the hill-fort of the Norlin Hills.  

“We need to stretch our legs, breathe some fresh air,” says Ernie.  “And get some exercise that doesn’t involve beating up bad guys.”  

It’s a warm autumnal day beneath a cloud-bespeckled sky, and the only thing that mars their enjoyment is the fact that Aravis and Morningstar have again acquired patches of the mystery rash.  It’s still just a minor nuisance, and clerical magic cures it, but it sure would be nice to know what’s causing it.  The party resolves to visit the Sages Consortium in Hae Kalkas on their return trip from the keep. 

In the late afternoon Kibi feels the eyes upon him again, glinting hard and cold in his mind.  They seem particularly expectant, but Kibi can do nothing.   He frowns in frustration, wondering what they want.  They don’t leave this time, and gaze steadily through the rest of the evening.

They are still watching him the next morning when he wakes.

“What do you want?” he cries out.  “Are you Cranchus?  Are you the Eyes of Moirel?  Both, somehow?  What?”

Nothing.

All day they watch, as the party winds its way up into the Norlin Hills.  The roads are in poor repair, strewn with tumbled rock and a few fallen leaves.  

“I’ll bet some monsters have moved in,” says Dranko. 

“Or maybe a gang of ruffians and outlaws,” says Flicker.

“More likely a bear, or some wolves” says Kay.

In the late afternoon they round a sharp peak on a high road and see the four corner towers of Longtooth Keep rising above the rock.  The drawbridge is down.  They can't remember if they left it that way or not, but they approach cautiously, ready for anything.  The small gatehouse still seems deserted and there is no sound at all save from birds and the wind.  They emerge into the large courtyard with weapons drawn, but no one greets them, friendly or otherwise.  

Kay moves farther in, examining the ground for tracks.  The grounds are spotty with weeds and crabgrass, rocks and gravel.

“Hard to say,” she concludes after a few minutes.  “The soil is hard and doesn’t leave good marks.  The bones from our last battle are still here; you’d think if anyone had taken over the Keep in the past few years, they’d have cleaned the place up.”

“What a disappointment,” says Dranko, throwing his hands up in disgust.  “How could this place have gone unoccupied all this time.  There aren’t even any monsters to fight!”

“Think again, mister!” calls a voice from somewhere above.  “It’s occupied, by me!  And seeing as how this place is mine, and you’re a-trespassin’ on it, I suggest you leave it this instant!”

Weapons fly instantly into hands, and all eyes focus on the upper story of the keep’s central building.   There’s someone up there all right, just inside a window, and he’s poking a crossbow out, aimed in their general direction.

“Who the hell are you?”  Dranko calls up.

“I’ll be asking the questions,” retorts the voice.   “I’m the one with the crossbow.  Any of you try anything funny and you’ll get a bolt in your belly.”

There’s some snickering from the Company.  The one with the crossbow?  Who are the ones with the crossbow, the longbows, the shortbows, the warhammers, longswords, daggers, morningstars, maces, whips and sonic _fireballs_?

After a moment where no one speaks, Aravis says, “well?”

“Well what?” replies the man with the crossbow.

“You said you’d be asking the questions.  What questions?”

“I don’t got no questions.  You just turn around and leave before there’s trouble.”

“Look pal,” says Dranko, “I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, but this is our Keep.  We have the title.  You’re on our land, so why don’t you come down here where we can talk about it, okay?”

“You’re lyin’,” says the man.  “This keep’s been abandoned for months.  There ain’t nobody what owns it.  “Cept me, that is.”  

“This is stupid,” says Morningstar.  She casts _detect thoughts_.

“Hey now, what’s she doin’?  What’s with all the hand-waving and chanting?”

No one answers.  With little effort Morningstar starts to read his thoughts.  And what he’s thinking is, “man, I sure hope I can bluff ‘em.  Yeah, I bet I can.  Bluff ‘em, that’s it.”

“We’re not going away,” says Morningstar.  “And unless you want us to come up there after you, I suggest you come down and talk.   I know you have a crossbow.  We’ve got weapons too, but we’d rather not fight at all.”

The man squints out of the window.  He’s thinking, “damn.”  

The crossbow is withdrawn from the window and the Company hears the sound of someone coming down the stairs. 

“He’s just a squatter,” says Morningstar.  “He’s thinking he doesn’t have much of a chance, but he’s still going to try to convince us to leave.”

From the keep’s central building emerges a scraggly man in his forties, broad-shouldered and sunburned.  He’s still got his crossbow out in front of him, loaded and cocked.

“He won’t use it,” mutters Morningstar as he approaches.

The man slows as he gets a better look at the Company, bristling with weapons and outfitted in shiny expensive armor.  The crossbow dips a bit.

“What’s your name, mister?” asks Ernie cheerily.

“It’s no business of yours,” blusters the man.

Grey Wolf clears his throat and lets his hand drop to Bostock’s hilt.

“Erm… it’s Fergus.  M’name’s Fergus.  What’s yours?”

“Ernest Roundhill.  A pleasure to meet you, Fergus.”

“Can’t say the same,” growls Fergus.  “Now why don’t you folks just go on home, and leave me in peace.  I don’t want no trouble.”

“We are home,” says Aravis.  “We own this keep.  The King himself granted us the deed.”

“Yeah?  Let’s see it.”

Aravis fishes out the title to Longtooth Keep.  Fergus grabs it and makes a show of looking it over.  He’s holding it upside-down.

“He can’t read,” mumbles Morningstar.

Fergus hands back the deed.

“A forgery, I’ll warrant,” he declares.

“How would you know?” asks Morningstar.  “You can’t read it.  Can you?”

“Are you suggesting that I… that I…”

Morningstar is glaring steadily at him.

“Well, fine, maybe I’m not brushed up on my letters, but please.  You expect me to believe that the King, Crunard himself, gave you this run-down old place with all these weeds and rocks and bones?  I could-a come up with a better story myself!”

“Gotta give him credit for trying,” says Grey Wolf.

“Look, buddy,” says Dranko, stepping forward and ignoring the crossbow.  “It’s not a forgery.  I would know.  We just fought a big war over in Verdshane, and we won, and the King gave us this keep as a reward.  We earned it, and it’s ours, and if you have eyes in your head you can see that there’s not much you can do to keep us out.  So why don’t we see if we can come to sort of arrangement where we don’t just throw you over the walls, and you can keep some of the dignity you’ve still got left.”

Fergus bows his head, defeated.  The Company agrees that he can stay on as a sort-of caretaker, but warns him that he’d have to pull his own weight plus a little more.  They find that he keeps a small garden behind the main building, enough to sustain him.  He’s got the well working, and he sleeps upon a straw and cloth mat in a squalid little room on the second floor.  He’s been keeping himself alive, but doing the bare minimum work necessary.

“You can start by cleaning up the grounds,” says Ernie.  

Grumbling, Fergus does what he’s told.  The rest make plans for fixing the place up proper.  Kibi knows many dwarven stonewrights in Hae Kalkas and Eggemoggin who they can pay for restoration work, and others who can serve as guards.  He’ll _teleport_ to his home village that night to start recruiting.

*Soon*

Kibi suddenly looks alarmed and alert.  He and Scree both think to the other: did you hear that?

“What is it, Kibi?” asks Flicker.

“I think those eyes that are watching me, I think they just said something!”

“What did the say?”  Everyone is attentive.

“They said, ‘soon.’”

“Soon what?” asks Grey Wolf.

“They didn’t say.”

“Oh, that’s helpful,” says Kay.

“Ominous,” says Grey Wolf.  “The word you’re looking for is “ominous.”


* *


The next day Morningstar awakes to find herself scratching at a patch of rash on her arm.  Curious, she drops into Ava Dormo; to her dismay the rash is on her there as well.  She almost cures herself as Ernie prepares breakfast, but decides to leave it be.

An hour later she and Dranko are standing in front of the Hae Kalkas Sages’ Consortium, having _wind walked_ there after eating.  They are soon seated with a plump middle-aged woman named Pearl, an expert on maladies from unusual sources.  She examines the patch on Morningstar’s arm.  She daubs droplets of various salves and ointments onto the rash and watches for reactions.  She asks them all sorts of questions about where they were and what they were doing in the time before the first instance occurred.  

Her final analysis:  “I don’t know.  My best guess would be that the dragon was related; there are records involving many variants of dragon-sickness.  The part I am most at a loss to explain is its recurrence.  When clerical magic is used to cure diseases, they don’t come back.  Except in your case.  Maybe something you still come into contact with on a daily basis is re-infecting you?”

By late afternoon the Company has gathered again at Longtooth Keep.  Kibi has returned from Eggemoggin with a couple of dwarves, who are checking the place out and making notes on what needs to be done.   Fergus is still grumbling as he pulls up weeds and makes piles of bone fragments.    

“I’ve talked with plenty of dwarves who would like to help,” says Kibi.  “I can have a small army of…”

*Come home*

“I don’t know that we need an army just yet,” says Dranko.  “We can always… uh… Kibi?  What’s the matter?  Eyes again?”

“Yeah,” says Kibi, looking worried.  “They said. ‘come home.’” 

“Which home?” asks Ernie.  “Do they mean Tal Hae, or Eggemoggin?”

They eyes, two blazing white crystals, shine in Kibi’s mind.  They offer no more advice, no more instruction.

“I think,” says Kibi slowly, “they mean the Greenhouse.”

The party spellcasters still have enough traveling mojo to get everyone back to the Greenhouse that evening.  For a few minutes everyone just sits around looking expectantly at Kibi.  Nothing happens.

“Uh, sorry, guys.  I guess the eyes will let me know if something is going to happen.  But now they’re just back to watching me.”

A discussion starts about the rash, and what else besides the dragon might be responsible.   Suspicion falls upon their recently-crafted _wand of cure serious wounds_.  Or maybe that vapor from the basement laboratory is responsible?  Nobody knows.

That night, Kibi dreams.

_*Abernia is your dream, and it cries out in pain, a cry that others do not hear.

The dream shifts.  You are the Earth, and you have been shot with an arrow of death.   At first you are calm; the arrow has shattered on the impenetrable stone of your being.  But no… while fragments are thrown back to land on your face, a shaft has wormed its way in and has lodged in your heart.  

You are yourself, but the pain of the world is still yours.   It burns like a black flame.   With a voice impossibly deep, Abernia itself contrives to speak to you.  “My child,” it intones, “This splinter cannot stay within me.  But its removal will bring about the end of all things.  It calls.”*_

He wakes with a clear memory of every word, every image, and the terrible pain of the earth..  The eyes are luminous in his mind, and Kibi realizes that he sees them now as part of the real world, superimposed over his normal vision.  He shares the dream with the others over breakfast.

“So you think you needed to be back here in the Greenhouse in order to have that dream?” asks Aravis.

“I don’t know,” says Kibi, deep in thought.  “Yeah.  I guess.”

“What does it mean?” asks Flicker.  “What’s the splinter?”

“I don’t know that either,” says Kibi helplessly.  “Earth, we could be a lot more helpful if you’d just ask for something clear.”

The eyes shine.

“They’re watching me all the time now,” says Kibi.  “If they expect something, they should…”

*Kibilhathur.  We want to speak with you.  The time is almost upon us.  Gather around us when two hours have gone past noon, and we will speak to you.  Bring your friends; they should all be present.*

“Oh,” Says Kibi faintly.  “That helps.”

He tells the others what he just heard.  

“That’s only three hours from now,” says Aravis.

“After all this bother, they’d better have something useful to say,” mutters Dranko.

* *

As the appointed draws near, the Company contacts Ozilinsh on the Crystal Ball and updates him on current events.  

“I agree,” says the Archmage.  “It sounds like the Eyes of Moirel have some announcement to make.  You be sure to let me know what it is; with any luck, it will have some bearing on the whereabouts or plans of Parthol Runecarver.”

The sun inches across the sky.  The Company fidgets, none more than Kibi, wondering what the Eyes will say.  The dwarf keeps looking out the window, watching the post-noon shadows start to lengthen.

“I think it’s time,” he says eventually.  The entire Company tromps down to the basement.  _Continual Flames_ on the wall illuminate the large room, still filled with laboratory equipment from their last magic-item-making spree.  A shaft of sunlight spills down the stairs as well, from a ground floor window.

Kibi walks over to the closet where the Eyes of Moirel are kept.  He can see them clearly, as if he has x-ray vision that penetrates through the closet door and the heavy locked trunk.  Scree rumbles along beside the dwarven wizard, as nervous as his master.   Kibi opens the door and drags out the trunk.  One by one he unlocks the heavy padlocks and unwraps the chains that are wound around the heavy chest.

Inside lay the two Eyes of Moirel; they glint in the ambient light.  Kibi gulps, reaches down…

…to be continued…


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Nooooooo! You can't leave it there! Argh!


----------



## Caliber

::does the secret happy dance::

Yay! Sagiro is back! As always, mucho cool! Yay!

(I see the habit of gut wrenching cliff hangers has been picked up)


----------



## thatdarncat

goody goody gum drops 

I guess no peeps for sagiro this year


----------



## Sagiro

A short but highly significant update.  

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 175*_

Around the dwarf the rest of the Company holds its collective breath, fearing that the Eyes of Moirel will leap into Kibi’s eye sockets to speak.   They are spared that gruesome sight; Kibi carefully picks up the Eyes, one in each hand.  Their glow seeps out through the gaps between his fingers.

“It is my vision, come to pass,” whispers Snokas.

Kibi turns to face the group, gripping the Eyes tightly.  His face holds a myriad of emotions – fear, excitement, anxiety, curiosity.  

“Whenever you’re ready,” he thinks.

Seconds pass that seem like an eternity.  It is just creeping into peoples’ minds that nothing is going to happen, when they start to feel the vibrations.  At first there is no sound, just a silent thrumming that buzzes through their bodies from all around.  Then a low rumble begins, sounding through the basement walls.  The Greenhouse is trembling, ever so slightly.

“Kibi?  Are you okay?” asks Ernie?

“Yes.  They aren’t saying anything.”

The rumble becomes louder, as if a small earthquake is shaking the foundations of the house.   An alembic on Aravis’ workbench starts to rattle.

In Kibi’s head, words form:  _*Earth Wizard, you are becoming what will be one with us.  Before the end you will descend, destroy, and open the door to your greatest fear.  But the journey from now to then is a journey from now to then to now, and many years lie ‘twixt key and door.  Now all of you… wait, for the time is almost upon you.*_

Kibi repeats what he heard to the others.  As they ponder the words, the Greenhouse creaks, as if a gale has started to blow outside.  The laboratory equipment is all a-clatter; a flask falls on its side, rolls off a table and shatters on the hard earth floor.   From upstairs they hear the sound of windows yammering in their frames.

The shaft of sunlight shining down through the stairwell goes out, as if the sun has been switched off.  And from Kibi’s mouth two voices speak, his own voice doubled, sounding in unison.  The Eyes in his hands glow brightly, purple and green, as the words come.

_*It has all come undone.  Your enemies unmake the world, but you shall not be unmade, and alone of all things you shall be remade.*_

Flicker bounds up the stairs in a panic.  It’s a bit past two in the afternoon, and all is dark outside.  And not just dark.  Lightless.  He runs to a window and puts his face to the glass, but there is nothing outside.  For all that he can see, the Greenhouse is floating in a great black void.  He runs back down to the others.

The Greenhouse groans as if something outside is trying to twist it apart.  All around them their glassware is rolling off of tables and benches, crashing onto the floor.  

The green Eye glows brightly, and from Kibi’s mouth comes its voice.

_* Outside the world is as it has always been – slaves, toil, fear, and the endless digging.  The Emperor drives them, always deeper into despair.  Evil beyond evil, and yet himself only a means to an end.  Fear him, but fear more his success.*_

There is a series of crashes from upstairs as jars and crockery fall from kitchen shelves.   Tiny cracks appear in the floor, the walls.  The sound of shaking and rattling becomes almost deafening, and it seems a miracle that the Greenhouse is not flying apart in a shower of beams and bricks.  Beyond the sound of the house is that of a wailing wind, or the scream of an unearthly voice.

The purple Eye flashes in Kibi’s hand, and his voice sounds clear above the din.

_*Inside the world is as it never was – hope, strength, freedom and the safety of foresight.  The Archmage crafted it, a haven to be anathema to your enemies’ designs.  Wise beyond wisdom, and yet himself only a means to an end.  Trust him, but trust more yourselves.*_

The Greenhouse quiets.

Is that all?

Sweat is dripping down Kibi’s face into his beard.  His grasping knuckles are pale.

A shaft of light again shines down the stairwell, but brighter, oh so much brighter.   From outside the Greenhouse shines a light brighter than a hundred suns, absolutely blinding, filling every window with its blaze.  

Both Eyes glow again, purple and green light intermingling with the powerful ambient sunlight from upstairs.  In his strange double voice Kibi speaks a final time.

*They are following back the path of Moirel.  They have always done so.  We cannot pursue them without our brother.  If you wish to travel nowhere, to unmake the world, bring us to the home of seven dark words and make us three.

Beware the world.*

The dazzling light goes out.  The Greenhouse is still.  Kibi’s hands open reflexively and the Eyes drop to the ground, quiescent.  He thinks:  “Scree?”

“I’m here, Kibilhathur.”

“Good.”

Some of the Company go upstairs.  The house is a mess.  Furniture has tipped over, glasses have broken, and the trophy case has disgorged its pelts, tentacles and other mementos onto the floor.  Eddings stands there, wide-eyed, Argol perched on his shoulder, Smeggy nestled in his arms.

“We seemed to have weathered the storm,” he says, voice trembling slightly.

Light, normal afternoon sunlight,  is coming in through the windows in thin bands.  Flicker walks to one of them and peers out.  He is surprised to find that the window has been boarded up from the outside!  

Faintly, from somewhere outside in the far streets of Tal Hae, there is a distant shriek.

…to be continued…

*Here ends Part One of The Adventures of Abernathy’s Company.*


----------



## Victim

Man, Part 1 of the AoAC was really short.  I hope the other parts have more meat to them.


----------



## Nail

........wow, are you guys screwed........


----------



## RangerWickett

*PART ONE?!?!?!?!*


----------



## Samnell

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Here ends Part One of The Adventures of Abernathy’s Company.* [/B]




175 parts in part 1. Here I thought I sucked at math.


----------



## Sagiro

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> *PART ONE?!?!?!?! *




Well, I've always envisioned the "grand story arc" as having two parts.   The first part was primarily about Emperor Naradawk's efforts to break through at Verdshane, and the Company's role in thwarting him.

The second part will be about... well, you'll see.  



-Sagiro


----------



## arwink

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Well, I've always envisioned the "grand story arc" as having two parts.   The first part was primarily about Emperor Naradawk's efforts to break through at Verdshane, and the Company's role in thwarting him.
> 
> The second part will be about... well, you'll see.
> *




You're leaving it there?

I now feel the need to vent:
*Bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard.*


----------



## Wolfspirit

You know, that update should have a disclaimer at the beginning: "Do not read if you've got a test or something in the next few hours that reading this might distract you from".

Now I keep having thoughts of "What... did the world fall down go boom?  Are they in the other side?  RBDM!"


----------



## Piratecat

We are so very, very screwed.  It's so much worse than you think.

Remember our various sets of enemies? Abernathy once said that our biggest advantage is that they didn't know about one another, or cooperate easily. We had the sharshun (and Sagiro Emberleaf), Mokad and the Black Circle, and the red armored warriors.

Well, we thwarted Mokad's attempts to bring across the armies of the emperor by (not) killing Greywolf when the spheres aligned. We thwarted the designs of the red armored warriors at the Battle of Verdshane. But.. err.. the sharshun have been really quiet lately, and Rosetta was concentrating on them, and, err...

And while we were having our victory parade and bossing people around with our new titles, *they have remade the world so that the Emperor never left.*


----------



## Wolfspirit

PCat, see above.  You're not helping.


----------



## Samnell

Piratecat said:
			
		

> And while we were having our victory parade and bossing people around with our new titles, *they have remade the world so that the Emperor never left.*




Cool! I wonder how many old friends and allies turn out to be loyal supporters of the only regime they've ever known now and want nothing to do with these dangerous criminals.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

arwink said:
			
		

> *
> 
> You're leaving it there?
> 
> I now feel the need to vent:
> Bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard.
> 
> *




I second this opinion, only with more bastards.


----------



## Enkhidu

Samnell, my guess would be not part, not most, but all of them. The only ones not affected by this strange turn of events were those actually in the Greenhouse.

Damn me and my inability to spell "Smamnell!"


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *From upstairs they hear the sound of windows yammering in their frames.
> *




Not only is this a nice bit of phrasing, it's a very apt description of what we were doing too.

Words cannot begin to describe the RBDM-ness of Sagiro.  Who I will now be calling Beef Rigamaroles in punishment.


----------



## Nail

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *We are so very, very screwed.  It's so much worse than you think......
> And while we were having our victory parade and bossing people around with our new titles, they have remade the world so that the Emperor never left. *



Yep.

PC, you know that feeling you get when you've been able to guess the story hour's direction, but are still absolutely amazed at the outcome??  

That's how I'm feeling right now.  

You guys are *so* "messed with".  And it's awful sweet from here.....


----------



## Vargo

One question I have - is there anything that the Company could have done to prevent this "remaking" of the world?

I don't recall seeing any hints in the story so far indicating that this was coming - and I don't see any way the company could have prevented it...

But on the other hand, the baker might actually be friendly now...


----------



## LightPhoenix

I for one would just like to applaud Sagiro... I had a feeling as well that something like this would happen.  Just one thing - WHY DIDN'T SNOKAS SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THIS?!?!?!

I would just like to point out that I don't think the players are quite as screwed as they think they are - I'm not really sure how much I should extrapolate, but two points that I think are readily obvious:

1)  They still have several powerful resources at their disposal. *cough*

2)  They already have two of three Eyes of Moriel, of which they only need one more to be able to unmake the world themselves.  

I forget how many Eyes there are, but I'd find it terribly amusing if there was a competition between the Sharshun and the heroes at unmaking the world - every few hours or so everything gets undone again...


----------



## Sagiro

Vargo said:
			
		

> *One question I have - is there anything that the Company could have done to prevent this "remaking" of the world?
> 
> I don't recall seeing any hints in the story so far indicating that this was coming - and I don't see any way the company could have prevented it...
> 
> But on the other hand, the baker might actually be friendly now... *



On the the one hand, no, the party was never given specific direction to stop this particular threat.

On the other hand, the party has known since very early on in the campaign approximately where the Sharhsun "hidden base" was.  They could have followed up on that avenue of investigation.

On the first hand, I kept them pretty busy with other problems.   And if they _had_ prevented the "unmaking," a whole bunch of my prophecies and records would have ended up looking pretty silly.  


-Sagiro


----------



## thatdarncat

gee, what a good impression on my new coworkers the gibbering under the desk makes.

thanks Sagiro, ever so much


----------



## Sagiro

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> *I for one would just like to applaud Sagiro... I had a feeling as well that something like this would happen.  Just one thing - WHY DIDN'T SNOKAS SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THIS?!?!?!
> *



Snokas didn't know anything.  His vision from Ell was that he and the Company were standing around in the Greenhouse watching Kibi, who was holding two gems in his hands.   That's all, and he did tell the party that much.  He didn't know _why_ they were gathered there, or what the fallout would be.

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> On the the one hand, no, the party was never given specific direction to stop this particular threat.
> 
> On the other hand, the party has known since very early on in the campaign approximately where the Sharhsun "hidden base" was.  They could have followed up on that avenue of investigation.
> 
> On the first hand, I kept them pretty busy with other problems.   And if they had prevented the "unmaking," a whole bunch of my prophecies and records would have ended up looking pretty silly.
> *




And on the other, other hand, not only have we know the Sharshun were up to something, we've known for a long time that they wanted to use the Eyes to "go nowhere".  And within the last year or so, we've gotten plenty of hints that going nowhere allowed you to do something heap powerful.

And on the other first hand, just before the Battle of Verdshane, we specifically asked El (during a _Commune_) if we should try to use the eyes to go nowhere or if we should go check on the Sharshun.  The word from the gods was "No, there's more important stuff to do."  D'oh.


----------



## Sagiro

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *
> ...And on the other first hand, just before the Battle of Verdshane, we specifically asked El (during a Commune) if we should try to use the eyes to go nowhere or if we should go check on the Sharshun.  The word from the gods was "No, there's more important stuff to do."  D'oh. *



For the record, the _commune_ in question was cast about two or three months before the battle at Verdshane, and the relevant questions (and answers) were as follows:

_Is leaving for Kivia in order to get the Eye of Moirel the best course of action to prevent the Emperor from coming through to Charagan?_

*NO*

_If we leave for Kivia in nine weeks, will the Crosser’s Maze be needed before we return, to prevent the Emperor from coming through to Charagan?_

*MOST LIKELY*

_Is pursuing the Sharshun the best course of action to prevent the Emperor from coming through to Charagan?_

*NO*

Note that in all cases, the questions clearly concerned the Emperor's plan to breach the Gate at Verdshane.

Not that the Company did anything that I wouldn't have done in their shoes; I don't mean to imply that their plans were bad.  Quite the opposite; my players take of a lot of well-spent time to review information, prophecies, strategies, etc. before acting.

-Sagiro


----------



## Zaruthustran

Coooooool.

It's like Sliders, with less Gimli.

-z


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> Is leaving for Kivia in order to get the Eye of Moirel the best course of action to prevent the Emperor from coming through to Charagan?
> 
> NO
> 
> If we leave for Kivia in nine weeks, will the Crosser’s Maze be needed before we return, to prevent the Emperor from coming through to Charagan?
> 
> MOST LIKELY
> 
> Is pursuing the Sharshun the best course of action to prevent the Emperor from coming through to Charagan?
> 
> NO
> *




That's the problem with _Commune_.  Garbage in, garbage out.  D'oh and double d'oh.


----------



## Pillars of Hercules

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> On the the one hand, no, the party was never given specific direction to stop this particular threat.
> 
> On the other hand, the party has known since very early on in the campaign approximately where the Sharhsun "hidden base" was.  They could have followed up on that avenue of investigation.
> 
> On the first hand, I kept them pretty busy with other problems.   And if they had prevented the "unmaking," a whole bunch of my prophecies and records would have ended up looking pretty silly.
> 
> 
> -Sagiro *





I think the reference you're looking for in the third paragraph is "On the gripping hand..."

PS A somewhat obscure sci-fi reference shouldn't obscure my praise for this story.  I'm a mega-lurker but love it!


----------



## Sagiro

Pillars of Hercules said:
			
		

> *
> I think the reference you're looking for in the third paragraph is "On the gripping hand..."
> 
> PS A somewhat obscure sci-fi reference shouldn't obscure my praise for this story.  I'm a mega-lurker but love it! *



Always glad to hear from lurkers who enjoy the story!

-Sagiro

p.s. I was never a big Larry Niven fan.  Great ideas, mediocre writing, IMHO.  

p.p.s. Though I never actually read "The Gripping Hand," so I probably shouldn't talk.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 176*_

“This is weird.”

Everyone turns to look at Flicker.

“Which part?” asks Grey Wolf.  “You mean the part where something almost tore the Greenhouse to pieces?  Or the part where the Eyes of the Moirel made awful-sounding proclamations through Kibi?  Or the part where…”

“I mean that there’s a wall right on the other side of this window that wasn’t here this morning.  It’s only about five feet away.  And it's a _stone_ wall.”

Tal Hae has always been known as the Great Wooden City, since there are city ordinances against stonework.   Although few in the Kingdom know why, the Company knows that a powerfully augmented _rock-to-mud_ spell was cast here long ago, so powerful that “aftershocks” are still possible.

“The door’s boarded up as well,” says Step.

“Someone wanted to keep us in here?” muses Aravis.  “They must not know us very well.”

“Smells smoky outside,” comments Kibi.  “Like a big fire is burning somewhere in town.”

“I’m going to scout,” says Morningstar.  “In Ava Dormo, I mean,” she adds, cutting off several objections.  She sits down and enters a trance.

In the Dreamscape, buildings exist as they do in the real world.  She has seen Tal Hae many times in Dream, an empty metropolis save for the guarded temples of Ell.  What she sees now is not the Tal Hae she knows.

The earth beneath the city is for the most part the same.  The river flows where it should, and the ground beneath rises west-to-east to a sudden hill on which the Ducal Palace should be set.  The palace is not there.  What _is_ there is utterly terrifying.

A huge black fortress rises menacingly from the hilltop, many times large than Duke Nigel’s castle.  Made of metal and stone, it is an evil-looking heap of towers, ramparts and battlements.   Worst of all, it is heavily guarded _in Ava Dormo._  Rather than risk detection or capture, Morningstar drops out her trance and reports to the others.

“What’s happened?” asks Step.  “The words that the Eyes spoke through Kibi… what did they mean?”

“From what little evidence we have, I would say there are two likely choices,” says Aravis.  “One is that we have somehow been sent back in time to a point when the Emperor is still in control of things.”

“Ugh,” opines Grey Wolf.

“I’m afraid to ask what you think the second is,” says Flicker.

“It’s also possible,” continues Aravis, “that someone has contrived to alter history.  It is still the present, but things have changed in the past such that the Emperor won.”

Everyone chews on that for a moment.

“God damn it!” Dranko explodes.  “You mean that everything we did… stopping the Black Circle, and then keeping the Emperor out of Verdshane, and us getting titles and a castle and being all famous… it was all for nothing?  That Naradawk just changed the past and wham!  It turns out he wins after all?  That… that sucks!”

“We don’t know that’s what happened,” says Aravis.  “It’s just a guess.”

“But it makes sense,” says Morningstar.  “’The world is as it has always been’,” the Eyes said.  “If it’s always been this way, that means someone changed the past.”

“We didn’t get changed though,” says Snokas.

“No,” says Ernie.  “Because the Greenhouse kept us safe.   Somehow it kept us outside of the effect.”

“What did it mean, ‘they are following back the path of Moirel?’” asks Kay.

“I wrote down what the Eyes said about Moirel last time,” says Aravis.  He finds the parchment and reads:

_"Condor is a name you heard long ago, greatest of Naloric’s inner circle. He drove a spike through the fabric of all things, and locked the hole with seven keys. He told Naloric that it would be necessary, to correct future mistakes that could not be corrected. The Emperor was a skeptic, like all great men. He demanded that Condor’s daughter, Moirel, be the first to go through, as a test. Seven keys she held, and she plunged into the hole that her father had made. She emerged whole in body, but broken in mind. The keys were scattered, and Moirel wandered far to find them, until she forgot who she was. She had no Focus. She had no Opener. She had no hope. _

“I don’t get it,” says Flicker.

“I think it means it’s time to go find Het Branoi,” says Ernie.  We have to ‘travel nowhere’ to fix things, and for that we need the third Eye of Moirel.

“Our first order of business should be to find out what’s outside,” says Morningstar.  “I want to know what the rest of Tal Hae is like, and if we’re likely to be found and captured if we step foot outside.”

“I have just the thing,” says Kibi.  “_Prying eyes._”

“I also have just the thing,” says Dranko.  “Me, _invisible_.”

“Kibi’s spell is safer,” says Kay.

“My _eyes_ can gather information with much less risk to ourselves,” says Kibi. 

“How far can they go?” asks Flicker.

“A mile,” answers the dwarf.  “We can learn a great deal from them about what’s going on in Tal Hae.”

“I can go a lot further than a mile if necessary,” says Dranko. 

“No, Dranko, it’s too dangerous,” Morningstar admonishes.  “And there’s no reason to risk yourself yet; the eyes can go first.”

“What I’ll do,” says Kibi, “is have them spread out, looking for anything and everything interesting.   I’ll tell half of them to come back in 10 minutes, and then one more each hour for the duration.”

“I could go out at the same time,” says Dranko, peering out a boarded-up window.  “I don’t see why you guys are making such a…”

“Dranko!”  Kay turns of the half-orc with a furious look in her eyes.  “It’s clear what you want.  You want to put all of us at greater risk just to satisfy your own restless itch.  You want to do what’s most exciting for you, not what’s best for all of us.  What if you get captured, or killed?  What position does that put the rest of us in?  Stop thinking about yourself for just a minute.”

Everyone looks at Kay, taken aback but impressed.

“I just want to _do_ something,” says Dranko angrily.  “We need information more than anything else, and I can get it.”

“Kay’s right,” says Ernie, gently.  “We need information, and we have a way to get it without putting you or anyone else at risk.  If Kibi’s _eyes_ show that it’s safe, then you can go out scouting.”

Dranko fumes for a moment, glares at Kay, then turns his back on the group and stomps upstairs.

“He shows the stress that we all feel,” says One Certain Step.  “I don’t blame him.”

“I do,” says Kay.  “This is exactly when we can’t afford to be stupid.”

Kibi casts his spell, and sends a half-dozen tiny sensors out into the city.

While they wait for the _eyes_ to come back, Aravis tries _scrying_ for Tor.  “Maybe in this reality he’s alive and somewhere we can find him.”   No such luck, alas.

Eventually the _prying eyes_ start to return, where their “knowledge” is downloaded directly into Kibi’s brain.  He shares his new information with the Company.

“The Greenhouse is in the center of a mostly-abandoned ghetto.  It’s surrounded on all sides by other buildings, closely packed together.  Even the front door opens out onto a narrow alley.  All of the buildings in this neighborhood are boarded up.  There’s a person two buildings over, sleeping or dead.

“There are almost no people on the streets, either, given that it’s late afternoon on a warm fall day.   One of the _eyes_ found what looks like an armory, guarded by two well-armed humans.   There are other guards scattered throughout the streets, guarding various buildings and intersections.  Not all that many, but more than there are ordinary citizens.  It’s strange.  Several _eyes_ saw people, individuals or pairs, hurrying through the streets.  One of them was stopped by a city guardsman and asked to produce papers.”

“Sounds like martial law,” mutters Step.

“It gets worse,” says Kibi.  “The last _eye_ saw a group of twenty slaves, chained together and led by four armed guards.  They looked fit but tired, and none of them offered any resistance.  They were herded through the streets to a large stone building and marched inside.

“But the most interesting things that my _eyes_ saw were the mines.  At least, I think they were mines.  There are four of them within a mile of the Greenhouse, wide avenues that angle down into the ground until they become tunnels.  Don’t what’s inside them, though… none of the _eyes_ went in.”

“It’s a good thing the Greenhouse is tucked away like it is,” says Flicker.  “I don’t think the people running Tal Hae would be happy to find us here.”

There is another horrid scream in the distance.

“No kidding,” says Grey Wolf.

“It _does_ sound like it would be safe for Flicker and I to go scouting,” says Dranko.  “Kay, I… I apologize for before.  You were absolutely right.  I was putting my own desires ahead of the greater good.   If we’re going to get through this, I’ll need to be smarter.”

“Apology accepted,” says Kay.  “We’re all on edge.  Our whole world has been turned upside-down.  I’m sorry that I lost my temper.”

Dranko and Kay share a look of mutual understanding, which is interrupted by Ernie piping up.

“Awwww, I’m glad to see you two are…”

Dranko and Kay both turn to the halfling and speak as one.

“Shut up Ernie.” 

Morningstar casts _Rary’s telepathic bond_ connecting herself with Dranko, Flicker and Aravis.   Kay uses the woodcutter sword to slice through the boards on an upstairs window while the wizards make Flicker and Dranko invisible.  The two rogues slip out of the window and into the deepening dusk.

Dranko relays what he sees back to the others via the _telepathic bond,_ as he makes his quiet way into the heart of Tal Hae.  As he expects, the streets are nearly empty.  There are homes, some shops, lots of barracks and armories, and some buildings of governance; he pulls up short in front of one of these.  A large red and black banner hangs above the doorway of a large municipal building, bearing a strange design that Dranko has not seen in a long time.

“It’s from those rings,” he thinks to the others.

“Rings?”

“You remember our very first mission for Abernathy?  To find that ring underneath Gohgan’s shop?  And that ring has a weird device on it?  That design seems to be the symbol of the ruler of this city.  And judging by the words carved above the building, it’s not called Tal Hae.  It’s called “Pyke Vale.”

“I know that name,” says Morningstar.  “When I spied on a dream-conversation between Meledien and Octesian, she referred to Abernathy as “the wizard of Pyke Vale.”

“Hold on,” thinks Dranko.  “Another slave march is coming.  It’s just like Kibi’s _eye_ saw.  There’s about two dozen slaves chained together.  They’ve got the muscles of hard laborers and the expressions of the damned.   They’ve probably been slaves a long time.  They have… tattoos on their cheeks.  Or maybe branding marks.  It looks like the same symbol as on the banner.”

Flicker interrupts.  “I’ve reached one of those mine thingies that Kibi saw with his spell.  Whoa.”

“What do you see, Flicker?” thinks Dranko over the link.

“There’s some kind of giant machine right near the entrance to the mine.  It has a huge furnace next to it, belching smoke into the air.  And I mean huge… it’s the size of a small house!  There are cables and ropes running  from the machine into the mine, looped through a complicated pulley system.. Three large flatbed carts are pulled up at the mine entrance, empty.  There are a few guards milling around, but the operation seems to have shut down for the night, whatever it is.  I could go scout around inside the mine if you wanted.   It might be…”

“No!” several voices sound across the _telepathic bond_.

“I’m coming back then” thinks Flicker, disappointed.  “There aren’t a lot of lights burning in Pyke Vale, and I don’t see in the dark like Dranko can.”

Dranko continues to scout.  “I’ve reached a more upscale part of town.  Lots of nicer houses.  I’m going to peek in a window. “

A minute later:  “Oooooh, nice.  That’s some fancy looking furniture.  Nice artwork, too.”

“Don’t steal anything,” admonishes Aravis.

“Or at least don’t get caught,” adds Flicker.

“No breaking and entering tonight,” thinks Dranko.  “I have some more streets to check out.”

He roams for a few more blocks. 

“Hey, sounds like a smithy.  Someone’s working late.  

Pause.

“I hate this place.  There’s a smith here.  He’s chained to his forge, pounding away at a sword blade.  There are two guards standing nearby, eating and having a good laugh.  At least the smith doesn’t have a tattoo.  Screw it, I’m coming home.  I’ll let you know if I see anything interesting on the way back.”

A few minutes later:  “There’s a horse and carriage coming.  The driver has a lamp, and I can hear the horses.  Must be someone in the nobility.  I’ll just hide here in the shadows and take a look when it rides by.  Here it comes.  It’s… oh, crap.  The markings on the carriage.  We know those.  It’s Delfirian.”

“The Nifi?” thinks Morningstar.  “Pyke Vale is ruled by the fire worhippers?”

“More likely it’s just a visiting dignitary,” says Aravis.  “Remember, in the old days, the Delfirians controlled the Balani Peninsula and the Isles of Forquelle.  If the Emperor never lost, the Delfirians are probably still there.”

Dranko and Flicker return to the Greenhouse undetected.  Dranko sums up their situation.

“This sucks.”

Kay lets out a long breath.

“We should have let the turtle win,” she says despondently. 

…to be continued…


----------



## thatdarncat

again with the gibbering under the desk

my coworkers are starting to shift their workstations away from me...


----------



## Swack-Iron

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “We should have let the turtle win,” she says despondently.
> [/B]




I thought the telling line was "We should have let the turtle win."

I think I see Sagiro's grand design now. Had the party let the Collosus win at, um, Hae Kalkas was it? Had they turned left instead of right, then they would have spent all the adventure time up to this point stopping the evil plot to change the past. Which meant that they wouldn't have quested for the Crosser's Maze, and the Emperor would have brought his armies across virtually unopposed.

Wow.

Sagiro's a real Rat Bastard!

What hints do we have about who's behind this evil deed?


----------



## Ancalagon

Wow.

Rat bastard indeed!

I'm impressed! 

Ancalagon


----------



## Kaodi

*Altered Reality*

Jeez, Sagiro, you really set us all up to take a fall... here we are, thinking, " They've saved the world, they have this nice new castle, something new a little relaxing, if still deadly and painful,  is going to happen... TIME WARP... " and here we are.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

Swack-Iron said:
			
		

> *What hints do we have about who's behind this evil deed? *



I believe the current theory is that it's a result of the Sharshun.  I do seem to remember at least one of the buggers running out into the Mirrors of Semek (sp?) and vanishing.

What I want to know is, have we accounted for all of the Eyes of Moirel?  The Company has two, one is in Kivia...where are the other four?  Are they in the hands of the Sharshun?


----------



## Zaruthustran

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 176
> 
> “You remember our very first mission for Abernathy?  To find that ring underneath Gohgan’s shop?  And that ring has a weird device on it?  That design seems to be the symbol of the ruler of this city.  And judging by the words carved above the building, it’s not called Tal Hae.  It’s called “Pyke Vale.”
> 
> “I know that name,” says Morningstar.  “When I spied on a dream-conversation between Meledien and Octesian, she referred to Abernathy as “the wizard of Pyke Vale.”
> *




This is the part that creeps me out the most. If Abernathy is known as "the Wizard of Pyke Vale", and this alternate Tal Hae is called Pyke Vale, then maybe this evil reality is the real reality and the Tal Hae reality--what we know and love--is the fakey one. 

Maybe, originally, the Emperor did win except for the efforts of Abernathy and co, who went back in time and altered things. Now the bad guys have set things as they were. And our heroes have to change it again.

Or did I miss something: Tal Hae was previously known as Pyke Vale, and the "wizard of Pyke Vale" thing can be explained by the fact that Abernathy was really, really old?

-z, head hurts


----------



## Wolfspirit

I'm assuming that the area that now is (?) called Tal Hae once was (now is?) Pyke Vale.

Supposedly Abernathy lived to be about 997 years old, give or take a few, so I don't think he could have been hanging around from before the defeat of the Empire.  If the masking took place about 1000 years ago, even if that is just a neat number, a teenager or younger wouldn't be considered much of a wizard.  Of course, there is the possibility that Abernathy WAS older than he even let on, but I think people would have noticed.

Doesn't one of the Company have the nickname of the "Opener"?  Kibi, maybe? I think that the Opener needs to use the 3 Eyes (keys) to change things... I wonder if there are now 9 Eyes, what with the new time frame and everything.

Anyway, my last rambling before I go back to studying: Does Het Branoi have the distinction of being a home to seven dark words?  If not, then they probably won't find an Eye there.  One thing to think about is the fact that a lot of portable things won't be in the same place.


----------



## Piratecat

We're 95% sure that there IS an eye in Het Brannoi.  

There were seven Eyes of Moirel; we have two (one taken from Lizardo the great big lizard, and one taken long ago from a crystal skeleton at our recently gifted keep.) According to them, one is unclaimed at Het Brannoi.  As far as we now know, the sharshun have the other three -- and you need three to "travel nowhere," whatever that means. We think the sharshun did so to unmake the world.

Interestingly enough, Ernie immediately came up with the idea that "the House of Seven Dark Words" might actually be a home of someone in Djaw!  It's certainly the right naming style (such as "One Certain Step," or Dranko's assumed name of "One Slippery Slope.")  It's a cool theory that hadn't occurred to me, and certainly sounds better than a scary bad place.

Your theories that "our" reality is the fake one are really disturbing, and unfortunately might be borne out by various hints. We haven't really considered that in character... but I keep remembering that one bad guy saying, "We were here first!"  

I believe the word we're looking for is "crap."


----------



## Caliber

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> *
> 
> This is the part that creeps me out the most. If Abernathy is known as "the Wizard of Pyke Vale", and this alternate Tal Hae is called Pyke Vale, then maybe this evil reality is the real reality and the Tal Hae reality--what we know and love--is the fakey one.
> 
> Maybe, originally, the Emperor did win except for the efforts of Abernathy and co, who went back in time and altered things. Now the bad guys have set things as they were. And our heroes have to change it again.
> 
> Or did I miss something: Tal Hae was previously known as Pyke Vale, and the "wizard of Pyke Vale" thing can be explained by the fact that Abernathy was really, really old?
> 
> -z, head hurts *




I read it that the city of Tal Hae was once known as Pyke Vale, and when the Emporer was booted out it was changed to Tal Hae (something the other guys would never have learned)

But the whole already changed and now changing back thing is a lot cooler.


----------



## LightPhoenix

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *Interestingly enough, Ernie immediately came up with the idea that "the House of Seven Dark Words" might actually be a home of someone in Djaw!  It's certainly the right naming style (such as "One Certain Step," or Dranko's assumed name of "One Slippery Slope.")  It's a cool theory that hadn't occurred to me, and certainly sounds better than a scary bad place.
> *




Well, how has Djaw changed since the Emperor is in power?  I don't think that there are any friendly good places in Sagiro's world...

Technically the unmaking of the world (which in itself implies that the world was artifically made in the first place) could have had two effects on the Eyes.  Either the Eyes have a variable existence based on what happened, or they are independant of the unmaking.  Since the two eyes remained in the group's possession it's relatively safe to assume the Eyes maintain a constant existence, and will be in Het Branoi.


----------



## Zustiur

*Goodness Me.*

mmmm Sagiroy Goodness. Or badness if you prefer to think of it that way.

My guess says: the situation is exactly as written, without any between the lines stuff: that is to say, all that happened in the Part 1 past is true, and then the sharshun got hold of a third eye and rewrote history.

Futhermore; Since the eyes of Moirel are required to reshape history, they can not be increased in number. Else it would be too easy to rewrite history.

As for Albernathy being "the wizard of Pyke Vale", I got with the theory that he is called that simply because he comes from the city that the bad guys refer to as Pyke Vale. They just don't care what the new inhabitants called it.

Point 4, that was a seriously powerful switch between part 1 and part 2, and fully deserves all the credit we can impart on Sagiro 

Excellent work.

One question for Sagiro: do you speak for Kibi when he is relating what the eyes tell him, or have you been handing him notes to read out?

Zustiur.


----------



## Destil

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> *Well, how has Djaw changed since the Emperor is in power?  I don't think that there are any friendly good places in Sagiro's world...*



Well, the Delfirians, allied with Skewn, are from the other contentinent... who knows what kind of trouble the're making with his help over in Kivia.

Too much that's good here to comment on all the specifics, guess I'll just pick one point... uhm, nice use of prying eyes. Always liked that spell.


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

I'm hoping that this "go nowhere" world will give us an opportunity to explore some "forgotten" plot-threads such as the "Wilberforce Legacy"


----------



## Galfridus

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *We're 95% sure that there IS an eye in Het Brannoi.
> 
> There were seven Eyes of Moirel; we have two (one taken from Lizardo the great big lizard, and one taken long ago from a crystal skeleton at our recently gifted keep.) According to them, one is unclaimed at Het Brannoi.  As far as we now know, the sharshun have the other three -- and you need three to "travel nowhere," whatever that means.*




Uh, I get six from that statement. Maybe the seventh is in your sock drawer.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Galfridus said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Uh, I get six from that statement. Maybe the seventh is in your sock drawer.  *




Actually, Morel ran all seven through the washer and dryer, and wouldn't you know it, only six came out of the dryer.  I hate it when that happens.


----------



## Sagiro

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Actually, Morel ran all seven through the washer and dryer, and wouldn't you know it, only six came out of the dryer.  I hate it when that happens. *



The 7th Eye of Moirel is inhabiting and animating a crimson crystal sock puppet and remaking reality inside your laundry room!  

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

Well, would he mind cleaning the cat box, and maybe doing some ironing while he's in there?  Jeeze.  Freeloading Eyes of Morel.


----------



## Plane Sailing

Hey Sagiro - I take a couple of months holiday from reading your storyhour (so I can read several bits in one go) and I'm gobsmacked at what has happened! Being a RBDM is all about the switcheroo, but I've never dreamt of such a big one as this! - many congratulations!

Great responses by the PC's too... kudos to all for making this sound like a novel rather than a game in an upstairs room


----------



## Wolfspirit

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *Well, would he mind cleaning the cat box?*




Cleaning the litterbox of Piratecat?  I can see why you might need some help from an Artifact


----------



## Number47

When the heroes re-rebuild the world, they might be able to tie up a few loose plot hooks also. They can just rewrite things so they don't have free the dwarven slaves and Kay doesn't have to go serve the fiendish ogre.

The other big question is, does this mean Sagiro will be continuing the story in a new thread?


----------



## Ciaran

So, does the remade world have a living Abernathy?  The Abernathy the Company knew ended his life of his own will, so he could still be alive if he felt he was still needed.  On the other hand, this world's Abernathy might not be benign...

- Eric


----------



## Galfridus

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *Well, would he mind cleaning the cat box, and maybe doing some ironing while he's in there?  Jeeze.  Freeloading Eyes of Morel. *




Darnit, now you've gone and lost another 'i'!


----------



## KidCthulhu

Ciaran said:
			
		

> *So, does the remade world have a living Abernathy?  The Abernathy the Company knew ended his life of his own will, so he could still be alive if he felt he was still needed.  On the other hand, this world's Abernathy might not be benign...
> 
> - Eric *




Sorry Eric, but there's no joy on that front.  We did some _Scrying_ and other divinations, and as far as we can tell, none of the Archmagi from our time exist here.  Their great-great grandparents never met, because they were too busy being enslaved, digging big holes, etc.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Sorry Eric, but there's no joy on that front.  We did some Scrying and other divinations, and as far as we can tell, none of the Archmagi from our time exist here.  Their great-great grandparents never met, because they were too busy being enslaved, digging big holes, etc. *



Does that include Parthol Runecarver?


----------



## KidCthulhu

Yep.  This world is clearly 1000 some years of _very_ different history, not just some bizzare Star Trek mirror universe.  We're not likely to meet anyone we know, and certainly not with little goatees.

More's the shame, really.  I was looking forward to saintly Turlis and Mrs. Horn the evil dominatrix.


----------



## Piratecat

> I was looking forward to saintly Turlis and Mrs. Horn the evil dominatrix.




Ernie is a strange, strange little halfling. Either that, or you're channeling for Dranko.


----------



## Sialia

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *Yep.  This world is clearly 1000 some years of very different history, not just some bizzare Star Trek mirror universe.  We're not likely to meet anyone we know, and certainly not with little goatees.
> 
> More's the shame, really.  I was looking forward to saintly Turlis and Mrs. Horn the evil dominatrix. *




Now dearest, no regrets. 

Her domination/bondage episode with Turlis never made primetime in the old universe anyway.

_This_ way, at least you haven't missed out on anything.


----------



## RangerWickett

*blink*

Mrs. Horn with Herr Turlis?  Eh?  Where's that smiley where the eyes are all screwy?


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *Yep.  This world is clearly 1000 some years of very different history, not just some bizzare Star Trek mirror universe.  We're not likely to meet anyone we know, and certainly not with little goatees.*




I bet Farazil exists in this world. 

What you need is a "Guinan" character walking around saying "this is wrong, everything is wrong".


----------



## KidCthulhu

MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> *
> What you need is a "Guinan" character walking around saying "this is wrong, everything is wrong". *




We don't have the budget for Whoopi cameos.  We tried putting a dead flumph on Ernies head and having him dispense drinks, but it wasn't the same.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 177*_

“So what should we do then?” asks Flicker, after a few moments of depressed silence.

“Het Branoi,” says Aravis.  “I don’t see any reason not to make that our first priority."

“Would we use the rope,” asks Kay, “or try the Gartine Arch?”

“Rope?” asks Snokas.

“We have a rope that will take us directly back to Kivia,” explains Ernie.  “But we don’t know how many more times it will work.   If we use it to go there, it might not work to get us back.”

“I came through the Arch,” says Snokas.  “But I snuck through.  I doubt we could get a group this big past the Delfirians.”

“And we don’t know if it’s more guarded or less guarded in this reality,” points out Grey Wolf.

“We need more information,” says Morningstar.

“It might not matter,” says Aravis suddenly.

When everyone turns to look at him, he adds:

“Maybe the Uncrossable Sea isn’t uncrossable anymore.  It’s possible I could simply _teleport_ us there.  I can try tomorrow morning.”

Everyone is quiet again for a minute, thinking.

“It’s late,” says Flicker.  “I’ve had a long day.  Unless you want me to go sneaking around some more, I’m going to bed.”

“We all should,” says Ernie.  “I’ll be up early to make us some breakfast, unless Skorg beats me to the Icebox.  Skorg, I don’t want to wake up to the smell… of…”

He trails off.

“Say, where is Skorg, anyhow?”

“Maybe he want to bed already?” suggests Flicker.

“I’ll check his room,” says Eddings.

“He was down in the basement with us, right?” asks Dranko, pensively.  “I mean… he was, wasn’t he?”

But no one remembers seeing Skorg there.  

“He’s not in his room,” says Eddings, coming back down to the living room.  “Or in the secret room.  Shall I check the basement?”

“I’ll be he went outside,” says Morningstar.  “He usually goes off by himself when we’re doing something dangerous.”

“But,” cries Flicker, “if he was outside when whatever happened happened, and only people inside the Greenhouse were protected…?”

“I guess Skorg was never born!” says Kibi, trying really, really hard not to look as pleased as he feels.

“Well, if we fix what’s happened, that should bring him back,” says Dranko.  “And in the meantime I’ll have to start looking around for another torchbearer.  ”

The Company sleeps, their first night in a strange new world.


* *


“Damn.”

“Didn’t work?” asks Flicker.

Aravis shakes his head.   “No _teleporting_ to Kivia, I’m afraid.”

“Now what?” Flicker pesters.

“First things first,” says Morningstar.  “Who’s got the rash this morning?”

Everyone looks at everyone else, but no one speaks up.

“Hey, something good came out of all this!” says Ernie brightly.  “Whatever causes the rash doesn’t exist in this reality.”

“Which means that if we ever solve this mess,” says Grey Wolf, “we have more mystery-itch to look forward to.”

Over breakfast the Company makes a thorough review of the various prophecies spoken by the Eyes of Moirel, bits of relevant conversations they’ve had, books they’ve read – anything that might help them in their current predicament.  The signs still point to Het Branoi, and the need to find a third Eye of Moirel.  The only question is:  go there straight away, or wait to collect more information about what Charagan has become.

The majority of Company sentiment is for the second of these options.   As long as they can go undetected there is no immediate rush, and many in the group want to know more of the “new” world.   And Kibi is keen to scribe the spell _non-detection_ into his books, which will take a few days anyhow.

So begins three days of information gathering, in which most of the Company remains safely inside the Greenhouse.   More _prying eyes_ are sent out to scour the city for a mile around the house.  And most usefully, individuals are made _invisible_ and then sent _wind walking_ to observe everything possible about Pyke Vale and its environs.   From these scouting missions the Company is able to piece together a fairly complete picture of what they've landed in.

Pyke Vale is about the same size as Tal Hae, but the population is difficult to measure.  This is because groups of slaves, all dressed in uniform drab grays or browns, are constantly being shuttled down into the mysterious mines, and then back again to be herded either into buildings or large outdoor holding pens.  One thing is clear: the slaves are more numerous than the free citizens.  And most of the latter seem to be armed; there is a highly disproportionate number of soldiers and barracks in Pyke Vale, as if its ruler expects to march off to conquer his neighbor at any moment.   

Disturbingly, there are no children in the city.

Atop the hill sits the grand fortress that Morningstar observed in Ava Dormo.  It is ringed by stone walls with iron gates, guarded by hundreds of men on the ground, and dozens more upon walls behind the parapets.   Even _invisible_ and _wind walking_, the Company stays outside the inner walls of the fortress, fearing a magical alarm.

The strangest feature of Pyke Vale lies beneath the earth.  The mines aren’t mines at all, in the sense that valuable ores or gems are their purpose.  Instead, thousands of slaves appear to be put to work simply to expand the city downward.   Already there are roads, crude buildings, living quarters, built in the large hollowed-out spaces beneath Pyke Vale.  And yet there is always more digging, downward, downward, not following valuable veins of anything.  Just downward.  It’s baffling, especially considering the huge effort (and expense, no doubt) required for the undertaking.   All day the huge machines are run, connected to their pulleys and cables that help haul the endless fill up from the caverns below.  Forest-loads of wood are carted into the city to be fed into the monstrous furnaces that power the machines.  Hundreds of slaves shovel the constant stream of fill onto dozens of elongated carts, which are driven out of the city to the Waste Piles in a constant stream.  “Waste Piles” is the name for the hundreds of acres east of Pyke Vale used as a dumping ground, where mountains of rock, mud and debris blot the landscape as far as the eye can see.   It stands in stark contrast to the abundant fields north of the city, where yet more slaves tend the crops that feed Pyke Vale.

After three days The Company is unanimous in their intense dislike for the city and whoever runs it.  The only real bone of contention is what to do about the person Kibi’s _prying eyes_ discovered on their first day in Pyke Vale, alone in a building less than 50 yards from the Greenhouse.  Every once in a while someone peers through a boarded window to check on him; he is always curled up in a ball in the corner of an empty room, probably sleeping. 

“I don’t see the point,” grumbles Aravis.  “What can he tell us that we don’t already know?   I think the real question is whether we should go to Djaw to find this “Seven Dark Words,” or just head straight for Het Branoi.”

“It’s possible that person could tell us something useful,” says Kay.  “And I’d like to know if the slaves here are criminals.”

“It’s dangerous,” says Grey Wolf.  “Do we want _anyone_ in this place knowing that we’re here?”

“He doesn’t seem like the sort of person who’d report us to the authorities,” says Ernie.  “He’s probably a slave who’s escaped.  He’s got a mark on his face.”

“We can check easily enough,” says Dranko.  “We could bring him back to the Greenhouse and question him.  I can just knock him out, and…”

“…or I could cast _sleep_,” points out Aravis.   “We don’t _have_ to hit everyone over the head.”

“Yeah, I guess we could do that,” mutters Dranko.

“We can get some information without waking him up,” says Morningstar.  “I can cast _memory read_ while he’s asleep.  If he wakes up during the spell, Aravis can be ready to put him back to sleep magically.  We can _wind walk_ over there to avoid waking up him getting into his house.”

So that’s what they do.   After some discussion they agree to delve for two memories:  one of how the man became a slave, and another of how he escaped.   Morningstar, Aravis and Dranko slip gaseously beneath the door and into the man’s building.  It’s a small, squalid one-room hovel.  The man is lying in the fetal position up against a wall, on a rough pile of dirty rags.  Scattered around the room are the remains of meager meals, rotting and smelly.  There is no furniture.  

The three members of the Company coalesce in the room, Morningstar standing above the sleeping man.  She can see the slave mark on his left cheek; at this close distance she can tell it’s a brand.  And that's not the only mark on his body -- his face, arms and hands are covered with burn scars, but not from branding.   Whatever caused them, they've long since healed naturally, and Morningstar thinks the man is very lucky not to have developed infection.  Shaking her head she casts a silent _memory read_ and gently touches the man’s arm, targeting the memory of when the man first became a slave.  The man stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake, and Morningstar…

_*…is a ten-year-old boy, sitting on a bunk.   The bunk is one of many, as is the boy.  The room is large and crowded with children and beds, maybe 50 of each.   Two adult guards stand near the only door.  Candles light the room with an inadequate glow.  There are no windows.

Each child wears a plain gray tunic and no shoes.  Most are nibbling on hunks of hard bread.  All have fear in their eyes.

The door opens and a adult male enters.  All of the children look up anxiously, some of them shrinking back in their beds.  The man points at another child, a girl of about eight, and snaps his fingers.  The girl slides sullenly off her bunk and shuffles over to the door.  The man points again, at a different boy two bunks down.  That boy doesn’t move; the man strides quickly over, grabs the child, and hauls him back to stand with the girl. 

Then the bad man points at him.  

Morningstar stands… he stands, slowly, still chewing, and walks  to join the other two children.  Five more children are selected, and are ordered to follow the man out of the room.  They are led into a dimly-lit hallway and marched a long way, past several more rooms full of children.  From somewhere up ahead comes the sound of a boy screaming.  He cringes.  One of the girls in his group of eight starts to whimper.  The man cuffs her on the ear.

Eventually they are led into the room with the screams, and made to line up against the near wall.   Morningstar sees that in the center of the room (bare, stone, windowless) is a Device.  It has a seat, and clamps, and a cruel man, and a pit of glowing coals, and metal rods.  Another boy is shoved into the chair of the Device, where his head is restrained by clamps.  The cruel man takes a metal rod out of the fire pit; the end is flat and wide and glowing red and white.  Tears roll down the trapped boy’s cheeks even before the rod is applied, and he wails in anticipation of the pain.  The brand is pressed to the boy’s cheek; his scream becomes louder and mixes with horrified cries from the other children.  There is the smell of scalded flesh.

The boy is released and ushered out of the room, still wailing.

The cruel man motions to Morningstar.  The boy is led to the chair.  She… he… doesn’t resist.  He doesn’t want to cry.  Her head is clamped tightly, and the glowing brand comes closer to him, closer to her, closer…

Searing pain.   The boy refuses to cry out.  Morningstar struggles to stay quiet.  The smell of his own burnt skin reeks in her nostrils.   The cruel man chuckles.*_

Morningstar yanks her hand away from the man on the floor to find tears dampening her face.  Dranko gives her a questioning look:  is she okay?  Is she willing to do another one?  She nods.   Trembling slightly she casts again, hoping that the memory of escape and freedom will have some measure of happiness after the fear and pain of the enslavement.  

The second memory is much worse.

…to be continued…


----------



## coyote6

_When_, man, when?


----------



## el-remmen

Sagiro,

After skipping over a large section I recently jumped back into reading this story hour and am so happy to see it is still going strong with the characters I remember well - and now you've pulled the ultimate rat bastard switcheroo.

I'm gonna start a campaign to get P.Kitty voted out of the Rat Basatard's Club so you can be voted in. . . 

Keep up the good work.


----------



## Number47

Excellent as always, evil as ever


----------



## wolff96

Your sense of Rat-Bastardy cliff-hanger style has only improved over time, Sagiro.

Letting the heroes get so involved in your campaign world and then yanking the rug out from under them is so evil and brilliant...


----------



## Ciaran

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Sorry Eric, but there's no joy on that front.  We did some Scrying and other divinations, and as far as we can tell, none of the Archmagi from our time exist here.  Their great-great grandparents never met, because they were too busy being enslaved, digging big holes, etc. *



What, not even Cranchus?  Jeepers.  You'd think that _someone_ in Charagan would be over a thousand years old...

Then again, you aren't limited to Charagan.  At the very least, Aravis can have another chat with the former masters of the Crossers' Maze, assuming that any of them might have information that the Defenders might find useful.  And assuming that the Maze itself hasn't been duplicated.

- Eric


----------



## energy_One

Ciaran said:
			
		

> *What, not even Cranchus?  Jeepers.  You'd think that someone in Charagan would be over a thousand years old...
> 
> Then again, you aren't limited to Charagan.  At the very least, Aravis can have another chat with the former masters of the Crossers' Maze, assuming that any of them might have information that the Defenders might find useful.  And assuming that the Maze itself hasn't been duplicated.
> 
> - Eric *




That just reminds me how confusing and difficult things have just become.

Whoops! Abernathy's Company is in trouble.

- energy_One


----------



## KidCthulhu

Ciaran said:
			
		

> *At the very least, Aravis can have another chat with the former masters of the Crossers' Maze, assuming that any of them might have information that the Defenders might find useful.  And assuming that the Maze itself hasn't been duplicated.
> 
> - Eric *




Unfortunately, ever since the battle at Verdshane, Aravis has been unable to access the Maze.  I don't think it's permanently off-line, he's just sprained his brain rather badly, and needs to rest a while.


----------



## energy_One

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Unfortunately, ever since the battle at Verdshane, Aravis has been unable to access the Maze.  I don't think it's permanently off-line, he's just sprained his brain rather badly, and needs to rest a while. *




What sort of difference is there now as opposed to before he "sprained le brain"? Is it simply a matter of him not feeling it, or can he not get together enough brain power and concentration to use it?


----------



## Ancalagon

Wow.

With sagiro and Piratecat trying to out-do each other in rat bastardness, things are going to get hard on the poor PCs!

Won't anyone think of the PCs!



Ancalagon


----------



## Sagiro

energy_One said:
			
		

> *
> 
> What sort of difference is there now as opposed to before he "sprained le brain"? Is it simply a matter of him not feeling it, or can he not get together enough brain power and concentration to use it? *



It's more the latter.  The Maze is still there, but Aravis can no longer make a connection with it.  Every time he tries it, his brain hurts.

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 178*_

* *

_*He was free, and now he will be killed.   Was it worth it?  Maybe.  Dying will be, must be, better than living.

He doesn’t struggle.  Two armed guards hold him in a vice-like grip.  Two more walk ahead and two behind, as they force him down the dark streets of Pyke Vale.   Ahead in the light of torches one of the monstrous furnaces comes into view.  His heart sinks.

Although he has never seen it, he has heard from some others that if a slave escapes and is caught, he is thrown into one of the furnaces to be burned alive.   Now he is learning those stories are true.  The guards march him right up to the door of the massive furnace, a hulking box of steel and heat.  The two guards in front lift a metal bar from the door and swing it open.  Heat pours out; the guards instinctively turn their faces.

Then the escaped slave is flung inside.  He hears the door clang shut behind him and the bar thrown down.

In his mind, in the seconds leading up to this, the slave envisioned that he’d simply erupt into flames, instantly burned to death by intense fires.   Although his death is still not in doubt, his confounding survival for the first five seconds causes his instincts to take over, looking for a way to stay alive.

The furnace is huge – almost twenty feet on a side – and has not recently been stoked.  Oh, it is hot – brutally hot – and here and there the coals are still red and pulsing.  Small fires burn all around him, and the air immediately provokes a drenching sweat.   His pant cuff catches fire and he swats it out, even as his head jerks this way and that, looking for a way to survive.   Miraculously, he finds one.  

In the far back corner of the furnace it is slightly less hot, though in scrambling there he badly burns his foot, and once slips and lands his forearm on a hot coal.  But in the corner he finds that by burying himself in old warm ashes he achieves some insulation from the heat.   Part of his mind urges him to give up.  What is the point?  He is trapped.  Tomorrow the furnace will be ten times hotter.  He cannot flee while the door is open; guards and workers will be swarming outside.  In the best possible scenario he can imagine, he will die of thirst in days.  Better to burn quickly now than die of slow roasting.

But in man there is nothing to rival the basic instinct to survive.  So he stays in his corner. 

The next day is a nightmare that Morningstar can hardly bear.  In the early morning the furnace is open; logs, kindling and torches are thrown inside.   By late morning it burns with the fires of hell.   Burrowing as far as he can beneath his pile of ash, the slave still feels as though the skin is melting off his bones.  The air in his lungs is mixed with ash and burns with every breath.  Hot embers find their way to bits of exposed skin.  One time a wet log explodes nearby and showers him with fiery fragments; his ashen blanket gives him some protection from the scalding air, but when burning wood touches down, it makes holes in his body.  He knows he will die.  He wishes he would die.  Morningstar’s reliving of his memories swims in and out along with the slave’s consciousness. 

In the evening they stop throwing logs in.  The door is shut for the final time, clanging in its frame.   Minutes pass.

In the back of Morningstar’s mind, the slave comes to a foggy-headed realization.  There had been no sound of the bar being lowered.  Slowly he turns his head on his ashen pillow.  The door was not securely closed!  He nearly jumps up to make a run for it.  Yes, there will probably still be guards outside, and they will catch him, but maybe they will simply cut off his head and make an end, instead of throwing him back inside…

No.  Survive.

He is terrified that someone outside will notice the open door.  But his best chance is to wait until the wee hours of the morning, when the furnace will be abandoned.   The hours creep by, the air in the furnace slowly cooling.  When he can bear it no longer the slave hops to the doorway, trying hard not to look at his own burned and blistered body.  He peeks through the half-inch gap between door and frame.  He sees no one, hears no one.

The exhilaration of freedom is just enough to mask the pain as he flees into the night.*_

Morningstar lifts her trembling hand from the slave’s arm.

“We should get him back the Greenhouse,” she whispers.  “He needs… help.  Food.  We can’t just leave him here.”

They _wind walk_ back to the Greenhouse to pick up some soft bread and cheese, then fly back with Aravis to the slave’s hovel.  They set the food down next to the sleeping man and withdraw to the other side of the room.

“Wake up,” says Ernie, in a normal tone of voice.  “We have food for you.”

Ernie has to repeat himself a few times, but eventually the man stirs, blinks, sits up slowly.  He sees Ernie, Dranko, Aravis and Morningstar, standing nearby and smiling.  They expect that he might startle or even attack, but he does neither.  Instead he slumps down, back still against the wall.  They can read his emotions easily enough; he knows he’s finally been caught, and now they’ll throw him back in the furnace.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” says Ernie.  “And we won’t tell anyone you’re here.  We brought you some food.”

He points at the bread and cheese.  “Eat.  That’s for you.”

The slave looks down at the food, puzzled.  Poison?  A trick?  Maybe he’s hallucinating.   Dranko senses what the man is thinking.  He walks forward slowly and the man shrinks back.  Dranko picks up the bread, tears off a small piece, and deliberately puts it in his mouth.

“See?” he says.  “It’s good.”

They’re pretty sure the slave understands them; people in Pyke Vale speak a thickly accented common tongue.  But he doesn’t touch the food.  His eyes are full of fear and doubt.

“What should we do now?” asks Aravis, speaking low.  “We can’t make him eat.  And now that he’s seen us, we can’t afford to let him go.”

“We’ll take him back to the Greenhouse,” says Ernie.  “We can heal him, give him a comfortable bed…”

“…and have to keep him there for the entire duration of our stay in this reality,” says Aravis.  “If he ever leaves, he could be caught, and made to tell the Emperor about the Greenhouse.”

“That’s better than him staying here,” says Dranko.  “Look at him.  Look at this place.  This isn’t life.”

“It’s better than what he had before,” Morningstar whispers.

“I’m going to cast _sleep_ on him," says Aravis. "Then we can get him back to the Greenhouse without him knowing how far it is.  We don’t have a choice at this point.”

Aravis casts his spell.  The slave’s eyes go wide as Aravis chants and waves his arms, and then he drops into a peaceful slumber.  Gently they carry him back to the Greenhouse and set him on the couch in the living room.  Before too long he wakes again, sitting up on the sofa and looking around in wonder.  Ernie has set some oatmeal and water in front of him, which he eyes suspiciously for only a second before greedily consuming.

“What is your name?” asks Ernie gently.

The slave opens his mouth but no words come out.  For a minute the Company thinks he might be dumb, or have had his tongue cut out.  But it’s simply the vocal rust borne of a long solitude.  After a moment of working his jaws, he whispers:  “Carp.”

* *

The education of Carp is slow and delicate.  He vacillates wildly between mistrust, confusion and gratitude.  The Company explains that they have come from a far-off land, that they are enemies of the Emperor, that they are safe in this strange house.  It is tricky convincing Carp that he may not leave the Greenhouse, but they manage it.  The promise of unlimited food and drink, combined with protection from the Warlord Pinfaro (who is the ruler of Pyke Vale) is enough to satisfy him.

“And I’m stuck here as well,” says Eddings, handing Carp another slice of buttered bread.  “But here we have books, and food, and cats to keep us company.”

In the days that follow, Carp provides some more information about his escape. 

Free from the furnace he fled through the streets of Pyke Vale, dodging guards and hiding in the shadows.  He made his way to this abandoned ghetto of boarded-up homes, eventually finding an unsealed window.  For two days he had gone into and out of delirium.  Had it not rained the first night, he would have died from thirst.  He was able to leave his shirt out in the downpour and wring filthy drops into his mouth.  Since then he has lived on stolen scraps; he knows of a guards' eating-house where leavings are tossed in a back alley.  Each night he scavenged for food.  Each day he hid, terrified.  It has been months.

When he is more at ease, Carp answers some of their questions about Pyke Vale.  There are no children on the streets because they are kept underground – fed and exercised, but not educated.  He guesses the children of important people are raised inside the palace grounds.  Warlord Pinfaro keeps such a large army because he fears another Warlord, somewhere to the north he thinks.    The Company finds this fascinating. 

“I bet the Emperor keeps his generals at each others’ throats,” says Ernie, “so they don’t come after him.”

Over breakfast one morning Aravis reiterates his impatience.  

“It’s time to go,” he says.  “We’ve learned everything we can about what Charagan has become.  We’ve helped the only person we could find to help.  Now it’s time to go set things to rights.”

“One more thing before we go,” says Morningstar.  “I have a few questions I’d like to ask of Ell.”

Offering up a bit of her life energy, Morningstar casts _commune_, seeking answers from her Goddess.  The connection that she typically feels is slow in coming after the spell is cast, but she asks her first question undaunted:

_Are we likely to succeed if we try to travel to Kivia via the Delfirian Arch?_

The answer does not come immediately.  Just enough time passes to make Morningstar start to doubt, when a divine voice sounds in her soul.  It is faint.

*NO.*

“My connection with the Goddess is weak,” she tells the others.  “I don’t know why.”

She asks a second question.

_Is the Gate at the Delfirian Peninsula in active use?_

Again a delay, before: 

*YES*

_Will we still end up in a jungle clearing if we use the Rope to return to Kivia?_

*YES*

_Does the rope have enough power to work a third time?_

*PROBABLY*

_Is an Eye of Moirel at Het Branoi?_

This time the delay is especially long.  Several minutes pass.  Then:

*I BELIEVE SO*

_Is Seven Dark Words a person?_

*HE WAS*

“I knew it!”  says Ernie.

_Is the house of Seven Dark Words in Djaw?_

*ONE OF THEM WAS*

_Are there Sisters of Ell in Kivia?_

*YES*

_Are there Sisters of Ell other than Morningstar in the place we know as Charagan?_

*NO*

_Are any of the people we know as the Archmagi alive?_

*NO*

_Is Het Branoi abandoned?_

Again there is a long delay.

*I DON’T BELIEVE SO*

With one question left, Morningstar asks a question on Ernie’s behalf.

_Are there any halflings in Kivia?_

*YES*

Morningstar’s connection with the divine drops immediately.  She finds herself winded.

“Looks like we use the rope then,” says Grey Wolf, reaching for his sword.  “I say there’s no time like right now.”

Not knowing if the Greenhouse would muddle the use of their magical Rope, the Company assembles on the roof.  Eddings is left behind with Carp.  

“We know we’ll show up in that jungle clearing,” says Morningstar, as Ernie lays out the long rope in a circle.  “But we should still be ready for trouble.”

It takes fifteen minutes for the magic of the Rope to take effect.  The Company stands within its circumference, fidgeting, eager to get on to the next part of their adventure, to start the process of setting the universe back on its proper course.  All at once the world around them changes, as they are _teleported_ en masse, thousands of miles to the east, to Kivia and the Jungle of Lost Dreams.

* *

It is night, and around them is a jungle clearing.  That much is expected.   Everything else is an unpleasant surprise.

They are not standing on grass.  Beneath their feet is a wide circular floor, 15 feet in diameter, made of gray stone slabs..  That circle is edged by a circumference of black obsidian bricks.  A nine-pointed star made of similar bricks circumscribes their circle, and at each point of the star is a squat, unsettling statue.  The air around them glows with a wan reddish light.

Outside the circle many torches on tall stands illuminate the night, and what they show the Company is a vast array of people surrounding them.   Sixteen of these have crossbows aimed at them.  Another eight have drawn scimitars.  Two wield rapiers in each hand.   In the back, outside of any direct torchlight, two immense bulky figures shift and grunt.  And none of these are what immediately grab the Company’s attention.

Only fifteen feet from their circle stands a tall, imperious man.  He wears a black robe with a red fringe, and a pendant with a black circle hangs around his neck.   Next to him is a short armored woman in similar robes.   

Aravis wastes no time; he has recently added the spell _mass haste_ to his books, and starts to cast.  But as his arms move in the patterns of spellcasting, the air in their enclosed cylinder begins to glow bright red and heat up rapdily.  Some unseen force makes Aravis' hands shake, and in less than three seconds the spell is disrupted.   Morningstar tries casting _prayer_ with the same results.  Seeing that spells are failing, Dranko adopts a wait-and-see attitude, keeping an eye on the foe outside the circle.  Kay draws her bow and fires an arrow straight at the tall man's chest; it flies eight feet before splintering against a force barrier at the edge of the obsidian circle.

The tall man chuckles.  

Grey Wolf also tries casting, but his effort is similarly thwarted.   Step, furious, charges forward, crashes into the force barrier, and falls back.  Kibi drinks a potion, and even _that_ fails to have any effect.  Magic seems to be completely nullified inside the trap.

In the torchlight the Black Circle leader holds up his hands.  The Company watches and listens, a captive audience.

“The Prophets of the Circle spoke,” the man's voice booms in heavily accented Kivian common, “and we listened. The Prophets did not lead us astray.”

He turns to the smaller woman standing beside him. 

“You see, my Lady? It is all as I expected. There was no need for this…” he gestures to the armed soldiers around him “…unseemly show of force.”

“I read things differently than you," grumbles the woman. "I’ll relax when they’re dead. Get on with it.”

The man clears his throat. 

“Here, at the exact time and place foretold, are the mortal enemies of our Lord. They come from a world much like this one, but one in which the Black Circle suffered bitter defeat. They have traveled across time and space in an attempt to change our world into one like their own. As you can see, they have failed, because _I_ read the Dark Books and was prepared. You will all be witness to their destruction, that _I_ have engineered.”

He strides forward toward them, stopping just short of the nine-pointed star. He speaks in a low voice meant only for them.

“But tell me one thing,” he murmurs. “How did you do it? If you share with me the secret of crossing the infinite boundaries of worlds, I will find a way to spare your lives."

No one responds.  

"And if you don't tell me," the man whipsers, "the remainder of your short lives will be extremely uncomfortable."

No one responds. 

The woman behind him hisses. “Stop playing with them. Get this done with. I’m sick of this accursed jungle.”

The tall man steps back with a sigh.

“I suggest you make peace with your Gods.” 

He turns and walks back to where he was originally standing, at the woman's side.  As he walks, Dranko takes out a spike from his pack, places it against the flagstones (glowing a slight red) at the very edge of the obsidian circle, and smashes down on it with his mace.

The spike entirely fails to penetrate the force effect that coats the stones like an impervious skin.  Dranko seethes with frustration.  The tall man turns to face the circle and begins to chant in an evil tongue. Inside the circle the air suddenly gets very, very warm.

Out of options, Dranko resorts to one of his oldest means of showing displeasure.  He unbuttons his trousers and pees toward the man. The stream of urine strikes an invisible barrier at the circle’s edge and splatters to the stones.  The woman standing by the chanting man wrinkles her face in disgust. 

The temperature in the circle continues to rise.  It seems that the Black Circle has finally caught them in a trap with no escape...

From somewhere in the jungle behind the Black Circle practitioners, there is a tremendously loud roar.

...to be continued...


----------



## RangerWickett

lol










lol













lol


----------



## Plane Sailing

Carp. Now that guy is *really* heroic.


And Ell... doncha just wish that the gods would be a bit more forthcoming with their answers sometimes? 

They seem exactly like DOS-level computing! If you ask exactly the right question, you get brilliant answers. If...


----------



## el-remmen

This looks like its gonna be a big ole nasty fight. . .

I'm so glad I started reading this again. . .


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Nothing to see here, no double posts, oh no, of course not, as if I would do such a thing...


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Would this be a handy time to ask what sort of level everyone is at? I'm not really sure where they stand, although obviously the group is fairly powerful.


----------



## Vymair

The party is 10th - 12th according to their character sheets on Sagiro's website...


----------



## emergent

Carp was brilliant and moving.  An incredible way to get across to the PC's how horrible this new timeline is and how much is at stake.  Very well done, Sagiro.


----------



## Sagiro

Piratecat called my attention to some errors in chronology, so I've made some edits to my previous post.   (That's what happens when you wait 11 weeks before writing up a session summary.)

You may want to re-read the section about the Company's arrival in the jungle.   I somewhat changed the nature of the cliffhanger at the end, too.

-Sagiro


----------



## RangerWickett

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Piratecat called my attention to some errors in chronology, so I've made some edits to my previous post.*




Errors in chronology in this campaign?  That's ironic.    Hey, Piratecat, you're a mod: why not just go back and rewrite Sagiro's storyhour so that the bad guys _don't_ change the past?


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Ow. That concept makes my brain hurt.


----------



## Nail

I can't wait to see how this Deus Ex Machina works out.  Somehow my own players never buy it.....things _must_ be different with Sagiro.....


----------



## Zaruthustran

Nail said:
			
		

> *I can't wait to see how this Deus Ex Machina works out.  Somehow my own players never buy it.....things must be different with Sagiro..... *




Deus Ex Machina? No, you don't understand. The players are rescuing themselves. Dranko just cast Summon Monster X. Of course, that's too high level for him, so he cast the Delayed version... from a potion.

-z


----------



## RangerWickett

It took me about a minute of thinking to figure out just what you meant by 'casting it with a potion.'  You, sir, have inspired the article I will write for next year's "Portable Hole Full of Beer."


----------



## Fade

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Deus Ex Machina? No, you don't understand. The players are rescuing themselves. Dranko just cast Summon Monster X. Of course, that's too high level for him, so he cast the Delayed version... from a potion.
> 
> -z *




No, Dranko cast it himself. That is to say after becoming high enough level to cast it, and using the Eyes to 'travel nowhere' and send the effect of the spell back in time.
.
.
.


----------



## Nail

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Deus Ex Machina? No, you don't understand. The players are rescuing themselves. Dranko just cast Summon Monster X. Of course, that's too high level for him, so he cast the Delayed version... from a potion. *



LOL!   See, that's why I read this story hour: just to see how this sort of thing can be pulled off convincingly....or should I say "pulled out"?


----------



## Sagiro

Nail said:
			
		

> *I can't wait to see how this Deus Ex Machina works out.  Somehow my own players never buy it.....things must be different with Sagiro..... *



Don't get too excited about this.  What follows really _is_ a Deus Ex Machina on my part; I never expected the party would escape this trap on their own.  As my players correctly noted afterward, this was a short "cut-scene" designed to give them a couple moments of panic, and to show the scary divinatory powers of the Black Circle. 

I guess it also taught the moral lesson of "don't piss off the locals," as you'll see when I write the next post.  (Not sure when that will be, by the way; I want to collect some recollections from my players before I write it...)

-Sagiro


----------



## Zaruthustran

Hi Sagiro. I just sent you an email to your "velendo" address. Please be on the lookout for it; be aware that some pesky mail clients flag *all* mail from "@amazon.com" as spam.  

-z


----------



## RangerWickett

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *I guess it also taught the moral lesson of "don't piss off the locals"*




Or in Dranko's case, piss _at_ the locals.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

Sagiro said:
			
		

> * (Not sure when that will be, by the way; I want to collect some recollections from my players before I write it...)
> 
> -Sagiro *



  Not sure as in maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after, or maybe next week, maybe the week after?


----------



## energy_One

Lord Pendragon said:
			
		

> *  Not sure as in maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after, or maybe next week, maybe the week after? *




Yes. After all, Sagiro has to please his devoted fans. His devoted, inspiring fans. His devoted, inspiring fans with pitchforks.

(Sagiro rocks... socks... er.... um... or something else... more... rockable.)


----------



## Tiefling

Your lack of updates is sending Karate Jesus into paroxysms of rage.


----------



## Tiefling

Double post.


----------



## LightPhoenix

Tiefling said:
			
		

> *Your lack of updates is sending Karate Jesus into paroxysms of rage. *




Tae Kwon Do Jesus!!!


----------



## Sagiro

Hey everyone,  

Sorry for the long delay.  I've actually been writing lots of run summaries recently, but they've  been about the most recent three runs.  The Story Hour posted here is now six runs behind where we are in real life.  To put it another way:  the last Story Hour detailed run #143.   I've finished the write-ups for runs #147, #148 and #149, but I won't be posting them for a while yet, since I still have to write up runs #145 and #146.

But enough teasing and excuses.  I just finished writing up the run #144 -- the rumble in the jungle.  Here it is!

-Sagiro


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 179*_

There comes the sound of a large object crashing through tree branches, and a large boulder lands in the midst of the assembled forces with a loud thud.  This elicits some chaos in the ranks.  While the man continues to chant, his female counterpart gives him a venomous “I told you so” glare before shouting new orders.  She runs back toward the far edge of the clearing, and the Company hears the sounds of even more soldiers than they can see in the torchlight.   The woman leads a dozen or so others into the jungle, toward the sound of the roar.

A second boulder soars over the heads of the Company in the trap; crossbowmen scatter away before regrouping.    The Black Circle caster keeps up his chanting, though his eyes are darting nervously.  The heat has continued to rise inside the trap; sweat is dripping down the party’s faces.   Ernie thinks that in a few more seconds he will start baking alive in his plate mail.

A third boulder crashes through the trees and comes whistling toward them.  It strikes one of the squatting black statues that surround the circle trap, smashing it into fragments.  Inside the trap a harmless red light flashes and fades; the air quickly cools.  A suppressed _telepathic bond_ between several party members springs back to life.  Step, his sword drawn, pokes it forward through the circle’s edge.  No force wall stops it.

“We’re in business,” he says.  

The battle that follows is fantastically chaotic, even by the established standards of such things.   Morningstar opens up with a _flame strike_ on the head of the Black Circle leader, which leaves him smoking but not as damaged as she’d hoped.   Grey Wolf and Dranko activate _improved invisibility_ from magic items.  Kay fires off arrows at the leader, after which Step and Grey Wolf charge forward at him.  The shocked Black Circle leader, now bleeding from several wounds, takes a step back, casts a spell, and flies straight up.  Aravis chugs a _potion of flying_ and gives chase.

A hail of arrows pelts the Company, most pinging off armor but many finding their marks.  Ernie casts _castigate_ and gives the nearest cluster of bowmen a magical tongue-lashing.  

“Look at what you’re doing!  Serving an icky evil God, firing arrows at good people!  You should be ashamed of yourselves!”

The archers cringe in pain, most of them deafened.  All of them look sheepish.

Snokas moves out to engage the mass of enemy soldiery.  He finds himself in melee with one of the fellows dual-wielding rapiers.  Before Snokas knows what’s happening, he’s bleeding from three deep cuts.  His own weapons didn’t strike once.  His foe smiles knowingly.

Dranko charges invisibly out into the ranks, hoping to take out one of the large demon-ish looking creatures in the back.   He snaps his whip and the creature bellows with rage.  It shifts its bulky form around to face in Dranko’s direction.  It cannot see the half-orc, but it cocks its head carefully.  Is it listening for him? Smelling?  Using some other beastly sense?  Somehow it pinpoints him, but instead of attacking with its enormous lobster-like claws, it folds its arms and glares in Dranko’s direction.   Dranko feels a cold shudder go through his body, and a bit of his life force drains away.  

The roaring of some huge beast continues out in the jungle.  It’s clearly speech of some kind, though not in a language anyone in the Company knows.  Whatever it is, it sounds angry.

The Black Circle leader blasts the flying Aravis with an _empowered acid bolt_, before flying off into the darkness.  Aravis considers giving chase, but instead directs a _sonic chain lightning_ down into the melee.  Many enemy combatants are blasted. 

The chaos increases, and the battle slowly turns against the Company.  On the one hand, the good guys do pretty well against the enemy rank and file.  Step, Flicker and Kay are more than a match for the soldiers armed with scimitars, Grey Wolf takes flight and pelts the archers with _fireballs_ and _lightning bolts_.  Kibi casts a _confusion_ which has a number of the bad guys attacking each other or wandering around aimlessly.  Then he follows it up with a _fireball_ targeting another group of enemies.  Aravis flies down beneath the trees at the edge of the clearing and casts a _fireball_ of his own into the melee.  Dranko manages to evade the friendly fire while his monstrous adversary does not, and he finishes off his foe with his whip.  Morningstar has deterred attackers with a _chill shield_ that’s dealt out some serious damage on its own. 

But the fighters with the rapiers are exceedingly skillful, with an uncanny ability to inflict critical wounds.  A handful of surviving archers continues to whittle away at the Company.  Morningstar and Ernie are kept busy applying healing, but the injuries to their friends are piling up faster than they can deal with. 

It gets worse.  Out from the jungle steps an enormous giant, eighteen feet tall, wielding a frighteningly large morningstar.  It’s shouting with rage.  Kibi activates his Ioun Stone of _tongues_ to hear what it’s saying.    

“…teach you to invade _my_ jungle, setting fires and chopping wood from living trees!  I’ll smear you all into paste!  I’ll pulverize you!  I’ll crush you to powder!  I’ll…”

Kibi gets the idea.  And Step gets the giant’s morningstar, right in the chest.  Whoooof!  He goes reeling backward.

“Hey Mr. Giant!” calls Kibi.  “We don’t want to hurt you or your jungle!  We’re not with those other people!”

“Liar!” shouts the giant.  “Didn’t I just watch you throw magical fire around? You little people are all in league… and you’ll all get what you deserve... a pounding!”

Oh well.

Then it gets even worse!  Aravis, crouching behind a tree at the edge of the clearing, and just having healed some of his wounds with a potion, is struck in the back by a _searing light_ from inside the jungle.  He wheels around and thinks he catches a glimpse of someone ducking behind a tree some fifty feet away.  He can’t see very well; the only light is the ambient glow from the torches still burning out in the clearing.

Kay, Grey Wolf and Step rush over to Aravis to administer aid.  Aravis chugs another healing potion, clinging to life.

There’s a rushed consensus over the _telepathic bond_.  Things were grim enough before the giant showed up and (presumably) the female Black Circle cleric came back.  Now it’s time to flee!

Ernie shouts “come to the center!” in Charagan common before casting _obscuring mist_.   Most of the Company (and a few enemies) are enveloped in thick magical fog.  Morningstar’s intent is to cast a pair of _wind walk_ spells to allow a speedy evacuation, covered by the mist.  But the four over by Aravis are unable to join the others; from the jungle comes a _command_ in Kivian Common:  “Sleep!”

Aravis and Step drop into a deep slumber.

“Hide from me, will you?” bellows the giant.  The Company huddled in the mist hears the sound of the giant’s weapon slamming into the ground about fifteen feet away, accompanied by the dying scream of an enemy soldier.

“We’ve got to carry them out of here,” says Grey Wolf.  “Kay, you get Aravis, and I’ll carry Step.  Edghar, Ernie’s got the right idea.  Covering fog, please.”

Grey Wolf’s monkey familiar grabs the _horn of fog_ from his master's belt, carried for just such an emergency as this.  He blows on it, sounding a low fog-horn-like note and filling the air with mist.

“Meet back at the hut,” thinks Morningstar over the _telepathic bond_.  She casts her _wind walks_, and the majority of the party leaves the scene at top speed.   As the other group gets set to fly away, the black circle leader reveals himself nearby by casting a last _empowered acid bolt_ in their direction, into the expanding fog cloud.  It just misses Kay and Aravis but sears the flesh of Step and Grey Wolf.

“God damn it!” cries Grey Wolf.  “We’re leaving already!”  They fly up, out of the fog and through the treetops, into the night sky.   Below them they see the towering jungle giant lifting its morningstar  from the flattened corpse of the second demonic-looking monster.  It turns on the mage who had just cast the acid bolt and lets out a furious shriek.  

And that’s the last they see of their Black Circle foes.  The Company has escaped the trap.  But as they fly away, they hear the sound of the Black Circle mage shouting after them, panic in his voice:

"You don't understand!  You must not be allowed to live!  The universe cannot abide your presence!"

…to be continued…


----------



## KidCthulhu

Yeah, yeah.  Universe cannot abide our presence.  Stupid universe.  Doesn't send a warning letter, no "you're going to be cut off if you don't become more biddable" warning.  Just right out of the gate with the not abiding.  

Sometimes it doesn't pay to strap on the plate mail in the morning.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Fantastic stuff! Sounds like one big complicated battle. Do you guys use battlemats for this sort of thing?


----------



## thatdarncat

Let's get this out of the way first...

YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Now then:



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> * Ernie casts castigate and gives the nearest cluster of bowmen a magical tongue-lashing.
> 
> “Look at what you’re doing!  Serving an icky evil God, firing arrows at good people!  You should be ashamed of yourselves!”
> 
> The archers cringe in pain, most of them deafened.  All of them look sheepish.
> *




Where would I find this wonderful spell? It doesn't appear to be in the PHB


----------



## coyote6

thatdarncat said:
			
		

> *Where would I find this wonderful spell? It doesn't appear to be in the PHB  *




_Castigate_ is, IIRC, in Defenders of the Faith and Oriental Adventures; I don't recall if the two versions are the same or not.


----------



## el-remmen

I love the very idea of _castigating_ someone and deafening them and causing them damage - as the very weight of your words hammered on them. .  It is a wonderful image - which for me always makes for a great spell. . . 

I've said it before and I'll say it again - this story hour is my favorite superhero storyhour!  It is just a different world but they are the Avengers of that world . . . 

Check out the mad comic book action!



> And Step gets the giant’s morningstar, right in the chest. Whoooof! He goes reeling backward.




and



> Aravis, crouching behind a tree at the edge of the clearing, and just having healed some of his wounds with a potion, is struck in the back by a searing light from inside the jungle. He wheels around and thinks he catches a glimpse of someone ducking behind a tree some fifty feet away. He can’t see very well; the only light is the ambient glow from the torches still burning out in the clearing.




Your game sounds just so god-damned fun!


----------



## rigur

Great as always and a little Cassius Clay reference is never wrong. Keep up the good work.


----------



## KidCthulhu

_Castigate_ is indeed in DotF.  When I read it, I knew I just had to have it for Ernie.  Stern little lectures that actually do something!

This is the first time he's cast it.  It's also a first for _Obscuring Mist_ which I'd been carrying for years and never used.  Really proved its usefulness that day though.


----------



## dpdx

rigur said:
			
		

> *Great as always and a little Cassius Clay reference is never wrong. Keep up the good work. *



Cassius Clay reference? What'd I miss?


----------



## Gideon

Rumble in the Jungle was the post subject, me thinks


----------



## Zaruthustran

*Optimism*



> as they fly away, they hear the sound of the Black Circle mage shouting after them, panic in his voice:
> "You don't understand! You must not be allowed to live! The universe cannot abide your presence!"




So, what did this mage expect?

Dranko: "He's right! Quick, everyone--back to the circle so we can be killed!"  

Evil henchmen are silly.

-z


----------



## Fade

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *Castigate is indeed in DotF.  When I read it, I knew I just had to have it for Ernie.  Stern little lectures that actually do something!*




Ernie seems to have a lot in common with the character of Piffany (Nodwick).


----------



## KidCthulhu

Fade said:
			
		

> *Ernie seems to have a lot in common with the character of Piffany (Nodwick). *




I think Ernie and Piffany actually developed as a parallel evolution.  I started playing Ernie about 7 years ago, just about the time Nodwick was starting.  So neither is influenced by the other, but they are very similar.  Ernie's language is a little saltier, thanks to many years proximity to Dranko.  He'll actually use an occasional bad word.  But he feels guilty afterwards.


----------



## Nail

That Nodwick is great stuff.  Thanks, KC!  You've lead me astray in Sluggy and Nodwick!  2 for 2!


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 180*_

Even beneath a waxing gibbous moon, one patch of jungle looks very much like another from the air.   The flying members of the Company recall the general direction and distance to the mysterious hut, but an hour of criss-crossing the area reveals nothing but a continuous thick canopy of trees.  Tired and wounded, and deciding that the hut housing the gateway to Zhamir must not exist in this reality, the party settles into a small sort-of-clearing with enough space for a _secure shelter_.   They pile inside and set about healing their many wounds.   Morningstar casts _restoration_ to cure Dranko’s _enervated_ state.  

“That was frikkin’ embarrassing!” cries the half-orc.  “We fled for our lives!”

“Which we still have,” points out Flicker.

“I say tomorrow we hunt that Gods-damned Black Circle mage,” Dranko grumbles.  “Hey, can we _scry_ him now?”

“My _secure shelters_ have few amenities, and a large expensive mirror isn’t one of them,” points out Aravis.

Grey Wolf sends Edghar out into the jungle to scout around.

“Let us know if you spot anyone approaching,” instructs Grey Wolf.  “Especially our recent attackers.  Or jungle giants.”

The monkey scampers off, happy to be back in its native habitat.

While Ernie prepares a meal, Morningstar sits silently on her bunk, cogitating.

“I’ve an idea,” she says suddenly, looking up at the group.  “An Ellish spell I’ve never  uttered, but which could prove useful right now.  Not to mention satisfying.”

The rest of the party looks at her expectantly.

“Nightmare,” she says.  “I can give that Black Circle guy a nightmare so bad, he won’t be able to learn new spells tomorrow.”

It’s a popular plan.  After spending the fifteen minutes to prepare it, Morningstar drops into a trance.  Her mind reaches out to locate her prey, but she finds him still awake.  She can wait.  He’ll go to sleep eventually, and when he does…

The others watch over Morningstar’s body and munch Ernie’s waybread while Step stands guard at the door.   An hour goes by.

“I hope he goes to sleep soon, wherever he is,” whispers Flicker.  “Morningstar’s going to be really hungry.”

The air in the center of the shelter starts to shimmer and warp, as if seen through a curtain of intense heat.  A low throbbing hum emanates from it.

“That’s some spell,” remarks Kay.

“Morningstar didn’t say anything about the air going wonky,” points out Dranko.  “I hope this is normal.”

The strange effect continues for a few moments.  Then Morningstar’s eyes pop open, and she utters some strange syllables while making clawing gestures in front of her.

“It’s done,” she says with satisfaction.  “I don’t know if it worked, but if it did, he’s going to be awfully unhappy in the morning.”

She looks up, startled.

“What’s that?” she asks, pointing at the twisting air.

“You don’t know?” asks Kibi.

“Everyone out!” cries Grey Wolf.  And to Edghar:  “Get back here right away!”

The Company scrambles out of the _secure shelter_, weapons drawn, scanning the dark jungle for attackers.  

Nothing happens.  They can hear the humming continue from inside the shelter for another fifteen minutes before it stops abruptly.  Dranko peeks inside and sees that the shimmering effect has also stopped.

“What do you think that was?” he asks, looking at Aravis.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Aravis admits.  Kibi and Grey Wolf also shake their heads.

“Maybe some kind of scrying?” guesses Kibi.  “They could have detected your _nightmare_, Morningstar.”

“I don’t know how,” says the priestess of Ell.  “Until the target goes to sleep, they shouldn’t detect anything.  And afterward… well, they’re asleep.”

“Not much we can do about it,” grumbles Grey Wolf.  “Edghar?  You spot anything?”

“Nothing interesting,” says the monkey.  

They sleep uneasily.

* *

Early the next day a team of _wind walkers_ – Flicker, Dranko, Kay and Grey Wolf – return to the scene of the previous night’s crime.   There are many signs of the battle – carrion birds feasting on corpses; scorch marks left by energies variously acidic, electrical and fiery; and huge indentations in the grass left by the jungle giant’s morningstar.  The stone trap circle is still there, but the undamaged statues have been removed.  After grabbing the obligatory souvenir (a fragment of the smashed statue) Dranko flies into the air and spirals outward from the clearing, looking for smoke from a cook-fire or birds startled out of the trees by intruding humans.   While Dranko scouts the air, Kay scouts the ground for tracks.   After a thorough examination of all tracks leaving the clearing she concludes that all the surviving Black Circle types probably escaped through the air.  Dranko’s search doesn’t turn up anything, and the scouting group returns to the others without any leads.

The Company sits outside in the jungle discussing their travel options.   Next on the agenda is a thousand-mile journey to the north-east, where their old map-scrap indicates a region called “Surgoil.”  It is there that they expect to find Het Branoi and a third Eye of Moirel, with which they can “travel nowhere” and thus unmake the world.  How they intend to find an invisible tower in a barren expands hundreds of miles – that’s a problem for another day.  For now talk turns to the merits of _wind walk_ and _phantom steeds_, and how the Company can most quickly make the trip.  

Abruptly the air in their midst starts to ripple again, while a low humming sounds from the disturbance.   As before the party leaps to its collective feet, grabbing weapons and looking for an assailant.   No threats are evident.  Ernie, though, feels a warmth growing by his hip.  The Wilburforce Circlet hanging on his belt is glowing slightly and emanating heat!

Without knowing exactly why, he snaps it on around his waist.  

“Kibi!” says Scree in alarm.   “Something’s… uh… I seem to moving.  Oop… here I go!”

The earth elemental familiar rolls along the ground to assemble at Ernie’s feet.

“Scree?” asks Kibi over their shared mindlink.  “What’s happening?”

“I think it’s the Eyes of Moirel,” says Scree.  “They’re interested in Ernie’s belt.  They want a closer look.”

“Why?”

“They’re not very communicative,” says Scree gloomily.  

For two full minutes Scree (and presumably the Eyes within his body) stands before Ernie, watching him.  Ernie finds this extremely disquieting but he doesn’t dare move.  Nearby the air continues to warble and thrum.   Then the disturbance ends and Scree regains control of his body.

“Are you alright?” asks Kibi.

“Fine,” says Scree.  “It’s weird, being walked around like that, but the Eyes don’t seem to be causing me any harm.”

“They’d better not,” says Kibi.

“Does Scree know what’s going on?” asks Ernie.

“Sorry.  They Eyes just use him to move around.  They don’t confide in him.”

“I guess my belt – my _talisman of stability_ – is connected with that weird shimmering,” says Ernie.  “I wish I knew how.”

* *

There’s just one problem with _wind walking_ everyone and flying straight to Branoi at sixty miles per hour; there’s one person too many.  Morningstar can only turn nine of the ten of them windy each day.  The solution to that problem is proposed by Aravis; he’ll _polymorph_ himself into a large fast-flying dragon.  Pewter can cling to his back during flight.  It will slow the group down, since even a dragon can’t fly as fast as a wind-walker, but it’s the best plan that doesn’t involve splitting up the party for long periods of time.

Soon the Company is soaring over the jungle at 35 MPH.  It takes a few minutes for Pewter to overcome his terror at riding so high on dragon-back, but he can dig his claws into Aravis’ scaly back as deeply as he needs to.   The wind-walkers match speeds with the dragon.   Below them the jungle speeds by. 

Less than four hours later the jungle comes to an end, giving way to a bucolic country side stretching northward to the foot of the mountains.   They see small huts, some isolated farmhouses and others clustered in little villages, spread out across the rolling grasslands.  While Aravis stays high to avoid causing a panic, the wind-walkers fly lower to investigate.  What they see looks at first like the Yuja, the peaceful race of gnomes they encountered immediately following their adventures in the ogre-infested mountains.   The creatures that live in the straw huts look very similar to the Yuja.  But these all carry spears, and their faces are covered in colorful war-paint.   It seems as though there are several tribes of these gnomes, each with its own territory and colors.  

Up ahead there seems to a commotion out in a field.  A battle?  Ernie cringes at the thought that the kindly Yuja from his own reality have ended up a violent race at war with itself in this one.  To his relief, what the wind-walkers see is a hunting party that has surrounded a huge beast.  Their prey is something like a cross between a lion and a mammoth.  A dozen spears already protrude from its flanks.  Twenty gnomes surround it, each with a quiver of hunting spears on his back.   Three particularly fast and nimble of the gnomes are dressed in bright colors; their job seems to be to distract the beast from the spear-hurlers while the hunters bring it down.

The Company’s curiosity about the gnomish people is not greater than their desire to make the best possible speed toward Branoi.  After over a half-day of flying Aravis is exhausted, but they continue on for another hour by which time the last straw hut is far behind them.  Aravis spots a clear field and soars down to land.

The only problem being, he has no idea _how_ to land.   The only time he has ever seen a dragon go from air to ground was when the one he was fighting was killed in mid-air.  Pewter notices something’s amiss as Aravis is still some two hundred feet in the air.

“Er… boss?  We’re coming in awfully fast, don’t you think.  Should we… boss?  BOSS??  Watch out!  Pull up!  Straighten out!  Aaaaaah!”

Pewter bails at the last minute, leaping off Aravis’s back and rolling through the tall grass in a ball of gray fur.  Seconds later Aravis crashes into the ground, skidding across the field and leaving a furrow of torn earth and a few dislodged scales.  He ends up on his back, sheepishly looking up at the descending wind-walkers.  He hopes that dragons don’t bruise easily.  


* *

“I think I know what I did wrong,” Aravis says,  chewing on one of Ernie’s travel cakes.  “My next landing should be smoother.”  

He has changed back to human form and is sitting up against the outside of his latest _secure shelter_.  The wizard is exhausted.

“I doubt I’ll be able to fly that long for many more days,” he adds.  “I need more rest breaks.”

“And more practice,” says Flicker, smirking.  Aravis shoots him a dirty look.

“It will slow us down even more,” points out Morningstar.

“I can turn into a dragon too,” says Kibi.  “Half way through the day he can turn back into a human and ride on my back the rest of the way.”

“Kibi!  No!” Scree is horrified.

“I know, “says Kibi sympathetically, “but it would be for the good of the group.  You’ll be in your _familiar pocket_ as usual.  You’ll never even know.”

“I suppose,” says Scree gloomily.  

“Look out!” shouts Step.

The air in the midst of the party is shimmering again.   Ernie feels the golden belt grown warm again; he puts it on.

“It has to be someone scrying on us,” says Grey Wolf.  “It keeps happening right where we are.”

“Not necessarily,” says Ernie.  “It could be happening all over the place, but we’re only seeing the one nearby.”

Kibi casts _detect magic,_ and not surprisingly the effect is magical, but he cannot discern the type.

A black sphere the size of a fist appears in the center of the coruscating air.  A few seconds later there is short hissing sound and the black ball goes shooting off into the air, upward and somewhat eastward.   It vanishes into the falling dusk.

“What do you suppose that was?” asks Morningstar.

No one has an answer.

“Not again!” cries Scree.  His body moves without his own will, rolling over to stand before Ernie.

“Kibi?  This is really creeping me out,” says the halfling.

“That makes two of us,” says Scree.  And then, in a somewhat different voice, the earth elemental says to Kibi:  *Don’t take it off.  We’re working on the problem.*

Kibi looks shaken.  

“Ernie, Scree says to keep the belt on.   I think it’s the Eyes of Moirel talking, but they’re using Scree’s voice.  They say they’re ‘working on the problem.’”

“What problem?” asks Ernie, his voice shrill.

“Scree, can they explain any more?”

“I don’t know how to ask them.”

The Eyes have nothing more to say at the moment, and some thirty seconds later the air stops moving.

“I hope it’s not a _serious_ problem,” mutters Grey Wolf.

* *

In the middle of the night, Aravis wakes from his bunk inside the shelter.   

“It’s happening again, boss,” says Pewter.

Aravis sits up and sees that the air is pulsing in the middle of the hut.   The other members of the Company are still sleeping soundly around him.  Not wanting to wake them over something that’s so far proved a harmless curiosity, he watches intently for a few minutes.  Before long a dark spot appears as it did the previous day.  

With a loud hissing sound, louder than the first time, the black ball separates into a dozen or more copies itself, all of which go shooting off in random directions.   Grey Wolf is awoken by the horrible pain attendant to a chunk of his shoulder being sheared away by the touch of one of these spheres.  Others continue straight through the walls and ceiling of the shelter, leaving clean holes behind.  Grey Wolf screams in pain, and that wakes everyone else up in a hurry.

“Get out!  Out!”  shouts Aravis.  The shelter is evacuated in short order.   The Eyes of Moirel walk Scree over to stand before Ernie again.   Morningstar heals Grey Wolf’s mutilated shoulder.

Ernie feels the belt grow extremely warm around his waist.   In the voice that isn’t really his, Scree speaks to Kibi:

*”We have the situation under control.  Your presence is not compatible with reality and the fabric of space-time was beginning to unravel in your vicinity.  Things should now be more stable.  Tell Ernest that he should not remove the belt if possible, and only for very short periods of time if necessary.  The rest of you should stay close to the belt – no more than 200 to 300 feet distance.”*

Kibi relays the Eyes’ warning to the rest of the Company. 

“If things are under control, I’m going back to bed,” says Flicker.  The party goes back into hut and discovers it riddled with holes.

“It’s _Leomund’s Strainer,_” says Ernie, giggling.

“It’s only a few holes,” says Aravis.

“Then how about _Leomund’s Mostly Secure Shelter?_ suggests Grey Wolf.

“Or _Leomund’s Holey Shelter_” adds Morningstar.

“Enough with the shelter jokes!” cries Aravis.  “If you want, you can sleep outside!”


* *

The next day’s flight northward is largely uneventful.   The mountains loom closer and closer as the sun rises to its noonday height.  The air is cold and fresh.   

“Hey boss,” says Pewter, clinging to the dragon’s shoulder.  “Can you see something glinting down in the mountains ahead?”

“Yeah,” says Aravis.  “What do you think it is?”

“Might be a building?”

Soon the rest of the Company can see what Pewter has spied.  It’s not just a building.   As they rise higher, higher even than the peaks of the Stoneguard Mountains, the party sees that the mountains are covered with stone edifices. Towers, walls, houses, fortresses and palaces cover the mountain ridges as far as the eye can see.  Small creatures move around among them, tiny dots from the Company’s viewpoint.  But Kibi doesn’t need to see them to know what they are.  The bold stone architecture can only have been built by dwarves.

Kibi’s heart at once both sinks and is uplifted.  In their own universe, the dwarves here were driven out by ogres and enslaved by men.  Here, the Empire of Great Gurund flourishes at its very height.

And if Kibi and his friends are successful in their quest, it will be as if it never was.

…to be continued…


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Kibi’s heart at once both sinks and is uplifted.  In their own universe, the dwarves here were driven out by ogres and enslaved by men.  Here, the Empire of Great Gurund flourishes at its very height.
> 
> And if Kibi and his friends are successful in their quest, it will be as if it never was.*




And isn't that just the kicker.  As if we needed another reminder of how knee-deep in suck we are.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 180
> 
> Kibi’s heart at once both sinks and is uplifted.  In their own universe, the dwarves here were driven out by ogres and enslaved by men.  Here, the Empire of Great Gurund flourishes at its very height.
> 
> And if Kibi and his friends are successful in their quest, it will be as if it never was.
> 
> …to be continued… *



This is really great.  It shows a lot of thought on Sagiro's part (as if that weren't already apparent) and adds to the moral complexity of what the Company is doing.  To many, they're saving the world.  But to others, they'll be destroying it.


----------



## Fade

So now you can add 'the fabric of space-time' to the list of 'things that are trying to kill us'.


----------



## el-remmen

> Kibi’s heart at once both sinks and is uplifted. In their own universe, the dwarves here were driven out by ogres and enslaved by men. Here, the Empire of Great Gurund flourishes at its very height.
> 
> And if Kibi and his friends are successful in their quest, it will be as if it never was.




And the master Rat Bastard strikes again. . .

{insert comment about having Sagiro's man-babies here}


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 181*_

Kibi, of course, wants to descend for a closer look.  The wind-walkers get together for a conference while Aravis spirals high above.

“I don’t see what we get out of stopping,” says Morningstar.

“A break?” suggests Flicker.  “A meal with the good guys for a change?”

“We don’t know they’re the good guys in this reality,” points out Grey Wolf.

“It’s a moot point,” says Dranko.  “Unless you want to have Aravis just plop down on one of those battlements.  Remember, the Eyes said we shouldn’t separate by more than a few hundred feet.  Those dwarves would probably start shooting at a dragon.”

There’s a bit more debate, but the group decision is to avoid the dwarven empire if possible.   The Company settles into a rocky valley, hidden from sight from the dwarvish habitations.   A quick search reveals some small holes in the ground, and tracks made by (Kay thinks) lizards the size of dogs.  Late at night, while most of the party sleeps, Kay hears a strange sound out in the darkness.  It sounds like…electricity?  It’s followed by the sound of a mountain cat scampering away up a rocky slope.

When she investigates in the morning, her conclusion is that a few lizards must have scared off a large lynx-like animal.  

“Lightning lizards, I think,” says Kay.  “We’re near to where we encountered them in our own reality.”

She unconsciously rubs her sternum, where a bevy of such lizards had blasted her.

“We don’t bother them, they don’t bother us,” says Aravis.  

“You’re about to turn into a dragon,” says Pewter.  “You could just eat them.”

* *

By mid-day the Company has left the mountains behind and is flying north-east over the green flood plains east of Kivia’s Eternal River.  The air is cool – probably thirty degrees cooler than in the hot climate of the jungle a thousand miles south.  Aravis has just about reached his point of exhaustion, so wanting to make good speed they land for Kibi to take his first turn as dragon.  

“Scree, I’ll be sure to…” says Kibi.

“I don’t want to know about it,” interrupts Scree. “Just let me know when you’re back on land, in proper dwarvish form.”

Aravis climbs onto Kibi’s back and the others help rig a light rope harness to give the him something to hold on to.   A few hours later, having passed over miles of unihabited wilderness,  Kibi glides down for a landing.  He’s gotten some instruction from Aravis and is full of confidence.

“Boss?”

“Yes Pewter?”

“I don’t mean to sound alarmist, but he’s making the same mistake that you did the first time.  We’re coming in too fast.”

“Nonsense,” says Aravis.  “Kibi is an intelligent wizard.  We’ll be fine.”

“We should be ready to bail,” says Pewter.

“I have complete faith in my fellow mage,” Aravis sniffs.

“Suit yourself,” says Pewter.  “I have complete faith that I’m going to land on my feet when I… ABANDON DRAGON!”

Pewter leaps off and tumbles through the grass.  Aravis has just enough time to tighten his grip on the ropes when Kibi crash-lands, rolling over several times before coming to a skidding halt.  Fortunately for Aravis, he looses his hold and is thrown free of the out-of-control dragon before getting squashed.   Pewter runs over to make sure his master is ok.

“Yes, Pewter, I’m fine.  Ow.  Mostly.”

“Boss, I told…”

“Yes, you did.”

“Next time…”

“Yes, I will.”

* *

It is two days later, and below the Company the desolation of north-eastern Kivia rushes by.   It’s cold enough that the Company is flying lower than they have been; Kibi (taking his turn as the dragon) flies a couple hundred feet higher than the rest to avoid alerting anything on the ground..  It’s been hundreds of miles since the last sign of intelligent life, and those were some ancient ruins discovered the previous day.   But now, up ahead, there is something interesting: a farmhouse on the tundra. 

As they draw near to it, they see that it’s huge.   Not huge in a multiple-barns or a dozen-rooms kind of way, but huge in a scaled-up, giants-live-here kind of way.  The stone wall pen adjacent to the house holds a half-dozen giant-sized cows.

Over the next couple of hours the Company realizes that the entire region is populated with giants.  There are more isolated farmhouses, but most of the giants live in small walled villages.  Well, ok, they’re enormous walled villages, but from a giant’s point of view they must be quite modest.  The giants themselves are about 15 feet tall and dressed in warm furs.  Most of them carry enormous clubs.

There’s a strange pattern to the settlements.  There will be a few giantish villages connected by crude footpaths, and then several miles of uninhabited wilderness.   Beyond that, more connected settlements.  The uninhabited parts don’t seem any different from the populated areas – flat, dusted with snow, with occasional patches of scrubby growth.   Clusters of un-owned cows roam the fields looking for bits of grass to eat.  

In one of these unsettled areas the wind-walkers note a gruesome sight – several bloody cow carcasses lying at the foot of a small low hill.  

“I want to check that out,” says Kay.  “It might give us a clue about why this area doesn’t have any giants in it.”

The group lands a few dozen feet away from the dead cows.  Kay and Dranko go solid.  Kibi lands (gracefully, even!) and Aravis dismounts.  Kay cautiously approaches the carcasses. 

The nearest one quivers.  Kay stops.  From a dozen feet away it looks like something has bored holes through the body of the cow.  Dark blood is splattered around the nearby rocks.  

Something pokes its head up out of the animal’s remains.  It’s a red animal, looking like a cross between a weasel and a fox.  The local giants would call it a blood fox, but Kay has never seen anything quite like it before.  She casts _speak with animals_.

“Hello.  What are…”

“Hungry!  Fresh food!” chatters the creature.  

Kay has just enough to time to wonder how a creature that small, that seems to have recently devoured most of a cow half the size of an elephant, could still be hungry.   Then the blood fox springs on her.  

It’s the fastest living thing she has ever seen.  There is a blur of red, and in less than a second the creature has latched its jaws onto the flesh below her left shoulder.  Four claws grip her body while razor-sharp teeth tear into her flesh.   She cries out in pain and shock, but has enough presence of mind to draw her dagger and stab at its body.

It seems like it should be an easy enough target to hit, given that it’s mostly stationary and attached to the side of her torso.  But just as the point of the dagger grazes its red fur, the sinuous body _bends_ and _snakes_ to the side, and it’s all Kay can do not to follow through and stab herself.  The claws never move, and the creature continues to chew.

Horrified, Aravis decides to take no chances.  He fires off a _chain lightning_ (albeit with only the one target) at the strange weaselly creature.  Crack!  Boom!  And the animal is unharmed, having unlatched its rear claws just long enough to swing its body out of harms way.  A half-second later it has fully latched on again.

The others realize that Kay’s life is in real danger from this creature, and start to de-mist.  To Kay’s horror the beast is now burrowing its way down the side of her body; already its head and shoulder have disappeared inside the hole it’s carving for itself.   The left side of her body has gone numb, and she feels faint.  Desperately she stabs again with her dagger, but the animal effortlessly twists out of the way.

Dranko watches in shock, wondering what he can do to help.  He could cast healing spells on Kay but that would just serve as a delaying action; he can’t possible heal her faster than this… thing… is eating her alive.   Not knowing what else to do he takes out his _decanter of endless water_, takes aim, and shouts “geyser!” 

The stream of water knocks Kay back a few feet but does not deter the creature in the slightest.  

Kibi is also not sure what to do, but there’s surely no help he can offer as a dragon.  He changes back into his natural dwarven shape.

Kay feels her consciousness starting to slip away.  The creature has now burrowed from her shoulder to her waist; her skin bulges grotesquely, splitting open in places.  In another few seconds she will be dead, just like the cows.  With nothing else to do she steadies the dagger as best as she can, and stabs _through_ her _own body,_ into the body of the beast where Kay’s own torso prevents it from twisting out of the way.  With pain and satisfaction she feels the dagger sink into the creature. 

_At least I’ll take you with me, you son of a…_

In a split second it has leapt fully out Kay's body, landing several feet away and chattering angrily.   The pain is too much; Kay falls over in a faint, blood pouring out of her.   The red furry beast flees across the tundra, and Aravis sends a parting _fireball_ after it, which it smoothly dodges.  Dranko rushes over to apply healing to Kay.  A few seconds later the rest of the party solidifies and crowds around.

“What in Delioch’s name _was_ that?” wonders Dranko out loud.

“Fast,” says Grey Wolf.

“Supernaturally fast,” says Aravis. 

“Nothing would just evolve that way, out here,” says Kay weakly.  

“But now we know why certain areas are uninhabited,” says Kibi.

The party opts to sleep in _rope tricks_ that night.

* *

Dranko wakes up the next morning on the floor of the _rope trick_ looking idly at his hand.  Specifically, the hand with the _ring of djinni summoning_ on it.  

He slaps his forehead.

“You know,” he says to the others waking up beside him, “we’ve had the ability to _wind walk_ everyone this whole time.  The Djinni can do it!”

“That will be useful today,” says Morningstar.  “I’m thinking that it’s time we started working on the problem of just where Het Branoi _is._  That means _find the path_ spells, and no _wind walks_ for me.”

From prior experience the Company knows that Het Branoi is shielded from direct divinations – not surprising, given the Black Circle’s affinity for Divination as a school.   The morning and early afternoon are spent thinking of ways to fool the tower’s protections.    Dranko hits upon the idea that if there’s a tower in the wilderness full of Black Circle mages and priests, they’ve got to have somewhere _outside_ the tower to dispose of their wastes.  Eventually they settle on two wordings to try. 

Morningstar casts _find the path_, seeking *”The waste dump nearest to Het Branoi.”*

She feels a stirring in her mind as the magic reaches out… and is abruptly cut off, by… something.

“Nope,” she reports, shaking her head.  “It could be that the mention of Het Branoi by name triggers the defense, even though I wasn’t targeting it directly.”

She tries again.  She seeks *”The waste dump nearest to the closest invisible tower”*.  Again the divinatory magic is pinched off near the source.

“Damn.”

Kibi casts _non detection_ on Morningstar right away to foil any possible counter-scrying the Black Circle might attempt.

The party members look at each other gloomily.

“We can still make some distance today,” says Aravis.  “If nothing else, we might as well keep heading toward where “Branoi” is marked on our map.”

“I don’t think the genie can _wind walk_ all of us, but it will save us some _fly_ spells,” says Dranko.  He concentrates on his ring and blue smoke starts to billow out from it.  A few seconds later the impressive Al Tarqoz floats before them.

He’s eating a chicken leg.

He looks around and his expression curdles.

“Ah,” he says to Dranko, his voice booming and yet aggrieved.   “Your timing is exquisite.   With your permission, oh most generous master, may I finish my meal?  It will only be a moment.”

“Er… yeah,” says Dranko.

They watch Al Tarqoz finish his meat and drop the bone to the tundra.  

“Now how may I serve my benevolent master?”

“You can cast _wind walk_, right?” asks Dranko.

“Of course!  Many have been the times that previous masters of the ring have requested this service.  I would be _most_ pleased to cast the spell for you.  I’m _sure_ that _I_ would have no need of it myself, after all.”

“Thanks,” says Dranko, diligently ignoring the sarcasm.  “How many of us can you get?”

“Six of you.  Will that suffice?”

A moment later over half the Company is vaporous.  

“Will that be all, my master?” asks Al Tarqoz.

“Yes, that will be…”

The genie vanishes.  Dranko shouts after him:  “Take the chicken bone!  No littering!”

Grey Wolf looks down at the discarded bone.

“Ah, the circle of life,” he comments dryly.

* *

The next day the party wakes to find it snowing outside the _rope tricks_.   Ernie prepares breakfast shivering in the blustery morning air.  A breeze blows across the tundra, kicking up little whorls of powder.  While people huddle around a small fire and eat, Aravis speaks up.

“I’ve been thinking.  We may have already _seen_ Het Branoi.   Remember, in the Crosser’s Maze, when Solomea tried to trick us into thinking we had succeeded?  And we asked to be teleported to Het Branoi, and we saw that tower in the distance?  The Maze’s interior is fashioned partly out of reality.  I’m going to try going into the Maze and see if I can find it again.  That might help us find the real version, out here.”

It’s an interesting idea that unfortunately has no chance of working, as Aravis finds that he still cannot access the Maze.  He slumps over with a pounding headache just for having tried.  Dranko pokes him with a finger, administering a _cure minor wounds_.

They eat the rest of their breakfast in silence, all of them thinking of what to do next.  Here they are, camped on the cold plains of northeastern Kivia.  The only intelligent life for hundreds of miles are giants.   And they’re looking for an invisible tower shielded from conventional divination magic.  

“Couldn’t we have looked for a needle in a haystack instead?” complains Flicker.  “This is stupid.  We might as well fly around in pairs with string, waiting to find the damned tower that way.   That should only take us a couple of decades.”

More silence.

“Wait a minute,” says Aravis, sitting up straighter.  "I can’t use the Maze, but maybe Morningstar can…”

He shares his new idea with the rest.  Eyebrows shoot up all over the place.

“Could work,” says Morningstar.  “Let’s work on the phrasing, and then I’ll give it a try.”

A few minutes later she casts _find the path_, seeking *”The place that Solomea showed us a representation of, when we believed we were being shown the next step in our quest.”*

Aravis feels a dull twinge in his head. 

And Morningstar knows the direction.  She points to the south-east.

“That way,” she says, smiling.  “Let’s go.”

…to be continued…


----------



## Uzumaki

Heh. I'd almost forgotten about _that_ thread. I can't remember; did you guys think that solution up by yourselves?


----------



## Caliber

Yay!

The Blood Fox sounds nasty. And the Djinn and ...

Yay!


----------



## Zustiur

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 180
> 
> Soon the Company is soaring over the jungle at 35 MPH. It takes a few minutes for Pewter to overcome his terror at riding so high on dragon-back, but he can dig his scales into Aravis’ scaly back as deeply as he needs to. The wind-walkers match speeds with the dragon. Below them the jungle speeds by.
> 
> …to be continued… *




Ahem. Unless that poor bloody cat has had a nasty encounter with a certain wand of magic missiles that I don't remember laughing about.... you mean dig his CLAWS in Aravis's scaly back 


Edit:
just read the djinn bit... My my Sagiro, you've been reading Pratchett again haven't you? Damned djini's with more than one thing to do.
Zustiur.


----------



## Sagiro

Zustiur said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Ahem. Unless that poor bloody cat has had a nasty encounter with a certain wand of magic missiles that I don't remember laughing about.... you mean dig his CLAWS in Aravis's scaly back
> *



Ah, EN World... land of a thousand proofreaders.  

(fixed)

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

Now the Blood Fox was indeed a nasty, speedy little bundle of fur and ouch.  But the really brilliant moment was when Aravis (the player) got home and told his wife (Iron Chef BBQ) of the evening's fun.

"Why didn't you just cast _Magic Missile_ at it?" asked Chef, who plays a mid-level sorceror in my game, and knows the power of MM.

The sound of the collective forehead slapping when Aravis told us this could be heard four streets away.  D'oh.  

Ug.  Us smart gamers.  Us play many years.  Us forget first level spells.


----------



## coyote6

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *"Why didn't you just cast Magic Missile at it?" asked Chef, *




I wondered that very thing. "Dodged a dagger and a _chain lightning_? Ooh, high AC and evasion. They'll have to _magic missile_ it."


----------



## Fade

_Polymorph Other_ or other non-ray fortitude-save spell would also work.


----------



## target

A fantastic update.  Sagiro's updates, while few and far between, are generally quite satisfying, as they are meaty, full of substance, and also huge.

Lots of reading makes for a happy target.

- target


----------



## LightPhoenix

Is there any chance we might be able to see the stats of the Blood Fox in another thread?  I'm willing to bet it's just a fox or something with a natural _haste_ effect, but I want to know for sure.


----------



## Destil

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *“Suit yourself,” says Pewter.  “I have complete faith that I’m going to land on my feet when I… ABANDON DRAGON!”*



Pewter can talk, now? I remember the party used speak with animals in order for him to relay information between Avris (in the maze) and themselves at one point, so is this new?

Not that I'm complaining I've always liked Pewter. That line had me laughing for a while.


----------



## Sagiro

Destil said:
			
		

> *Pewter can talk, now? I remember the party used speak with animals in order for him to relay information between Avris (in the maze) and themselves at one point, so is this new?
> 
> Not that I'm complaining I've always liked Pewter. That line had me laughing for a while. *



Naw... That's just Pewter and Aravis "talking" over their standard mage-and-familiar mind link.  Sorry for the confusion.

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> *Is there any chance we might be able to see the stats of the Blood Fox in another thread?  I'm willing to bet it's just a fox or something with a natural haste effect, but I want to know for sure.  *



Sure... here it is!  (My players, please stay out...)

blood fox

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 182*_

The Company breaks camp and soon is flying across the snowy plains of Surgoil, Morningstar in the lead.  But about half an hour later Aravis feels another odd twinge in his head and Morningstar (independently) comes to a halt.

“It’s gone,” she says, frowning.  “I’m no longer sensing a direction.”

“I think the defenses of Het Branoi kicked in,” says Aravis.

“We’ve been going in a straight line all this time,” Ernie points out.  “We should just keep flying.”

Kay assumes the lead position, having the best sense of direction in the group.  They fly onward, high above the largely-featureless landscape, still speckled with giantish farms and villages.  Twenty minutes after the _find the path_ spell stopped working, Morningstar informs the other that it has come back on again. 

“We haven’t passed it,” says Morningstar.  She adjusts Kay’s trajectory by a couple of degrees and they continue on.  For another hour this pattern persists, with Morningstar’s divination blinking on and off as it clashes with the mystical defenses of Het Branoi.   Eventually the spell expires on its own, but they keep going.  

An hour later they spy a particularly large giantish town ahead.    Kay and Morningstar don’t think it’s precisely on the line indicated by the _find the path_, but it’s their best lead so far.  A few party members are made to be both _wind walking_ and _invisible_.  

“We should be looking for places where an invisible tower might be standing,” says Dranko.  “Lawns, courtyards, open spaces.  We’ll signal over the _Rary’s_ if we run into something.”

He means this last part literally.  Moving at top speed, half the party flies over the walls and starts whipping through the giantish town, staying low and avoiding giants.  They fly bodily through every likely open space they can find, hoping to smack into Het Branoi.  For the duration of the _invisibility_ spell they search but come up empty.  Dranko has a moment of excitement when he rounds of corner and flies into a giant’s knees, but the giant merely looks around puzzled before continuing on his way.

They fly on for another hour before a second large town comes into view, and this one is directly in the path of their divination.  More _invisibilities_ are cast and another wind-walking sweep is made…  and this time they find something.

It’s not an invisible tower but it sure is interesting, and more than a little disturbing.   There is a courtyard in the town, surrounded by buildings on all sides.   In the center of that courtyard is an enormous statue.  The base is a thirty-foot-tall, ten foot diameter stone monolith, slightly wider at the base than the top.  And atop this base is a enormous stone beholder, itself fifteen feet in diameter.  

(The Company has seen beholders before.  There was a mutilated beholder in a rare-creature zoo in Zhamir.   The daughter of Ozilinsh’s old mentor had prepared an illusionary beholder to guard her library.  And Solomea in the Crosser’s Maze had briefly taken on the aspect of a beholder. )

They fervently hope that if there are any _real_ beholders around, they aren’t as big as this one!

An interior balcony twenty feet off the ground runs the entire perimeter of the courtyard.  Two bored-looking giants dragging large clubs patrol this balcony, casting glances into the courtyard from time to time.  Thinking that whoever is in the tower might have the means to see them, the wind-walkers withdraw to rejoin the others flying several hundred feet above the town.

Morningstar checks out the location in Ava Dormo.  She is surprised to find that in the Dreamscape, the courtyard is empty.  No beholder statue, no secret Black Circle tower, no nothin’.   But that discontinuity itself is a sign that they have stumbled across something of magical significance.  The Company withdraws a couple of miles from the town and takes the Divination Sink out of their _bag of holding_, to foil any attempts to locate them magically.

An hour later, Dranko and Kibi (both _invisible_) set out to walk back toward the city.  No, they’re not planning an assault.   When they get with a mile of the place, Kibi casts _prying eyes_  and gives his little sensors instructions to *spread out and stay hidden, scouting around the courtyard with the beholder statue.  Come back in one hour to report*.  Off go thirteen little magical eyes.  

Two of them return.   Kibi holds them in his hands and absorbs their information, after which he and Dranko return to the camp.  It’s dark by the time they arrive.

“Eleven of my prying eyes were dispelled,” says Kibi as the others crowd around to listen.  “But the other two saw why.  I think the entire courtyard area is inside a huge Divination Sink.  There are four large round stones, one at each corner of the balcony.  I caught a glimpse of blue light coming from inside these stones.  As soon as a prying eye got inside the covered area it was annihilated.  But two of the eyes watched from a high vantage point, up near the top of the beholder statue.  I guess the Sinks don’t extend up that high.  They watched from there for most of the hour, and saw several of the other eyes blink out of existence.  They also watched those two guard giants make their rounds.  From so high up it was tough to figure out what they were doing, but they may have been involved in some kind of ritual.   They were walking in opposite directions, and making some gestures to each other as they passed.

“But that’s it.  No one else came into the courtyard.  No one walked out of the statue.  The statue didn’t do anything.  It was… boring.”

The Company talks for a few more minutes about the situation.  They are collectively of the opinion that the statue _is_ Het Branoi, and that there must be some secret entrance to it.

Ernie starts preparing dinner while the others wrap themselves in warm blankets against the wind.  

“I hope the smell of my food doesn’t attract any of those fox-things around here,” he says.

The Company looks around nervously at the thought.  Then Flicker pipes up:

“Say, Aravis and Kibi, if we do get attacked by a fox, couldn’t you guys use _magic missile_ to kill ‘em?  I mean, they’re super quick and dodge everything, but you can’t dodge a _magic missile_.  Right?”

Everyone is quiet for a moment.   Aravis stares at Flicker, which is always unnerving given the wizard’s star-field eyes.   The silence stretches on long enough that Flicker starts to think he’d made some kind of faux-pas.

“What?  It was just a sug…”

“Flicker,” says Aravis.  “In the years to come, feel free to remind me of this moment, in case I ever get too sure of myself.  _Magic missile._  Of _course_ that would work!  It’s the most obvious thing in the world!  I have no idea why I didn’t think of it.”

“Maybe it was the sight of Kay getting eaten?” says Flicker.

“Maybe.”

“Don’t feel bad, boss,” says Pewter.  “I didn’t think of it either.”

Morningstar sits down next to Snokas while they eat.

“Snokas, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure.  Go ahead!”

“You’ve probably seen by now that our group makes decisions democratically.  When there’s disagreement about our collective course of action, we take a vote.”

“I’ve figured that out, yeah.”

“I’ve noticed that every time, you’ve voted the same way as I have.”

“Yup,” agrees Snokas.

“Is that because you don’t want to disagree with me?” asks Morningstar.

Snokas scratches his head.

“No, I don’t think so.  More likely, since both of us are serving Ell, we just see most things the same way.  But if you want to me to vote with you when it matters, I would certainly be happy to…”

“No, no!” Morningstar interrupts.  “What I’m trying to tell you is, I _don’t_ want you to feel like you have to vote the same way I do.  You’re a full-fledged member of our company.  You should think for yourself, and decide for yourself how you feel.”

Snokas thinks for a minute.

“Yeah, sure.  That’s fine with me.  Thanks.”

An hour later the Company is sleeping soundly, safe inside Aravis’ _rope tricks_.

* *

An hour after that, the Company is treated to as rude awakening as there is; their _rope tricks_ are _dispelled_ out from under them!  Whoomph!  The party is greeted by the shock of cold night air, followed closely by the shock of falling six feet onto the snowy ground.  Shaking off sleep with the efficiency of seasoned adventurers they start to scramble for weapons.  Dranko and Kibi, the only ones able to see in the dark, cast quick looks around them.  Where are their attackers?

Ah.  There they are.  Above them.  And they’re…

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Floating about thirty feet off the ground in a wide ring around the Company, are seven miniature beholders.   Each has a mottled purple round body slightly bigger than a soccer ball, with eight wiggling eyestalks protruding from the top.  Each also has a large central eye, and these are looking directly down at the party.

As one all seven close their central eyes, and the magic starts flying.

Each mini-beholder fires from the same three front-facing eyestalks.  That makes seven white rays of dexterity draining, seven arcing one-target lightning bolts, and twenty-eight magic missiles.  The magical artillery rains around the party, crackling and hissing.   Significant quantities of damage are taken by various members of the Company.

There is almost no talk of fighting, though Kay quickly picks up her bow and slings her quiver over her shoulder.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” shouts Morningstar.  “One more volley like that and we’ll start dropping.”

“Agreed!” says Dranko.  “Ernie, can you give us cover?”  

“On it!” answers Ernie.  He casts _obscuring mist_.  

“How did they find us?” wonders Flicker aloud.

“If they can see invisible people, they could have followed Dranko and me back after I cast _prying eyes_,” says Kibi.

“It doesn’t matter!” says Dranko.  “But whoever’s in that statue must know that we’re here.  Crap!”

“Gather up your stuff!” says Morningstar, her voice muffled by the fog.  “Once we’re ready I’ll cast _wind walk_ and the wizards can _teleport_ us back to yesterday’s camp.”

[*aside:  it’s standard operating procedure for the wizards to study a safe ‘teleport here’ location at each night’s campsite before going to bed.*]

“Or maybe angry giants will save us,” says Kibi.

A few seconds later the magical mist vanishes.   The seven mini-beholders still hover above and around them, watching.  All of their main eyes are open again.   Kay takes aim and lets fly with an arrow; it sticks into the side of one of the bobbing creatures.  The beast emits a small shriek.

“Why aren’t they attacking us?” asks Flicker, as he grabs for loose items on the ground.  “Oh, hey, Morningstar, I think this is your _Ioun Stone_.”

“Just stuff it in your pocket.”

“They can’t attack us,” says Aravis, “because they have us in an _anti-magic_ field.   If they drop the field to attack, the fog comes back and they can’t easily target us.  It’s a stalemate.”

“Not quite,” says Kay.  She shoots three more arrows, two of which find their mark.  The mini-beholder drops out of the air and splats on the ground like a half-deflated volleyball.

“Either way,” says Dranko.  “Keep picking stuff up.”

Hastily the Company gathers their belongings.  As they do, the beholders start to let out strange keening noises.

“I think they’re communicating,” says Ernie.

A few seconds later the beholders begin to shift their positions slightly, drawing in one end of the oval.   One Certain Step, at the edge of the party’s cluster, is suddenly enveloped in a small fog cloud of his own.   Just as it dawns on the party what the beholders are doing, the three creatures on Step’s side of the oval fire into the fog with their dex-draining rays and lightning blasts.  They can’t see him, but they’ve narrowed down where he can be to single small area.   

“Augh!” shouts Step from his sliver of fog.  

“Crafty little things,” says Morningstar.  “They’re trying to isolate one of us outside of the anti-magic zone.  But actually that’s just what we need if we want to flee.  If everyone’s got their stuff, crowd into that fog, and leave enough room for me and the wizards.”

Everyone scrambles and jams themselves into the pocket of fog that’s outside the anti-magic field.  Morningstar moves into it and casts _wind walk_ on as many of her friends as possible, making the total weight of the party viable for mass _teleporting_.  Then Aravis and Kibi move in, reach out to make contact with everyone else, and cast _teleport_.

Just like that they are miles away, at the encampment spot of the previous night.

“Sh*t!” exclaims Dranko.  “I’m getting sick of fleeing from ambushes.”

“We’ve got it down to a science though,” points out Grey Wolf.

“To think,” says Ernie.  “All those years I never cast _obscuring mist_, and now it’s saved our butts twice.  It’s good to know we have an out.”

“We ran from baby monsters!” objects Dranko.  “Baby monsters!”

“I hate to bring this up,” says Aravis, “but they found us once already, inside _rope tricks_.  They could do it again.  We even had the Divination Sink out.  We must be cautious.”

Aravis casts _Leomund’s secure shelter_ and the party piles inside, bringing the Divination Sink with them.  

Ernie dumps his stuff next to one of the bunks and climbs into bed.  As the Company falls asleep for the second time that night, he mutters,  “I like beholders better when they’re selling us chess pieces.”

…to be continued…


----------



## RangerWickett

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> Sure... here it is!  (My players, please stay out...)
> 
> -Sagiro *




Cool stuff all around.  I don't want to spoil the fun, but if the PCs know what's good for them, they won't bother trying to magic missile it.  The blood fox already ate one of those mini-beholders, and so it'd just go crazy bullet-time fast and zap the magic missiles out of existence with its death ray antimagic eyes.

Me, personally, I'd cast animal friendship and try to make it my familiar.  Make sure to keep a rolled up newspaper to bap it on the nose with when its being naughty, like when it eats Dranko's slippers.  Or his head.

But first they'll have to find it.  And the only way to find a blood fox, is to use a _blood hound_.  

*deposits a quarter to the piggy for a bad pun*


----------



## StevenAC

Hi, Sagiro.

I've been lurking on this Story Hour almost since its beginning, several message boards ago.  For a newbie DM, it's been an inspiration to see how it _should_ be done -- not to mention providing a treasure-trove of ideas (I'm hoping to inflict some null shadows on my unsuspecting players in the near future...).

I've often intended to de-lurk and congratulate you in the past, and it was this line that finally pushed me over the edge:



> _Originally posted by Sagiro_
> 
> "We ran from baby monsters!" objects Dranko.  "Baby monsters!"




Giggle.  Ambushed by baby beholders.  How embarrassing.  I bet if Dranko ever tells the story to anyone else, the beholders will all be the size of that statue... 

A couple of questions on the last few runs, if I may:

(1) When did the Eyes of Moirel take up residence inside Scree?  That came as a surprise to me.  I remember them shining in Kibi's hands, just before the world changed, but nothing about them after that.

(2) How much of all the dialogue in the Story Hour posts actually comes from the players "at the table", and how much is generated during the write-up?  The recent posts have had a wonderful story-telling feel, with characterisation and dialogue more like a novel than a game session.


----------



## Sagiro

StevenAC said:
			
		

> *Hi, Sagiro.
> 
> ...
> 
> Giggle.  Ambushed by baby beholders.  How embarrassing.  I bet if Dranko ever tells the story to anyone else, the beholders will all be the size of that statue...
> 
> A couple of questions on the last few runs, if I may:
> 
> (1) When did the Eyes of Moirel take up residence inside Scree?  That came as a surprise to me.  I remember them shining in Kibi's hands, just before the world changed, but nothing about them after that.
> 
> (2) How much of all the dialogue in the Story Hour posts actually comes from the players "at the table", and how much is generated during the write-up?  The recent posts have had a wonderful story-telling feel, with characterisation and dialogue more like a novel than a game session. *



StevenAC -- 

Thanks for you kindly comments on the story... I'm glad you're enjoying it!  To answer your questions:

1) I went back to find the passage you missed about the Eyes, and discovered to my shame that I never wrote it!  So, for you and all other readers, what happened was:  When the Company decided to leave Pyke Vale and head to the jungle, they wanted to take the Eyes with them.   Kibi asked them (verbally) if they wanted him to carry them.  In response they rolled out of their closet and hopped into Scree's body.  Scree was startled at first, and creeped out as you might expect.  But it wasn't painful or uncomfortable and he soon got used to it.

2) Heretofore not much of the dialogue in the Story Hour is precisely verbatim, though most of it is highly representational of what was actually said.   Maybe 10% of the dialogue is actually quoted (including Dranko's line about baby monsters) -- when someone says something particularly funny or important, I write it down.  Also, the sooner I write up the story after a session, the more dialogue I get right because it's fresher in my mind.  But my memory isn't the best, alas.

I've made a conscious decision recently to write the Story more like a story, with more dialogue, and less like a dry journal.  I want it to be more fun for people to read.  Other Story Hours on the board have raised the bar is this regard; I'm just trying to keep up!    They are still extremely faithful to the game itself; I don't add anything that didn't happen, or make significant embellishments to the narrative.  

The last game I ran (still a few runs away story-hour-wise) I tried an experiment which worked pretty well:  I audio-taped the game session!  (I was tired of forgetting all the witty banter, and occasionaly forgetting important bits, like the Eyes deciding to travel in Kibi's familiar.  )  As a result, the story hour post for that run will contain nothing but actual dialogue, and is guaranteed to be 100% complete.  

Oh, and I'll be posting another update later today... promise!

-Sagiro


----------



## thatdarncat

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *The last game I ran (still a few runs away story-hour-wise) I tried an experiment which worked pretty well:  I audio-taped the game session!  *




Ummm any chance you'll be posting an MP3 of that? 

I've thought about recording a game session a few times, but I haven't gotten around to it yet. Good to know it works out so well


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 183*_

The next morning the Company prepares for an assault on the statue.  The attack by the beholders is clearly a sign that the enemy – either the giants, or the Black Circle inside the tower – is on to them.  The longer they wait, the more likely it is that they’ll be rediscovered, Divination Sink or no.

A plan is made and prep spells are cast: _wind walk, invisibility, fly,_ and _telepathic bond._  The wizards will _teleport_ back to the well-studied location of last night’s battle, and from they’re they’ll breeze invisibly in toward the statue.   There’s a momentary setback when Aravis’s _teleport_ goes awry, leaving half the party in a similar-looking but far-distant area.  Fortunately Aravis always carries a spare.

The only sign of the miniature beholders is the corpse of the one they killed.  It lays on the ground, motionless and slightly collapsed.  The Company spends a minute debating whether it would be worth casting _speak with dead_ on the body, but decide to press ahead with their assault on the statue.  Moments later the whole Company is high-flying toward the giantish city.   As they approach they see several livestock enclosures on the town’s outskirts – giant cows and sheep, mostly, but one pen holds enormous giant-sized chickens!

“Hey Flicker,” thinks Dranko over the mind-link.  “We could steal one of those for you as a mount!”

“I have no desire for a riding chicken,” Flicker thinks back at him.

Unseen, the Company soars high over the stone walls and settles on a rooftop near to the central plaza with the beholder statue.   Morningstar is well-prepared for the next stage of the plan.  She comes out of _ wind walk_ but is still flying and invisible. She drifts above the courtyard where two giants (a different pair from the ones seen by Kibi’s _prying eyes_) are walking patrol up on the balconies.   For a minute she just watches them.  Twice on each circuit they meet up, walking in opposite directions.  When they do, the two giants raise their hands and give each other a “high five” with varying numbers of fingers raised.   Is it a game, or a secret signal?  Are there Black Circle priests watching from inside the statue somehow?

There are spots along the balconies where the four Divination Sinks probably don’t cover.  When the two giants are approaching one of these she swoops down and casts three silent _thought captures._

The first reveals a general feeling of boredom.

“That’s about to change,” thinks Morningstar to herself.

The second reveals a specific thought:  “I sure can’t wait for dinner.”  The third is similar in tone; the thought is: “I can’t believe I got this crummy assignment twice in one week!”

“They don’t tend to think about their job, or about the Black Circle, or about the statue,” Morningstar reports over the _telepathic bond._  “It seems like they’re just grunts.”

She casts a silent _detect thoughts_ and waits for one of the giants to walk past.   The creature is humming, and its thoughts match the humming.  It’s a tuneless little ditty, and the giant smiles as it hums.  

“Grook pak braaaag, Grook nish florg.  Grook blug dekker etter snog snog plorg.”  

It sounds like the giant is making up a song!  Continuing with her plan, Morningstar casts a silent _comprehend languages_ to learn just what the giant is singing.  Maybe it holds a clue…

“I saw me a boulder, looking like a house.  Even had a chimney and some little pebble cows.   Saw me a boulder, looking like a jug.  Went to take a drink, but I didn’t have a mug…”

It continues like that; it’s a ballad about a giant who goes wandering and sees boulder in various shapes.  

The giant’s thoughts change as the other giant approaches.  Now it’s thinking:  

“Odd.  He’s going three fingers I’ll bet, so I’ll go two.  Ok, here he comes… Ready, up, and…”

The two giants slap hands.  Morningstar’s giant does so with two fingers raised, and says “odd”;  the other giant has four finger’s raised.   The second giant laughs, and Morningstar’s giant thinks:  “Dang.  That’s four in a row I’ve lost!  Boy, I’m hungry.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” thinks Dranko upon hearing Morningstar’s report.  “It’s time to move in and get a better look at the statue.”

All of the Company who are _invisible_ fly over to the top of the statue, congregating next to the huge stone beholder.

“Wait, back off for a minute” thinks Morningstar.  “I have a couple more silent _thought captures_.  If this statue is really Het Branoi and there’s a way in, I could get some useful thoughts up here.”

Both the thoughts she picks up are by Dranko and Flicker.  Oh well.

Upon close examination the beholder statue is an exquisite work of art.  The stone is crafted beautifully, each eyestalk cunningly carved.  The body’s stone surface shows the patterned mottling of its skin.  Each tooth in its open mouth looks razor sharp.

“Maybe it’s an actual giant-sized beholder, turned to stone,” thinks Flicker.

“The strange thing is, it’s not weathered,” thinks Dranko.  “I mean, it’s windy and cold up here.  It must hail and sleet sometimes.  But there's not a scratch on this thing.  It could have been sculpted yesterday.”

He ponders for a moment.

“In fact…”

Dranko disbelieves that the statue is real.  A few seconds later it fades (to him) into a background translucency, revealing a stone tower of about the same size and shape, just _inside_ the statue, like a weapon in its sheath.

“Bingo!” thinks Dranko.  He conveys his discovery to the others, and soon they all see the reality.  The beholder statue and its huge pedestal are an illusion, masking a tower whose surface is just beneath the surface of the illusion.

Unfortunately the tower has no visible doors or windows.

“It’s like Abernathy’s tower,” thinks Kay.

“But full of evil stuff,” adds Grey Wolf.

“We shouldn’t be dawdling out here,” thinks Morningstar.  “They’re probably watching us right now.  We still need to get in.”

“I’ve got something to try,” says Aravis.  “If it doesn’t have a door, I can make one with _passwall._"

The others agree that this is the best plan.  They can be inside the tower before the giants know what’s going on.  They all fly down near the tower’s base, ready to enter Aravis’ magical entrance.   He waits until the two giants are far away and on the opposite side of the statue, and he casts his spell.

WHOOMPH!

The entire party is enveloped in a burst of hot energy that blisters their skin and knocks them backward onto the grass!  Worse, there is no sign that the _passwall_ had any effect save to set off the magical blast.

With her _comprehend languages_ spell still up, Morningstar hears the two giants up on the balcony.

“What was that?” cries the first.

“Holy Sh*t!” cries the second.

Both giants are staring down at the base of the statue.

There is panicky mental discussion over the _telepathic bond_.

“What do we do?”
“We can’t let them raise an alarm.”
“Should we kill them?”
“We can’t just kill them; they haven’t done anything.”
“I kind of _like_ them.”
“We still have to keep them from bringing other giants.”
“We can fight to subdue.”
“I can trap one of them.”
“If we do something about those Divination Sinks, we might spot a way into the tower.”
“I’m on it.”
“Ok, let’s do it.”

Aravis flies to one corner of the raised courtyard walkway, where one of the Divination Sinks squats in its stone casement.   He knows it won’t be possible to remove the Sink itself (as it’s set deep into the stone) or to move the stone casing itself (it’s a boulder almost five feet in diameter).  So (still _invisible_, mind) he _polymorphs_ into a giant himself!  

Flicker, mindful of what happened when Aravis tried to _passwall_ into the tower, tentatively reaches out toward its smooth stone face with his hand.   He winces at the moment of contact, but when nothing painful occurs he busily sets out searching the tower exterior by feel.  Ernie and Kay join him.

Up on the wall, the giants move a bit closer for a quick confab.  Morningstar, still under the effects of a _comprehend languages_, relays their discussion.

“Do you know what that was?”

“Hell no!  I mean, yeah, we have to guard the statue, but everyone knows nothing ever actually _happens_ to it.”

“It flashed!”

“Yes, I saw.”

“I guess we should go get Eigomic then.”

“Yeah.”

“But…uh…one of us should stay, right?  In case anything else happens.”

“Good point.  You stay, I’ll go tell Eigomic.”

“I think I should go.  I’m faster.”

“Fine, you go, I’ll stay.  Hurry up!”

“Wait… what’s that sound.  Someone down there is talking!”

The giants listen curiously to the sound of Kibi, _invisible_ to the last moment, casting _confusion_ on them.  Miraculously one of them shakes it off, but the other clutches its head and then looks around stupidly.  The unaffected giant’s eyes widen as Kibi pops into view down in the courtyard.

“Hey!  There’s a tiny little…” 

He’s cut off as he becomes trapped in a constricting lidless stone cell; Morningstar casts _wall of stone_ and confines the unconfused giant to a box five feet on a side and fifteen feet tall.   It would be a roomy enclosure (relatively speaking) for a human, but for a fifteen foot tall giant it’s terribly cramped.  

“Krag!” shouts the giant, alarmed.  “There’s a midget magic guy down there.  Get Eigomic!  Get help!”

Near the opposite corner, over a hundred feet away from the giants, Aravis sets his giantish shoulders to the stone block and _heaves._  Strong though he is, the stone is too much for him.  It moves less than an inch before the wizard pulls up, panting.   

“Damn,” he thinks to the others.  “Still too heavy.  I’ll need help.”

Dranko flies up to stand near the trapped giant’s prison, ready with his whip in case the giant tries to climb out.  Grey Wolf, near the statue, flies straight up and keeps a constant watch on all of the entrances to the courtyard.

The confused giant looks up, looks down, looks to the right… and then looks right at Kibi, who’s the only visible member of the Company.   Filled with a sudden rage the giant leaps down from the high balcony, landing awkwardly and wrenching his knee.  He stumbles toward the dwarf.  Alarmed, Kibi flies around the statue, putting it in the way of the giant’s line of sight.  Then the dwarf uses his _staff of conjuration_ to call forth a small xorn.

Still _wind walking_, Step and Snokas fly over to and then swirl around the giant, who now becomes _really_ confused.   It swats vaguely and ineffectually at the two of them.

From inside Morningstar’s _wall of stone_ come the sounds of a struggling giant cursing the lack of elbow room.   He can’t get any leverage to even try smashing the stone.  Giantish fingers appear, curled over the top lip of the box.   Dranko cracks his whip with an expert touch, the fingers vanish back inside the box, and the cursing continues.  

Morningstar casts _memory read_, and moves a bit closer to the confused giant, which is waving its club menacingly as it limps toward Kibi.  

“Still could be a problem touching it,” she thinks.

“Aw, what the hell,” thinks Aravis.  “Hold on.”

Leaving the stone housing the Divination Sink, Aravis (still in giant-form) flies straight across the courtyard and plows into the giant.  They fall to the ground and start to grapple.

“That’ll make it easier,” thinks Morningstar.  “Just don’t roll over at the last minute.”

Kibi finishes summoning his xorn.  He speaks to it in Terran.

“Mr. Xorn, if you wouldn’t mind, we’d like you to tunnel your way into that tower.  The statue is an illusion, and the tower is right inside.”

“Yes,” rumbles the xorn.  It reaches out and pushes its body into the tower, expecting to glide through the stone as though it were water.  It fails.

“The stone resists,” grumbles the xorn.  “It’s not natural.”

“I though it might be,” sighs Kibi.  “Sorry.”

“Maybe it can help with the Divination Sinks,” suggests Aravis over the mindlink.

The giant in the box tries to climb out again.  This time it gets an elbow up onto the ledge and pokes its head out the top.  He peers at Dranko (now visible).  “Gooka ruk takka blarg skiblish?” it asks.

“It wants to know what we’re doing here,” thinks Morningstar, translating. 

“A ha!” cries Flicker.  “I’ve got something!  It’s a seam, like there’s a doorway cut into the tower.   It’s got a keyhole and everything.  And the door is human sized, not giant sized.”

“Can you pick the lock?” thinks Dranko.

“Not likely,” answers Flicker.  “I may be good, but I can’t pick locks by feel.  I need to _see_ it, but the whole doorway is invisible.”

“With those Divination Sinks, no one’s seeing anything,” thinks Step over the mindlink.

Kibi looks at the little xorn.  He looks up and across the courtyard to the nearest Divination Sink.  

“I want you to try moving that rock,” says Kibi to his _summoned_ creature.

“I can’t reach it,” it rumbles.  “It’s off the ground.”

“I’m going to pick you up and fly there.  It’ll only take a few seconds.”

“What does that mean?” asks the xorn suspiciously.  “’Fly?’”

“I’m going to lift you off the ground.  We’ll move through the air.”

“You’ll WHAT?  No!  I can’t leave the… hey… put me down.  What’s… aaah….NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The xorn’s terrified cry sounds like a tiny little earthquake, as Kibi wraps his arms around what passes for its waist and flies up to the balcony.  He quickly drops it onto the stone walkway.

“Never. Do. That. Again,” the xorn threatens.

“I know how he feels,” says Scree sympathetically.

“Sorry!  Now, please, can you try moving that stone?”

Dranko can’t understand giantish, but he can motion easily enough.  He brandishes his whip, making it obvious that attempted escape from the little stone prison is going to be _very_ painful.

“Back in the box!” he adds.

The giant looks conflicted for a few moments, and then drops back down inside the enclosure, muttering in giantish.  To show there are no hard feelings, Dranko takes his wineskin and tosses it in with the giant.

Morningstar steps forward to the grappling giants; the actual giant has gotten the upper hand, having rolled over on top of the Aravis giant.  This makes Morningstar’s spell easier; she touches the true giant and casts _memory read_, looking for the memory of “the time Eigomic divulged the most information  about this area.”  But through force of giantish will, or maybe because he’s _confused_ and cannot remember, she gets no memory of the event.  Damn!

Aravis and the giant continue to roll around on the ground, wrestling.   Pewter scrambles onto the giant’s back and bites. 

“Got ‘em, boss!”

“Did the giant… oof… notice?… ow!”

“Doesn’t look like it.  I’ll keep trying though.”

There’s some quick mental discussion; they need to talk _to_ the giants, not just listen to them.  Kibi activates his Ioun Stone of _tongues_, and begins acting as translator.

“How you doing in there?” Dranko calls to the giant in the box.

“You little guys are gonna get in big trouble!” answers the giant.

“From you?” asks Morningstar, leading him on.

“No, from the chief, and from Eigomic.  You shouldn’t be messin’ around with the statue!”

“Does someone have a way I can see the door and the keyhole?” asks Flicker impatiently.  “I’d love to get started picking this lock.  We can get in before this Eigomic character shows up.”

Kibi looks over at the xorn, who’s having no luck with the Divination Sink.

“Too heavy,” it complains.

“Wait, how about this?” says Kibi.  He flies down to ground level, tells everyone to back away, and casts _glitterdust_ on the side of the tower with the door and keyhole.   Tiny flecks of reflective glitter coat the area.  Flicker moves in for a look.

“Better.  Not great, but better.  It’s still going to be tough.  I’ll need some time.  I’ll check for traps first.”

“I hate to…ow!… bring this… oof!… up,” thinks Aravis, “but I’m not making any… ouch!…  headway here.  This giant’s a better wrestler than I am, and as long we keep fighting, we’re just wasting the last few rounds of the _confusion_.  I could use some help in subduing him.”

Morningstar starts in attacking the giant, taking great pains to inflict only subdual damage.   Dranko flies down to join her, using his whip.   It then occurs to Kibi that this might be a good time to try out a long-held magic item that they’ve never used – a _deck of illusions_.  He fishes out the 20-card deck, deals off the top, and flings the card down near the giant.

A huge red dragon springs up.

…to be continued…


----------



## Nail

A dragon, eh?

Whoops.


----------



## Sagiro

Nail said:
			
		

> *A dragon, eh?
> 
> Whoops. *



It actually works out pretty well, as you'll see when I post the next update tomorrow.  

-Sagiro


----------



## Nail

Post-a-day?

Oh baby.


----------



## Fade

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *“It’s like Abernathy’s tower,” thinks Kay.
> 
> “But full of evil stuff,” adds Grey Wolf.
> *



*

Now with creamy evil filling!*


----------



## StevenAC

> _Originally posted by Sagiro_
> 
> I've made a conscious decision recently to write the Story more like a story, with more dialogue, and less like a dry journal.  I want it to be more fun for people to read.  Other Story Hours on the board have raised the bar in this regard; I'm just trying to keep up!




Well, I've always found this Story Hour a lot of fun to read.  The additional dialogue just makes it even better!

Maybe it's because I've always read the Story Hour as it's been posted, rather than on the Charagan web site.  Having the run summaries interspersed with your insightful DM-ing comments, plus all the banter and commentary from the players and the peanut gallery, makes them seem a lot less like a "dry journal".

Of course, that's a bit more difficult to do now that the message boards those old posts appeared on are long gone.  Someone would have had to collect all of those posts, format them, and preserve them in document form for handy re-reading.

That'd be pretty... er... fannish behaviour, really, wouldn't it?   

I mean... what are the odds?


----------



## Piratecat

Want the original story hour? All praise the wayback machine! There she is, parts one and two. Darn, the internet is cool.


----------



## Swack-Iron

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *Want the original story hour? All praise the wayback machine! There she is, parts one and two. Darn, the internet is cool. *




Hey, I cancelled a game this weekend to let Bandeeto play with you guys. No foolin' around on the web! Back to gaming!!


----------



## Redwald

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *Want the original story hour? All praise the wayback machine! There she is, parts one and two. Darn, the internet is cool. *



Unfortunately, page six of that nine-page thread appears to be missing.


----------



## Barastrondo

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *“Grook pak braaaag, Grook nish florg.  Grook blug dekker etter snog snog plorg.”
> 
> It sounds like the giant is making up a song!  Continuing with her plan, Morningstar casts a silent comprehend languages to learn just what the giant is singing.  Maybe it holds a clue…
> 
> “I saw me a boulder, looking like a house.  Even had a chimney and some little pebble cows.   Saw me a boulder, looking like a jug.  Went to take a drink, but I didn’t have a mug…”
> 
> It continues like that; it’s a ballad about a giant who goes wandering and sees boulder in various shapes. *




Genius.

Not the giant, obviously, but the person behind him. Sagiro, if you ad libbed this at the table, I'm going to cry a little tear of jealousy.


----------



## blargney

Thank you for the recent bunch of updates, Sagiro!  It feels like when I first started reading story hours, and spent half a week reading all of yours

I definitely like the added dialogue, you've succeeded admirably in removing any dry journal feeling that may (or may not) have been there!

-blarg


----------



## Nail

blargney said:
			
		

> * definitely like the added dialogue, you've succeeded admirably in removing any dry journal feeling that may (or may not) have been there!*




Alright, guys.  We've got to knock off this "dry journal" bit.  It's funny that Sagiro shows his modesty in this way, true.  (The line about having to keep up is hysterical...I thread with 61,328 views needs to keep up?  Then what does my story hour need?.....eeek.)  But this isn't a "dry" journal; such a journal would not have hundreds, if not thousands of fans. 

You're doin' great, Sagiro.


----------



## Caliber

This has always been one of my favorite story hours. I am super glad to finally have it back, with rapid fire updates too!

The Giant singing to himself is hilarious. 

Keep it up. Post a day! Whohoo!


----------



## Sagiro

Nail said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Alright, guys.  We've got to knock off this "dry journal" bit.  It's funny that Sagiro shows his modesty in this way, true.  (The line about having to keep up is hysterical...I thread with 61,328 views needs to keep up?  Then what does my story hour need?.....eeek.)  But this isn't a "dry" journal; such a journal would not have hundreds, if not thousands of fans.
> 
> You're doin' great, Sagiro. *



Mmmmmmm....flattery.    But seriously, the early parts of this story hour _are_ dry...  Which is not a bad thing, since I didn't write them with an audience in mind.  I wrote them so I'd have notes about what happened, given that I was a first-time DM attempting a fairly ambitious long-term story.   Have I mentioned recently that all DM's running story-arc-based campaigns should keep a journal?  They should!  

Oh, and my game has (I'm guessing) dozens of fans.  It's Piratecat who has thousands.    (Some of my players are a bit freaked out that there are all these people on the web following their characters' exploits, but I think it's neat!)

But enough rambling.  I promised an update, and an update you shall have!

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 184*_

The dragon looks real.  It sounds real.  It _smells_ real.  Wisps of brimstone-scented smoke rise up from scaly nostrils as the beast towers over the courtyard.  At Kibi’s mental command it rears up and glares down at the giant wrestling with Aravis.  Said giant, shaking off the last of the _confusion_, whimpers at the sight of the dragon.  Having already been bludgeoned by Morningstar, whipped by Dranko, bitten by Pewter and grappled by Aravis, this is too much for him.

“I surrender!” he calls out in giantish.  Kibi relays this to the others.  Then, just for fun, Kibi has the dragon get up on its hind legs and crane its neck over the top of the other giant’s prison on the high balcony.  The creature puts its head right up to the opening.

“Aaaaaaahhhhaaaaaiiiieeee!” comments the giant.

The dragon winks at him and pulls its head away.  Then the Company gets down to questioning the un-boxed giant, using Kibi as their spokesdwarf. 

“We don’t want to hurt you or any other giants,” says Kibi.  “But you should answer our questions.”  

He gestures meaningfully toward the illusionary dragon, which turns its head and shows its teeth.

“Why are you guarding this statue?” asks Kibi.

“Cause Eigomic told us to,” answers the Giant.

“Who is Eigomic, and why do you do what he says?”

“Well, he’s the Keeper.  We always do what he says.  He works for the chief, Tegmannic, and he can do magic stuff. He’s in charge of the statue, and he makes sure it stays guarded all the time.”

“Do you know where Eigomic lives?”

“Sure.  It’s about seven blocks from here.  You go out the northern archway, turn left, walk down the road past the smithies and turn right at the barrel-ball field.  His house is down that way, with the boars’ heads mounted on pikes.  Can’t miss it.”

“Do you know why Eigomic always has someone guarding this statue?

“I dunno.  I guess it’s important or something.  Always thought it was kind of ugly, personally.  I mean, why would someone want to make a giant version of those nasty little tundra eyes.”

Hm. 

“What exactly are ‘tundra eyes,’ asks Kibi.  

“Oh, you know.  Pesky little floaty zappers that live out in the wilderness.  They don’t bother us much; don’t like towns and us giants.  They’re kinda like you: really small, but all sorts of magic zappy stuff comes out of ‘em.  They don’t fly too high though, so we can swat ‘em with clubs if we get the chance.  They fly pretty good if you get a good whack.  They’re not usually as big a problem as the big frost boars, or worse, the blood foxes.  Boy, you sure don’t wanna get caught by one of those little blood fox critters.  They’ll eat your insides out.”

“No kidding,” thinks Kay.

But the whole Company groans at hearing this, and Dranko in particular starts to seethe.   Their whole hurried plan was predicated on the idea that the mini-beholders had been sent by whomever was guarding Het Branoi, that they had been spotted, and that the jig might already be approaching up.

“Those were _wandering monsters?_” he thinks, fuming.  “We let ourselves get rushed into a quick assault on the tower because of a _random encounter?_.

“Looks that way,” thinks Grey Wolf.  

“I don’t detect any traps here,” thinks Flicker.  "I’m going to try to pick the lock, using Kibi’s glitter to see.  It’ll take some time.”

The dragon continues to watch the giant for another couple of minutes while Flicker works at the lock.

“Ah ha!” thinks Flicker excitedly.  “I’ve got it figured out.  I just have to wiggle this a little bit and…”

*WHOOOOMPH!*

Flicker is blasted backward in a cone of bright energy that tears skin right off his face and hands.  Blood fountains up around him as he flies some fifteen feet through the air, landing on his back on the courtyard grass.  The clerics rush over to heal him, fearing the worst,  but barely, barely, he is still alive.  Half a minute and several healing spells later he is back on his feet.”

“I think I avoided the worst of it,” says Flicker, his voice trembling.  “If I hadn’t…”

“Don’t think about it,” thinks Step.

“I could try again,” says Flicker, “but I have to see what I’m doing.  The glitter is good, but not good enough.”

“I can cast _true seeing_ on you,” says Morningstar, “but with those Divination Sinks, it won’t do you any good.”

“Mr. Giant,” says Kibi, “We need your help.  We want to finish our business here as soon as possible, and not cause any trouble.  To do that, we need to move one of those big rocks with the blue gems inside.   Aravis here is going to carry you up there.  Just help him move that rock, and there won’t be any trouble, we promise.”

The giant looks skeptical.

The giant looks at the dragon.

The giant helps move the Divination Sink that points at the door and keyhole.

Morningstar casts _true seeing_ on Flicker, who wastes a few seconds oooh-ing and aaaaah-ing at what he sees.

“The tower is loaded with spells,” he says.  “All kinds of ‘em.  I don’t really know what I’m seeing, but it’s impressive.  And the door isn’t really a door.  It’s more like a door-shaped impression in the stone.  It’s only about half an inch deep.”

“Do you see the _keyhole_?” prods Dranko.

“Oh.  Yeah.”

“Do you see magical traps on the keyhole?”

“Maybe.  There are plenty of spells on both the door and the keyhole, but I don’t know what they are.”

“Whatever they are, I’m going to try to _dispel_ them,” says Morningstar.  

But Morningstar isn’t able to remove any of the spells on the tower.  Neither is Ernie, who also tries.

“I’ve got an idea,” pipes up Dranko.  “Hold on a minute…”

He prays to Delioch and channels pure faith into the door of the tower.   It dissipates, finding no receptacle.

“Sorry, Flicker.”

“I’m going to try anyway,” says Flicker.  “First, though, I’m going to see if I can disable the traps on the ‘door.’

For a few long minutes Flicker works gingerly at the door, scraping, tapping, chipping at the edges of magical effects no one else can even see.  Eventually he steps back.

“Did it work?” asks Kay?

“I don’t know,” answers Flicker.  “I don’t see any change in the magic on the tower.  But I can see the keyhole perfectly now.  I should be able to pick it, traps or not.”

“I’ll help you,” says Dranko.  “Just tell me what I can do.”

“I’ll help you too,” says Morningstar.  She casts _shield other_ on him.

Flicker leans in and starts to work.  His fingers move with dexterity and confidence, handling a myriad of thieves’ tools with a deft touch.

“I need light,” he says after a few minutes.  “Right about here, behind me, reasonably bright.”

Morningstar activates the _daylight_ power of her holy shield.

“Ack!  Too bright!  I’m actually looking for sharper shadows, and that washes them _all_ out.”

“Sorry,” mutters Morningstar.  Step fishes out a _continual flame_ coin and holds it up.

“Yeah, that’s good,” says Flicker.  “Now Dranko, do me a favor and hold this pick in place for me…”

For almost ten minutes, Flicker works at the lock on the tower.  The rest of the party looks on, worried, hopeful, curious, as the halfling plies his trade.  Even the giant is fascinated by Flicker’s work.   Sweat borne of intense concentration beads the little rogue’s brow despite the chilly air.  No one speaks aloud what they all fear; that even with Morningstar’s spell in place, another triggered trap could incinerate Flicker.  And no one is more aware of that fact than the halfling himself.

“Almost there,” he says at last.  “Dranko, when I tell you to, I want you to pull the pick you’re holding out, as quickly and as straight-back as you can manage.”

“Got it.”

“And don’t worry… about…”

Flicker stops talking.  A confused expression crosses his face.  Then he smiles wryly to himself.  Only Dranko sees it.

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you later,” says Flicker.  “Now, are you ready?”

“Ready.”

“Ok… on three.   One.   Two.  THREE!”

Dranko yanks out the pick.  Flicker turns his wrist and pushes in with a hooked wire.

*WHOOOOMPH!*

Once again the trap is set off, and Flicker is blown backward by a crushing wave of energy.  Morningstar cries out in pain as the skin is torn from _her_ face and arms, even as the same thing happens to Flicker.  The halfling lands in a heap as Morningstar drops to her knees.  Again the clerics and Step rush to apply healing.   Both are alive, and from the severity of their wounds it is clear that without Morningstar’s _shield other_ spell, Flicker would be naught but a smear on the grass.

“He should probably stop doing that,” comments the giant.  “It looks painful.”

“Shush,’ says Kibi.

“What are you people, exactly?  You’re like little tiny giants, except for _him_.”

He points at Aravis.

“Where did you come from?  And you, giant, why are you helping them?”

“We’re from really far away,” says Kibi.  

“Oh,” says the giant.  “And what about…”

He points at Aravis, frowning.  Then his eyes go wide with shock.

“I know what this is about!” he cries, his voice hardening.  “And I’m not saying anything more.”

Kibi translates for the others.

“What is it?” asks Kibi.  “What’s the problem?  I doubt you really know what’s going on.”

The giant just glares at Aravis.

“He’s not from around here either,” says Kibi.

“He’s from Krizzag, isn’t he!” blurts the giant.

“Where’s that?” asks Kibi.

“I’ll be _he_ knows.  He’s from there!  He’s a spy from Krizzag come to spy on Rikorag.  I’m not talking any more.”

Kibi sighs.  “He’s from a lot farther away than that.  I promise you, none of us are from Krizzag, and we’re not here to spy, or do anything to harm your town.  Our only concern is with that.”

He points at the tower.

“Why are you messing around with the statue in the first place?” asks the Giant.

“To save the universe,” says Kibi.

“Universe?”

“The whole world.”

“Oh.  Well.  Uh, I’m pretty sure you’re in the wrong place.  That’s just a statue of a big monster.  It doesn’t do anything, except I guess it blasts that really little guy.”

“You’re probably right,” says Kibi.  “We should probably just give up and look somewhere else.”

Flicker sits upright, healed of his recent wounds.  Despite his failure he wears a contented smile on his face.  Dranko gives him a curious look for a moment before it dawns on him.

“You heard the waves, didn’t you,” he says to Flicker.

Flicker nods.  “I did what I should have done that first time in Gohgan’s basement,” he says quietly.  “My debt for Mrs. Horn’s life is paid.”

“You did good, Flicker.”

“I guess.  Would have been better if the dang door had actually opened.  Morningstar, you saved my life, as usual.”

“I’m the only one left then,” says Ernie.  “But my promise is kind of open-ended.”

“Er,” interrupts the giant.  “Since I’d rather not see more fighting, I’m going to warn you that the next shift is going to be along in just a few minutes.”

There’s some more hasty discussion over the mind-link.  The general consensus is that the next step is Eigomic.  The Company considers various plans of diplomacy, stealth and violence, weighing pros and cons.  The plan they decide on is this:  most of the party will fly up and out of sight, _wind-walking_, _invisible_ or both.   The giants will be released to report exactly what happened – that a bunch of little people with magic powers were here tampering with the statue.  That should bring Eigomic out to investigate, allowing Dranko the freedom to sneak into his house and search for the tower key, and any passwords that might be necessary for entrance.

“Before you go,” says the giant.  “I’m…er… pretty hurt, from when you guys were beating me up.  I’ve seen you heal the tiny little guy back to health.  Can you give me some of that?”

“Sure!” says Kibi.

“No!” say Aravis and Morningstar at the same time.

“There could still be trouble before the day is out,” says Morningstar.  “I don’t think we can waste out resources on the giant.  Besides, it’s mostly subdual damage; he’ll heal.”

“But we hurt him, and he was just doing his job,” protests Kibi.  “He’s not evil.  He’s been quite helpful, all things considered.  If you won’t heal him, I’m giving him one of my healing potions.”

“That’s even worse,” says Aravis.  “Our potions are non-renewable.  If we’re going to heal him, we should use a spell.”

“I really think it’s a bad idea,” says Morningstar.  “I still say no.”

Grey Wolf nods his head in agreement, but Step shakes his head, clearly siding with Kibi.

“It’s the right thing to do,” says Kibi, obstinate.  “If you won’t heal him, I’m giving him my potion, and that’s that.”

“Fine,” says Morningstar, exasperated.  “Tell the giant to ask me for healing, and I’ll do it.  Better that than you waste your potion.”

She heals the thankful giant, glaring at Kibi as she does so.

“We’re leaving now,” says Kibi.  “You can tell Eigomic everything.  We don’t want you to get into trouble on our account.”

“I hear the other giants coming,” says Dranko.  “Let’s go.”

Kibi picks up the dragon-card from the ground and the huge red monster winks out of existence. The Company flies up, up and away.  Behind them they hear the giant call out to his boxed-in friend, “Hey Korrin, I’m coming up to help you out of there.  You ok?”

“Yeah,” says the trapped giant.  “They tried to trick me into drinking this wine that’s probably poisoned, but I was too smart for ‘em.  We’ve got to go tell Eigomic what happened.”

“Yup. Good idea.”


…to be continued…


----------



## Leareth

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> 
> “Those were wandering monsters?” he thinks, fuming.  “We let ourselves get rushed into a quick assault on the tower because of a random encounter?.
> 
> “Looks that way,” thinks Grey Wolf.
> *




I love this. Sagiro that is just evil. I love everything about this story. I'm going to be giggling like a mad woman for the rest of the night.  Can't wait for more.

Leareth


----------



## Piratecat

Sagiro is a SOB! We were crapping ourselves with worry that they had somehow tracked us down, and it.. was.. a.. _random_.. encounter!

Arrgh!

I wish I had thought of that.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 185*_

While Krag and Korrin tell the next shift about their recent adventure, the Company flies on ahead, high above the giantish city.  Dranko stays a bit lower to get a lay of the land.  He notes right away that the buildings closest to the courtyard and statue are abandoned.  Maybe Eigomic has ordered the area cleared?  Or maybe it’s just giantish superstition?  

Once into the town proper Dranko passes shops, homes, smithies, and a large yard where two dozen giantish children are playing a soccer-like game.  After a few (long) blocks he sees Eigomic’s house – somewhat larger than a typical giantish dwelling, as big as a large human mansion.  It is constructed of wood and stone, with a garden of colorful flowers in bloom despite the cold and snow.  A giantish gardener tends to the lawn, pulling up weeds.

While most of the party settles on a rooftop across from Eigomic’s house, Dranko flies invisibly in through an open second floor window.   The _telepathic bonds_ have recently expired, so the rest of the Company can only pray that Dranko doesn’t get into too much trouble on his own.

Dranko finds himself in an enormous bedroom.   The bed itself is twenty feet long and almost ten feet wide, covered with furs and cushions.  Stout wooden furniture stands along the walls.  A dire warg-skin rug covers the center of the stone floor, and several odd-looking masks adorn the walls. 

He takes a few quick minutes to scour the room for keys but finds none.  He does discover a hidden pile of silver pieces atop a towering wardrobe.  Each piece is the size of a dinner plate, but with work Dranko manages to squeeze one into his _Heward’s wide-mouth pouch._.  Then he moves to the door and listens.  

Satisfied that no one is directly on the other side, he strains against the door and opens it enough to slip through.  He’s in a wide corridor (a narrow hallway for a giant) that extends for fifty more feet, past two more closed doors, before ending at the top of a stairwell.  From the floor below him he hears someone knock outside on the front door.  Quickly and quietly he flies to the stairway and goes down, emerging into a spacious living room.  Eigomic is greeting two flustered giants at the door.

It must be Eigomic.  The “Keeper” is much older than the other giants Dranko has seen, slightly taller and broader at the shoulders.  He is dressed in loose leather covered with furs, one of which (Dranko notes with a mixture of fear and respect) is a blood fox pelt.   His face is adorned with paint and he wears a feathered headpiece, looking every bit the part of the giantish shaman.  Dranko has _comprehend languages_ cast and listens in on the meeting from behind a large shelf.

“Eigomic!” cries one of the two giants.  “You won’t believe what just happened!  Krag and I were…”

The other giant elbows him.

“Oh, right.  Keeper, may I call you Eigomic?”

“Of course!” booms the deep voice of the Keeper.  “Why don’t you two come inside and sit down, and then tell me what this is all about.  Come in.  Sit!”

Eigomic ushers the two young giants into the living room and sits them down on a couch large enough to accommodate the entire Company.  He himself rests is a huge armchair.

“Now,” says Eigomic, smiling.  “Why don’t you start at the beginning.”

“Sure, sure,” says Krag.  “Korrin and me were on duty guardin’ that statue in the courtyard.  We were making our rounds like you always say, going in opposite directions and keeping our eyes out for stuff down below.  Well you know nothin’ ever happens, but this time it did!  All of a sudden there was a big bright flash down by the bottom of the statue, right when me and Korrin were meeting up on our rounds.  We looked down for a few seconds, tryin’ to see what was up, but there wasn’t anything there.”

“Then there was a sound like someone talkin’ and all of a sudden there were stone walls all around me!” says Korrin.  “It must have been magic, it appeared so all-of-a-sudden like.  And it was so small, I couldn’t get any leverage to get out!”

“It didn’t get me though,” says Krag.  “And that’s when I saw this really little guy standin’ down near the statue.  I mean, this guy was tiny.  Smaller than a kid, even.  So I jumped down off the balcony to get ‘im, ‘cause I knew he wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“Yes,” agrees Eigomic.  “And then what happened?”

“I was gonna get that little guy,” continues Krag.  “I could see he had a big beard on his chin.  But before I could get ‘im, another giant came flying over from across the courtyard and tackled me.  We started wrestling.”

“A giant?  Flying?” Eigomic asks.

“Yeah, flying!  They had magic, like I said.  There turned about to be a bunch of the little guys, and magic zappy stuff came out of ‘em, like they were tundra eyes.”

“Say, maybe they _were_ tundra eyes?” suggests Korrin.  “But shaped like little giants.   Like a new spish…a new sheep-sees...”

“Species?” says Eigomic.

“Yeah!  Like that!”

“What happened then?” Eigomic prompts. 

“I finally started getting’ out of that stone trap,” says Korrin, “but when I got my fingers over the lip something stung ‘em real hard and I had to let go.  A few seconds later I got my head up over the top, and another one of those little guys was standin’ there.   He had funny tusky teeth like a boar, and he was holdin’ a… a…  I don’t know, like a long strip of leather.  I think it was the weapon he hit my fingers with.   He shook the weapon at me, lettin’ me know that if I tried climbing out, he’d sting me good.  So I dropped back down inside and started thinking about a clever escape plan.”

“And while he was in there,” Krag jumps in, “I was getting the upper hand with that flying giant,” says Krag.  “I’m a better wrestler than him, and I would’ve beat him in a fair fight.  But while we were fightin’, other little people showed up.  There was this girl who kept hitting me with a spiky thing that really hurt!  And I still might a’ won, except that then all of a sudden there was a really, really huge red lizard!  It had wings, and smoke and fire was comin’ out of its mouth, and it had these… these TEETH that were HUGE!  It glared at me like it was gonna eat me, so I thought quick and said ‘I surrender’ to buy myself some more time.”

Eigomic raises his eyebrows and leans back in his chair.  Dranko suppresses a snicker.  It’s clear to him that Eigomic thinks his two underlings are making at least some of this up.

“No, really!” says Korrin.  “The big lizard poked its head over my stone box, like it was warning me not to try getting out again.”

“So then they asked me some questions, but I didn’t let on about anything important,” says Krag.  “Another little guy – and I mean, this one was even littler than the other little one with the beard – he started pokin’ around at the bottom of the statue.  Then he backed off and the bearded guy did some magicky thing, and the base of the statue and the ground around it got covered with glittery stuff.   The teeny little guy went back and started poking the statue again.  Then all of a sudden there was a big blast sound, and a bright light, and the teeny guy went flying backward and blood went all over.  I figured he was a goner, but some of the other little people rushed over and did some more magicky stuff and healed all his wounds.  It was amazing!”

“Ah, good,” says Eigomic with a smile.  “I’m not at all surprised.  Continue.”

Krag opens his mouth again, turns red, and mumbles something under his breath.

“Come on,” says Eigomic.  “I need to hear what else these small folk did to the… statue.”

“Er.  Well.  After that they said that I’d better help them, or… well, there was that big red lizard, and I knew that if it ate me I couldn’t come back and tell you everything.  So I did what they wanted.”

“And what was that?”

“I…er…well, I helped that other giant to, uh, well, you see, I didn’t really want to, but… I helped him turn one of those big rocks with glowing blue things inside.  We turned it so the blue part was facing into the wall.”

Eigomic’s smile drops from his face like a heap of bricks.  He leans forward and glowers at Krag, who shrinks back in his chair.

“You moved the rock,” Eigomic says through clenched teeth.  

“Yeah.  I uh… um… yeah.  So, after that the teeny little guy went back and poked at the tower some more.  Everyone was crowded around watchin’ him, except the big lizard, which was watchin’ me.  The guy with the tusks was helpin’ him, I think.  Then all of a sudden there was another big flash of light, and the teeny guy got knocked back again.  There was more blood, and the rest of ‘em healed him up again.”

Eigomic’s face unclenches when he hears about Flicker’s second failure.

“I asked ‘em why they cared so much about the statue that they’d keep letting the littlest guy get hurt so much.  The one with the beard said they didn’t want to cause any trouble for us giants.  The just wanted to save the…uh… the… well, they used some fancy word that meant ‘the whole world.’”

“‘Universe,’” says Korrin.  “I heard him say ‘universe.’”

“So,” continues Krag, “I told ‘em, ‘see, they must have the wrong statue.  This one doesn’t have anything to do with the ‘universe.’”  They agreed!  The one with the beard said they must have picked the wrong town, and that they ought to leave.  And they did.  They all just kind of flew straight up and vanished into the sky.  I went and helped Korrin get out of that stone box, and then when the next shift came, we told ‘em what happened and then ran straight here.  And…er…uh, here we are.”

Eigomic sits back in his chair and closes his eyes, while Dranko watches from his hiding place.  Krag and Korrin look nervously at each other, at Eigomic, at their feet.  

“I will go observe the statue myself,” says Eigomic, coming suddenly to his feet.  “I will write down a… no, I’m sure you cannot read.  Listen carefully.  I will list you a dozen names.  You will collect those dozen giants, and instruct them to go to the statue straight away for emergency guard duty.”

He rattles off a dozen giantish names, after which Krag and Korrin can’t get out of there fast enough.  Eigomic follows them out and then walks briskly down the street toward the courtyard, locking the door behind him with a large iron key.  Dranko slips out the upstairs window and rejoins the others on the nearby roof to report.

“A dozen giants?” groans Grey Wolf.  “That’s just great.”

“Hopefully it won’t matter,” says Aravis.  “We don’t want to fight any guards.  Once we get the key, there’s no point in us dallying to fight.”

“I still have some _detect thoughts_ prepared,” says Morningstar.  “I want to try to get Eigomic while he’s checking things out.  Come on.”

The Company, still all either invisible or misty, flies high over the city again and alights on the roof of the courtyard buildings.  As they expect, the first thing Eigomic does is command the two giants on guard to help him push the swiveled Divination Sink back into alignment.  This allows Morningstar, directly above his head on the wooden rooftop, to fire off a _detect thoughts_.

Eigomic resists.

Morningstar tries twice more.  Eigomic resists again, both times.

“Dammit!” thinks Morningstar.  She motions to the others that her spells didn’t work.  (Actually they worked fine on the younger giant.  ‘Boy is this rock heavy,’ he’s thinking.)

Once the Divination Sink is back in place, Eigomic walks down to ground level and stands before the tower.  Five giants come jogging up a few seconds later and the Keeper instructs them to stand close guard around the statue.   Then he fishes out a large glassy lens from his furs, holds it up to his right eye and takes a good long look at the tower.  The Company, hiding up on a nearby rooftop, ducks down low in case Eigomic suddenly turns to look in their direction.    For a couple of minutes the Keeper looks only at the tower, up and down, peering through the lens.  Evidently he is satisfied.  He puts the lens back in his pocket and turns to the fourteen giants now assembled in the courtyard.  

“You are all officially placed on statue guard duty.  I want you down here, ground level.  This shift will last eight hours, after which you will be relieved by a new group.”

The giants start grumbling but are quickly cowed to silence by a venomous look from the Keeper. 

Leaving the new tower guard, Eigomic strides purposefully out of the courtyard and down the streets toward his home.  The Mostly Invisible Flying Wind Brigade follows at height.  Step, peering intently down, whispers to the others:   “He’s evil.”

To the Company’s surprise Eigomic walks _past_ his house and continues into the center of town, where he eventually stops at the door a large stone building guarded by military-looking giants.  They open the door for him, and close it behind him.

Dranko looks for a chimney on the building; while human chimneys are too small for a half-orc to traverse, giantish ones make for easy “secret entrances.”  The problem is, the chimney on this new building has smoke coming out of it.  Undeterred, Dranko casts _protection from elements: fire_ on himself, tells the others “I’ll be back soon” and flies over to the roof of the building.  The rest of the party takes up a waiting position on a different nearby roof.

“What should we do while he’s in there?” asks Flicker. 

“Listen for screams,” says Aravis with a sigh, “and count the ways things could go wrong.”

...to be continued...


----------



## coyote6

Ah, c'mon. Something go wrong on a Dranko scouting mission? Inconceivable!

So did you go through the whole giant briefing at the table?


----------



## Sagiro

coyote6 said:
			
		

> *Ah, c'mon. Something go wrong on a Dranko scouting mission? Inconceivable!
> 
> So did you go through the whole giant briefing at the table? *



I'm afraid that, yes,  I really did make my players listen to three NPC's talk to each other for 5-10 minutes.  I can only hope they were more amused than bored.

-Sagiro


----------



## el-remmen

Woo-Hoo! 

Another update. . . You go Sagiro. . . !   You must be of some advanced "sheep-sees" of DM.


----------



## emergent

Wow!  Sagiro update-o-rama!  Good thing I have nothing to do at work today!

And, I don't know about your players, but I really enjoyed the giant conversation.  Did you use three different giant-voices?


----------



## Galfridus

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Dranko has comprehend languages cast and listens in on the meeting from behind a large shelf.*




Don't you have to touch the target of a _Comprehend Languages_?


----------



## Sagiro

Galfridus said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Don't you have to touch the target of a Comprehend Languages? *



We, uh, apparently have a house rule that says you don't.  

-Sagiro


----------



## coyote6

I think Galfridus is the one with the house rule. 

The Target for _comprehend languages_ is "The Character"; Range: Personal. Assuming Dranko cast the spell, there's nothing wrong.

PS: the giants' report was hilarious.


----------



## Sagiro

coyote6 said:
			
		

> *I think Galfridus is the one with the house rule.
> 
> The Target for comprehend languages is "The Character"; Range: Personal. Assuming Dranko cast the spell, there's nothing wrong.
> 
> PS: the giants' report was hilarious. *



See, that's the same mistake I made.  But if you read the text of the spell description (at least, in the SRD), it says you have to touch the creature whose language you're comprehending.

Glad you liked the giants!  I love acting out characters like that.  

-Sagiro


----------



## Geoff Watson

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 185
> 
> This allows Morningstar, directly above his head on the wooden rooftop, to fire off a detect thoughts.
> 
> Eigomic resists.
> 
> Morningstar tries twice more.  Eigomic resists again, both times.
> 
> *




Why didn't Eigomic do anything when the spells were cast on him?

Geoff.


----------



## Sagiro

Geoff Watson said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Why didn't Eigomic do anything when the spells were cast on him?
> 
> Geoff. *




Because he didn't know that they were cast.   Because they were _silent_.  Which I guess I should have mentioned.

-Sagiro


----------



## shilsen

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Because he didn't know that they were cast.   Because they were silent.  Which I guess I should have mentioned.
> 
> -Sagiro *




I think what Geoff Watson may have meant is that a creature saving against a spell (as Eigomic did) would realize that a spell had been attempted against it (PHB pg.150).


----------



## Sagiro

shilsen said:
			
		

> *
> 
> I think what Geoff Watson may have meant is that a creature saving against a spell (as Eigomic did) would realize that a spell had been attempted against it (PHB pg.150). *



Huh.  My knowledge of the rules has clearly eroded significantly over the years.   Didn't even occur to me. 

I'm forced to wonder which of these is true:

a) I make significantly more rules gaffes than other story-hour writers
b) other writers get picked on just as much as I do for rules violations, but I haven't noticed
c) I'm blessed with a particularly nitpi...er, discerning audience.  

-Sagiro

p.s. If it makes you feel better, had Eigomic realized someone was casting on him, he would have looked around suspiciously, seen nothing, and then more-or-less done exactly what he did anyway.  As you'll see when I next post...

p.p.s.  ...which I fear to do, wondering what new rules ignorance I'm about to reveal!


----------



## Destil

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *p.p.s.  ...which I fear to do, wondering what new rules ignorance I'm about to reveal!   *



What, you mean aside from an antimagic field only supressing *access* to extra/non dimentianl spaces (and thus the tundra eyes wouldn't have had the group tumbling out of their _rope tricks_)... 

I only tease because I'm in general awe of the story, and the true evilness of that random encounter.  

 And because I wish I had thought of that, too...


----------



## el-remmen

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> I'm forced to wonder which of these is true:
> 
> a) I make significantly more rules gaffes than other story-hour writers
> b) other writers get picked on just as much as I do for rules violations, but I haven't noticed
> c) I'm blessed with a particularly nitpi...er, discerning audience.
> 
> *




At least they notice yours. . .  Mine either go under their radar, or I have established my reputation as a not very rules-oriented DM and they don't bother to mention it. . . because I _do_ make quite a bit of not only rules/spells mistakes, but problems with some internal consistancy. . .  but when you do that there fancy writin' like I do  it is easier to hide the latter


----------



## Sagiro

I must really be in a slump.

Here I am, in the midst of writing up the last session I ran, which I'm more-or-less transcribing from audio tape.    There's (and I'm sure this comes as a shock) a combat with some giants.  Thanks to the tape I'm able to go turn by turn through the combat and not miss important stuff.

Hm.  That's odd.   Why haven't the giants gone yet?

<click>  <rewind>  <playback>

Ok... Aravis goes... yes, then Step... mm hm... then Ernie... ok, now its should be the giants turn... 

[Sagiro listens in horror to the tape]

Surely I missed something.

<click>  <rewind>  <playback>

[Sagiro buries head in hands]

It's clear what happened.  I use index cards to keep track of the initiative order.  When a combatant goes, I put their card on the bottom of the pile and read off the new name on top to go next.  Works like a charm.

Aravis has readied a _fireball_ for when the giants go.  

The index card saying "giant" comes to top.   "The giants advance!" I say, putting their card on the bottom.

"Wait!" says Aravis's player.  "My readied action goes off."

We spend some time rolling dice, making saving throws, decrementing hit points, etc.  I put the Aravis card on the bottom of the pile.

I look down at the card on top.  It's Dranko's card, so I instinctively say "Dranko, you're up."  Combat continues.

I'm sure you note the omission.  If any of my players noticed it, they sure didn't say anything.  

And here all this time I thought my campaign's low mortality rate was due to my players being clever, plus all the clerics and the paladin and the _wands of cure serious wounds_.  It turns out, my monsters don't get to go!

Someone should revoke my license or something.   

-Sagiro


----------



## el-remmen

Oh, don;t be so hard on yourself, Sagiro, old chum. . .

I'm sure if we had recordings of our games we'd all find gaffs - I occasionally come across them in the round for round notes one of my player's keeps for me for the sake of the story hour (very helpful - thanks helene!).

As for your error - well, that's why I use a dry erase board. . .


----------



## StevenAC

Sagiro said:
			
		

> And here all this time I thought my campaign's low mortality rate was due to my players being clever, plus all the clerics and the paladin and the wands of cure serious wounds. It turns out, my monsters don't get to go!
> 
> Someone should revoke my license or something.




Heh.  I use initiative cards too, and they're helpful but certainly not foolproof, what with my players' propensity for delayed and readied actions galore.

I usually wait until the end of a character's action before I move their card to the back of the pack.  If they decide to delay or ready, I take the card out of the pack and put it aside.  Then, when they finally act, I just pick up their card and put it back on top.

As for rules violations, don't get me started...    My first "buries head in hands" moment happened in the second or third session I ran, in _The Sunless Citadel_.  The party comes across the little white dragon and (as usual) rushes straight into combat.  Barely a round later, the thing is neatly subdued and tied up into a neat package ready for transport back to the kobolds.  Didn't have the slightest chance to do anything.

As I'm driving home afterwards, I realise things would probably have gone rather differently if I'd remembered that all dragons are immune to _sleep_...


----------



## Fajitas

I use index cards, too, which has actually led to me accidentally skipping PCs from time to time.  Funny enough, they're always very good about letting me know when I do that.  Skipping baddies, that's harder to get them to double check for me.


----------



## Piratecat

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> I look down at the card on top.  It's Dranko's card, so I instinctively say "Dranko, you're up."  Combat continues.
> *




Gee, would that be the round that my fellow party members tried to kill me, or perhaps the round that my fellow party members tried to kill me?  

I missed the game under discussion, only the second or third in 7 years, and my fellow players apparently tried to get out their hostilities by -- well, you'll see.  But let's just say Dranko went from something like 136 hit points to around -8 in the space of one or two rounds. 

That wouldn't be so bad if he had ever gotten hit by a stinkin' giant....


----------



## Sagiro

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Gee, would that be the round that my fellow party members tried to kill me, or perhaps the round that my fellow party members tried to kill me?
> 
> I missed the game under discussion, only the second or third in 7 years, and my fellow players apparently tried to get out their hostilities by -- well, you'll see.  But let's just say Dranko went from something like 136 hit points to around -8 in the space of one or two rounds.
> 
> That wouldn't be so bad if he had ever gotten hit by a stinkin' giant....   *



No, that little... incident... occurred near the end of the battle.  (At least, it's the last thing Dranko remembers!  )  

I'm about 3 or 4 updates away from that "unfortunate accident."

-Sagiro


----------



## Caliber

You think you have it bad! I have a Cohort in the party I DM, so when XP is handed out, I divide the total by 17 (8 characters and 1 cohort) then give everyone 2 shares except the cohort.

Except, I forgot that a few months ago and only divided by 9 before handing out 2 shares per person.

They were all getting +100% XP! 

No wonder a group of 8 characters STILL managed to keep up with the suggested levels of a 4 character party ...


----------



## dpdx

Ooh! This is one of those mad-libs, innit?! Can I play?



			
				Piratecat said:
			
		

> *I missed the game under discussion, only the second or third in 7 years, and my fellow players apparently tried to get out their hostilities by -- borrowing Nolin's ring of incontinence from the other campaign and dehydrating me to death.*


----------



## coyote6

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Hm.  That's odd.   Why haven't the giants gone yet?
> *




Oh, you have no idea how many times I've done that.

I turn the cards of readying/delaying people sideways, so they stick out and hopefully Clue Me In to do something with 'em. But I still forget ("Oops, he was supposed to try to interrupt the spellcaster. Dammit!"). Or when I divide the attacking (say) orcs into more than one group for initiative -- I'll forget and have them all go at once, or I'll forget to have one group go at all. Gah.

The other GM in our group sometimes turns the cards over as he goes through; end of the deck, flip it over & continue. However, when dealing with an interruption (readied actions, etc.), he has, once or twice, gone back and started going through the "discard pile". Meaning he ends up going through the initiative in reverse.

I get dirty looks from other players for reminding the GM, "Hey, the evil wizard didn't go." 

As for _comprehend languages_ -- uh, wow. Does it say that in the PH? Boy, have we messed that one up . . .


----------



## Galfridus

Yeah, it's in the PHB and the SRD. I only know because a player wanted a _Helm of Comprehend Languages and Read Magic_, and I wondered why it was so darn cheap. 

IMO there's design space for a 2nd level "listen only, at range" spell, between _comprehend languages_ and _tongues_.


----------



## Sagiro

It's comforting to know I'm not the only one whose DM-ing is less than foolproof.   

Short update tonight:

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 186*_

Amazingly enough, nothing goes wrong!

The chimney is smokey and full of rising soot and embers.  Dranko floats down toward the fireplace, hoping to catch sounds of Eigomic talking, but all he hears is the roar of the fire.  He’s about to just fly out and past the fire (and into the room) when he realizes that all the soot will render his _invisibility_ rather moot.  So just before exiting the chimney Dranko casts a _clean_ orison himself, counting on the roaring flames to drown out the sound of his casting.  The fire flutters for a moment as Dranko flies into the room but none of the giants in the place are looking that way.

The room into which Dranko emerges is huge.  Almost two dozen giants are there, some of them sparring, some of them sitting at tables, talking and drinking.  Racks of giant-sized weapons stand propped up against the walls.  He’s in the commons of a barracks!  Dranko is not in time to hear what Eigomic is saying to a trio of other giants, but it’s soon clear what’s going on. 

The Keeper is obtaining bodyguards.

When Eigomic leaves the building he has half a dozen strong club-wielding giants in tow.  Dranko surreptitiously follows them out the door.  He hardly needs to report what he saw; the others can plainly see Eigomic leave the building surrounded by six guards.   The troop of them goes back to Eigomic’s house.

“Our situation has not improved,” notes Step dourly.  “Now not only do they have twelve guards at the tower, but Eigomic, who probably has the key, has guards of his own.  What do we do now?”

They cogitate for a few minutes, half-heartedly making plans that won’t work.

“Wait,” says Ernie, brightening.  “Morningstar, you still have some unused spell slots, right?  You should fill one with _locate object_.  We can find the key with magic.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” explains Dranko.  “We’ve never seen the key.  That spell will just find the nearest key to the caster.”

“True,” says Ernie, grinning.  “But how many keys in this giantish city do you think fit into human-sized keyholes? Moriningstar can locate ‘the nearest human-sized key.’  That should at least verify where it is.”

Everyone marvels at Ernie’s cleverness while Morningstar prays for the spell.   She casts, and at once there is in her mind an unerring sense of the direction of the object in question.   It’s pointing downward and toward Eigomic’s house, as expected.  For a few moments she waits, sensing.  The location does not waver by a single sliver of a degree.

“It’s not moving,” she says.  “So either Eigomic has been sedentary, or the key is stored somewhere not on his person.”

She thinks for another minute.  Morningstar knows the location of the key.  She’s invisible and _wind walking_…

“I’m going to scout,” she says.  “I know I’m not normally the stealthy one, but it’s got to be me right now.”

The others agree.  Morningstar goes back into vaporous form, flies to Eigomic’s house, and wafts in under the door.  The living room is empty but giantish voices sound from upstairs.  She concentrates for a moment on the location of the human-sized key.  To her surprise the direction is still generally downward, even though she’s floating at ground level.

“Must be in a basement somewhere,” she thinks.  The location is also farther back in the house, so she chooses one of two likely doors at random and explores.  She finds herself in a giant-sized kitchen, with enormous plates, jugs, pots and pans, and flagons so large Flicker could easily take a bath in one.

“The Giant Flagon,” she thinks to herself.  “If we ever retire and open an inn, that would be a good name.  Maybe we can steal one of these mugs as a centerpiece.  Hm.  I’m starting to think like Dranko.”

In fact, the whole experience is giving her some new insight into her fiancée’s adventuring angle.  It’s always one of the rogues who does this sort of reconnoitering.  Sneaking around undetected, looking for clues and information – this is new to Morningstar.  She finds it oddly exhilarating.  

She hears the sounds of giants thumping down the stairs, and since there are no staircases leading downward from the kitchen, she flits back into the living room and then under the second door.  

It’s a small den.  Well, ok, it’s a huge den, forty feet on a side, but for a giant it must be small and cozy.   There are furs on the wood-paneled floor, including a huge bearskin run in the center.  At one end is a writing desk and chair. Ornamental masks and furs decorate the walls, including another blood-fox pelt.   She moves into the center of the room, the spell updating the direction of the key.  

When she stands directly over the bearskin rug, the direction is very nearly straight down.

Morningstar settles her vaporous body into one of the long grooves between the floor’s wooden slats.  She inches along, sliding under the bearskin.  Before too long she discovers another groove in the wood running perpendicular to hers.  

“Trap door,” she thinks.  For a moment she contemplates pouring through the crack into whatever space is below, but doesn’t want to risk setting off any traps or alarms.  Morningstar retreats from under the rug, slips back under the door and into the living room.   Eigomic is there with all six of his new bodyguards.  They can’t see her!  

And just in case it hasn’t been evident enough that Dranko is rubbing off on her, Morningstar raises her misty hands to her head, touches her thumbs to her ears, and waggles her fingers at the giants.  Absurdly pleased, she scoots under the front door and out into the street.   Moments later she has re-solidified and reported to the others.  

The Company retreats to the abandoned neighborhood near the tower courtyard, and after Kay confirms that no one has been inside one of the houses for weeks if not months, Aravis sets up a pair of _rope tricks_ for the night.  They assume that no tundra eyes will bother them here inside the giantish city.   Before going to bed they formulate a plan, which involves luring Eigomic (and his retinue, ideally) out of his house, after which they will storm his house, get through the trap door, grab the key, fly to the tower, possibly wall off the giants who stand guard there, and get inside the tower that they all assume must be Het Branoi.

Should be a piece of cake.

…to be continued…


----------



## thatdarncat

lmao

too cool 

Shouldn't you be at piratecat's gaming?


----------



## LightPhoenix

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *...and get inside the tower that they all assume must be Het Branoi.
> 
> Should be a piece of cake.
> 
> …to be continued… *




"Assume?"

Foreshadowing?


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 187*_

Aravis pokes his head out of the extra-dimensional space the next morning and hears the sound of steady sleet drumming on the rooftops.  

“Bother,” he thinks.  

The Company eats a cold breakfast and reviews the plan of attack.   Figuring that a bit more guidance couldn’t hurt, Ernie casts _divination_.  There is a debate on what the exact question should be; is it more important to ask about their scheme to regain the key, or to learn if the key is what they need in the first place?  But the party is pretty sure about that second part, and the first question is more apropos for the spell in question.  So Ernie casts his spell, clears his throat, and asks:

*“Yondalla, if you wouldn’t mind, could you please let us know if we will be successful in our plan to obtain the key?”*

There is no response.  Ernie is about to announce that his entreaty failed when he hears a voice in his mind.   It sounds like it is coming from a long way off, a tinny, echo-y voice much different than what he has heard in the past when casting _augury._  The voice says:

*Mind the guards.  Mind the alarm.  Mind the subterfuge.*

“The first two parts seem clear enough,” says Morningstar.  “I wonder what the subterfuge is?”

They talk about that for a bit.  Maybe it simply refers to the trapdoor?  Maybe the trapdoor is itself trapped?  Or the key is trapped somehow?   At Dranko’s suggestion Flicker draws a picture of what he expects the business-end of the key will look like, based on his close examination of the keyhole.

Once everyone is packed up and ready to go, the Company casts a battery of prep spells.  Ability scores are buffed up, _invisibility_, _fly_, _telepathic bond_ and _wind walk_ spells are liberally applied, and Aravis includes everyone in a _mass darkvision_ for good measure.

“This is it,” says Dranko.  “Let’s go.”

Kay executes the first part of the plan.  She borrows Kibi’s _deck of illusions_, flies high over the statue courtyard, and lets the top card flutter down through the sleet.  Twelve bored and utterly miserable-looking giants are standing around the tower, shivering and drenched.  

The appearance of a huge two-headed ettin cures them quickly of their boredom if not the dampness.  Immediately the closest giants move to attack it.  Kay directs it to run away as fast as possible, postponing the moment when the giants will figure out it’s an illusion.  After a few seconds of chase one of the giants yells something out and then bolts from the courtyard toward Eigomic’s house.

Phase One successful!

The Company flies high above the running giant, shadowing his progress through the streets.  A couple of times he slips and falls on the icy ground, but before too long he is pounding on Eigomic’s door.  Moments later he is admitted inside.  

This is the part of the plan on which everything depends.  Will Eigomic take the bait?  A minute passes and no one emerges from the house.  Then two.  But before the third minute is up Eigomic emerges from his home with four bodyguards, plus the runner who delivered the warning about the ettin.  Two of the guards are holding a large animal skin stretched over the Keeper’s head, shielding him from the needles of sleet.

“What a wimp,” thinks Dranko, watching the giants jog down the street toward the tower.

Phase Two successful!

“There are still two guards in the house,” notes Grey Wolf.  “We should be ready.”

Kay, Step and Snokas take up lookout positions on the roof, ready to alert the others via _telepathic bond_ if anyone comes back to the house.  Kibi casts _locate object_, specifying “the closest key that looks like Flicker’s drawing.”  He senses the direction at once; it’s in the same place Morningstar thought it was yesterday.   Aravis casts _gaseous form_ on Kibi (a part of the plan to which Scree strongly objected), and then on himself.  Now everyone who’s going in is in mist-form.  Collectively they stream under Eigomic’s front door and into the living room.  There is no sign of the other two giants.

Kibi, both invisible and gaseous, goes first into the den with the trap-door.  He pulls up sharply at the sight of two giants, one standing nervously, the other enjoying the Keeper’s comfy chair.  Over the mind-link Kibi warns the others, and they have a short impromptu planning session.

“There’s only two of them,” says Ernie.  “We can take ‘em.”

“There will only be five of us,” says Morningstar.  “Aravis and Kibi should stay gaseous.  That leaves Flicker, Ernie, Dranko, Grey Wolf and me.”

“You forget,” says Flicker, grinning.  “I’m a giant-killing machine.  Let me at ‘em!”

It’s settled.  When everyone is ready (and solid), Ernie fills himself with the _Strength of Yondalla_ and charges into the door.  Despite his own small size and the great mass of the wooden door, his strength is enough.  The door swings open, and the Company pours in.

The poor giants never have a chance.   Flicker is first in, slashing at the standing giant’s vulnerable tendons and arteries with his giant-killing shortsword.  Dranko follows quickly afterward, snapping his whip into the giant’s face.  Morningstar fires off a _searing darkness_ into the giant’s neck.   Only Grey Wolf fails to damage the target; he attempts to peg the giant with an _ice knife_ but the spell goes wide, shattering harmlessly against the back wall of the room.  

So quick and efficient is the assault, the giants hardly even seem to know what’s going on before the next wave of attacks is launched.  Ernie, with no way to reach the standing giant, charges across the room and hacks the knees of the giant in the armchair.  Flicker and Dranko finish off the first giant in short order, delivering brutal sneak attacks.  

Only after the first giant is slain does the second even swing his club, but when he does, it jars every bone in Ernie’s body, denting his armor and leaving him reeling.   Flicker then tumbles nimbly into a flanking position and shears through the giant’s calf muscle with his short sword.   Less than ten seconds later it is over; whips, swords, _searing darknesses_ and a final crossbow bolt from Grey Wolf leaving the giant bleeding and unconscious.  Never having even gotten a chance to move, its body slumps back into the chair.

Feeling a surge of remorse Dranko uses an orison to heal a single point of damage to the second giant.  Unfortunately this brings the giant back to borderline awareness.   Dranko rolls his eyes, mutters something about good deeds not going unpunished, and clubs the blinking giant with a sap.  

Morningstar checks with Kay via the _telepathic bond_.  

“Any sign of Eigomic coming back?”

“Nope.  Visibility’s pretty lousy in this sleet, but you’re fine for now.”

The party drags the bearskin rug off of the trapdoor.

“Mind the alarm,” says Ernie.

Dranko casts _detect magic_ and gets a positive around the trapdoor, but he doesn’t have the spellcraft to discern its nature.  Grey Wolf casts the same spell and has no such difficulty.

“It’s an alarm spell all right, though there’s no way to know if it’s the kind that sounds out loud, or in the caster’s head.  It’s must be centered in a space about twenty feet below the floor.  We’re in luck, though.  It covers _almost_ the same width as this whole room, but not the very corners.  If the room below us is at least the same size as this one, there will be some space one can stand without setting off the alarm.”

“Unless that’s the subterfuge,” says Flicker.  “And how can we find out anything about what’s down there?  If we open the trapdoor, the alarm will go off.”

First things first.  Ernie tries _dispelling_ the _alarm_, but fails.  Morningstar also tries, but she too fails to overcome the magic around the trapdoor.

Aravis drops the _gaseous form_ on himself and Kibi.

“Looks like we’ll have to do it the hard way,” he says, holding up his _staff of earth and stone_.  The green gem that caps the staff glows brightly as Aravis casts _passwall_ through the floor at the corner of the room.  He peers down into the hole he has made.  Below the den is what looks like a storeroom.  He can see barrels, crates, sacks, planks, buckets and other junk stacked the corner.  It appears that the storeroom is the same dimensions as the den.

“Which means someone can go down there and look around,” says Grey Wolf, “as long as they stay in the corner.  If anyone takes even two steps out into that room, the alarm will go off.”

Dranko ties off a rope around a giantish desk and lowers himself down into the storeroom.  The whole place, forty feet on a side, is filled with innocuous looking junk, except for one feature.   About ten feet out from one of the far walls is an enormous iron trunk with a thick metal lock.  A check with Kibi’s sense from the _locate object_ spell confirms that the key is in that trunk.

“Kay?” thinks Morningstar.

“You’re still good,” says Kay over the mind link.  “Still no sign of Eigomic.  But he must have realized the ettin is just an illusion by now.  Don’t dawdle.”

It takes a couple of tries, but Dranko manages to toss a grappling hook across the room and snag the iron trunk.  They run the rope up through the hole left by the _passwall_ and they all heave.   It doesn’t budge; it’s too heavy.

“We need a new plan,” says Morningstar, “and quickly.”

It only takes them a minute to devise a new strategy.  With misgivings about burning charges, Aravis uses his staff to cast another _passwall_ into the floor of the den, directly above the trunk.   Then he casts _knock_ on the trunk’s large iron lock.  Ping!  It pops open.

Grey Wolf casts _mage hand_ and guides the grappling hook down to the trunk, securing it onto the lid.  They pull the rope and the lid swings up and open.  Twang!  Some small metal object flies out of the trunk, directly through the place where someone would be standing were they opening the trunk by (non-magical) hand.  Inside the trunk is a large silk cushion, and on that cushion is a key!

And not just any key.  It’s made of crystal, and the bow is a black circle.  More importantly, the key is sized for a human lock.  Grey Wolf examines it with his _detect magic_ and finds that it radiates strong enchantment magic.  Using another _mage hand_, Aravis lifts the cushion (since the spell doesn’t affect magical things) and brings the key out of the storeroom.  Success?

Not yet.  There are two problems.  First, Flicker examines the key and decides in about ten seconds that it’s not the right one.   

“It’s a good fake,” he says.  “The post is the right length, and it’s got ward cuts on the bit.  But the depths of the bit’s side-cuts aren’t right.  This key wouldn’t open the lock I was looking at on the tower, I’m sure of it.”

“He’s right,” says Kibi.  “I know, because my _locate object_ says the key is still in the trunk.”

He and Dranko peer down with their darkvision.  With the cushion removed, the trunk looks empty.  

“We need to get that trunk up here,” says Dranko.

“I’ve got one more _mage hand_,” says Aravis.  “I can get the grappling hook lodged in the underside of the lid.”

“It’ll still be too heavy to lift,” Flicker objects.

“I’ll also use a charge from my _wand of levitate_,” says Aravis.  “The magic’s not strong enough to lift the trunk either, but between it and all of us pulling we might have a chance, as long as the hinges hold out.”

Using his magic Aravis sticks the hook into the underside of the trunk’s lid, pleased that it finds purchase quite easily.  Then he casts _levitate_ and everyone heaves again.

The trunk tips slightly as its lid becomes centered above it.  Slowly the huge iron box rises off the floor…an inch… two inches…

Crack!  The hook pulls out of the lid with a sound like…splintering wood?  The trunk crashes back to the stone floor and wooden fragments shower down around it.   Clearly mixed with the other sounds is that of a small metal object clattering on stone.

There is a second of confused silence.  Dranko peers down again. 

Ah!  There was hidden space inside the lid, the underside of which was wood but painted to look like iron.  The stress from the grappling hook tore the wood away and a key flew out of the hidden compartment.  He can see it on the floor amid the pieces of wood.

“Mind the subterfuge,” he says, grinning.  

“And mind the giants,” warns Kay over the mindlink.  “Eigomic’s just turned the corner down the street.  He’s got a bunch of giants with him… maybe eight.”

“Allow me,” says Aravis.  He _levitates_ the key up from the storeroom and hands it to Flicker.  Grey Wolf sees that it radiates strong magic – some enchantment, some abjuration, some evocation, and strands of magic of a type he doesn’t even recognize.

“Whoa,” he says.  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“My _locate object_ agrees,” says Kibi.

“Time to leave,” urges Morningstar.  

And they do.  With moments to spare the Company takes flight through a side window, with flying people carrying invisible people where necessary.   While Eigomic and his entourage jog down the street to the house, the Company is flying the other way high above.   A minute later they arrive at the huge beholder statue.  

There are still obstacles, of course.  Eight of them.  And they’re all wielding really, really big clubs.

…to be continued…


----------



## Zustiur

When I first read the line "mind the subterfuge" I was worried.
Turns out it was just a hidden compartment. Phew 

I was certainly more worried than the party sounded...



> They talk about that for a bit. Maybe it simply refers to the trapdoor? Maybe the trapdoor is itself trapped? Or the key is trapped somehow?




I read that and was thinking, "No no no no! That's not what subterfuge means! Gotta be something more annoying"

Zustiur.

Can't believe no one posted before me.


----------



## LightPhoenix

Zustiur said:
			
		

> *
> Can't believe no one posted before me. *




Heh, I was worried that I had turned my mad thread-killer powers against Sagiro's storyhour.


----------



## Caliber

Sagiro's thread is always pretty quiet in comparison to its large amount of popularity.

I expected something like what happened when the party was warned of subterfuge. Good thing Kibi had a Locate Object going.


----------



## target

Caliber said:
			
		

> *I expected something like what happened when the party was warned of subterfuge. Good thing Kibi had a Locate Object going. *




Huh.  I expected that they would find that the tower itself was a subterfuge, and that Het Branoi is not actually inside, or not what they need.  Which I guess is still possible, but the hidden key seemed to fit the description well.

On another note, I'm feeling totally spoiled by the rapidfire updates.  This thread is putting Pkitty's to shame.  

- target


----------



## Zaruthustran

Bravo to the Company for another team effort! And bravo to Sagiro for that cool, Mission Impossible-esque scenario.

-z


----------



## LightPhoenix

target said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Huh.  I expected that they would find that the tower itself was a subterfuge, and that Het Branoi is not actually inside, or not what they need.  Which I guess is still possible, but the hidden key seemed to fit the description well.*




Yeah, I'm not convinced that the statue is actually Het Branoi either.

Question for Sagiro:  How high was the statue illusion, and the tower?


----------



## Number47

I was thinking that the subterfuge involved Eigomic. I have been thinking that maybe he isn't one of the giants, not really.


----------



## Nail

Number47 said:
			
		

> *I was thinking that the subterfuge involved Eigomic. I have been thinking that maybe he isn't one of the giants, not really. *



Right, that's what I was thinking.

And the tower's gotta be pretty short, to fit inside a statue.

Finally: Doesn't this all feel like the beginning of a long journey into some extra dimensional space, a la that "city in a bottle" we saw a while back?

The statue looks like an extradimensional portal, to me.


----------



## Sagiro

To address recent questions and supposition:

The illusionary beholder statue sits atop an enormous illusionary base, a huge rectangular* block of stone slightly over 10' on a side and a bit over 30' tall.  The beholder itself is over ten feet in diameter.  

The hidden tower is round, 10' in diameter and 30' high.  Thus, it fits snugly within the the illusionary block, with the beholder sitting atop both the base and the tower.

As for the interior of the tower, the Company has information from a sage in Djaw that all of the Hets were larger on the inside than on the outside.  ("Dimensionally transcendental," for you Dr. Who fans.  )  It's certainly a possibility that it's an extradimensional space (a la _rope trick_) of some kind.

-Sagiro

* It's actually a frustum, being slightly larger at the base than at the top.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *It's actually a frustum*




Frustum?  I just met him!

[Thank you, I'll be here all week.]


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 188*_

_[Here begins the first session captured on audio tape and transcribed directly.  The dialogue you read here is 99% authentic, with only the mildest of cosmetic touch-up.]_

----

Where giantish guards and clever decoys did not deter them, the Company is temporarily overcome by an unusual opposing force:  indecision.  They land on the roof of the courtyard buildings for a what-do-we-do-now debate.  The topic at hand is whether or not to storm the tower now, or wait until tomorrow when they’ll have more spells available.

“We have no idea what’s on the other side of that door, and we have no _dispelling_ magic left,” argues Morningstar.

“We have healing at least,” says Kibi.  “What are we down?”

“_Flies, invisibilities and wind walks_,” says Morningstar, “plus some attack spells, and our _dispels_.”

 “If we wait until tomorrow,” points out Flicker, “they could have a lot more in place to guard the tower.”

“And we’ll have cast all our spells again anyway,” says Aravis, siding with Flicker.  “We have a better chance of getting through with very little injury if we just go now.”

“Do we have any _auguries_?” asks Kibi.

Ernie and Dranko answer in the negative.

“We know the Black Circle does sneaky, trappy, more thought-y-related stuff,” says Morningstar.

“But they _are_ susceptible to _blade barrier_ quips Ernie.  “Everyone is.”

“I don’t have that either,” sighs Morningstar.

“It’s going to take a lot of boom, and some guile, to get around what’s surrounding the tower right now,” says Grey Wolf, motioning to the eight giants on the ground.

“We’re invisible, and they can’t detect us ‘cause of the Divination Sinks,” says Ernie.

“I’ve got a lot of spells left,” says Kibi.

“Me too,” says Aravis.  “Well, except for _mage hands._”

Morningstar refuses to back down.

“We have no way to get rid of traps, and we know that the Black Circle likes them...a lot.”

“In the Black Circle’s laboratory, all of the traps were disarmed or set off by Flicker,” says Aravis.

“Don’t remind me,” mutters Flicker.

“Sorry.”

“I’m actually thinking of the Bestiary,” says Morningstar.  Then, under her breath:  “I _dispelled_ that one.  Maybe it was cursed… it’s the last thing I remember _dispelling_ successfully.”

The sleet continues to come down hard and cold.  Those of the Company not wind-walking are getting soaked through.   The giants look even more miserable, water dripping down their hair and faces, their slumped shoulders, some making a token effort to look around and be attentive.  Whatever excitement the illusionary ettin might have incited has worn off completely.

“We could try taking out Eigomic tonight, without going for the tower,” says Kibi.  “He’s probably discovering right about now that the key’s gone.”

“If we just go now, we know we won’t have to face him,” says Ernie.  But to himself he continues, “On the other hand, if we go in the morning, he might not come himself, and then we can get through the door just as fast.”

“The question is,” says Kibi, “does Eigomic have some way of communicating with whoever’s inside the tower?”

“I really feel strongly about waiting,” says Morningstar.

“I want to go,” says Dranko impatiently.

“I think I want to wait,” answers Ernie.  While they bicker, Ernie comes out mist-form long enough to heal himself and get thoroughly drenched, and then returns to his gaseous state.

“If we wait, we may have to use even more resources that we already have today, just to reach the point we’re at now,” says Aravis.

As is their custom when things reach an impasse, the Company has a vote.  Snokas and Kay, like Morningstar, want to wait until tomorrow. Ernie and Grey Wolf are on the fence but tend to agree with Morningstar.   Flicker, Step, Kibi, Aravis and Dranko just want to get on with it.  It’s a tie vote, 5 to 5.

“We need an odd number of people in the party,” says Ernie.

“We _are_ guaranteed to have to deal  with Eigomic if we wait,” concedes Grey Wolf.

“Plus whatever he brings with him,” says Kibi.

“And he can put up more defenses over night,” admits Ernie.  “We don’t know what he’s capable of.  And we won’t be able to detect them because of the Divination Sink.”

For another few minutes the conversation goes around in circles.

“Well, If we wait, I really want to try taking out Eigomic now,” says Kibi, tiring of the debate.

“I’m liking that,” says Grey Wolf.

“Without him,” Kibi continues, “there’s not going to be any organization in the defense.  It’ll make things a lot easier.”

“There’ll be chaos,” says Grey Wolf, smiling.

“Yeah, why not?” says Dranko.  “He’s kind of a jerk.”

“Evil does have degree,” says Step.  “Eigomic’s degree is not strong.  He is evil, but he is not diabolical.”

“He kicks puppies, but he doesn’t conquer worlds?” says Ernie.

“I cannot speculate as to what he does to puppies,” says Step.

“Let’s just kill everybody!” says Ernie unexpectedly.

“Ernest, that attitude does not become you,” says Step.

Ernie manages to look frustrated and embarrassed even in mist-form. 

“Oh, I don’t mean it.   I just.. .it’s just that I’m tired of it all being so hard!”

“If we really want to destroy everyone, we can just all fly away in different directions and wait for the universe to unravel,” says Aravis.  

“That would spread some chaos and confusion, all right,” says Ernie.

“I was kidding.”

“But…”

“No…. just… no, no, no, no.  Bad idea.  Forget I said it.”

“Tell me why it’s a bad idea?” cries Ernie, growing more and more frustrated..

Scree starts to roil.  

“I feel agitated,” says the earth elemental.   “Well, it’s not really me, if you know what I mean.”

“Hey Eyes,” says Kibi, “do you think we should go inside the tower now, or do you think we should wait?”

“I think they’re agitated about Ernie’s suggestion,” says Aravis.

Ernie looks down at Scree and addresses the Eyes of Moirel directly.

“You guys dragged us from our happy house, with the… the relaxing, and the fame.  You brought us here, to this crazy world which we don’t like, and now you won’t tell us what to do!  Aaaaiee, that’s frustrating!”

“Are you _castigating_ them?” asks Aravis, smirking.

“No.  And  I’m pretty sure they can resist my spells,” says Ernie.

“I’ll bet they don’t know what to do,” says Aravis.

“That is a frightening thought,” says Grey Wolf.

The sleet keeps falling.   Seldom has the Company been so paralyzed with indecision and so evenly divided in their opinions.  In the end, the decision is made for them.

“Er…hey, guys?  What’s that?”

Kibi is pointing out across the courtyard.  Dranko and Morningstar see it too… a dark shape moving through the sleet.  And it’s somewhat _higher_ than they are, even as they stand atop a forty-foot building.

“There’s something flying toward us,” says Kibi.  “It’s moving slowly.”

Morningstar quickly fires off a silent _detect thoughts_.  Kibi, already invisible, casts _improved invisibility_ on himself.

“’Cause sometimes you just can’t be invisible enough,” whispers Aravis.

It’s difficult to make out details through the driving sleet, but as the shape moves out over the courtyard it’s at least clear that it’s roughly spherical and about five feet in diameter.  Grey Wolf experiences a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Oh, joy,” he says. 

A full-sized “tundra eye” floats slowly into clear view.   Water drips from its bloated, purplish body.  Ten eye-stalks wiggle and writhe above its bulk.  Morningstar is unable to read its mind.  

It’s huge central eye blinks open and stares at them.  At once the wind-walkers become solid, the invisible folk become visible, the flying people stop flying, the _telepathic bond_ shuts off, and everyone’s magic weapons stop glowing.  There’s an imperceptible “plink” as someone’s Ioun Stone bounces on the ground.

“Why are you here?”  The beholder’s voice is wet, grinding, sloppy.

“You have something we want,” Ernie pipes up.

“That may not have been the right answer to the question,” whispers Aravis.

“A bauble,” continues Ernie hopefully.

“Who sent you?” burbles the beholder.

“The universe,” says Ernie, improvising wildly.  “It kind of hates us.”

“Oooh, we’re all going to die,” Grey Wolf predicts sullenly.

“We’d like to take the Eye and go now, please,” concludes Ernie.

The beholder looks them over for a few quiet seconds.   Then it asks:

“Are you the chosen?

“Er… yes!  Yes we are!” says Aravis, figuring that _has_ to be the right answer.

“Then you will know the secrets that Dark Words taught.  Speak the treasure that none have found.’

Uh… what?

“The Eye,” says Morningstar, trying to make it sound more like an assertion than a guess.

“Are you certain?” asks the beholder.

“That is certainly what we seek,” says Aravis.

“Name the prophets who saw the descent,” says the beholder.

Ernie’s face brightens as if he knows this one.  

“Oh…oh…”

It’s just on the tip of his tongue…

“Nope,” he concludes suddenly.  “No idea.”

“Well that just dashes our hopes,” says Grey Wolf.

Ernie grasps at straws.

“When you say ‘descent,” do you mean  ‘the fall,’ or ‘the disagreement?’”

The beholder lets out a long gurgling sigh that sounds like: “Hmmmmmmmmm.”

Ernie tries one more time.

“The Eye belongs to Moirel, but I don’t think she saw anything…”

“You are here,” says the beholder.  “You know what is here, but you are not the chosen.”

“Well, we’re _often_ chosen,” says Ernie.

“The penalty is death,” concludes the beholder.  It closes its large central eye.  Magic springs back to life around the Company.  Morningstar, Ernie, Flicker and Step are then struck by thin colored rays from the monster's eyestalks.

Ernie, Step and Flicker shrug off whatever the effects might have been.  Morningstar shakes her head and looks around, slightly dazed.

Kibi glances over in concern.  “Are you okay Morningstar?”

“Yeah.  I don’t think it affected me.”

Which is true; she doesn’t.  On the other hand, she is struck by the revelation that there is no reason for hostilities here; the beholder is just doing its job, and the Company is intruding on its turf.  Surely everyone can come to some agreement.  Better yet, they can just depart before misunderstandings turn to violence.

Grey Wolf, back to mist-form, starts the thirty-second process of turning solid.  Aravis takes the opportunity to blanket his friends with a _mass haste_ spell.  Morningstar looks around and sees Kay string her bow.

“What are you doing?” she cries.  “Let’s just get out of here!”

“Where can we go where it won’t chase us down?” asks Ernie.

“How about where we were last night?” answers Morningstar.  “We ran from the small ones, and this is worse!  We shouldn’t attack it!”

Ernie flies around to a different side of the courtyard, after which he starts de-misting.  Some of the beholders eyestalks track him as he flies.  Below him the eight giants have finally noticed the commotion.  One of them points up at the beholder.

“Googa Flog!” it shouts.  The others look up.  One of them drops his club in surprise.  They all begin to back away nervously at the sight of a really, really big tundra eye.

Dranko flies in the opposite direction from Ernie and also starts to de-mist.  Kay fires her bow from the rooftop and hits with two out of the four arrows.  They stick out of the beholder’s body like pins in a cushion.  Flicker flies down to ground level right next to the tower (carefully keeping it between him and the eight giants – not that they’re paying any attention to him) and like most of the others starts coming out of mist form.

Snokas has his bow drawn but sees that Morningstar is waving frantically at him.

“Morningstar, should I shoot it?”

“No!  Snokas, stop _her._”

“Who?” asks Snokas, puzzled.

“Kay!” says Morningstar.  Isn’t it obvious?  Plinking the beholder with arrows is only going to end in heartbreak.

“Er…. ok,” says Snokas, sounding unconvinced.

Kibi, ever the straight man, complains: “Morningstar, I know you didn’t want to attack, but we _are_ democratic… kind of.  And it’s no good for some of us to attack and some of us not to”

Snokas puts himself between Kay and the Beholder.  Kay glares at the half-orc, who shrugs his shoulders apologetically.

“This is crazy!” shouts Morningstar.  “Attacking it is never going to work!”

“It’s certainly not going to work if we’re not all pulling together,” shoots back Kibi.

“Ok, we won’t kill it,” grumbles Snokas.  “I don’t know _why_ we won’t kill it...” 

Morningstar throws up her hands in general frustration with Kibi’s failure to see reason and starts to de-mist herself.   She could end the _wind walk_ on everyone with a thought and gesture, but she feels right now that that would only increase hostilities.  

Ignoring Morningstar, the hasted Kibi  casts _hold monster_ on the beholder.  The monster resists.  Undeterred he targets the beast with a _charm monster_ but that also fails.  He curses his ill-luck and then moves around the courtyard perimeter away from his increasingly-less-bunched-up comrades.

The beholder has identified Kay as the greatest threat.   It floats a bit higher to get a good angle on her,  tilts to train different eyestalks on her.  A new colored ray strikes Kay in the chest.  Nothing happens.  A second ray striker her, this one dealing significant frost damage and covering her body with a icy glaze.  With a third contemptuous zap the creature flicks her with a pale beam that sends her flying backward off the 40’ roof.   It chuckles to itself for a second in satisfaction, but does a floating double-take when it sees Kay simply hovering in the air thirty feet back.  Kay might have been standing on the roof to shoot, but she also had a _fly_ spell active.

A few seconds later the beholder realizes that while dangerous, Kay might _not_ be the greatest threat after all.  Aravis waves his arms and utters the arcane syllables that bring forth a _sonic bolt._  KABOOM!  With its central eye closed, devastating sonic energy rips through its bloated body.   Seeing the ragged bits of fleshy pulp sloughing off the monster’s form, the _hasted_ Aravis fires off a second one.  KABOOM!  The beholder wobbles in the air.  It’s eyestalks quiver in pain.

Morningstar is shaking her head.  The beholder is her friend.  But then why was it just attacking her other friends with its magic bolts.  Self defense?  

“No!” she cries in confusion.  “Not sonic bolts!  Stop it!”

But Aravis was just reacting to the beholder’s attack on Kay, right?  It’s a monster, and it’s attacking them, attacking her friends… her _real_ friends…  But… but…

Ahhh!  It was a trick!

“Damnit!” shouts Morningstar, finally clearing her head of the beholder’s _charm_ attack.  “It got into my brain!”

“Hey! That’s _my_ brain!” shouts Dranko, incensed.  “Er, I mean, my fiancées brain!  And if anyone’s going to mess with her mind, it’s going to be me!”

Kay, hovering, fires another volley of arrows.  Three go wide, but the fourth sticks into the monster’s mass with a meaty thunk.  The force of the arrow spins the weakened beholder around about thirty degrees, such that it’s front-facing eye-stalks are looking directly at Kibi.

The dwarf smiles.  

ZOT!

A traditionally electrical _lightning bolt_ cracks from Kibi’s fingers and slams into the beholder.  It’s eyestalks all go rigid for a second before the monster falls, crashing down to the icy grass like a downed zeppelin.  

…to be continued…


----------



## Citizen Mane

> _Originally posted by Sagiro_
> *Isn’t it obvious? Plinking the beholder with arrows is only going to end in heartbreak.*




Sweeeeet.  

tKL


----------



## LightPhoenix

Well, now everyone knows they're there!  So much for argument


----------



## coyote6

Nice. Now, three questions.



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> *“Then you will know the secrets that Dark Words taught.  Speak the treasure that none have found.’
> 
> Uh… what?
> 
> “The Eye,”
> [...]
> “Name the prophets who saw the descent,” says the beholder.
> *




Was "The Eye" really "the treasure that none have found"?

Has the Company figured/found out who the prophets were?

How many more updates before we're caught up?


----------



## Sagiro

coyote6 said:
			
		

> *Nice. Now, three questions.
> 
> Was "The Eye" really "the treasure that none have found"?
> 
> Has the Company figured/found out who the prophets were?
> 
> And most importantly, how many more updates before we're caught up (and then sentenced to the Doom of Waiting )? *



I'm only going to answer these once.  

1. No

2. Yes

3. Right now, probably 2 or 3.  But we play again this Friday, which will probably produce another 2 to 4 posts.   

-Sagiro


----------



## Zustiur

> I'm only going to answer these once.




I would have laughed so hard if you had quad posted that by accident.

Zustiur.


----------



## el-remmen

I was certain that Beholder was gonna kill someone - or turn someone to stone or at at least knock someone to negs . . .  especially once Morningstar was charmed. . . 

But was surprised that they had a pretty easy time of it 

I enjoy the inclusion of more dialogue!


----------



## Sagiro

nemmerle said:
			
		

> *I was certain that Beholder was gonna kill someone - or turn someone to stone or at at least knock someone to negs . . .  especially once Morningstar was charmed. . .
> 
> But was surprised that they had a pretty easy time of it
> 
> I enjoy the inclusion of more dialogue! *




I too was surprised that the beholder went down as easily as it did, though it wasn't quite as deadly as a by-the-book beholder.  Because of my personal aversion to Save-or-Die spells, I changed its _disintegrate_ ray to the no-saving-throw cold ray power from _Otiluke's freezing sphere_.  I also changed _finger of death_ to something else, but I can't remember right now (notes are at home).  To partially balance this, I allowed the beholder to use four eyestalks per arc instead of three.

Since the visible PC's were fairly clumped together, the beholder only fired off 8 rays before it was killed.   One of these was the freeze-ray, which did some hefty damage to Kay.  Another was the _charm monster_ that affected Morningstar.  A third was the _telekinesis_ used on Kay.  And against the remaining five, the PC's made all of their saves (which included two _flesh to stone_ rays).

Ah well.  Live and learn.  Next time there'll just have to be more beholders!  

-Sagiro


----------



## coyote6

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *I'm only going to answer these once.
> *




I take it there were multiple postings . . . Thanks to whichever mod cleaned it up.

(I even checked to see if it posted before I hit post again! I blame sleep deprivation for my impatience.)


----------



## Sagiro

Dear readers,

Please join me in being absolutely flabbergasted by the following:

http://users.bigpond.net.au/StevenAC/StoryHour.htm

EN World reader StevenAC has taken the text from years of message board posts, combined it with bits from my own campaign website, and created an archived version of the story hour that is a thing of pure visual splendor.  Since I cannot adequately explain how cool this is, just take my advice and check it out for yourself. 

-Sagiro


----------



## LightPhoenix

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Dear readers,
> 
> Please join me in being absolutely flabbergasted by the following:
> *




Consider me joined.

*drool*

Simply amazing.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Wow.  Just wow.


----------



## Zaruthustran

Now _that's_ dedication. 

Still waiting on the movie version and novel, though.

-z


----------



## Kesh

> *
> "He kicks puppies, but he doesn't conquer worlds?" says Ernie.
> 
> "I cannot speculate as to what he does to puppies," says Step.
> *





I just love the banter going on through this whole thing.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 189*_

The giants look at the downed Enormous Tundra Eye, aghast.

“Morningstar!” says Ernie.  “You okay?  Is your brain all there?”

“I think so,” says Morningstar.  She blinks in the sleet, still unsure of herself.  It was in her mind!  It burns her inside to have had the tables turned like that.

And speaking of muddled minds, Kibi sees that six of the giants below him are clumped nicely together.  He follows up his _lightning bolt_ with a _confusion_.   The giants look about stupidly.

“So, should we press the attack?” asks Snokas, looking askance at Morningstar, and still not sure what’s going on.

“Get down there and get ready to guard Flicker from any giants once we’re all solid,” she tells her cohort.   Snokas looks at her.  He looks at the beholder.  He looks back at Morningstar.

“I’m sorry,” she says.  And with a smile and shrug, adds “It winked its cute little eye at me!”

“Hey now!” thinks Dranko over the mind-link.

The wind-walkers all get to ground level (staying near the tower) and prepare for Morningstar to drop the spell. 

Aravis, still feeling magic energy crackling on his fingertips, lands and readies a _fireball_ for the crowd of giants if any of them advance on the group.  He doesn’t have to wait long.  One of them ambles a few steps closer and Aravis doesn’t wait to see if it’s aggressive or merely wandering in its _confusion_.  A sonic _fireball_ explodes around the giants.  They wince in pain.

Four more giants, fresh and un_confused,_ arrive through the northern archway into the courtyard.    The only visible enemy they can see is Aravis standing about forty feet away.

“Boss?” says Pewter, nervously.  “You …er… see ‘em, right?”

“What do what me to do about them?” snaps Aravis.

The architecture of the archway allows Dranko to land on a wide ledge, just above giantish head-height.  He looks down at the backs of the four newly-arrived giants, his fingers twitching with anticipation as he waits for the _wind walk_ to drop. 

From her flying position Kay fires arrows at one of  the new giants.  Three of them slam into its body.  It looks annoyed.

Kibi spares Aravis a terrible pummeling by laying down a long _wall of force_, separating three of the newly-arrived giants from the rest of the battle.  Being _hasted_, he then flies down to Flicker and makes the halfling _invisible_.

“There’s a _wall of force_ up blocking off most of the newcomers!” he shouts in Charagan common.

Morningstar flies down to join the others on the ground and drops the _wind-walk._ She readies a _flame strike_ if any of the hedged-out giants make a move to scale the _wall of force_.

Finally solid, Flicker fishes out the iron key from Eigomic’s basement.  While he starts to feel around for the keyhole, Grey Wolf draws Bostock and charges the nearest giant.  It takes a swipe at him as he closes but the huge club clangs off his shield.  Bostock flashes with a flicker of blue light, and the sword speaks into Grey Wolf’s mind.

“It has been too long,” it hisses.

Aravis doesn’t wait for the giants to move again.   A number of the confused ones are starting to fix their sights on him, and he knows that if they decide to attack en masse, he’s paste.  He casts a _cone of cold_, catching all six in the frozen blast.   

None of them drop.  Aravis’ face twitches with apprehension.  At this very moment there is nothing between him and a world of hurt.  Most of them take a step in his direction…

“Aaaaaaaarrrrrggghhh!”  With a wild cry, Step charges the giant closest to Aravis.  He chops off one of its legs with a clean high sweep of his sword.   Down goes the giant, its blood staining the icy ground. 

Ernie charges too but it goes less well for him.  He slips on the sleet-slick grass and slides into the feet of his chosen giant.   A wild sword swing as he struggles to his feet goes wide, but he has at least gotten the giant’s attention.  It looks away from Aravis and down at his tiny attacker.

Snokas distracts another giant by swinging his picks at its knees; again, though he fails to penetrate its armor and hide, he steals the giant’s focus away from Aravis. 

The three giants on the other side of Kibi’s _wall of force_ see Aravis only a short distance away and charge!  Bonk!  Bonk, bonk!  Three giantish noses are crunched against the invisible barrier.  But despite the comedy, these giants are no fools.  Realizing that the barrier only comes up to their chests, two of them form cups with their hands and hoist the third over the wall.   The thrown giant lands on the slippery grass, his feet go flying out from under him, and he falls on his rear.

At the same time, Eigomic arrives through the arch.  Broad and strong and sporting his blood fox pelt, he surveys the combat and barks questions at his fellows.  The closest giants clue him in to the existence of the _wall of force_.  From Morningstar’s point of view his arrival is fortuitous, since he can be included in the _flame strike_.  FOOM!  Giants are singed, though Eigomic doesn’t seem much fazed. 

Finally the giants attack.  One of them strikes Grey Wolf with two crushing blows from its club.   Another charges Morningstar, and although he glances off the _wall of force_ and nearly loses his balance, he manages to keep his feet and bludgeon her.  The giant looking down at Ernie brings his club down on the halfling’s helm, and follows it up with a golf-like swing that sends Ernie skidding back ten feet, knocked onto his back.

The fourth giant swats at Snokas, his closest target.  Two almost contemptuous swings of the club send the half-orc reeling backward.  

The fifth and sixth giants go for Aravis.  Down come two huge clubs.

“Boooooossssss!” cries Pewter.

Wham!  Wham!  Aravis is pummeled, his bones jarred and his teeth rattling.  He’s still standing after the assault, albeit badly wounded.

Dranko activates his _sash of improved invisibility._  Eigomic hears him speak the trigger word, but when he turns to look back over his head he sees… is that a faint humanoid outline in the sleet?  

Snap!  Eigomic catches the tip of Dranko’s whip right in the face, and he flinches away in pain.

Kay pulls back her bow and fires at one of the giants menacing Aravis.  It’s a flawless shot, burying itself in the target’s forehead.  The giant crumples.  She shoots a second arrow into the side of the other of Aravis’ attackers.  The second giant turns slowly and looks at her, forgetting about Aravis in its _confusion._

“Got it!” shouts Flicker.  He finds the keyhole and slips the key in.  Perfect fit.  Snick!  A faint glow shines out from the invisible “door.”  He puts his hand to the glow and pushes.  The first thing he notices is that the texture is no longer stone.  It’s cold and glassy, like pearl, or ceramic.  

The second thing he notices is that it doesn’t yield.  Nope.  Not a bit.  He pushes with all his might but it might as well still be stone for all the good it does.  Using the key itself for as much leverage as possible he _pulls_ at the door instead.  Still nothing.  Argh!

Grey Wolf sees that most of the remaining giants are bunched around the northern entrance to the courtyard.  He signals to Aravis and Kibi that the time has come to inflict a spell combination that they’ve been cackling over for days.  Then he activates his own _vest of improved invisibility_ and shouts for Morningstar to get out of the way.  Dranko is also in the likely area of effect, but his rogue-ish reflexes should keep him out of harm’s way.

“Don’t worry about me,” he calls.  “If you have to get me inside, I can dodge.”

One Certain Step steps over the body of the giant he has just slain and moves on to the next one.  His bastard sword flashes, and the giant is cut to ribbons.    Ernie does the same to the giant that just clobbered him, carving up its shins and ankles until it falls over.   Snokas swings his picks, but grumbles jealously when his giant fails to die.

Morningstar vacates the area near the giants; this draws an attack from one of them, but its back-swing hits the _wall of force_ causing it to lose its balance and fall to the ground.    When she reaches Grey Wolf’s side she uses a charge from her _wand of cure serious wounds_, which he desperately needs after his recent pounding.

Then the storm comes.  Grey Wolf casts _iron storm_, centered in the midst of the giants a few feet above the _wall of force_.   The area fills with whirling iron filings.  The giants swat at them, taking minimal damage, while Dranko easily dodges them.   Eigomic chuckles as tiny iron bits bounce off of him.  

Kibi flies up and casts _lightning bolt_ toward the area of the _iron storm_; no sooner has the energy left the dwarf’s fingertips when it is sucked into the cloud of iron filings, filling its area with crackling electricity.   All of the giants roar with pain.  One of them explodes into gibbets.  Aravis follows up immediately with a _chain lightning_, its massive main blast sucked into the _iron storm_.  The secondary bolts get caught up as well, intensifying the effect.  Another giant explodes.   The ones that remain look horribly damaged.  Only Eigomic doesn’t look near death, but he’s obviously had better days than this one.  The iron filings aren't quite so funny anymore.

Unfortuately Dranko is a mess.  He has never had to dodge the effect of a charged _iron storm_ before, and he fails on both of his first two attempts.  

“Can you take another one?” shouts Aravis over the sleet.

Dranko looks at Eigomic.  “I think I’ve got the measure of it now,” he gasps.  “You can get Eigomic with one more!  Do it!”

“You’re the one who wanted to be up there,” thinks Morningstar over the _telepathic bond_.

“I can’t help it,” thinks Dranko mischievously.  “I like it on top.” 

Aravis, _hasted_, fires off a second _chain lightning_ into the iron filings.   KABOOM!  More giants are torn apart, limbs and chunks flying everywhere.  Eigomic screams in agony and drops to one knee.  Dranko topples from his perch and hits the ground, unconscious.   His mind drops from the link.

“Congratulations, mages,” says Morningstar angrily.  “You made a real big boom.  Dranko’s down.”

Eigomic drops his club and raises his hands.  

“Oom gah gah!  Oom gah gah!” he yells.  Three of the four giants still alive hear the instructions and surrender on the spot.   Their expressions are of profound relief at not having to fight to the death.

The fourth giant doesn’t hear his leader over the pounding sleet.  He swings his club and slams it into Snokas, springing several ribs and knocking the half-orc flat.  Step, the closest to Snokas, sees what is happening.  He already has serious misgivings about this battle and the death he has caused.   This final giant’s life would be spared if only he could see or hear his leader’s order to surrender.  Step lowers his sword, points at Eigomic, then kneels to Snokas and grants him the healing touch of his Goddess Kemma.  

He is rewarded with a thundering blow to his shoulder.

Meanwhile Kay has flown over to where Dranko should be, retrieving a healing potion as she goes.  Dranko’s invisible body is hard to spot, but the sleet makes it possible.  She finds Dranko’s throat by feel and detects a fluttering pulse.  

Flicker has given the glassy door of the tower a swift kick.  “There must be a password!” he says.  “Black Circle!  Eye of Moirel!  Seven Dark Words!…” he rattles off every plot-relevant proper noun he can think of, to no avail.

Ernie, his giant having surrendered, sheathes his sword and casts a healing spell on himself before going to help Flicker.  With his greater strength he pushes on the door but still it doesn’t budge.

Snokas, healed by Step, springs to his feet.  Step cannot stop him from plunging his picks into the giant’s legs.  The final giant falls backward into a puddle of rainwater and blood.   Step casts his eyes to the ground and prays for forgiveness.


…to be continued…


----------



## monboesen

Time to de-lurk.

Thanks for the great story (and thanks to the players too).

I was wondering how you guys are going to deal with 3.5 ed. It might only be a revision but at your level the changes add up. 

Skills disappear, spells change focus and class abilities comes or goes.

Will you retroengineer the characters or ignore the changes. Or will it be a pick and choose exercise.

Sorry if you already answered these questions but i dont always read the posts between the actual story.

I spotted the use of Relics and Rituals in that last post (or the Black book as it is known in my game). That book is infamous at our game for being filled with entertaining spelldescriptions of horrible overpowered spells (Shadow storm springs to mind) and we have found that everything from there has to be carefully checked for balance. What do you think of it.


----------



## Zustiur

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> “Boss?” says Pewter, nervously.  “You …er… see ‘em, right?”
> 
> “What do what me to do about them?” snaps Aravis.
> *



*

YES. It's perfect. I love cats, and Pewter is definately my favourite character in this whole story. He hasn't had the greatest of roles, especially in the early runs, but his increased vocal activity in recent times is glorious.

All Hail Pewter. All Hail Sagiro.

All tell Zus to shut up 

Zustiur.*


----------



## el-remmen

Please excuse me from being one of those kinds of story hour posters that comes along and sticks his nose into the business of "playing style" - but I found the idea of casting those _lightning bolt_ spells into the iron storm area while Dranko was up there was reckless beyond imagining - I guess I couldn't justify knowingly casting a damaging area spell where one of my campanions was no matter how much damage it does or how many hit points he had unless there was absolutely no other way and something huge was immediately at stake, i.e. the life of an innocent, the fate of the world, etc. . .  

I guess it pushes at the boundaries of my suspension of disbelief to have someone cast a danagerous and potentially fatal spell at a friend - or at the very least an extremely painful spell.

It is one of those things I would probably end up giving my players a raised eyebrow for even suggesting.


----------



## Sagiro

nemmerle said:
			
		

> *...
> I guess it pushes at the boundaries of my suspension of disbelief to have someone cast a danagerous and potentially fatal spell at a friend - or at the very least an extremely painful spell.
> 
> It is one of those things I would probably end up giving my players a raised eyebrow for even suggesting.  *



A few things to keep in mind:

- With his high reflex saves and _evasion_, this isn't the first time Dranko has voluntarily taken a chance like this one.  It's always worked out well in the past.   And characters in my game are always consulted before area-of-effect spells are launched in their vicinity.  

- With _cat's grace_ active, his reflex save in this case was at +14.   The chance of him failing all three saves was 1.8%.  

(Although they didn't do the math at the table, the odds worked out to:

Make all 3 saves:  36%
Make 2 out of 3 saves: 45%
Make 1 out of 3 saves: 17%
Make no saves: 2%)

- Having rolled well on an _endurance_, he had 148 hit points at the time, which should have been enough for him to absorb all three spells and stay up, even in the unlikely event that he failed all three saves.

KidCthulhu was playing Dranko that night, and rolled, on three consecutive saves, a "2," a "3," and a "4."  And the damage dice for Aravis's second _chain lightning_ were off the charts; something like 65 points of damage on 15d6 (expected total: 53)

Ah well.  Live, barely, and learn.  

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *KidCthulhu was playing Dranko that night, and rolled, on three consecutive saves, a "2," a "3," and a "4."  *




Oh, and you can bet I wasn't really happy about this.  We thought around the table for a long time about how we were going to make this phone call.

Me: Er, Honey...The good news is that the _Iron Storm_ - _Chain Lightning_ combination did a ton of damage!

Piratecat: And what's the bad news?

Me: You took it.

Really, nothing worse than killing your husband's character.  Then again, staying to _evade_ the area affect spells is SO what Dranko would have done and always does.

And I just want to note that all the rude nasty Dranko dialogue you read here (and many other comments that wouldn't get past Eric's Grandma) are me.  Playing Dranko and Ernie at the same time almost broke my little brain.


----------



## dpdx

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *Me: Er, Honey...The good news is that the Iron Storm - Chain Lightning combination did a ton of damage!
> 
> Piratecat: And what's the bad news?
> 
> Me: You took it.*



I'm sorry to laugh at PC misfortune, but this snippet is hysterical.


----------



## StevenAC

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Eigomic drops his club and raises his hands.
> 
> "Oom gah gah!  Oom gah gah!" he yells.




I'm sorry, but I'm just going to have to think of all the giants as having cockney accents from now on.  I've got this image of all the giants breaking into a slightly adapted musical number from _Oliver!_ at this point:

GIANTS: Oom-gah-gah! Oom-gah-gah!
   That's 'ow it goes,
   Oom-gah-gah! Oom-gah-gah!
   Ev'ryone knows:
EIGOMIC: They all suppose what they want to suppose
   When they 'ear oom-gah-gah!

 

Ahem.  On another note (so to speak)... I've just uploaded Part Six of the Collected Story Hour -- a bumper 60-page installment which ends with one of my favourite lines in the whole campaign:



> There is stunned silence. Someone utters: "We're _so_ screwed."


----------



## Piratecat

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *KidCthulhu was playing Dranko that night, and rolled, on three consecutive saves, a "2," a "3," and a "4." *




Let's all hope my NEXT wife has better luck with dice.  

Seriously, I knew something was wrong when I got home and called Sagiro's house to find out how the game was going. No one wanted to talk to me.  That's never, ever a good sign.


----------



## Swack-Iron

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> KidCthulhu was playing Dranko that night, and rolled, on three consecutive saves, a "2," a "3," and a "4."  And the damage dice for Aravis's second chain lightning were off the charts; something like 65 points of damage on 15d6 (expected total: 53)
> *




We've got a couple of characters in our games that are immune to fire damage, and they also occasionally volunteer to have Fireballs and Flame Strikes dropped on their heads. We usually remind them that there's one very bad consequence even to immune characters: they could roll a 1, and if they roll a 1 they have to make saves for their precious magic items.

Only volunteer to get hit by a friendly spell (even if you don't think you'll take any damage) if you're willing to take the chance that you'll loose your favorite magic item!


----------



## KidCthulhu

StevenAC said:
			
		

> *
> I've got this image of all the giants breaking into a slightly adapted musical number from Oliver! at this point:
> GIANTS: Oom-gah-gah! Oom-gah-gah!
> That's 'ow it goes,
> *




I'm sorry Steve, but I'm going to have to kill you now.  Please hold still, this will only hurt a lot.

[I played the Dodger in high school.  Still fighting the flashbacks.]


----------



## Henry

Piratecat said:
			
		

> *Let's all hope my NEXT wife has better luck with dice.
> *




I do SEEM to recall a certain juvenile Old One rolling 4 consecutive "20"s sometime last year, in another time and place. So this could be looked at as Corilayna kinda balancing the scales? 

Lesson: NEVER, EVER let someone with a lucky streak unbalanced roll dice for you.


----------



## StevenAC

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> I'm sorry Steve, but I'm going to have to kill you now.  Please hold still, this will only hurt a lot.



_*channels Step*_
Ernest, that attitude does not become you...


So, who healed Dranko back up from his near-death experience?  If he did it himself, Delioch's healing should provide him with a pretty impressive scar for that one...


----------



## KidCthulhu

StevenAC said:
			
		

> *
> *channels Step*
> Ernest, that attitude does not become you...
> 
> 
> So, who healed Dranko back up from his near-death experience?  If he did it himself, Delioch's healing should provide him with a pretty impressive scar for that one... *




Ah, but I'm not Ernie.  He's just the nice face I put on occasionally.  And the death sentence stands.  As soon as I can get to Australia.. er, singing "Consider Yourself" all the way.   AAARRGH.

As for the healing, don't think that hadn't occured to us.  Morningstar _Healed_ Dranko, so no all body scar.


----------



## Piratecat

Sagiro is SUCH A RAT BASTARD!  What a frikkin' stinker. After [spoilers], he let us stew in our own juices for hours while we tried and tried to 



Spoiler



. And after all that, we finally figured out that [spoilers!]

Okay, it sounds less impressive in this form, but let me tell you - we pelted him with objects from across the table and threatened to take away his 



Spoiler



.  Auggh!


----------



## Spatzimaus

Yay!  More Mad Libs!



> Sagiro is SUCH A RAT BASTARD!  What a frikkin' stinker. After *Dranko licked Het Branoi*, he let us stew in our own juices for hours while we tried and tried to *unstick his tongue after it froze to the tower*. And after all that, we finally figured out that *we were in the wrong town altogether*
> 
> Okay, it sounds less impressive in this form, but let me tell you - we pelted him with objects from across the table and threatened to take away his *net access*.  Auggh!


----------



## Ryan Koppenhaver

Yay, indeed!



			
				Piratecat said:
			
		

> *Sagiro is SUCH A RAT BASTARD!  What a frikkin' stinker. After Naradawk teleported in and offered the company tea and cookies, he let us stew in our own juices for hours while we tried and tried to decide what the catch was. And after all that, we finally figured out that the emperor was just a really nice guy, after all!
> 
> Okay, it sounds less impressive in this form, but let me tell you - we pelted him with objects from across the table and threatened to take away his Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood collector's edition DVD set.  Auggh!   *


----------



## Sagiro

Sheesh.  To think I'd live to see the day when my players would pelt me with bread loaves.  

Here's the last installment before tonight's run.  It'll take some time to transcribe the latest game from tape, and I'm going away for the weekend, so this'll be the last update for a while.  


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 190*_

Kay and Aravis help slide the contents of a healing potion down Dranko’s throat.   He coughs up some water and his breathing becomes regular, but still he is unconscious.  Only a foot or two above them the air remains filled with small chunks of flying iron.

“Kibi!” calls Ernie, heaving at the door.  “Do you think Scree could help us get through the tower door now?”

“Do you think we _want_ to try getting the door open before we heal up?” asks Morningstar.

“We don’t want Eigomic to see that we’ve gotten in,” adds Kibi.

“I agree,” says Aravis.  “We should only go in if we first dispatch Eigomic.”

“Dispatch him?” barks Step, lifting his head.  “He surrendered!”

Kibi dismisses his _wall of force_ and activates his _Ioun Stone of tongues_.  He moves so that he can see Eigomic, just in case the giantish Keeper tries to flee.

“Eigomic!” calls the dwarf.

“What’s that?” shouts Eigomic.  He cannot see the source of the voice, since Kibi is invisible.

“It’s a dwarf,” says Kibi, trying to sound menacing.  “So don’t try to flee.”

“I have to get out of this… spell… or I’ll die,” growls Eigomic, swatting at the iron bits.

“Then come towards my voice,” Kibi instructs.

Eigomic limps out of the _iron storm_ toward Kibi.  Between them, deflated on the ground, is the dead beholder.  The Keeper stares at it.

“You… killed it.”  His voice is soft with awe and confusion.

“It attacked us,” says Kibi.

“Simplistic,” mutters Ernie, “but true.”

“Just tell us,” says Kibi, “who are the prophets who saw the descent?”

“Who?  What are you talking about?” snaps Eigomic.

“Is there a password to get into this… thing?” asks Kibi, pointing to the tower.

“I don’t know!” says Eigomic angrily.

Morningstar ducks under the _iron storm_ and casts _heal_ on Dranko.  Her fiancee opens his eyes and sees her kneeling over him.

“Baby,” he says weakly, “you make everything better.”

Morningstar smiles at him, crawls out from under the sphere of filings, and casts _detect thoughts_ on Eigomic.  To her surprise, it works.  She starts reading his surface thoughts, searching for discrepancies as Kibi interrogates him.

“Is there more than one floating master, or is that the only one?” asks Kibi, pointing at the dead beholder.

“I only saw it once, but I don’t _think_ there is more than one,” answers Eigomic.

“So why did you have all the other giants guarding this statue?” asks Kibi.

“It is my solemn duty to guard the statue from anyone,” says the Keeper.

“Duty to whom?

“To the Floating Master.”

“The Floating Master told you to guard it?” presses Kibi.

“Well, technically the previous Keeper told me.”

“Oh,” says Kibi.  Morningstar nods her head, indicating that all of this is the truth, so far as she can tell.

“So, er,” says Kibi, “do you know anything about the key that was in your basement?”

“Ah, the key… which you murdered my people to get,” snarls Eigomic.

Kibi looks discomfited but presses on.

“Do you know what it’s for?” he asks.

“No.  I was charged to keep it safe.  And I _thought_ I had.”

The Keeper glares at the watery outline of the invisible dwarf before him.

“Why did you come here?” he cries.  “Why have you killed my folk?”

“Well… er…” says Kibi at a loss.  “We did warn you giants not to engage in fighting with us.  I understand you thought it was your duty to protect the statue.  But it’s our duty to save the universe, and that involves getting inside that statue.”

“I saw the bodies in my study,” says Eigomic angrily.  “One of them was mutilated, and the other was unconscious and near death, slumped in a chair!  You took them by surprise.  Did you give _them_ the opportunity to surrender?”

A light rumble of thunder sounds far overhead.  The sleet continues to come down.  Kibi, shamed, has no answer for Eigomic.  Uncomfortable seconds tick by.

“It seems I have no choice but to get rid of you as soon as possible,” says Eigomic wearily.  “What do you need from me?”

“The password,” says Kibi.

“What password?”

Morningstar gestures that the Keeper truly doesn’t know.

“The Floating Master asked us questions when we wanted to get into the statue,” says Kibi.

“I see,” sneers Eigomic.  “No doubt you did not answer them, and so were forced to kill him.”

“Do you know what the Chosen Ones are?” asks Kibi doggedly.

“No.  The Floating Master did not tell us things we do not need to know.  We are to guard the statue of the Great Floating Master.”

“What do you get out of this?” asks Kibi.  “What’s in it for you, to do what the Master asks?”

“The Keepers live to serve!” explodes Eigomic.  “There needs to be nothing _in it_ for me.  I do my duty because I _must_.

Morningstar picks up an additional surface thought from the giant.  He mentally adds:  _“and because given what a pain those little ones are, a big one could wipe out my whole city if we didn’t do as it asks…”_

“If we promise to do no more harm to your people, will you promise not to interfere with us entering the statue?” asks Kibi.

“Entering the statue?” asks Eigomic, as if he doesn’t quite get the concept.  “It’s… it’s a _statue_.

“Do you promise?” presses Kibi.

“And what assurances do I have that I won’t have twenty more dead fellows tomorrow?”

Kibi thinks for a moment.

“We could kill you now,” he points out.  “But we are choosing not to.”

“I suggest for your own sake that you _don’t_ kill me now,” says Eigomic.  “When my fellows discover my death, the people of my city will stop at nothing to hunt you down.  I know you’re powerful.  I don’t know that you’re powerful enough to withstand that!”

Mentally he adds:  _”Of course, maybe they are…”_

“We’re not going to make a first strike against you if you neither hinder us nor attack us,” says Kibi.

“When you enter the statue,  is it likely to harm my people or my city?”  _Or myself, more importantly._

Morningstar shakes her head.

“No, not if you’re not in this courtyard,” promises Kibi.

“It seems I have no choice,” says Eigomic.  “How long do you need?”

“Two days,” says Kibi.

“Fine,” says Eigomic.  He’s thinking:  _I *assume* there’s only one Floating Master, but if I try to summon him again, maybe another one will come…”_

Morningstar shares this thought with Kibi in Charagan common.

“How do you summon the Floating Master?” asks Kibi.

“I don’t summon the Floating Master,” Eigomic lies.  “He simply knows when there’s trouble.”

Morningstar laughs.

“It’s not a good idea to lie to us,” says Kibi gravely.

Eigomic glares at him.

“I use an amulet,” he mumbles.  “I don’t know how it works.  I summoned the Floating Master when you started the trouble.”

“Don’t summon another one,” says Kibi.  Then he thinks better of this plan, and adds: “And in order for us to be sure you won’t, you must leave the amulet with us.”

Eigomic reaches under his furs and pulls out a chain with a  small attached beholder figurine.  He tosses it down near Kibi’s feet.  He’s thinking:  _Now I’d better hope there aren’t any more, because if there are, I’m in big, big trouble._

“Is there anything else I should ask him?” says Kibi to the rest of the Company.

“Ask him if he thinks I’m sexy,” says Dranko.  Kibi wisely ignores him.

“We will keep you at your word,” says Kibi to the giant.  "We will not harm you if you do not interfere with us.”

“May I heal myself?” asks Eigomic.  “Don’t be alarmed.  I’m going to cast a spell.”

“A healing spell?” asks Kibi.

“Yes.”

Eigomic chants a brief prayer and some of his wounds close up.

“Now, may I bring in others of my kind to carry out the dead?”

“Yes, of course,” says Kibi.

“I should also bury the Floating Master,” adds Eigomic.

“You can do that soon,” says Kibi, knowing that Morningstar will want to interrogate the corpse.

“Soon?  _soon?”_ cries Eigomic.  “You intend to desecrate the body of the Floating Master?”

“No,” says Kibi. “We will not touch the body.”

At least that last part is true.

“If you’re not going to touch the body,” says Eigomic, “I would like to take it for burial.”

“You can take it for burial in one hour,” says Kibi flatly.

“Will you at least allow us to drag it beneath the balcony so it does not continue to get pelted wit sleet?”

“Yes, of course.”

Eigomic barks orders to the surviving giants.

“You!  And you!  Drag the body of that… that large tundra eye over there, out of the rain.”

They do. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” says the Keeper, “I’ll need to get some workers in here to help take care of my dead.”

* *

Half an hour later the courtyard has been cleared of corpses and the Company is left alone with the dead beholder.  They discuss what questions they want to put to the corpse.  

When they are decided, Morningstar casts her spell.  The body heaves to “life.”  Eyestalks wiggle.  The creature slurps a fraudulent breath.

“I hate this spell,” says Ernie.

“Floating Master, old buddy,” says Morningstar.  “How do we get into the tower?”

“You need a key,” says the beholder in its wet, bubbly voice.  Then, after a pause, it adds:  “And a password.”

“What is the password?” asks Morningstar.

“I cannot remember the password,” says the beholder.

Crap!

“What questions do you ask to determine if people trying to get inside the tower are the Chosen?”

“I ask:  ‘Speak the treasure that none have found.’  I ask:  ‘Name the prophets who saw the descent.’  And I ask:  ‘Tell the lie that the first God spoke.’”

“What are the answers to these questions,” demands Morningstar.

“True enlightenment.  Garlang and Zoya.  You are free.”

“Wow, that’s cynical!” comments Ernie.  

“What hazards will we encounter within the tower?” Morningstar asks.

“I have no idea,” answers the Floating Master.  “I’ve never been inside.”

With her final question, Morningstar asks:  “How can we learn the password?”

The corpse jiggles, like it’s laughing.

“Heh, heh, heh.  Ask someone who knows!”

With a gurgling hiss, the beholder deflates again and lies motionless on the grass.

…to be continued…


----------



## Redwald

*Divination sinks in the courtyard*

Maybe I'm stupid, but what happened to the Diviniation Sinks in the courtyard of the Great Floating Master statue?

When the Company first assailed the tower they made a giant turn one around so they had a region where they could use divinations.  But when Eigomic showed up, he had the giants turn the stone back around.

How come the company was able to use _Rary's Telepathic Bond_ and _Tounges_ spells and spell effects in the courtyard this time?  What did I miss?  If I recall correctly, in the city (can't remember the name -- the city of perpetual twilight where Grey Wolf nearly died) divinations, including _Rary's Telepathic Bond_, were suppressed by the big amplified Divination Sink as if by an _anti-magic_ field (incidentally, I'm not sure why _Rary's Telepathic Bond_ is any more of a divination than _message_ or _magic mouth_ are.  But that's an argument for another forum  ).

[EDIT: stupid me didn't finish my sentence after "nearly died)"]
[EDIT: edited again because I couldn't preview by previous incoherent edit]


----------



## Sagiro

*Re: Divination sinks in the courtyard*



			
				Redwald said:
			
		

> *Maybe I'm stupid, but what happened to the Diviniation Sinks in the courtyard of the Great Floating Master statue?
> 
> When the Company first assailed the tower they made a giant turn one around so they had a region where they could use divinations.  But when Eigomic showed up, he had the giants turn the stone back around.
> 
> How come the company was able to use Rary's Telepathic Bond and Tounges spells and spell effects in the courtyard this time?  What did I miss?  If I recall correctly, in the city (can't remember the name -- they city of perpetual twilight where Grey Wolf nearly died). *



Oops... forgot to mention... after Eigomic surrendered, the Company turned (or had the giants turn) the Sinks around again.  (Perhaps one of my players remembers the details; I know at some point they assured me they had gotten them turned around...)  As for the _telepathic bond_ working during the fight... must have been a glitch in the matrix.  Ah well.  In short, you may be stupid, but you're not as stupid as I am!  

-Sagiro


----------



## Redwald

*Re: Re: Divination sinks in the courtyard*



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> Oops... forgot to mention... after Eigomic surrendered, the Company turned (or had the giants turn) the Sinks around again.  (Perhaps one of my players remembers the details; I know at some point they assured me they had gotten them turned around...)  As for the telepathic bond working during the fight... must have been a glitch in the matrix.  Ah well.  In short, you may be stupid, but you're not as stupid as I am!
> 
> -Sagiro *




Ah, that explains it.  You're so busy telling a wonderful story that you, and maybe your players, sometimes forget little details.  

That's perfectly fine with me.  It's been a long time since I had a chance to actually play with people, but I remember make minor mistakes like that.  As long as everyone's having fun, you just keep moving on.  Also, if you feel a particularly egregious error was made you could just retcon it for the purposes of the Story Hour.  Folks like me wouldn't mind, I'm sure.  

Well, I'll go back to lurk mode now.  I will anxiously await the next installment, and continue to be very, very jealous of your players.  I personally wouldn't trade your creativity and RBDMness for all the rules-meticulousness in the world.  Someday maybe we'll have really good DM's assistant programs to keep track of the piddly details for us.

Smiley overload!


----------



## Nail

*Re: Re: Divination sinks in the courtyard*



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> * Ah well.  In short, you may be stupid, but you're not as stupid as I am!
> 
> -Sagiro *




You've got _no idea_ what a morale-boost this DM gets out of reading that.  Thanks for writing your story hour, Sagiro......


----------



## StevenAC

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Ah, but I'm not Ernie.  He's just the nice face I put on occasionally.  And the death sentence stands.  As soon as I can get to Australia.. er, singing "Consider Yourself" all the way.   AAARRGH.




Looking at an atlas, I don't think I can run much further away.  And if I'm already condemned, well...

(If you feel like singing along, click here... )

ERNIE:
I am the very model of a halfling personality,
I like to cook and like to eat, for food's my speciality.
I keep the party happily provisioned when we're travelling;
I like to meet new people, so adventuring is just my thing.
I'm three foot tall and three foot wide and plate-mail-clad from head to toe;
I'm not the best at stealth or speed in dangerous places where we go;
Still, when it comes to whupping ass I'm confident I make the grade:
   (_pause_)
My portion size is small but Sunder Kneecap is my stock-in-trade...

THE COMPANY:
His portion size is small but Sunder Kneecap is his stock-in-trade,
His portion size is small but Sunder Kneecap is his stock-in-trade,
His portion size is small but Sunder Kneecap is his stock, his stock-in-trade...

ERNIE:
I'm cheerful as a rule but can be doughy when I'm roused, you see;
"Gosh darn it all to heck!" I'll swear when things aren't going right for me.
In short (hah!) and despite all of my individuality,
I am the very model of a halfling personality.

THE COMPANY:
In short (hah!) and despite all of his individuality,
He is the very model of a halfling personality.

ERNIE:
It seems that I'm the Focus 'cos my middle name is "Wilburforce";
I don't know what it means, but I suppose I'll find out in due course.
I've fought against all kinds of things from rats and bats to orcs and men,
I've turned undead and cast my healing magic time and time again.
I told off Solomea's ingrate father in the Crosser's Maze;
With _castigate_ I've deafened several enemies and left them dazed.
I took the Stormknights to attack the great Colossus Ventifact,
   (_pause_)
But when I died I had to give the Nifi's flying carpet back.

THE COMPANY:
But when he died he had to give the Nifi's flying carpet back,
But when he died he had to give the Nifi's flying carpet back,
But when he died he had to, had to give the Nifi's flying carpet back.

ERNIE:
I really, really hate it when a bully beats a little guy;
I'm not a front-line fighter but I can't resist the urge to try;
In short (hah!) and despite all of my individuality,
I am the very model of a halfling personality.

THE COMPANY:
In short (hah!) and despite all of his individuality,
He is the very model of a halfling personality.

ERNIE:
And now we're in this crazy world where someone's broken history;
The situation's desperate and we have to solve this mystery.
The Eyes tell me the fabric of reality wants us erased
So I must keep the _talisman_ at all times belted 'round my waist.
We've followed clues as best we can; to Het Branoi we've come at last;
We think an Eye's inside there past the giants and the lightning blast.
A big beholder wants a password and it looks cantankerous;
   (_pause_)
It's all so very hard -- I think the universe is hating us.

THE COMPANY:
It's all so very hard -- we think the universe is hating us.
It's all so very hard -- we think the universe is hating us.
It's all so very very hard -- we think the universe is hating us.

ERNIE:
But while the party sticks together, we'll get home through thick and thin;
The Sharshun and their Emp'ror, we'll consign them to the rubbish bin.
For still, in spite of all these threats to my congeniality,
I am the very model of a halfling personality!

THE COMPANY:
For still, in spite of all these threats to his congeniality,
He is the very model of a halfling personality!


----------



## KidCthulhu

[sound of jaw hitting floor]

I take it all back.  Not only can you live, I'll be sending a case of turtle jerky your way.  

That was the best!


----------



## Alomir

Oh, my, that's good.  StevenAC, *please* make sure that gets into the archive...


----------



## Plane Sailing

StevenAC - I don't pay much attention to most song/skits people write on these boards, but that is just so, so excellent!

I wish I could do that!


----------



## (contact)

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *[Here begins the first session captured on audio tape and transcribed directly.  The dialogue you read here is 99% authentic, with only the mildest of cosmetic touch-up.]*




This is just the best.   Thanks for going the extra mile on this one!

-----

Piratecat was holding up your beholder and his password as the most recent epitome of your Rat Bastardliness, and helped pacify my (pissed off) players.

(tips hat)  

I'm also gratified that the thing was dead-- the image of the beholder, lying in its own impact crater with its central eye staring blankly as a warbling laugh bubbles up through its scaly lips . . . (shudders).


----------



## StevenAC

> _Originally posted by KidCthulhu_
> 
> I take it all back. Not only can you live, I'll be sending a case of turtle jerky your way.
> 
> That was the best!




I'm glad you liked my little parody of G&S, KidC.
The only problem that I seem to have now is a tendency,
No matter what the topic is, to think and write iambic'ly...

*_thwack_*

Oh, no.  Could somebody please get this song OUT OF MY HEAD!!  

In other news... Part Seven of the collected Story Hour is now available on the website.  This is the part where the Company finally catches up with Mokad and the Black Circle and Sagiro reaches new heights of rat-bastardliness...


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

*whipes tears out of eyes*

Thank you, thank you...genius is not too strong a word.  That was fantastic.


----------



## Plane Sailing

Swack-Iron said:
			
		

> We've got a couple of characters in our games that are immune to fire damage, and they also occasionally volunteer to have Fireballs and *Flame Strikes* dropped on their heads. We usually remind them that there's one very bad consequence ...




Did anyone remind your DM of the bad consequence that Flame Strikes are half *divine power* damage and thus fully applicable to people immune to fire?


Hmmm? 

edit: formatting


----------



## Sagiro

Sorry about the long delay!  Planning a wedding takes up a lot of time, so updates will probably be sporadic for the next couple of months.

That said, here's the first half of the only session still undocumented:


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 191*_

“Void in the Glass I return to Thee!”

“Kai Kin Custard!”

“Friend!”

The hidden tower fails to respond.

“How about  ‘Open the bloody hell up!’” cries Grey Wolf.

“’Friend’ is always the password,” grumbles Kibi reproachfully, glaring at the tower through the sleet.

“Not much of a password, is it, if everybody can guess it,” says Ernie.

Everyone is beyond soaking wet by now.  The courtyard grass has vanished beneath a slick carpet of hard white slush.

“We should do another _passwall_ now that the door’s open,” suggests Dranko.  “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“We all get blasted backward and suffer great pain,” says Ernie.

“Really?” answers Dranko.  “I wonder what _that’s_ like.”

Grey Wolf rolls his eyes.

“You told us you could get out of the way!” he cries.  “You’ve jumped out of everything else we’ve thrown at you.”

“So what the hell are we going to do?” asks Dranko, looking at no one in particular.  “We’re standing herein the rain.  There’s exploded giant all over my boots…”

“I think that’s exploded you,” interrupts Ernie.

Flicker is still standing next to the tower, fiddling around with the key.  The dead beholder has told them they need a password, but maybe if he can jimmy the lock in _just_ the right way, he can spring the door open.   That’s the idea, anyway, but he’s not having any luck.

Step is sitting cross-legged on the wet ground, head bowed, praying silently.  Ernie watches the paladin, empathizing with the discomfort of icy rivulets running down beneath plate mail.

“Wait a minute!” says Ernie suddenly.  He quotes from Step’s poem: *“light must rive the last of five.’* Step’s how we get in!  Hey Step!”

To Ernie’s disappointment, no one gets excited over his guess.

“We’ve already asked him,” says Morningstar.  “He doesn’t know the password.   None of us know it.”

“He doesn’t know the password,” says Ernie, “but maybe he _is_ the password!”

The rest of the Company looks at him like he’s crazy.  Dranko clears his throat and gestures toward the tower.

“Uh, so in other words, every time they want to walk in through the door after running errands, they pull out One Certain Step, and…”

“Maybe it’s some sort of… special… thing…” says Ernie lamely, realizing he’s come to a dead end.

“I die inside,” says Step, lifting his head briefly and looking pointedly at the tower.

“You’re not going to die,” says Ernie.  “Nobody’s going to die here.”

“That’s right,” mutters Kibi.  “’Cause we’re not _getting_ inside at this rate.”

Morningstar has been taking a long look at Step, lost in silent prayer.  She thinks he looks especially somber, almost morose.  Ernie notices the same thing.

“Maybe we should cast _commune_ to find out what happened to his horse,” he whispers.

“His horse doesn’t exist,” says Grey Wolf, quietly, so that Step cannot hear.

“The giants have horses,” says Dranko “We can take one of the littlest giantish ponies and it’ll be the size of his war-horse…”

The others are staring at him.

“Never mind,” he mutters.  To change the subject, he turns to Morningstar.

“By the way.  Remember way back when we were investigating Gohgan’s basement and you guys wanted to _charm_ Gohgan and I said, no, being charmed is horrible?  Er… how was it?”

Morningstar thinks for a second before answering.

“Beats being _fireballed_” she says, smirking.

“Or _lightning bolted_?” asks Dranko.

“Okay, okay!” shouts Grey Wolf. “For the last time, you said you could jump out of the way!”

“But no, it wasn’t so good,” concludes Morningstar.

“So the problem was,” explains Dranko, “I could have dodged the _lightning bolts,_ but you _lightning bolted_ the cloud, and I didn’t know which way the stupid thing was coming from.  That was my problem.”

“You wanna practice?” says Ernie, smiling innocently.  Grey Wolf laughs as well.

“You’re healed up again,” adds Flicker, grinning.

“Oh, I don’t mean now,” says Ernie.  “But back at the… oh…”

His face falls.

“What?” says Dranko.

“I was going to say, you could practice out in the backyard of the Greenhouse but… we don’t have a backyard anymore.”

“Sure we do,” says Kibi.

“It just happens to be in an evil city, on another continent, where we can’t get to.  No problem,” says Dranko.

“We can’t _teleport_ to it?” asks Kibi.

“It’s across the uncrossable sea,” Ernie reminds him.

The witty banter falters.  The sleet doesn’t.

“So how are we going to figure out the stupid password?” bursts out Dranko angrily.

Morningstar sighs.  She knows what the plan is likely to be, as it was the last time they faced this sort of predicament.  Kibi has come to the same realization.   Morningstar can flood the area around the tower with _thought captures_.

“Hey Morningstar,” says Kibi with a wry smile.  “What’s the password?” 

“Hopefully it involves a sneeze, ‘cause we’re all going to have colds,” says Grey Wolf.

Morningstar straightens up, and does some quick counting of her open spell slots for the day.

“Hey Flicker,” she says.  “Get your thoughts out of there.”

Flicker looks up from his picking efforts, momentarily confused.  Then he gets it.

“Oh… right.”

“Or work without thinking,” says Ernie.

“I have plenty of  _though captures_ I can cast today,” says Morningstar.

“Couldn’t hurt,” says Ernie.  “The worst thing that can happen is you end up sharing Flicker’s innermost thoughts.”

“Ewwwww,” says Grey Wolf, making a face.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” says Morningstar.

“Must be better than Dranko’s thoughts,” points out Aravis.

A new idea comes to Kibi.

“Hey Scree,” he thinks.

“Yes?”

“I don’t suppose the Eyes feel like telling you the password so we can get into the tower?”

“I don’t suppose either,” answers the earth elemental glumly.

Kibi shares this failure with the others.

“Can they get their brother to come and open the door?” asks Ernie.

“Yeah, really,” says Grey Wolf, pointing to the tower.  “The third Eye is in there, right?”

Scree, annoyed, thinks to Kibi.  “Maybe I haven’t made myself clear enough.  I don’t know what the Eyes are doing.  I don’t know what they’re thinking.  I don’t know what they’re going to do.  I wish you’d all stop asking me.”

“Sorry,” thinks Kibi.

Kay fidgets.  

“I wish I knew what the giants out there were up to,” she says.  

Morningstar casts a _telepathic bond_ and connects herself with Kay, Grey Wolf, Morningstar and Dranko.  Kay goes up to the rooftops to keep watch.

“Now you can experience the joy of sharing a mind-link with Dranko,” says Flicker to Grey Wolf.

“Mm,” says Grey Wolf, concerned.  “And you can’t wash out your brain.”

“What?” says Dranko, pretending to be insulted.  Then he leers.  He’ll give ‘em something to wash out…

“Oh, for crying out loud,” he says.  “I promise I won’t think a single thing about your tight elven ass.”

“ICK!” exclaims Ernie, turning red.

“Aaaagghh!” adds Grey Wolf.

“He’s a half-elf,” points out Flicker.  “Does that make him half-assed?”

“That reminds me of a joke I heard once,” says Dranko. “How can you tell how old an elf is?  Cut him in half and count the rings”

Grey Wolf groans.  Aravis may or may not have then uttered:  “I thought elves only had three rings…”

Ah, yes.  Lacking the password and using up their patience, the Company is getting quite punchy.  A few minutes later Morningstar has stocked as full a complement of _thought captures_ as she can for the day.  She stands near the door to the tower and starts to cast.

The first thought she gleans is Flicker’s, something about the length of a post.

“Flicker, what’s a post?” she asks, curious.

“It’s the part at the end of a key that the bit is attached to,” answers Flicker.

“Ah.”

The second thought is also Flicker’s.  He’s hoping that Dranko’s timing is just right when he yanks out a secondary lock-picking tool.

The third thought is yet another from Flicker.  He’s thinking:  “I’ll never be able to pull the door open using the key as a handle, but I might as well try.”

“I’m telling you,” says Dranko, “we need a magical device that stops Flicker from thinking.”

The fourth thought is from Snokas, a feeling of unfocused pain.  The fifth is Flicker again, thinking:  “Too bright!  Too bright!” 

The sixth is a giant’s thoughts:  “I’m getting beaten up by something… little… and… oh, my boots are muddy!”

“That would be _confusion_,” says Ernie.

The seventh and eighth thoughts are also giantish and unhelpful.  (One is “I…uh…uh… I… ow!”  The other is “I’m gonna KILL that little thing!  I’m gonna smash him into the ground!  I’m gonna…”)

The ninth is Flicker again.  And that’s it for today.

“I wonder what would happen if I picked up a thought of myself casting _thought capture,_” Morningstar muses aloud.

“Your head would explode!” says Ernie.

“I think you’re onto something,” says Morningstar to Dranko.  “A little helmet that would keep Flicker’s thoughts from leaking out might be a good thing to have.”

Flicker looks incensed.

“Don’t be angry,” says Dranko.  “It’s nothing personal.”

“It’s just that we often want to _thought capture_ near doors after you’ve worked on them,” says Aravis.

Everyone has by now moved off to one edge of the courtyard, standing under one of the wide balconies.  

“Anybody hungry?” asks Ernie.

“Yeah, food would be nice,” says Grey Wolf.

“Nothing like being electrocuted to give you an appetite,” adds Dranko.

Ernie starts preparations for a meal.   The others sit down on the damp grass beneath the overhang, chatting.

“Do you think we already know the password?” muses Morningstar.  “Some word or phrase we’ve heard before?”

“We might,” says Grey Wolf.  “It might be something the Eyes have told us.”

“Did Eigomic say who gave him the key?” asks Dranko.

“Wasn’t it the Keeper before him?” says Aravis.

Several heads nod.   Dranko lights a cigar, then motions with it toward the tower.

“Cause if no one’s come out of there for some time, that tells us something different than if somebody shows up every few months, or ten years.”

“Eigomic, here is your shiny new key,” says Ernie in falsetto, pretending to be a Black Circle priest.

“We had to change the lock…” adds Aravis.

“…’Cause some adventuring group got in,” finishes Ernie.

“I wonder what Eigomic would do if something like that happened?” says Morningstar.

“He’d summon the beholder,” says Kibi.  “That’s why he was so confused after we killed it.  He’s lost his purpose.”

“I’d guess the password is _not_ something Black Circle related,” says Aravis.  “Remember, they were trying to hide from the Black Circle as well.”

“Let’s take a minute to ponder the craziness of what we’re saying here,” says Ernie.  “We want to get into a building that was _too evil_ for the Black Circle!”

Talk turns to the plan of Morningstar’s _thought captures_.  Despite today’s failure, there still seems to be no better solution than to repeat the process tomorrow. 

“I’ve got to be honest,” says Aravis.  “I’ve got a feeling this plan is doomed to failure.  Besides, we’ve done it before.  We can do better!”

“Like what?” says Kibi skeptically.

“How?” adds Ernie.  “I’m waiting for suggestions on ‘better,’ because I’m all out of ‘better.’  All I’ve got is ‘mediocre.’  And some soup.”

“You have soup?” asks Grey Wolf, perking up.

“Well, I’m starting the soup.  It’ll take a while for the jerky to soften.”

Another period of silence follows while Ernie stirs the pot.  Everyone broods on the problem at hand.

“I can cast _knock_ on the tower,” says Aravis, without much optimism.

Several heads turn to look at Aravis, to see if he’s joking or not.  Morningstar snorts.

“Not only is the tower concealed, and not only is the door locked, but there were giants guarding it, and the key was concealed, and that wasn’t even the _real_ key…”

“If you try it, I’m standing far back,” says Ernie.

Aravis gets to his feet and walks carefully of the center of the courtyard.  He’s fully healed up and further fortified with an _endurance_.   At his request Flicker puts the key in the lock and turns it, causing a soft whitish glow to emanate from the invisible doorway.  Then Flicker scurries away and Aravis steps forward.  With one hand on the key, he casts _knock_.

FOOM!

As when he tried the _passwall_, light floods the area around the tower.  Aravis is blown backward, his flesh seared with magical energy.  He lands painfully on his back, gasping in pain and choking on the sleet that pours into his mouth.

The tower looks no different.  Aravis picks himself up and shuffles back to the group for healing.  No one says anything.

More minutes pass.   Ernie starts ladling soup into bowls and passing them around.

“Drosh,” shouts Dranko at the tower.

“Open sesame!” shouts Kibi.  “Abra Cadabra!”

Aravis says “Ionarb Teh”

They pull out some of their written notes on the subject of the Hets while they eat, searching for promising proper names.

“Insulati!” says Kibi.

“Surgoil!” says Dranko.  “Last of Five!”

Ernie recites the names of the other four Hets:  “Chanob!  Kai Kin!  Shirfin!  Runnel!”

Nothing happens.

“The question is,” says Ernie between spoonfuls, “Is this Het still sought by the Black Circle? In this alternate timeline, are they still _too evil_ for the Black Circle?”

“Hm,” says Aravis.  “Hadn’t thought of that.”

“For that matter,” continues Ernie, “The Eye is in Het Branoi in _our_ world…”

“…but the Eye might not even be in there in this one,” finishes Morningstar.

“That would be unacceptable,” says Grey Wolf flatly, and everyone is inclined to agree.

Next up is a thorough review of Step’s poem from his church in Djaw, in the hopes that it will reveal something useful.

“Sharshun!” guesses Kibi.

“Naloric!  Naradawk!” shouts Ernie.

“Open the friggin’ door, sock monkey!” tries Dranko.

“I don’t think Edghar likes that kind of talk,” says Ernie, glancing at Grey Wolf.

“I can always have the last laugh,” thinks Edghar to his master.  “_He’s_ not likely to take a poop where _I’m_ sleeping, if you catch my drift.”

“Don’t count on it,” warns Grey Wolf.

The Company reviews their recent conversation with the dead beholder.

“Garlang!” says Kibi.  “Zoya!  Garlang and Zoya!”

“We could bang our heads against the tower until it opens,” says Morningstar.

“If only we hadn’t killed the beholder, Morningstar could cast _memory read,_" says Flicker.

“See?  I _told_ you we shouldn’t kill it,” says Morningstar, laughing despite her frustration.

“Your judgement was impaired,” Grey Wolf points out.

“I could raise it from the dead,” says Morningstar.

“Giants coming,” says Kay over the mindlink.  “Four of them.  Eigomic’s coming back.”

Soon after this warning Eigomic’s deep voice booms from the northern entrance to the courtyard.

“Hello!  I’m coming in!”

He marches in with three giants in tow.

“We’ve come for the body of the Floating Master,” he says gravely. 

Morningstar stands up and walks to stand near the dead beholder.  Kibi goes with her to act as translator.   She looks up at Eigomic.

“If it were possible to bring the Floating Master back to life, would you allow it?” she asks.

The giantish Keeper frowns, and gives Morningstar a long, questioning look.

“You can do that?” he asks.

“I may be able to,” says Morningstar.

“For what purpose would you bring back the Floating Master?” asks Eigomic, his eyes narrowing.

“To get into the tower,” says Morningstar simply.

“What would become of the Floating Master after he had gotten you into the tower?”

“That would depend on whether he attacked us again or not,” says Morningstar.

“Given that you killed him the last time,” says Eigomic, “how would you stop him from trying to attack you when he sees you?  It’s what I would do if I were him.”

“Maybe he’ll think, boy, I don’t want to die again,” says Dranko, walking over to join them.

“He may be smart enough not to fight again,” says Morningstar.

“We’d prefer not to kill anyone,” adds Ernie.

Eigomic rubs his chin with his hand.  The other three giants fidget uncomfortably.

“I wish to meditate upon my answer,” says Eigomic.

“That is fair,” says Morningstar.

“He’ll be casting _augury_” mutters Dranko.

“When do you want an answer?” asks Eigomic.

“How many times have you met the Floating Master?” Dranko interrupts.

“I have seen him once,” says Eigomic, taken a bit off guard.

“Did it chat with you?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“Never!”

“Did you receive the key from your predecessor?” asks Morningstar.

“Yes,” says Eigomic.

“Who did he receive it from?” asks Dranko.

“I assume that the former Keeper received it from the Keeper before him,” says Eigomic impatiently.  “And so on, back to when the Floating Master gave it to the first Keeper.  That was before my birth.”

“How long ago was that?” asks Ernie.

“Hundreds of years,” rumbles the Keeper.

“Are there any journals or notebooks that the previous Keepers kept?” asks Morningstar.

“No,” says Eigomic.

“Any spoken lore passed down from the previous Keepers?” prods Dranko.

“None that involves access to the interior of the statue,” growls Eigomic.

“No mystic hoo-hahs, or sayings… that sort of thing?” presses Dranko.

“No!” says Eigomic.  “I assume that you are trying to find out yet again if I have the password or not.  I told you before that I did not.  And if I remember correctly, you were able to detect lies when I said so.”

“But you might not have been aware of it, which would mean you weren’t lying,” says Ernie.

“Not that we’re accusing you of lying,” adds Dranko hastily.

“And not that it would matter,” says Morningstar under her breath.  Then, to the giant, she says, “Are there any creatures other than the Floating Master and the previous Keeper that you were supposed to respect or serve?”

“The chieftain of the town,” says Eigomic.  “Tegmannic.  I am beholden only to the words of Tegmannic, and the Floating Master.”

“Who never talked to you…” says Dranko.

“Yes,” says Eigomic, glowering down at the half-orc.  “I think this conversation is at an end.”

“There is a spell I can use to keep the Floating Master’s body from decaying,” says Morningstar.  “May I use that?”

“Yes, I will allow that,” says Eigomic.  He and his entourage start to leave.  But he turns around in the archway and adds:  “If your attempt to bring the Floating Master back from the dead fails, I will take his body for burial.  No more games.”

He strides out of the courtyard.  Morningstar casts _gentle repose_ on the sopping corpse of the beholder.

Ernie watches the giant depart, then turns to Kibi.

“Kibi, you’re the Opener.  Can’t you open it?”

“I think Kibi’s Opener status refers to something else,” says Aravis.

But Kibi is right fed up by this time with the day’s lack of progress.  

“Flicker, go turn the key in the lock.  Morningstar, I’d like a _shield other_ please.”

The others do as he asks.

He stalks out into the center of the courtyard.   Making sure he retains constant contact with the ground, he takes a running charge directly at the door.  

BONK!

He bounces off the cold hard surface of the doorway, slips on the slick ground and falls backward.  His head strikes the ice with a crack.  He’s out cold.

“There’s the mighty Opener right there,” says Dranko, wincing.  

A few seconds later Kibi regains consciousness.  He struggles to his feet and puts his hands on the door, thinking “Opening” thoughts.  

“Soup’s here!” he shouts at the door.   “Reeeeeeeally good soup!  Just on the other side of this door!”

“Knocked himself silly,” says Morningstar, shaking her head.

Dranko has sudden brainstorm; since _detect magic_ works while the Divination Sinks are turned away, perhaps they can now use _find the path_ to determine the password.  (Previous _find the path_ spells may have been foiled by the Sinks…)  But then they realize that the location is probably in another plane, which would preclude that particular divination from working.  Another idea, shot down in flames.

By nightfall the sleet has finally stopped falling.  The Company finds some dry-ish patches beneath the balconies and goes to sleep. 

* *

The next day dawns clear and cold.   Morningstar leaves all of her spell slots empty, intending to fill them a few at a time with _thought captures_.

Dranko casts an _augury_:  *Will Morningstar’s use of the spell find the path to learn the password into the tower bring us weal or woe?”*

The answer comes back to him after a long silence, and the one word echoes faintly in his mind:  *Irrelevant*.

“It means it ain’t gonna work,” says Dranko.  “Stupid planar hoo-hah.”  

In a high whiny voice he adds:  “Oh, I have to build my home on another plane.  Oh, I’m not good enough for _this_ plane.  Oh, the universe doesn’t reject _me_…”

He sees that everyone else is staring at him.

“Never mind,” he mumbles.

Ernie casts his own _divination_:  *Will we do well if we use thought capture multiple times to find the password?*  The answer, again after an unusually long delay:  *“The answer is Corilayna’s business.”*

“What the hell?” asks Grey Wolf, when Ernie announces Yondalla’s reply.

“I think that means it will work, with luck,” says Ernie.

“We might as well go for it then” says Dranko.  “I’m out of options, myself.  If I can’t pick its pocket, and I can’t whip its eye out, I’m pretty much at a loss.”

“You haven’t tried licking it yet,” points out Flicker.

“Oooh.  You know what I haven’t tried yet?” says Dranko.  “I haven’t cast _know age_ on the tower.”

“You haven’t tried licking it yet,” says Morningstar.  “Dranko, that’s great!”

“He’s a recovering lick-o-holic,” says Ernie, smirking.

“I wonder what ancient towers taste like?” Dranko muses out loud.

“I’ll bet your tongue would get stuck to it in this cold,” says  Kibi.

“O-kaaaaaaaay,” says Morningstar, walking over to stand before the tower.  “Here I go.”

She starts casting _thought captures_.

The first four pick up thoughts from either Flicker or giants. 

The fifth thought is of someone thinking, very distinctly,  “Knowledge, Power, Eternity.”

Excitedly Morningstar says this out loud.

The illusion of the beholder statue drops, leaving the tower unobscured.

There is a Company-wide sigh of disappointment.

“Well, that’s something,” says Grey Wolf.

Flicker tries the key again with the illusion down.  There’s no difference at all.  Dranko utters the phrase a second time and the illusion springs back into being.  He tries the words in different orders but nothing else interesting happens.  Then he backs away to stop polluting the area with his thoughts.

Morningstar’s sixth _thought capture_ collects a thought of Dranko thinking:  “Eternity, Power, Knowledge.  Dang, didn’t work.”

Fourteen more _thought captures_  reveal nothing new: thoughts of Flicker, thoughts of giants, another thought of the illusion-setting password.  But Morningstar’s got more where those came from.  She prays for fifteen more minutes and starts again.

She gets five more thoughts, four of Flicker, and one of One Certain Step thinking:  “Ooof!  Those clubs hurt!”

The sixth thought of the new batch is the most maddening of all.  Clearly she picks up someone thinking  “I cannot remember the password.”

So close!  She relays this thought to the others.  There is a collective groan.

There is a collective pause.

It occurs to Kibi and Aravis at about the same time.  As Kibi gets to his feet Aravis walks over to stand directly next to the tower door and in a clear voice, annunciating every syllable succinctly, he says:

“I cannot remember the password.”

The invisible door begins to hum.  Flicker puts the key in the lock and turns it.  A bright reddish glow shines out.

Celebration* ensues.

…to be continued…

* this included players throwing bread rolls at the DM.


----------



## thatdarncat

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> * this included players throwing bread rolls at the DM. *




Bread rolls? Not dice?  Can't blame them though!


----------



## Seule

Okay, that was officially evil.  They are WAY too paranoid.

  --Seule


----------



## KidCthulhu

The very worst part was the beholder telling us the password, and his little deathly chuckle when we singularly failed to get it.

Sagiro is a bad, bad man.


----------



## Galfridus

There's nothing as useless as a lock with a voice print...


----------



## Kaodi

*Time*

How long did it take you guys in real time to figure out that the password was, " I cannot remember the password. " ?


----------



## Piratecat

2-3 hours... and thus the flung bread rolls.

Jerk!


----------



## Sagiro

Galfridus said:
			
		

> *There's nothing as useless as a lock with a voice print... *



*goggle*

Not only do I get the reference, but this was my original inspiration for the password idea!

(I think the quote, from Cardinal Borusa, was:  "There is nothing more useless than a lock with a voice imprint."  For those of you not among the cognoscenti, it's a quote from an old Dr. Who episode titled "The Invasion of Time.")

-Sagiro


----------



## StevenAC

Sagiro said:
			
		

> "For that matter," continues Ernie, "The Eye is in Het Branoi in our world..."
> 
> "...but the Eye might not even be in there in this one," finishes Morningstar.
> 
> "That would be unacceptable," says Grey Wolf flatly, and everyone is inclined to agree.




Was everyone looking _straight at the DM_ when Grey Wolf said this? 



> "I cannot remember the password."
> 
> The invisible door begins to hum. Flicker puts the key in the lock and turns it. A bright reddish glow shines out.
> 
> Celebration* ensues.
> 
> * this included players throwing bread rolls at the DM.




*_helpless laughing for a full five minutes_*

Sagiro, in the immortal words of Arnold Rimmer:

*"You are a total, total -- a word has yet to be invented to describe how totally whatever it is you are, but you are one, and a total, total one at that."* 

I think I would have thrown dice, not bread rolls.  _And_ they would have all been d4s, too.

Having a transcription of the actual dialogue for an episode like this was brilliant -- it vividly shows what must have been the satisfying suffering the players went through. 


By the way, the Collected Story Hour is now complete up to Part Ten, the point where the world changed -- something which I _thought_ was the ultimate act of RBDM-ness.  Little did I know...


----------



## StevenAC

Sagiro said:
			
		

> (I think the quote, from Cardinal Borusa, was:  "There is nothing more useless than a lock with a voice imprint."  For those of you not among the cognoscenti, it's a quote from an old Dr. Who episode titled "The Invasion of Time.")




Ah yes, the one where the Doctor spearheads an invasion of his own planet by telepathic sheets of tinfoil... 

_"Even the sonic screwdriver won't get me out of this one..."_

(Incidentally, the idea of somebody crafting Flicker a _tinfoil hat of mind shielding_ to prevent him messing up Morningstar's _thought capture_s is not entirely without merit...)


----------



## Galfridus

Mea culpa for insufficiently googling the quote. 

I will definitely have to yoink that idea for my game. I am surprised, though, that no one tried "Corilayna?s business"...


----------



## Zaruthustran

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *The very worst part was the beholder telling us the password, and his little deathly chuckle when we singularly failed to get it.
> 
> Sagiro is a bad, bad man. *




_Dude._ 

So the question is, did Sagiro have that password prepared beforehand, or did he just chose to use "I forgot the password" when he realized that a simple Speak With Dead was going to foil his plan?

-z


----------



## Sagiro

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Dude.
> 
> So the question is, did Sagiro have that password prepared beforehand, or did he just chose to use "I forgot the password" when he realized that a simple Speak With Dead was going to foil his plan?
> 
> -z *



It's the former, I assure you.   Just ask *Dr. Rictus*, with whom I shared my devious plan weeks before the game in question.

In fact (and I know I risk more bread rolls by admitting this), I was kind of hoping they'd cast _speak with dead_ for this very reason!  

-Sagiro


----------



## porthos

*Congrats!*



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Sorry about the long delay!  Planning a wedding takes up a lot of time, so updates will probably be sporadic for the next couple of months.*




Congrats on the gettin' hitched! I hope you're lucky enough to marry a gamer. I did and it has been a great part of our relationship - and you're the envy of all your single, male gamer friends.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I hereby award Sagiro a full 20 RBDM points for that one. You evil, evil, evil man.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 192*_


For a hushed moment everyone in the Company just stares at the tower.   It’s been over two years since the Eyes of Moirel first spoke the words “Het Branoi” through Eddings.  Now it stands before them, open at last, beckoning.  

“I cannot remember the password,” says Dranko.  

The humming stops and the ruddy glow flips back to a serene white.

Softly, Aravis says, “If I ever find someone involved with the making of this tower, I’m going beat the HELL out them.”  

Dranko vents his frustration by giving the dead beholder a swift kick.

“Thank the Gods you thought of that,” Dranko says to Aravis.

“Well,” says Aravis, “you know I _am_ a wizard.  I only had to get hit over the head with the answer three or four times before it came to me.”

“It was like a bolt of lightning shot through you, wasn’t it?” says Dranko.

“Let it go,” says Flicker, shaking his head.  “Let it go.”

Morningstar takes a few steps back from the glowing doorway.

“We’re about to go in the tower that’s so evil that even the Black Circle kicked them out of the club” she says.  “And like I said, we don’t _know_ for certain that we even need to get in there.  We’re just assuming.”

That leads into a few minutes of discussion about gathering info via a _commune_ spell.  Most of the party is pretty certain that the Eye of Moirel is within this hidden tower, but Morningstar and some others want to be absolutely sure.  

“We can always go through the door, cast _locate object_, and if it’s in the building, we’ll know,” says Ernie.  “If not, we come right back out.”

He scratches his head and takes a bite of bread.  “Although it could be weird and multi-planar in there, I guess,” he adds.

And _that_ kicks off more talk, this time about what the interior of Het Branoi – assuming that’s what this is – might be like.   Their intelligence from Djaw indicates it’s larger on the inside than the outside, which seems eminently logical given its small exterior dimension.  But is the interior a demi-plane?  Or does the doorway simply teleport people to somewhere else entirely?  There’s no way to know without taking the plunge.

Dranko points out idly that no one has entered or exited the tower for decades, as far as the giants know.   Morningstar again notes that in the new time-line, the Eye of Moirel may never have even been taken inside.  Aravis speculates that the Eyes may not have been affected by the time change, though he admits it’s just a theory.

Everyone agrees that they should wait until tomorrow before going inside.

“I don’t want to go in there with Morningstar only at half strength,” says Aravis, noting that most of her spells have been cast as _thought captures._

“Yeah,” says Dranko with a snort.  “If she gets charmed, she’ll barely be able to kill us all.”

Everyone laughs.  The tension and frustration everyone had felt since the world changed had been building up to an almost intolerable pitch, but with the discovery of the password, much of that has drained away, leaving an air of giddy relief and vague hilarity in its stead.  But Morningstar doesn’t’ lose her head, and there’s no point in taking chances.  She prays for a few minutes for the prayer of _commune_ and then she casts it.

It’s another few minutes before she feels the connection with the agents of her Goddess.  The link is faint and tenuous.  She asks her first question.

_Do we need to enter the tower in order to complete our mission to restore the universe?_

There is a long delay before each distant answer comes to her mind.

*I believe so*

_Will we find an Eye of Moirel within the tower?_

*I don’t know*

Realizing that the inherent wards on the tower might be hindering her divination, she changes her wording.

_Is there en Eye of Moirel in the house of Seven Dark Words?_

*Again, I don’t know.*

_Is this the house of Seven Dark words?_

*Yes.*

This answer brings great relief.

“Yay for prophecies being correct despite world-changing events!” says Ernie.

_Does the Black Circle know we are entering the tower?_

*I don’t know.*

The answers grow more faint, more hollow.

_Have we completed all the steps that are needed to open the tower?_

*Yes*

“Thank you for your wisdom, Dark Lady,” says Morningstar, bowing her head.  The thin connection with the heavens is gone.

The rest of the day is spent in discussion of what spells they should collectively prepare for tomorrow’s planned excursion.  Grey Wolf wants boom, boom, and more boom.  Morningstar leans toward trap-removal and countermeasures.  

“I’m going to prepare to make myself into a combat machine,” says Ernie.  “I never successfully _dispel_ anything, anyway.”

That leads the Company to start reminiscing about the Black Circle bestiary, where Morningstar successfully _dispelled_ a powerful trap that they all thought was beyond any of their power to destroy. 

“That was your first adventure with us, wasn’t it, Grey Wolf?” says Flicker.

Grey Wolf looks pained.

“I remember when you cast _flaming sphere_ in the methane-filled cave with the big stink-wiggle,” Flicker continues.

“And wasn’t that where you hit yourself with your own _lightning bolt_?” says Kibi, grinning.

Grey Wolf harrumphs and becomes absorbed in his spell-books.

The only interruption comes when Eigomic returns around mid-day.  He announces that he will _not_ allow the beholder to be raised from the dead.  The Company makes no attempt to hinder him as he and three other giants haul away the body.

* *

After a hurried breakfast the next morning, everyone is ready for action.  Spells are prepared, buffs are applied, and they line up outside the door behind Flicker.  

He puts in the key and turns it.  

He says “I cannot remember the password.”

The door starts to hum, and it glows with a strong  blue light.

Blue?

“Knowledge, power, eternity,” says Dranko.  The illusion winks out, but the light is still blue.

“Oh, sh*t,” says Aravis.

They try every possible combination of orderings for putting in the key and uttering the two passwords.

Still blue.

“Crap!” says Dranko.

“Blue’s better than red, isn’t it?” says Grey Wolf hopefully.

“Blue is most definitely worse than red,” says Dranko bitterly.

“I was happier with red,” Aravis agrees.

“Why?” asks Grey Wolf.

“I mean, I was happier with whatever color it was yesterday,” says Aravis. 

Dranko nods.  The implication is clear:  someone in the tower, realizing it was about to be breached by outsiders, has changed something about the doorway.  That can’t be a good sign.

Ernie casts a quick _augury_.

_Will walking forward into the blue light bring us weal or woe?_ he asks.

There is no answer.

“Yondalla didn’t say anything,” says Ernie sullenly.

The glow changes color.  In an eyeblink it has gone from blue to a pale spring green.

“That could be _prismatic_" says Grey Wolf, pointing at the doorway.  “This is not a good thing.”

“I don’t think it’s going in the right order,” says Aravis.  All three wizards spend some time scrutinizing the glow coming from the doorway.   None of them is powerful enough to cast from the set of prismatics, but it’s a common topic of study at most guilds.  They conclude that whatever is going on with the door, it’s not a _prismatic wall_ or anything like it.  Kibi’s pretty sure it’s some kind of portal.

“Green means go,” says Dranko.  “Let’s just go in.”

Flicker takes a deep breath and jumps into the green light.  He vanishes.  Dranko follows.  Then Aravis.  It’s still the same green color as Ernie, last in line, steps through the doorway.  

As each member of the Company crosses the threshold, they feel _pulled_ in, as something draws them to a dark, cold void.  For a second there is a lurching feeling as if they are traveling a long way in a short time.  Flicker stumbles out, into a forest.

A forest?

He’s not in a clearing, though the woods are sparse.  Behind him, amid the trees and suspended in the air, hangs a shimmering curtain of blue light slightly larger than the tower’s doorway.  It ripples like cloth in the breeze, sparkling as it moves, with speckles of white light playing along the brilliant blue surface.

Kibi steps out of the curtain, the bottom of which is only about six inches off the ground.  He looks around in surprise.  One by one the members of the Company emerge from the curtain into the woods, weapons drawn, expecting an ambush.

Birds sing in the trees overhead.   Chipmunks scurry through the undergrowth.  Around them the forest filters the sunlight into a pale green color like the one seen from the giants’ courtyard.   The sky through the trees is a faint blue.  

The sun is orange.

“I wonder,” says Kibi, “if we had gone through when the light was blue, if we would have landed in the ocean?”

The ground is solid beneath the dwarf’s feet.  His connection with the earth is solid and strong.  A strange feeling starts to come over him.

Ssssszzzzzzzzz.  The blue curtain goes rigid.  As the Company watches it glides off to the left, growing narrower as if it’s sliding into an invisible slot.  In less than three seconds it is gone.  Beyond it is more forest, stretching as far as the eye can see.

Ernie instinctively marks a nearby rock with a piece of chalk.  Step looks around nervously.

“I am going to die here,” he says, his voice low.

“No you’re not, Step,” says Ernie.  “We were _supposed_ to betray Grey Wolf, and we didn’t, and _he_ didn’t die.”

“And it’s not like we didn’t try,” adds Dranko.

“Why do you think you’re going to die here?” asks Morningstar.

“I read it in the prophecy.  In the poem that led me to you.  ‘Go with them to your certain doom,’ it said.

“I meant, why do you think you’re going to die _here,_ says Morningstar.

“Oh.  Well, I don’t expect to die in this forest,” says Step, smiling in spite of himself.

“I appreciate you’re willing to sacrifice so much for the cause,” says Ernie, “but we don’t want you to die, and we’re going to make sure you don’t.  So don’t get all depressed and… and sacrifice-y.”

Step nods.  

“But if I have to,” he adds, “I hope you do not try to stop me.”

“Well, as long as you don’t go trying to sacrifice yourself all the time…” says Ernie.

“I won’t look for trouble,” promises Step.  “I expect it will find me.”

Flicker is staring at Kibi.  The dwarf is standing very still, feet on the ground, one hand pressed to a tree.  There is… power… running all through his body.  It’s coursing through his being, from the ground, the trees, even from the air around him.  To everyone’s surprise he tries sprinting into the forest, thinking it might be affecting him physically, but he moves no faster than usual.   He comes jogging back, oblivious to the stares of the others.

“I like this place,” he says.

“Because it makes you run around through the trees?” asks Morningstar, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t you feel it?” asks Kibi.  “This place is all… hummy, like it’s full of energy.”

No one else feels a thing.

“I’ve got gas,” says Dranko.  “Does that count?”

“No,” says Kibi curtly.

Scree sinks into the ground.  

“I feel… powerful!” he thinks to Kibi.  When the earth elemental emerges, its body starts to rattle and vibrate.  Its voice… no, the _other_ voice… sounds clearly in Kibi’s head.

“*This place is like the Greenhouse.  You are no longer in need of our protection.*”

In his normal voice Scree adds, “Oh my goodness, did you hear that?”

“Yes,” says Kibi, startled.  “That wasn’t you, was it?”

“No,” says Scree.

“The Eyes just spoke,” Kibi tells the others.  “They said this place is like the Greenhouse and we’re no longer in need of their protection.”

“Thank you for protecting us, Eyes,” says Kibi, addressing the body of his familiar.

Ernie keeps the belt on, just in case.

“Hey Eyes,” he says, “What color is your brother who’s here?”

“They just don’t understand,” thinks Scree to Kibi.  “The Eyes don’t talk with people.   And I’m not them.”

It’s a mild afternoon, the temperature in the 60’s, which feels like summer after the days camped in chilly Surgoil.  A light breeze whispers through the wood.  Squirrels chitter high in the branches.  It’s maybe an hour before noon.

Dranko wonders aloud if Eigomic might follow them here.  After all, no one stayed behind to lock up.  But the blue curtain is gone.  Does that mean Eigomic simply closed up the tower and took back the key?

“And maybe the color will have changed again if he tries,” says Kibi.

Kay and Oa Lyanna cast _fly_ and head upward above the treetops, looking for signs of civilization.   There are only more trees as far as she can see in all directions.   The rest of the group hears a brief twittering of bird noises as Kay casts _speak with animals_ and converses with a passing crow.  A few minutes later she comes down and reports.

“The birds here have seen creatures that look like us.   They live in that direction.”

She points westward (she thinks) into the woods.

“It was hard to get a sense of scale from the bird, but I guess we’re some hours away on foot.  I think we should get moving.”

With Kay and Dranko leading the way, the Company tromps off into the forest.   High above the trees, the orange sun sends its rays down through the leaves.

…to be continued…


----------



## thatdarncat

more, more more more!!!!


----------



## Sagiro

Dear readers,

If you could, please go to this poll and vote for one of the choices therein.  I'd greatly appreciate the feedback.

Thanks!

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

Ah, a visit to a bucolic forest, full of chirping birds, frolicsome squirrels and dappled sunlight. 

You just know something truly horrific is waitin' for us, don'tcha?


----------



## Alomir

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *You just know something truly horrific is waitin' for us, don'tcha? *



I think many of us are *counting* on something truly horrific to be waiting for you, and will be disappointed if it doesn't rear its cute little head eventually...


----------



## Piratecat

*Re: Congrats!*



			
				porthos said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Congrats on the gettin' hitched! I hope you're lucky enough to marry a gamer.  *




He's marrying Kibi! Err - I mean he and Kibi are getting married. No, wait - he and Kibi's _player_, who also plays Mara the paladin in my game, are getting married.

Phew.

And Scree is a bridesmaid.


----------



## StevenAC

*Re: Re: Congrats!*



			
				Piratecat said:
			
		

> He's marrying Kibi! Err - I mean he and Kibi are getting married. No, wait - he and Kibi's _player_, who also plays Mara the paladin in my game, are getting married.




So, did he give her any beer?


----------



## Fade

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *Ah, a visit to a bucolic forest, full of chirping birds, frolicsome squirrels and dappled sunlight.
> 
> You just know something truly horrific is waitin' for us, don'tcha? *




May I suggest you burn it down? Smoke them out before they attack you?


----------



## Piratecat

Sagiro birthday thread!


----------



## StevenAC

> "We all get blasted backward and suffer great pain," says Ernie.
> 
> "Really?" answers Dranko. "I wonder what _that's_ like."  Grey Wolf rolls his eyes.
> 
> . . .
> 
> "It was like a bolt of lightning shot through you, wasn't it?" says Dranko.
> 
> "Let it go," says Flicker, shaking his head.  "Let it go."
> 
> . . .
> 
> "And wasn't that where you hit yourself with your own _lightning bolt_?" says Kibi, grinning.
> 
> Grey Wolf harrumphs and becomes absorbed in his spell-books.



I can see poor Grey Wolf is going to end up with a nervous twitch every time _lightning bolt_ is even _mentioned_...


----------



## StevenAC

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Ah, a visit to a bucolic forest, full of chirping birds, frolicsome squirrels and dappled sunlight.
> 
> You just know something truly horrific is waitin' for us, don'tcha?



The Company hasn't had much luck with forests, have they?  Watch out for those weresquirrels...  

Still, while they're waiting for the other shoe to drop, they could always take advantage of this pastoral interlude to review their long list of things to do, like this:

(Having done a song for Ernie, I thought I'd see if I could throw one together that would fit Dranko, and this just... sort of happened...  
Once again, apologies to the ghost of Sir W.S. Gilbert...  if you feel like singing along, click here  )

DRANKO:
As some day it may happen that we've nothing else to do,
We've got a little list -- We've got a little list
Of the foes who've pissed us off and who are evil through and through,
And who never would be missed -- who never would be missed!
There's a bestiary of monsters held in boxes near Verdshane,
With tentacles and claws and other things to cause us pain.
In Kivia there's still a great big army of undead,
And Shreen the Fair unnerved us there -- he needs to feel some dread.
Toward the Guild of Chains we are emancipationist --
They'd none of 'em be missed -- they'd none of 'em be missed!

THE COMPANY:
We've got 'em on the list -- we've got 'em on the list;
And they'll none of 'em be missed -- they'll none of 'em be missed!

DRANKO:
There's that blue-winged ogre "Great One" and the others of his race,
Who revere the Bloody Fist -- I've got him on the list!
And that frikkin' Parthol Runecarver who never shows his face,
He never would be missed -- he never would be missed!
Then those extraplanar fighters in red armor have to go,
That's Meledien, Octesian and Tarsos (that we know);
And the irritating Farazil, that bodysnatching pest
(Though for now we have a truce with him that saves him from arrest);
Ah, but with the Evil Baker we just cannot coexist;
I don't think he'll be missed -- I'm sure he'll not be missed!

THE COMPANY:
We've got him on the list -- we've got him on the list;
And we don't think he'll be missed -- we're sure he won't be missed!

DRANKO:
But before they get their turn we have to fix our history
(For the Sharshun we dismissed -- we've moved them up the list!);
Blood foxes and beholders and damned electricity --
They'll none of 'em be missed -- they'll none of 'em be missed!
When we've tracked them down and dealt with them -- the ones who did this crime,
We'll defeat the hopes of Naradawk a third and final time.
And then it's home to celebrate -- with Charagan restored,
It's back to whittling down our foes with magic and the sword;
See, it really doesn't matter how extensive grows the list,
For they'll none of 'em be missed -- they'll none of 'em be missed!

THE COMPANY:
We shall cross 'em off the list -- we shall cross 'em off the list;
And they'll none of 'em be missed -- they'll none of 'em be missed!


----------



## Fade

Wonderful!



			
				StevenAC said:
			
		

> We'll defeat the hopes of Naradawk a third and *final* time.




I wouldn't advise the Company to count on this.


----------



## KidCthulhu

StephenAC, you are the very bestest.  Can I make a request?  How about a setting of "I have a song to sing-o" from Yeoman?


----------



## StevenAC

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> StephenAC, you are the very bestest.  Can I make a request?  How about a setting of "I have a song to sing-o" from Yeoman?



I grabbed the words and music of this song from the G & S Archive.  I listened to it.  Then I listened to it several more times.  Wow.  What a lovely piece of work.

(I may have given the impression of being a G&S aficionado, but actually I'm only really familiar with _The Mikado_ and _The Pirates of Penzance_.  I can see that's going to have to change...  )

I don't know if I can do it justice (it seems to me it calls for something a bit deeper than simple patter-parody), but I've got an idea that might work.  I'll have a shot and we'll see what happens...


----------



## dpdx

You do realize you're only stoking the fires for _Sagiro's Story Hour, the Musical_, don't you, Steven? If they're not going to credit you in the playbill, at least insist on complementary tickets to the opening.

Now all that remains is to determine whether the Lowell Community Playhouse is off^17-Broadway, or off^18...


----------



## porthos

dpdx said:
			
		

> *You do realize you're only stoking the fires for Sagiro's Story Hour, the Musical, don't you, Steven?*




Oh, I can see it now. Sorta like "Once More, With Feeling", the Buffy musical. Steven, eventually you'll have to release a songbook, CD and DVD special just for the fans!


----------



## Kaodi

*Portal*

I must say that the colour changing portal really worries me. I would hate to think that they just stepped into a random setting that may/may not contain what they are searching for. The Eyes saying what they did makes it a little better, but still... hehehe...


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 193*_

It’s a beautiful afternoon. 

Kay is fifty feet out in front, scanning the woods for signs of human habitation.  The others trail warily along, full of mistrust despite the gentle breeze and harmless woodland creatures.  For four hours they tromp through the trees while the ground rises gently uphill.  No one is speaking much.   Everyone expects something horrible to happen at any moment.  

Something up ahead flashes through the trees running perpendicular to their route.  It’s a deer, bounding and leaping through the light underbrush.  In just a few seconds it has disappeared again into the forest.   Two human teenagers, one boy and one girl, follow closely in pursuit of the deer.  The Company is still a good twenty or thirty feet away from Kay and the hunters don’t even see her, concentrating instead on their prey.

“Hello!” shouts Kibi, obviating any further need to discuss first-contact procedures.  Morningstar rolls her eyes.

The hunters come to an immediate halt at the sound of the dwarf’s voice.   The boy drops into a crouch while the girl draws her bow.  The party can see they wear simple homespun clothing.  Both have long hair.  Even from this distance the surprise on the hunters’ faces is quite clear.  They whisper to each other briefly.

Morningstar starts casting _detect thoughts_ and Step begins to _detect evil_.  After a few seconds the paladin shakes his head and murmurs, “I detect no evil nearby.”  But before Morningstar can start skimming surface thoughts the two hunters stand and dash away into the woods, shouting “Sa Roha!  Sa Roha!” loudly as they run.   They are soon out of sight, and a few seconds after that the sounds of their cries become swallowed by the forest.

No one moves.  Everyone looks at everyone else.

“That went well,” says Aravis, shaking his head.

At least now Kay has something to track.  The Company sets out again following in the direction of the two teenagers.  

“They’re like the Yuja,” comments Dranko.  “Maybe they’re friendly too.”

Everyone hopes so.

The ground continues its upward slope toward the descending orange sun.  Another hour passes during which the climb gets more and more steep and strenuous.   With maybe an hour still before sunset they crest the hill and find themselves at a steep drop-off, looking down into a lovely valley over a mile across.   At the bottom of the valley is a village, dozens of small and simple buildings nestled in among trees and streams.   Shaved fields speckle the opposite slope.  It looks like between five hundred and a thousand people might live there, though few can be seen at this distance.

No alarm bells are ringing.  No armed soldiery is charging up the hill at them, or waiting in any obvious place down below.  Taking this as a good sign the Company starts to descend along an actual trail that snakes down into the village along a series of switch-backs.

“It looks like a very nice place,” says Ernie nervously.  “I wonder what’s wrong with it?  I mean, you know that some kind of terrible soul-sucking evil awaits us.”

Only half-joking, Morningstar adds:  “Maybe it’s an illusion and there’s a monster waiting down there to eat us.” 

Slowly the Company picks its way down to the valley floor.  They try to look as non-threatening as possible given that they’re armed to the teeth.  Aravis, who carries no weapon, goes in front.  A few minutes later they reach the bottom of the hill and walk toward the little town.  The path they’ve been following slowly widens into a solid dirt road with cart ruts.  Soon they pass buildings off the road – little buildings, houses, something like a general store.  

There are no people out in the streets, but the members of the Company spot figures in the windows of homes, peeking out nervously.  Other than the clanking of the party’s own metal armor and weapons, the only sounds are of birds crying overhead and some distant noises of livestock.    Reaching an unspoken accord the party comes to a slow halt in the middle of the road.  Thinking that they look too threatening for anyone to come talk with them, Ernie unbuckles his sword and lets it drop to the ground.

“You’re surrendering?” murmurs Grey Wolf.

“Shhh… look.”

From between a farmhouse and a closely built shed, maybe fifty feet off the road, a small girl comes walking out.  She looks to be six years old, maybe seven.   Still standing by her house she stops and stares at the Company.  Step _detects evil_, and shakes his head.  

“Hello there!” calls Ernie.

The girl just stands there, a serious and puzzled expression on her face.

Aravis casts _tongues_, but at the sight of his chanting and arm motions the girl turns and flees back behind the house.  He shouts “hello!” after her, but she’s gone.  In other nearby buildings Dranko can see people by their windows whispering to each other.

“We mean you no harm!” calls Aravis, speaking toward the girl’s house.

“Ask if they want any turtle jerky,” says Dranko.  Flicker elbows him in the leg.

“We seek only information,” shouts Aravis.

A small number of people – maybe three or four – appear in the doorways of other houses.    They are looking at each other across the road, and at the Company, and in toward the center of town.  Their expressions are unreadable.  They all look like normal humans.

The young girl walks slowly out of her house (this time emerging from inside) and slowly approaches the Company.  She is unarmed, holding nothing, and stares at them with wide, questioning eyes.   From another doorway across the street an adult male approaches, though more tentatively than the girl.  Other folk of all ages, growing braver, start to emerge from their homes and edge toward them.   A teenager bolts from one of the houses and heads toward the heart of the village.  Dranko sits down on the road to better express his peaceful intentions.  

The girl walks right up to them.

“Hi there!” says Ernie cheerfully.  “My name’s Ernie.”

The girl blinks confusedly at him.

“Hello,” says Aravis.

The girl’s head jerks quickly to face him.

“Hello,” she says gravely.

Ernie digs out a traveling cake and holds it out to her.  “This is tasty and safe,” he says.

She looks curiously at him again, and her expression takes on… annoyance?  Then  she turns back to address Aravis.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“We come from a place very, very far away,” says Aravis.

“But… how can that be?” says the girl.

“Do you have a concept of magic?” asks Aravis.

“Yes. Elder Tog does some magic.”

“We came through a magical doorway,” says Aravis.

“There’s a doorway?  Where?” 

Her eyes widen.  She clearly finds this very interesting.

“It was in the woods,” explains Aravis.  “Shortly after we came through it, it disappeared.”

“We must tell Tog!” exclaims the girl.

The man arrives and nervously says hello.  The six-year-old girl looks up at him, and then back to Aravis.

“Oh, excuse me,” she says, sounding embarrassed.  “My manners.  We are so unaccustomed to strangers.  My name is Del.  What’s yours?”

“I am Aravis.  This is Grey Wolf….”

Aravis goes through introductions for each member of the Company.  Del repeats each name as if committing them to memory.  She glares a bit at Dranko, who makes a face at her as he’s introduced.

“A bit uncouth,” says Aravis in a low voice, “but really quite a nice fellow.”

“What happened to your eyes?” asks Del.

“I have inside my head a very powerful artifact that affects my eyes and skin,” he says simply.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, and I see normally.”

“I’m sorry.  I did not mean to interrupt.”

Aravis finishes up the introductions.   Dranko peers at her curiously.

“Ask her how old she is,” he says to Aravis.

“Do they not speak our language?” asks Del, looking over at Dranko.

“No, they don’t,” says Aravis.

“But you do.”

“When you saw me waving my arms, I was casting a spell that allows me to speak in your tongue.”

“Ah,” says Del brightly.  “Neat.” 

Her eyes twinkle.

“We have not had visitors in many years,” she says.  “Are you part of the Stillness?”

Aravis pauses, wondering to what she refers.

“I’m not aware of what the Stillness is,” he concedes.

“It is what we’re all a part of,” Del says as if explaining to a child.  “It is part of the test.  The examination.”

Aravis repeats all of this to the rest of the party.

“I didn’t study for any test,” says Ernie nervously.

“Then we are not in it,” Aravis tells Del.

The girl absently scratches her side, mulling over what she has just learned.  The Company watches her expectantly.

“You came here through a doorway,” says Del.  “What is on the other side of it?  Does it lead to the rest of Cressella?”

“I don’t know the place Cressella,” says Aravis.

“You’re from beyond?”  Her eyes widen again.

“We come from a land of giants, creatures more than twice our size,” says Aravis.

“We have to take you to Tog,” says Del.  “He will understand these mysteries.”

The older man has been observing this conversation with interest, but has deferred to Del throughout.  Aravis glances at Dranko, at the small crowd that has started to gather nearby.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he says to Del, “how old are you?”

She grimaces as if she’s been expecting this question.

“I’ll turn eighteen in a month,” she says.  “It’s part of the Stillness.”

A larger crowd is approaching from the center of town.  At its head is an old man with a tall gnarled walking stick.   His dress is reminiscent of Eigomic, with furs, beads and feathers.  There are two antlers protruding from the sides of his head, though when he gets closer the Company sees that these are part of a headdress and not an actual anatomical feature.

“That’s him!” says Del excitedly.  “Tog!  Strangers!”

(When Aravis hears “strangers,” the others hear “Sa Roha.”)

Aravis bows before him.

“Greetings,” says Tog, his deep voice old but strong.  “Are you the leader?”

“For the moment, I speak for us,” answers Aravis.

“Tog!  Tog!” says Del.  “They came through a doorway in the forest!”

Elder Tog’s face betrays a rush of emotion at this.  But the old man composes himself quickly and asks:

“Do you need food?  Water?”

“For now we are fine,” says Aravis.

The crowd, over a hundred people in all,  has formed a rough circle around Tog, Del and the Company.  Though much of their attention is bestowed unabashedly on the newcomers, they seem more interested in how Elder Tog is reacting to them.  Dranko notices some children near by and starts playing with a coin, making it dance along his fingers and vanish into his sleeve.  Usually kids find this mesmerizing, but even the youngest children are ignoring him and watching Tog.   A six-month-old baby in her mother’s arms regards him for a moment with a keen, disturbing gaze.

“I must ask,” says Tog to Aravis.  “Are… are you from the Antlered God?”

Aravis thinks for a few seconds before answering.

“I don not believe so.  But I do not rule out the possibility that he has guided our way.”

“Tell me, please, how you came to be here?” asks Tog.

Aravis gives him the condensed version:

“We traveled across a land of giants.  We came across one of their towns where there was a tower.  After fighting against some of the creatures we found the method of opening that tower, and when we stepped through its doorway it took us here.  Shortly after we arrived, the door we walked through seemed to disappear.”

Tog frowns.

“Which direction?”  he asks.  “Can you point to the doorway?”

Aravis points upward in the direction from which they walked.  Tog’s frown deepens.

“I have walked those woods many times.  There is no doorway there.”

“And there is none there now,” says Aravis.

“There are no doorways!”  Tog says loudly, suddenly addressing the crowd as much as Aravis.   They have all been listening intently to the exchange, leaning in and giving one another meaningful looks.  Now they lean back and murmur among themselves.

“I think I should speak with you in private,” says Tog quietly to Aravis.  “My people are not used to strangers. We have not had visitors for some time.”

Aravis relays this to the rest of the Company.

“You want to keep secrets from them,” says Dranko, even though Tog can’t understand him.  “I’m with that.”  

Aravis scowls.

Tog again addresses the throng of townsfolk.  

“People of Green Valley, I must speak to these strangers alone.  Go back to your homes.  They pose no threat.  I will discover what purpose they serve in the Antlered God’s designs.  All will be clear.  I promise this to you.”

He leads the Company through the crowd, which instinctively parts for them.   Morningstar stares at the six-month-old baby, who stares back at her with large unblinking eyes.

“Just imagine,” Morningstar says, half to herself, and as horrified as she is curious.  “Not being able to speak, or communicate, trapped in a baby’s body…”

The crowd slowly disperses as the Company follows Tog.

“My people have not been outside Green Valley,” he says as they walk.  “It is the will of the Antlered God that they should not stray!”  (He says this loudly enough that most of the departing villagers can hear.) 

As they walk he gestures to Kay’s array of weaponry,  and Step’s swords, and then vaguely to everyone else. 

“Do you expect combat?” he asks.  “You are heavily armed.”

“The land we come from is very dangerous,” says Aravis.

“You should not need such things in Green Valley.  We are a peaceful folk.”

The Company passes by small yards, fields, houses, stores, and many shrines to the Antlered God.  Tog’s own house is modest and comfortable.  Once inside they go through another round of introductions, after which Aravis says: 

“You should know, it’s possible that we will be followed.  I don’t know for sure.”

“By what?” asks Tog.

“There are forces, and some specific individuals, who wish to destroy us,” says Aravis matter-of-factly.  “They wish to prevent what we need to accomplish.”

“We are not warriors,” says Tog.  “We have hunters, Aravis, for deer, and to make sure the wolves do not menace us.  We cannot fend off an army.”

“If you do not wish us to stay, we will not,” says Aravis.

Tog looks thoughtful.

“No, I will not send you off.  I need to know where you are in the Antlered God’s designs.”

Outside Tog’s house the sun has finally set behind the mountains.   The ten members of the Company, plus one cat and one monkey, sit closely in the small house.  (Scree has remained hidden in the earth, enjoying the saturation of powerful magics there.)  The windows are open and a cool wind stirs the air.   Tog pours himself a cup of water from a wooden pitcher and takes a long drink.

“Have you… aged?” he asks.

“You mean since we’ve arrived?” answers Aravis.  “We’ve been here such a short time, we have no way to tell.”

“Perhaps it is part of the test,” says Tog, switching thoughts.  “The Antlered God judges us on how we treat you.”

“Why are you being tested?” asks Aravis,

“I don’t know.”

After a half-minute in which no one speaks, but during which Tog seems to be working something out in his head, Aravis asks:

“How old are you?”

“I was sixty-eight when the Stillness began.  I am nearly eighty now.  The Antlered God is watching us, judging us.  He created the Stillness to… get a better look at us, I believe.  That’s what I am calling it: the Stillness.  It has been over eleven years since the Stillness was first observed.  It has been a trying time.  We have not… had traffic from from outside the Valley in all that time.”

Tog takes a deep breath.  He’s made up his mind about something, maybe that the Company is worthy of his trust, or that some hope is close to being fulfilled.  

“Before I continue, I… there are things my people do not know.  There are things that they _should_ not know.  That are dangerous to know.”

Aravis nods his head, and Elder Tog tells his tale.

…to be continued…


----------



## Krellic

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 193
> 
> It’s a beautiful afternoon.
> 
> *




Just as soon as I read that line somehow I knew that the party were in terrible trouble...


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Krellic said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Just as soon as I read that line somehow I knew that the party were in terrible trouble... *




Even worse.  They're _polite_.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Sagiro, you are really taking your time on this one, aren't you? All this politeness, pleasantness, friendly people...

They're going to be screaming for mercy soon.


----------



## Phasmus

A perpetually impressive tale of delightful doom, this.  Ever are we pleased by Sagiro's Story Hour!


----------



## el-remmen

Oh man, you really know how to string us along - there had better be another update soon. . .


----------



## Destil

nemmerle said:
			
		

> *Oh man, you really know how to string us along - there had better be another update soon. . .  *



Uhm.... arn't we caught up, again? That means slow updates


----------



## Sagiro

Destil said:
			
		

> *Uhm.... arn't we caught up, again? That means slow updates  *




Not quite!  We just played again tonight.  The following post will take us up to the start of today's session.  Updates will still be slow, though, since my free time is more limited than ever these days.  I'll write as fast as I'm able.

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 194*_

“It is not merely that Time has stopped,” says Tog, settling in for his tale and talking slowly.  “Green Valley has been cut off from the rest of the Kingdom of Cressella.

“We have been in Green Valley for seventy-five years.  That’s when we fled.  We would not abide by the Lawgiver’s decree, so we were exiled. We came here and established our village.  It was peaceful.  We were not accosted or attacked.  Twice a year a peddler would come, bringing pots and pans, spices, exotic foods.  

“Eleven years ago he stopped coming.  Around that time, _we_ stopped aging.  It took some months to realize what happened.  One of the women of the village has a five-month-old child, who has been of that size and apparent age all of these past eleven years.  No one has aged, not the children, not the adults.  When a year had gone by I took a chance and left the valley.   It is death for us to go back to Cressella;  The Lawgiver’s men would kill us.  We are a danger to them.  They do not revere the Antlered God.   In their hearts they fear him, as they should.  That is why they sent us away.

“I went on a walkabout into the woods.  For many days I traveled.  At the edge… I don’t know what else to call it…. about fifty miles from here, I reached a place where I could walk no further.  The forest  was still there, it stretched out before me, but my mind could not make my feet walk another step.  It was as if there was a wall, for my head.  (He taps his head meaningfully.)  

“I took a few steps to the side, and tried again.  I could not.  It was as if there was a wall stretching through the forest, invisible.  I tracked its extent, knowing I might be displeasing the Antlered God.    Clearly this was some design of his.  I had come to the conclusion some weeks before that the Stillness was a test for us.  He wanted to see how we would endure such a state.   But I had to know, in case there was danger, which is why I left the village.  

I examined the extent of this boundary.  The forest looks no different on the other side, Aravis, but I could not reach it.  There was one… anomaly.  I followed the boundary for almost three weeks and it was then I found a shimmering square of blue light in the trees, hanging like a windowpane.   Beneath it there was a skeleton of some small creature,  like one of your smaller friends.  Not the size of a grown adult.  The skeleton had been stripped bare by insects, gnawed by wolves.   I was drawn to the blue window.  I don’t think the Antlered God wanted me to go through, but I had to be sure.   I stepped into its light.  It was cold, and there was blackness, and I emerged in a cave that was dark, echoing, smelling of stale death and something worse, something horrid and living.   There were old bones and dark stains beneath my feet.  Some fungus on the walls gave off a faint glow. 

“Then there was a growling from back in the cave, I saw lights like eyes but they were too high, twenty feet off the ground.  And something massive was moving.  I dove back through the curtain.  I feared some beast of the Antlered God’s making was there to protect something I was not meant to see.  I jumped back.  There was a crackling sound as if a thunderstorm were following me.  Pain like lightning seared my legs as I fell through the curtain back into the forest.   I was badly burned, but I lived.  I knew healing herbs which I found in the forest, and I tended to myself.”

“Did you see what kind of creature it was?” asks Aravis.

“I only saw a great shape, but I could not tell its size or type as it moved in the darkness.

“You must not tell my people that the curtain is there.  Some of them would do anything to escape the Stillness.  They don’t understand that soon the Antlered God will end our test and restore us, perhaps with might and vigor enough to return to the lands of the Lawgiver and retake our place.   It has been much to endure.   Eleven years of the Stillness.  There are some who would risk that cave.  They would not survive.  I would not have them go to their deaths.”

“We came through a similar curtain,” says Aravis.

“But there was no beast?” asks  Tog.

“No,” answers Aravis.  “The curtain we came through was green, and it brought us here.  When we looked back upon it it was blue.  As we watched it, it shifted off to the side and disappeared.”

“That is strange,” says Tog.  “I have returned to that curtain that I saw, three times in the ten years since I first found it.  It has been there, in the same place, hanging every time.”

“I fear that curtain is where we must go,” says Aravis.  “I fear that cave is something we must brave.”

Tog looks into Aravis’s star-filled eyes, considering his words.  He licks his lips.

“I would urge against it,” he says at last.  “There is death in that cave.”

Aravis sighs.  

“Our lives are meaningless against that of the world which we are trying to save,” he says wearily.

Tog glances around again at the armaments and equipment of the Company.

“If you _were_ to slay the beast of the cave,” he says, “perhaps our salvation is there.  But again, we should not speak of this to the others.  I will think of some safe falsehood to tell my people, though it galls me to do that.”

At Dranko’s urging Aravis asks about the Lawgivers.

“Hrmmmm.”  Tog makes a noise of disapproval.  “They worship a false god of justice.  Of punishment.  They are strict and controlling, and have made worship of the Antlered God a crime!”

“What is their symbol?” asks Aravis, fearing to learn it’s a black circle.

“Three vertical bars across a sword.  Symbols for retribution and imprisonment.”

“Not our boys,” says Dranko.  “Tell Tog I’d like to cast a spell on him.”

With permission, Dranko casts _know age_ on Tog.  He’s the same eighty years old that he claims to be.

“That suggests to me the Black Circle is continuously bringing people in, as they build their tower.  If we can free them back to their own reality, we should.  And… ooh, you know what I think it is?  I think they’re trying to find ways of living forever.  And this might be their world of guinea pigs, as they work out ways to stop themselves from aging.”

Aravis decides not to share that speculation with Tog..

“Do you believe this is a test because the Antlered God has told you?” Aravis asks.  “Or is it your interpretation of events?”

“The Antlered God does not speak to me,” says Tog.  “I feel his power in the forest, in the earth, the trees, the air.”  

“_Our_ gods speak to _us_,” says Dranko, smirking.  

With the interview nearly at an end, Morningstar suggests explaining to Tog about _sending_ spells and possibly dream contact.   Then Ernie offers to give some of his own spices to the people of Green Valley, since they are no longer visited by their peddler.

“Ask him if he has any souvenirs,” says Dranko.  “I want something to take home with me.  I’m serious!  We got those little carvings from the Yuja.  I want something from these guys!”

Aravis works out a trade, where Ernie will give Tog some spices in return for a single one of their coins, “as a remembrance of where we’ve been.”

“If there is anything else you want in trade, of fair value, I’m sure we can work out an arrangement,” says Tog.

“I suspect the only thing we’ll desire from you is directions to the curtain,” says Aravis.

“It is many days’ journey.  When would you like to depart?”

…to be continued…


----------



## Zaruthustran

Wow! Wow wow! When they first went through and first started talking to folks I was stongly reminded of the City in the Bottle, as well as the Crosser's Maze in general. After that last post (and the speculation about immortality experiments) it sounds like something else--something kind of like Myst. Very cool.

Question: if nothing ages/reproduces, then how do the people eat? I'd think that the deer population would have been wiped out pretty quickly. Or does the Stillness affect only humans?

-z


----------



## Duncan Haldane

As ever, great story Sagiro!

It's good that we are so caught up 

I've wondered whether the stillness has stopped the seasons from changing - do they still have winter in the green valley (or wet/dry seasons if they are close to the equator).

Also - Sagiro - are you planning on changing your campaign to 3.5?

thanks for a wonderful story,

Duncan


----------



## KidCthulhu

As far as we can tell animals and the regular passage of time are not affected by the Stillness.  Seasons pass normally, and time does everything else it's supposed to, except the humans do not age physically.

And how creepy would it be to be an 11 year old in the body of a 6 month old infant.  That's the part that creeped us out.


----------



## RangerWickett

Just hope no one was actually _pregnant_ when the magic took effect.  In addition to the mom having morning sickness for life, what happens to the . . . well, I don't want to think about that.

But hey, on the upside, you don't need to get your hair cut or clip your fingernails, so that frees up time.

I wonder. . . .  I bet Sagiro only had that whole "change history" thing because he wanted to make it easier to convert to 3.5e.


----------



## Uzumaki

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> *Just hope no one was actually pregnant when the magic took effect.  In addition to the mom having morning sickness for life, what happens to the . . . well, I don't want to think about that.*




Do the smart thing. Save yourself the trouble and don't get pregnant.

Negative Population Growth, ho!


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 195*_

*A banterish interlude*

(note: if you‘re one of those people who voted for less verbatim dialogue, you can safely skip this installment.  I’ve done a bit of culling and tweaking to make it readable, but this is a decent example of character interplay that goes on between the moments of action, plot and excitement.)

* *

Aravis admits that they’d like to stay some weeks, training, praying and studying.

“I have nothing personal against you,” says Tog, “but the longer you stay, the more questions it will raise among the people of Green Valley.  But, here you are.  I will not turn you out of the village.  If you wish you may camp outside, or I can find you a barn to stay in.   And If you wish to share in our food, we will ask that you perform some labor.  It is our way.”

The Company thinks a barn would be ideal, and agrees readily to work for their food and lodging.  Tog gives them directions to the dwelling of a farmer named Matt.

“Tell him Tog said you could stay in his barn, unless he has some objection.”

The party leaves Tog to his meditations and walks into the cool night, headed across town.  

“I want to start training that six-month-old to be an adventurer,” says Dranko idly as they walk.  The others look at him like he’s crazy.

“He’s not strong enough to hold the torch,” says Ernie.

“Ah, but he _will_ be,” says Dranko.  “And when time starts moving again, he’ll be a kick-ass adventurer by the time he’s five.”

“Let’s just find this man’s barn,” says Step, frowning.

“Hey, it’s like a story I’ve heard,” says Dranko.  “I’ll bet the farmer has an attractive daughter.  The farmer _always_  has an attractive daughter.  She’ll be caught out in the rain and have to take shelter in the barn.  She'll come in all soaking wet, and we’ll have to…  what?”

Morningstar is giving him a withering look.  Grey Wolf mutters, “I’m all out of _mage hands_; I’ll have to slap him myself.”

“It’s just a story,” says Dranko.

After a few minutes they arrive at the farmhouse, which has a large barn out back and several adjacent fields.  There’s light coming from the windows in the house so they walk up and knock on the door.   Presently they hear footsteps approach, and a middle-aged man with graying hair and thick arms comes to meet them.

“Hello,” says Aravis politely.  “You are Matt?”

The man looks carefully at Aravis, and then at the other members of the Company.  His mouth makes involuntary chewing noises as he sizes them up.

“You’re them what came down from the woods up yonder,” he says with a drawl.

“Yes, we are.”

“What can I do for yeh?”

“Elder Tog suggested that if you don’t mind, there was a barn here we might be able to use for a few weeks,” says Aravis.

“Tell him we’ll help with the chores!” chimes in Ernie.

Matt looks down at Ernie, puzzled.

“At the moment I am the only one of us who can speak your language,” explains Aravis.

“Ah.”

“They are making suggestions as I talk.  We would be happy to share chores while we’re here.”

Ernie beams, trying to look as trustworthy as possible.

Matt says nothing for a moment.  He’s staring (rudely, really) into the star-fields that serve Aravis for eyes.

“What the hell is that?” he asks eventually.

“I have inside me a magical item, and it… does that to my eyes.”

“What, yuh eat it?” asks Matt.

“It more just kind of entered,” says Aravis patiently.

“You oughtta be more careful,” advises Matt, making some more chewing sounds.

“I know,” says Aravis.

“Tog says you could have the barn, huh?”

“If it was all right with you,” says Aravis.

“Right neighborly of him,” says Matt sourly.  “Needs fixin’.”

“We’d be happy to work on it,” says Aravis.

“You got any skill?” asks Matt.  “I mean, you know how to fix a barn?”

Aravis relays all of this to the others.  Ernie beams even more, trying so hard to make a good impression that his face is stretched into an alarming rictus.

“What’s his problem,” asks Matt, glancing down at Ernie.  

Aravis looks over at Ernie.

“I have no idea,” confesses Aravis.  “But about your barn, we may need some direction, but we are accomplished laborers.”

“Uh huh,” says Matt.  “Ask me, you look like some strange cross ‘tween a travellin’ circus and an army.  Where’d you come from, anyhows?”

“From a very far away place, that’s very hard to get to from here,” says Aravis.

“Huh.  Came through a door what don’t exist no more, is what I hear.  Got that right?  Awful… convenient.”

There’s an awkward pause during which Matt seems like he might say more on this topic, but in the end he clicks his tongue and says:

“Yeah, you can have the barn.  I’ll get some lumber delivered and you guys can do the rest.”

Aravis relays.  Dranko grins and, perhaps feeling like he has to make up for the bit about the farmer’s daughter, says, “Tell him if he hits on Morningstar I’ll pull out his tongue.”

Matt looks over at him, frowning even though he doesn’t speak the language.

“He’s got funny teeth,” he says to Aravis.

“He was hit very hard as a young boy, and so he has brain damage,” explains Aravis, keeping a remarkably straight face.

“You’re telling him I’m good at my job, right?” says Dranko, a bit anxiously.

“Well, you keep him away from sharp things in the barn then,” says Matt. 

The farmer looks around again at the Company.  His eyes pause this time on where Flicker and Ernie stand in front of Kibi.

“Them little ones,” he says, “especially the one with the beard…”

He trails off, not exactly sure what’s bothering him.

“This one is an excellent chef,” says Aravis, motioning to Ernie.  “He can make anything you want to eat.”

Matt perks up a bit, showing more emotion that he has thus far.

“Apple pie?” he asks.

“Ooooh, yes,” says Aravis, nodding his head.

“Well, maybe we can work that into the agreement about the barn,” says the farmer.

“What’s that about?” says Ernie.  “Why is he pointing at me?”

“He wants you to milk the bull,” says Dranko.

“He’d like you to help with the cooking,” says Aravis, shooting Dranko a look.

That, of course, makes Ernie’s day.

“I guess they’re so short from some strange side-effect of the Stillness, ain’t they?” says Matt.

“Yeah,” says Aravis, not really wanting to explain.

“Pity about that,” says Matt.  “Still don’t understand about the beard, though.  He… he ain’t human, is he.”

“No,” says Aravis,

“Dangerous?”

“No!”

“I don’t want none of them weapons in my house.  They stay in the barn.  And don’t go causin’ no trouble on m’ property.  And I don’t want to hear no noises late at night, either.”

Aravis agrees to all terms and the Company goes to check out the living arrangements.  The barn is large and drafty but that’s no hardship considering the weather.  One of the back corners is rotting out and needs repair, but the rest looks sound enough.  There are stalls for cows or horses but they’ve been long empty.  The loft has some stale straw.

“We shouldn’t stay up late,” says Aravis as they settle in.  “I promised Matt no loud noises.”

“Does that include Dranko’s snoring?” asks Kibi hopefully.

“It’s no louder than yours,” growls Dranko.

“Ernie, he’d like you to help in the kitchen,” says Aravis.  “He seems to have a fondness for apple pie.”

“Got it.  I’ll cook him an apple pie that’ll make his beard curl.”

“He’s clean shaven,” Dranko points out.

“We’ll then, it’ll grow him a beard and then curl it.”

“And no weapons in the house,” says Aravis.  “He thinks we’re weird.” 

Dranko walks over to examine the rotting walls in the back corner of the barn.

“Hey, want me to cast ‘make hole?’  

He puts fist through a rotten beam.  Kibi looks it up and down.  

“That was a support post,” he comments.

“If this tips over in the middle of the night, it’ll be your fault,” says Ernie.

“You’ll want to be careful,” says Aravis to Dranko.  “Matt already thinks you’re a little… slow.”

“Why does he think I’m slow?” asks Dranko indignantly.  “I’m not slow!  I’m fast! What are you talking about?”

“You gave him the impression that you were a little… “

Aravis taps his head.  Dranko looks outraged.

“How did I give him that impression?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe it was because you kept making nonsense comments while we were talking.”

Somehow Aravis isn’t laughing.   He’s suddenly thankful that his starry eyes help make his expression unreadable.

“So did Ernie,” complains Dranko.

“But he was trying to look friendly and trustworthy.”

“Right,” mutters Dranko.

“I tried to assure him that you’d be safe,” says Aravis.

“I am going to sleep,” says Step suddenly, and not appreciating the banter.  “Can you talk more quietly?”

Dranko searches around the barn before spending a couple of hours sneaking around the village, mapping it out in his head.   The only odd thing he notices is that there aren’t many stores and shops, given that the village population looks to be well over five hundred people.  Around midnight he comes back, settles into his bedroll, closes his eyes, and tries his best to ignore Kibi’s snoring.

...to be continued...


----------



## Uzumaki

edit: Nevermind.


----------



## StevenAC

Sheer brilliance.  Who needs "moments of action, plot and excitement" when you've got players who can carry a scene like that? 


			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> Dranko walks over to examine the rotting walls in the back corner of the barn.  "Hey, want me to cast 'make hole'?"  He puts fist through a rotten beam.



ROTFLMAO.

And Aravis telling Matt about Dranko's "brain damage" was a classic, too.  Kudos to his player.
(For _Doctor Who_ fans -- I was reminded of the time when the Doctor tried to get his companion out of a bad situation by passing her off as a serving android: "I got it cheap because the walk's not quite right.  And then there's the accent, of course..." )


----------



## StevenAC

*Sagiro's Story Hour, the Musical (continued)*

By special request of a famous bard's alter-ego:


			
				KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Can I make a request?  How about a setting of "I have a song to sing-o" from _Yeomen_?



Well, after much frenzied experimentation, perspiration, desperation, and occasionally inspiration... here it is.  I was trying to stick as close to the original as possible (both in the pattern of the words and in the emotional progression of the song), which meant that my 'parody' ended up rather less funny and somewhat more sentimental than I initially expected.  But I still like it... 

(As usual, apologies to Sir W.S. Gilbert.  And if you want a karaoke version to follow along with, I've put one here.)


DRANKO:          I have a song to sing, O!
MORNINGSTAR: Sing me your song, O!
DRANKO:
It is sung without joy
By a half-orc boy,
Who could not with his kin belong, O!

It's a song of a cleric with roguish cast
Whose face was hard, but whose wits were fast,
Who journeyed far from his painful past,
As he sighed for the life of the lonely.

Heighdy! Heighdy!
Misery me -- lack-a-day-dee!
He journeyed far from his painful past,
As he sighed for the life of the lonely.


MORNINGSTAR: I have a song to sing, O!
DRANKO:          Sing me your song, O!
MORNINGSTAR:
It is sung in the light
By a priestess of night,
A Dreamer whose dream was strong, O!

It's the song of an Ellish girl, somewhat shy,
Who was called to walk beneath daylight sky,
Where she met the cleric with roguish cast
Whose face was hard, but whose wits were fast,
Who journeyed far from his painful past,
As he sighed for the life of the lonely.

Heighdy! Heighdy!
Misery me -- lack-a-day-dee!
He journeyed far from his painful past,
As he sighed for the life of the lonely.


DRANKO:          I have a song to sing, O!
MORNINGSTAR: Sing me your song, O!
DRANKO:
It is sung with the cheer
Of the friendship here
And the feel of righting wrong, O!

It's the song of a Company, heroes all,
Who fought many evils, great and small,
As the Dreaming Ellish girl, now less shy,
Who learned to walk beneath daylight sky,
Came to know the cleric with roguish cast,
Whose face was hard, but whose wits were fast,
Who journeyed far from his painful past,
As he sighed for the life of the lonely.

Heighdy! Heighdy!
Misery me -- lack-a-day-dee!
He journeyed far from his painful past,
As he sighed for the life of the lonely.


MORNINGSTAR: I have a song to sing, O!
DRANKO:          Sing me your song, O!
MORNINGSTAR:
It is sung with a smile
And in thanksgiving style
For it tells of a courtship long, O!

It's a song of the Ellish girl, left apart
As the one that she loved was not so smart;
In the midst of the Company, heroes all,
Who fought many evils, great and small,
She was third in a triangle of romance,
But in patience she waited and won her chance
At the love of the cleric with roguish cast
Whose face was hard, but whose wits were fast,
Who journeyed far from his painful past,
As he sighed for the life of the lonely.

BOTH:
Heighdy! Heighdy!
Misery me -- lack-a-day-dee!
Resolved to wed, they now look ahead,
'Tis no longer the life of the lonely!

Heighdy! Heighdy!
Misery me -- lack-a-day-dee!
Resolved to wed, they now look ahead,
'Tis no longer the life of the lonely!


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sigh.  That was beautiful.  If only Dranko could sing.


----------



## weiknarf

Is Pkitty always like that?  How does everyone keep a straight face?


----------



## Fade

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *“Uh huh,” says Matt.  “Ask me, you look like some strange cross ‘tween a travellin’ circus and an army.  Where’d you come from, anyhows?”*




A travelling circus..... OF DOOM!

(well, they _are_ trying to destroy the world.)


----------



## StevenAC

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Sigh.  That was beautiful.  If only Dranko could sing.



You're telling me he was never a choirboy in all his years at the Church of Delioch? Clean white robes, freshly scrubbed face, neatly combed hair, tusks nicely polished...


----------



## KidCthulhu

While that's quite a mental image, no, I'm pretty sure Dranko skived off during choir.  Probably out picking someone's pocket.  Darn shame no one told him chicks dig guys who can sing.   He might be in the front row of the New Delioch Mistrals right now, instead of off adventuring.


----------



## StevenAC

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> He might be in the front row of the New Delioch Mistrals right now, instead of off adventuring.



The New Delioch Mistrals?  Bah.  Bunch of dry windbags.

The New Delioch _Minstrels_, on the other hand...


----------



## Zustiur

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *  He might be in the front row of the New Delioch Mistrals right now, instead of off adventuring. *




Where would that leave his bride?

Left standing at the altar while he sings (or grunts?) his own wedding song?

Zustiur.


----------



## KidCthulhu

StevenAC said:
			
		

> *
> The New Delioch Mistrals?  Bah.  Bunch of dry windbags.
> 
> The New Delioch Minstrels, on the other hand...  *




Fine.  Dranko can't sing, and I can't type.  Are you happy now, Mr. Picky?


----------



## Eccles

Just out of curiosity, how many times have you read Harry Potter now, KidC?

(I can't think of any other Mistrals, apart from the very nasty wind in Southern France).


----------



## KidCthulhu

Quite a few.  But the point here is really my two left hands fumbling around the keyboard, not the degree of my Potter-osity.

Next time I spellcheck...


----------



## StevenAC

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Fine.  Dranko can't sing, and I can't type.  Are you happy now, Mr. Picky?



_I feel picky,
Oh so picky,
I feel picky and tricky and bright!
Take the mickey?
I just shouldn't but it feels so right..._

Hmm... on second thoughts, maybe not...


----------



## KidCthulhu

All right.  I give!  You're the supreme champion of song parody.  I'm not even going to attempt to finish my version of "Sound of Silence" that began "Hello, Parthol, my old friend."  I can't compete.


----------



## dpdx

Aw, c'mon, KidC!

_Hello, Parthol my old friend
I've come to fight with you again..._


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 196*_

Although the barn is soon quiet, One Certain Step does not fall asleep for over an hour.   He lies on his back staring up at the wooden rafters.   His mind is troubled, his heart heavy, his soul disturbed.  

One particular image comes to him unbidden when he closes his eyes.   A giant falls forward into the frozen slush at his feet, blood trailing in ribbons from gashes opened up with Step’s sword.   The scene repeats itself over and over in his mind and he desperately tries to remember what he felt at the time.  Satisfaction?  Exultation?  Even bloodlust?  Why was it not until afterward, when Eigomic had spoken, that he had felt shame and remorse?  Had he come to this, where a brutish giant was instructing him in matters of honor?

Why did he not speak out, when the rest of his band had rushed the two giants guarding the trap-door in Eigomic’s house?  Why had he not put forth a plan of subdual, of non-lethal incapacitation that would have served every bit as well as a quick slaughter?  

Step has no good answers.  For a long time now he has made his own will subservient to his new friends and their collective quest.  But they are not bound by the oaths that he took to Kemma, Goddess of the Sun.  Their methods and tactics have long troubled him – while undeniably fighting for Good, they sometimes place facility above honor –  but always he has placed the Quest and its success above all other concerns.  Wasn't it worth any price to come this far?  The holy book said he must keep his appointment with death if Good is to triumph over Evil.  Surely so noble and critical an end justifies desperate means?

He knows the answer to that question as soon as it forms:  of course not.  It is the paladin’s code that _no_ end justifies dishonorable means.  Not so many years ago he understood that.  When he helped cleanse the filthy den of Vinceris-worshippers in Djaw, his methods and principles were as uncompromising as his desire to succeed.

The giant falls face-first into the bloody snow.   Its only crime had been to do as it was told.  Just like Step was doing.  He considers that Kemma would be justified to remove Her grace from an unworthy vessel.

He falls asleep some time later having found no peace.


* *

Not much past five o’clock the next morning the Company is woken by roosters lustily greeting the dawn.  Step is already up; he stands mutely in the doorway facing the rising sun.

“Remind me to kill the chickens,” says Dranko groggily.  “Just one snap of the whip and they’d be history.”

“I like it here,” says Ernie, who has jumped up fresh and ready to cook breakfast.  “It reminds me of home.”

Grey Wolf nods in agreement.  “You can’t kill the chickens,” he adds.

As Kibi pulls on his robes Scree comes up out of the ground at his feet.

“The earth is full of power!” says the elemental. 

“I know,” says Kibi.  “I can feel it.”

“It’s not the Eyes of Moirel, either,” says Scree.  “It’s me.  It’s you.”

Kibi _does_ feel it, coursing through his body like electricity.   Magical energy is bubbling within him, suffusing him. 

“There’s not much stone here,” he observes.

“True,” says Scree.  “But the energy is coming from everywhere.  Even the… the air.  I don’t understand it.”

Ernie walks out of the barn and into the soft pastel dawn.  Across the way he sees Matt already hard at work in his fields.   He doesn’t have _tongues_ prepared, but he has a pair of _comprehend languages_*, and figures he’ll just cast one on himself and one upon the farmer.  He casts as he walks, then approaches Matt and taps him lightly on the arm as he offers a cheery “Good morning!”

Matt looks down and sees the glow of the magic on his body.  He jumps back, alarmed.

“What the hell?  What was that you did?” he exclaims.

“I used some magic on you so you can understand me.  Good morning.  What needs doing?   I’m Ernie, by the way.”

Matt looks down at him with a fierce glower on his face.  

“Well, Ernie, I’ll tell you the first thing you can do.”  

Ernie looks eager to help.

“You don’t cast spells on me when I’m not expecting it, and you haven’t said anything about it!” says Matt angrily.

Ernie is quite taken aback.

“I’m very sorry, and I apologize.  That must be frightening for you.  But you see, you can’t understand me unless I do!”

“Your friend could understand me yesterday, and I could understand him,” says Matt.  “What you did just now, well I don’t appreciate that.”

“I’m sorry,” repeats Ernie.

“It’s not polite,” grumbles Matt.

Ernie gets a bit testy.  He’s not used to being on the receiving end of this sort of thing.

“You’ve said so, and I apologized,” he says curtly.  “Now what needs doing?”

Matt glares at him for a few more seconds, then sucks in a breath.

“You can fix the barn once the wood shows up.  Should be soon,” he says.

“We will, don't worry.  I just wanted to know if there were any morning chores I could help with before that.”

“You can feed the chickens.”

“Sure!” says Ernie, back on familiar ground.

“Feed’s over behind the house.  Don’t use too much.  You done farming?”

“Yup.”

“By the time you’re done that, you can get started on the barn.”

Ernie sets off to help with the morning’s work.

* *


“I think, Grey Wolf, what we should do is, we should build ramparts on this place.  Make it defensible, right?”

Grey Wolf looks at Dranko, shakes his head, and walks outside.  It’s now a few hours after sunrise and a horse-drawn cart is approaching the barn.  An old woman drives it, and a dozen planks of wood rattle in the cart’s bed.
As some of the Company watch, the woman jumps down, walks to the back and hoists four of the large planks onto her shoulders without much effort.   Kibi casts _tongues_.  

As some of the party helps the woman with the wood (not that she needs the help; her old legs are wiry, with bulding calves), Dranko casts _comprehend languages_ on himself and jumps down of the loft, letting his _ring of feather falling_ kick in.   The woman jumps back in surprise and drops her planks.

“What in tarnation?” she cries.

Dranko takes a step toward her.  She takes a step back.  Dranko deliberately picks up one of the boards and looks meaningfully over at the rotten corner of the barn.

“For the barn.” he says.

“Does anyone here speak the common tongue?” asks the woman, looking around.

“Hello!” says Kibi.  “Excuse me.  Thanks for bringing over the wood.”

“Ah, good,” says the woman.  “What’s up with him?”  

She thumbs toward Dranko.

“Oh, he has some trouble speaking,” says Kibi.  “But he can understand what you say.  He’s offering to help carry the wood, and he’s sorry for giving you a fright.  That wasn’t very nice of him.  He doesn’t have very good manners.”  

He taps his head and gives the woman a knowing look.

“Hey!” says Dranko.  “I can understand you, you know!”

“He could carry the wood over there, but he probably shouldn’t try doing anything tricky with it,” says the woman.

Miffed, Dranko waits until the woman is looking and casts _make whole_ on the wall.

“Is that good?” asks Kibi.

She taps on the mended section a few times, runs her hand over it, inspects it for a minute.

“Can he do that to my shed?” she asks Kibi.

“Sure!” Kibi agrees.

“Why don’t you bring him over, when you’re sure he’s under control.  Say, a couple of hours after noon?”

“Under control?!” exclaims Dranko.  “What the…”

“We can do that!” says Kibi brightly.

* *

Sometime later Matt comes into the barn to retrieve some tools and put away some others.

“You have breakfast yet?” asks Ernie.

“I’ve already et.  But I was thinkin’.   Friend here says you’re a good cook.”

“I live to cook!” says Ernie.

“Ah.  Well my cookin’ ain’t so good.  I’ve been cooking for myself since m’ wife died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” says Ernie.  “That your wife died, I mean, not that you cook for yourself.”

“Wouldn’t be wrong to be sorry about either.   Anyways, I got some decent ingredients.  Got some apples delivered this morning, if you can make anything out of that.”

Matt cannot hide the hopeful smile at the corners of his mouth.

“Why don’t you show me to the kitchen and we’ll see what we can do.”   

Ernie finds the kitchen serviceable if underused.  He tells Matt he’ll make a full lunch for everyone, including the Company and Matt’s farm-hands.

Around two in the afternoon Matt and three other men  (one of whom looks about twelve years old) come in from the fields.  Ernie has prepared a feast of sandwiches along with two hot apple pies.  Matt spots the repaired corner of the barn and walks over to inspects it.

“How did you get that done?” he asks, rapping his knuckles on the mended wood.

Dranko mimes spell-casting.  Morningstar casts _tongues_

“We used small amounts of our magic to mend the barn over in that corner.  Well, Dranko did,” she says.

“Fixed it up with magic, huh?  Is that gonna last?  You sure?  No funny stuff?”  He knocks on it again.

“It was a tough spot,” she says.

“Well.  Hmm.  If you don’t mind, if you do any more fixin’ up that you do, you do it the honest way.   Fair enough?”

“Not a problem.”

“No more magickin’ up my barn.  And you make sure he understands that…”

He points at Dranko.

“…you know, since he’s not all up there.”

He taps his head again before starting in on his apple pie.

Dranko turns a bright red.  “Oh for crying out loud…”

“Great mother earth!” exclaims Matt.  “You didn’t magic this pie, did yuh?”

“Ernie doesn’t use magic,” says Morningstar.

Matt wolfs down another bite.

“Mmmm. Mmmm. mm.  I know the Antlered God might strike me down for sayin’ this, but… I’m sorry Maude, you never made an apple pie this good.”

“Looks like you’ll be cooking another one,” says Flicker to Ernie.

“Ernie, you’re all right,” says Matt, quite forgiving him for the morning’s incident.   “Tell him he’s all right.  He can make more of these.  Uh, if he wants.”

“I’ll have more farm work for you to do now and then,” continues Matt between bites.  “But if you don’t’ make a mess in here, and don’t go makin’ a ruckus, and don’t go usin’ no magic on m’stuff – or me – (tell him he’s forgiven, by the way) – then the barn’s yours.  Ain’t used it much since the cows died.  If you need anything, I’ll likely be out in the fields.  Just watch where you step and don’t go trompin over my crops.   Specially the dim one.”

“God damn it!” says Dranko.


* *

That evening Ernie (with _tongues_ cast) wanders back through town to Elder Tog’s house.   Townsfolk wave to him as he passes, then point and whisper after he’s gone.  Tog is at home and invites him in.  Ernie explains that he wants to throw a big town-wide barbecue later in the week, to thank the folk of Green Valley for letting the Company stay as guests.

Tog doesn’t answer right away.  After a minute of thought he says, “I would prefer not.”

Ernie is crestfallen.  It never occurred to him that Tog would deny his request.  He had only come to ask permission as a gesture of politeness.

“But… but the people should congregate and be happy.  And eat better!”

“They do that on occasion,” says Tog.  “It is your own presence that worries me.  It would invite more questioning and speculation, and there has been too much of that in the village already.”

It’s a sullen and moping halfling that walks back through the streets of Green Valley to Matt’s barn.  Everyone looks at him curiously as he sits down heavily on the ground.  

“Tog won’t let me hold the barbecue.  I hate this alternate world stuff!”

“You can have a party for us,” says Grey Wolf.

“It’s not the same.  I cook for you guys all the time!”

“And we love it,” says Dranko soothingly.  “Even if we’re a little dim.”



* *


Two weeks of training pass.   The wizards discover that they’re running out of scroll-ink and wonder when they might have the opportunity to get more.  Dranko sets objects around the loft and practices snaring them with his whip.  The clerics pray, the fighters spar, and Step broods silently and unnoticed.    One afternoon Dranko tries summoning Iglat with his mace, and finds that summoning still works inside (?) the tower of Het Branoi.

The people of Green Valley pretty much leave them to themselves.  Even Matt only comes by for meals.

A few days into their third week there is a knock on the barn door come evening.  Everyone looks over in surprise; Matt just walks in when he needs something.  After a few seconds the door starts slowly sliding open, revealing the diminutive Del, six years old in body but (presumably) almost eighteen in mind.  She looks around the barn until she spots Aravis, who casts _tongues_.

Del looks furtively back outside, as if she fears she’s been followed.  The she struggles against the door and slides it closed.

“Is that the spell that lets you speak our language?” she asks, walking over to Aravis.

Aravis nods. 

“May I… ask you some questions?” she says.  Aravis translates for the others.

“Uh oh,” mutters Grey Wolf.

“You may ask,” says Aravis slowly, “but I might not be able to answer.”

“What are your plans,” asks Del.  “Are you staying here forever?”

“No.   We are only staying long enough to…”

“Then where are you going when you leave?” Del interrupts.

“To be honest, I don’t know where we’re going.   We need to find out where it is we’re _supposed_ to be.”

“So you’re just going to march out into the forest?  Are you going back to the cities of Cressella?”

“I’m not sure,” says Aravis cautiously.

“Did Tog tell you anything, about what’s out in the forest?”

“He told some of what he has seen, yes”

“What _has_ he seen?” urges Del.

“You should talk to him about that,” answers Aravis.

“Oh, I have.  And I’m not the only one.”

Ernie starts making “stop talking” motions behind her, where Aravis can see.

“Some of us… think Tog is not telling us the whole truth,” Del continues.

At Dranko’s request Aravis asks Del if he may cast _comprehend languages_ on her.

“So I’ll understand all of you?  Will you answer my questions then?”

“You have to say no!” whispers Ernie.

“I will not lie to you,” says Aravis, “but I will not necessarily be able to answer every question you ask.  I’m sorry, but I made some promises to Tog.”

She nods her head and Dranko casts the spell.

“Can you understand me?” asks Dranko.

“Yeah.”

“Tog has his sh*t together,” he says bluntly. “There’s no doubt you’re sick of being here, and you’re sick of being in the Stillness.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.”

“Tog’s right, though.  We don’t know how we got here, we don’t know where we are, and we don’t know where we’re gonna go.”

“He saw something out there.”

“I don’t know if he did or not,” says Dranko warily.

“Oh, you probably know.  Tog probably told you, and made you promise that you wouldn’t say anything to the rest of us.”

“You’re here where you’re supposed to be, with your people, with your families,” says Ernie.

“Where I’m SUPPOSED to be is not STUCK in this village, forbidden to leave, not aging, knowing that there’s some way out that we’re not allowed to find!”

Ernie looks at her with sympathy.

“I’m not sure there is a way out,” he says.  "And I think that if you tried to get out, you’d be lost, and alone.  You have no idea how much that stinks.”

Del rolls her eyes.  

“I wouldn’t go _myself_,” she says, exasperated.

“You don’t look stupid.  Are you stupid?” asks Dranko.

“No!”

“Right.  And since you’re not stupid, don’t you think that if there was a way to get the hell out of here, away from the Stillness, that your people would have taken it?”

“If we were allowed to find out things for ourselves, we might have.”

“Use your brain!” cries Dranko.

“Dranko!” says Aravis sharply.

“You’re not being very nice to her,” says Kibi.

“It’s not about being nice!” shouts Dranko.

“No,” says Del coldly.  “It’s about doing what Tog told you to do, isn’t it?  It’s about saying what Tog told you to say, isn’t it?  I see how it is.”

“I don’t obey orders very well,” snarls Dranko

“Well you’re doing a good job of it,” Del snaps back at him.

They lock eyes with each other, glaring.  Aravis breaks the awkward silence.

“When we came here, we came through a doorway that disappeared behind us.  We intend to go out and find a way that we can leave here.”

“Another doorway.  Out of the forest,” says Del.

“Some. Way,” replies Aravis.

“Uh uh,” says Del.  “Tog has been insisting that there aren’t any more doorways.  If he’s telling the truth, what do you expect to find?”

“We may not find anything.  We may be here forever,” says Aravis.

“At least you’re all in adult bodies,” says Del bitterly.

Aravis sighs.

“Please.  Before you do anything rash, I suggest that those of you who believe that Tog isn’t telling you everything, get together and try to convince him to admit whatever it is you think he’s holding back.”

“Oh, great idea.  You think we haven’t done that before?  Several times?”

Dranko decides to try a different approach – scare tactics.

“You know, when we first came here, we expected to get our asses kicked by a giant monster.”

“Here in Green Valley?” Del snorts.  “You thought there was a monster in Green Valley?”

“There’s always a monster,” mumbles Ernie.

“We did not know what was here,” says Aravis.  “We didn’t know it was Green Valley at all.”

“But you came from the place with the giants, right?”

“Yes,” says Aravis.  “And according to a prophecy, we’re going to face something that’s going to kill at least one of us.  We expected it to be in Green Valley.  If it’s not here, it could be in the next place we go.  It’s probably waiting for us.”

Del leaps to her feet.

“Yeah, well, there’s something that’s going to kill us too, and you’ve met him already.  His name is Tog.”

She turns her back on the Company and marches toward the door..

“You’re going to do something you think is incredibly adventurous, but is really pretty stupid,” Dranko calls after her.

Del has started to open the barn door, but wheels around as if stung.

“If you find a way out of here, are you going to tell us?”

“Make you a deal,” says Dranko.  “If we can find a way to end the Stillness, we will.  Promise.”

“All right,” says Del.  “All right.  Good night.”

She heaves on the door until it opens and scurries into the night.

…to be continued…


* Our current house rule for _comprehend languages_ is that (for spoken words) it works just like _tongues_, but only for understanding, not for speaking; and it can target anyone, not just the caster.  I may use the upcoming transition to 3.5 as an opportunity to revert to the book rules, but I haven’t decided yet.


----------



## Nail

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 196
> * Our current house rule for comprehend languages is that (for spoken words) it works just like tongues, but only for understanding, not for speaking; and it can target anyone, not just the caster.  I may use the upcoming transition to 3.5 as an opportunity to revert to the book rules, but I haven’t decided yet. *



Uhmmmm........don't.    Please?


----------



## Sagiro

Nail said:
			
		

> *
> Uhmmmm........don't.    Please? *



Don't change our house rule for _comprehend languages_?  Or don't convert to 3.5?  'Cause the latter we're almost certainly doing, to at least a large degree.

-Sagiro


----------



## Nail

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> Don't change our house rule for comprehend languages?  Or don't convert to 3.5?  'Cause the latter we're almost certainly doing, to at least a large degree.
> 
> -Sagiro *




Shoot.  And here I thought brevity was the foundation of clarity.  Sorry.

I (IMHO) think _comprehend languages_ should be as you have house-ruled it. 

I also belive (IMNSHO) that 3.5e should be manditory for all true-believers and ENWorld story hours.  Heretics should be hunted down with nerf(tm) +5 bows and  +1 sonic holy arrows and shot on sight.  Or perhaps attacked with size tiny lawful cold iron greatswords and adamantine tower shields.

Submit to square facings!  Submit!


----------



## Sarellion

Time for an update.

I thnk I will steal your nice password for this portal.


----------



## bertman4

OK, don't know how I missed this post, but I did. I just read it.



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 196
> He knows the answer to that question as soon as it forms:  of course not.  It is the paladin’s code that no end justifies dishonorable means.  Not so many years ago he understood that.  When he helped cleanse the filthy den of Vinceris-worshippers in Djaw, his methods and principles were as uncompromising as his desire to succeed.
> *




_THAT_ is just beautiful. 

Bertman

BTW, what the hell happened to the archives? I'm getting a URL not found error from Comcast.


----------



## Sagiro

bertman4 said:
			
		

> *OK, don't know how I missed this post, but I did. I just read it.
> 
> 
> 
> THAT is just beautiful.
> 
> Bertman
> 
> BTW, what the hell happened to the archives? I'm getting a URL not found error from Comcast. *



Really?  It's working for me.  Are you trying this URL?

http://home.comcast.net/~dorian.hart/charagan.html

-Sagiro

p.s. I hope to have the next update done this weekend, but I know better than to make promises!  Coming up in the next update or two:  the natives get restless, practice makes pain, and The Beast in the Cave.


----------



## LightPhoenix

It seems to be coming up fine for me.

You should have guest writers!!!  It'll be like a talk show


----------



## anon

*Thanks for the weekend's entertainment*

Sagiro,

Just spent my weekend catching up on your wonderful story after being away from it for many months.

So much about your game is excellent: the depth of worlds within worlds, the characters' consistency and emotion, the wit, good tactics.  It's inspirational!

I hope you keep the Story running for a long time.

Thanks,
anon


----------



## Sagiro

*Re: Thanks for the weekend's entertainment*



			
				anon said:
			
		

> *Sagiro,
> 
> ...
> 
> I hope you keep the Story running for a long time.
> 
> Thanks,
> anon *




Me too!     Here's another update.

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 197*_

The Company looks at the door for a few seconds. 

“We should follow her,” suggests Dranko.  Grey Wolf casts _invisibility_ on Dranko and Flicker and the two rogues slip out into the night.    Fortunately Del doesn’t try anything stupid, going straight back to her house and slamming the door behind her.

“You’d think she was eighteen,” Dranko thinks to himself.

Back at Matt’s barn Dranko says to Aravis, 

“You want to tell Tog about this in the morning?”

“I don’t know if we want to get the girl in trouble,” says Grey Wolf.

“I think he probably knows already,” says Ernie.

“Well I don’t think it’s right,” says Flicker, causing heads to turn.  “Tog shouldn’t be keeping secrets from people.  They should be free to make up their own minds!”

“Flicker, you’re a genius!” says Dranko sarcastically.  “We’ll just send a whole mob of these people out ahead of us into the cave.  The monster will eat them, and get full, and then we can come in and kill it while it sleeps off the meal.”

Ernie, on whom sarcasm is occasionally lost, sputters.

“Dranko, that’s the worst plan you’ve ever had!”

“I’m aware of that,” says Dranko with a sigh.  “I’m making a point.”

After some debate the Company agrees to visit Tog the next morning and tell him about Del’s visit.

“He’s going to think it’s out fault for agitating people,” says Ernie, “but she came to us!  He needs to know that his people are unhappy.”


* *

In Tog’s house the next day various spells are cast to circumvent the language barrier.  

“We got a visit from Del yesterday,” says Dranko.

“Of course she did,” says Tog sagely.  “No doubt she pressed you for information.  I trust you kept to our agreement and told her nothing?  Very headstrong, that one.”

“They know something is out there,” says Aravis.

“She made some guesses,” adds Dranko.

“What guesses?” asks Tog curiously.

“She thinks you know more than you’re telling,” says Dranko.  “She thinks that since we got in, there must be a way out someplace.”

Tog nods.  “Reasonable assumptions to make.”

“She thinks that you saw something out in the woods,” says Kibi.

“I think you need to consider that the time is over for protecting them from the truth,” says Aravis.

Dranko leans forward in his chair.  “If we do our job right, we’ll kill the thing in the cave.   We’re going to try to end the Stillness.  I don’t know if we’ll succeed, but we’re going to try.”

“You think the answer is in that cave?” asks Tog.

“I think the answer is beyond that cave,” answers Dranko.  “Maybe another two or three _worlds_ past the cave.”

“Worlds beyond…” says Tog, looking puzzled.  “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Where we are right here, we think, is a different world than the one we came from.  Picture it this way.  You know how in a flood a hillock can become an island?  When you left your city and came here to Green Valley, we think that someone took this hillock…”

He gestures to indicate the whole village. 

“… and turned it into an island.  That’s why the Stillness exists.”

The rest of the Company looks impressed at Dranko’s metaphor.

“Why would the Antlered God allow such a thing?” Tog asks quietly.

“He works in mysterious ways,” says Dranko.  “It’s not our job to question.  But it’s possible that the Antlered God sent us to drain the water away.  We think we might have to go to another two or three different islands before we find a way to do that.”

“And the cave is an island,” says Tog.  He stays silent for a minute, thinking.

“I have had a thought,” he continues.  “I’ve toyed with it since I first met you.  You are… powerful warriors, clearly.  You wear magical gear, have the bearing of seasoned fighters…”

“And we have the scars to prove it!” says Dranko.  He lifts his shirt to provide the visual evidence.

“That wasn’t necessary,” says Kibi, wincing.

“Hey, I didn’t drop my pants this time,” whispers Dranko.

Tog pretends not to notice.

“My people have seen you,” he goes on.  “They know that even taken all together they could not fight as well as you.  There are rumors abounding about you.   Heroes from another world.  Indestructible.  Saviors.  Perhaps… perhaps it is time to come clean, now that I can use you.  Here is my plan.  I will tell you all of it, because you are a part of it.  

“I will gather the townsfolk and I tell them what I saw, ten years ago.  I will endure the backlash.  I will explain that there is a doorway and a cave and it would lead to their deaths without question.  I tell them that you are going to go into that cave, and there will be one of two outcomes.  If you do not survive, that will be a convincing lesson for the rest of them, that that is not the way to escape from or end the Stillness.  Your reputations are such that if _you_ do not succeed, my people will know that _they_ could not succeed.  On the other hand, if you defeat the beast in the cave, then the cave and what is beyond becomes open to us.  We could escape that way.”

“What’s beyond that cave might not be any safer,” says Ernie.

“But it would be worth exploring, surely,” says Tog.

“We could be the scouting party for them, check things out,” says Kibi.

Tog sighs.  

“My people have begun to suspect that I have some ulterior motive for not wanting them to explore, to leave, to look for a way out.  I wish to prove to them that that is not the case!  The only reason I have withheld information from them is that I don’t want them eaten by that thing, or blasted by its lightning!   I have no issue with them exploring, looking for ways out.  I think the Antlered God would approve of us taking initiative, once it is safe.”

The Company nods in agreement.

“When will you be ready to go?” asks Tog.

“We need a month,” says Dranko.

Ernie perks up.

“If you’re going to tell them, can I have my party?”

Tog smiles.  “It would best to do both on the same night.  It would be good to have something cheerful going on when they learn the news.”


* *


For a few more weeks the Company trains, though Tog requests that they leave Matt’s barn and remove themselves to the woods.  Their presence in the town fuels too much speculation and Tog doesn’t want things coming to a head before he’s ready.  Dranko practices with his whip.   Snokas and Morningstar alternate sparring and praying.  The wizards keep their noses in their books for hours on end.  Grey Wolf does slip into town one afternoon and pays for the blacksmith to make him a couple of short lengths of chain, which he needs as components for a new spell.

One Certain Step distances himself from the others as much as he can without attracting notice.  He often goes for long walks in the forest, finding clearings where the sun shines down to sit cross-legged in the grass.   In the weeks since arriving in Green Valley he has still not found peace in his heart.  Each morning he wakes to greet the sun, but instead of joy and serenity he feels a deep foreboding, and a fear that Kemma will remove Her grace from him.  His silent prayers become mingled with fits of angry self-doubt.

One afternoon in the final week of their training, while sitting in prayer in a forest meadow,  Step manages to quell these doubts, not so much by solving them, but by burying them beneath a new resolve to serve even more as a champion and protector of his companions.   Regardless of his deeper misgivings, his bravery and fighting prowess have always served him well, and soon they will be facing some horror that has already attacked Tog with no provocation.  Instead of brooding on the past, he should be preparing for the upcoming battle.

As he stands and prepares to return to the others, thick clouds blow across the strange orange sun.


* *


On the final day before setting out for the cave, Ernie is in a cooking frenzy.   Tonight is the big village-wide party that he’s been so looking forward to.  The prospect of feeding dozens (if not hundreds) fills his heart with joy.  Townsfolk throughout Green Valley are abuzz with anticipation, collectively sensing an important announcement or revelation.

The sky is relatively clear and the air dry and cool, but there is a crack like distant thunder from off in the woods.   A few minutes earlier Dranko, Aravis, Flicker and Grey Wolf had headed in that direction with mildly guilty looks on their faces.

“Yondalla’s raisin bagels!” Ernie exclaims.  “What are the _doing_ out there?”  

Some townsfolk turn to look curiously in the direction of the noise.  Elsewhere Morningstar’s eyes narrow as she listens to the thunderous boom..  She has a suspicion, but… no, surely not.  All the same, she ought to go check…


* *


The four of them have arrived in a secluded clearing a quarter-mile outside of town.   

“Morningstar will kill us,” notes Aravis.  Flicker is perched on a tree limb looking back toward Green Valley.  

“I’m ready,” says Dranko, gritting his teeth.

Grey Wolf casts _ironstorm_ around Dranko, and the rogue leaps and dodges the iron filings.   The spell is followed up quickly by a _lightning bolt_, and Dranko nimbly avoids the crackling electricity sizzling around inside the _ironstorm’s_ area.   

“That’s the easy one,” thinks Dranko to himself.  “Now the hard part.”

“Here it comes,” says Aravis.  

He casts _chain lightning_ at Dranko.  In seconds the whole hemisphere of iron bits is filled with a raging storm of electricity.  Dranko ducks, weaves, swivels…

“Aaaaaaaaahhhhrrrgg!”

…and falls to the ground, horribly burned.   He crawls out from the _ironstorm_ and heals himself up.  Fresh scars appear all over his body.

“Do you want to stop?” asks Grey Wolf.

“No!  I think I almost had it that time.   Give me a minute, though.”

Dranko casts _protection from elements:  lightning_ on himself this time before going back into the mass of iron filings.

“Ready?” asks Aravis.

“Guys?” calls Flicker from his tree.  No one listens to him.

Dranko steels himself, and Aravis casts another _chain lightning_.  Dranko is absolutely ready this time – and _still_ can’t dodge out of the way.  There’s too much lightning, no gaps, no places to lunge and turn.  The protective spell absorbs all the damage but his shirt is somewhat seared.  

“One more time,” he insists.  “Aravis, you have one more today, right?”

“I do, but…”

Dranko casts _resist elements: lightning_ on himself.  

“That should be enough.  Come on, one more.”

“Guys, we should…”

Flicker is interrupted by Aravis's third _chain lightning,_ which burns new patches of skin off of Dranko’s body.  The _resist elements_ helps, but not entirely.  Again he crawls out from the _ironstorm_, and lies on the grass, bleeding.

“Guys!” shouts Flicker.

“What is it?” asks Grey Wolf, finally hearing him.

“Er… Morningstar is here.” 

Morningstar had crested the closest hill just in time to see Aravis cast his third spell.  Now she bursts into the clearing, her face livid.   Dranko is lying on the ground, with Aravis and Grey Wolf standing over him.  The hair on all three of their heads is standing almost straight out. 

“What… what are you doing?” she cries.  “Aravis, what is going on here?  Grey Wolf?  Explain!”

Dranko rolls and looks up at his fiancee standing over him.

“I’m trying to make sure I survive the next time we want to…”

“Be quiet,” snaps Morningstar.  She casts _heal_ on him.

“I… you… I… “

Unable to find adequate words for Dranko, she turns on Aravis.

“You should know better!” she shouts.

Aravis looks sheepish as Dranko gets to his feet.

“If it makes you feel better, I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I never want to get caught in an _ironstorm/chain lightning_ again.  Grey Wolf’s I can dodge, no problem, but Aravis’ _chain lightning_ I can’t get the hang of.  It comes from everywhere!  It… er, I… uh, yeah.”

“This experiment is over,” says Morningstar flatly.  She turns around and marches back toward town.  A few minutes later the other four follow her.    By this time there are several spits of meat turning over fires in the town square, where the feast is taking place.

Grey Wolf turns to Dranko has they approach.

“Smells like something other than you is cooking,” he says grinning.

…to be continued…


----------



## RangerWickett

Ah, I love combo attacks.  Did I ever mention the "Damien throws his spiked chain; the druid casts _entangle_" combo?  They called it Quake with Fear, based on an attack from the anime Ronin Warriors (also called Samurai Troopers).  I let the druid come up with a metal-based version of entangle so they could use the combo more often.  

It's good to see that my players aren't the only crazy ones doing this kind of stuff.

By the way, to Kevin, nice metaphor there.


----------



## LightPhoenix

*Re: Re: Thanks for the weekend's entertainment*



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> “Yondalla’s raisin bagels!” Ernie exclaims.  *




I almost snorted pasta out of my nose when I read this.  Just thought you'd like to know.


----------



## bertman4

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *
> Really?  It's working for me.  Are you trying this URL?
> 
> http://home.comcast.net/~dorian.hart/charagan.html
> 
> -Sagiro
> *




Nope. The URL I had bookmarked was
http://home.comcast.net/~dorian/archives.html
Thanks. Now I can go dig around again.

Bertman


----------



## Shmoo

Which book is _Ironstorm_ in?


----------



## anon

*Ironstorm*

Yes, I am curious too.  What book?  and how are you letting it interact with Lightning Bolt and/or Chain Lightning?


----------



## Sidereal Knight

Shmoo said:
			
		

> *Which book is Ironstorm in? *




I believe it's in _Relics and Rituals_.


----------



## Sagiro

_Iron Storm_, as *Sidereal Knight* says, is from _Relics and Rituals_.  It's a 3rd-level arcane spell that creates a cloud of whirling iron filings in the same area as a _fireball_ (20' radius).  It persists for 1 round/level, doing 1d10 damage per round (Reflex half) to anything inside.

The relevant bit to Dranko's practicing is that any electricity passing within 60' of the iron filings gets sucked into the area, doing its damage to anything currently in the _iron storm_.  In essence, it lets you cast _lightning bolt_ in the shape of a _fireball_ at the cost of two spells.  But if a _chain lightning_ is cast near an _iron storm_, the secondary bolts add an additional 4d6 of damage.  So if Aravis (12th level) casts _chain lightning_ near an _iron storm_, it does 16d6 (Reflex half) to anyone unlucky or foolish enough to be inside.   Aravis has a 25 INT (starting 18, +3 for level increases, +4 for a _headband of intellect_ he made for himself.)   And he has Spell Focus: Evocation.  That gives his _chain lightning_ a save DC of 10+6+7+2 = 25.  In theory Dranko should make this save about half the time, but his luck has been atrocious.  


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 198*_

It is hard to say how much the folk of Green Valley are enjoying the party.  On the one hand they are wolfing down everything that Ernie had a hand in preparing.   (In fact, within half and hour almost all of his pies, breads, stews and roasts are gone, leaving most people to consume food cooked by others that, while perfectly good, is not quite so _perfect_.)  

On the other hand, the crowd is anything but jolly.  There is no singing or dancing the way there was with the Yuja.  The people are clustered into garrulous knots, leaning in and talking earnestly, occasionally throwing ill-hidden glances at the Company and at Tog.

Before much more than an hour has passed Tog stands up on a platform built for this occasion and waves his arms.  In seconds the crowd quiets, since this is what they’re really here for.   Hundreds of faces are turned to face the village Elder, who clears his throat, mumbles a quick prayer to the Antlered God that he will not be stoned on the spot, and begins to speak.

He tells his people everything, with little preamble and no apologies.  When he describes his walkabout of a decade past, and the blue portal deep in the woods, the crows starts to murmur angrily.  When he talks about the horrible monster in the cave and the lightning bolt it hurled at him, he gets angry himself, challenging the men and women before him. 

“Would you have had me send you to your certain deaths?  I know that there are few among you who would refrain from going in there, knowing of its existence.  I made the choice of protecting your lives.  I am your Elder!  I am sworn to the Antlered God to protect you, and by his Godly form I shall!”

The crowd grows quiet again but the looks they give to Tog are unconvinced.   The Elder takes another deep breath and continues.

“Tomorrow these newcomers will begin the journey to the hidden cave.”

He gestures toward the Company and hundreds of heads turn to look at them.  Tog keeps talking.

“I will go with them, along with a dozen men and women of Green Valley, to stand witness.  We will wait outside the cave for three days while these heroes enter and do battle with the Beast.  If they have not returned in three days time, it will be proof enough that they are dead, and that the Beast is too powerful, too dangerous.   If they come out victorious, then together we will work out a plan for exploring that cave and whatever might be beyond it.”

The assemblage breaks out into dozens of chattering pockets.  After about a minute, during which Tog waits patiently, a teenaged boy (in appearance) shouts over the noise.   The Company recognizes him as Reyn, one of the two hunters they saw when they first came to this world.   He does not look happy.

“So!  Elder Tog!” he calls, and the people stop their talking to listen.  “Please excuse my skepticism, but… understand I’m doubtful because we’ve just learned you haven’t been quite forthcoming for this last _decade._”

He sneers as he says ‘decade,’ and some of the people around him nod.  Reyn continues:

“But it seems to me that part of this plan could involve you and the newcomers agreeing that they won’t come back no matter _what_ they find.  How can you guarantee that just because they don’t come back, that it’s too dangerous for us to go in after them?”

“He’s right!” someone shouts a man from the back.

“Yeah, what do you say to that?” cries a ten-year-old girl.

Tog turns red. 

“Are there any among you who would be willing to risk your lives, to test the veracity of what I’m saying?” he shouts back at them.   “I’m not talking about some vague theoretical risk.  I’ve told you what is in there.   One of you who thinks I am deceiving you, you can go into the cave yourself with a rope around your waist, once the heroes have had their try.   We’ll wait five minutes and pull you out again.  Others of you can see for yourselves what gets pulled out, whether that’s a live person with a tale of what they saw, or a corpse!  Either way my point shall have been have made.  If you doubt my word, I’ll await a volunteer.”

Tog storms off his platform and joins the Company off to the side while the crowd talks animatedly about his challenge.

“I don’t hold you personally responsible,” he says.  “But your arrival has unraveled the control I had over my people.  Things are coming to head.   If I have to throw one life away to save the rest, I will.”


* *

The Company wakes to a light warm rain.   The whole town is out and milling around the town square; there’s been plenty of talk overnight, and now it looks like about a hundred people are going to go with them into the forest.  Del is (unsurprisingly) among them, wearing a full pack that threatens to topple her six-year-old’s body.

She walks over to Aravis, who casts _tongues_ as she approaches.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” she says, grimacing.  “About Tog holding out on us all this time.”

“Yes,” Aravis agrees.  “He knows a possible way out.  And ten years ago he almost died trying to see where it went, what was there.  If he almost died, do you think anyone else in the village would have made it out alive?”

“By themselves?  Probably not.  I wouldn’t have been much use.”

She looks contemptuously at her own body.

“But we have strong men, strong women in the village.  How do we know fifty of them, or a hundred, couldn’t have killed this beast?”

“Tog believes it wouldn’t have helped.  Maybe he was wrong in not giving you the choice, but he didn’t do it because he was evil.  His only desire was to protect you.”  

“I know.”

Del lets out a big sigh.

“Well, you’ll just have to kill it, and come back, and let us know it’s safe.  And then we’ll go looking for our own answers.”

Led by Tog and the Company, the hundred people (with a few ponies to carry supplies) march up the muddy ground on the far side of the valley.  Dranko makes up a vaguely obscene marching song in Charagan common and teaches the people of Green Valley to sing it.   It’s a three-day trek through the woods, with the townsfolk trailing out behind and the stragglers catching up by nightfall.

On the second night, while the throng is pitching tents and preparing cook-fires, Kibi sits down with his back against a mossy boulder.   For a month now he has felt the strange power of this world humming in his bones, not knowing what it might mean.  But a feeling has been growing in his mind, particularly when he communicates with Scree.   Twice now he has suppressed the urge to follow his familiar into the solid ground.   During the day’s march a wonderful  idea had come to him.  He had mentioned it to Dranko and Grey Wolf in passing, and had grown more and more certain.

“Scree?”

“Yes Kibi?”

“I think I can follow you underground.  Go somewhere, and I’ll try keeping up.”

The earth elemental regards him with its blue gemstone eyes.   Kibi gets the feeling that it’s grinning at him.  Scree flips one of the smaller rocks from its body up at Kibi, where it plinks off the dwarf’s shoulder.  Kibi looks at his familiar curiously.

“Tag!”  says Scree, a second before sinking into ground.   Kibi concentrates for a moment and his body ripples with energy.  Then he, too, sinks into the ground*.

Grey Wolf looks up from his spellbook at the sight.

“We seem to have lost a wizard,” he says, smiling inwardly.

Ernie and Flicker, not privy to the experiment,  go running over to where Kibi was and examine the ground.  

“Kibi!  Kibi!”

“Something ate Kibi!” Flicker cries.

“Guess the earth ate him,” says Dranko unconcernedly, and heartily enjoying the halflings’ panic.  “There’s only one thing to do now.  Divvy up his stuff.”

It’s dark, and Kibi’s natural _darkvision_ has no meaning.   He almost panics.  But after only a few seconds he feels like an otter that has finally learned it can swim.  Indeed, the earth and rock flows around his body like water, providing buoyancy when he desires but parting before him in any direction he wishes to move.

And he _feels_.  He feels vibrations running through the ground.  He can tell where the mass of people moves above him on the surface, and where Scree is moving about nearby.   Some new sense awakens in him, a sense of solidity, of _density._

Kibi and Scree play tag.  It’s good practice.

“The Earth tells me everything I could see with my eyes,” thinks Scree.  “You don’t need your eyes..  And there’s not much to see.  It’s all dirt.  And some rocks.  Watch out for tree roots; you have to go around them or push them aside.  Also there are sometimes underground streams.”

After a few minutes Kibi pops back up near where he started.  Dranko is handing out his possessions.

“Oh, hey, you’re back!” says Dranko, feigning surprise.  

“That’s my stuff!  I can’t believe you started giving away my stuff,” says Kibi indignantly.

“Next time maybe you could tell someone where you’re going,” says Dranko.

Before bed that night, Edghar takes the two chains Grey Wolf purchased in Green Valley and drops them at the foot of a tree.  Grey Wolf casts his newly-learned _dancing chains_ spell, and they elongate, stretching up to wrap around a limb a dozen feet off the ground.  As they do, razor-sharp barbs sprout along their lengths.  Grey Wolf reaches out and climbs up the chains effortlessly, unhindered and unhurt by the barbs.

“No one’s going to follow you up _that,”_ says the monkey, edging away nervously.

Step thinks only of the Beast in the Cave, and how defending his friends will be the first step on his journey of redemption..


* *


The morning dawns on the day that Tog expects to find the portal to the cave.   The gathered townsfolk are buzzing with anticipation.

“They’re really excited that we’re going off to our deaths,” says Aravis dryly.

“They have faith in us,” says Ernie.

“Only because they’ve known us for just a few weeks,” says Flicker.

“And they didn’t watch Dranko, Grey Wolf and I practicing _chain lightning_ out in the woods,” adds Aravis.

Long-term buff spells are applied and shorter-term spell choices are discussed at length.  Eventually they set out following Tog, who does his best to get his bearings.  It’s been about two years since he last visited the blue portal.  After a couple of hours marching, Tog comes to a sudden halt and motions for everyone else also to stop.  

His brows knit in concentration, and then he declares, “We can go no further in this direction.”

Dranko strides forward until he’s abreast of Tog and discovers that the Elder’s statement is the literal truth.  He cannot take another step further into the woods.  His brain is saying ‘feet, go!’ but his legs just won’t move.

“Step, do me a favor and throw me through.”

Step walk up and puts his arms against Dranko’s back, but finds he cannot muster the will to propel the half-orc forward.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot bring myself to push you,” says Step.  “Perhaps you can fall through by accident?”

Kibi stands back and throws a rock.  It sails beyond the ‘barrier’ and bounces off a tree.  Emboldened he strides forward himself but meets the same mental resistance as the others. 

“As interesting as this is, it’s not really point,” says Ernie.

“But this might be another exit!” says Flicker.  “Isn’t it worth being sure that the cave isn’t the only way out?”

Kibi casts _detect magic_ and sees a continuous wall of dweomercraft stretching out into the forest to the edge of the spell’s range.   He examines it closely to determine its type, and to his great surprise realizes that it’s similar to his own magic.  It’s not a _school_ of magic _per se_; he thinks it’s Earth Magic!  Scree sinks into the ground but like Kibi is unable to cross the barrier. 

Flicker looks at some nearby trees and notes that one of them is bending out and  _across_ the boundary.  And a tree on the other side curves similarly across the barrier to their side. 

“It’s not affecting trees,” he says.  Grey Wolf peers upward but doesn’t see the trees Flicker is talking about.

Step chucks a rock across.  Dranko sees it go right into a knot of a tree.  

“Nice shot,” he comments.

Step glares at him.

“What?  What’s wrong”

“Nice shot?” snorts Step.  “Just because my aim is not as good as yours, is no reason…”

“But you just got it right inside that little hole!”

Step looks at Dranko like he’s…well, like he’s a little dim.

“I missed the tree entirely.  I am unused to hurling missiles.”

Comprehension dawns on Dranko’s face.

“It’s an illusion!  We’re all seeing different things!  I saw Step’s rock do something different…”

“…and Flicker sees trees that I don’t see,” says Grey Wolf.

“This really must be where the world ends,” says Dranko.

“Not again!” says Ernie.

“It’s like we’re back in the bottle,” says Grey Wolf.

“We did not find the edge of the world again,” says Aravis.  “We found _another_ edge of _another_ world.”

He whistles appreciatively.

“Those Black Circle guys sure put a lot of work and effort into this.  I hope we can rip the whole thing apart and make them sorry for it.”

Tog motions to the right and walks parallel to the edge of the world, keeping his hand stretched out so that he can follow the invisible border without “bumping” into it.   The throng follows.  Two hours later they see a thin blue line glowing through the trees up ahead, as they approach the hovering blue portal edge-on.   The people of Green Valley soon see it too.  An excited babble springs up among then and someone runs forward.

“Do not approach it!” shouts Tog.   A hundred people filter into a rough semicircle around the hanging square of blue light, staying over fifteen feet back.   A soft steady hum sounds from it.  The Company takes up positions directly in front of it, observing it closely.  It resembles the portal through which they arrived, though this one does not ripple like a curtain; instead it is fixed in place like a window.  It is nine feet tall and four feet wide, its bottom edge six inches off the forest floor.

At Ernie’s request Tog describes his experience again in detail; after a second or two of cold darkness, he felt a pulling sensation as if were being dragged into the cave by an invisible hand.  It’s just as the Company felt when going through the door of the beholder statue.

“I’ll bet these curtains are like the Black Circle’s maintenance doors, so they can get to places if anything goes wrong,” Ernie speculates.

The Company reviews the plan for half a minute and then begins its flurry of short-term spells.   The townsfolk find this absolutely fascinating – half the party is waving their arms and incanting various spells:  _protection from evil, improved invisibility, shield other, assassin’s senses, bless, prayer, protective wards, mass darkvision_… to name a few.   Since Tog was attacked as soon as he stepped through, the Company is expecting the same.

Brimming with enchantment the Company lines up and starts marching through the glowing blue portal.  Dranko and Aravis take pains to enter at the same time, to maintain the _shield other_ spell they share.  Kibi and Morningstar do likewise.  Behind them the crowd cheers them on with shouted encouragement.

“We’re counting on you!” shouts Del.

There is the dark, the cold, the sensation of being pulled through the void…

…to be continued…


* - From achieving 5th level in his Earth Mage prestige class, Kibi can now cast _xorn movement_ (from the _Manual of the Planes_) once per day.


----------



## LightPhoenix

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *There is the dark, the cold, the sensation of being pulled through the void…
> 
> …to be continued…
> *




Ten bucks says nothing attacks, and Tog kills all the villagers.


----------



## coyote6

Tog and the villagers were, all-in-all, fairly polite. Therefore, they must be the bad guys; the monster is then a guardian keeping them locked up.


----------



## Caliber

Obviously they all created the Stillness themselves in an attempt to become immortal Commoners of Dooooooooom!!!!!!

*cue the ominous music and thunder*


----------



## Metus

I had stopped reading this story hour awhile ago (maybe a year) and decided it was time to play catch-up.  Spent the past few days reading all the posts and here I am!  It's good to be reading the adventures again.  I remember I had some questions coming through it all, but I've forgotten.  Suffice to say, I've had a good time and hope for more!


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

coyote6 said:
			
		

> *Tog and the villagers were, all-in-all, fairly polite. Therefore, they must be the bad guys; the monster is then a guardian keeping them locked up.  *




I don't know, Tog was _just_ bitter enough to be a good guy.


----------



## Dr_Rictus

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Grey Wolf casts his newly-learned dancing chains spell, and they elongate, stretching up to wrap around a limb a dozen feet off the ground.  As they do, razor-sharp barbs sprout along their lengths.  Grey Wolf reaches out and climbs up the chains effortlessly, unhindered and unhurt by the barbs.*




So what do you end up doing about _dancing chains_?  I remember you found the spell as it appeared in the _Book of Vile Darkness_ problematic.  Can it not affect so darn many chains, for example?


----------



## Sagiro

Dr_Rictus said:
			
		

> *
> 
> So what do you end up doing about dancing chains?  I remember you found the spell as it appeared in the Book of Vile Darkness problematic.  Can it not affect so darn many chains, for example? *



I allowed the spell as written, but with the interpretation that the line "making the chains dance and move as she wishes" is flavor text, and not an indication that the chains gain a movement rate.  As such, Grey Wolf must first arrange to get the chains to within 15' feet of whatever it is he wants them to attack, whether by placing them himself, throwing them, or having Edghar carry them. I think that will be a sufficent mitigator, though I reserve the right to make further changes if the spell still seems too strong.

Hey, while I'm here, here's a short but action-packed update:

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 199*_

The Company spills out of a rectangular blue portal into a dark expanse.   As Tog warned, they do seem to be inside a large cave – huge, in fact.   The ceiling is high enough to be beyond the range of their darkvision, as are any walls in front of them.  Here and there are wide columns of stone rising up into air and vanishing as they extend beyond their sight.

There is stone beneath their feet, and something else as well, something lumpy and clanking.  Dranko quickly glances down hoping to see a treasure hoard, but it looks that though they are treading on the rotting remains of about four humanoid creatures.  There are some coins and glimmers of metal mixed in, but now is not the time for a close examination.

The smell is horrific.  It’s a combination of rotting death and the stink of a monstrous living creature.   Everything is pretty much as Tog warned them it would be – except that there is no beast in sight, and no lightning blasts coming from the darkness.   Outside of their own sounds the cave (if that’s what this is) is strangely quiet. 

Grey Wolf glances behind him, and sees that the glowing portal is only ten feet in front of the (relative to them) back wall of the cave.   That wall stretches out to the left and right as far as they can see.  High up some faintly-glowing fungus clings to the stone.  Morningstar casts a _Rary’s telepathic bond_ connecting her with Dranko, Flicker, Aravis and Kibi.  Aravis casts a _mass haste_ on everyone.

“Spread out,” says Grey Wolf.  The Company does so, suspecting that somewhere out there is a creature that would love to find them in _lightning bolt_ formation.  Ernie activates the _fly_ spell on his shield and soars off to the right, hoping to spot the Beast.  He sees more columns, numerous stalagmites, and a disappointing absence of enemies given that  the clock is ticking on their spells.

“Hey monster!” he yells.  “Tasty halfling here!  Yum, yum!”

Kibi scans the cavern with _see invisibility_ as he moves out to the left.  Nothing. 

Dranko picks up on Ernie’s tactic.

“Oh woe is me!” he shouts.  “Just a poor young orc wandering into this cave.  I’m tasty too!”

“And I wish to steal things,” he adds as an afterthought.

“And he’s a little slow,” says Kibi helpfully.  

Dranko glowers, stays close to Aravis, and sets his back to a tall stalagmite.   “Oh, look!” he shouts, getting even more into the spirit.  “I accidentally brought this small tasty goat with me, and a lot of gold!”

Kay hastily looks for tracks as she moves but still can’t see any sign of a large beast.  No fewments, no scales, no claw marks – but it’s difficult for her to track by the black-and-white translation of the _darkvision_.  Step stops to _detect evil_ but senses nothing within sixty feet.  Kibi, _invisible_, advances forward a bit further as everyone continues to spread out …

There is a growl.  A low, almost sub-sonic noise, deep and resonant and echoing through the cavern.  It’s coming from somewhere back in the darkness beyond their vision

“Woe is me!” calls Dranko.  “My elven maidens can barely carry all this gold!”

At the edge of Kibi’s vision, a giant shape comes into view.  It has two red glowing eyes some fifteen feet off the ground.   The front of it (all he can see) has a huge head, enormous tusks, and thick forelegs with sharp claws

“I see something.  It’s pretty big!”

Lightning flashes without warning from the creature’s eyes.   The bolt strikes Aravis and then arcs to Morningstar, but their protective spells (_energy buffer_ and _resist elements_, respectively) absorb all the damage.   Aravis thinks it was a _chain lightning_, but not particularly potent.    He and Dranko (still staying close to maintain the _shield other_) move forward towards the beast.  Aravis stays back somewhat but Dranko (_improvedly invisible_) gets close enough to see the creature clearly.    It’s every bit the nightmarish monster they expected, an oversized, hunched behemoth standing twenty feet tall on four thick legs.  It looks like a cross between a boar and a giant rat, with rough rocky skin and blazing red eyes.  Its tusks are as big as a grown man.  Dranko readies his whip to strike.

Aravis lets rip with a sonically-substituted _chain lightning_, unconcerned about the lack of secondary targets.  The stale air ripples with the thunderous noise of the spell.  Fierce energies play around the body of the Beast.

It’s unharmed.  Either the creature is immune to sonics, or it resisted his spell outright.   It swivels its head to observe Aravis.

“Oh, sh*t,” he thinks over the mind-link.

The Beast lumbers toward Aravis, its claws scraping on the stone floor.  But it doesn’t reach the wizard, instead pausing as it brushes against Dranko.   It sniffs the air for a second, bellows, and spears the half-orc with one of its mighty tusks!  Blood splatters the stones, and Dranko sends a thought of pain over the mind-link.  But he has the presence of mind to think to Flicker:  “I’m on its left, near the front of it, and it knows where I am.  Flank!”

Flicker, fortunately close by, dashes around to the other side of the Beast, tumbles into position, and stabs its ankle with his short sword.  Tendons and sinews snap, spraying thick black blood.  The Beast roars in pain, whipping its head back and forth.  Flicker feels the wind as its tusks whoosh over his head.  Noxious spittle flies from its mouth.

Morningstar checks over the mind-link that the two rogues aren’t near the creature’s back-end, and then casts a _blade barrier_ that overlaps the monster’s rump.  Dranko and Flicker hear the revolting sound of brutally-carved meat from the back of the creature, the roars of which increase in volume.

Step’s eyes light up.  Here is a fight that makes sense!  He grips his broadsword and charges the beast, hardly caring that it rips into him with a tusk as he approaches.  He hacks viciously at its lowered jaw beneath the left tusk.   Grey Wolf, Kay and Snokas, emboldened by the paladin’s rush, also charge forward to attack.  

“Destroy that beast!” the sword Bostock says exultantly in his owner’s mind, but Grey Wolf is too far away to reach it for now.    Kay and Snokas strike the beast with their weapons, and Ernie (still in flight) joins them, slicing its flank with _Beryn Sur_.  The beast bellows its pain and frustration, bleeding from its many wounds.  

Kibi figures he can end this quickly.  Surely this behemoth has a small brain!  He casts _hold monster_, but the creature’s natural spell resistance foils the spell.  He follows it up immediately with _confusion_, but with the same lack of results, and for his troubles he is now visible.

Still, this fearsome beast seems like it will be no real match for the superior numbers of the Company.   From the look of it’s gashed body, it may only be another few seconds before…

ZZZZZZAAAAAP!

Another _chain lightning_ comes crackling through the darkness, from somewhere off to the right of the beast.  Step, Kay, Snokas, Flicker and Ernie are all caught, though Ernie is completely shielded by a _resist elements_ and Flicker evades the blast.   But while the Company is relatively unscathed by this new attack, it’s a rude revelation that there’s a second beast in this cave.

Well, at least for another few seconds there is.  Dranko, invisible, takes careful aim at the wounded monster with his magical whip and lashes out with four sneak attacks.  The first whips around the tusk already loosened by Step’s blade; he yanks back and feels it start to tear from its head.  The second lash of the whip nearly pulls the tusk out entirely; it’s hanging by some strings of flesh, blood gushing out.  The third attack cracks directly into its left eye, bursting it.  And the fourth wraps around the other tusk; he yanks with all his might, and it’s massive head snaps to the side.  The Beast wobbles, topples, and crashes to the cavern floor.

Kay and Snokas look like they’re about to go charging off after the second monster, but Dranko, guessing the monster's claws and tusks are more deadly than its spells, shouts out “Let it come to you!”   The two warriors pull up short.  Aravis takes advantage of the opportunity to put a _stoneskin_ onto Kay.

Out of the darkness to their _left_ a small red pellet streaks into their midst.   Half the party is caught in an exploding _fireball!_  Flicker emerges unharmed, Aravis and Kay are burned, and Step is looking very badly off.  Dranko, while he managed to dodge the flames, takes some sympathy damage from his _shield other_ on Aravis.   There’s a torrent of babble, half-spoken, half-thought over the mind-link.  A mage is here with the two beasts!  Its handler, maybe?  And Grey Wolf thinks the spell came from high in the air; the mage is probably flying.

Morningstar advances until the remaining beast comes into view.  She fires off a pair of _searing darknesses_, and both of them penetrate its spell resistance.  It roars in pain as blood boils out of the wounds.     Grey Wolf activates his vest of _improved invisibility_ while Step _lays hands_ on himself, bringing his health back to serviceable levels.  He grips his broadsword and peers toward the beast, licking his chops.  A voice in the back of his head whispers words of caution, words which he stubbornly ignores.  Kay fires off a volley of arrows; two bounce off the thick hide of the monster and a third sticks in unnoticed by its victim.  

Kibi moves toward the source of the _fireball_, hoping to catch a glimpse of the enemy mage, but what he sees is a _third_ enormous beast!  It must have launched the  _fireball_ from its eyes.  He yells his discovery to the others, thinks for a second, and casts a _wall of force_ (20 feet high and 50 feet long) to separate the third monster from the rest of the battle.   

“Hey Scree, let me know if you sense any other big creatures in here!”

“Okay.”

Scree sinks down into the ground.

The group of heroes in the center of the battle, which has been waiting for the beast to charge, is engulfed in a white fog.  Has the second beast cast _obscuring mist?_.  No, not exactly.   This mist is hot, roiling, shot through with sheets of orange flames.   Flicker, Dranko, Step, Kay and Aravis find themselves not only unable to see, but trapped in the inferno of an _incendiary cloud_.   Dranko hears the sound of magical blades whirring nearby; they stir up the fog behind him.

Realizing the creature is just going to hang back and cast spells, Dranko charges out of the fog.   He escapes the mist and the smell of hot cinders is replaced by the nauseating odor of the beast.   Aravis also sprints from the hot cloud; as soon as he’s clear of it he casts another sonic _chain lightning_.  For a second time he fails to penetrate its natural resistance to magic.  He follows it up with a _cone of cold_, which not only fails to affect the beast, but which catches the invisible Dranko in its area.  

“Excuse me!” shouts Dranko, who fortunately manages to evade the frigid blast.

Flicker and Ernie are next to flee the _incendiary cloud_.  Ernie flies in the direction of the third beast and casts _holy smite_ on it when it gets within range.  His spell strikes the _wall of force_ and fizzles harmlessly.

“Arg!  Kibi!  Stupid wizards, you’re getting in the way of my smiting!” 

“We’re going to have to close,” shouts Dranko.  “It’s not coming near us.”

Step tightens his grip on his sword and smiles.

The third beast snarls at Kibi and charges, slamming into the _wall of force_ at an angle and sliding along as it runs.  Kibi looks on in alarm as the creature scrabbles along the wall until it reaches its edge, where Kibi is standing.  It reaches around the edge of the wall and rakes the dwarf with a mighty claw.   His cry causes Morningstar to change targets; she whirls around and brings a _flame strike_ down on its head.   And where Aravis has had no luck penetrating these beasts’ magic resistance, Morningstar has had no problems.  Whooomph!  

Despite the urgent suggestions from Bostock  (“Charge it!  Hack at its flesh!) Grey Wolf looses the sack of chain from his belt and throws it at the foot of the beast.   From a safe distance he casts _dancing chains_; the two chains grow to fifteen feet in length and tear free of the bag, covered with razor barbs and writhing in the air.   At Grey Wolf’s bidding they scrape against the monster’s thick hide.

On the other side of the battlefield Kibi steps away from his attacker and back behind the _wall of force_.  He casts _Mordenkainen’s Lucubration_ to recall his _wall of force_ and brings forth a second wall, extending the protective barrier another fifty feet into the darkness.

Step, having emerged from the fiery cloud, charges at the nearer foe.   He knows that it will likely attack the first to approach; better it be him.  He has convinced himself that he can dodge the tusks this time, having seen them in action once already.

_not yet _

The voice of doubt sounds again in his head.  Is it warning him?  

“I am redeeming myself,” he tells the voice.

_you are fooling yourself_ 

Step charges.   He follows the movement of the beast’s head as he runs up, planning when to duck, how to avoid the… aaaahh!  He skids on a patch of ground made slippery by blood, just as the enormous head of the monster turns to gore him.  Its tusk tears into his shoulder.  Step doesn’t care.  He swings his sword and opens an enormous gash in its face.   Its red eyes glare down at him.   The Company watches as Step and the Beast face each other, both covered in blood.  Kay runs up and casts a small healing spell on him, hoping it will be enough.

It isn’t.   The beast whips its head forward and up, impaling Step on an enormous tusk.  It leans back on its hind legs and tears at the paladin with his its claws, tearing off chunks and savaging them with its teeth.  As the Company looks on in horror it roars and shakes its head and spits out pieces of flesh in a spray of messy gobbets.   As the paladin's torso and head fly through the air they trail a dim smear of soft glow, no brighter than a _light_ spell, an afterimage, a last careless brushstroke. 

The light of One Certain Step dwindles and goes out.

…to be continued…


----------



## coyote6

Oof. Somebody should've magicked up a steed for the poor old NPC paladin. 

Was One Certain Step's self-incrimination and doubt the last few posts a little example of post-death retro-continuity, a part of The Plan, or what?


----------



## el-remmen

I guess it was time to thin the herd.

I love a good death. .


----------



## LightPhoenix

nemmerle said:
			
		

> *I guess it was time to thin the herd.
> 
> I love a good death. .  *




Man, I've been away camping this weekend, and I clicked "Last Post", and I saw this.  Talk about a teaser!  Even though I kind of figured who it would be...


----------



## KidCthulhu

We've changed his name from One Certain Step to Many Greasy Chunks.

No, Step's moral questions aren't retroactive.  He really was having some problems with the way we've been doing business.  And he's not the only one.


----------



## Zaruthustran

Wow! Bloody good death.

Was Step still an NPC at this point?

-z


----------



## Number47

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> *We've changed his name from One Certain Step to Many Greasy Chunks.*




I will continue to call him One Singular Sensation, even in death.


----------



## StevenAC

Number47 said:
			
		

> I will continue to call him One Singular Sensation, even in death.



I prefer Once Certain Step -- a typo which appeared several times in previous Story Hour posts and now seems sadly appropriate...


----------



## Uzumaki

I'm so sad.


----------



## anon

*But*

Morningstar will bring him back...

Won't she?


----------



## Zustiur

I suspect that even if Morninstar takes the time to resurrect or raise dead One Certain Step, he may feel that by dying when he knew he would, that he has fulfilled his purpose and need not return.

Zustiur.


----------



## Kosh

RIP, OCS.


----------



## Quartermoon

Sagiro, we miss you.

And One Certain Step.

But mostly your story.


----------



## Piratecat

Well, he IS getting married in... (counts) 8 days!


----------



## coyote6

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Well, he IS getting married in... (counts) 8 days!




Oh, sure -- no invitation, no update! 

That Sagiro -- always me, me, me.




Congrats, good luck, and other assorted well-wishings!


----------



## LightPhoenix

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Well, he IS getting married in... (counts) 8 days!




Screw marriage, we want our fix now!  

In all seriousness, congratulations Sagiro, and we better NOT see an update to this thread for _at least_ 15 days.  If there is, by matter of principle I will have to kick your butt.  No harm intended or anything, but prinicples... well, they are most definitely NOT your friend.   

Obviously I failed at being serious miserably... but I tried!


----------



## el-remmen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Well, he IS getting married in... (counts) 8 days!




But. . . But. . . I haven't picked out my dress yet!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Congratulations to Sagiro, and may he and his dice be happy for many many years.

Did I say dice? I meant wife.


----------



## Swack-Iron

OK, enough with this marriage/honneymoon stuff. Is it update time yet? We miss Abernathy's Company!


----------



## Plane Sailing

Hey Sagiro, just wanted to pop in and say mucho congratulations on the wedding, hope everything goes really well and God bless you for your future life together!

Yay!


----------



## LightPhoenix

Swack-Iron said:
			
		

> OK, enough with this marriage/honneymoon stuff. Is it update time yet? We miss Abernathy's Company!




The wedding would be today, the 13th, AFAIK.  I wouldn't expect an update for at least another week.  Personally, I wouldn't count on one until the beginning of October.

Whee, congratulations Sagiro!  If I had money for alcohol, I'd use your wedding as an excuse to get drunk tonight!


----------



## thatdarncat

Oddly enough, Sagiro's wedding is on my birthday... It'll make it easy to remember to wish him a happy aniversery  Congrats dude


----------



## Caliber

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> If I had money for alcohol, I'd use your wedding as an excuse to get drunk tonight!




Who says you need an excuse!   

Congrats Sagiro! I wish ya the best of luck!


----------



## anon

*Congrats!*

Sagiro,

Congratulations!

New marraige tip#13:  Nothing says, "I love you" better than posting an update at story hour for all of your eager readers.


----------



## LightPhoenix

For the record, I will be getting drunk next weekend, and while I have much better reasons, my official one is in celebration of your marriage. 

*whaps anon*

Thirteen is an eeeeeeevil number!

And nothing says I love you better than artifically value-inflated carbon matrices.  Or chocolate.  Or roses.  Or a plane ticket so I can travel to Hawaii.  Yeah.


----------



## KidCthulhu

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> And nothing says I love you better than artifically value-inflated carbon matrices.  Or chocolate.  Or roses.  Or a plane ticket so I can travel to Hawaii.  Yeah.




Actually, nothing says "I love you" better than an update.  Really.  Trust me on this, Sagiro.


----------



## LightPhoenix

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Actually, nothing says "I love you" better than an update. Really. Trust me on this, Sagiro.



If only I could get my girlfriend to agree....


----------



## tmaaas

Sagiro's back. I saw him skulking around Piratecat's thread. 

Time to start the bump-a-matic.


----------



## Seule

tmaaas said:
			
		

> Time to start the bump-a-matic.



Bump!

  --Seule


----------



## Sagiro

Hi everyone!

Sorry I've been away for so long.  I don't even have as good an excuse as you think I do, since we haven't gone on our honeymoon yet.   But many things fell by the wayside during the run-up to the wedding*, and I _have_ been fairly busy since then.  

The good news is, I'm back and writing story hour again.  This admittedly short post will take you up to two runs ago.  (That is, there will still be two more undocumented runs.)  Also, I'm running my game again (either this week or next) for the first time in a month and a half.

(The bad news is, there will be another hiatus coming up while Kodiak and I really do go on our honeymoon, in November.)

Anyways, thanks for the bumps; I hope I haven't lost too many readers with this protracted absence.  

* The wedding was great, by the way.  All of my players were there, including the one to whom I'm now married.  The weather was perfect, the company was grand, and the desserts were fabulous!  



_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 200*_

Dranko looks aghast at Step’s bloody remains.

“Son of a bitch!” he exclaims.  “Aravis, I’m going to move in closer.”

Aravis casts a second _cone of cold_ at the beast.   For a _fourth_ time his spell fails to penetrate its natural resistance to magic, and he wonders aloud if it’s only vulnerable to divine magic.   But with little else to do he throws up his hands and casts a _fireball_… and it works!  The creature is burned and angry.  

Flicker and Dranko move in invisibly and attack.  After the halfling’s blade scores its legs, Dranko snarls, flanks and lands three more expertly-placed whip strikes.  Teeth, blood and fleshy chunks fly everywhere in a storm of flying leather.   When the carnage clears the monster has fallen dead.  

The rest of the Company turns to engage the third beast.    Kibi shouts a warning that he’s put up a 20’ high _wall of force_.  Ernie, who’s closest, flies over the wall and aims himself directly at its head.  It gores him as he approaches, but he shrugs off the pain and lands a slash to the side of its face.

“Any other monsters in here?” thinks Kibi to his familiar.

“I don’t think so,” answers Scree.  “The only vibrations I sense are from you humanoid types, and that one large… thing.”

As Snokas starts his charge across the cavern (slowly, knowing there’s an invisible wall hanging about), the monster tries to open the tin can that is Ernie.   Its right front claw and left tusk scrape off the plate mail but it savages the halfling with its other attacks.   Its right tusk pierces clear Ernie’s leg, plate armor and all.  Ernie feels his consciousness slipping away, blood pouring from his wounds onto the rocky floor some 25’ below.   It takes all of his effort not to black out.   

Morningstar, _hasted_, and with an angle around the _wall of force_, summons an Elder Xorn, placing it directly next to the huge monster.  It immediately senses its conjurer’s enemy and takes a large bite out of the beast’s leg.

“Oooh!” Scree observes.  “There’s a Xorn here.  How delightful!”

Dranko kneels down by the largest piece of Step’s body, and gently closes the eyes with his hand.

“Step, I’m so sorry.  May Kemma bless you and guide you home.”

Then he moves quickly to stay near Aravis, while the wizard aims two _fireballs_ over the wall, well away from Ernie.  One fails to affect the target but the other sears its flesh.  

Ernie vaguely registers some nearby explosions.  Is someone shouting his name?  Everything is growing blurry, and sounds buzz in his ears.   No, wait!  That’s Morningstar.  She’s saying something about healing.   What a coincidence; he himself could use some healing!  On pure instinct he flies, wobbling, down to where Morningstar stands in the middle of the cavern.  

As the rest of the Company converges on this final target, they watch with horrified fascination as the beast annihilates the xorn.  In a fury of claws, tusks and teeth the large earth creature is reduced from full health down to death’s door in a handful of bloody seconds.

Kibi drops the _wall of force._ 

“Wall’s down!  Have at it!”

Then, to Scree, “Still nothing else around?”

“Nope,” says Scree.  “For that matter, I barely sense the xorn anymore.”

Snokas charges, ignoring a goring tusk and piercing it with his heavy pick.  Grey Wolf lobs a _fireball_ to no effect, which elicits a suggestion from Bostock.  

“Spells are useless against it, but I am not!”

Morningstar casts _heal_ on Ernie who has arrived at her feet slumped onto the ground.   Then she slams down a _flame strike_ on the monster.  Kay charges in and smashes it with her hammer.  

Flicker, who has been sprinting invisibly across the cave floor, closes, jumps, and grabs onto one of its flailing tusks.   He plunges his short sword into its massive eye.  Vitreous humor spews everywhere.  He stirs the sword around in the socket, pulls it out, jams it in again.  

He rides down the head as it dies.

It’s quiet.

* *

Dranko looks sadly at Step and punches a nearby stalagmite in anger, not caring that it scrapes skin from his knuckles.  Morningstar and Ernie cast healing spells while Grey Wolf and Dranko gather up the various pieces of the felled paladin.  Aravis looks back at the blue curtain of light hanging in the darkness.  It’s been less than five minutes since they came through from the woods near Green Valley.  He nods his head toward the portal and the others nod back at him with their silent assent.  Aravis walks to the magical gateway and steps through.

There is the cold, the darkness, the pulling, and then the soft light of the orange sun spilling through the treetops.  The collected citizens of Green Valley grow silent as they notice him standing there, covered in blood and gore.  Aravis casts _tongues._

“The three creatures are dead, as well as one of our number,”  he announces simply.

“Three!” exclaims Tog.

“I think it would be wise for you to show at least some of your people what’s inside.” 

He motions to the curtain.

“Are you sure it is safe?” asks Tog.

“I believe it is.” 

Aravis turns his back and steps through the portal, returning to the cave.  Two minutes later Tog stumbles through, followed by six others, including Del.

Dranko casts _light._   The folk of Green Valley look around the cave in wonder.

“It’s not the forest,” breathes Del.

Then they see Step’s remains, and one of the bodies of the huge beasts.

“Three of them,” says Tog, shaking his head.  “_Now do you see?_  I would not have had you come in here, thinking it was a doorway to freedom.  That man was a seasoned warrior with _nine allies_, all of whom more powerful than even the mightiest hunter in our village.  Think well upon the sight of that body, the next time you are inclined to curse me.”

He stops and grows thoughtful.

“However.  There were three of them, and you have slain them all…”

“We don’t know what lies beyond,” Aravis points out.

“Is it safe for us to explore the rest of this cave?”

“We have not explored it ourselves yet,” says Aravis. 

“Look all you want,” says Tog to his half-dozen villagers.  “Tell the others exactly what you’ve seen here.  I’d rather you tell them than me.”

Del has gone white at the sight of Step.   At Dranko’s request Aravis speaks softly to her.

“This is why Dranko raised his voice to you before.”  

Del nods quickly, then runs back through the blue portal followed closely by the others.  The Company is again alone in the cave with four corpses.

They search the immediate area and gather the humanoid remains they noticed beneath the portal.  Flicker notes several objects that are probably enchanted.   Kay goes off to scout further into the cavern with Snokas.

Morningstar raises her head and peers upward toward the high cavern roof.   The darkness here is comforting to her now that the dangerous creatures are dispatched.  She glances down and her eyes fall on Step’s gathered remains.   She feels that with prayer this dark cave will be suitable to _hallow_, a necessary step if she is to raise anyone from the dead.

“What will it mean to Step to be raised by a cleric of the Goddess of Night?” she muses out loud.

“That’s for Step to decide,” says Grey Wolf.

“He has said before that if he died before his task was done, he wanted to be brought back,” says Dranko.

“And I doubt his task was get shredded by a huge beast,” says Ernie.

Flicker looks down at the corpse.

“He wants to die some other way,” he says sadly.

…to be continued…


----------



## Ruined

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Anyways, thanks for the bumps; I hope I haven't lost too many readers with this protracted absence.




Nah, we're still here. =)  Congrats on the wedding!


----------



## Fajitas

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Vitreous humor spews everywhere.




And strangely, all I can think while reading this is _Vitreous humor would make a *great* name for a band..._

Welcome back, and congrats on all the marriage stuff.


----------



## Liolel

You didn't loose me. Ok you probally didn't even know that I read this storyhour but I do and you didn't loose me.


----------



## Blood Jester

Wheee!

Congrats again to both of you, and 'yay' to more story hour!


----------



## thatdarncat

yay welcome back 

*much fanboyish rejoicing*


----------



## tmaaas

Just wandering through, hoping for an update . . .


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sorry, Tmaas.  All we Sagiro fans will have to sit twiddling our thumbs until the end of November, at least.  Sagiro and Kodiak are off on their honeymoon in New Zealand for a month, and we are S.O.L.  They will be having a wonderful, frolicksome time, and we'll be pining.

Guilt doesn't seem to be working.  Perhaps if we all pack ourselves into their luggage..


----------



## thatdarncat

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Sorry, Tmaas.  All we Sagiro fans will have to sit twiddling our thumbs until the end of November, at least.  Sagiro and Kodiak are off on their honeymoon in New Zealand for a month, and we are S.O.L.  They will be having a wonderful, frolicksome time, and we'll be pining.
> 
> Guilt doesn't seem to be working.  Perhaps if we all pack ourselves into their luggage..




gawd, New Zealand for a month PLUS all the Sagiro stories I can whine out of him? Dibs on the big suitcase!


----------



## robberbaron

As I only started reading this Story Hour today, I am actually thankful for the time to catch up before Sagiro gets posting again.

Looks good so far. Can't wait to find out what happens.


----------



## StevenAC

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Sorry, Tmaas.  All we Sagiro fans will have to sit twiddling our thumbs until the end of November, at least.  Sagiro and Kodiak are off on their honeymoon in New Zealand for a month, and we are S.O.L.  They will be having a wonderful, frolicksome time, and we'll be pining.



Well, in a blatant attempt to keep this Story Hour on the first page where it belongs, let me present another G&S-inspired creation.  This time, it's the three mages of the Company, the night before venturing into the Cave of the Beasts, showing off the vocal dexterity that's only attained after years of using tricky verbal spell components... 

(I apologise for the ugly monospaced font, but I couldn't find any other way in vB Code of laying out the three parts with their somewhat complex interactions.  For anyone wanting to sing along (remember to take a deep breath before each verse! ) I've put a karaoke version here.)


		Code:
	

GREY WOLF                            KIBI                                 ARAVIS
A pessimist I am in
  every awful situation
That we find ourselves involved in --
  it's my natural dispensation.
Having faced a doom prophetic
  that my comrades would betray me,
I can say with satisfaction that
  they didn't get to slay me.
Now I've long outgrown my early days
  when spells were somewhat fickle,
And I promise that my [i]lightning bolt[/i]s
  do rather more than tickle;
I can also fight in combat, though
  my sword is prone to natter,
But we'll prob'ly die tomorrow,
  so it really doesn't matter!
                                                                          So it really doesn't matter,
                                     So it really doesn't matter,         matter, matter, matter, matter,
                                     matter, matter, matter, matter,      So it really doesn't matter,
                                     So it really doesn't matter,         matter, matter, matter, matter,
So it really doesn't matter,
                                                                          So it really doesn't matter,
So it really doesn't matter,         So it really doesn't matter,         So it really doesn't matter,
matter, matter, matter, matter,      matter, matter, matter, matter!      matter, matter, matter, matter,
matter, matter, matter, matter,                                           matter, matter, matter, matter,
matter, matter, matter, matter,                                           matter, matter, matter, matter,
matter, matter, matter, matter,      I've spells for all occasions,       matter, matter, matter, matter,
  matter, matter...                    from [i]hold monster[/i] to [i]confusion[/i],      matter, matter...
                                     And if those don't work there's always
                                       [i]magic missile[/i]s in profusion.
                                     When it comes to crafting items
                                       I am perfect to the letter,
                                     For no matter what the others do
                                       a dwarf will do it better.
                                     With the Earth I have achieved
                                       an understanding fundamental,
                                     A connection that I share
                                       with my familiar elemental;
                                     And for those who think a dwarven
                                       mage is naught but foolish chatter,
                                     They had better think again, for
                                       their opinion doesn't matter!
                                                                          Their opinion doesn't matter,
Their opinion doesn't matter,                                             matter, matter, matter, matter,
matter, matter, matter, matter,                                           Their opinion doesn't matter,
Their opinion doesn't matter,                                             matter, matter, matter, matter,
                                     Their opinion doesn't matter,
                                                                          Their opinion doesn't matter,
Their opinion doesn't matter,        Their opinion doesn't matter,        Their opinion doesn't matter,
matter, matter, matter, matter,      matter, matter, matter, matter,      matter, matter, mater, matter!
matter, matter, matter, matter,      matter, matter, matter, matter,
matter, matter, matter, matter,      matter, matter, matter, matter,
matter, matter, matter, matter,      matter, matter, matter, matter,      My journeys have induced in me
  matter, matter...                    matter, matter...                    some changes unexpected,
                                                                          But at least with starry fields for eyes
                                                                            you tend to be respected;
                                                                          Though it sometimes might appear that
                                                                            I am merely navel-gazing, 
                                                                          I am scouting out the multiverse --
                                                                            in truth I am a-Maze-ing... 
                                                                          Of the many ways I have
                                                                            to an opponent's execution, 
                                                                          I am rather fond of [i]fireball[/i]s
                                                                            with sonic substitution. 
                                                                          With a simple invocation
                                                                            we can cause our foes to scatter
                                                                          But our firepower means that
                                                                            if they don't it doesn't matter!
If they don't it doesn't matter,
matter, matter, matter, matter,      If they don't it doesn't matter,
If they don't it doesn't matter,     matter, matter, matter, matter,
matter, matter, matter, matter!      If they don't it doesn't matter!
With a simple invocation             With a simple invocation             With a simple invocation
  we can cause our foes to scatter     we can cause our foes to scatter     we can cause our foes to scatter
But our firepower means that         But our firepower means that         But our firepower means that
  if they don't it doesn't matter!     if they don't it doesn't matter!     if they don't it doesn't matter!
With a simple invocation             With a simple invocation             With a simple invocation
  we can cause our foes to scatter     we can cause our foes to scatter     we can cause our foes to scatter
But our firepower means that         But our firepower means that         But our firepower means that
  if they don't it doesn't matter,     if they don't it doesn't matter,     if they don't it doesn't matter,
matter, matter, matter, matter,      matter, matter, matter, matter,      matter, matter, matter, matter,
matter, matter, matter, matter,      matter, matter, matter, matter,      matter, matter, matter, matter,
matter, matter!                      matter, matter!                      matter, matter!


----------



## KidCthulhu

Ah, Ruddigore.  Or Pirates.  Take your pick.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

*massive round of applause*


----------



## StevenAC

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Ah, Ruddigore.  Or Pirates.  Take your pick.



I definitely had _Ruddigore_ in mind -- I didn't realise that there was a practice of sticking this number into _Pirates_ as well.

(Actually, I've grown quite fond of several numbers from _The Gondoliers_ lately, but it doesn't really suit this Story Hour.  Now if the Defenders ever get back to Eversink... )


----------



## KidCthulhu

StevenAC said:
			
		

> I definitely had _Ruddigore_ in mind -- I didn't realise that there was a practice of sticking this number into _Pirates_ as well.




Yeah.  In the movie version of Pirates, starring Kevin Klein, Rex Smith, Angela Landsbury and Gawd help us, Linda Ronstandt, they steal this number, and even make a tongue in cheek reference to it.  If you haven't rented this, do.  Klein is fabulous as the Pirate King, and Smith is just right as Frederick, which means he's an insuffurable prig, thicker than a brick and a tenor (same thing!).


----------



## Seule

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> ...he's an insuffurable prig, thicker than a brick and a tenor (same thing!).



Hey!  I'm a tenor!  I protest!  
Oh, wait, you got me pegged, actually.  Sorry, go on, you were right the first time.  

  --Seule


----------



## StevenAC

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> ...thicker than a brick and a tenor (same thing!).



But... I thought _Nolin_ was a tenor?


----------



## KidCthulhu

StevenAC said:
			
		

> But... I thought _Nolin_ was a tenor?




Yep, he is.  But Nolin is based on an old friend of mine who's a tenor, and I mock him mercilessly about it.  I'm an alto, so I speak from generations of tenor bitterness.


----------



## Plane Sailing

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Dranko kneels down by the largest piece of Step’s body, and gently closes the eyes with his hand.
> 
> “Step, I’m so sorry. May Kemma bless you and guide you home.”




Just wanted to say that I loved this unexpected show of tenderness from Dranko - such a change from his normal outward disrespectful personality.

I also love the, dare I say "realism" of Step agonising about his position and actions, trying to come to terms with it and ultimately almost seeking his death by throwing himself into danger.

(although I have to ask why Grey Wolf never got around to creating a magical horse for his battles again, especially after it worked so well the first time!)

Cheers


----------



## Pyske

Just polished off the website entries; I like the story so far.  Thanks for posting it.

At the beginning of the thread, things gt a little odd: the numbering skips by 10 installments, and it looks like #140 has been accidentally deleted.  Any chance someone still has that text?

Thanks again for the entertaining read.

 . . . . . . . -- Eric


----------



## StevenAC

Pyske said:
			
		

> At the beginning of the thread, things gt a little odd: the numbering skips by 10 installments, and it looks like #140 has been accidentally deleted.  Any chance someone still has that text?



The part numbers in the Story Hour posts from Sagiro don't exactly match the session numbers in the actual campaign as shown on the website, but a quick comparison will show that there's no text missing from the start of this thread.  However, you're right that part #140 (which corresponds to run #130) is missing from this thread for some reason.  It must have been accidentally deleted when the thread was pruned of extraneous stuff at some time in the past.

However, all is not lost... In my fanboyish devotion to this Story Hour , I have created a website containing PDF versions of all the run summaries (except for the most recent sessions -- I'll get to those at some point...) together with the relevant discussion from these boards.  Click on the "Sagiro's Collected Story Hour" link below to see it.  You'll find run #130 near the end of Chapter 7.  Enjoy!


----------



## Pyske

Thanks, Steven.


----------



## Piratecat

Steven, the song is wonderful!


----------



## RangerWickett

And meanwhile, in an alternate reality, an NPC in my campaign named Dranko Coaltongue finally met the party.  Or rather, the party found him.  They've been looking for him for the past few months, because Dranko Coaltongue was the emperor of the world, and despite being immortal, apparently he was assassinated, leading to the largest power vaccum the world has ever seen.

When they found Dranko, he was decapitated, because his assassins didn't want to deal with him coming back from the dead, and it takes him a while to regrow his head.  They managed to get him back with them, and once he was whole again, they started planning to help him get back into power.  And to my dismay, they kept calling him _Draco_ Coaltongue.


----------



## StevenAC

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Steven, the song is wonderful!



Glad you enjoyed it.  Now if I could just get an Original Cast Recording...


----------



## el-remmen

10/13/03 is _TOO_ long ago for this story hour to have been last updated


Please?


----------



## Piratecat

He's in New Zealand for all of November. I just got an email from him today, in fact.


----------



## Softwind

Drool.

Thank you StevenAC!  Now I can get all my Company goodness in one spot.

If only there was a fanboy obsessed with Defenders ...  
(Goodness knows I've tried to be a good fanboy, but I'm just not that organized, and the years of post-age on ENWorld is too much for me to handle.)


Has anyone compiled the information is easy reader-sized bites?


----------



## LightPhoenix

Piratecat said:
			
		

> He's in New Zealand for all of November. I just got an email from him today, in fact.



Shame you don't have as good an excuse...


----------



## el-remmen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> He's in New Zealand for all of November. I just got an email from him today, in fact.




Oh, what a cruel world it is.


----------



## Kestrel

*Seki*

Has the stats to the Seki been posted?

I really like this monster concept and intend to use in my current campaign.  I've worked up a set of stats for it, but I wanted to compare to Sagiro's version.


----------



## Softwind

*wanders into the thread, whistling.*

Pause

*Listens to the echoes reverberating in the less-than-crowded forum*

While Sagiro is on his honeymoon, I'll just make myself cozy here.  Wish there were a few more people here though, kinda seems empty.  Chilly too.

*looks around for some flamewars to borrow heat from...*



Sagiro, we miss you (and your updates!) but no rush returning from your honeymoon!  Take your time, we can amuse ourselves...


----------



## energy_One

Softwind said:
			
		

> *wanders into the thread, whistling.*
> 
> Pause
> 
> *Listens to the echoes reverberating in the less-than-crowded forum*
> 
> While Sagiro is on his honeymoon, I'll just make myself cozy here.  Wish there were a few more people here though, kinda seems empty.  Chilly too.
> 
> *looks around for some flamewars to borrow heat from...*
> 
> 
> 
> Sagiro, we miss you (and your updates!) but no rush returning from your honeymoon!  Take your time, we can amuse ourselves...




Don't listen to the kitten and his kittenly propoganda.

Kidding, of course. Generally that's the rule, but in this case the kitten is correct. Congratulations!


----------



## Softwind

Aha!  Another person foiled by my clever disguise!  I am really a wolf in kitty clothing... my normal suit is at the cleaners.  Meow, that's the ticket!

Er *clears throat* I mean, Yeah, that's the ticket.  Freudian slip.

StevenAC, how's the compilation of 151 to current going?  I need some bedside reading, and my wife complains of the laptop screen keeping her awake.


----------



## StevenAC

Softwind said:
			
		

> StevenAC, how's the compilation of 151 to current going?  I need some bedside reading, and my wife complains of the laptop screen keeping her awake.



Unfortunately, things have been a little chaotic here lately, due to my computer's hard drive deciding to die on me last week.  

While it was fairly straightforward to replace the hardware, reinstall Windows and get my applications and internet connection etc. back, my most recent data files are locked away on a dead piece of micro-electronics sitting rather sadly in a little plastic box on my desk.  (Note to self: next time you buy software and get a registration key sent to you by email, _print it out, you fool_...   More regular backups would be a good idea too, idiot.  )

I've grabbed the recent posts from this thread again, and I will get around to editing and recompiling them when I can.  At the moment, a certain recently-released DVD (_my precioussss..._) is claiming a lot of my spare time...


----------



## KidCthulhu

Well, since Sagiro and Kodiak are off living all of our fantasies (travelling to New Zealand, you sickos.  I won't speculate on _anything_ else), I say that gives us license to do what we want with his fantasy.  Er, in plain English, let's make up what happens next!

So let's see, where are we [scrolls back].  Right, big cave.  Monsters.  Step is dead, party is bummed.  OK creative geniuses, take it from there.


----------



## LightPhoenix

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> I say that gives us license to do what we want with his fantasy. Er, in plain English, let's make up what happens next!
> 
> So let's see, where are we [scrolls back]. Right, big cave. Monsters. Step is dead, party is bummed. OK creative geniuses, take it from there.



I didn't feel like going to sleep, so I wrote this. Hopefully it doesn't suck. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------

"Death is not the end, but only a transition." 

Vague memories of names once known occupy the fading emptiness of a paladin once living. A book, "Scenes from a Memory". A name, the Scholar. Memories of teachings long since taught, and not yet learned. Light floods the darkness and the light of One Certain Step is drowned.

Light becomes laughter, warmth. Another memory, of a giant beast goring a once proud paladin. A mote of light dancing in the air, leftover from the death of a comrade, a friend. _Bleeding_, the Scholar called it. The light of heaven meets the vacuum of life, and but for a brief instant spills over. Torn apart trying to fill the void, the tiny light dissipates, leaving only sadness.

"Your death will have a meaning, if it comes while you are in fullest pursuit of your heart."

Consciousness snaps back into place. The light fades slowly, too slowly. One Certain Step has heard stories of the transition. This was too slow, too drawn out. His soul felt thin, stretched between the edge of purgatory and the edge of bliss. 

Laughter, warmth, safety. Step sees/saw/feels this place. The Hall of Kemma. The light is gone, and the Hall stretches/shrinks/soars in front of him. It is/was nothing that can be put into mortal words. Step hears/heard/knows a voice.

_not yet_

Happiness, sorrow, peace. Kemma. He is home.

_you are fooling yourself_

Light, darkness, confusion. The words of the Scholar echo in his mind.

"From birth, through death and renewal, you most put aside old things, old fears, old lives."

Pain, rapture, knowledge. Step bows his head and the hand of Kemma reaches down and touches him.

Transition, meaning, renewal. It is time, and light once again fills the universe around him. *Now* it is time to fulfill his destiny.


----------



## Sagiro

Hi everyone!

My wife and I are back from New Zealand, where we had an incredible time.  We hiked, rode horses, swam with dolphins, saw yellow-eyed penguins, toured the Cadbury chocolate factory, hiked some more, saw several Lord of the Rings filming locations, sea-kayaked, met super-nice people, and ate lots of good meals.  

Piratecat and KidCthulhu picked us up from the airport and drove us home, which you'd think was a nice thing to do.  And it _was_ nice.  But it paled before the _really_ nice thing that they did.  We invited them inside for a few minutes, and when I walked through the door I immediately noticed a yummy smell.  "What is that?" I wondered out loud.

"Lemon bread," said KidCthulhu, smirking.

The two of them had made us lemon-bread, and provided us with garlic bread and cheese to eat.  (There was no food in our house.)  And oranges.  And they had brought more bread, ham and cheese to have for lunch the next day.

And they had left us flowers, one bunch on the kitchen table, and another in our bedroom.  And they had _*cleaned our kitchen and bathrooms!*_, that included chiselling away some truly nasty stuff from the back of our fridge and from the stove top.  And they had replaced all the burned out lightbulbs in the house.  And they had folded the end of the toilet paper roll into a point, as they do in fancy hotels.

AND they left us the extended Two Towers, which we watched the very next day!

Best.  Friends.  Ever.

Anyhow, I've gone long enough without updating the Story Hour.  Here's an update!

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 201*_

The rank stench of dead beast has become commonplace.

“Once you’ve smelled a stink-wiggle,” comments Ernie, “nothing else ever _really_ smells bad.”

While Morningstar ponders and prays on the subject of _hallow_ and _resurrection_ spells, Flicker picks through the congealed loot they saw when they first arrived.

“Hey guys, look at this!” 

The halfling picks up a small blue cube, prods it, and is instantly surrounded by a 10’ cube of faint ice-blue light.   The wizards perk up and examine the effect.  Dranko walks through the light with no difficulty; Aravis and Kibi think it’s some kind of elemental resistance.  Flicker taps the cube again and lowers the field.

Grey Wolf casts _detect magic_ on the rest of the pile and finds a number of magical items mixed in with the old remains.  There’s a cross-section of petrified tree with a leather strap; a ring of twisted gold and silver wire; a small golden eagle’s claw; a small silver crown set with six rubies and eight clear glass gems; the blue cube; four candles in a cloth bag; a longsword with a skull near the hilt; a faintly-glowing halberd; and an empty silver scroll tube.

Dranko motions to the sword.

“Grey Wolf, it’s a less-evil replacement for your current longsword.”

Kay has been examining the remains; she thinks the loot once belonged to four humanoids, some elvish and some human.  Lots of the bones have been ground to dust or chewed up.  

Her face wrinkles with something akin both to confusion and deep thought.   The others watch curiously as she stands after a minute, draws a blade, walks over to the nearest huge beast corpse, and starts carving into the body.

“Whatcha doing, Kay,” asks Morningstar, not entirely certain she wants to know the answer.

“I want to look at its stomach,” says the ranger.

“Er,” says Dranko, “we have a _Leomund’s Secure Shelter_ if you’d rather sleep in that…”

“Do you think it ate an Eye of Moirel?” asks Morningstar.

“No, no… it’s just that, after looking around some, I can’t figure out what they eat.  They didn’t live on those four poor people for the past few decades.”

She hacks her way in, disappearing into a disgusting mass of bloody viscera.   

“The Black Circle certainly has been known to keep things in stasis, and let them out later,” says Morningstar.

“If you need a “clean” cantrip after this, don’t come running to me!” says Dranko.

A while later Kay emerges, covered with gore.  She’s no less confused than when she went in.

“Huh.  As far as I can tell, they weren’t eating _anything._  They must have been awfully hungry.   But they seemed strong, not like something that was starving to death.  Maybe things can’t starve to death here.   Or maybe they just have an incredibly fast and clear digestive system.”  

She looks doubtful.

* *

The Company undertakes a methodical search of the caverns.    Kibilhathur moves slowly, almost gingerly, wondering at a strange feeling that has come over him.  When he first arrived in Green Valley he felt a strange power in the world, running through the trees and rocks and even the air around him.   After the battle against the beasts, the power has suffused his being with an energized tingling.  He feels taut with it.  There is some potential locked in his body that is just waiting for permission to be loosed.   He tells the others what he feels.

“Maybe you have something like a Yrimpa?” says Morningstar.

“I don’t _think_ so!” Scree thinks to Kibi with disdain.

Kibi tries to use the power to bring forth what he wants most at that moment: a cask of ale.  What he gets instead is a spray of water from behind as Dranko hoses him with the _Decanter of Endless Water._

“Use that thing on Kay,” Kibi growls.

They keep searching.  The cavern system is enormous, with huge stalactites and stalagmites.  Scales and bits of skin have been scraped here and there on rocky out-juttings.  There are a few piles of old, hardened beast droppings, one of which the party must prevent Dranko from taking as a souvenir.   Kay stoops to examine a couple of them, and thinks that they’re at least a year old.   After some chiseling and more close examination she thinks that, for a short time at least, the beasts consumed their own excrement.

“You can _do_ that?” asks Dranko, enchanted.

“NO!” comes a resounding chorus of responses.  

Kay thinks again that the beasts must have been terribly hungry.

After a few hours, having gone for over a mile in various directions, the Company is satisfied that they have explored the entire cave complex.   (Dranko has scrawled “Welcome to Blackhope Dungeons” on the walls in a few places.)  At the end of a downward sloping tunnel there is a wide pool of water along with signs that the beasts often visited it.  That belies the “beasts were in stasis until recently” theory.  Beyond the pool is the “edge” of the cave, across which, like the end of the forest outside,  they cannot pass.

There are no conventional exits or entrances, but they have found another glowing blue portal.  Kay finds evidence that the beasts occasionally visited the area around it, though not nearly as often as they frequented either the watering hole or the portal through which the Company entered.  This second portal glows blue like the other, a fixed rectangle seven feet high and three feet wide, too small for the beasts to fit through.

“It’s like the Beastiary, but on a bigger scale,” muses Morningstar.

“How do they get new guardian things in here?” wonders Ernie.

“This is creepy,” says Morningstar.

There is much puzzlement.

* *

With the exploration complete, Morningstar now turns her full attention to the matter of One Certain Step.  She starts by casting _speak with dead_ on the piece of the body that has the head and some lung.  The paladin’s dead eyes flicker open.  Morningstar just wants to make this as brief as possible.

“Step, this is Morningstar.  Would  you like to come back?”

Sound burbles up from Step’s open mouth.

“Yeeeeeessssssss.”  

To be sure, she asks one more time.

“We would like to resurrect you.   We will bring you back.  Have you completed your task?”

The words push themselves out from the lifeless lungs.

“I must come back!” 

“Very well then,” says Morningstar.  She quickly ends the spell and turns away.  Step’s eyes close again.

Satisfied, the cleric of Ell maps out a triangular section of a large cave that she will use as an area to _hallow_  At each corner she places a holy symbol of one of the Company’s deities:  Yondalla, Delioch, Pikon.   She invites Kay, Dranko and Ernie to pray, while she does the same, sitting cross-legged in the center of the triangle as she casts.  

While the priests do their work, the wizards set about identifying their newfound loot, and then follows discussion about the best way to divvy things up.  There’s a _ring of protection +3_ for Kay, a _small shield +3_ for Flicker, and Grey Wolf takes the sword which is a _longsword +3, undead bane_ that can also cast _restoration_ 1/day.  Other goodies include:  a _cube of frost resistance_ (Morningstar); a _crown of combustion_ with six charges remaining, that allows the user to cast a heretofore unknown spell called _paroxysm of fire_* (Dranko); a _talisman of arcane extension_, 5 charges, that increase the duration of any spell (Kibi); a _quickscroll tube_, that allows spells on scrolls placed inside to be cast as if _quickened_ (Ernie).  The_halberd +2_ will be given to the folk of Green Valley, and the _candles of invocation_ tuned to neutral evil are destroyed.

Before bed, Kibi (as he typically does) casts _energy buffer_ on himself.  As he casts he begins to tremble as the power surges through his body; he feels like all he has to do is “let go,” and… something… will happen.  He doesn’t know what.  Grey Wolf sees the expression on Kibi’s face and takes a step back.

“I’m going to let go, guys!” announces Kibi.  Everyone else scampers away.  

Energy surges from his feet to his head as he casts the spell, a surge both from without and within, but nothing extraordinary happens.  The rest of the Company looks at him expectantly, but after a few seconds the dwarf just shrugs.

“Oh.  Well, never mind.  But I’ll try again and see what happens.”

He uses his Earth Mage power of _xorn movement_ and again feels the surge of power, but again there is no obvious effect.   (Though as he swims effortlessly through the rock Kibi notes that he can better understand his surroundings through temperature and vibrations.  He can _sense_ where the rock is more dense, and where there are air or water pockets, and where his friends are standing on the surface.)

Kibi pops back up to the surface.  Whatever he let loose now occurs each time he casts a spell or uses an innate ability.  He casts an experimental _mirror image_ and this time the power infuses the spell itself; the _mirror image_ goes off immediately, as if _quickened_.   The dwarf is well pleased.

Ernie, with _tongues_ cast on him, leaves the caves to talk with the Green Valley villagers still camped outside. To the hunter Reyn he says,

“We don’t think there’s anything else monster-y in the cave, but we’re going to need some quiet time to pray for the soul of friend who died in the battle.  Would you mind staying away for another couple of days?  Then we’re going to explore deeper into the cave.  There’s a door…”

“There’s a door?!?!”

“We don’t know what’s beyond it,” says Ernie hastily.

“Can we investigate?  Do you think it’s safe now?  Many of us are eager to explore anything that is not our valley.”

“I think it’s reasonably safe., but like I said…”

“Oh, yes, we’ll give you a few days.  We’ll stay here.  If you come out with news that something has changed, we’ll send someone back to the village to tell Tog.”

As one final matter before bed, Aravis casts _true seeing_ and peers closely at the “edge of the world” inside the caverns.  He sees it as an opaque dark gray curtain.  The blue portals look just the same as they do to normal eyes.

“Welcome back to the Bottle,” mutters Grey Wolf.

The Company falls asleep to the soft, distant sound of Morningstar chanting in the darkness.


* *

After a evening’s worth of sleep, the others wake to find Morningstar still in a praying trance.   With some hours yet before she finishes, Dranko sets about repairing the many rents in Step’s abused armor.  The others spend their time wandering through the caves, or stopping to offer their own prayers near to where Morningstar is casting.

At last she finishes the _hallow_.   The ground within the triangle becomes a black somehow deeper than the general blackness around it.  Morningstar uses the _daylight_ power of her shield, and to her surprise it lights up the entire _hallowed_ area for a moment before shrinking back down it its normal size.  She feels a holy comfort, as though she sits in an Ellish temple.

She looks up to find Snokas standing nearby, cradling the head and torso of One Certain Step.

“Where you want him?” her cohort asks.

She motions for him to set down the body in the center of the _hallowed_ triangle.  Morningstar prepares the components for a _resurrection_, closes her eyes, and offers up two prayers before casting the spell.  To Ell, she prays:

_Dark Lady, I hope my vision is clear and not clouded by my friendship with the paladin One Certain Step.  It seems to me that he is needed for our task and his spirit wishes to return, and that by taking this step I continue in my role as a child of darkness and also of the light.  I pray that in this, as in all things, your Grace and my faith will help me to see clearly though I walk in sacred Darkness._

Then to Kemma, Kivian Goddess of the Sun, she offers a second prayer.

_I know that your loyal servant One Certain Step had some reservations about being resurrected by a servant of Ell.  It was his feeling that if he still had a work to do in your service, he wanted me to try to bring him back.

I am a servant of the Darkness and my heart and soul belong to Ell.  Ell has named me a child of the Light as well as a child of the Dark, and I have done my best to be both.  Day must follow Night and Night must follow Day.  The contrast strengthens both.

One Certain Step has shown me that there is honor in not only enduring Light as a necessary balance to Darkness, but in accepting it.  In watching Step’s devotion to you, I have even begun to appreciate the beauty that resides in the Day.

If One Certain Step is needed to continue his work in your name, then I pray you find me an adequate vessel to revive him._

Morningstar spends ten minutes in casting her potent spell, sprinkling the body with holy water and diamond dust.   Her own body becomes darker and darker as the magic gathers, while Step’s remains grow increasingly bright.  As the spell nears its end Morningstar is just a dark silhouette and Step is a form of solid light.  His glowing torso elongates into a man’s shape.  When the glow subsides, Step is whole.

Morningstar expects there will be some delay before Step is awake and conscious, and all are surprised when the paladin of Kemma sits up very suddenly, his eyes wide.

“It’s okay,” says Morningstar soothingly.  “You…”

“When I died, what did you see?” interrupts Step, his voice agitated.

Several voices break out at once to describe it.

“It was a soft, shimmering, glowing light, that trailed the…pieces of your… corpse.”

Dejected but not surprised. Step turns to Morningstar.

“I’m afraid I must ask a small amount more from you,” he says.

“I can do it,” says Morningstar.

“I will need _atonement_, but now I must pray.  Excuse me.”

And to everyone’s further surprise, Step closes his eyes and begins to pray.

Quietly, Morningstar asks, “Do you mean the actual miracle of _atonement_, granted though our Gods?”

“I think so,” answers Step, his eyes still closed.  “I must pray some more.  I apologize for being brusque.  I owe you my life, obviously.”

“Whatever you need,” says Morningstar.

Step prays for another hour, almost seeming not to breathe.  His eyes open and he speaks to the others, who have not left his side.

“I have not followed the code of my Goddess properly.”

When Kibi attempts to object, Step cuts him off.

“I don’t wish to discuss the details.  But I did learn something in the afterlife.  Why I must die here, I think.  That is why I need _atonement_, and to better myself.”

“Just one statement, and I’ll shut up,” says Dranko.  “If you won’t discuss the details, how the hell are we going to help you do things properly?”

“I must do it without your help!” says Step.

“But if it’s us that’s… you know, leading you down…”

“Have you been led astray?” asks Ernie.

“That is exactly the problem,” admits Step.

“That _we’ve_ led you astray?” asks Kibi.

“No, I did not mean it that way,” says Step, reddening slightly and searching for words.  “I have… when a holy warrior of Kemma dies, he leaves behind Illumination that he has earned in life, that is equal to how he has comported himself, to how he has followed his code and served his Goddess.  I believe there will be a place where that light – my light – will be necessary.   What you saw from me will _not_ be sufficient.”

 “Oh.  But _we_ feel you’re sufficient,” says Ernie assuringly.

“And I thank you.  But, meaning no offense, I am held to a higher standard.”

“I understand that,” says Ernie.

“Well, if you’ve been stealing party treasure, can we have it back?” says Dranko.

“I did not steal!”  Step responds angrily.

“That was a joke!  I’m sorry!” says Dranko.

“Dranko,” says Ernie, “remember the rule about the recently bereaved?  I think it applies in this case.”

“Oh, that’s right!” says Dranko.  “Ernie comforts them.  I don’t.”

“We’ll do whatever we can to help,” says Morningstar.  “Certainly your body glowed very brightly as you were being resurrected.”

“Your doing,” says Step curtly.

“Maybe Kemma felt you still needed your holy light, and so kept it from all leaking out,” Ernie suggests.

Despite himself, Step is amused for a moments and cracks a smile.

“Perhaps,” he says gently.  “But I did go to the afterlife, however briefly.  My experiences there I will not discuss.  But I have come to a certain understanding as a result.  It will be sufficient that I die at the right time, having atoned for my sins.”

“When that day comes, will you want to be brought back from the dead again?” asks Morningstar.

“I don’t know,” Step answers gravely.   “If I have restored my soul properly, I expect not.”

Preemptively, Ernie pipes up, “No, Dranko, You don’t get all of his stuff.”

Step stands and smiles, bowing to Morningstar.

“While life remains in me I am in your debt.”

“Here, have a tusk!” says Dranko, motioning to one of the huge tusks into which he’s been carving scrimshaw.

“I do not wish to be reminded,” Step grimaces.  “The last time I saw that, it _was_ the last thing I saw, as it protruded from my chest!”

“Yeah, I still have nightmares about anvils,” says Ernie sympathetically.

Kibi casts _shrink item_ on the tusk to make it possible to transport, but the power that surges through him floods the spell with extra power.  Instead of reducing the tusk to one twelfth its size, he shrinks it down to 1/144th, affecting it twice.  Now it’s only half-an-inch long!  

Finally finished with their business in the cave, the Company marches down to the blue glowing portal, prepared to continue on their quest for a third Eye of Moirel.   They cast some spells, take deep breaths, and plunge through the gateway into a new unknown.

…to be continued…


* - readers of Sepulchrave’s Story Hour may recognize this; no spoilers please!


----------



## RC Hagy

YAY!


Nothing like good reading during a snow in!


Hagy


----------



## LightPhoenix

I just want to say that someday I really hope to be graced with such good friends as yours Sagiro.


----------



## wolff96

It's great to have a new update, Sagiro, but far more importantly: congratulations on your marriage and what sounds like an incredibly cool honeymoon.

Not to mention having good friends waiting for you at home. 

Welcome back!


----------



## KidCthulhu

Hot diggity.  I'd forgotten all about that scroll tube.  Tells you how long it's been since we played.  

And as for the cleaning and supplying.  Piratecat likes cleaning bathrooms.  It's something about the scrubbing bubbles.


----------



## orchid blossom

I had no idea I would be so excited to see an update.  Hoody-Hoo!

Congratulations on your good fortune in marriage and friends.


----------



## el-remmen

Welcome Back, Dorian!  And Congrats again!

i was so psyched to see there was a new update.  I had given up hope.

I know I've said it before, btu I'll say it again. I get the same feeling reading about Abernathy's Company (if they are still called that) as I did was a kid reading the Avengers comic books - and trust me, that was a _good_ feeling; something I had not even been able to re-capture by going back and getting those old issues out of storage! 

I look forward to more!  Are you all caught up to "real time"?


----------



## Zustiur

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> And as for the cleaning and supplying.  Piratecat likes cleaning bathrooms.  It's something about the scrubbing bubbles.



Are you sure it's not the fumes? 

Zustiur.


----------



## LightPhoenix

Zustiur said:
			
		

> Are you sure it's not the fumes?
> 
> Zustiur.



Actually, I thought it was because it's easier to pretend you're a pirate when you're scrubbing the decks... er, floors.


----------



## tmaaas

Ahhh, an update.

I think I was going through withdrawal. I can only imagine how you players must be feeling . . .

Welcome back!


----------



## KidCthulhu

tmaaas said:
			
		

> Ahhh, an update.
> 
> I think I was going through withdrawal. I can only imagine how your players must be feeling . . .




Our current feelings:

Yay!
Where are we?
What were we doing?
Are we winning yet?

That pretty much sums it up.


----------



## el-remmen

Hey, was Kay's burrowing into the monster's body one of those curveballs players sometimes throw you and then you have to figure out what the heck to do and if you should run with it?

I mean, were you like, "Oh snap! What _did_ they eat?"


----------



## Piratecat

No, Kay's player wasn't there that day. I think it was Sagiro making US wonder what the heck they were eating. Sneaky so-and-so.

And we're going to play tonight - hooray!


----------



## RangerWickett

So . . . could you set up a live webcam?


----------



## jensun

What is this thread doing on page 3, back to the top with you.

Just finished reading the whole thing and its excellent, huge props to all of you for some very interesting reading.


----------



## el-remmen

Knock! Knock!

Helloooooo?

Sagiro, you out there?


----------



## KidCthulhu

We're playing Sunday.  And then again, two weeks later.  Oh frabjous joy!  Two Sagiro's in a month. 

I'll remind him then about the story hour, but I want some Eps, so I can't be too big a nudge.


----------



## anon

More please.


----------



## Piratecat

I finally returned his tape recorder, so he can transcribe games again. And we're playing for the first time in ages! I can't wait.


----------



## anon

How far behind you (the players) are we (the readers)?


----------



## Piratecat

Not very, because what with a wedding and a month-long honeymoon and some scheduling problems we haven't played more than a handful of times in Q4 2003. The story hour lags by three, maybe four games, no more. That DOESN'T mean the campaign is faltering, though - far from it. We're back to our normal twice-a-month playing scheduling, and nothing could make us happier.


----------



## Carnifex

Ah! It's great to ctach up with Abernathy's Company once more


----------



## Sagiro

Hi everyone!

Since it’s been so long since my last update, and since my posts have been so infrequent these past few months, I thought I’d provide a very, very abbreviated plot summary of what’s been happening to Abernathy’s Company recently.  Here it is:

After preventing Naradawk and his army from invading Charagan at Verdshane, the Company is shocked when a secret Sharshun plot comes to fruition.  Somehow the Sharshun have caused history to be re-written, such that Naradawk’s father Naloric was never defeated by the Spire.  The Greenhouse has protected the party from this world-remaking effect, but Tal Hae, like the rest of the Kingdom, is now in the evil grip of the Emperor Naloric Skewn.

The two Eyes of Moirel in the Company’s possession, long kept in the Greenhouse, tell the party that if they want to set things right, the time has come to “travel nowhere,” for which they will need a third Eye of Moirel that is located in Het Branoi (a hidden magical tower) in Kivia.  Using a special teleportation item given them (pre-history-rewriting) by the Spire, the Company travels from Tal Hae (now called Pyke Vale, its original name under Skewn rule) to the Jungle of Dreams in south-eastern Kivia. 

They arrive to find themselves trapped by Black Circle devotees, but are saved by a rampaging giant that helps scatter the Circle forces.  The Company flees under cover of magical fog, while the Black Circle leader screams after them that the universe cannot abide their existence.  That proves to be literally true, as space-time starts to unravel around them, but the Eyes of Moirel are able to use Ernie’s _talisman of stability_ to negate the effect.   

The Company, whose only lead to Het Branoi is an old map-scrap acquired months back in Djaw, makes the thousand mile journey northward under the effects of  _wind walk_, while Aravis and Kibi take turns flying as polymorphed dragons.   Before long they are flying over Branoi, in the frozen wastes of north-eastern Kivia.

Through clever use of _find the path_, the Company gets around Het Branoi’s inherent defenses and finds it located in an open courtyard, inside a giantish town.  The tower is invisible and masked by the illusion of a statue of a huge beholder.  After some run-ins with many giants (including their shaman Eigomic) and some real beholders (mostly miniature ones, but also one full-sized model), they steal the key to the tower and eventually learn the pass phrase to enter.  The jump through the glowing magical doorway into the Tower of Het Branoi, a place where (according to legend) the inhabitants were doing something so hideously dangerous that the ruling faction of the Black Circle wanted it destroyed…

Where they find themselves is not the interior of a stone tower at all!  Instead they have landed in a forest, where an alien orange sun shines down through the trees.  The magic doorway through which they emerge quickly vanishes behind them.  They are in a woods near the town of Green Valley, a peaceful but creepy place where the folk haven’t aged in 11 years.  Tog, the town Elder, has forbidden his people to go far from the town, since he knows that while his people are desperate to escape the “Stillness,” a blue magic portal deep in the woods leads to a cave with a deadly beast.   He has kept the existence of the cave a secret, to protect the lives of his villagers.  The Company goes into that cave via the portal and finds not one beast but three, all of which they dispatch.  One Certain Step is killed in the battle, but Morningstar brings him back to life. 

The beast cave seems to be an entire separate world from the woods of Green Valley.   Both Cave and Valley have sharply defined borders, where despite the appearance that they continue geographically, there is some magical barrier that causes living creatures to balk at passing through.  It’s as if each world is a cage, or a partitioned experiment of some kind.  

At the far end of the cave complex is another glowing blue portal, probably allowing access to yet a third world.  After the resurrection of Step is complete, the Company heads through that portal to whatever lies beyond…


I’ll be posting the next installment sometime tonight… promise!

-Sagiro


----------



## Plane Sailing

Huzzah! Thanks for the recap, I look forward to seeing what happens next (I'd started to lose the thread a little, I'll admit).

Cheers


----------



## thatdarncat

meh I just went back and reread


----------



## Sagiro

...and here's the update!


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 202*_

After an expected second or two of uncomfortable interstitial travel, the Company emerges into a field of tall grass.  Behind them stands the glowing blue curtain that would presumably take them back to the beast cave.

Almost directly overhead in a cloudless sky shines an enormous yellow sun, over five times bigger than the one they know from Charagan.  Closer to the horizon is a _second_ sun, somewhat smaller.   One Certain Step doesn’t know whether to be overjoyed or horrified.  Despite a slight breeze that agitates the grasses it’s as hot as a midsummer’s day back in Tal Hae.   

As they look around and get their bearings, the Company sees that there are other portals here.   There are eight in all, arrayed in roughly circular fashion in a ring about fifty feet in diameter.  They vary slightly in size, with their widths ranging from 2’ to 5’, and their heights from 6’ to over 10’.  Six of the portals, including the one through which they have just come, are the familiar blue color.  The other two are a dullish gray, shimmering slightly.

Next to each of the blue portals is a crude wooden signpost.  The signs themselves show images, not words.   The air is clear enough that the sharper-eyed among the Company can make out even the more distant images.   The sign for the portal through which they have just emerged shows a skull-and-crossbones, and two other signs show the same pictogram of warning.   One sign on the far side has a red smear – it’s hard to make out any details from this distance.  Another sign has an upside-down “V” painted on it.  Finally there is a sign with an unclear yellow design – it could be a sheaf of wheat, or maybe a scimitar.  Parked next to this last portal are three carts, strangely long and narrow with long flat beds.  They are designed to be pulled by people rather than horses.

Kibi notes that the steady pulse of power through his body is still present in this new world, though it’s not as – well, not as pleasing as it was when he was surrounded by the dense stone of the beast caves.

Flicker and Dranko are eager to start exploring, but Morningstar urges the others not to pollute the area with thoughts until she’s had a chance to cast some _thought captures_.   She sets out in a circuit of the portals, casting a _thought capture_ at each one.  Some distance behind her walks Kibi, not wanting to lose the benefits of Morningstar’s _shield other_.  And behind the two of them comes Kay, scanning the ground for tracks.

Morningstar’s casts her first _thought capture_ at the sign with the wheat/scimitar symbol.  The thought:  _"I’m glad it’s not this hot on the other side!”_.  Kibi and Kay note that there are cart ruts coming out of that portal that match the wheels on the carts parked nearby.  The ruts head off toward the center of the ring of portals.

Next to one of the skull-signs, Morningstar gathers the thought:  _“Yeah, that looks enough like a skull.”_

Next to the first gray portal, she picks up a though of vague curiosity.

Next to the sign with the red smear (which upon closer examination turns out to be just that: a smear of red paint):  _”I wonder how they figured out what to put on all these signs.”_

Morningstar notes to the others at this point that she thinks the thoughts are all from different minds.

By the next sign with a skull-and-crossbones, she gets a frantic thought of someone who feels they have just escaped from something horrible.

“More or less horrible that what saw in our skull-portal?” Ernie wonders aloud.

Finally, by the sign with the inverted “V,” Morningstar gets the thought:  “I’ll be glad to see Glaring Peak again.”

Behind Morningstar, Kay is plying her trade.  She sniffs the air, and runs her fingers through some faint footprints in the hard ground.  She looks closely at the signs, and picks bits of fabric and lint from some of the tall grass.  The longer she stays at it, the deeper becomes her frown.  Finally she turns to the group and says flatly:

“Orcs.  These are all orcs.  Some very recent, some old.  All of them are orcish.  Almost all of them simply go back and forth between the wheat-sign and the inverted-“V” sign, as do the cart ruts.”

She shows the Company what she found in the bottom of the carts – bits of grains, corn kernels, blades of grass.

“Let’s find the orcs, harm them, ask them what they know, and then finish harming them,” says Ernie.  Step glares at him, not sure if the halfling is joking or not.  The hot sun beats down on them as they stand and think.

“Is this all one big Black Circle experiment?” Morningstar muses.

There’s a few minutes of scattered speculation on that and related topics.  Aravis is particularly curious about the gray portals, which aren’t glowing as brightly as the others.  Dranko thinks they might be one-way doors.  Ernie guesses they're for maintenance. 

Kibi casts _detect magic_, and feels the now-expected surge of energy through his body as he casts.  All of the portals detect as a complex miasma of magic types: Conjuration, with strong Enchantment and Necromancy, and even stronger Earth Magic of the sort that Kibi himself uses.  The gray portals detect the same as the blue, but only about a tenth as strongly.   (Kibi notes also that his detection spell lasts twice as long as he expected it would.)

The strong Earth Magic in the portals confuses and excites Kibi; the only other person he’s heard of that uses Earth Magic is Cranchus, but from a previous _commune_ spell they know that no Archmage was still existent in this new reality.  

“Remember though,” says Aravis.   “Het Branoi might be immune to the remaking of the world.  And keep in mind that whatever was going on in the Hets was so awful that the rest of the Black Circle wanted to destroy them and end their work.  Maybe because they were using Earth Magic, and the rest of the Circle wanted nothing to do with that.”

“I want to find these orcs,” says Ernie.  “Maybe they know something about what’s going on around here.”

“I want to know what those other skulls are marking,” says Aravis.  Ernie blanches at the thought.

“Kay,” says Morningstar.  “You say the orcs have been through here recently.  How recently?”

“About two hours ago,” says Kay.  “And before that, maybe six hours ago.”

“So there’s the plan, then,” says Grey Wolf.  “We find a spot.  We wait.  We pounce.  We ask many questions.”

There aren’t any good hiding places, unless they all want to duck down and just hide in the grass.   So Aravis casts two _rope tricks_, one just above the entrances to each of the portals seemingly in use by the orcs.   Kibi and Dranko each keep their heads sticking out of the extradimensional spaces, just enough to see when orcs come through.

After four hours of tense waiting and cramped muscles in the _rope trick_ spaces, during which the large sun has been setting and the smaller one rising, the Company hears a commotion of creatures exiting the portal with the inverted “V” sign.   Kibi and Dranko see eight orcs walking through the grass toward the opposite portal.  The two in front are armored and wielding swords, while the other six are dressed in light clothing and carry farming implements.  Another half-dozen orcs follow close on the heels of the first eight, making fourteen in all, four guards and ten farmers. 

Kibi starts his _Ioun Stone of Tongues_ whirling around his head, and Dranko speaks fluent orcish.  The orcs are talking animatedly on mundane topics – farming, their next meal, the weather.  The guards talk with the farmers, making it clear that they are just bodyguards, and not jailers.  One orc squints across the hazy field, thinking he sees something up in the air, but shakes his head and keeps talking to the farmer next to him.

“It’s a target-rich environment,” whispers Grey Wolf to Aravis.

Step overhears him.

“Do *not* kill them unless we must!” he admonishes angrily.

“You cast the _ironstorm_," whispers Aravis, even more quietly.  “And I’ll take on all the bad karma.”

He’s kidding, of course.

When the mass of orcs is about half way across the ring of portals, Dranko drops down from his hiding plane, plants himself in front of the curtain, and in orcish calls out:

“Uh, can we sit down and have a little chat for a minute?” 

Snokas and Morningstar jump down behind the orcs, in front of the portal through which they’ve just emerged.   The rest of the Company quickly follows, taking up positions to prevent any of the orcs from fleeing through their oft-used portals.  Before emerging fully from the extradimensional space, Kibi picks one of the armored orcs who might be the leader and casts _charm monster_ on him.  

The orcs are spinning around and babbling chaotically among themselves.  There’s lots of pointing, plenty of surprised orcish expressions, and enough shouting to effectively drown out the sound of Kibi’s spellcasting.

Dranko clears his throat.

“I’ll repeat myself,” he says over the din.  “Stay there in the center of this circle and sit down, and you won’t be hurt.”

There’s more commotion, but not because of Dranko’s command.  Another half-dozen orcs pop out of the first portal and crash into Morningstar and Snokas.  All eight go down in a heap of arms, legs, weapons and farming implements.   Of the orcs already through, the armed guards draw their swords and the farmers brandish their hoes and pitchforks.  It looks like a melee is inevitable, until the orc targeted by Kibi’s spell shouts out:

“Wait!  Don’t attack!”

The other orcs look at him doubtfully.

“What, you know something?” asks one of the other armed orcs.  “Who are these people?”

“They’re all right, I think,” says the charmed orc.  “Hold on.”

The orcs tangled with Morningstar and Snokas extricate themselves and move to join their fellows.    The rest are extremely alarmed, moving to stand back to back and holding out their weapons.  Only the orders of Kibi’s orc is holding them back.   Various members of the Company prepare to tackle any orc who makes a dash for one of the portals.

Kibi drops down from his hiding place and says in Orcish, “We don’t mean you any harm.  We’re new to the area and have some questions.”

“I think he’s telling the truth,” says the charmed orc to his brethren.  “We don’t want to start anything with them.  They look dangerous.”

“We *are* dangerous,” agrees Kibi.  “But only when provoked.”

“So don’t provoke them!” the charmed orc snarls at the rest.

The farmers are mostly nodding their heads at this, just as happy not to fight with these strange folk.  The armed guards look more disgruntled than anything else, but make no hostile moves.

“Tell us about where you come from,” says Kibi.  “Where do these doors go?”

(Dranko and Snokas translate for the others so that all can understand the exchange.)

The charmed orc sheathes his weapon and breathes a sigh of relief.  He approaches Kibi, smiling.

“I’m Gluk!  Who are you?” he asks affably.

“Kibilhathur Bimson at your service,” says Kibi, bowing slightly.  Kay shakes her head.

Gluk grabs Kibi’s head in both hands and greets him with a forceful head-butt.  The others wince, but to his credit the dwarf doesn’t even flinch.

“So,” says Gluk, “if you don’t mind me askin’ , where d’ya come from?”

The other orcs crowd around, wanting to hear.

“We came in through that doorway,” says Kibi, pointing to the portal through which the Company arrived.

“The one with the skull?” asks Gluk, awe-struck.  The other orcs start muttering among themselves.   

“But…” continues Gluk, his voice rising.  “But… isn’t there a horrible monster in there?”

“Three monsters, actually.”

“Three monsters?” echoes Gluk, even more impressed.

One of the farmer orcs pipes up from the back.

“We should draw two more skulls on the sign!”

“You made the signs?” asks Kibi.

“Well, not me personally, but yeah.”

One of the other armored orcs starts to look angry, and pushes his way toward the front of the pack.  He stays quiet, but glares at Gluk.

“Are you all orcs here?” asks Kibi.

“Of course!” answers Gluk.  “We control everything in this region.”

He puffs up with pride, as do some of the other orcs.  Kibi keeps up the questions.

“Where do these other doors go?  There are others with skulls.  Do they all have vicious monsters behind them?”

“The ones with the skulls all do,” says Gluk.  “Those…” he points to a gray portal  “…we don’t think go anywhere.”

The angry orc finally bursts out of the pack and grabs Gluk by the shoulder.

“Gluk!” shouts the new orc.  “Shut up!”

“Bolg, we can trust ‘em,” says Gluk casually.

“How do you know?” shouts Bolg, incredulous.  “We *can’t* trust them!  They’re strangers.  They’re not orcs!”

“Bolg, believe me, we can trust them.  I’m sure of it.”

“It doesn’t matter if we can trust them!” shouts Bolg.  “We’re not supposed to talk ‘bout certain things.  If word gets back to Haugutter, he’s gonna eat your guts!”

“Is Haugutter your chief?” asks Kibi.

“Yes,” answers Gluk, looking apprehensively at Bolg.  “I… I shouldn’t say any more.  Bolg’s right.”

“How about the one with the red smear?” asks Kibi, unperturbed.   Sensing a possibly shift in the dynamics here, the rest of the party has quietly joined together near Kibi.

Bolg speaks up before Gluk can answer.

“Gluk, don’t tell them about… about anything!  You know the rules!  We should be reporting to Haugutter right now!”

Morningstar decides that if spoken information is about to dry up, she’ll have to switch over to thought information.  At the back of the party, she slips up the Rope Trick, casts _detect thoughts,_ and climbs back down.

Gluk says, “Look, we need to send someone back to Glaring Peak.  I mean…”  he points to the Company “…you being strangers and all.  I’m going to send some runners.  Hey you two… and you!  Head back through and report this encounter to the chief, all right?”

Four of the orcs start to head toward the door.

“Hey!” shouts Kibi.  “I’d  rather you stay here until we’re done talking with you.  How do we know you’re not sending for a big army that’s going to come and attack us or something?”

Some of the orcs start muttering,  “Yeah, why _aren’t_ we getting a big army and attacking them?”  Dranko and Snokas glance nervously at each other.

Another orcs answers:  “Why risk our necks?  We’re not doing anything to them, and they’re not doing anything to us?”

“Hold on, hold on,” says Gluk.  “We’re not getting a big army to attack you.  I give you my word.   I’ll tell my men not to come back with a big army.   It’s just that you’re the kind of thing we need to spread the word about.  By Gruumsh, we could even recruit you if you wanted.”

“What would you recruit us for?” asks Kibi.

“Spreading the Empire of Glaring Peak, of course!” answers Gluk, grinning.

“Ah.  So have you fought against things that aren’t orcs here?”

“Well, sure!  We’ve…”

“GLUK!!  SHUT UP!!!!!” shouts Bolg, his voice growing hoarse from all his shouting.

To be safe, Kibi casts a _wall of force_ to seal up the portal toward which some of the orcs are edging.

“What’s he doing?” cries Bolg in alarm.  “He’s doing some sort of magic!  We should stop him!  Gluk, we should stop him!”

“He’s not going to hurt anyone,” Gluk assures him.  “See?  He’s finished, with no harm done."

Morningstar finally starts scanning Bolg’s surface thoughts just as the four orcs bump into Kibi’s invisible force wall.

“Hey!” shouts one of the confounded farmers.  “There’s something blocking the way.  It’s an invisible wall!”

Inasmuch as an orc can go pale, Bolg does.  His eyes go wide and he looks horrified.  

“Did you just do that?” he stammers at Kibi.

“Er…,” says Kibi.

“Take it down!” yells Bolg.  “Take it down!  For the love of Gruumsh, TAKE IT DOWN!!!!!!”

“Why?” asks Kibi calmly.

Morningstar has no trouble with Bolg’s surface thoughts.  He’s thinking that something unspeakably horrible will happen of you block off a portal.  He doesn’t know what – his superiors never told him.  But they’ve impressed upon him for years that sealing a portal is the worst, most idiotic and dangerous thing that an orc could possibly do.

“Just take it down,” pleads – nay, whimpers – Bolg.  “I beg you.”   

“Will you promise that you’ll all stay here until we’re done talking with you, if I take down the wall?” asks Kibi, still the picture of calm in the face of Bolg’s yammering.

“We can’t make that promise!” shouts another of the orcish guards.  “What of they’re just here to pump information from us and then kill us?”

“We’re not going to kill you,” says Kibi with a sigh.  “But the wall stays until you promise.”

Morningstar relays to the others in Charagan common that Bolg is still thinking:  “he’s got to take it down.  He’s got to take it down!  He’s got to…”

Dranko says, “I’d like to point out that we really only need to speak with one of you.  So if we were *going* to kill you, we would have *already* killed all of you but one.  But all of you are still alive, which means we’re not going to kill any of you.”  

Half of the orcs seem impressed by his logic, and the other half bristles with indignation.  Morningstar switches her _detect thoughts_ to another orc, who’s thinking similar thoughts about the wall.  But then he thinks:  “I don’t trust him, but they do look pretty well equipped and well-armed.  They probably _could_ kill us.”   Morningstar smiles to herself.

“Ok!” shouts Gluk.  “Nobody goes through the Ways until I give the word!  Understood?”

When the orcs nod in (unhappy) agreement, Kibi drops the _wall of force_.

“See if it’s down!” barks Gluk.

One orc sticks his arm though the glowing blue curtain, but before his whole body is sucked through he yanks the arm back out again.   Aravis readies a _chain lightning_ just in case any group of orcs decides to make a break for it.  Morningstar switches her mind-scan back to Gluk.

“I still can’t tell you anything more,” says Gluk.  “It’s more than my life is worth.  Bolg is right.  We have certain laws about what we’re supposed to tell strangers.  I’ve said too much already.” 

He looks apologetically at Kibi.

“What are those laws?” asks Dranko.

“We don’t talk to strangers, mostly.  And we don’t give away secrets,” says Gluk.

“Why not?” asks Dranko.

“’Cause we were told not to,” says Gluk, a bit confusedly.

“You shouldn’t even be tellin’ ‘em that!” yells Bolg exasperatedly.

Kibi translates for Aravis, who says, “Presumably you guys don’t go through the doors marked by skulls.  So those places aren’t part of your empire.  Therefore, anything you know about them won’t be a state secret.  So, tell us what you know about those places!”

Gluk scratches his head.  “Well, I suppose that makes sense…”

“NO!” shouts Bolg, nearly boiling over.  “Don’t fall for that crap!”

Gluk is thinking:  “I don’t actually _know_ anything about what’s beyond the skulls, so I don’t know what “state secrets” I could give away…”

“Do you often meet strangers?” asks Ernie via Kibi.

“We don’t meet them _here_, but we do on the other side of Glaring Peak.

Bolg just rolls his eyes at this point, and starts composing the case he’s going to make for having Gluk beheaded at the next tribal council.

“Have you seen any humans there?” asks Kibi.

“You should stop asking me questions,” says Gluk.  “It’s only going to get me in trouble.”  

But he can’t help but think the answer:  “yeah, some humans, yeah.”

“Do you know anything about the Black Circle?” asks Kibi.  “Or about the…”

“Please!” Gluk cuts him off.  “Don’t ask me any more questions.  I can’t answer them!

Morningstar shakes her head.  The words “Black Circle” didn’t impinge on his thoughts at all.

Gluk leans in close to Kibi and says conspiratorially, “Look, I know you don’t mean us any harm, but we do things in certain ways, and…”  

He holds his arms out helplessly.

“And if the rest of these guys decide they don’t care what I say, I can’t stop them from attacking you.”

“I’m not trying to get anyone in any trouble, really,” says Kibi.  “We were just trying to find out what’s around here.  How long have you guys been here?  Have you always been here?  Who was at Glaring Peak before the orcs?”

Gluk says nothing.   He looks annoyed, helpless.  Morningstar switches her mind-reading to Bolg, who’s thinking:  “We’ve always been at Glaring Peak.   Ha!  As if anyone could take Glaring Peak…”

“Do you age normally?” continues Kibi doggedly.  “Are orcs born, and do they grow old?”

In spite of himself, Bolg thinks:  “Hmmm…. He knows how things work here…”

“I’m not answering any more of your questions, so I’m not sure why we’re still talking,” says Gluk, growing weary of the game.

At Ernie’s request, Dranko asks:  “Is Glaring Peak made of pure crystal?”

Bolg and Gluk both look at Dranko like he’s crazy.  “I always knew half-breeds were crazy,” thinks Bolg.

Kibi manages to squeeze out one final question.

“In your vast Empire, have you seen an Eye of Moirel?  A glowing crystal rock?”

Blog thinks:  “I don’t know what that is, and I don’t care.  We’re not answering their questions, and I’ve had it.”

“Gluk, enough is enough,” says Bolg, stepping forward.  “Tell them we’re leaving.  Tell them they can go back into their Skull Way and go about their business.  If they want an audience with Haugutter, they should drop their weapons and allow themselves to be escorted disarmed!”

“Sorry to have inconvenienced you,” says Kibi.

“No problem at all,” says Gluk.  “Good luck in your travels.”

Then, to the orcs: “Move out!  You four, report back to Haugutter immediately.  The rest of you, back to work!”

Most of the orcs continue into the wheat-signed portal, while four jump through the Way to Glaring Peak.  Soon all of the orcs are gone.  Kay heaves a heavy sigh of regret and holsters her war-hammer.   Dranko examines some crude copper coins and a bit of beef jerky he filched from one of the farmers.  One Certain Step looks very pleased, and bows to Kibi.

“I’ll bet anything we’ll have to go through another one of those skull doors,” says Dranko, flipping one his new coppers on his thumb.

“That’s what I figured the moment we arrived here,” says Aravis.

“The orcs must be a major power here, conquering other peoples,” says Kibi idly.  “And Haugutter seems to know something – that you shouldn’t block portals, for instance.  It would be interesting to know what his secrets are.  Maybe we should visit Glaring Peak.”

“If it’s bad to block these things, there must be some kind of energy moving through the portals,” says Dranko.  “Maybe this place right here is the nexus.”

At his suggestions, Kibi uses his power of _xorn movement_ to make sure the Eye isn’t buried at the center of the portal ring.  It isn’t.

“I wonder if the Eye of Moirel is what’s powering all this,” says Ernie.

“Almost certainly not,” says Dranko.  “Remember that the other Eyes said that ‘the canary has caged the cat,’ which means that the Eye thought it had this whole area under control, but now the ‘canary’ controls the Eye.”

“Maybe the Eye of Moirel _is_ powering the whole thing,” muses Aravis, idly petting Pewter, “but it doesn’t want to.”

There is a long silence after that.  The wind stirs the tall yellow grasses, caring not a whit for who controls what.


…to be continued…


----------



## KidCthulhu

> “Let’s find the orcs, harm them, ask them what they know, and then finish harming them,” says Ernie.




Did I say that?  That was, er, belligerent of me.


----------



## Carnifex

More, more! 

Great stuff as always. I now really want to find out just _what_ the hell is going on with all these ageless pocket dimensions


----------



## Urbanmech

Two updates!  It is like Christmas all over again.  Glad you and your new wife had a great time in New Zeland, Sagiro.



> And as for the cleaning and supplying. Piratecat likes cleaning bathrooms. It's something about the scrubbing bubbles.




Is it the neat little little bubble guys on the scrubbing bubbles bottle that makes Piratecat like cleaning bathrooms?  They make me giggle as I clean the bathroom (or am I the only one?).


----------



## Plane Sailing

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Did I say that?  That was, er, belligerent of me.




I was expecting that line to come from Kay, and was rather surprised that it was attributed to our Ernie...


----------



## Blood Jester

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> "Let’s find the orcs, harm them, ask them what they know, and then finish harming them,” says Ernie.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Did I say that? That was, er, belligerent of me.
Click to expand...


I'm thinking the things I've been told about Ernie are _seriously_ off target.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Urbanmech said:
			
		

> Is it the neat little little bubble guys on the scrubbing bubbles bottle that makes Piratecat like cleaning bathrooms?  They make me giggle as I clean the bathroom (or am I the only one?).




The same ones.  He had a towel with the bubble guys on it as a kid, and I think he's never quite recovered.  But I'm not going to speak ill of a man who _enjoys_ cleaning bathrooms!  Don't want to discourage him.


----------



## The Lone Badger

Yay! More Sagiro goodness.


----------



## Softwind

Whew! Caught up again. Just so I could remember all that has gone before, I re-read the PDFs StevenAC graciously crafted and provided. It still holds my interest after several reads. Yay Sagiro!

Have the character sheets been updated to be current to the StoryHour posts? 
I would think not, since 10th to 12th level seems kinda low for the adventures they are having...

If not, about what level is everyone? My group is approaching "Name" level (for those of you who remember the previous editions of D&D, otherwise, think "10th".  ) I'm giving them more stuff to think about than they really want too, because Sagiro has inspired me. It also keeps me looking for "danglies" in my story, to keep it all tied together. Fun, but challenging!

Can't wait for the next installment!


----------



## Piratecat

We're 12th to 13th - although we're trying to convince Sagiro to give us xp before next game! Dranko is only 1100 xp away from 14th lvl....


----------



## Softwind

Piratecat said:
			
		

> We're 12th to 13th - although we're trying to convince Sagiro to give us xp before next game! Dranko is only 1100 xp away from 14th lvl....



*jaw agape*

Whew!  The way you guys play, I was sure you were almost to Epic level.  Maybe it's just that you have quite a few casters in your group.  Most of my group is melee oriented, not as much magic flying around.  Although that is changing as they level up.

Keep up the good work!  Your loyal fans await.


----------



## Caliber

I think Sagiro's game captures the "Epic" feeling at relatively low levels pretty well. Its been a large source of inspiration (as well as all the other stories on this board) for my campaigns. 

Glad to see you back!


----------



## coyote6

I think Sagiro's game hit "epic" way before the PCs were out of single digit levels. It's the oaths to get friends _raised_, the mystery-wrapped enigmas, the strange creatures (the Eyes, for example), and the cryptic prophecies, amongst other things.


----------



## tmaaas

Ahh, It's good to be getting my story hour fix again!
Glad you had a great fall and holiday season - but you were missed!


----------



## Softwind

coyote6 said:
			
		

> I think Sagiro's game hit "epic" way before the PCs were out of single digit levels. It's the oaths to get friends _raised_, the mystery-wrapped enigmas, the strange creatures (the Eyes, for example), and the cryptic prophecies, amongst other things.



You are probably correct, Coyote6.  I think my campaign feels like the PCs aren't yet "growed up" enough to handle the big goings-on.  Which is a shame, since now that I say that, I realize they really are.    My campaign revolves around the loss of the only home the players knew, for reasons the players do not know.  Only recently, as they hit 9th, are they coming to find out what's going on.  (the fact that two of the PCs died, and came back _different _has helped clarify a few things, but has also added a whole slew of questions...)

I'm trying to pour out more information on the party, without overwhelming them. I'm a little narrowsighted though - most of the quests and leads they have are directly related to each other.  I like how Sagiro can keep all the threads of the story apart, seemingly unrelated, until suddenly the players see the whole tapestry created, only to notice on the otherside the seeming unraveling of it all.  And so on.  Like discovering the unified theory, only to have something else added to the formula that doesn't fit.  (rambles off on an analogy tangent)


----------



## Softwind

Double posts only occur during forum lag.  /nod.

So ignore this, since it didn't really happen.


----------



## el-remmen

Sagiro's game is certainly "epic" to me - and more than anything else reading it has really inspired a lot of things I have done in my own game with various competeing faction and a flood of information that the PCs can be overwhelmed by sometimes, but when realization dawns on them they put things together and carry on, realizing in the process that the more they learn the more they realize that they don't know.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 203*_

(a short installment)

When the conversation picks up again, it leads to speculation about what the orcs might do next.  Is there a danger that they'll brave the Beast Cave portal and eventually discover the relatively helpless people of Green Valley?  Or will their inherent fear of the “Skull & Crossbones” portals prevent such an excursion?  While the Company did indicate which gate they came through, they at least didn’t admit to having killed the monsters beyond.  Dranko toys with the idea of using their _deck of illusions_ to leave a _fake_ monster just on the other side of the portal, but that doesn’t get beyond the speculative stage.

Eventually the conversation turns back to the nature of this weird network of mini-worlds, and what the Black Circle might be up to.

“If I were the Black Circle guys,” says Dranko, idly scratching himself, “I’d make the ‘right door’ one of the gray gates, that people don’t think work.  I mean, they’re not living with the orcs, or off in some field.”

“Didn’t the orcs say they didn’t think those gates went anywhere?” says Kibi.

“I think we should go back and warn the people of Green Valley – just in case,” says Aravis.

“We should go _somewhere_,” says Grey Wolf, growing impatient.

“I’m kind of curious about the gate with the red smear,” says Kibi.

“Someone slapped a bug on it,” says Dranko.

“One horrible gate is just as bad as any other horrible gate,” adds Ernie.

The Company falls silent again, looking around at their options.  Terrible monsters.  Orcish homelands.  Staying right where they are doesn’t sound so bad, really, despite the heat.  An animated and not-at-all serious discussion breaks out for a few minutes about how the Company could just stay in this new two-sunned world, as highwaymen terrorizing all who come through.   When moral objections are raised, Aravis suggests the less-evil-sounding role of “toll-collector,” though Ernie and Step still thinks that smacks of extortion.

When the jokes finally subside, the Company finally gets down to actual business.  Aravis casts _true seeing_ and looks at the portals, hoping for some insights beyond what he gleaned with _detect magic_.  They look pretty much the same, but he thinks that while the blue ones are magical portals, the gray ones are not.   Furthermore, when Aravis extends his gaze into the Ethereal Plane, he sees magical energy is flowing both into and out of the blue gates, but not the gray ones.

Morningstar drops into trance and tries going into Ava Dormo, but to her great consternation the Dreamscape doesn’t exist in this world.  

Eventually the Company decides to discover what happens if someone walks through one of the gray portals. Grey Wolf and Ernie volunteer for the job.  While Aravis looks on with his _true seeing_,  Ernie (with a rope held by Dranko, Kay and Step tied around his waist) walks into the gray hanging rectangle.  Grey Wolf casts _see invisibility_ and follows on his heels.

From the point of view of the rest of the Company, Ernie and Grey Wolf go in one side of the gray plane and come right out the other side, as if they had simply stepped through a large empty window pane.  From Ernie and Grey Wolf’s points of view, the journey is a bit different. 

They are in space.  That’s what it feels like.   It's like the inside of the Crosser’s Maze when they first arrived.   But as unsettling as the Crosser’s Maze had been, this – place? – is much more disturbing.   They feel like the very fabric of existence there is warped and nonsensical, as if either it or they have no business existing at all.  It hurts their psyches just being there.  Worse, there are – things – out in the space, terrible things, things that also should not, cannot exist.  Grey Wolf and Ernie don’t actually _see_ these things, but they know… oh yes, they know.  

After about 10 subjective seconds, the two of them are flung out of that horrid place and back to the relative normalcy of the world with two suns.   They stand blinking stupidly in the yellow dusk.  Aravis with his _true seeing_ sees a strange sort of magic he has never encountered before.  It clings to Ernie and Grey Wolf like a damp mist, but it’s already boiling away, evaporating into the air and vanishing like smoke.

“Nothing, huh?” says Dranko.  “Are you guys ok?”

Ernie blinks again and squints at Dranko before speaking.

“We went to a bad nothing place like space, where there were… things.  Swimmy things, that shouldn’t be.  It was like the Maze, but yucky.  They shouldn’t exist.”  

Grey Wolf just stands there, a stricken look on his face, vaguely echoing what Ernie is saying.  When Ernie is done, he adds:  “My head hurts.”

When asked what these things looked like, they have no answer, and their feeling is it’s just as well they don’t know.  The rest of the Company is startled to learn that the Ernie thinks they were gone for ten seconds.

Dranko points out to the rest that the rope he’s holding is still tied to Ernie at the other end.  It goes right through the plane of the gate.  They untie it and pull it all the way through, and it meets no resistance.  Aravis sees that the rope trails the same magic as Ernie and Grey Wolf, though only for a few seconds.  (Dranko also tastes the rope on impulse, but there’s no special flavor.)  

“We could do that with all the portals in this place and turn the whole thing into a huge web!” he says.  Morningstar sighs and starts praying for _restoration_ prayers, which she uses on Grey Wolf and Ernie to clear their muddled heads.

Ernie says, “Aravis, I don’t think you should go in there, but I’m really curious as to what it looks like with the Maze.”

“I wish I could use the Maze at all,” says Aravis wistfully.  

Well, that was all very interesting, but the Company is no closer to getting anywhere new, let alone finding the Eye of Moirel, so they amble _en masse_ over the portal marked by the red smear.     This time it’s Dranko, Kibi and Scree who volunteer for scouting duty.  They tie a shorter length of rope connecting Kibi and Dranko, and tie a second rope to that one.  Step, Grey Wolf and Kay hold the other end of the second rope, ready to pull in an emergency.    The three walk through the blue portal.

For a couple of seconds, the rope is expectedly taut.  Then (to their obvious consternation) the three holders fall backward, the rope unexpectedly severed.  The end of the rope is charred and smoldering!

“That’s not good,” says Ernie.

“We should give them a couple of seconds to come back on their own,” says Grey Wolf.  “They’re not stupid, and we shouldn’t be either, so let’s not go charging in after them.”

For Dranko, Kibi and Scree, there are the seconds of black void and uncomfortable pulling, and then – heat!  It’s HOT!  Specifically it’s red hot, and that’s no metaphor.  They have emerged into a place where the slightly gelatinous ground is red, the smokey air glows red, and that wide river of flowing magma not 20’ away is certainly red.  There are no trees, or rocks, or any normal terrain features to be seen.  The air is shot through with bursts of bright orange flame.  The only thing besides themselves that isn’t red is the blue portal, which looks almost purple in the ruddy ambiance. 

Their boots start to smolder in about one second.   

Right around the time that Scree says “Er… I’m melting,” Dranko and Kibi’s clothes burst into flame.

“Time to go,” gasps Kibi, and they all tumble back through the blue portal.  When they arrive in the tall grass, they’re still on fire.  Some of Scree’s rocks are glowing orange like hot coals.  Dranko fumbles for his _decanter of endless water_ and has soon extinguished himself and Kibi, cooled down Scree, and put out two small grass fires.  Morningstar and Ernie administer some healing to the burn victims.   Once healed, Dranko and Kibi tell the others what they saw.

“Well, we’re two for two on sucky gates,” mutters Grey Wolf.


…to be continued…


----------



## RangerWickett

This vaguely reminds me of a Living Greyhawk adventure I ran, where there was a tower full of portals that led to different challenges.  The party got there really early, so to add some extra flavor, I added a few more portals, except that these ones led to bland, pointless areas that other folks had cleared out.  Only the dangerous portals still had anything interesting.

Of course, the PCs didn't want to go into the dangerous-looking ones, like the portal with the frozen wasteland, or the one that led to the City of Brass on the plane of fire.  So we had about an hour of me having to make up random locations that the PCs looted around in like they thought they'd find something interesting.  I mean, I kept giving them stuff to do, and made up some clues that the PCs had managed to avoid by not going through all the stuff before the tower.  I tried to make them feel like they'd found the 'secret area' that most groups would miss by going straight for the jugular.  Eventually they went into the dangerous portals, and won the day.

Your group is just the opposite.  You go out of your way to get yourselves killed by grabbing danger by the balls and butting it in the head.


----------



## Liolel

This reminds me of a strange campaign idea that I threw around in my head, but it died before it panned out.

 It was called the demiplane web, and the world consisted off hundreds of demiplanes including many strange ones with several portals on each one connecting to others forming a huge web.


----------



## Piratecat

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> Your group is just the opposite.  You go out of your way to get yourselves killed by grabbing danger by the balls and butting it in the head.




On the plus side, you'll soon see that we managed to avoid jumping into the gate that leads to the negative material plane. Go, us!


----------



## RingXero

Piratecat said:
			
		

> On the plus side, you'll soon see that we managed to avoid jumping into the gate that leads to the negative material plane. Go, us!




We all know that you _ran_ headlong through the gate, tongue thrust prominantly forward and whipping about trying to taste 'pure concentrated evil'


RX


----------



## Softwind

RingXero said:
			
		

> We all know that you _ran_ headlong through the gate, tongue thrust prominantly forward and whipping about trying to taste 'pure concentrated evil'
> 
> 
> RX



Hmmm.  What if the Evil was natural, not made of concentrate?  And would tongue-waggling be enough?  Shouldn't he look for the source, and directly lick it?  Preferably before peeing on it.  (Assuming he still does that? Wouldn't _that_ be evil?)


----------



## dpdx

A couple of thoughts:

- If it's the Black Circle's portal, wouldn't they make it as hard as possible to get back to the real world? So perhaps the right way _is_ through the Plane of Fire, or Negative Energy, or whatever.

- In the meantime, I'm not sure that a bunch of orcs, even with a shaman and some character levels, are going to stop Abernethy's Company at full strength from resting and regrouping _anywhere they damn well please._


----------



## anon

Once again, I say: Sagiro this story hour rocks!!!

More please...


----------



## Softwind

anon said:
			
		

> Once again, I say: Sagiro this story hour rocks!!!
> 
> More please...



*hear, hear*  I concur.

[Best _Oliver_ voice] Please, sir, may I have some more?


----------



## tmaaas

Softwind said:
			
		

> [Best _Oliver_ voice] Please, sir, may I have some more?




Naww - take the seagulls from _Finding Nemo_ only instead of "mine"  "mine"   "mine"   it's   "more"   "more"   "more"

they're harder to ignore. . .


----------



## Sagiro

Sorry about the lack of updates recently.  My wife and I are in the process of buying a house (our first!), and it's a time-sink, almost as much as it is a money-sink.  I can't promise when I'll have time to write the next installment, but it may be a while.  The game is still going, though.  We play again tomorrow, in fact.  We'll see if the Company can prevent the in-progress assassination attempt on one of their own!  Ah, but I won't bore you with the details, and anyway, that's still several runs away from your point of view.    Between now and then there's some undead, a love poem, and lots and lots of sand, among other things.

-Sagiro


----------



## RC Hagy

House... heheheheh...

>coughweeze< pardon me.

Seriously though... before you finally finalize make sure you have the footage you want... then add on half again that amount!

It is scary how fast the rooms fill.
Also, after you move you may not want to move again!



Eagerly awaiting the next update and luck on the purchase,


Hagy


----------



## Wolfspirit

Hey Sagiro, best piece of home buying advice I can give you is to make DARN sure that it's inspected for termites, and if there has been any damage to make sure as to the extent.  When I bought a house with my parents (cheaper to buy a house than put two kids through the dorms), we'd decided to go with a house that had some minor damage.  After having to effectively replace a wall and a shower, we're kinda wishing we hadn't.


----------



## Talix

Just caught up with this storyhour.  After following a sig link (I forget who's, but it listed "Storyhours you should be reading" - Wizardru?), I started in on the campaign website.  It was annoying that all of the links were hard-coded to a previous server and required manual editing of the URLs.  Plus, it was slightly dry in the beginning.

But on my second try, I managed to get to the good part (i.e., the rest of the whole frickin' story! ), and I've finished catching up in the past two days.

I'd like to add my voice to the multitudes who are praising this story hour, the writing and the DMing and the players.  And thank you for taking the time out of your busy, newly-married life to entertain us with the writeup!    

(I really wish I had known about the other fan website - would have made reading the beginning parts a lot more fun!    Oh well.)


----------



## Sagiro

Hi Talix!  I'm glad you've enjoyed the story so far, and were willing to slog through the whole thing up to now.

Let's be honest -- you're doing me a courtesy when you say the beginning was only _slightly_ dry.    For those who don't realize:  the early parts of the campaign diary were never meant for public consumption.  I wrote them for my own benefit so that I wouldn't forget later what happened during the runs.  For the most part it's crude, uninteresting shorthand, and I wouldn't pretend otherwise.   Only later, when I started posting here, did I begin to describe the campaign in true narrative fashion.

If days were 36 hours long instead of 24, I'd go back and rewrite all that early stuff as story, rather than as notes.  As it is, I'm almost done with a special "bonus feature" for all you longtime sufferers -- er, readers, I mean -- of the story.  It's a 20-page "prologue" about what each of the original 7 characters was doing when Abernathy's summons came.  (It's meant to replace the three lame opening paragraphs of the current version.)  I'm only waiting now for Piratecat to get back to me with comments and changes for Dranko's, and then I'll be ready to post it.  (Not that I'm inviting you to hurry him up or anything -- he's a busy man!  )

Regarding the links:  I don't _think_ they're hard-coded to a sever anymore.  If you go to the link on the first page of this Story Hour, it should all just work.  If it's still bad, let me know.

Finally, your last comment makes me realize that I should put a link to StevenAC's jaw-droppingly-cool .pdf at the start of this Story Hour.  

Thanks again for reading!  Now I need to go pack a million boxes.

-Sagiro


----------



## Talix

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Regarding the links:  I don't _think_ they're hard-coded to a sever anymore.  If you go to the link on the first page of this Story Hour, it should all just work.  If it's still bad, let me know.
> 
> Finally, your last comment makes me realize that I should put a link to StevenAC's jaw-droppingly-cool .pdf at the start of this Story Hour.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!  Now I need to go pack a million boxes.
> 
> -Sagiro




I'm afraid so - only some of them, though.  For instance, on this page:
http://home.comcast.net/~dorian.hart/diary11-20.html

There are some middle links to the archives that aren't updated, and some that are.  Also, the bottom links to go to the next set of diaries weren't usually updated when I was reading through it.  Also, a few of the diaries pages didn't have any link at all to the next set of diaries.

Good idea with the pdf link!  

Good luck with the move, my wife and I are just starting to think about moving into a house from a condo ourselves!


----------



## StevenAC

Sagiro said:
			
		

> As it is, I'm almost done with a special "bonus feature" for all you longtime sufferers -- er, readers, I mean -- of the story.  It's a 20-page "prologue" about what each of the original 7 characters was doing when Abernathy's summons came.  (It's meant to replace the three lame opening paragraphs of the current version.)  I'm only waiting now for Piratecat to get back to me with comments and changes for Dranko's, and then I'll be ready to post it.  (Not that I'm inviting you to hurry him up or anything -- he's a busy man!  )




Excellent!  I sense an update to the Collected Story Hour website in the near future...  Hurry up, Piratecat! 




			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> Finally, your last comment makes me realize that I should put a link to StevenAC's jaw-droppingly-cool .pdf at the start of this Story Hour.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 204*_


The next portal they try – one of the two remaining skull-marked gateways – isn’t quite as grim as the previous two, but still is not promising.   It opens into a desert, a vast, sprawling, wind-swept sea of sand as far as the eye can see.  Aravis and Morningstar (the two sent on to investigate) come back a couple minutes later reporting that while they were not attacked, driven mad, or set on fire, there was nothing there that made them want to set off exploring right then.  

That leaves one remaining portal – the third and final one with the skull marking on it.   Losing patience, the Company just piles through _en masse_, expecting any number of unpleasant possibilities.  What they find is – well, boring, really.

They stand on a hard gray plain.  A cutting wind blows cold across it, stirring small pebbles and dead twigs.   Not much light is getting through a low cover of roiling dark clouds.  Thunder rolls ceaselessly across the blasted land.  The only interesting feature they can see are some shadowy hills in the distance.

Snokas shivers.  It’s not so much a cold chill he feels, but more of a something-scary-is-sneaking-up-on-him chill.  He looks around to see that he’s not the only one who feels it; the others are glancing about nervously.

“Step?” says Ernie.

One Certain Step _detects evil_.  He frowns, concentrating, and keeps at it for a good two minutes while the other wait for the verdict.

“I can’t tell,” he says.  “It’s… there _is_ evil, I think.  There is more evil than “none,” but not as much as I would expect if even a slightly evil creature were near.  That’s as well as I can explain it.  It’s an… indirect evil.  But, yes, there is evil here.  It’s all around us.”

The awkward pause that follows this assessment is broken by Dranko, who slaps Step on the back and says heartily:

“Well.  That sucks!  Let’s go!”

Kay looks around for any sign of tracks, or other indication of which way they should go, but there’s nothing for her to go on.

"I hate that thunder,” Kibi remarks.  He looks up, worried.  “Maybe we’ll have to fight some kind of air creature.”

“Good!” says Dranko.  “Kay would be in her element.  So to speak.  Heh, heh.”

No one is amused.  

“Dranko shouldn’t try elemental humor,” notes Step gravely.

“I’m not sure I’d classify that as ‘humor,’ adds Kibi.

With no better ideas the Company heads at a walk toward the distant hills.  Though Kay is confident that she could find her way back to the blue portal, Dranko leaves a trail of copper pieces behind, one every few hundred feet so that the line can be easily followed with a _locate object_ spell.

They trudge along keeping a collective eye out in all directions, though it would be tough for anything to sneak up on them out here.   The gloom settles heavily on their hearts, and the unnatural chill slowly increases.   The cold wind and dull roar of thunder slacken not at all.  After three hours of walking, the desert is starting to seem pretty inviting.

By this time the hills have drawn much closer. They form an wide arrowhead-shaped valley that looks as though it may narrow to a point or a pass a few miles in.  Kay estimates they’ll draw even with the closest hills in about half an hour.

After Kibi makes him _invisible_, and Morningstar gets him on a _telepathic bond_, Ernie uses his shield to _fly_ on ahead to scout.  He skims along about 15 feet off the ground, thinking to the others:  

“Wheeeeeee!  I love to fly!”

“If we tied a rope to you, you’d be just like a big kite,” thinks Dranko.

After ten minutes of flight Ernie reaches the entrance to the valley.  The hills are hundreds of feet high, so he goes up to a height of 40’ to get a better look around.  He notes that the rocky hillsides of the valley are pocked with holes and cave entrances, ranging in size from snake-holes to caverns large enough for a small giant.

“Lots and lots of caves,” he reports over the mind-link.

“Any tracks going into them?” asks Dranko.

Ernie knows he doesn’t have much skill in that area, and thinks maybe he should have let Kay volunteer to scout, but he _does_ so love to fly.  He flies down lower but doesn’t see any tracks.  The chill has grown significantly worse though – the hairs on his neck are all standing on end.   He flies further in for several minutes until he can see where the valley pinches to a close, maybe half a mile away.  At that far end he sees a glint of blue, and some large gray object that he can’t identify from this far away.   Ernie reports all of this to the others, and then flies back to meet them as they approach.

The whole Company is paranoid about all the holes and caves, but there are far too many to explore.   Kay checks a few of them for tracks but finds none.  

“The ground is so hard and dry here, I don’t know that I’d see any tracks,” she confesses.  

She peers into one low cave and gets a particularly sharp chill.  Edgar starts becoming agitated. 

“Grey Wolf, there’s something bad in that cave.  She shouldn’t go in.”

Pewter is saying something similar to Aravis, though Scree doesn’t note anything amiss.

“Kay,” says Aravis, “stay away from that cave.  Pewter senses something.”

Step walks up to stand next to Kay, and senses palpable evil emanating from the dark hole.  It’s only three feet wide, and low enough that the Company would have to crawl into it one at a time, with no guarantee of room to stand beyond the opening.  Morningstar casts _detect thoughts_ and leans down, but senses no minds within the darkness.

“It’s mindless evil then,” notes Aravis.

They press on, leaving that cave behind and passing by dozens more.  Goose flesh rises on all of their arms.   The chill grows ever more severe.

“Hey, up there!” says Dranko, pointing.

About a hundred feet up the sloping hillside to their left is a glowing blue portal.  Heads turn to look at Ernie the Flying Scout.

“Er, gosh, how’d I miss that?” he says sheepishly.  

Dranko scrambles up the hillside to check it out.  It’s a steep climb, but there are crags and handholds, so he makes it up without much difficulty.   As he ascends, though, the chill starts to get much, much worse.  By fifty feet up it’s finally starting to affect him physically – he starts to shiver violently enough that he fears losing his balance.  It’s both a physical and spiritual sensation, rattling him to the core.  He squints up toward the blue doorway above and can see that there are small black spots on its face.

“Aravis,” he thinks over the mind-link, “you know how there was a plane of fire back there?  Tell me: is there a elemental plane of evil death and undead cold?”

“Er… there’s the Negative Material Plane,” says Aravis.

“Right.  That’s what’s up here.  I’m coming down.”

“How do you know that?” asks Ernie.

“The blue portal here has black splotches on it, it’s draining away my strength, and I’m very, very cold.  I’m coming down.”

Down he comes.

“What is the *point* of this place?” wonders Morningstar out loud.

“To drive us around the bend, as far as I can tell,” says Ernie.

“It’s like the Crosser’s Maze.” mutters Morningstar.  “Pointless yet dangerous.”

The chill eases up a little as they leave the spotty portal behind.  The valley gets narrower and narrower, and eventually the party gets close enough to see the blue portal at the end.   Next to it (off to the side) is an enormous gray portal, 30’ wide and 20’ high.

For some reason this prompts Dranko and Aravis to stop and make a map.  They unroll some parchment and draw in all the portal-connections they know about so far.  Ernie uses this opportunity to prepare a meal, and is unhappy to find that it all tastes funny. 

“This place is interfering with my enjoyment of food,” he says.  “I officially hate it.”

Finally they come to the end of the valley.  The two portals wait there, the smaller blue one and the larger gray one, tilted at a slight angle.   On the rocky ground in front of the portals are scattered bones, and directly beneath and around the blue portal are large chunks of worked stone.   It looks like some kind of structure had once been built around or next to the portal but has since crumbled or been smashed.   Dranko casts _know age_ on a piece of stone and learns that it is twelve years old.   He also notes that there isn’t enough of the stone to account for a whole building, even one only large enough to house the smaller portal and nothing else.

Kay examines the bones.

“They’re of a number of different types of creatures.  There aren’t whole skeletons.  There are some human bones, some other humanoid bones, some bones I don’t recognize.”

Something looks like the lower jaw bone of a creature, whose whole size would be several times the size of a person.  She also finds a rib of something about the size of a bear.  

Morningstar shoos everyone away from the blue portal and casts _thought capture_.  She picks up a weary-sounding thought:  “I hope *this* one gets us out of here.”  She casts again.  The second thought is of abject terror by someone who’s being chewed to death.

Dranko casts _detect magic_ and throws his rope through the gray portal.  It flops out the other side, and there’s faint magic coming out off the part of the rope that passed through.  After twenty seconds it dissipates.  He pulls the rope back through and it acquires more magic.  In other words, it acts just like the last gray gate with which they experimented.

Next they fling the rope into the blue portal.   A few seconds later they haul it back.  It’s not burned, cut, magic, yanked away, chewed, or affected by anything.  Since it looks like their choices are now this blue portal, the negative material plane, or the desert, they ready weapons and step through.  

There is the blackness, the pulling sensation, and the Company stumbles out into a bedroom.

Er… what?

Yup, it’s a bedroom.  A large, elegantly-appointed bedroom more than 30’ on a side, with a human sized four-posted bed with yellow silk curtains around it.  There’s a large bureau, a free-standing wardrobe, and fine paintings and tapestries on the walls.  There’s a small night-table next to the bed on the far side.

“Let’s camp here,” says Aravis quickly.  “Dibs on the bed!”

Ernie opens the closet to find it filled with dresses, gowns and shoes.  

“Well, she’s a lady,” says Ernie.  “Or a man with very strange tastes.”

The walls and floor are stone, though there are luxurious (if a bit dusty) carpets on most of the floor.  The walls are a well-tooled gray stone with a blue-stone diamond pattern inset.  Dranko checks the chamber pot, which hasn’t been used in more than months.   There’s some dust on all the surfaces, but not as much as they expect.  The bed has been hastily made. Grey Wolf casts _detect magic_ and detects only the blue portal through which they’ve come.  There’s one door in the room, a fancy wooden door on the far wall.

Morningstar casts yet another _thought capture_.  She picks up a petulant, whiny thought:  “I can’t *wait* until he’s *done* and I can *leave* this horrid *place!*”

Dranko begins a methodical search of the premises, and the others join in helping him.  Ernie listens at the door and hears nothing.   Aravis notes that one of the portraits on the wall is of a distinguished man who looks distinctly Djawish.  

On the night-table are four objects.  Firstly there is a hand mirror, completely round, whose frame is a black circle made of jet.  Next there is a small book with a tattered bookmark and a brown cover.  The language looks related to Kivian Common; Aravis thinks the title is simply “poetry.”   Thirdly, there’s a small kinetic sculpture.  It consists of a bent piece of metal shaped like an integral sign, with a black circle at one end and a metal rose at the other end.  An attached rod protrudes from the center of the metal piece, where it rests in a metal stand such that the whole thing balances perfectly and can spin around on the rod.   Lastly there is a folded-up piece of paper that was tucked under the book.  

Dranko palms the kinetic toy.

The paper is a hand-written letter.  Grey Wolf takes it and reads it, translating the archaic turns of phrase into Charagan common.   He editorializes with side comments such as,  “God, this is MUSHY!” and his reading gets more and more mockingly dramatic.  The letter reads:

*Dearest Bella, I know how curious you are about our great project, and how soon we can return to Djaw.  You know I will do most anything for you.  Not a day goes by when I don’t thank the Circle that you decided to come with me, to be by my side as we approach the culmination of our life’s work.  But please, darling, for your own safety more than anything, please stay out of the rotunda while the experiments are running.   The Source has been having instability issues these recent weeks and I would perish of grief if you were swept away to the Abyss because of a power surge.   As a lesser matter, Master Invhad has expressed a rather strong preference that the rotunda remain empty during all trials.  You know what a grouch he can be!  If anything exciting happens I’ll make sure you are the first to know.  Love you always.  Clouds.*

That gets everyone speculating wildly, particularly about the rotunda.  Aravis and Grey Wolf think it might be the place with the eight gates where they met the orcs, though Dranko thinks that unlikely.

“So this is Bella’s room,” says Grey Wolf.  “Morningstar, that would explain the thought you picked up.  Her Black Circle boyfriend dragged her here.”

Flicker climbs in the bed. 

“Ooooh, this is comfy.”

“Flick, you realize you’re taking your life into your own hands?” asks Dranko.

“No.  Why?”

“Cause Aravis already said dibs on the bed.”

“There’s room for more than one person here,” Flicker protests.

“True,” says Dranko.  “Cannonball!”  

He jumps on the bed, reaches over to the table, and grabs the brown book.  It’s full of mushy poetry, but he can’t find anything raunchy in it. 

“It’s not very good,” he concludes.

Flicker checks the door, which he declares is neither locked nor trapped.  Slowly he pulls it open.  Beyond is a dark corridor that vanishes into the shadows.  At least, that’s what he sees.  Dranko thinks the corridor is lit by torches.  Morningstar thinks it turns left after only ten feet.  Ernie thinks the door opens into a small changing room.  And none of the party can actually will themselves to walk through the door at all.  Conclusion:  it’s the edge of the world, and this entire plane consists of only this bedroom.  

Dranko wants to go keep first watch outside, so that nothing can come through the blue portal and surprise everyone.  Aravis has some misgivings about anyone being out there alone.

“I just want to make sure there aren’t a jillion monsters waiting for us on the other side,” says Dranko laughing.  He hops through the portal.

There aren’t a jillion monsters waiting on the other side. 

There’s just one extremely large one.

…to be continued…


----------



## carpedavid

Great post, just one minor editing error that I could see:



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> One Certain Step _detects evil_. He frowns, concentrating, and keeps at it for a good two minutes while the other wait for the verdict.
> 
> “I can’t tell,” he says. “It’s… there _is_ evil, I think. There is more evil than “none,” but not as much as I would expect if even a slightly evil creature were near. That’s as well as I can explain it. It’s an… indirect evil. But, yes, there is evil here. It’s all around us.”
> 
> It’s gray, cold, chilly. It’s more like a scary something-sneaking-up-on you chill. Step casts detect evil. Thunder rolls overhead. Step can’t tell if there is evil around.
> 
> “I can’t tell. It’s… there is more evil than “none,” but not as much as I would expect if even a slightly evil creature were nearby. That’s as well as I can explain it. Indirect evil? This is a phenomenon unknown to me. Yes, there is evil. It’s all around us.”


----------



## Piratecat

I fixed that. Sagiro's notes got mixed with the writeup.

This was where we ended the session. The next session? Phew. It was a memorable one, and Sagiro deserves every ounce of the epithet "big rat bastard jerk."  You'll see why.


----------



## Blood Jester

Piratecat said:
			
		

> I fixed that. Sagiro's notes got mixed with the writeup.
> 
> This was where we ended the session. The next session? Phew. It was a memorable one, and Sagiro deserves every ounce of the epithet "big rat bastard jerk." You'll see why.



*"He hops through the portal."*

BTW, nice plan.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Errr.  Have ya *met* Dranko?  He's the Master of Bad Plans.

During a recent session we were discussing the Company's collection of Nouns, what we call a characters identification in legend, dream, or prophecy by a single noun epithet.  Step is the Light.  Morningstar is the Slayer.  Ernie is a Wilburforce, whatever that means.  Kibbe is the Opener.  Other party members have had nouns that they seem to have gotten rid of.  Tactics are frequently based on "protect the noun".

Dranko has no noun.  Never has.  He get a little snippy about this sometimes.  Until last session, when I pointed out to PKitty that Dranko isn't a Noun, he's a Verb.  He makes the action happen.  Sometimes by doing amazingly foolish things, granted.  But he keeps things movin'


----------



## el-remmen

Yay!  I'm so glad you updated, Sagiro.

More please!

And can I request Dranko get swallowed whole by something?  I want to read about him cutting his way out by eating. . .


----------



## Carnifex

At last, an update! And absolutely brilliant, too!  Gotta love Dranko...


----------



## Softwind

*Like potato chips*

Sagiro's Story Hour is like a potato chip - you never can have just one.

And I'm sure he's like Pringles.  The mustashe is there.  And he's not greasy, like those other authors.  Um, or something.  I think I said too much...


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 205*_

The creature is about forty feet away from the portal.  It towers some twenty feet high, a huge skeletal body with twelve heads atop twelve long fleshless necks.   Dranko doesn’t wait to see if the undead monster spots him; he jumps right back into the portal.

“Giant monster!” he announces upon his return.   Morningstar, sitting on the edge of the bed, cocks an eye at him.

“Yeah, right,” she says with a laugh.

“No, no, no, no!” insists Dranko, clearly agitated.  “Gi - ant.  Mon- Ster.”

“Your point?” asks Aravis.

“Soft comfy bed,” adds Ernie.

“I don’t think you get it,” says Dranko.  “There’s a huge monster outside that could _reach through the portal and pluck us out!_”

Flicker backs away from the portal.

“I don’t think it works that way,” says Aravis.  “There’s no sign that undead have ever been in here.  And the monsters back in the beast cave never plucked anyone out.  I don’t think you can stick just part of yourself through.”

“I’m just sayin’.  Gi – ant Mon – ster.  And I would sleep better if we just killed it *now*.”

“We _could_ just sleep in a _rope trick_,” says Aravis.

“I’m sooooooo sick of sleeping in stupid _rope tricks_!” Ernie complains.

“And there’s a big comfy bed out here!” adds Flicker.  "We could just push some furniture in front of the gate if we're worried.”

Morningstar clears her throat before offering a more practical reason to wait.

“Knowing that we’re up against undead when we prepare our spells tomorrow will be very helpful,” she says.  Dranko concedes the point.

“But I’m going to have terrible nightmares,” he says.  “Aaaaaaand, the only thing that’s going to make me sleep better would be that big, comfortable bed….”


* *

Much of the next morning is spent debating spell choices and tactics for fighting a huge undead hydra.  Only after many buffing spells are cast does someone bring up the idea of casting _invisibility to undead_ and simply flying and/or sneaking past the creature.  After all, there’s nothing obvious to be gained by fighting it.   (But just in case the sneaking plan fails, they don’t stop with the buffing spells.)

“Maybe it’s not there anymore,” pipes up Flicker, glancing nervously at the portal.

“Oh, it’s there,” says Dranko.

“How do you know?  Maybe it got bored and went home.”

“Flicker, it _is_ home.”

Another discussion breaks out, this one on the topic of where they should go once they escape the hydra.  The negative material plane and the various gray portals are obviously bad ideas.  That leaves the desert and the portal leading to Glaring Peak.  In they end they postpone that decision until they’re back at the two-sun plane.

Finally Morningstar casts _invisibility to undead_ on the group.  

“Remember,” warns Dranko, “if anyone attacks, or even touches an undead, we’ll all become visible.”

Like most of the portals they’ve seen, this one is only large enough for five of them to go through in a round.  The first team is Dranko, Ernie, Aravis, Flicker and Kay.  They jump through, and there’s the cold tugging sensation that pulls them through the void between planes.  When they stumble out the other side, it’s still gray and cold, with thunder rolling continuously overhead.  

The enormous skeletal hydra is still there, very close to where Dranko saw it the previous night.  To the chagrin of the new arrivals, it has been joined by three more just like it!   Collectively the four of them are filling up most of the pass that leads to the distant blue portal and freedom.  The Company can hear the clicking and rattling of bones as all those heads sway slightly.

Worse still, there’s more than just the hydras.  Eight or nine tall humanoid mummies shuffle around, interspersed in front of, behind and among the hydras.  Waves of horror roll off them, and for the moment four of the five party members are literally paralyzed with fear.   Only Ernie can still move.  He sees that the hydras haven’t noticed any of them, but about half of the mummies see through the spell and start to shamble forward to attack.

“Yondalla’s rotten potatoes!” Ernie thinks to himself.

One mummy walks right up to Flicker, and clubs the terrified halfling with a bandaged fist.  Still paralyzed, Flicker topples over.  Ernie winces, wondering if this contact will end the _invisibility to undead_ spell.  Fortunately it seems that contact initiated by the undead doesn’t disrupt the magic.   Three other mummies advance, walking around the hydras.  The remaining four watch the first three curiously.  Ernie uses his shield to _fly_ and moves to hover above Flicker.  

“I’ll save you,” he mouths.

Just then the remaining members of the Company come through the portal, to discover that for some reason the first group hasn’t cleared out from the landing zone!  There’s chaos as a lot of people crash into a lot of other people.  Aravis and Kibi go sprawling onto the ground.  Snokas nearly falls into Kay, and in his attempt to avoid her trips and falls himself.  Morningstar, Grey Wolf and One Certain Step manage to lurch around and avoid the others.

Grey Wolf thinks to himself:  “Why is the first group still crowded around the entrance?”

Then:  “Uh, oh, they look like they’re paralyzed.”

Then:  “Holy crap!  That’s not a hydra.  That’s four hydras and a bunch of mummies!  $#@!”

The mummies' aura of terror washes over the newcomers, but bolstered by the heroic presence of One Certain Step, none of them are paralyzed.  (Morningstar is actually terrified, but her _ring of freedom of movement_ nullifies the paralysis.)  Kay is still paralyzed, but this doesn’t prevent her from activating her air-spirit-assisted flight ability.  She flies upward and out of harm’s way.

Kibi struggles to his feet, props up Aravis and gets him balanced.  Dranko manages to shake off the crippling fear, and his muscles relax.  

“Do we go back?” he whispers harshly.  The closest hydra turns a couple of its heads in his direction but still makes no move.

“Ah, screw it,” he thinks.   One hydra they were prepared for, but this is going to need more planning.  Dranko grabs Aravis and leaps back through the portal.  A moment later they emerge into the bedroom again.

Morningstar twigs to the plan and does the same, grabbing the nearest paralyzed person (Flicker, in her case) and jumping back to the bedroom.  Away from the mummies, Aravis feels the paralysis fade.  He swears aloud and casts _shield_ on himself.

Alas, the retreat-and-regroup plan is extremely short-lived.  A ways back and off to the side of the pass, obscured by both some intervening hydras and a large boulder, something casts a spell.   A _wall of stone_ appears behind the remaining members of the Company – _entirely sealing off the portal!_  From her high vantage point, Kay catches a glimpse of something like a skeletal snake with arms slithering behind the large boulder.

The hydras continue to shuffle, mindlessly aware that something’s going on but not seeing anything to kill.  One Certain Step itches to attack the mummies, but knows that doing so will allow the Hydras to see them.  Instead, realizing that there’s a spellcaster about, he moves off to the side to get out of “fireball formation.”   Grey Wolf uses his _wand of flying_ on himself and flies straight up.

The four mummies who see targets amble forward.  Two of them approach Kibi and punch him solidly.  The dwarf can smell a rotting stench coming from the beneath their dirty wrappings as they pummel him.  

The fourth mummy trips on a chunk of rock and stumbles into Snokas.  Both of them fall to the ground with the mummy on top.  Oof!  Snokas groans in discomfort and terror.  He has no idea if the act of shoving the mummy off of him will end the invisibility spell or not.  

*>> So at this point my players are giving me a pretty hard time.  First there was the multiplying-the-expected-monsters-by-15 trick.  Then there was the split-the-party-with-a-wall-of-stone trick.  Now I’ve got Snokas lying on the ground with a filthy, oozing mummy sprawled on top of him, and unable to do anything about it for fear that it will alert the four hydras to their presence.  Dranko’s player (Piratecat) leaned across the table and said:  “I demand my money back.”  Grey Wolf’s player was more direct.  “Let’s beat him,” he suggested, glaring at me.*

Dranko, Flicker, Aravis and Morningstar are starting to wonder why the others haven’t followed them through the portal.  None of the possible explanations are good.

“I’m going to check and see what’s going on out there,” says Flicker.  He jumps through the portal.  Two seconds later he comes lurching back out into the bedroom, hands pressed to his face.  “Ooooowwwwaaaauuuugh!” he exclaims.  He peeks through his fingers.  “Hey, I’m still here!  I slammed into something.  It was like someone threw me into a wall.”  

He lowers his hands, which are red and sticky.  His nose is broken and gushing blood.

“Oh, crap!” says Dranko, his face going pale.  “What kind of wall?”

“A solid wall!” says Flicker.

“Force?”

“No, no…  I mean a real wall, a physical wall.  It wasn’t glassy like a force wall.  It was probably stone.”

“So no splinters,” says Dranko.  “What did it taste like?”

“What did it TASTE LIKE?!” cries Flicker, his voice shrill.  “Why would I have tasted it?”

Aravis thinks out loud.  “I could try using my staff, just as I went through the portal.  With luck it would target the wall of stone with a _passwall_.”   But no one thinks that would work, including him.  The four of them just stare helplessly at the portal, wondering what fate is befalling their friends outside.

Kay flies back to help Step, hovering above him, intending to air-lift him out if necessary.  She flies close to one of the hydras, and sensing something stirring the air, it idly snaps in Kay’s direction with three of its heads.   Kibi winces at the bruises left by the mummies’ fists, but realizes immediately what needs to be done.  Avoiding more attacks from his foes, he casts _stone shape_ and parts the stone wall blocking the portal.  Having cleared the way, he steps through it.  Seconds later he emerges into the bedroom.

Dranko looks at the dwarf in surprise.

“Flicker!  You weren’t just messing with us, were you?”

“Yeah,” says Flicker reproachfully, “and my smashed, bloody nose is just an act.”

“Ok,” announces Kibi proudly.  “The _wall of stone_ is down.”

“Wall of stone!  Oh, for crying out loud!” says Flicker.

“Who cast a _wall of stone_?” asks Morningstar.

“I don’t know,” Kibi admits.  “I didn’t see anything.”

Morningstar heals Flicker’s nose and then steps through the portal, not wanting to be stuck in the bedroom again if another wall gets cast.  Still inside, Aravis activates his _boots of haste_ and Dranko casts _protection from evil_ on himself.

Morningstar emerges into the rocky pass.  A moment later the lurking bone snake-creature casts another spell – a _greater dispelling_ that blankets the area around the Company.  Ernie loses his _fly_ and drops four feet to the ground.  Snokas loses his _endurance_ spell and feels a bit weaker.

Step is divested of his _invisibility to undead_.  

Forty-eight hydra heads swivel and rattle and stare directly at him.

…to be continued…


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I think your players had a right to be a little annoyed at this point...


----------



## shilsen

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *>> So at this point my players are giving me a pretty hard time.  First there was the multiplying-the-expected-monsters-by-15 trick.  Then there was the split-the-party-with-a-wall-of-stone trick.  Now I’ve got Snokas lying on the ground with a filthy, oozing mummy sprawled on top of him, and unable to do anything about it for fear that it will alert the four hydras to their presence.  Dranko’s player (Piratecat) leaned across the table and said:  “I demand my money back.”  Grey Wolf’s player was more direct.  “Let’s beat him,” he suggested, glaring at me.*




Aah, good times!


----------



## Liolel

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “So no splinters,” says Dranko.  “What did it taste like?”
> 
> “What did it TASTE LIKE?!” cries Flicker, his voice shrill.  “Why would I have tasted it?”



 Those two lines are just pure gold. Made me laugh out loud.


----------



## Piratecat

Liolel said:
			
		

> Those two lines are just pure gold. Made me laugh out loud.




If he had to ask, it just wasn't worth explaining. 

I can't even begin to say how freaked out we were when Velendo started putting out first one giant tile for the one hydra... then another, then another, then ANOTHER. Then a ton more for the mummies. And we were worried about fighting one hydra.  Even worse, he said "Everyone make spot checks. Okay, what'd you get? Ernie, you got a 14, so you see three figures back amongst the rocks.. make three saving throws. Aravis, you got a 16, so you have to make four will saves. And Dranko, what was your spot?"

(wincing) "33."

(slight grin) "You see all of them.  Make eight saves."

I hate it when he does that. This is what got Dranko petrified when we fought basilisks, too.


----------



## Len

Sagiro said:
			
		

> *Dranko’s player (Piratecat) leaned across the table and said:  “I demand my money back.” *



Sounds to me like Piratecat was already getting just about what he was owed.


----------



## Mort

Piratecat said:
			
		

> If he had to ask, it just wasn't worth explaining.
> 
> I can't even begin to say how freaked out we were when Velendo started putting out first one giant tile for the one hydra... then another, then another, then ANOTHER. Then a ton more for the mummies. And we were worried about fighting one hydra.  Even worse, he said "Everyone make spot checks. Okay, what'd you get? Ernie, you got a 14, so you see three figures back amongst the rocks.. make three saving throws. Aravis, you got a 16, so you have to make four will saves. And Dranko, what was your spot?"
> 
> (wincing) "33."
> 
> (slight grin) "You see all of them.  Make eight saves."
> 
> I hate it when he does that. This is what got Dranko petrified when we fought basilisks, too.




That's one one of the meanest things I've ever seen. I'm definately stealing it for my next session.


----------



## Delemental

Piratecat said:
			
		

> I can't even begin to say how freaked out we were when Velendo started putting out first one giant tile for the one hydra...




Velendo, eh?  So you session was being guest-DMed by the famous cleric of Calphas himself?


The mind is always the first thing to go...


----------



## Vargo

Delemental said:
			
		

> Velendo, eh?  So you session was being guest-DMed by the famous cleric of Calphas himself?
> 
> 
> The mind is always the first thing to go...




Yep, looks like yours sure is.  Mine is still perfectly intact, and I remember that Velendo is played BY Sagiro in Piratecat's campaign.


----------



## Piratecat

Velendo. Sagiro. Whatever -- a rose by any other name would still be a rat bastard.


----------



## Sagiro

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Velendo. Sagiro. Whatever -- a rose by any other name would still be a rat bastard.




If that's not the pot calling the kettle a rat bastard, I don't know what is.  

-Sagiro


----------



## coyote6

That's a lot of hydra heads. Poor Step -- just back from the dead, and look where he's at. 

Too bad you can't turn the hydras' heads individually.


----------



## shilsen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Velendo. Sagiro. Whatever -- a rose by any other name would still be a rat bastard.






			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> If that's not the pot calling the kettle a rat bastard, I don't know what is.
> 
> -Sagiro




The praise of the praiseworthy is above all reward   (geek points for identifying the reference).

And - more, please!


----------



## Delemental

Vargo said:
			
		

> Yep, looks like yours sure is.  Mine is still perfectly intact, and I remember that Velendo is played BY Sagiro in Piratecat's campaign.




Yeah, I knew that too.  The name-slippage was just amusing, that's all.  Sort of helps remind me that despite the excellence of both Story Hours, they're still human, or at least putting up the best visage of humanity that two rat-bastards can muster.  

Just curious, does the name slip happen very frequently during actual game sessions?  Probably less of a problem for Sagiro and Piratecat, being DMs, but how often does KidCthulhu get called 'Nolin' in this game, or vice versa?

Worse yet, any instances of character name slips in non-game arenas?

KidCthulhu:  Hey, Dranko, can you take out the garbage?
Piratecat: <blink> <blink> Umm... dear?


----------



## Sagiro

shilsen said:
			
		

> The praise of the praiseworthy is above all reward   (geek points for identifying the reference).




Isn't that what Faramir says to Samwise, after Samwise has praised Faramir for not taking the Ring from Frodo?

-Sagiro


----------



## Plane Sailing

Piratecat said:
			
		

> (wincing) "33."
> 
> (slight grin) "You see all of them.  Make eight saves."




The PC's in my campaign recently entered a room with five mummies, and I have to admit that as a DM I shied away from forcing everyone to make five saves, because I knew that those with high saves would make all of them and those with low saves didn't stand a chance of making every roll.

I decided to make the additional mummies make the whole thing more fearsome, so there was just one paralysis/fear save, but the DC was raised by 1 for each extra mummy.

(and if you think I was failing in my duty as a rat bastard, in my defence I'd like to at least mention that my mummies mummy-rot had both an onset time and a repeat time of 1 minute... and the party all out of Remove Curse too )



Cheers!


----------



## KidCthulhu

Delemental said:
			
		

> Just curious, does the name slip happen very frequently during actual game sessions?  Probably less of a problem for Sagiro and Piratecat, being DMs, but how often does KidCthulhu get called 'Nolin' in this game, or vice versa?



Never.  Nolin and Ernie are so completely different that we've never had a slip up.  Plus, it's only in the last few years that we have had any overlapping players between the two games.



> Worse yet, any instances of character name slips in non-game arenas?
> KidCthulhu:  Hey, Dranko, can you take out the garbage?
> Piratecat: <blink> <blink> Umm... dearz



Again, never.  Although "Hey Rat Bastard" does sometimes get thrown around.  And not always to refer to Pkitty  .


----------



## shilsen

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Isn't that what Faramir says to Samwise, after Samwise has praised Faramir for not taking the Ring from Frodo?
> 
> -Sagiro




Bingo! As a reward, you may post the next segment of your story hour within the next three days and receive tons of applause from us faithful readers. There - don't you feel lucky now?


----------



## Piratecat

Delemental said:
			
		

> Just curious, does the name slip happen very frequently during actual game sessions?




We mix up Calphas and Delioch every once in a while, and I actually called Ben Durbin "Wulf" in my game the other week, but we're usually pretty good.


----------



## el-remmen

Sagiro is my DM hero!


----------



## Sagiro

This isn't an update _per se_.  As I promised a while back, I'm now posting a campaign prologue on which I've been working on and off (mostly off) for a few months now.  

Full disclosure: while I did run each character through a 30-minute pregame session, that was in November of 1995, and my long-term memory is awful.  What's written here is loosely based on those sessions, incorporating what I remember, but with plenty of extra detail that makes it read better.  And the stuff at the start is background fiction that never saw the gaming table at all.

Lastly, while I wrote this partly out of dissatisfaction with the current early parts of the Story Hour, I also wrote it as thanks for all of you readers out there who've been following the adventures of Abernathy's Company.  You've given me support and ideas, kept me honest at times, and made me think about what makes a good campaign -- not to mention that you've given me an excuse to keep my writing skills honed.  

Enjoy!

-Sagiro


**



Do you hear that sound?  That is the inexorable whirring of fate’s gears spinning on axles greased by the Gods.  

The multiverse is very much a vast machine, consuming time in its furnaces and spewing death from its vents.  A trillion souls are its working parts.  But the deities in their heavens did not set the gears to motion, for they are part of the machine themselves, loath though they would be to admit such.  Even with power and knowledge un-guessed by mortals, they have no more control over destiny’s engine than does anyone else.

Ok, it was a loaded question.  You probably _don’t_ hear the sound of reality’s relentless progress.  Neither do most living things.  But there are exceptions, born here and there every few generations, and the choices and actions of those beings can send the courses of worlds careening off in new (and invariably more interesting) directions.

The Archmage Abernathy is one of these people.  He sits in the comfortable study on the top floor of his tower, leaning over a piece of parchment, quill in hand dripping ink.  In a metaphorical sense he is listening to the whispers of the Machine, though in practice he is writing down the names of people he has never met, has never heard of.  There are already four names on the page, but he knows…  Senses?  Believes?… that there are three more still to be written.

_Ernest Roundhill_

Hm.  Sounds like a halfling name.  Could be someone right here in the city of Tal Hae.  And there’s already a halfling on the list; “Flicker Proudfoot” is certainly also of that diminutive race.  Two out of seven?  Abernathy’s intellect is troubled but his gut is sure.  Those two belong with the others.

For another few minutes he stares at the parchment, quill hovering.  Most of his mind is occupied elsewhere – he has important duties to perform, and as vital as this interlude may be, he cannot neglect his primary task for much longer.  His able apprentice Thewana can hold things down for a few more hours yet, but Abernathy is thinking ahead.  Abernathy is always thinking ahead.  So much depends on him.

He looks down to discover he is writing another name.

_Isabel Horn_

He gets a peculiar chill as his pen inks this sixth name on the list, but it passes as soon as he is done.    

Only one more to go.  Abernathy knows there will be seven names on the paper.  He doesn’t know _how_ he knows.   His astounding prescience will never be confused with omniscience.  It might be a God who guides his pen.  It might be something greater.  Perhaps he is simply mad.  

_No, I’m not mad,_ he thinks.  _That would have implications too dire to contemplate._

For an hour more he stares at the page, waiting for the final name to come.  Only when his mind starts to drift back to his centuries-old obligations does his pen stir and write the last name.

_Dranko Blackhope_

Dranko?  That sounds like an orcish word.  Abernathy’s brow furrows as he reviews the seven names.  A small pang of guilt stirs in his heart.  All of these people are about to give up their old lives and start new ones, and the latter are likely to be much more dangerous than the former.   But the time has come when he – and by extension the rest of the Archmagi, and by further extension the whole Kingdom of Charagan – are going to need help.  And these seven – they are the help.  

(Don’t misunderstand – Charagan already has some elite fighting units, including at least one experienced and formidable adventuring group.  But these names on Abernathy’s parchment are different.  He doesn’t know how, but they are laced in tightly to the fate of the Kingdom in ways that are as certain as they are unknowable.)

Has his pen chosen ordinary folk who will find their slow way to greatness?  Are they already true heroes of the realm?   Abernathy has no idea.  He’s been out of touch for a while.

He stands up and his old bones creak.  _No point in waiting,_ he thinks.  _I already have tasks to set for them.  Simple ones to start with.  It will get more complicated later on._  On a nearby table are a long scroll and a vial of clear fluid. Inked onto the scroll is an impossibly complex spell that combines powerful divinations and illusions and conjurations and something to do with _teleporting._

Abernathy doesn’t know who wrote the scroll, or what’s in the vial.  Not even Alander knew.  But his old mentor had told him that when the time was right – and Abernathy would know when that was – he should read the scroll while pouring the liquid over a list of names.

“What names?” the young Abernathy had asked.

“I don’t know,” said Alander, smiling. “But you will.”

So now, as the chill winds of late March blow outside through the streets of Tal Hae, Abernathy places his list of seven names down beside Alander’s old scroll and starts to read.  As he utters the syllables of power, he trickles the fluid over the names.  The casting takes about five minutes, and when he is done both pieces of paper, scroll and parchment, are blank white.  

“That’s it then,” mutters the Archmage.   “Best get back to work.”

He turns toward the door.  It will be several days before he returns to this room, at which time he will find to his great consternation that there are three new names on his piece of parchment, written in what looks like his own hand.   It’s a mystery that will make more sense in time.

But in the present, Abernathy leaves the study and descends to a strange room in the heart of his tower, where he settles into an old wooden chair and resumes his task of saving the world from destruction.



* *



_*In the forest of Harkran, near the town of Cyric*_

Kay Olafsen puts down her bow and drops to one knee.  For a moment she just stares, taking in the bloody details of a savaged deer carcass.  Then she reaches out to pull back a flap of torn skin, bends down even lower, and peers intently at the bite marks.  She makes a careful study of the dead body and the tracks around it.

_Wolves.  A small pack.  Four, I think.  The deer was old, and they didn’t have to chase it far.  The largest set of tooth-marks is scarcer.  The Alpha male ate first, leaving the others to gnaw at the bones.  Nothing surprising here; the wolves are still hungry enough to range this far in, after a long cold winter._

Disappointed that the wolves got there first, Kay picks her way back through the forest to her family home, a well-built cabin surrounded by small cleared fields.  Her little brother Melly, nine years old, comes tearing from behind the house as she approaches.

“Kay, Kay!  Look!  Look what you got!”

There’s a folded piece of paper in his hands, which he waves frantically as he approaches.

“See?” says Melly. “Those words on the paper say ‘Kay Olafsen.’  I asked Mr. Miller and he said it’s your name written down!  It’s a letter for you!”

_That doesn’t make sense,_ Kay thinks to herself.  _I can’t read.  Neither can most people in Cyric.  Who would be stupid enough to send me a letter instead of just coming to talk with me?_

“Mr. Miller said he’d read what’s inside for you, if you wanted.”

“I guess he’ll have to,” says Kay.  There are few other literate souls in Cyric – Mayor Torbel for one, Apothecary Sam for another.  And old Mya who runs the general store, Kay’s pretty sure she can read.  But the Miller house is closer, and Mr. Miller is a good friend of her father.

“Did you see who brought the letter?” Kay asks her little brother.  “Did they say who it was from?”

“It was a kid, about my age,” says Melly.  “I hadn’t seen him before.  Maybe a new family moved into town?  He handed me the letter and ran off.  I told mom, and she told me to take it to the Millers to see who it was for.”

Kay pokes her head into the house.

“Mom?  Do you need me for the next hour?  I need to go into town.”

“Go ahead dear,” calls her mother from the kitchen.  “The boys are giving me all the help I need right now.”

“You just go scamper around in the woods some more,” calls her eldest brother, Lars.  Kay can hear the friendly mockery in his voice.  “This time try to come back with more than skinned knees.”

Kay’s mom pokes her head through the kitchen doorway and smiles at Kay. 

“I hear Apothecary Sam is paying good coppers for woodwort, if you can find any.  And pick up some potatoes at the market while you’re out.  Oh, and tell Mrs. Baker that we’ll have extra cabbages for her if she wants to buy them.  And come back as soon as you can; Lars and Karn are helping old man North rebuild his barn this afternoon and I’ll need some help with chores later on.”

“Got it, mom.  See you later!”

Kay dashes out the door.  Twenty minutes later she is standing in the Miller’s living room.  Old Mr. Miller, a kindly codger with most of his teeth and a wrinkly smile, is breaking the strange wax seal on the letter. 

“Don’t know who it’s from, hey?” says the old man.  “Maybe you got a secret admirer among the young lads in town, hey?”

Kay rolls her eyes.

Mr. Miller opens the letter and reads.   His face goes pale as his eyes scan the parchment.  He reads it a second time just to be sure.

“What does it say?” asks Kay impatiently.

“You set yourself down then, missy.  Where’d you say this letter came from?”

“Melly said some new kid brought it by our house while I was hunting,” says Kay.  “Why?  Is it something important?”

“Yes.  I’d say that it is.  You may not believe it, but here’s what it says.

*“’You will appear at the tower of the Archmagus Abernathy in the city of Tal Hae, at sundown on the first day of April, the year 1828.’”*

“That’s it?” asks Kay.

“It?  _It?_  Missy, do you know what this means?  You’ve been summoned by an Archmage!  That’s quite an “it!”

Kay, like most everyone else in the kingdom, has heard rumors about the Archmagi.  They’re powerful, mysterious and notoriously reclusive wizards.  Sometimes they emerge from their towers to demand tasks of citizens, and by an ancient law there is no gainsaying their requests.

“That’s not what it means,” sighs Kay.  “It means someone is playing a joke on me, that’s all.  No Archmage is going to be interested in me, I promise.”

The two look at each other for a long moment.  A stiff breeze blows through Mr. Miller’s living room, stirring Kay’s long brown hair. 

“Or maybe this Abernathy guy meant to send this to someone else,” she continues. “There must be a lot of girls named Kay in a city as big as Tal Hae.  Well, thanks for the help Mr. Miller.  I’ve gotta go.  Lots of errands to run for mom.”

After she has gone, Archibald Miller frowns and squints over at the window looking out onto the street.  It’s a chilly March afternoon and all of his windows are sealed tight, as was the door just moments ago.  He knows the story about Kay’s birth, the way some crazy wind had kicked up and bowled over the midwife.  It’s why some folks still call her “Windstorm.”  If it were up to him he’d say that letter was no joke, that Miri’s headstrong daughter ought to go to Tal Hae and not risk agitating some great wizard.  But it’s none of his business, and with a cough and a shrug he goes back to work. 



* *



_*A small beachfront home on the outskirts of Kynder Hold.*_

Isabel Horn rocks in her porch chair, looking out over the bay.  Perhaps she is admiring the way the setting sun’s glint makes the tide seem to slide over itself.  Perhaps she enjoys the early evening breeze coming in off the water, tousling her hair and stirring the crystal wind chime hanging from the lintel.   More likely, though, she is simply waiting for her husband to come home.

For three years she has been waiting, trapped in the terrible limbo between widowhood and desperate hope.  Willem was a competent sailor, a trader with his own ship and crew, who had roamed the coasts of Charagan for years.   Isabel had married him with the begrudged blessing of her noble family and moved with him into the small house on the coast. 

Tonight she reflects on the choices of her life, where they’ve led her, where they’re _going_ to lead her.   Isabel Horn, nee Boxwood, is no longer a young woman.  She’s in her mid-thirties and unlikely to remarry.  Her family would take her back, but the thought of living out stifling decades into spinsterhood on the Boxwood Estate steals her breath at the mere thought.   

There is an unsolvable paradox in Isabel’s heart.  She cannot imagine that Willem is alive somewhere and not returning to her.   Nor can she imagine that her husband is truly dead.  On many evenings she has dwelt upon this paradox, finding no answers.  

The wind dies down.  Idly Isabel reaches out a hand and effects a small cantrip that makes the wind chime dance.  She has learned a little magic since her husband last sailed away.  A young wizard named Thomas had come up the hill her to house a year past, on a quest for a familiar.   In return for allowing him to call one of the ravens that liked to frequent her yard, Isabel had requested that he teach her a spell.

Thomas had replied that magic was not something just anyone could learn.  It took a particular kind of mind, and an attitude that tuned one’s inner being to the mystic forces of the world.  Isabel insisted, so Thomas showed her how to cast _unseen servant._  To his surprise she picked it up with only a few days’ instruction.  Then he went into her back yard and summoned a familiar, whereupon the ravens flew off, and Isabel’s old goat Nana walked up to him, introduced herself, and began to chew on his hat.

Thomas paid Mrs. Horn for the goat and left with thanks.  And Isabel Horn had started on her strange career as wizard, prisoner, and savior.  

On this cool night in late March, thinking about her husband, her magics, her future, Isabel finds that she has unexpectedly made a decision.  Tonight she will pack her bags.  Tomorrow she will take the first ship to Tal Hae.  No longer will she wait for word of Willem to reach her.  She will go out into the world and find out for herself what has happened.

Had only she turned around and looked back toward home, as the ship set out the following morning to cross the Middle Sea between Kynder Hold and Tal Hae, Isabel Horn might have seen the speck of a small child standing on her pier, waving a piece of paper in his hand.



* *



*On the streets of Tal Hae*

Dranko Blackhope lurks in the mouth of an alleyway, watching citizens of Tal Hae hurry along the streets through the rain.  It’s the perfect day for this – people pay less attention to their surroundings in a rainstorm.  Their eyes will be on the ground, looking for puddles, and their minds will be on their destinations, thinking of a warm fire and a roof above their heads. 

He’s been waiting for half an hour when a likely mark walks past his alley.   A fancy umbrella is keeping the rain off the man’s fine clothes, and his only bodyguard is walking in front of him.  A pouch dangles from the man’s belt.  Dranko smiles. _They never learn._

He slips out of the alley and starts the tail.  Ignoring the rain Dranko scans ahead the next two blocks.  He takes stock of everyone coming toward him, noting how fast they walk, how observant they are.  He notes where city guards are posted, and where the side streets are.  A few seconds later he makes his move, drawing a small dagger but keeping it concealed within the folds of his clothes.  Quickly he catches up with his prey.  The dagger flashes.  He cuts the strings on the man’s pouch, catches it with his free hand, and slips into a second alleyway.  

The merchant keeps walking, oblivious.  

There’s always a chance that such thefts will have been witnessed by a meddling third party, so Dranko runs to the back of the alley and scales the wall, then hops from rooftop to rooftop for a couple of blocks before sitting down against a chimney.   He pulls open the liberated pouch and takes inventory.  It’s not as much as he expected given the man’s fancy outfit and bodyguard, but the handful of silvers and coppers will pay another week’s rent and keep him fed for a few days.  And speaking of the rent, he’d best get home.

Dranko is four blocks from his apartment when he hears an anguished groan from below.  He peers down from the roof and sees an old beggar crawling into a narrow empty side street.  The man slumps against wall and clutches his ankle.  The rain soaks him.

For a moment Dranko is frozen with indecision.  He too is drenched from the cold rain and wants nothing more to get someplace warmer and dryer. As he watches, the beggar tries to stand but collapses in a puddle, crying out in pain.

“Crap,” mutters Dranko.  He un-slings his pack and pulls from it a rumpled cream-colored robe with fading gold trim.  It’s a bit of a struggle to get the wet fabric sorted out, but he gets the robe pulled on over his street clothes.  He fishes a necklace from a side pouch of the pack and hastily fastens it around his neck.  Both the robe and necklace feature the stylized design that indicates Delioch, God of the Healing Hand.

Properly attired, Dranko climbs carefully down the wall and approaches the beggar.  He sees that the old man’s ankle is broken, a compound fracture with bone poking out through the skin.  Blood is mixing with the rain puddling beneath his body.

“What happened,” asks Dranko gruffly.

The beggar looks up, but the first thing he registers is not the robe or the necklace – it’s the tusks.  Dranko Blackhope is a half-orc, not so ugly as many of that hybrid race, but ugly enough.  Two thick teeth like small boar’s tusks protrude from his lower jaw.  His other features are thick, flattened, almost cruel.  Frightened and injured, the beggar shrinks away from Dranko.

“I’m not gonna stand here in the rain all day,” says Dranko.  “You want me to heal that ankle, or would you rather slowly bleed to death?”

Rain runs down the vagrant’s straggly hair and into his eyes.   

“I was begging for coins,” he croaks.  “All I wanted was a copper or two for a meal, but he pushed me aside.  I slipped in the rain and fell against the curb.  My ankle…”

Dranko leans down and examines the break.   He’ll need to set it, but it should heal properly.

“Put this in your mouth,” says Dranko, handing the beggar a leather strip.  “This’ll hurt a bit.  If you have to bite down, bite this, not your tongue.”

Dranko pulls on the man’s ankle and realigns the bone.  The patient cries out again, the leather strip falling from his mouth.  Quickly the half-orc puts one hand on his holy symbol and the other on the beggar’s leg.

“Lord, I pray for healing, that this man be made sound and whole.”

A soft golden glow surrounds the broken ankle; bone reknits, tendons reattach, and the puncture closes.  In a few seconds only a small scar remains.  The beggar looks up in wonder.

Dranko fishes out five coppers from his just-acquired swag and drops them on the man’s lap.  

“Buy yourself some food, and say a prayer to Delioch,” he instructs.  The beggar nods dumbly as Dranko walks away.  Only after he has rounded a corner does Dranko scramble back up to the rooftops; it wouldn’t do for a cleric of Delioch to be seen scaling the walls.

Dranko enters his 2nd-story living space – two squalid little rooms – via a ceiling trap door he made for himself.   Ironically that trap door is one of the few parts of his roof that _doesn’t_ leak when it rains.  Dranko has a collection of pots and buckets catching the drips that spill through on days like this.  He peels off his soaked clerical robes and sits down in a rickety chair, hoping to enjoy a few minutes of relaxa…

Bam, bam, bam!  “Drank-oooooooo!”  

His landlady, a large, loud and lazy woman named Berthel, pounds on his door.  The two of them share a satisfyingly caustic relationship.  Dranko lets her in.

“You’re soaked!  What have you been up to? Out scaring urchins with that winning smile?”

“Nice to see you too, Berthel.  Maybe I was finding a better place to live than this drafty strainer.”

“You wish,” laughs Berthel.  “Speaking of which, where’s the rent?”

“Maybe I should hold on to it until you fix the leaks in my roof.”

“You got somewhere better to go?”

Dranko pauses.  He imagines the sanctuary of the Church of Delioch, the Healing Hand, where those who need succor are given harbor and comfort.

“No,” he says.  “I guess I don’t.  Here’s enough for two weeks.  Now get out of here; your perfume is drowning out the preferable aroma of my chamber pot.”

Berthel counts her money, chuckles, and turns to leave.  Then she turns back.

“Oh, almost forgot.  Some kid was here this morning.  Told me to give you this.”

She takes a folded piece of paper from a pocket and tosses it to her tenant.

“Didn’t know you could read,” she laughs as she leaves.

Dranko cracks the seal on the letter and reads it as he returns to his chair.  Hours later he is still there, brooding, wondering what it means.



* *



_*The Smoke House, Tal Hae*_

The Smoke House is a bright, cheerful establishment in the heart of Tal Hae’s “halfing quarter,” catering primarily to the little folk but offering a warm welcome to anyone interested in good food, good drink and good company.  It is owned and operated by a well-respected and well-liked halfling couple, Crick and Mora Proudfoot, assisted by their son Flicker.  

Flicker Proudfoot is a remarkable person.  Physically he is strong and wiry, and through diligent practice has become mildly dangerous with a short sword.  (He still maintains a childhood dream of someday joining the Tal Hae city guard.)   Flicker is also quick and agile, with as deft and skillful fingers as any rogue employed by the Tal Hae Undermen.  He is mischievous in a friendly sort of way, and wouldn’t hurt anyone unless they were asking for it.

He’s not much in the common sense department, but he scrapes by.

Flicker’s primary duty in the Smoke House is what Crick jokingly calls “patron quality maintenance.”  When a customer becomes rude or obnoxious, Flicker will make sure they don’t leave the establishment before being discreetly divested of some small possession.   The theory – and it’s worked well in practice – is that patrons who later on discover they’ve been robbed are less likely to come back to a “den of little halfling thieves.”  As a result, the Smoke House has a fine reputation among good-natured folk, and receives poor word-of-mouth only among the unsavory and boorish.

Not that pocket-picking is Flicker’s only responsibility.  He also (along with other employees) greets visitors at the door, waits tables, pours drinks, cleans mugs, and contributes to the atmosphere of relaxed enjoyment.   He is engaged in just this sort of duty on the night of March the 30th, welcoming guests as they come in the door, pointing them to where open tables wait, advising them that the onion stew is particularly good tonight, and sizing them up as possible troublemakers.  A knot of regulars from the early lamp-lighting shift comes in out of a drizzle; they nod to Flicker and hasten to start on the night’s ale.  The door swings almost shut, but a small foot wedges itself in the jamb, and a thin waif struggles to push the door open again.  Flicker pulls the handle and lets in the child, who looks up at him.  He clutches a folded piece of paper.

“This is for Flicker Proudfoot,” says the child.

“That’s me!” says Flicker, taking the paper.  “Who’s it from?”

“Flicker!” his father shouts from the back of the Inn, his strong voice carrying over the din. “Where’d you put the mugs that came in this morning?  Mora wants to have ‘em washed and ready by tomorrow morning!”

“Oop… hold on kid,” says Flicker.  He turns and shouts to his dad, “I stashed ‘em down with the wine bottles!  It was the only place I could find room!”

Flicker turns back to find the door swinging shut, the child gone.  He almost opens the paper to read it, but more customers come in just then, so he stuffs it in a pocket.  Five minutes later he has forgotten all about it.  Thus it is that Flicker is extremely surprised at what happens to him the following evening.



* *



_*The Island Barony of Forquelle, on the palace grounds*_

“Father, have you seen Darian?  Master Cawvus says he’s late for his arithmetic lesson.  I cannot find him anywhere.”

Young Alomayne Firemount, twelve years old, grins impishly as he asks the question.  His older brother Darian is going to be in some hot water for missing an appointment with his tutor.  Not that he doesn’t love his brother, mind.  And if you were to tell the young lad that he wouldn’t see Darian again for years, if ever, he’d think you’d gone mad.

Three miles away, the sixteen-year-old Darien Firemount, heir to the throne of Forquelle, is pulling his small boat onto the sandy shore of a small island.  There are dozens of little islands dotting the island barony of Forquelle; this one has the advantage of being boring and uninhabited and indistinguishable from several others.   Unless father convinces his wizard to use divination magic, it could take more than a day for anyone to find him.

By then, if what he’s read is true, it will be too late.

He has already decided on a name to use in his exile:  “Tor Bladebearer.”  It’s generic, tough sounding, and nothing like his real name.  He has the longsword to back it up, and plenty of strength with which to use it.   For a boy in his middle-teens, ‘Tor’ is something of a freak of nature.   He stands taller than six feet, with broad shoulders and thick muscles that would make many a seasoned warrior green with envy.   His head, with its boyish face and sandy hair, looks stolen from a younger body and attached whimsically to his bulky frame. 

And what is his destiny?  Officially he is to be trained to succeed his father as Baron of Forquelle.  As Baron he will rule the Islands, wasting his days with a daily torture of diplomacy, economics, ledgers, taxes, and various affairs of state.  His sword will grow rusty, his back will bend over a desk covered in contracts and agreements, and his true destiny will go unfulfilled.  The court sword-master has all but admitted that Darien could become the greatest swordsman the barony has ever seen.  And what did his father say?

“A sword is a plaything.  The true weapons of a ruler are wisdom, guile and knowledge.  A sharp bookkeeper will be of more value to you than a sharp blade.”

Bah!  Darien knows in his deepest heart that he was made for adventure.  He should be out exploring the world, fighting evil, discovering hidden treasures – anything but sitting on the throne to which unkind fate would shackle him.   Months have passed since Darien first started to plan his escape.  He would run away, hide aboard a ship bound for one of the three duchies, Lanei maybe.   He would tint his hair, or try growing a beard, or dye his skin a new color.  In some hidden place he would start to forge a new life, a new identity.  Darien Firemount would be left behind forever, and Tor Bladebearer would lead a life of limitless possibility and unbounded glory!

And anyway, Alomayne is _much_ better suited to rule the barony.  Bright kid.

Alas, for these many months past Darien’s plot to escape never got beyond the most rudimentary planning stages.  His father kept him busy with duties, and that damned tutor hardly left his side!  He had begun to suspect that his father knows his mind.

Two days ago, everything changed.  Darien was stealing precious minutes in the sparring yard, hacking a straw dummy with his sword.   A tousle-haired youth maybe eight or nine years old had wandered into the yard clutching a piece of paper.  At first Darien figured that some visiting merchant’s son had been set loose on the castle grounds.   As the boy walked over to him Tor had feared that babysitting duty was going to interrupt his sword practice.   But instead the boy had approached him and handed him the paper.  

“This is for you,” said the boy.  

It had a wax seal imprinted with a design like a slender tower.  The textured parchment was high quality, an expensive luxury for a child to be carrying around.   He turned it over in his hands looking for a sign of whom it was from.  

“Who told you to give me this?” he asked, still looking down at it.  There was no answer.  The child was gone.  Darien broke the seal and read the short message.

*“You will appear at the tower of the Archmagus Abernathy in the city of Tal Hae, at sundown on the first day of April, the year 1828.”*

It never occurred to Darien that this was a summons or an invitation.  Alone of all the recipients, he took the words literally.  He had two days to pack and prepare.

Now, as the afternoon sun drops from its height on the last day of March, Tor Bladebearer hides his boat and wanders inland to a secluded spot.   Idly he munches on a cheese pilfered from the castle larder.   Any minute now he will be transported to the life of his dreams.  He doesn’t know how he knows.  He just _knows.  _



* *



_*The Temple of Ell in Kynder Hold*_

“Morningstar” is not the name of an Ellish priestess.

In the halls of the Goddess of Night, many of Her servants have been granted names that reflect the nature of Her portfolio.  Moondraft, Obsidia, Umbra… that sort of thing.  Others have more ordinary names, like Previa, June, or Amber.  But there has never been recorded a priestess named Sunbeam, or Radiance, or Dawn.  All true names are born in the mind of the Ell, and there has never been doubt about Her focus and purpose.  The Goddess might have pointed out to skeptics that it is the morning star that heralds the dawn while the night still lasts, but She is content for her daughters to find their own paths and make their own judgements.  Alas for Morningstar that her peers have not judged her kindly.

Morningstar sends Clariel staggering back with a vicious blow.  Clariel, senior among the Shields of Ell in the temple at Kynder Hold, regains her balance, walks forward and sets her shield.

“Again,” she says.

It wasn’t enough that the Goddess had given her such a name.  The name, everyone says, is absolutely appropriate to her appearance.  Morningstar is tall, gangly, rail-thin, with skin so pallid her parents feared through her childhood that she was albino.  Her long straight hair is a snowy white.  

That’s not what an Ellish priestess looks like. 

Morningstar pants with exertion, sweat matting her pale hair to her face.  In the cool night air her breath puffs out in clouds.  She swings her weapon again and again, her trainer Clariel exhorting her not to falter.  It’s only through a determination bordering on stubbornness that she has not.  No one, not even her mother who is also a Priestess, expected Morningstar to receive the call to serve the Goddess.  Even now she is regarded by some as a freak, not exactly an outcast but not much embraced among her own sisterhood, a misjudged girl in a misunderstood religion.  She can count her friends on half the fingers of one hand.  The rest judge her more harshly while at the same time treading more lightly around her, as if they fear what her purpose will be, placed in their midst by Ell.  There is something subtly portentous about Morningstar that makes her sisters distinctly uncomfortable, and this they reflect back at her in defense.

“Enough!” cries Clariel.   Morningstar is not strong, but she is quick and accurate and can spar for hours without tiring.  This is not the first time she has outlasted her mentor.  Morningstar lowers her weapon, a spiked ball attached to a wooden handle by a short length of chain.  There is an old book of weaponry in the Chroniclers’ library that shows a picture of this weapon.  In modern times it would be called a flail by most, but in that dusty tome it was labeled:  ‘Morning-star.’   When Morningstar had seen that picture she knew that one day she would swing such a weapon in the service of Ell as a Shield, the martial order of the church. 

Clariel’s shield is scarred with the marks of Morningstar’s weapon.   

“You have fought enough for one night,” she says.  “In two hours the sun will rise; you should bathe and attend prayers before bed.”

Clariel treats her better than most of her sisters.  At least she sees her potential, and judges her on her fighting prowess rather than her awkward appearance.  She’s not a friend, exactly, but Morningstar has learned to value any relationship that is entirely free of scorn.

“Thank you, sister,” she says to Clariel.   The trainer nods, removes her shield, and walks from the sparring yard into the temple building.  Morningstar tarries, looking up at the stars and squinting uncomfortably at the bright full moon.  

“Excuse me, are you Morningstar?”

She turns, startled, to find a small child standing nearby.  He grasps a folded letter with a wax seal.

“This is for you,” says the child, before Morningstar even has a chance to answer.  The urchin presses the paper into her hands and runs off, leaving the Ellish neophyte confused and speechless.   She opens the letter as she walks back to her frugal bedroom in the temple, reading easily in the nearly complete darkness.   

She is quite calm about it, though she doesn’t doubt its veracity.   If there’s one thing that Ellish priestesses learn early on, it’s equanimity.

The problem will be timing, Morningstar thinks as she wonders where to find a duffel bag.  Even in the best case she will be late for this strange appointment by at least a day.  Today is the last day of March, and it’s 300 miles by ship across the Middle Sea from Kynder Hold to Tal Hae.  She can only do her best.  If the wizard Abernathy thought this summons was time critical, he should have sent his messenger more than a day in advance.

After a quick rinse in the Church’s baths, Morningstar dons her black-on-black robes and joins Clariel and others for services and prayer in the south chapel.  At their conclusion she catches Clariel’s attention and motions her teacher over to a private alcove.

“Yes, Morningstar?”

“I have received an unusual summons, of a… personal nature.  I will need to leave Kynder Hold on the first available ship and travel to Tal Hae.  I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but if it turns out to be anything more than a brief stay, I’ll send word.”

“Are you in trouble, sister?” asks Clariel.

“No.  I don’t think so.  Please, if you could, tell Quia to take me out of the standard rotations for the rest of the week.  I must secure berth on a ship at once.”

“The sun is almost risen,” Clariel points out.  “You know the rules of our church…”

“I will ask to travel below decks,” says Morningstar.  “With luck I can avoid the sun entirely.  But I mustn’t delay even an hour more.”

“Very well,” says Clariel.  “If you are in any trouble, you know you can always come to me for help.”

“I know it,” says Morningstar, grateful.  

“Then may the blessings of Ell be upon you in your travels.”

Despite the urgency of her itinerary, Morningstar takes the time to pen a note to her parents.   She copies the words of Abernathy’s letter verbatim, then adds a short postscript: _I’m going to Tal Hae in case this summons is true.  Love to you both. _

Ninety minutes later Morningstar is settling down to sleep on an old mattress, in the hold of the merchant ship “Wind’s Kiss.”  She had to give most of her small monthly allowance to the captain, even allowing that she was willing to travel below decks.  She is more nervous that she likes to admit, even to herself.  Thin bars of sunlight slip through the seams of the deck and speckle the hold.  

Sunlight!  The enormity of what she’s doing threatens to overwhelm her, so she turns her head toward the darker shadows around her and prays fervently for Ell to protect and guide her.  Soon an assuring calm settles over her.  By the time she drifts to sleep, with the ship riding the waves en route to Tal Hae, a small smile has settled on her face.



**



*Dingman’s Ferry*

“This is Pyknite,” says Old Bowlegs.  “I’ve carried this blade my whole life.  Like me, it doesn’t care for orcs or other foul things.  I want you to have it.”

Standing before the old halfling warrior, young Ernest Roundhill hardly knows what to say.  That Old Bowlegs should be giving him a pep talk is honor enough, but his sword?

“Er, thank you, sir,” stammers Ernie.  “I will do my best to use it bravely, in the service of Yondalla.”

“I know you will,” says Bowlegs.  “You’re the best student I’ve got.  I don’t mean your skill, though that’s good enough for a start.  But you won’t misuse any of your gifts, Pyknite included. I know it.”

Ernie turns red.  Old Bowlegs is the seasoned leader of the seven-halfling-strong militia of the tiny town.  He has killed over a dozen orcs in his life, they say.  And he’s usually stingy with his compliments; today he’s positively effusive. 

_It must be because I’m leaving home,_ Ernie thinks.

In truth, Bowlegs is sorry to see young Roundhill go.  He has always thought that Ernie would be the one to follow after him, to keep his town safe from harm.  But Ernest Roundhill has taken it into his head that his destiny lies elsewhere, that he can do more good in a large city than in the tiny village of Dingman’s Ferry.  Probably true, Bowlegs concedes to himself.  But Tal Hae will be like nothing Ernest has ever seen, and what the young would-be adventurer will need most when he gets there is confidence.

“Well, Ernest, you should go back and say your good-byes to Rowan and Hob.  I’m sure they’ll have more advice for you before you head off into the wide wild world.  Be sure to write back home once you’ve settled in.”

“Yes sir, I will!”

Ernie takes off at a run for his parents’ house.  

Rowan and Hob Roundhill are off the charts, if there were charts for wholesomeness and generosity.  Their son Ernie inherited every bit of that legacy, and then some.  He loves to cook, and he loves to practice his sword fighting with Old Bowlegs, and he loves doing nice things for nice people, and he loves his parents more than anything in the world.   The only thing Ernie particularly _doesn’t_ like is bullies, of which there are unfortunately several in Dingman’s Ferry.  Ernie’s not a naturally violent person by any means, but when he perceives an injustice in the world, particularly when the strong prey on the weak, his blood heats up in an awful hurry.   Having been brought up in a proper household, the phrase “kicking the ass of evildoers” has never specifically entered his lexicon, but that’s exactly what he was born to do.  Well, that and cook.  The kid’s a natural.

It’s a predictably tearful farewell scene at the Roundhill front step, as Ernie embraces his mother one last time before leaving.  She has asked him a half-dozen times if he’s packed extra warm clothing, and the blanket she knitted for him just this past week, and his extra water-skin in case his first one ruptures, and his letter of recommendation from Bowlegs.  Hob just stands behind the two of them, beaming with pride that his son is going to make a name for himself in Tal Hae.  A few hugs later and Ernie is heading down the road to meet his destiny.

What’s that, you ask?  What about the letter?  Oddly, he never gets one, despite being the fifth name on Abernathy’s scroll.  No child appears at his door.  He doesn’t even get teleported into the wizard’s tower on the evening of the first day of April.  Did the ancient magic fail?  It would seem not, because Ernest Wilburforce Roundhill still showed up in Tal Hae on the evening of that fateful day.  Abernathy was able to locate him, bring him to his tower, tell him what needed telling, and send him off to join the others in their new headquarters.   It’s a mystery how such a thing was possible, but Ernie has an unusual background.  There’s something in his blood, and it’ll probably come in handy some day.



* *



Kay was eating dinner with her family, and specifically was passing her oldest brother the saltcellar, when she vanished from the kitchen table.  She had never even mentioned the stupid prank letter to her family, so they were all quite surprised.   It wasn’t until later the next day that word of her disappearance reached the ears of Mr. Miller.  His explanation hardly calmed anyone down.

Isabel Horn was just leaving the office of the harbormaster of Tal Hae, having failed to learn anything of import regarding her husband or his ship.  By chance the only person who saw her vanish was a small child, whose story of the magic invisible lady no one believed.

Dranko Blackhope, alone of all them, was waiting outside the tower when sunset came.  He had already scouted it from a respectful distance and observed its absence of doors or windows, but figured that an egress would present itself.  He had a brief chat with an older man named Levec Oldbarrow who was also observing the tower.  Levec had a lame excuse that Dranko didn’t buy, but before the half-orc could pump him for anything juicy, he blinked away right in front of Levec’s eyes.  

Darien Firemount, a.k.a. Tor Bladebearer, sat on a warm beach clutching his sword.  He watched the sun dip below the clear horizon, closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he was exactly where he expected to be, hundreds of miles to the west.  

Morningstar, Shield of Ell, was still in the hold of the ship.  She was waiting until sunset to come above-decks, but she was plucked away before she had the chance.  The sailors grumbled afterward that you never could trust those black witches of the Night Goddess.  Probably turned into a bat and flew off.

Flicker Proudfoot was down in the cellar testing the ale before the night’s busy hours.  “Testing the ale” was not actually a job his parents had set for him, mind.  It was one of many examples of the young halfling’s remarkable initiative.  His first thought upon finding himself in the high study of Abernathy’s tower was that his father had hired a wizard to trap the ale casks and had forgotten to mention it to him.  

And there they were, five young men and women, and Isabel Horn somewhat older, standing agog in a well-appointed if slightly untidy living room. 



* *



Hours later, after, after Abernathy had talked to them at length and then sent them on their way to the house he had prepared for them, and after some time spent wondering what had happened to the seventh person on his list, he felt a bit peckish.  He sent his cook – a halfling named Browla – out for some food, though because of the late hour the options were limited.  

Browla knew of a particularly good provisioner who tended to be open late, but that meant walking a few blocks through a less reputable part of town.   On his way home, arms laden with groceries, four human ruffians out enjoying an evening of hooliganism accosted him in a narrow lane.

Ernest Roundhill had been in Tal Hae a couple of days by then, exploring and absorbing the wonders of the Great Wooden City.  He was renting a room above a seamstress’s shop, and since he was having trouble sleeping, he decided to go out in search of a snack.  A place called Churley’s was supposed to be open late selling bread and mostly-fresh produce, so off he went.

You can see where this is going.  Was it Abernathy’s spell at work?  Ernie heard a commotion coming from an alley, peered around the corner, and saw four gangly human youths tormenting a middle-aged halfling whose arms were full of food.  Bullies!  Hardly even thinking about it Ernie drew Pyknite and walked into the alley entrance.

“You leave him alone!” he shouted, his voice shrill.  “Shame on you for picking on someone so much smaller than you!  But if that’s what you want, come deal with me!”

Maybe Ernie’s shadow was thrown large on the adjacent wall.  Maybe the ruffians saw Pyknite gleam in the light of the full moon.  Maybe they saw the righteous anger smoldering in Ernie’s eyes.  Whatever the case, they quickly decided that their fun was over, and they fled into the night.  Ernie sheathed his sword and ran over to Browla.

As thanks for his rescue, Browla invited Ernest back to Abernathy’s tower for a meal and a drink.   Though Ernie didn’t realize it, this was a very inappropriate thing for Browla to do.  Letting strangers into the tower was strictly forbidden for a number of very good reasons, the health and welfare of every single citizen of the kingdom chief among them. Afterward Browla admitted to Abernathy that he had no idea what he was thinking.  But an hour later Ernie and Browla were chatting away in the kitchen, preparing a meal together and talking shop about the culinary arts.  

Abernathy came down later on in the evening, wondering what was holding up his supper.  His eyes widened as he saw Ernie, first because here was an unauthorized visitor inside the tower walls, but soon after because recognition came to him in a flash.

“Ernest!” cried Abernathy.

Ernie stared back at him.

“Uh… yes, um, yes sir?”

Abernathy fixed the young halfling with an unnerving stare for almost a full minute, during which Ernie became increasingly discomfited and Browla looked quizzically between the two of them. But at last Abernathy broke the awkward silence by exclaiming:

“You’re a Wilburforce!  Extraordinary!”

Which was true.  Ernie’s full family name was Ernest Wilburforce Roundhill.

“Yes sir!  That’s my middle name,” answered Ernie, trying and failing to look like this sort of exchange was natural.

“Didn’t you get my letter?” asked Abernathy, raising his bushy eyebrows.

“Er, no sir, I didn’t.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Browla here said you were a wizard,” answered Ernie.

“Hmph.  A wizard.  Yes, I am, and I’ve been expecting you.  Browla, I’m afraid I need to steal your guest for a while.  Ernest, please follow me.”

And so it was the Ernie was given the same briefing as the others, and sent on to the Greenhouse to join the others.   Abernathy’s Company was officially in business.


----------



## LightPhoenix

Very cool.  Three names added... Grey Wolf, Step, and Aravis, right?

I have one question which this recent post brought back into memory and I don't seriously expect to be answered... the matter of Mrs. Horn's husband, Willam.  I remember when I first started reading the SH being intrigued as to where that plot was going, and was wondering if the Company ever found out what happened to him.  Did you actually have a plan as to his purpose, and if so would it be too preposterous to ask that you might at least provide some hints?


----------



## Plane Sailing

I'm amazed that so many of the original party are still alive and in the campaign. I wish I could manage that


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## StevenAC

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> I have one question which this recent post brought back into memory and I don't seriously expect to be answered... the matter of Mrs. Horn's husband, Willam.  I remember when I first started reading the SH being intrigued as to where that plot was going, and was wondering if the Company ever found out what happened to him.  Did you actually have a plan as to his purpose, and if so would it be too preposterous to ask that you might at least provide some hints?



I'm not Sagiro, obviously, but I recall that when the Story Hour was originally posted, Sialia (a.k.a. Mrs. H) said that this plot thread only came about because she realised she might be moving to California and so exiting the campaign early.

_*rummages around in old posts*_

Ah, here we are...


			
				Sialia said:
			
		

> ... she was built as a PC with an easy out because I knew I might have to leave and I wanted to give Sagiro an easy way to get rid of her (hence the missing husband), but I didn't know that in Sagiro's world there weren't going to be any easy ways out.



Of course, Sagiro ended up finding a way to keep Mrs. H in the story after her player left, so I don't think we were ever destined to see poor Willam... Certainly, the few leads the party investigated quickly led nowhere.

Sagiro, the Prologue is a lovely piece of writing.  I like the slightly unsettling, distancing effect created by having the narrator directly address the reader a few times.  Very nice.  And if I didn't know better, I'd swear you had Ernie's little side adventure planned right from the start...


----------



## Sagiro

StevenAC said:
			
		

> Of course, Sagiro ended up finding a way to keep Mrs. H in the story after her player left, so I don't think we were ever destined to see poor Willam... Certainly, the few leads the party investigated quickly led nowhere.




Every so often (more from the earlier days) a small plot thread gets left out of the story, I'm afraid.  If memory serves, some time after Sialia departed for the far coast, Thomas (the one with the goat familiar) visited the party to find Mrs. Horn.  He had some small clue about Willam (I forget what, exactly), and promised to look into it himself.

No, originally Willam was part of the story, and I had an idea of what happened to him, and intended that to be an adventure some day if possible.  But I thought the "Abenathy's apprentice" route would be more interesting, and I confess that a small part of me wanted to leave that door open in case Sialia ever came back east.  I guess as it is now, what with the Archmages drained and their task essentially done, Mrs. Horn is free to go looking for him again on her own.  Of course, like most people on Abernia from the original time-line, she doesn't exist right now.

-Sagiro


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## RangerWickett

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> Very cool.  Three names added... Grey Wolf, Step, and Aravis, right?




I'm thinking:  Turlis the Evil Baker (tm), Sagiro Emberleaf, and Snokas.

Sagiro, I'm actually a bit saddened that this is posted now, when everyone in all those backstories pretty much doesn't exist.  However, a nice slow opening of this sort sets the stage well for the epic adventure to follow.  As a small bit of critique, I think it might be a bit too long to act as a proper prologue.  It's nice for hindsight, but if you want to actually put this up as the first part of the storyhour on your site, I'd suggest trimming a bit.  The first Abernathy section is great, but a few of the sections, like Dranko's and Ernest's, are stories of their own, so they break the narrative tension of the mystery of why Abernathy's doing what he's doing.

So, I love having a chance to read it, but I'm not sure if you should use it as a prologue as is.


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## Blackjack

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> I think it might be a bit too long to act as a proper prologue.  It's nice for hindsight, but if you want to actually put this up as the first part of the storyhour on your site, I'd suggest trimming a bit.




Ah, see, I totally disagree.


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## Piratecat

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> Very cool.  Three names added... Grey Wolf, Step, and Aravis, right?




Close. Kibilhathur Bimson (Kibi) is the third; One Certain Step is an NPC along for the ride due to a prophecy that concerned him.

I wouldn't cut down on the length, either. It tells us what we need to know. 
Poor Levec; his severed head _isn't_ one of the souvenirs that Dranko keeps.


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## Zaruthustran

Sagiro said:
			
		

> No, originally Willam was part of the story, and I had an idea of what happened to him, and intended that to be an adventure some day if possible.
> -Sagiro




Didn't the party find Willem's wedding ring? I recall something like that, around the time the company went back to Ernie's town for that bit with the statue and bracelet.

-z


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## LightPhoenix

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Close. Kibilhathur Bimson (Kibi) is the third; One Certain Step is an NPC along for the ride due to a prophecy that concerned him.



Doh!  Sorry Kibi's player!!!  How could I forget about Kibi?!?!

I blame it on Sagiro being able to write NPCs like players.   

Oh, and I liked the length of it, it actually made me go and read the first couple of runs again, just to get the old school feel.


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## StevenAC

*Collected Story Hour Updated*

For anyone who's interested, I've just updated the Sagiro's Collected Story Hour site (see link below).  It now contains the Prologue, and also the latest chapter of the Company's exploits inside Het Branoi (complete with three musical interludes, for your reading pleasure... ).  It's almost caught right up with this thread, now -- only the very last update Sagiro posted is not yet included.

Enjoy!


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## Quartermoon

...mmmm.  Sagiro.


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## Graywolf-ELM

Sagiro said:
			
		

> _*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 141d *_
> 
> _*begin April Fools False Content*
> Suddenly there is a tremendous tearing sound.  The World Spheres have lurched forward, and as the party looks on in horror, they meet directly above the large black circle on the ground, the cores overlapping in their center.  Grey Wolf is still alive, and not in the proper place!  He feels the churning in his guts become a terrible burning, and as the party watches helplessly, his body and soul are burned away as the Black Circle ritual reaches its terrible finale.  There is a deep shadow around him, followed by a sickening greenish glow, and then he is gone, with only a black vapor marking his passing.
> 
> And all around them in the room, enemy soldiers begin to appear.   One after another, dressed in spiked black armor, they step forward across the planar boundary from Volpos to Abernia.  In only a few seconds the room is full of them, all wielding cruel,  curved swords.   And then one last soldier appears, towering above them, red plate armor covering his body, a blood-red helm covering his face.
> 
> "We are here!," he exults.  "We have returned to Abernia, and this time we shall not be driven out."
> 
> The Company realizes they are doomed, but some of them must get out to warn the Spire.  Kay, Kibi and Ernie, who are still flying, flee through the hole opened to the sky above the large pit.   Behind them they hear the sounds of battle, as the black-armored soldiers move in and overpower those remaining in the room.  For Dranko, Morningstar, Step and Flicker, the adventure has come to an untimely end.  And the others, fleeing through the air, see below in Kallor that every street is filled with black-armored soldiers, and even the countryside beyond is swarming with the enemy.   Some of the buildings in the southern parts of the city are already burning.
> 
> Naradawk Skewn has come to Charagan at last.
> *end April Fools False Content*_




I thought it appropriate that while reading through the entire story hour I reached this point today.  I will be saddened to catch up completely, as I've found with many story hours, I am wanting to read more than people have to write.  This is an enjoyable read.  

FYI Your original website needs some links updated, as they all point to an old Internet connection you had.  I was able to hand edit the URL's though and made it through all updates you have archived there.  

There is a definate evolution in the updates, which has made reading hard to stop.  Keep up the enjoyable writing.

GW


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## Sagiro

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> FYI Your original website needs some links updated, as they all point to an old Internet connection you had.  I was able to hand edit the URL's though and made it through all updates you have archived there.
> 
> GW




I've just recently started to fix those dead links -- I curse the day I built my website without knowing the power of relative links!  Now, though, I'm torn, since if I have a free minute to work on game-related activity, I can a) work on the actual ongoing campaign, b) catch up on the woefully-behind story hour, or c) fix the website.  (At least I may _have_ some free time now, since we've fairly well settled into the new house. Woo!)

Speaking of b):  Here's a short update that finishes off the battle started in my last post.

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 206*_

One Certain Step can feel the hairs rising on his neck, as he becomes the subject of ninety-six hollow eye sockets’ baleful regard.  Briefly he is distracted from the skeletal hydras by the groaning of several mummies, who are now pointing at him with wrapped hands. 

“They see me,” he deadpans.  “I’m pretty sure of it.”

The closest hydra shifts its weight around and leans toward the paladin, preparing to move.

“I doubt I can run past them without being attacked,” Step continues.  Then, with more resolve in his voice:  “I know I was brought back to die for a specific cause, but this is *not it!*”

He moves fluidly to the side, putting the large gray portal to his back to minimize the number of enemies that could attack him at once.  This brings near enough to the closest mummy to slash at it with his bastard sword; he cuts deeply into its moldering flesh and oozing bandages.  The hydras move in on him, bones a-clatter.

Grey Wolf realizes that there’s just as great a danger from the spellcasting skeletal snake.  He flies over near to the boulder where he thinks the creature is hiding and plunges that entire area into an _obscuring mist_.   At the same time Ernie flies to Snokas and _dimension doors_ them both behind a different boulder, shielded from any other spells the creature might cast.  Snokas is still shaking from the horrifying experience of having a mummy atop him without being able to fight back.

“Snokas, that was really gross,” Ernie commiserates.  “And you were really brave!”

Snokas manages a weak smile of gratitude.

Several mummies lumber toward Step, entirely ignoring Morningstar as they move past.  Three of them flail at him with their pustulant fists.  For the most part he fends them off with his shield, but it’s of little import when the closest hydra moves in.   Twelve long bony necks extend out over the mummies, and twelve toothy skulls snap and rend at the paladin from above.   He tries in vain to deflect them all, but many find their way past the shield and through his armor.  His friends, watching aghast, have flashbacks to Step’s death-by-rending in the Beast Cave.  Blood spatters the rocky ground..  This time, though, One Certain Step survives.    A second hydra tries to join in the savaging, but with Step’s back to the dead portal there’s no room for it.  Realizing that the paladin won’t survive another attack like that, Kay (still hovering above) grabs him and airlifts him away, up the side of the hill’s near slope and out of harm’s reach.  The hydras follow his flight, and one of the remaining two knocks a mummy to the ground as it moves in Step’s direction.

Back in the bedroom, Flicker scrambles onto Dranko’s back as the half-orc prepares to go back through the portal.  Kibi casts _xorn movement_, and steps through the blue gateway.  Out of the corner of her eye, Morningstar sees the dwarf emerge and then immediately sink into the ground.   She doesn’t let it distract her.  Channeling her faith through the Ellish holy symbol given her by Abernathy, Morningstar uses her granted ability of _Greater Turning._  Holy energy bursts forth with a hot white radiance, and the air ripples as ambient positive and negative energy mix and surge against each other.  The mummies flinch and shield their faces with their arms against the flash of holy power, but for a moment it seems that the closest creature, one of the hydras, is unaffected.  But its heads stop moving, and as the Ellish light subsides, the massive skeletal monster collapses into a heap of fine powdery dust.

The next-closest hydra turns its heads to regard Morningstar.  She smiles grimly at it.

Aravis steps through the portal from the bedroom, surveys the battlefield, and with his expert eye decides just where he wants his sonic _fireballs_ to detonate.   The battlefield is soon engulfed in a riot of roaring sonic energy, and three mummies are blasted apart while another two are badly shredded.   One of the remaining hydras is nearly destroyed, its body cracking and starting to cave in on itself.  

Dranko pops out of the portal, Flicker on his back.   The half-orc sees that one of the hydras looks about ready to collapse, so he calls upon his Delioch-granted power to cast healing spells at range.  But this time he channels his positive energy at the hydra, and the power of his prayer tears at the dark magics holding it together.  With a terrible rending sound, the skeletal monstrosity collapses inward, legs snapping and necks disintegrating.  In seconds it is nothing more than a great pile of unconnected bones.

The skeletal snake glides out of the _obscuring mist_ and spots the small congregation of living beings near the portal.   It casts _cone of cold_.  Twice.  Aravis, Morningstar, Dranko and Flicker are caught in the pair of icy blasts.  The rogues dance and dodge and evade the damage entirely, but Morningstar and Aravis aren’t so lucky.   While neither is killed outright (Morningstar feels the buzzing shock of massive damage from the second one but doesn’t succumb), both are badly, badly wounded. 

Step, held aloft by Kay, channels his faith and Turns.  The two closest mummies turn and flee, cowed by the might of the Sun Goddess.   Grey Wolf eyes the snake-mage.

“Charge them!” urges the sword Bostock, speaking telepathically to Grey Wolf.  “Wield me, and slaughter those evil creatures!”

Grey Wolf starts casting _acid orb._

“Resorting to magic again?” Bostock snorts in disgust.

A blob of acid flies true and strikes the snake, hissing and bubbling as it burns away layers of bone.  

Snokas and Ernie peer through the cloud of bone grit at the snake creature.

“Want to help me get that mage?” Ernie asks Snokas.

“Er… okay,” replies Snokas, not entirely convinced that’s a good idea.

“I’ll fly us over there.  When I drop you off, get ready to attack it if it tries casting anything.”

Before Snokas can answer, Ernie does precisely that.   “Get ‘em, Snokas!” shouts Ernie encouragingly, as he drops off Morningstar’s cohort in front of the snake.  Snokas swallows and readies his picks, waiting from the creature to try casting again.  (He knows that if it tries to back away from him before casting, it will re-enter the mist and lose lines of sight on any targets.)  Flicker scrambles over to the snake as well, with the same idea.

One of the two remaining hydras, perhaps attracted by the movement, selects Snokas as its target.  It shifts its massive body around, lumbers a few feet over, and unleashes a veritable storm of snapping jaws.   One head actually lifts him off the ground for a moment, while the other heads take turns rending and biting, fighting over the morsel.  When they eventually drop him back down to the ground, he’s horribly shredded.

“Holy toast with marmalade!” shouts Ernie.  “Snokas, speak to me!”

“Oooooohhhh,” answers Snokas weakly.

Kay lands, lets go of Step, and heals him with a wand.  But she pays for her altruism, as the fourth hydra savages her with its full complement of heads.  Bits of her go flying everywhere.  She takes an obscene amount of damage, one that would have killed several of her party-mates.  Somehow she stays on her feet, but at this point several members of the Company are uncomfortably close to death.

Beneath the earth, Kibi _senses_.   He is still learning to read the vibrations from the surface, trying to form a picture in his mind of what is transpiring on the battlefield above.   Scree, an expert in such matters, helps him to understand.   The dwarf takes his best guess as to where the hydras are, based on the heavy thumping of their massive legs and feet on the ground above. 

He pops up to the surface to discover he has guessed exactly right.   Both remaining hydras are in perfect formation for his empowered _lightning bolt_.   Wild magic surges through his fingertips as the bolt flies, crackling and hissing and shattering _both_ of the remaining hydras into flying bone fragments.   One of the nearby mummies is obliterated, and the larger armored mummy also takes damage from the stroke.   Aravis, not to be completely outdone, follows this attack up with another _sonic fireball_.  Then, since a few enemies still seem to be standing, he casts a sonic _chain lightning_ targeting the bone snake.   As the thunderous booms of his spells fade, bits of bone and bandages fall from the sky like snowfall.

Still the snake survives!  It stares menacingly at Aravis.  Morningstar casts _heal_ on her wizard companion, and with the renewed confidence that comes of not being inches from death, Aravis stares back at the snake with his starry eyes.

The snake glides back into the fog.  They can hear the sound of a spell being cast.  Kibi recognizes some of the arcane syllables – it’s fleeing via _dimension door_.

After Kibi flies off and finishes the two Turned mummies with _magic missiles_, and after several rounds go by with no sign of the snake-mage, and after the clerics apply more healing to the wounded, and after Dranko does a bit of flying reconnaissance of the area – only then does the Company decide that the battle has been well and truly won.

…to be continued…


----------



## KidCthulhu

And you can just guess how guilty Ernie feels for dropping Snokas off in Downtown Peril without bus fare home.  D'oh.


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## drnuncheon

OK...don't know if I'm missing something or not, but...is the Company just kind of randomly charging through a string of portals int he hopes that they'll find something interesting, or are they actually following some clue or thread of some sort? Are they assuming that anywhere there are monsters is someplace the Bad Guys (tm) don't want them to go?  

It seemed to me that they just kind of picked one of the portals in the 'central ring' and went, and now they're still going, going, going...

J


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## Sagiro

drnuncheon said:
			
		

> OK...don't know if I'm missing something or not, but...is the Company just kind of randomly charging through a string of portals int he hopes that they'll find something interesting, or are they actually following some clue or thread of some sort? Are they assuming that anywhere there are monsters is someplace the Bad Guys (tm) don't want them to go?
> 
> It seemed to me that they just kind of picked one of the portals in the 'central ring' and went, and now they're still going, going, going...
> 
> J



At this point, the Company is in "explore the unknown while looking for clues" stage.  There were some clues in the bedroom, though these were more "what's going on?" type clues, and not of the "where do we go next?" variety.

In some sense, they've been systematically eliminating bad choices in this maze of world-bits.  The "central ring," as you call it, had 8 portals.  Two are dead gray ones that don't go anywhere, so those are out.  One goes to an essentially unsurvivable plane of fire, so that one's out.  (Wouldn't I be a stinker if that were the path to eventual success? )  One goes back to Green Valley via the Beast Cave, which they're pretty sure is another dead-end.  One goes to a place the Company assumes is just a "farming world" for the orcs.  The place they are now seems to lead only to the Bedroom, or the Negative Material Plane.  So that leaves two choices:  1. Go to Glaring Peak where thousands of orcs await; maybe someone there knows something of the Black Circle designs, or of the Eye of Moirel?  2. Try the last remaining portal out of the central ring, the one that opens into a trackless desert.  The next chapter of the Story Hour will start with their choice between these two.  

Don't worry too much.  It won't be long before I start giving the Company some actual leads to follow.  (From your point of view, that is.  The skeletal hydra battle took place in mid-October of 2003!)  But in the meantime I'm just enjoying setting the stage, and giving the party some fun (I hope) exploration and combats.

-Sagiro


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## Piratecat

How do you think WE felt?

It isn't linear, in the sense that there's a multitude of different paths we can take. Nevertheless, we're striving to find the Black Circle's actual lair. We have hints (such as the bedroom) that there was a castle or structure that has been split apart by dimensional chaos. Nevertheless, we're still flying relatively blind at this point, heading into one portal after another as we try to find our goal.

That soon changes, because when you poke around enough you're _bound_ to eliminate dead ends and find something useful. This whole place has a horrible internal logic that we just haven't discovered yet. You'll see some explanation in upcoming updates.


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## KidCthulhu

Horrible internal logic could really be the epithet for Sagiro's entire campaign.


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## Plane Sailing

Sagiro said:
			
		

> I've just recently started to *fix those dead links * -- I curse the day I built my website without knowing the power of relative links! Now, though, I'm torn, since if I have a free minute to work on game-related activity, I can a) work on the actual ongoing campaign, b) catch up on the woefully-behind story hour, or *c) fix the website*.




Sagiro,

If you wish I could probably help you with any mechanical "fix the website links" stuff... if you want to put the whole mess into a zip file and send it to me I'll quickly get it all changed to suit your requirements (all relative links?) and send the lot back all zipped up. I do that kind of web stuff all day.

(Anything to help you concentrate on (a) and (b)!)

Cheers,


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## Graywolf-ELM

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> Sagiro,
> 
> If you wish I could probably help you with any mechanical "fix the website links" stuff... if you want to put the whole mess into a zip file and send it to me I'll quickly get it all changed to suit your requirements (all relative links?) and send the lot back all zipped up. I do that kind of web stuff all day.
> 
> (Anything to help you concentrate on (a) and (b)!)
> 
> Cheers,




If we get a vote, I second that motion (a) and (b). 
I would have offered to help out, but it would take me some time to complete<read novice at html> the editing.  I went the route of the web links, because I don't like the additional load a .pdf reader adds to my computer.


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## RangerWickett

This is going to be an ironic question, but I can't recall the name of the thing that makes people forget the names of things, and it's been bugging me all week.  It's like, the Fading or something.


----------



## Sagiro

Before I actually write the next installment, I thought I’d share a funny extra.   Now that I’m taping the sessions, I can get little scenes like this down verbatim.   Background: I’ve stolen a custom spell from Sepulchrave called “Paroxysm of Fire” (don’t tell my players what it does… they haven’t used it yet and don’t know!) and put it into a magical crown.  Somehow the topic of the crown came up.  There followed this amusing exchange.

Dranko:  “What was that spell called again?”

Aravis:  “_paroxysm of fire._”

Ernie:  “A paroxysm is a spasm, right?”

Dranko:  “Yeah… fire spasms!  I’ve suffered from fire spasms before.  You know when you have to go to the bathroom _really, really badly…_

Grey Wolf:  “Oh.  I though it was when I lit you on fire by accident.”

Ernie:  “Dranko?”

Dranko:  “Yeah?”

Ernie:  “For my birthday, I want one day where we do not discuss any of your bodily functions unless it is a medical emergency.”

Dranko:  “Ernie, why do you ask for things you know I can’t give you?”


Later on, there was also this, whose meaning I will leave as an exercise for the reader:

DM: “There will be no catapulting of pigs at the gaming table.”

Pause. 

DM:  “I can’t believe I had to say that.”

Grey Wolf’s player:  “And we have it on tape!”

Yes, yes we do.  Ah, the memories.

Ok, enough of that.   

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 207*_
*Interlude, with snowshoes*


As the Company catches its collective breath and debates the next move, Kibi feels a sudden and violent chill come over him.   Dranko glances over as the dwarf sits down heavily on the stones.   What are those things on his face, he wonders?

Kibi reaches up to an itchy spot on his cheek and a bit of skin comes away on his hand.

Mummy rot!  Fortunately the party clerics have open spell slots, and One Certain Step can _cure disease_.   In only a few minutes Kibi is back to full health.

“Let’s get out of here,” he advises.

As they walk back down the valley (and past the blue portal with the black spots) they discuss their next move.  The two best choices would seem to be Glaring Peak and the orcish horde, or the unexplored desert.  By the time Kay has lead them to the portal back to the grassy 8-portaled world, they have decided upon the desert – there will be time enough for the orcs if that avenue proves fruitless.   

(Some years earlier the Company had acquired (read:  Dranko stole) desert kits for their venture into the Mouth of Nahalm.  Since those kits have long been lost to the ogres in Kivia, the Company decides they will make a stop in Green Valley, to make or acquire sand-shoes for the upcoming desert trek.)

After an hour or two the party has left the hills behind, and an hour after that they see the glimmer of blue in the distance.  The sky is still a dully overcast gray, the constant thunder still rolls, and the faint chill still sets them all on edge.   But eager as they are to escape this place, the Company takes precautions.  They tie a rope around Dranko’s waist, and he steps through the portal into the grassy world of two suns.

It’s dusk there.  The larger sun has set, and the smaller one is down near the horizon.   In the seconds it takes for Dranko to get his bearings, he catches a glimpse of a humanoid figure diving through the portal that leads to Glaring Peak.  He jumps back through.

“They had a scout there waiting,” he tells the others.  “He dove through the portal to Glaring Peak just as I arrived.”

Wasting no time, the rest of the Company leaps through the portal.   There is no sign of orcs there now, so after a brief check of their map (to make sure they select the right portal-with-skull-sign), they dash the fifty yards through the grass and leap into the Beast Cave.  Cold, to warm, to cold.  Overcast, to clear dusk, to pitch black.  And all in just two minutes!

Holding a lantern in front of her, Kay leads the Company to the exit into Green Valley.   Observing scuff marks and muddy prints on the ground, she concludes that several humans have been walking around the caves since they were last there.   

“Not surprising,” she observes.  “The people of Green Valley were pretty keen to explore someplace new.”

Again Dranko takes point and goes through the portal out of the caves.   There are about a dozen townsfolk lounging around the vicinity, armed with spears.  Most of them are startled by Dranko’s emergence, but they collect themselves quickly and Dranko soon finds a dozen spears pointed his way.  Just as quickly the spears are lowered – Dranko’s face is well known to them.  Isn’t he the dim one?

One of the townsfolk starts speaking, but Dranko can’t understand them.  A few more start to babble.   Just as Dranko casts _comprehend languages_, the rest of the Company spills out of the portal and Aravis casts _tongues_.

“Have you finished exploring?” asks a young man.  His name is Davin, and he looks to be about 18, which means he is probably almost 30.  

“We have not finished our explorations,” says Aravis, “but beyond the cave we found a place with more of these gates.  Going through that place, back and forth between them, are creatures we call ‘orcs.’”

To demonstrate, Ernie makes a face like an orc.  

“Kind of like them,” says Aravis, pointing to Dranko and Snokas. “But they’re only part orc.  The orcs, if they meet you, will try to harm or enslave you.”

“It’s a good thing they’ve not come here before then!” exclaims Davin.

“There were monsters guarding it,” Aravis points out.  “The orcs believe the monsters are still there.”

“But there are no monsters now.  You killed them!” says Davin in alarm.

“Yes, but like I said, the orcs don’t know that.  And there are other places through those gates, where there still _are_ monsters.”

Aravis explains about their fight against the undead hydras and mummies and the naga.  The folk of Green Valley listen with excited attention to the tale, gasping at the thought of such danger and heroics.

“So you killed them, just like you killed the beasts…” says Davin at the conclusion of Aravis’s tale.

“We did not kill all of them,” says Aravis.

“You’re telling us that it’s not yet safe to explore beyond the cave, aren’t you,” says Davin dejectedly.

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” answers Aravis.

“How soon do you think it will be before it _is_ safe?”

Aravis shakes his head.  “I cannot say.  It may never be safe.”

“These orcs… can they be snuck past?  Are there safe places beyond them?”

Kibi by now has also cast _tongues_.    “If the orcs find out about you, it will be very bad for you,” says the dwarf.  “If they figure out there’s no beast in this cave, they’ll come and try to conquer you.  So it’s very important that you don’t make yourselves known to them”

It’s heartbreaking to see the looks of fading hope of the faces of the Green Valley folk.

“We will tell all of this to Elder Tog,” says Davin.  “He has set us here to make sure none of the younger and more foolhardy of the townsfolk do anything rash that would endanger us.  We did some exploring of the cave, and found the other blue doorway, but Tog forbade us to go through it.”

“Good decision,” says Dranko.

As the peasants watch in fascination, Morningstar casts two _glyphs of warding_ in front of the portal, set to trigger _searing darkness_ on any full-blooded orcs that venture through.  She knows that won’t slow down a determined invasion force, but might polish off a scout whose failure to return could prove daunting.

When the townsfolk learn of the Company’s plan to explore a desert world, and that they’ve come back to make sand-shoes, they remark that they _have_ snowshoes in town they can barter for.   It will only take about a week to walk to town and back.  

“I have a way to get us back to town much more quickly,” says Aravis.  He takes two volunteers from among the natives to accompany him.

“What do we do?” they ask, wondering what Aravis has in mind.

“Stand still.”

“But if we stand still, how will we get home?”

“Tell them to think really hard about their village,” suggests Dranko.  “That way they’ll think they’re helping.”

Aravis smirks at the suggestion, and does so.  The villagers scrunch up their faces and concentrate furiously.  (So does Aravis, for that matter, trying to envision the spot where he, Dranko and Grey Wolf had their _chain lightning/iron storm_ practices.)

A second later, there they are.  The townsfolk, unfamiliar with teleportation magic, are astounded.  

“There’s the village!” one of them shouts.

“We have to tell Elder Tog about this!” says the other.

A few minutes later they are standing at Tog’s door.  One of townsfolk knocks, and they rush in when invited.

“Elder Tog!  We were just up at the magical gate, only five minutes ago!”

“You were?” says Tog, raising an eyebrow.  “Then how did you… ah.  Hello, Aravis.  So, you are back!  Have you made everything safe for us?  May we start exploring?”

Aravis tells Tog all that they have found.  By the time he is done, Tog looks as deflated as the guard contingent up by the portal.

“These orcs.  You say they are extremely numerous.   We would have no chance against them?”

“No, I don’t think you would,” says Aravis.

“It will be difficult for me to keep control of things.   Word will be out soon that you’re back.  I’ll tell the people something.  I don’t know what.”

There is a long and uncomfortable silence.  

“Is there anything I can do for you while you’re here?” asks Tog.

“We need snowshoes,” says Aravis.

Tog glances outside at the warm sunny afternoon and then back at Aravis, who quickly explains about the desert.   Eventually they work out a deal, wherein the Company will give Green Valley their +2 halberd, and any seeds Ernie can conjure up with his magic.  In return Tog will arrange for ten pairs of snowshoes of the best matching sizes to be gathered up in the next couple of hours.  

Once that has happened, Aravis and his entourage _teleport_ back to the portal.  Upon hearing the agreement, Ernie prays for and then casts _create food & water_, and Yondalla blesses him with a variety of seed-bearing fruits and some wrapped up bundles of grain.  The townsfolk are amazed that food can spontaneously appear.

The Company rests for the remainer of the day.  The Green Valley folk keep pestering Aravis and Kibi until their _tongues_ spells run out.  (Actually, Kibi’s spell lasts twice as long is it normally would, powered by a surge of wild magic as he cast it.  But tiring of the constant questions, he pretends that it runs out at the same time as Aravis’s spell.)

The night passes.  In the morning the party prepares spells and casts long-term buffs.  Then they discuss the best way to get past the orcs and into the desert, without tipping the orcs off that they have come from the Beast Cave.   They decide they need more information, so after bidding a final adieu to the people of Green Valley, they enter the cave and march to the exit portal.  Kibi makes Dranko _invisible_, and in goes the half-orc.

There are two orcs there, neither of which notices him as he emerges.  One stands at the portal leading to Glaring Peak, and the other at the gate to the farming world.  Both look bored.  Dranko watches them for a minute and then returns to the others.   After a few more minutes they settle on a plan.  

Dranko returns to the grassy plane.  The same two orcs are there; one of them yawns expansively.   Dranko moves stealthily across the field to the portal leading back to the undead plane, and hops through.  Meanwhile, back in the beast cave, Ernie is counting out loud.

“One Abernathy, two Abernathy, three Abernathy…”

Dranko punches himself to end the _invisibility_, and then hops back to the grassy plane, whistling a jolly tune.

(“Twelve Abernathy, Thirteen Abernathy, Fourteen Abernathy…”)

The orc standing in front of Glaring Peak jumps through immediately.  The other lifts his weapon, but otherwise just stands there, staring at Dranko.

“I would like you to go through that gate,” shouts Dranko, motioning to the portal behind the orc.

“What?”

“I said, I would like you to go through that gate.”

Dranko hefts his whip suggestively.*

(“Twenty-five Abernathy, twenty-six Abernathy…”)

“I would like to stand here and watch you!” replies the orc.

Dranko sighs.  “I would like you to go through that gate, or I might have to kill you!” he amends.

“I don’t think you want to do that,” shouts the orc, gripping his own sword and pointing it at Dranko.

Dranko decides this exchange isn’t working out, so he simply starts running across the field directly at the other orc.  The orc, figuring there’s nothing specifically wrong with changing one’s mind, leaps through the portal.

(“Forty-four Abernathy, forty-five Abernathy…”)

Dranko runs over to the portal to Green Valley and hops through.

“Come on, quick!,” he urges.

“But I haven’t gotten to sixty!” Ernie protests.

“Ernie!”

The whole Company leaps through the portal and starts a mad dash across to the desert gate.  They are two-thirds of the way across when armed orcs start pouring out of the portal to the farming world.  They spot the Company immediately and give chase, but the party has too big of a head start.  They leap into the portal with the orcs still twenty yards away.

They fall four feet into sand, each of them rolling aside so the next party member doesn’t land on them.  They expect that it might start raining orcs any second, but none come through.  Morningstar has the presence of mind to cast another _glyph of warding_ below the portal, such that any orc falling out will trigger it.

Minutes pass.  No orcs.   

It’s hot – easily in the mid-nineties.  A slightly-oversized yellow sun blazes overhead, drawing out sweat almost immediately.  The Company struggles to put on their snowshoes and shake some of the sand out of their clothing.  Kay looks around and frowns.  There are no landmarks to indicate any possible route to anything.

Aravis squints into the distance.  

“If I were an Eye of Moirel, where in a huge trackless desert would *I* hide?”

The rasping sand offers no good answer.

**

“Gruz, you think we should go after ‘em?”

Twenty orcs stand in a rough mob by the gate leading to the desert.  The largest of the orcs glowers.

“Naw,” says Gruz.  “There’s a horrible monster in there, right?  Let the monster eat ‘em up.  No need for us to risk our necks, right?”

“Yeah, good thinking.”

“But…” pipes up a scrawny orc named Vurg.  “What about that other gate?  The one you saw the half-breed come _out_ of.  Why didn’t the monster eat _him_ up?”

“Good question,” says Gruz, smiling.  “Looks like you just volunteered to go find out.  Don’t come back unless you have something worthwhile to tell us.”

**

Somewhere in a large pocket of the Negative Material Plane, a skeletal lion moves through a strange patch of dark blue light.  It finds itself suddenly thrust from the soothing negative energy and into a world of gray light and steady thunder.  The skeleton rolls haplessly down a steep hillside, bones chipping, until it comes to rest on the valley floor.  Cold, healing energy pours from the bright blue patch high above, but the skeleton cannot reach it.   Craving darkness, it spies a dark cave on the other side of the valley, large enough for it to squeeze into.   But as it crosses the valley, it spies something approaching.

Vurg never does come back.

…to be continued…



* Oh, grow up!


----------



## Sagiro

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> This is going to be an ironic question, but I can't recall the name of the thing that makes people forget the names of things, and it's been bugging me all week.  It's like, the Fading or something.




You're thinking of the Masking.  

Of course, what with the Emperor having rewritten history, it was probably never cast! 

-Sagiro


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “But…” pipes up a scrawny orc named Vurg. “What about that other gate? The one you saw the half-breed come out of. Why didn’t the monster eat him up?”
> 
> “Good question,” says Gruz, smiling. “Looks like you just volunteered to go find out. Don’t come back unless you have something worthwhile to tell us.”




And once again, the Orcish gene pool misses a chance to select for intelligence and problem-solving...


----------



## target

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “Naw,” says Gruz.  “There’s a horrible monster in there, right?  Let the monster eat ‘em up.  No need for us to risk our necks, right?”




It seems like there are a lot of specifically placed horrible monsters behind the portals.  Has the party considered that the mosters might be placed there for a reason by someone?

If Sagiro likes the scary internal logic, then I would be worried about who could place them, and why they would.  Perhaps to keep the orcs in check?  Or maybe the orcs are yet another of those monsters....

A fun an entertaining update as always.

- target


----------



## LightPhoenix

target said:
			
		

> It seems like there are a lot of specifically placed horrible monsters behind the portals. Has the party considered that the mosters might be placed there for a reason by someone?
> 
> If Sagiro likes the scary internal logic, then I would be worried about who could place them, and why they would. Perhaps to keep the orcs in check? Or maybe the orcs are yet another of those monsters....



Or maybe the orcs were taken there against their will, but they managed to train and beat their monster, albeit with heavy casualties.  They could be as innocent as the humans.


----------



## Zaruthustran

+2 halberd for a bunch of wicker shoes? Now that's what I call inflation!

-z


----------



## KidCthulhu

Not inflation.  Expediency.  We had no need for a halberd, which none of us could wield, and a great need for not sinking up to our necks in sand.  Especially Ernie & Flicker, who have less space between feet and neck than some of the others.


----------



## Sagiro

Hey Plane Sailing, if I get motivated enough to sort out the proper files and zip them up, I may take you up on your kind offer.  But in the meantime, I'll just write some more.  


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 208*_
*Sun, Sand & Squid*

“Hey Eyes.”

Kibi stands before his earth elemental familiar Scree, whose component rocks are flecked with sand.

“I know you’re in there,” continues the dwarf in his most polite tones.  “If you have any ideas about which way we should go, that would be very helpful.”

_nothing_, thinks Scree.

“Oh well.”

The cleric spell _find the path_ turns out to be the navigational aid of choice.  After much talk of how such a divination might be used, Morningstar casts the spell while naming as the location:  “The closest exit from the plane that is not the one we’re standing next to.”  Sure enough, she feels in her soul a surety of direction, and no special instructions for getting there beyond a trudge through the sand.  

There’s the additional question of how they can best find their way back to this spot in a pinch.   Kay notes dourly that the shifting desert will offer no permanent landmarks, and that the sun will have to suffice.  The wizards study the spot as best as they can, but knowing that if they have to _teleport_ back to here, it probably won’t look much like it does now.

They start walking, with Morningstar in front, led by the magic of her spell.  The snowshoes help tremendously, keeping them from sinking to their ankles or knees with every step.  But, oh, the sand!  It’s not long before the tiny granules have gotten into packs, hair, noses, eyelashes – everything. When they press their teeth together, they can feel the grit crunching.  

Hours pass beneath the hot sun.  Morningstar’s spell runs out, and Kay does her best to hold the Company to the same course.  There are still no landmarks; just the endless up-and-down march along the ever-shifting dunes.  Kay announces that from the sun’s rate of travel across the sky, the day here must be well more than 24 hours long.   So it is that when the party is ready to stop for the day, the sun is only now starting to set.

“What’s that?”

One Certain Step points to the horizon opposite the setting sun.  There’s something there, some indistinct shape shimmering on the horizon line, fading in and out.  It doesn’t seem to be moving, but each member of the Company seems to have a different perspective, and they can’t agree on how close it might be.

Dranko takes Ernie’s _Winged Shield_ and flies straight up for a better look.  For a few minutes he stares at it, not understanding what it is, or how close it is.  Given its size, it must be practically on top of them, and yet it also looks like it’s still on the horizon.  And it continues to shimmer in the heat-haze coming off the desert.  

Then it hits him.  It’s a moon rising up over the desert, a moon taking up almost a full eighth of the horizon.  It’s hundreds of times bigger than the moon he’s used to.  He flies back down.

“So, are we going to be attacked?” asks Grey Wolf.

“It’s a moon,” says Dranko.

“What?” asks Ernie.

“I said, it’s a moon.”

“We’re going to be attacked by a moon?” says Grey Wolf.

Dranko rolls his eyes.

For another few minutes the party watches in awe as the monstrous moon heaves itself up into the sky.    Dranko, since he’s high up already, does a bit of aerial recon, hoping to spot any sort of distinguishing feature of the desert.  The only interesting thing he sees is a black bird flying high above him.

“There’s a bird overhead,” he calls down to the others.  “Should I go after it and kill it?”

“No!” answers Kay instinctively.

“It’s heading in the same direction are we are.  It’s probably a spy going to report on us.”

But by then it’s already gone. 

“That’s a big moon!” exclaims Ernie.  He can’t take his eyes off of it.  It’s a chalky orange color, with clear bands and dark striations.   Craters pock its surface.

“I wonder if anything lives on it?” muses Dranko.  Then, turning to Morningstar, he adds, “Just imagine.  We can have our wedding ceremony here under the giant moon, after we fix the world.”

“After we fix the world, we’re not coming back here,” Grey Wolf points out.

“Well then, we’ll use illusions to make it look like this.”

Morningstar stares at the moon, trying to glean something of its nature.  

“I wonder of the Black Circle created it, or if it’s natural, and if it’s holy,” she says.

Step frowns.  “If the Black Circle can create something like that…”

“Then we’re f***ed, “ Dranko finishes.

Morningstar stares for a few more minutes, and abruptly decides that it’s just a moon like her own, but either much bigger or much closer.  It doesn't feel evil.  She smiles, which has the effect of making everyone else feel a bit better.

“This isn’t as bad as the last desert,” Ernie declares.   Then he moves over to stand next to Dranko and sheepishly asks:  “Can I use your geyser thing?

“The decanter?  Sure.  Why?”

Red-faced, Ernie whispers:  “I’ve… got sand… in my cracks.”

“In your WHAT?” Dranko roars, grinning.  Ernie turns a brighter shade of pink.

“I mean in my toes!” he squeaks.  “You know… all those crevices!”

“Oh,” says Dranko, clearly disappointed.

“Just throw me the geyser.”

Ernie goes behind a sand dune and hoses off, only to find that when he’s damp, even more sand sticks to him.  By the time he rejoins the others he’s as sandy as he was when he left.  Dranko smiles at him and casts a _clean_ orison on himself; the sand goes flying off of him, leaving him grit free.  Then he casts another on Ernie.

“Thanks, Dranko!  Whew.  I hate chafing.”

“When did this become ‘Ernest shares too much information’ day?” says Dranko.

A breeze picks up as the enormous moon climbs higher.  Aravis suggests that they sleep in _rope tricks_.

“A good idea,” agrees Dranko.  “Someone spying on us would see it if we used a _secure shelter_.”

“The real advantage of _rope tricks_, says Aravis, “is that I thought to prepare them today.”

The wizard casts a couple of the spells a few feet off the ground, and the party scrambles up the ropes into them.  Only Dranko stays out in the sand for a few minutes more, enjoying a blacktallow cigar and watching the moon.  Another advantage of the _rope tricks_, he notes.  It’s not likely to get very dark tonight.

* *

The next morning Dranko wakes up in his extradimensional pocket.  Flicker, Kibi, Grey Wolf and Step share the space.  Morningstar, Snokas, Aravis, Kay and Ernie are in the other one.   Dranko rolls over and peers out the window in the floor, and (surprise!) sees sand.  He sticks his head out, and only at the last minute does he realize the trick of perspective that’s been played upon him.  The sand comes right up to the opening!  He gets a mouthful of grit as he plunges himself neck-deep into the sand, then yanks his head out and starts hacking violently to clear his throat. When he can breathe again, he wakes the other and tells them what’s happened: while they slept, the wind-blown dunes shifted, and now their opening is buried!  

At Kibi’s behest, Scree leaves the space to scout.  Abruptly they lose their telepathic link, which bothers Kibi immensely, even knowing it’s only for a few seconds.  Sure enough, his familiar comes back quickly with a report that the sand goes about six feet higher that the opening to their space.

In the other _rope trick_ the rest of the Company is also discovering that they’re buried, but without Kibi and Scree they have no way of knowing how far down they’re trapped.  Morningstar starts praying for her spells a few minutes after Kibi decides to prepare a _passwall_.  Scree thinks there’s an angle that will allow the tunnel to reach the surface without being too steep to traverse.  Kibi reaches out and casts the spell.  Sand goes flying, blown down the new tunnel and out into the desert air.  Almost immediately the tunnel starts collapsing in on itself.  

“Come on!  Hurry!” shouts the dwarf, and he dives into the tunnel and starts to scramble for the surface.  Behind him, Dranko, Flicker, Step and Grey Wolf do the same.   Sand pours in on them, and the whole tunnel collapses while they are still a few feet from freedom.  For a harrowing thirty seconds they hold their breaths and dig their way through the loose sand, finally breaking out onto the desert floor gulping lungfuls of air.

After they’ve caught their breaths and coughed out some sand, Kibi realizes that the dunes have shifted in such a way that he cannot reach the other _rope trick_ with his final _passwall_.   Time for Plan B!  He hands one end of a rope to Dranko, casts _xorn movement_, and dives down into the sand.  

Meanwhile, Morningstar has prayed long enough to cast a _summon monster_ spell.  She casts _tongues_ and then summons (of all things) a xorn, instructing it to leave the pocket dimension, learn how far it is to the surface, and then come back down to report.  Kibi is startled as the xorn passes him going the other way as he descends.

“Hello, xorn!” he says pleasantly.  The xorn grumbles a greeting as it burrows upward toward the surface.  When it emerges, it stares at those of the Company already there.

“I didn’t realize _xorn movement_ could actually turn you into one!” says Flicker, agog.  

Likewise, only seconds after the xorn has left on Morningstar’s errand, Kibi comes popping up to join her and the others.  And while Kibi is explaining what’s going on, the xorn comes back. (Yes, it’s like one of those French bedroom farces, with more sand.)  

Half an hour later, everyone in the second _rope trick_ has been dragged uncomfortably through the sand by those already on the surface.   Ernie’s starting to think maybe this _is_ as bad as the last desert.  Morningstar casts _find the path_ again, and then a couple of _wind walks_ to expedite travel.  So much for the snowshoes!

Fifty miles or so later, the flying Company spots something dark on the horizon.   There are more birds here, and they are circling above whatever it is.  A few minutes later they can see it’s an oasis, and Morningstar’s spell is leading them straight towards it.   The huge moon has almost set.  

They slow down a bit and approach the oasis cautiously.  It’s roughly circular, and about 100 yards in diameter.  From their high vantage point they spot a glimmer of blue light in a clearing near the oasis’s center.  There’s also something that looks like white ruins nearby, but as they get even closer and lower down, they resolve into the bleached skeleton of a huge dragon.

Closer yet.  There is not one blue portal, but two, side by side, of similar dimensions.  The clearing is about thirty yards on a side, with a pool along its edge.  Dozens of black birds flit and twitter about the oasis.  The dragon skeleton is mostly complete, but is in the process of disintegrating.

Closer still.  Dranko spies a small pile of something in front of one of the blue portals.  The birds are thick around that pile, and large scarab-like insects crawl over it.  Wanting to investigate with minimal risk, Morningstar casts _tongues_ and summons a celestial eagle.  Her instructions:  “Please fly down to that pile and investigate.”

“Why?” asks the eagle, once it’s satisfied that there are no enemies around to attack.

“We want to see what’s down there.”

“Go look then,” suggests the eagle.

But the eagle does as ordered, flying down to the pile and landing next to it.  The other birds scatter in alarm.  The eagle pecks at the pile and starts eating something from it.   After fifteen seconds of this it flies back to Morningstar.  

“Fish skeletons,” it says.  “Some with good meat still on them.”  Then it vanishes.

“Our stock among the celestial eagles has just gone up,” comments Grey Wolf.

“I can just imagine,” says Aravis.  “In heaven, most celestial eagles probably tell the same story:  “I got summoned, and then immediately attacked some horrible monster that opposed my summoner.”  But ours will brag about how _his_ summoner just fed him some fish!”

“Though to be fair,” adds Grey Wolf, “the last few celestial eagles we summoned  didn’t fare so well.”

Just as the Company lands nearby to the portals and the pile of rotting fish, a living fish pops out of the gate next to the pile and starts flopping about.  It is soon savaged by a swarm of birds that swoop down from nearby trees.

“It goes to the elemental plane of water!” says Kibi.  

Ernie takes a step back.

Morningstar walks over to the head of the dragon skeleton and casts _thought capture_.  She gets a vague thought of something extremely hungry.  

“Any dragon you don’t have to kill to get its interesting bits, is a good dragon,” says Dranko, breaking off some teeth for souvenirs.   

Morningstar casts _detect thoughts_ to be safe, and finds no minds other than those of the Company. 

Time for more scouting!  They tie a rope around Dranko’s waist.

“I’ll just go in for a quick look.   Then pull me out.”

“How many ‘Abernathys?’” asks Morningstar.

“Not many.  Maybe five.”

Dranko leaps through.  After the black void and uncomfortable pulling, he emerges near the top of a lush, grassy hill.  Flowering bushes surround him, and the air is clean and fresh.  Around him stretches a beautiful panoramic view of green hills dotted with colorful flowers and yellow gorse.  Half a mile to his right the bucolic landscape is terminated by the straight shoreline of a dazzlingly blue ocean.  The sky is a clear cobalt blue, marred only by the one strange thing he sees.  Out over the ocean is a small localized thunderstorm.  He can hear a distant thunder, and small lightning bolts flicker in its confines.  The storm is maybe a hundred feet on a side, but it’s hard to be sure of his perspective.  

Then he’s yanked back into the oasis, where he reports on what he’s seen.  The other agree that in a place that beautiful, there must be some horrible lurking evil waiting to pounce on them immediately. 

Wasting no time, Dranko gets set to explore the second gate, the one with the fish.  He borrows Kibi’s _helm of water breathing_ and steps through.  A few seconds later he is (unsurprisingly) under water.  He slowly starts to sink, the warbling blue frame of the portal rising away from him.  It’s cold and dark, but he can tell that neither surface nor bottom is within range of his darkvision.  Some fish swim by.   He pulls himself back up the rope and out, dripping wet.

“I’d like to explore further,” he says.  They use a longer rope (in fact, the _bag of endless rope_, one of their first magic items) cinched to pay out only a hundred feet or so.

“If I’m not back in 90 Abernathys, pull me out,” he says, and in he goes. 

This time, though, he starts sinking directly out from the gate, as if it’s in the “ceiling” relative to him.  Gravity has changed!  He blows some bubbles, and sure enough they rise back toward the portal.  He swims up after them, and when he pops back out in the oasis, he falls sideways onto the pile of fish bones.  Aravis explains about subjective gravity while Dranko scratches his head.

Dranko goes in a third time for good measure.  Gravity goes sideways this time, but it’s still just a cold, dark, salty ocean, with no floor, no surface, and no particularly interesting fish.  All the same, Aravis is keen to experience the new plane for himself.  (Planar travel and traits have always been an area of keen academic interest.)  He takes the helm from Dranko, ties the rope around his waist and steps in.

It’s dark.  He has no darkvision.  He sinks three feet and is immediately wrapped up in tentacles!  His arms are pinned to his sides and he cannot cast spells.  He feels something sharp bite at his thigh, but it’s turned away by his magical robe.

Back in the oasis, the rope is suddenly pulled taut, and it starts to slide through Step’s hands.   Instantly he and several of the others grab on and haul Aravis out of the water plane.  He comes out accompanied by a squid nearly as big as he is.  It’s snapping at him with its beak.  Grey Wolf draws Bostock and hacks the squid to pieces.

There’s a shocked silence while Aravis gets to his feet and shakes off some severed tentacles.  

“I suppose you’ll want this breaded and fried,” Ernie sighs.

…to be continued…


----------



## Krellic

Hilarious!  I love the idea of the shifting dunes burying the entrances to the rope tricks - Inspired!


----------



## shilsen

Sagiro said:
			
		

> The other agree that in a place that beautiful, there must be some horrible lurking evil waiting to pounce on them immediately.




It just depresses me how cynical PCs are nowadays


----------



## LightPhoenix

I love that image of fish just popping out of the portal.  For some reason, I can't get it out of my head that the sound they make is "Poot!"


----------



## Zaruthustran

Dude, what an awesome update. "Sliders" in D&D--love it. Did the huge moon cause tidal movement in the sand?

-z


----------



## Spatzimaus

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> Did the huge moon cause tidal movement in the sand?




Well, it sounded like the desert was on the moon of a gas giant (so the striped "moon" they saw was actually the Jupiter-like planet they were orbiting around).  In which case yes, the tidal forces could easily do that, especially if the entire "planet" is just one big desert; in fact, it'd probably be worse, with near-constant earthquakes.

And, it's not like the characters would have any idea what this implies.  Now, a moon probably couldn't easily form in a way that gave it that kind of orbit, atmosphere, etc., but it could be a captured object.  But never let the laws of reality get in the way of a good story.


----------



## Piratecat

Sagiro, you used "closet" twice when you meant to use "closer."  Anyways, Dranko now qualifies for any number of planeshifter prestige classes -- he's been to most of the elemental planes at this point!


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 209*_
*Kay, unhinged*

Grey Wolf, who was against Aravis’s unnecessary excursion, lets out a sigh.

“Never toss the mage through a portal,” he says, exasperated.

“Let’s go back to the nice place,” says Dranko.  Everyone agrees.

They all go through, and after the obligatory seconds of sucking void, they’re deposited on the lovely grassy hilltop that Dranko had described moments earlier.  Clear blue sky, green grass, yellow and red flowers, and….

Dranko points.  “Um, guys?  That storm is about twice as close as it was a few minutes ago.”

“It’s moving towards us, too,” observes Kay.

A stiff breeze is blowing from the storm, stirring their hair.  Dranko does a visual check on the other blue gate he saw.  It’s two hills away, with over a mile of trackless, steep and folded terrain between them.   It would be a good hour’s journey, and the storm will be on them in minutes.

“Towards us, and speeding up,” amends Kay.  “Clearly not natural.”

A sharp blast of lightning fires out of the storm as it reaches the shoreline, straight down into the ground.  Sand flies up in a cloud, while some is fused instantly to glass.   This engenders some hasty planning among the Company.  Dranko has a _lightning bolt – ironstorm_ flashback.

Kay’s eyes go wide for a moment.

“Oa Lyanna is extremely worried,” she says, trying to keep her own voice calm.  “She thinks this creature is a God.”

“Aiiieeeeee!” says Ernie.

“Leaving now,” adds Grey Wolf.

In a voice that literally is thunder, and whose meaning is mysteriously conveyed through the throbbing roar of sound, the storm speaks.

*WHY ARE YOU HERE?*

Aravis shouts into the wind.

“To restore our world to its proper state!”

Another bolt of lightning slams down from the storm onto the hillside, a hundred feet below the Company.

Morningstar casts _wind walk_ on several members of the party, to allow Aravis to _teleport_ the whole party at once.  The storm moves closer, and the wind-walkers start to have trouble standing still.

*YOU ARE NOT ABIDING BY THE AGREEMENT!*

Another lightning stroke burns the ground, closer this time.  In a loud and frantic voice, Dranko answers: 

“Perhaps you would be so kind as to tell us just what that agreement is!”

The wind-walkers start to take damage from the violent winds of the storm, which is now nearly upon them.

*YOU HAVE AGREED THAT…*

But they miss the end of the sentence, as Aravis _teleports_ the party to the distant hilltop with the other blue portal.  At once the sound of thunder grows quieter, and the wind here is only a gentle breeze.  They can see the storm far off, enshrouding the distant hill on which they just stood.

Kibi at once tries to move through this new portal, but discovers that in his misty form he cannot make egress.  His vaporous body just splashes against the blue light and flows around the portal’s edges.   At that, he and the other wind-walkers start the 30-second process of becoming solid, while the storm (seemingly aware of their new position) starts to boil toward them.  Ernie, solid to start with, jumps through to investigate the place into which they are almost certainly about to flee.

He lands on a solid stone floor, indoors.    He glances about and discovers he’s in a small room, or a large closet, six feet wide and fifteen feet long.  It’s lit by a sconce with _continual flame_ upon it at the far end.   The air is stale but breathable, just like the air in the woman’s bedroom.  In fact, like that boudoir, the walls here are of the same dark gray stone with a blue-stone diamond pattern inset.

On the two longer walls are pegs, most of which have cloaks or robes hanging from them.  With a last look around to verify that there are no obvious ways in or out other than the portal, Ernie leaps back to the grassy hillside near to the storm.

Meanwhile, said storm has been fast approaching the party.  Lightning is crackling angrily down from it, scorching the grass and blasting small trees and bushes into splinters.  Ernie sees upon his arrival that it’s only about 15 seconds away from them!  His fellows look at him expectantly.

“It’s a closet,” he summarizes.

“Is there another way out of it?” asks Kibi.

“I didn’t see any, but I didn’t spend any time searching.  It’s got the same blue stone diamond on the walls, like in that woman’s bedroom.”

“It’s a Black Circle place then,” says Morningstar.  “We should check it out.”

Aravis starts tying a rope around his waist.  Another bolt of lightning shoots out of the storm and blasts the ground.  

“The bedroom would be better than this!” shouts Grey Wolf above the howling wind.

“I want to stay and talk to it, just a little more,” says Aravis.  He hands the other end of his rope to Ernie, while Morningstar casts _bear’s endurance_ on him.   Everyone except Aravis leaps through into the cloakroom.  Once there, Grey Wolf grabs the rope in Ernie’s hands and suggests that everyone else do the same, “in case Aravis becomes a kite out there!”

Inside, the Company looks around as they hold the rope.   Morningstar turns to Kay.

“Why does Oa Lyanna think that’s a god?”

Oa Lyanna says to Kay in a shaking voice, “It’s a living storm!  Such beings are… beyond my scope.”

Outside, Aravis casts _energy buffer_ on himself, just in time for the storm to arrive.

*EXPLAIN WHY YOU HAVE BROKEN OUR AGREEMENT?* it thunders.

“We didn’t make an agreement with you,” Aravis explains calmly. “We aren’t of the people who created this place.  We believe that those people are involved in a horrible magic that has changed our world beyond all recognition.  We were told…”

*YOU ARE TRAPPED AS I AM* rumbles the storm.  *I WAS PROMISED… SOLITUDE.*

A lightning stroke crackles not ten feet from Aravis’s head.   His robes start flapping wildly in the gusting wind.

*I SHOULD SLAY YOU*, adds the storm.

“We are only here to fix our world,” says Aravis.  “We are not here to disturb you.”

*THEN YOU MUST LEAVE IMMEDIATELY AND NOT COME BACK.*

Well, okay!  Aravis steps through the portal.

Dranko has been listening intently, but hears nothing beyond the breathing of his party-mates.   After Aravis has returned and told his tale, Morningstar walks to the far end of the room to cast _thought capture_ while the others start a more thorough search of the place.  The cloaks and robes are mostly black, and of varying quality.  Some have black circles embroidered on them.  Flicker finds a bag of old spell components in the pockets of one.  (With the exception of Kibi and the halflings, everyone takes a black-circle garment that fits them and stows it with their gear.)  

Morningstar’s _thought capture_ captures a thought of someone musing upon an academic point of indecipherable magical philosophy.  She gets the sense that thinker is pondering a book or scroll he has just read.

There is a doorway out of the room, but it’s directly behind the blue portal at one end.  The portal is so close that it’s practically painted on, and so there’s no clear way to make use of the door.  Dranko goes back into wind form and manages to slip into the sliver-thin space between portal and door, but it does no good.  The door is also the boundary of this plane, and Dranko’s brain doesn’t allow him to try going further.

“Stupid Black Circle!” blurts Ernie.  “Why did they make a world that only consists of a stupid clothes closet!  Who builds a hallway that goes nowhere?”

That drives home to Kibi a fact that has been disturbing him.  Ordinarily his dwarvish senses can tell how far underground he is.  But here, in this little room, he has no sense of the surface.  There is none.

 Morningstar decides to blanket the far end of the room with more _thought captures_, and sifts through her mental findings.  Some are thoughts similar to the first one.  Some are more specific, thinking about tasks they have to do or jobs to perform, none of which make sense to Morningstar.    There are two thoughts, though, that are very distinct, and nearly identical though they come from two different minds.  The gist of these thoughts is that they’re worried about “the stability of the rotunda.”  The rotunda!  That was mentioned in the love letter found in the Black Circle Boudoir.

There’s a final thought of:  “Why do I have the crappiest cloak?”

Before the subject of “what do we do now” can be raised, Kibi suddenly grows tense.  He can sense something odd stirring around him.  The air takes on a peculiar vibration that only he seems to feel.

“I think something’s about to happen,” he warns.

“Why?” asks Grey Wolf.

“It feels like there’s about to be an earthquake.  Can’t you feel it?”

Actually, yes, they can.  Whatever it is is growing stronger.  Could it be the god-storm outside is affecting them?  Dranko jumps up and readies his whip.   The ground isn’t shaking, but somehow _reality_ is.   Except for Kibi, each member of the Company feels like they are coming unanchored from space-time, though they might not have thought to phrase it that way.  Kibi still feels firmly rooted, as though he is a heavy statue in a rushing wind.

“Fascinating,” says Aravis.   

(Grey Wolf isn’t much impressed either.  His guts felt worse than this for months!)

Kay’s eyes go wide.  “Ow!  It’s painful!  Don’t you feel it?”

Yes, everyone feels it, but no, no one else is in pain.  Her face contorts in a agonized grimace… and that’s _before_ the phenomenon spikes.

Everyone feels the world blur around them, feels caught in a terrible wrenching turbulence.  (Still not Kibi, though.   He remains solidly rooted to reality.)  Kay and Oa Lyanna scream as one, a terrible double-voiced cry of pain that is abruptly cut off as their body shifts several feet in a crazy blur before vanishing entirely.

“Kay!” cries Ernie.

“What happened?” shouts Morningstar.

“Holy s**t!” says Grey Wolf.

“Bring her back!  Bring her back!” Ernie wails, not sure who he’s asking.

A few seconds later, whatever it is dies down quickly.

“Kay is gone!” says Ernie, in case everyone hadn’t noticed.  “Aravis, find her!  Use the Maze!”

“I don’t think I can,” says Aravis, shaking his head.

Morningstar keeps a level head.

“Kay, are you here?” she speaks into the room.  No answer.

“I wonder what it was?” says Kibi.  “It was odd, but I felt fine through the whole thing.  What did it feel like to the rest of you?”

“You felt fine?” cries Dranko, incredulous.  “Why didn’t you tell anyone you felt fine?  Maybe Kay could have grabbed onto you and been okay!”

“Eyes?” says Ernie angrily, turning on Scree.  “Aren’t you suppose to stop this sort of… oooo.”  He stops, and grows red.  “I should have given her my belt!”

Scree rolls over to stand before Kibi, and the sapphire eyes blaze.

“Oh, _now_ they talk to us,” mutters Grey Wolf, disgusted.

“What happened to Kay?” Kibi demands.

*She is… probably safe.  She was not properly anchored.  She was made somewhat of air-stuff, and came loose.*

“Can we find her?” asks Morningstar.

*She is outside of Het Branoi.  She cannot be found while we are inside.*

Dranko laughs nervously.  “If any of us could survive out there on our own, it’s her.  She can eat moss and drink raindrops or something.”

“I hope the universe doesn’t decide that it hates her,” says Aravis, worried.

*She is not in this universe.*

“What?” several voices cry.

*She is probably still with you.*

Not comprehending, Ernie starts waving his arms around, as if Kay is merely invisible and might be discovered by touch.

*You are multiple.  Infinitely.  All of you are.*

“So where is she then?” asks Ernie.

*She is with others of you.  Probably.*

“Does that mean there are two Kays with the other ones of us?” asks Kibi.

*If so, I am sure they have much to discuss.*

Scree’s gemstone eyes lose their glow.  The Eyes of Moirel have finished talking.

Ernie wheels on Aravis, his head spinning.

“What does that mean!”

Aravis starts into a halting explanation of parallel world theory, planar offsets and simultaneous cosmic splintering.  Dranko gets a twinkle in his eye.

“You mean… there are two Morningstars.  And they could be together, at the same time?”

“You can’t really look at it that way,” says Aravis.

“Besides which,” says Morningstar, smirking at her fiancee. “At any given time, even if one of us were happy with you, the other would be annoyed at you.”

“So I can’t win,” Dranko complains.

“Well, there’s a lot of disagreement about how the universe works, in academic circles…”

“You’re making this crap up, aren’t you,” says Dranko.

Morningstar stamps her foot.  “How could the universe have multiple versions of people?  That’s ridiculous!  When I cast a _sending_, I get you, not multiple versions of you.”

“Well, you get the one you’re more… anchored to,” Aravis explains.

“So we exist in multiple planes?” asks Grey Wolf?

“Like I said, there’s some argument about that.”

Dranko tries another optimistic angle.  “So why don’t we get one of the other ’us-es’ to fix the world, while we go lie down someplace warm?”

“It doesn’t work that way,” sighs Aravis.  “Those other ‘us-es’ don’t care about our universe.  They don’t know about it.”

“Goddammit!” Dranko spits.

“Is our Kay somewhere where there’s another Kay?” asks Morningstar, still not entirely buying it.

“That, I don’t know,” admits Aravis.  “Yes, probably.   It sounds like that’s what the Eyes think.”

Grey Wolf’s head hurts.  He groans.  Morningstar tries _sending_ to Kay and gets no answer.  It appears that Kay is just gone.  No one speaks for a few seconds.

“I have a theory that I’d like to put to the test,” says Aravis, tying the rope around his own waist.  “I’m going to step through the portal.  As soon as I’m gone, I want you to pull me back.”

“Are you protected from lightning?” asks Dranko.

“Yeah.  _energy buffer_.”

He steps through the portal.  He finds himself in the middle of the storm, but before it can do him any harm the others yank him back as instructed.  

“Well, we didn’t move physically, when whatever happened happened.”

“I wonder if that sort of thing happens often… like earthquakes,” ponders Grey Wolf.

“Or maybe it happened because of the “instability of the rotunda,” guesses Morningstar.

“My rotunda’s pretty stable,” Dranko laughs nervously, patting his own backside.  No one else laughs.   “Well, okay then,” he continues.  “I suggest we make camp.  It’s that, or make a run for it out there.”

“Remember what happened last time,” says Kibi.  “If we camp here for a whole day, tomorrow there’ll be _five_ storms waiting out there…

“…and lots of little stormlets?” says Dranko.

Ernie makes a noise of frustration as he prepares his cooking gear.   “I want to make a fire, but this room would just fill up with smoke.  And I was going to cook Kay’s favorite.”

“Why?” asks Dranko.  “She’s not here to enjoy it.”

“Dranko!” snaps Grey Wolf, but it’s too late.  Ernie turns on Dranko, his face florid.

“Because maybe I’m thinking about her!” he yells.

“Sorry, Ernie.”

After a cold meal during which no one says much, Ernie says,

“I think we  should wait it out in here.  Remember, the storm wasn’t on top of a gate when we came through.  It was out over the ocean.  Maybe it’ll get bored and go back there.”

The others nod in unenthusiastic agreement.

“So,” says Dranko after another awkward pause.  “Who wants to play mumblety-peg?”

…to be continued…


----------



## KidCthulhu

Uh, Sagiro.  Aren't the eyes green and purple?  Did we get a sapphire eye somewhere?  'Cuz if the sapphire eye has been with us all along, like Dorothy's ability to get back to Kansas, I'm so going to kill you.


----------



## Sagiro

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Uh, Sagiro.  Aren't the eyes green and purple?  Did we get a sapphire eye somewhere?  'Cuz if the sapphire eye has been with us all along, like Dorothy's ability to get back to Kansas, I'm so going to kill you.




Scree's eyes are sapphires.  When the Eyes speak through Kibi's familiar, it's Scree's eyes that light up.

Please don't kill me.

-Sagiro


----------



## shilsen

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Scree's eyes are sapphires.  When the Eyes speak through Kibi's familiar, it's Scree's eyes that light up.
> 
> Please don't kill me.
> 
> -Sagiro



 Dammit! After I saw KidCthulhu's post, I was so hoping that Sagiro had pulled a RB trick on the Company again. Ah well, I'm sure it'll happen soon!


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Scree's eyes are sapphires.  When the Eyes speak through Kibi's familiar, it's Scree's eyes that light up.
> 
> Please don't kill me.
> 
> -Sagiro




Ah.  Thanks for explaining.  Now I'm less confused and homicidal.  

Towards you, at least.


----------



## Piratecat

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Towards you, at least.





Help me.


----------



## shilsen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Help me.



  

You know what? If you were to update your Story Hour we just might


----------



## LightPhoenix

shilsen said:
			
		

> You know what? If you were to update your Story Hour we just might



Eh, I like KidC better anyway.


----------



## Krafen

I would appreciate a few recommendations for good story hours. I am up-to-date on both Sagiro's and Piratecat's story hours and I'm looking for some other good ones to follow.


----------



## RangerWickett

You're probably better off posting a new thread, or looking for one of the many threads of that sort already posted.  I'd search one up for you, but the boards are being rather slow right now.  Thus, I can only suggest my old old storyhour, which is long-since finished: the Savannah Knights storyhour.  http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=87

But it's poor etiquette to advertise one's own storyhour in someone else's thread.  *grin*


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

bump of one of my favorite SH's


----------



## KidCthulhu

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> Eh, I like KidC better anyway.




I know you're only saying this to get PC's goat, but thanks!


----------



## ledded

Just wanted to hop in and say that I am soooo loving this Story Hour; great work all around. Truly, some nice RBDM moments.


----------



## Sagiro

Things have looked better for our heroes.

They are in a world whose entirety consists of a small cloakroom.   The only exit may lead into a misanthropic god-storm.  And beyond that, the only known way out leads to a desert.  And beyond _that_ are a bunch of other sliced-off bits of worlds, all of which are somehow contained in the small stone tower of Het Branoi.  Which is in the middle of a giantish town, the citizens of whom will probably be very ill-disposed toward the Company should the heroes emerge.  And the town is in a cold northern wasteland where the giants are downright friendly compared to the beholders and blood foxes.  And all of that is in a horrid alternate world where the supreme evil being has claimed victory over the good guys, and none of the party’s allies have ever even _existed_ as far as they can tell.

Could be worse, though.  Could be raining.

But enough gloomy editorializing!

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 210*_
*mutually assured paranoia*

“You wouldn’t have a bedroom in one place and a coatroom in another,” says Dranko, speaking between mouthfuls of bread and dried apples.  “I think that somehow it all shattered, and the rooms got flung through the other dimensions.”

It’s a crowded breakfast in the cloakroom.  Ernie has done his best without any fire, and the little room is filled with the sounds of contented chewing. 

Morningstar nods.  “And the ‘Rotunda’ was someplace where they were performing a ritual, and something went wrong, and that’s what made it unstable.”

Dranko gets up and starts gesturing as he speculates.  

“Let’s imagine that the circle of gates in the grassy field was the ’Rotunda.’  That’s where they did their experiments.   Something goes wrong, and reality shatters outward from there, in different directions.  Like dropping a rock into a big bowl of milk, and there’s splatters in all directions…”  

The other look up at him, awaiting the stunning conclusion, but Dranko pretty much runs out of steam.

“…which is a fascinating theory that doesn’t tell us a damn thing,” he admits, sitting back down and looking a bit sheepish.   

Spell preparation follows breakfast.  Morningstar plans to cast another _find the path_, and if all goes well they can avoid the storm entirely.   Not that Grey Wolf believes _that’s_ likely to happen.

“Ok.. let’s go get lit up!” he says once everyone’s ready.

They step through the gate, leaving the cloakroom behind.  A few seconds later they are back in the lovely wilderness, but while they’re not in the midst of the storm, they can see it hovering a short distance away.  The sounds of its wind and thunder are quite clear, and while Morningstar casts her _find the path_ it starts to swirl in their direction.

Hoping to preempt hostilities, Dranko calls out to it.

“Oh great one!  We wish to leave and not bother you again!  Will you let us?”

*WHY HAVE YOU COME BACK?* booms the storm.

“That was a dead end!” shouts Dranko, pointing to the blue portal.  “There was no other way to go!  We want to leave this place and not bother you!  We’re small and fleshy insects!  We’d just like to leave!”

Flicker raises his eyebrows and silently mouths to Dranko:  “Small fleshy insects?”

A jagged bolt of lightning strikes the ground not twenty feet from where the Company stands.  Dranko tries another tactic.

“If we can free you, will you let us?”

Morningstar’s spell finishes up, and gets the direction of another portal out of this world.

*ARE YOU PROPOSING SUCH A THING?* rumbles the storm.

“We’re trying to free everyone!” says Ernie.  “To bring an end to the prison that is this place.”

The storm agitates and billows for a few seconds, thinking.  Then, loudly: 

*LEAVE!  COME BACK WHEN YOU HAVE SOMETHING USEFUL TO DO.  AND TELL MERCURY THAT I WILL NO LONGER ABIDE BY THE AGREEMENT WE MADE, SINCE YOU HAVE BROKEN IT.*

Lightning starts crashing down all around them.  The crackling and thunderous booms are deafening.

“Who is Mercury?” shouts Ernie.  He gets no response.

“We sense there is a gate that way!” Morningstar calls into the wind.  “May we proceed to it?”

*AS FAST AS YOU CAN*

Morningstar can only cast _wind walk_ on half the group, so after adding a _Rary’s telepathic bond_, the party splits up.  Some fly on quickly ahead in vaporous form, while the rest start an arduous overland march through the overgrown hills.  It’s hardly fair.  After only a few minutes of whooshing over lush, beautiful hills covered with red flowers, the wind-walkers arrive at another blue portal with enough time to take a refreshing swim in a nearby lake.  The walking group sweats and labors through brambles and tall grass, though Kibi casts _xorn movement_ when he gets bored, after which he and Scree dive _through_ the hills rather than walk over them.  The sight of the dwarven wizard popping up out of the earth and then diving back into it like a frolicking porpoise is at once amusing and surreal.

Without incident the Company reconvenes at the new blue portal some four hours later.   The storm has not followed them.  An examination of the grass around the portal indicates that it is not regularly used – big surprise there!  As usual Dranko wants to go through first, but Aravis (not entirely trusting Dranko’s diplomatic skills) wants him to have company.   After some haggling they decide that Ernie, Dranko and Aravis will go through the portal, each tied to ropes held by those staying behind.  In they go.

The first thing Dranko and Aravis notice upon arrival is that things are brushing against their faces.   They ring like small bells or wind-chimes, which turns out to be exactly what they are, suspended from a wooden contraption like a gallows.

They are outdoors, on a small circular patch of ground ringed by a wide, deep and empty moat.  Above them, suspended on a circle of poles on the far side of the moat, is a heavy mesh netting.  The only to walk off the small “island” they’re on would be via a single slender rope bridge, itself also covered by the netting.  

On the other side of the moat, near to where the bridge goes, about a dozen figures stir, their attention captured by the ringing of the chimes.  A normal-looking sun is setting behind them, making it hard to make out details, especially given that the mesh netting already obscures their lines of sight.

“Ernie,” whispers Dranko.  “Head back through.  We’ll probably need _teleports_ and _wind walks_ to get through that.”  Ernie hops right back through to rejoin the others.

From beyond the moat and the netting, a female voice calls out to them.

“Drop your weapons and declare yourselves!”  

It’s strange, but what they hear is a fuzzy background noise of someone speaking in a strange language, while (more clearly) they hear the same voice speaking in Charagan common!  Before Aravis can say anything, Dranko shouts back across the moat.

“We’re from the elemental plane of water.  We’re a little lost!”

You couldn’t tell from looking at him, but Aravis rolls his eyes.

“Can you give us directions on how to get back?” adds Dranko.

“To the elemental plane of water?” says the woman, sounding a bit confused.

“Yeah,” says Dranko.  “Somehow we ended up in a desert.”

Dranko and Aravis become aware that somewhere near the crowd of people, a loud bell has starting to ring in a repeating pattern.

“What are your intentions?” shouts the woman.

“To get back… to the elemental plane… of wah-ter,” answers Dranko slowly, as if taking to a child.

Aravis nearly gives himself eye strain from all the eye-rolling he’s doing by now.

In a similar tone to Dranko (though maybe more peeved), the woman responds, “If you’ve been there before, I suggest you simply retrace your route."

“There’s something blocking our way,” says Aravis.

“How did you pass the storm?” asks the woman curiously.

“The storm allowed us to pass,” says Aravis.  “But it will not allow us to pass back.”

“Say, is there a Mercury here?” asks Dranko, switching gears.  “The Storm said something about wanting to talk to Mercury.”

Aravis thinks to himself that not letting Dranko ply his diplomacy alone still didn’t solve the problem of Dranko simply being there in the first place.  He corrects Dranko, amending that the Storm wanted _them_ to talk with Mercury.

“Are you prepared to disarm yourselves?” asks the woman, wearily.  

Although this request is easily granted (Aravis carries no weapons, and Dranko subtly drops his whip into his _handy haversack_ before making a show of dropping his non-magical mace), the question sparks another flurry of verbal jousting.  But when Dranko starts pressing with more questions, the woman interrupts him.

“You will answer our questions first.  We need to be assured of your intentions.”

“We’ve told you our intentions,” says Aravis.  “You can believe them or not.”   _I know I wouldn’t_, he thinks.

“Actually, I have another intention, now that you mention it,” calls Dranko.  “If you have an outhouse or something, that would be great.”

Someone near the woman starts laughing, and she wheels on him and demands he be quiet.

“How many of you are there?” the woman then demands to know.  “There was a third member of your group, who went back through the gate.  To get others?”

“It’s standard operating procedure,” explains Dranko cheerily.  “Whenever we go for a swim into the unknown, back in the plane of water, we always make sure there’s one person in…er, what’s the word I’m looking for.  Oh, yeah… reserve!”

“Answer the question, please.”

“There is one more of us,” lies Aravis.

“So there are three of you.  If he did not go back for others, why _did_ he go?”

“I think you scared him,” says Aravis.  _Boy, this is getting thin…_

“If we find that you are lying, it will not color our perceptions well.”

“How do you color a perception?” asks Dranko.  He turns to Aravis and says, “Maybe it’s a translation error.”  Then, back to the woman:  “We’ll go get him back.  I’ll stay here with you.”

Aravis hops back through the portal.

Meanwhile, Ernie has explained the situation to the others.  There is a short but furious debate about how much subterfuge they should use – the more of it, the harder it may be to win trust later.  Caution wins the day; all the remaining party members are made _invisible_, and some are already connected with a _telepathic bond_.  They can reveal their true numbers once they’re assured that things are on the up and up.

Ernie and Aravis remind everyone to duck down as they cross the portal, to avoid setting off the chimes.

Dranko sees that another large group of people has come to join those already on guard, presumably summoned by the (still ringing) bell.  Wanting to put them more at ease, Dranko decides to introduce himself properly.

“Say, my name’s One Slippery Squid.  Nice to meet you!”

“Did you say ‘Squid?’” asks the woman.  There’s too much netting in the way to see, but Dranko can hear that her eyebrows are significantly raised.

“Hey, don’t make fun of my name!” he says testily.  “It’s not my fault.”

The whole party comes through the portal.  Only Ernie and Aravis are visible, and Aravis makes no attempt to avoid the chimes.

“Are you usually the spokesman for the three of you?” asks the woman.  Some amusement has crept into her voice, but there’s mostly still frustration and impatience.

“No, says Aravis, shaking his head.  “It’s just that we can’t stop him from talking.”

There’s some more back-and-forth banter, during which neither side earns much trust from the other.   Once the rest of the party has taken in their surroundings, Dranko, Ernie and Aravis agree to cross the rope bridge, leaving their (visible) weapons behind.  Most of the now twenty or so strangers have bows of various sorts aimed at them as they emerge, though there is a young man without a weapon, standing at the other end of the bridge, observing them intently as they cross.  A holy symbol (a small yellow cross) hangs around his neck.

“What God is that?” asks Dranko, pointing to the holy symbol.

The woman interrupts before the man can answer.  “The way this is still working is, until we deem you safe, information will flow from you, to us.  We mean no offense, of course.”

“Speaking of flowing from me to you… outhouse?”

“Piss in the moat,” snaps the woman, nearing the end of her patience.

There are yet _more_ tiring negotiations.  The man with the yellow cross speaks to the woman in a language none of the Company understands.  (“They don’t detect as evil,” he says.  “Unfortunately I cannot detect for derangement.”)

Eventually the three of them agree not only to talk, but to have their hands bound, if instead of being taken away for questioning, their “hosts’” superiors will come here to talk instead.  That’s agreeable to the woman, and a runner is sent away across some low grassy hills.  It’s cool, and the sun has set by now.   The people (mostly a mixture of various humanoid types, many of which are unknown to the party) have lit some torches.  Kibi has activated his _Ioun Stone of Tongues_, while Morningstar has turned back into vapor and flown up through the netting to keep watch from high above.

Sitting down with his hands tied loosely behind him, Dranko clears his throat.

“Just so we get back on the right foot, I’m going to tell you about two lies I just told you.”

“Ah,” says the woman, looking unsurprised.

“You see, we were afraid you were Black Circle people.”

“Black Circle people?”

“Yeah.  So, for starters, my name’s Dranko.”

“Not One Slippery Squid?”

“Naw, I made that up.”

“Ah.  And you’re not from the elemental plane of water either, are you.”

“No,” admits Dranko.  “But we did go there!”

“Ah.”

Morningstar relays via telepathy that there’s another group of people coming their way.  Before long they hear the sound of a horse approaching, and moments later a group of six people come around the hill.  There is no horse, but one of the newcomers is a large centaur, with a chestnut body and a large bushy beard.  A sword hangs from his equine body, in easy reach of his human hands.

“So!” says the centaur in a deep, booming voice.  “We have more visitors!”

Like the woman, his voice is somehow getting translated (from the Company's point of view) into Charagan common.

“Do you often have visitors?” asks Dranko.

“No, not often.  What are your names?”

All three names are given honestly.  The centaur smiles broadly at them and introduces himself in kind.

“Nice to meet you, “ he bellows.  “My name is Mercury.”

…to be continued…


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Ouch, I thought Mercury was going to be a bad guy.


----------



## Pyske

Hopefully, he's going to be a guy who's chock full of information about what the heck is going on in Het Brannoi. 

 . . . . . . . -- Eric


----------



## Mishihari Lord II

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Ouch, I thought Mercury was going to be a bad guy.




He's polite and pleasant (so far).  Of course he's a bad guy.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Mishihari Lord II said:
			
		

> He's polite and pleasant (so far).  Of course he's a bad guy.




Isn't that always the case.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Wow, Just finished the story hour, from beginning to end.  Fantastic stuff Sagiro.  

How often do you all play?  Also, is Aravis making some sort of check to see if he can use Crosser's Maze?  If so, what is the check?

Thank you for the info, and I can't wait for the next installment...=)


----------



## Piratecat

We play between once to twice a month; we try for every two weeks. It's never often enough. We played Friday night, and Sagiro is SUCH A RAT BASTARD. To quote ourselves from back when we tried to disarm a trap by throwing a summoned squid at it, the last game was _not_ our finest moment. Luckily, the story hour isn't too far behind at this point.

Aravis makes a knowledge (planes) check to use the Crosser's Maze. I think he's currently at +15.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Thanks PC, anyone one have a guess as to when Aravis will be able to use the maze again?  I'm curious what details it shows regarding Het Branoi.

And just FYI, the StevenAC PDF Compilation of the SH is really great and if you haven't checked it out, you should.  Thanks StevenAC.  And thanks Sagiro, for a great story hour.


----------



## Sagiro

Jackylhunter said:
			
		

> Thanks PC, anyone one have a guess as to when Aravis will be able to use the maze again?  I'm curious what details it shows regarding Het Branoi.
> 
> And just FYI, the StevenAC PDF Compilation of the SH is really great and if you haven't checked it out, you should.  Thanks StevenAC.  And thanks Sagiro, for a great story hour.




Regarding the Crosser's Maze, I have a good guess that you'll find out before too long.    I have to disagree with PCat that the last game was "not their finest moment."  Thanks to some quick thinking on the part of the PCs, they saved the lives of hundreds of innocents under some pretty extreme pressure.

I'm glad you like the story, Jackylhunter.  And yeah, StevenAC's .pdfs are just the best.

-Sagiro


----------



## Jackylhunter

Topic sliped to the 3rd page, can't have that...=)

bump


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 211*_
*the Eye of the Storm*


Ernie stares up at the centaur standing above him.  He looks a bit sheepish.

“The storm is mad at you,” he says.  Mercury frowns.

“And what cause did I give the storm to be angry?”

“I don’t think you did,” says Ernie, coloring.  “But…uh…”

“The storm thinks we’re connected to you somehow,” says Aravis.  “We came through its territory.”

“You came from the… fascinating!” says Mercury.  “You’ll have to review our map for accuracy!”

Dranko perks up.  “You have a map?  Sure!  We’d love to get a look at it.”

The centaur takes a moment just looking down at Dranko, Ernie and Aravis, sizing them up.  He starts up a conversation along the same lines as did the woman – where did they come from, what are their intentions, that sort of thing.  When the three from the Company state that they not only came into this maze of planar bits on purpose, but also have an idea of who’s behind it, Mercury’s eyes go wide with interest.   Either from hope, or trust, or some combination of the two, he bids that the three of them be set loose. 

Aravis clears his throat as he gets to his feet.

“And now that we’ve gained your trust…well, we didn’t trust you, either.  There are more than just the three of us.”

“And do any of your friends have hostile intent towards us?” asks Mercury, starting intently at the wizard.

“No.  But we couldn’t risk exposing the whole group, in case _you_ had hostile intent.”

“I’m just the cannon fodder,” adds Dranko.

Mercury grins at them.  

“You must adventure for a living,” he says.

“Not so much a living as a calling,” says Aravis.

“And we wish it would stop calling!” pipes up Ernie.

“We can always use more of your type here,” says Mercury.  “And it sounds like you have a particularly interesting story to tell.  So, where _are_ the rest of you.”

The others have congregated nearby, and now they drop their invisibility spells.  Morningstar wafts gently down from above.

“Ah,” says Mercury.  _”Experienced_ adventurers.”

Dranko and Ernie suggest that some additional defenses might be good, to protect against the kind of incursion the party managed.   Aravis realizes that no matter what the defenders do, there will always be a way around it unless they’re prepared to just wall the portal up.  He says as much.

Mercury nods.  “Yes, the only sure way would be to block off the Way entirely, but of course we dare not do that.”

This comment piques the party’s curiosity, given the orcs’ terror when Kibi briefly blocked a portal with a _wall of force_.

“We’ve heard that before,” says Aravis.  But no one follows up on the subject, and the conversation meanders to other things as they head away from the portal.   Of the many people who came running at the bell, a dozen or so walk back in a crowd around them, chattering.  The Company can only understand Mercury, except for Kibi who still is under the effect of _tongues_.  The dwarf listens in on some of the talk, and finds that (no surprise) they are the topic of conversation.  The folk wonder where the party truly came from, and how powerful they are.

“They look like strong adventurers,” says one.  “It’s always good to get their type, to help defend the Inn.”

The terrain is not as lush as the storm world, or as forested as Green Valley, but it’s pleasant enough.   The party spies a small herd of cows on a nearby hill, and a farmer waves down at them.  The sun looks more like their own than many they’ve seen, and the air is cool and fragrant with new flowers.  Ernie figures it’s late spring.

“Are you getting older?” he asks Mercury.

“No, and neither are you, I suspect.  But you’ll still be hungry.  When we get back, we’ll get you something to eat, and there are plenty of rooms.”

“It’ll be nice to eat something someone else has cooked,” admits Ernie.

“We have an excellent cook!” Mercury says, beaming.  “Her name is Spinnizia.  She’s been with us seven years or so.”

“I’m a cook too!” says Ernie, unable to help himself.  “And I have a bunch of spices to share.”

“I’m sure Spinnizia will appreciate talking with someone else who’s a master of the art.  As for the spices, that will be for you and her to discuss.  Though once you’ve had some food and drink yourselves, we can all have a good chat about other matters.  I’m sure Aristus and Gloriana will be eager to question you about your origins.  If you really know what’s causing all of this… well, that’s very exciting!”

“We’re pretty sure we know _who_, if not exactly _what_," says Morningstar.  Then, because she’s curious, she asks, “How many of you are adventurers?

“If I use the term loosely, maybe… fifteen?  There are the three of us who founded the place, and some others have come through over the years.  They come and go.”

Dranko smiles and fails to resist the opportunity to boast.  “The last time we saw that many together, it was when we fought the dragon during the war.”

“You fought a dragon!” exclaims Mercury, though whether he’s truly impressed or just trying to make Dranko feel good, no one knows for sure.

“Yeah.  It was insane,” adds Dranko.

“I’m sure you’ll have many good stories to entertain the common room,” says Mercury.

“How long have you been here?” asks Ernie.

“Fourteen years.”

“You sick of it yet?” asks Dranko.

“Sometimes.  How long have _you_ been here?”

“Just a couple of months,” answers Dranko.  “And most of that was spent training.”

“Where do people here come from?” asks Ernie.

“There are two main avenues  -- some come from the Formian areas, and some come from the Demonic Slices. You’re the first to come through the Way from the Slice with the storm.”

“And against whom do you defend your inn?” asks Kibi.  “Demons, then?”

“We’ve had numerous encounters over the years.  Twice it was Demons.  Fortunately they are discomfited by the distance from their home Slices.”

“Why do you call them ‘Slices?’” asks Ernie.

“Aristus calls them that.  It seems like what they are – slices of worlds, patched together.”

“I like it!” says Ernie.  “It makes me think of food.”  Then, blushing a bit:  “okay, I admit, everything makes me think of food.”

There’s a good laugh all around.  The group is cresting a final hill, following a cleared footpath that winds its way up via gentle switchbacks.  When they reach its top and start to descend the far side, they get their first glimpse of the inn.  It’s huge, as large as a lord’s mansion, if not bigger.   From this distance and vantage, the Company can see that there’s an original structure at its center that was probably a smaller original building.  It’s been added to and expanded in various haphazard architectural styles.  It almost looks like a tiny little town with all its buildings mashed together.    The last light of the setting sun illuminates it across a flat grassy field, and cheery lights burn in its dozens of windows.

“We’re never going to leave it one piece,” mutters Aravis, shaking his head.

“With that many wings, we’d never destroy all of it!” says Dranko.

“I hope you don’t destroy any of it!” exclaims Mercury.

“Oh, it’s never on purpose,” says Dranko.

“And it’s never our fault,” adds Aravis.

“Don’t you think I know how it is?” laughs Mercury.  “I’ve spent most of my adult life adventuring.”

“Did you destroy any inns?” asks Grey Wolf.

“Well, it depends on how you define ‘destroy.’”

“I like this guy!” exclaims Dranko.  

For the rest of the walk down the hill, the Company regales their host with the tale of how the furniture in a Kivian tavern came to life and attacked them.   There is laughter, and knowing grins, and Mercury asks for all the details of the statue that came to life, and the animated coach that ran over poor Grey Wolf.   Telling tales to a fellow campaigner, the Company for the first time since Green Valley is truly at ease. 

There are plenty of people milling around the vicinity of the inn; they’re doing chores, carrying farming implements, rolling barrels, leading livestock on ropes, that sort of thing.  Many are human, and many are not.   Most stop to stare at the Company, but typically this is followed by a wave and a smile.  Kibi’s nose tells him that a small building across a small street from the larger inn is a distillery.    Mercury pokes his head into the door.

“How are we doing in there?” he calls.

“Still a couple of days before the next batch is done,” a gruff voice answers, again in that translated Charagan common.  “Gonna be good stuff, though, when it’s finished.”

“Good, good,” answers Mercury.  “We have nine more guests arriving, and a stout lot they are by the look of them.  They’re going to be thirsty!”

The voice inside laughs a hearty laugh.

A minute later the Company stands at the wide wooden doors of the sprawling inn.  A large painted sign above the doors names the place “Eye of the Storm.”   Inside is an enormous commons – the entire original inn, in fact.  It’s nearly a hundred feet on a side, supported by thick wooden beams.   Dozens of people roam around it, or sit at tables eating and drinking.  The smells of good food wafts from a kitchen at the back – meats, potatoes, garlic, savory vegetables.

Kibi pinches himself.  

“Am I dreaming?”

Once the Company is seated Mercury trots off to find his friends Aristus and Gloriana.  Dranko sees that there is a large piece of yellow parchment tacked to the far wall, but before he can even rise to go take a look, a huge creature comes ducking (literally) out of a nearby side-door.   It’s over eight feet tall, with short brown fur covering its body and two huge curved horns jutting from its bull’s head.

“A minotaur!” breathes Ernie.

It comes stomping right over to them, rattling the mugs on their table.

“Hey there!” bellows the minotaur.  “You must be the new guys!”  He winks at Morningstar.  “And the new gal!” he adds.  “Nice to see ya!”

“I’m Ernie!  What’s your name?”

“I’m Horny.”

Before Dranko can even comment, the minotaur says, “Nooooooo jokes about it, either.”

“We’re going to get along great!” says Dranko, grinning widely.

“Why would we joke about it?” asks Aravis innocently.

Horny looks down at Aravis and starts laughing uproariously, as if the wizard has just made the funniest joke imaginable.  He reaches out to shake Aravis’s hand, but pulls back suddenly as he sees the star-field eye-sockets.

“Woooooaaaaa!” he exclaims.  “And who are you?”

“I’m Aravis.”

“Aravis, is it safe to shake your hand?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t shake my hand.”

“HA!  I’ll take my chances.  Put ‘er there!”

Crunch!  Horny’s handshake is finger-bruisingly vigorous.   Many hands are crushed in the minotaur’s powerful grip.  Ernie makes a point of squeezing back, prompting Horny to comment.

“Whoa!  You pack a lot in that little package, don’t ya?”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Horny,” says Ernie, just a big smugly.

With the introductions out of the way, Horny leans over the table and clears his throat.

“Now.  While you’re here, here are the rules.  Just one rule, actually.  The rule is:  don’t piss me off, or I’ll kick your ass outta here.  Got that?”

“What sorts of things would make you mad?” asks Ernie.

“Just use your head.  If you think something will tick me off, it probably will.”

“Is this your inn?” asks Kibi.

“My inn?  Hell no!” says Horny.  “It’s Mercury’s inn.  His, and Gloriana’s, and Aristus’s.”

“A word of advice,” says Aravis, grinning.  He points at Dranko.  “Save yourself the trouble and just kick him out right now.”

“All right!” roars Horny.  He tromps around the table to where Dranko is sitting, but instead of throwing the half-orc out, he asks, “What do you say to that?  You gonna sit there and take that from your pal there?  Heh heh heh.”

Dranko shrugs his shoulders, then quick as lightning un-slings his whip and lashes out, yanking Aravis’s chair out from under him.  Aravis barely leaps up in time to avoid falling over.

“What the hell is that thing?” asks Horny.  “Looks like my tail!”

“He’s very good with it,” says Ernie.  “He very seldom puts his own eye out.”

Food and drink is brought to the Company in great quantities.   Horny informs them that the Inn doesn’t use money; the party will be expected to pay for room and board with services, helping out around the inn with chores, and (most likely) being assigned to guard duty at one of the Ways.  In between bites of surprisingly good bread, Ernie asks:

“Where are you from, Mr. Horny?”

“I’m from a place called Perrik.  Nice place.  Least, it was.”

“What happened to it?” asks Dranko.

“Well, I’m sure it’s still just fine,” says Horny.  “But my little piece of it got bitten off.  Made my way through the Formian territory ‘til I got here.”

“Formians?” asks Grey Wolf.

“Ants,” says Horny.  “Crazy things.  Kind of like Mercury, but  instead of being a man and a horse, they’re like… well, mostly ant, but with a straight-up torso like you guys.”

“That’s just wrong,” Dranko sympathizes.

“Tell me about it!  They’re _freaky!_  You don’t want to piss ‘em off, though.  I mean, I could pulverize one or two of ‘em, but there’re a _lot_ of em.  And they’re pretty strong.  You know how a normal ant can carry around a crumb the size of itself?  Imagine if the ant was as big as you!”

Horny looks back at Aravis, and abruptly changes the subject,

“What _is_ that, anyway.”

“It’s a magical artifact,” Aravis explains simply.

“Right.  Well, don’t set it off in here.”

Aravis nods.

“Now, if you fine people will excuse me, I got some other chores to do.   There are rooms for you upstairs, one for each of you if you want.   It’s been a light month, and people are leaving more or less at the same rate they’re showing up.  Lots of people choose to stay, and others get restless and go off, to try to find out what’s going on.  Usually through the ‘Gate of No Return’ – it’s like roulette – but some go into the demon slices.  Well, nice to meet ya!”  

As he turns to go, Ernie asks one more question.

“Mr. Horny, have you ever seen anyone wearing clothing with black circles on them?”

“Not that I remember,” says Horny.

“What about orcs?” asks Kibi.  “Have you had trouble with the orcs?”

“Orcs?” asks Horny, scratching his head.  Then:  “Oh!  You must be talking about the orcish hub.  No, we ain’t seen any orcs.  They’d never make it this far.  The Storm would eat ‘em, right?”

And laughing at this last image, Horny stomps away, leaving the Company with plates full of food, mugs full of ale, and heads full of a hundred questions.

…to be continued…


----------



## shilsen

Two NPCs who are both friendly and nice to the Company? These guys have to be evil!


----------



## el-remmen

shilsen said:
			
		

> Two NPCs who are both friendly and nice to the Company? These guys have to be evil!




No. No. No.

Don't you know anything about being a Rat Bastard DM?  I'm sure they are good and friendly and the kind of folks Abernathy's Company would make fast friends with - thus, when they are forced to kill them to save the world or some other reason it will be that much more heart-wrenchingly painful for them.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Cool stuff Sagiro,  ...a minotaur named Horny?  Now that's funny...=)


----------



## Zaruthustran

Wow. This is so cool.

It's always fun, as a player or DM, for the party to encounter other adventurers. Finally, they get to interact with _peers_.

This must have been an awesomely fun session.

-z


----------



## ConnorSB

Man... however cool it may seem now, I'm betting it will be just as scary and awful a session later.


----------



## shilsen

nemmerle said:
			
		

> No. No. No.
> 
> Don't you know anything about being a Rat Bastard DM?  I'm sure they are good and friendly and the kind of folks Abernathy's Company would make fast friends with - thus, when they are forced to kill them to save the world or some other reason it will be that much more heart-wrenchingly painful for them.



 Hangs head in shame at missing the obvious. Rushes off to reread the RBDM manual.


----------



## StevenAC

Sagiro said:
			
		

> I'm glad you like the story, Jackylhunter.  And yeah, StevenAC's .pdfs are just the best.



Thanks Sagiro -- and Jackylhunter!

I've just revisited this thread to collect the next batch of posts; I was amazed to find I already have about 30 pages of material for the next installment...
_*cue Neverending Story theme...*_ 




			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> "I'm Horny."
> Before Dranko can even comment, the minotaur says, "Nooooooo jokes about it, either."
> "We're going to get along great!" says Dranko, grinning widely.



I can only imagine the fun this session must have been...


----------



## ConnorSB

bump


----------



## Ancalagon

Hello

I haven't read story hours in, well, ages, and I was starting to catch up again.

Last time I read this one (one of my faves for sure) the group had just been transfered to an alternate reality, where the bad guys had one.  Can someone tell me roughly what page that is?

Thanks a million!

Ancalagon


----------



## StevenAC

Ancalagon said:
			
		

> Last time I read this one (one of my faves for sure) the group had just been transfered to an alternate reality, where the bad guys had one.  Can someone tell me roughly what page that is?




You need to go all the way back to page 30 -- a lot's happened since then!


----------



## Ancalagon

thank you muchly 

Ancalagon


----------



## Ancalagon

Well, I just caught up, that was a pretty good read!  

Ok, back into the thick of things:  as an iddle speculation of rat-bastardness, could the inn be some kind of illusion of what the party desires?  a place where the people are friendly yet self-sufficient?  

Probably not, but the "this is too good to be true" notion is in my head...

Ancalagon


----------



## Knightfall

Wow. I've just finished reading through this ENTIRE story hour from beginning to end (using the PDF versions and then going on to the thread).

Let me say it again. Wow.

I especially like the part about Horny referring to the circle of portals as the 'orcish' hub. Hmm, does that mean there are 'other' hubs.

There must be something in the water in Boston. First, P'Cat's Story Hour then this one. Yep, something in the water.

Cheers!

Knightfall1972

p.s. If people have been wondering why I haven't been updating my own EN World threads, this is the reason. Plus, Defenders of Daybreak and the Jester's story hour threads.


----------



## el-remmen

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> Wow. I've just finished reading through this ENTIRE story hour from beginning to end (using the PDF versions and then going on to the thread).
> 
> Let me say it again. Wow.
> 
> There must be something in the water in Boston. First, P'Cat's Story Hour then this one. Yep, something in the water.




Sagiro's story hour was totally my inspiration for starting my own.  It is definitely my favorite on the boards. .


----------



## Spatzimaus

(stealth bump!)



			
				Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> There must be something in the water in Boston. First, P'Cat's Story Hour then this one. Yep, something in the water.




Well, to be fair, when you stick the same group of people in different configurations, you shouldn't expect the quality to change drastically; good players are good players.  The difference is, you've got two DMs who have different, but equally valid, concepts of proper ratbastardliness.  That's why they're both so much fun to read...


----------



## Piratecat

Sagiro is in California right now, attending a wedding instead of updating his story hour like he darn well ought to be. (pot, kettle)  He's been playing some City of Heroes recently, which might have eaten into his time.

We definitely have some cross-pollenization between our campaigns. I recently tweaked him by linking something in my game to what's happening in his, and we often have odd synchronization of sneaky ideas. He continually outwits me, though, and I have trouble guessing his evil plots. That's one of the reasons his game is so much fun.


----------



## Nail

Piratecat said:
			
		

> .... He continually outwits me, though....



I'm sure, quite sure, you don't return that favor....


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Piratecat said:
			
		

> We definitely have some cross-pollenization between our campaigns.




I've noted several mentions of Flowstone in each game...  Has the story behind that ever come out?


----------



## Jackylhunter

Great question!  I just read the DoD - the Early Years, and saw the reference to Flowstone there.  Still not sure what it is.


----------



## Waylander the Slayer

I was just browsing through the website for the story hour and realized that the maps link does not work/ has nothing in it. I am trying to get an understanding of the geography of Kivia and the route the party took/where several locations are in relation to each other.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

IIRC, there were some in-between comments about it being a leftover from a far-flung past war or somesuch.  In one case, where buildings are no longer made of stone in one city due to spells transforming all the stone buildings to slag, and then it re-hardening.  

Now maybe I am cross Story Hour boundaries.  Oops, found this on the Charagan website.  I was thinking of Floam, which is probably different stuff.


			
				Charagan Website said:
			
		

> Floam - a strange, soft rock, which is the result of a massive Rock-to-Mud spell cast during the century of war between Naloric Skewn and the Spire.  The spell only lasted a second, and when the rock re-hardened, it did so as "floam."  There are large amounts of it in the ruins of Verdshane.




GW


----------



## Sagiro

I've finally dragged myself away from City of Heroes long enough to write an update.  Nemmerle, you can get off my back now!  

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 211*_
*The Way Things Work*


Mercury returns a few minutes later with a pair of companions.  One is a tall, dark-haired human woman in a flowing dress.  She has a book tucked under her arm, and a haughty, slightly-displeased expression.  The other is a stout gnome, reminiscent of the Yuja, though taller and stockier.  He has a red face, blackened hands, and rolled-up sleeves.

“Hello, hello!” says the gnome jovially.

“You look like a Yuja!” says Dranko.

“Like a what, now?”

“A people we met back home.  Very friendly!” says Ernie.

“Well, my names Aristus.  Aristus Fuller.  Mind if I sit?”

There are introductions all around. 

“Why are your hands all smudgy?” Kibi asks Aristus.

“Workin!” answers the gnome.

“What do you do?”

“Secret project!”  Aristus leans over the table and whispers conspiratorially, “Maybe I’ll let you see it later on, if I’m feeling charitable.”

The woman looks pained, clears her throat, and says, “So.  Mercury tells me you may… know something.”

Dranko grins.  “Well, yeah.  First, a man loves a woman very much.  Then he…”

Ernie reaches over and cuffs Dranko on the head.

“My name’s Aravis,” the wizard cuts in.  “And you are…?”

“Gloriana de Marlough.”

Niceties are again exchanged, and when Gloriana asks where they come from, the Company uses this as an excuse to finally get a closer look at the huge map tacked to the wall.  Together they go over to show their hosts the Slices through which they have come.   And while eventually they get around to actually doing so, their first reaction is a burst of excitement and speculation about what they see.

Map of the Slices
*>> this version of the map already has the bits that the Company added on themselves.  The original had no mention of Green Valley, the Monster Cave, the "Plain Plain of Planes," the Bedroom, or the Negative Material Plane.*


“Demon Slices.  Huh.”

“Chaos?  Ewww.”

“Dead ways must be those gray ones.”

“Fire gnomes?  What are fire gnomes?”

“Hey look, the “Orcish Hub.”  We know that one.”

“City of sausages?”

“No, it says “savages!”

After a few minutes of this, and some comparisons with the Company’s map, Dranko asks, “Why is the storm forbidden?”

Gloriana answers, “We had to make such an agreement, in order to convince them to let us pass unharmed.  They are inscrutable, and they value their solitude.”

“They?” Grey Wolf gulps.

“So the agreement is, you leave them alone, and they leave you alone?” asks Kibi.

“In part,” says Gloriana.  “They have also agreed that if anything looks like an invading army, particularly of orcs, that they will… deal with them.  I’m glad they let you through.”

That sobers everyone up for a minute.

“The storm told us we weren’t abiding by the agreement, just by being there,” says Morningstar.  “And we may have stirred up the orcs.”

If Kibi entertains happy visions of hundreds of orcs getting struck by lightning bolts, he doesn’t share them with the others.   Aravis looks from the map to his friends and grimaces. 

“I have a feeling we may have to go through the Way of No Return,” he says.

“I don’t suggest it!” says Gloriana.

“We’re being rude,” says Morningstar.   “We said we tell you our own story, and we haven’t.”

Gloriana, Aristus and Mercury look at her expectantly, but it’s Ernie who speaks.

“There were three threats to our world.  We stopped two of them.  The third one destroyed…everything.  It wasn’t destroyed by armies, or monsters.   Our enemies just… changed time.”

Aravis says, “Before our enemies changed the past, we traveled to a far-away land, where we learned about this place.  Het Branoi.”

“You learned about the Slices?” says Gloriana.

“No,” says Ernie.  “Not exactly.  We learned it was just a tower, where mages pursued knowledge beyond the bounds of reason and sanity.”

“It was knowledge so dangerous, other people in their own order tried to kill them before they could succeed,” says Dranko.

“And this order was _really, really_ evil,” says Ernie.

“But this place… Het Branoi… was so well hidden that the others is their order couldn’t find it,” says Aravis.

“I see,” says Gloriana.  “So you discovered the tower Het Branoi.  And went in.  And found yourself here, in the Slices.”

“Yes,” says Ernie.  “In a place called Green Valley.”

Dranko has been adding the Company’s cartographic knowledge to the wall map.  He points to where he’s added Green Valley.

“A very powerful magical item told us we needed to come here, to find one of its brethren,” explains Aravis.  “If we find it, we can use it to fix time.”

“And doing so might also break up this place,” says Morningstar.

None of their hosts even blink at the notion of a magical artifact speaking, or having ‘brethren.’

Mercury says, “So this object you are seeking could simply be in one of the Slices, and that’s why you were sent here?  Do you have any proof or suspicions that your item is connected to _all_ the Slices, and what is happening here on a larger scale?”

“These items are powerful controllers of space and time,” says Ernie, nodding.  “It’s quite possible that they’re using it – the Eye of Moirel – to power all of this.”

“So your quest could strike at the very heart of this whole phenomenon,” says Mercury.  “ Hm.  It was our conjecture that this was all some ‘natural’ phenomenon that could not be solved or fought, but would have to waited out.”

Morningstar shows them the letter found in the Black Circle boudoir, and talks about what she learned from her _thought captures_.  All of that leads them to believe the Slices are an artificial construct made by the Black Circle for some nefarious end.    Their hosts listen intently to the story.  When she finishes, Gloriana frowns at her.

“Are you a mind-reader?” she asks.

Morningstar nods.

“We don’t have many rules here,” says Gloriana, “but this is an important one.  People have come here from many worlds, and have many stories.  Some wish to share them, and others do not.  None of our guests is asked to admit things they wish to keep secret, and there is absolutely no reading of minds allowed here, nor any sensing of thoughts or emotions.  The three of us reserve certain… rights of security… but we will not abuse them.”

“Though if you think doing so will help with your investigation into the nature of the Slices, do come and talk to us,” says Mercury.  “All things are open to negotiation.”

Gloriana glowers at the centaur before adding, “The other rule is, we expect polite behavior, and that our guests not cause a fuss.  This place is a sanctuary for a wide net of worlds.  The penalty for violating the rules – assuming we don’t need to kill you to stop you from doing whatever it is you’re doing – is summary eviction through the Gate of No Return.  We don’t know where it goes.  We simply know you won’t be coming back.”

“Right.  Clear enough,” says Dranko.

“You mean, people go through to different places?” asks Ernie.

“That is a matter of some conjecture,” says Gloriana.  “It may lead to one specific place like the others, but be one-way.  Or it may lead to someplace so perilous that those who go through are instantly killed.  But most believe that it simply goes to a new Slice each time it is traversed, because that is now it behaves from the other side.  You see, we’ve had many people come from _through_ the Gate of No Return since we founded the Inn, and they’ve all come from _different_ Slices.  Not particularly dangerous Slices, either.  But we’ve had several travelers go out of that Way over the years, promising that they would come back through if they could.  No one ever has.”

“What happens if you throw a rope through?” asks Dranko.

“The rope can be dragged back, if someone on our side is holding on to it.   But it’s always been just the rope.”

“I strongly advise against it,” says Aristus.  “Unless you have some specific reason to think it’s the right way to go.”

“Have you ever tried to divine what’s on the other side?” Dranko asks.

“Divinations don’t pass between slices,” says Gloriana.  

After a brief silence, Aristus turns to Kibi and asks, “What’s your name, master dwarf?”

“Kibilhathur Bimson.”

Aristus furrows his brow, as if trying to remember something.

“Have you heard my name before?” asks Kibi.

“Rings a bell,” says the gnome.

“Kibi is famous?” says Grey Wolf.  “That’s a little frightening.”

“Ah, could be someone else,” admits Aristus.  “Dwarven names tend to sound the same to me.”

“So you’ve seen dwarves before?” asks Kibi.

“We’ve seen a few.  They’ve come and gone from the inn.  They’re among the more restless types, I’ve found; they’ve all gone out again.  Two of them went with one of the largest groups to head out together.  Fifteen or so in that bunch, and pretty tough characters.  Most of them were adventuring types like yourselves.   They headed out into the Demon Slices, sayin’ they were gonna find out what was going on.”

“Didn’t return, huh?” guesses Dranko.

“Nope.  Not a one.”

“Say, what’s ‘Monk’s Rest,” asks Dranko, looking at the map again.

“We’re not entirely certain,” says Gloriana.  “We think that there’s a monastery out there.  Aristus, do you remember who wrote that in?”

“There was a traveler from some time back who mentioned the monastery, I think.”

“Are any of you familiar with planar travel?” asks Gloriana.  When Aravis nods, she continues, “Then you’ll have heard of Limbo.  We think that the Chaos is really a Slice or Slices of the outer plane of Limbo.”

“Oh, yes, I know all about that,” says Aristus.

“You don’t _know_ about it,” says Gloriana.  “You’ve just _read_ about it.”

“Well, the people who wrote about it, _they_ knew about it, didn’t they?” says Aristus testily.  “It’s practically the same thing.  If you stopped spending all of your time learning spells and casting theory, you might learn something interesting!

Gloriana sniffs and looks bored.

“Speaking of spells,” says Kibi to Gloriana, “We have a number of spellbooks, and it looks like you probably do as well.  Maybe we could swap some…”

“No,” says Gloriana curtly.  When Kibi looks abashed, she continues, “I’m sorry, but I was… I _am_ a member of an arcane order with strict rules about such things.”

Mercury shakes his head.  “You should talk with Chiswick,” he suggests.  “He’s a little…”  (he taps his head) “… far gone, but he’s a brilliant wizard.  He stays up in his room most of the time.  I know that before he arrived here he came by some store of inks and components, and he’s been known to trade or sell them, if you can talk a straight word out of him.  The Slice he came from has long since been destroyed.”

“Destroyed?” echoes Grey Wolf, frowning.

“Ah yes, another rule, which I thought you already knew,” says Gloriana.  “Do not attempt to wall off any Way, for any reason.  _Any_.  Reason.”

“What happens if you do?” asks Kibi.

“It attracts the Cleaners.”

“What are those?” Aravis asks, intrigued.

Mercury takes a deep breath. 

“Like so many things here, the Cleaners are speculative.  We were lucky, really.   When we learned this lesson, it was in a world two Slices out from here.  Years ago we were accosted by a sort of elemental creature with electrical properties.   It couldn’t have been a true elemental creature, or it couldn’t have crossed the Ways – perhaps you’ve noticed that there’s a certain magical nature that cannot cross between one Slice and another.   But these things managed to come through; we fought them off, and some of us pursued them back to their own world.  We slew some more, but because they were so numerous…well, there was an intermediate slice, and we thought we’d just wall that off.  Our spellcasters did their jobs, and sealed it away.  Every few days we went to check on it, and all seemed well.”

The centaur pauses in his narrative and thinks for a minute before continuing.

“Have any of you, out of curiosity, gone through one of the Gray Ways?  There is… Gloriana tells me that there are many places that border on the prime planes, like the Astral and the Ethereal.  The Slices are bounded in a similar way, but not by those more familiar planes.  They are bounded by something… stranger.  And in that realm live… things.  And these things are attracted by a Way that us not… breathing.  By a closed Way.  These things devour  Slices and everything in them.  When the Slice is gone, all of the Ways into it go dead, gray.  I pray that none of us ever see them.   Aristus did, once.  He won’t talk about it, so don’t ask him.”

Aristus shudders.

“Wouldn’t that be a good way of getting rid of the Demon Slices?” asks Dranko.  “Just go in, seal something off, and run for it!”

“If we knew more, we might try it,” says Mercury.  “But it’s possible they wouldn’t stop with just the Slice that was walled off.  It’s not worth the risk.  Better not to attract the attention of the Cleaners in the first place.” 

Dranko gulps, thinking suddenly of the bone snake that temporarily walled off the bedroom.  What if…

“Now we know why the orcs were so emphatic,” says Aravis.

“No more _Walls of Force_!” says Flicker, poking Kibi in the ribs.

A tall, muscular woman approaches the table.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asks, looking over the Company (particularly the men) with a mischievous expression.

“No, thank you,” says Ernie.  “But it’s all delicious!”

“Anything else?  At all?” asks the woman.

“No, really,” says Dranko, grinning at her.  “Who are you?”

“My name’s Delilah…” she answers.  She starts to lean toward Dranko, promising some flirtatious repartee and maybe a better view of cleavage, but is distracted by Aravis sitting next to him.

“Ooooh!  That’s fascinating!  I’ll bet woman never tire of staring into those star-fields, do they?”

“I don’t know,” says Aravis, straight-faced.  “I’ve never had anyone…”

Dranko guffaws.

“…doing that,” Aravis finishes.

“Well, I’m at your disposal,” she says, and with a wink she heads back to the kitchen.

Dranko glares at Aravis.  “She was looking at ME until you opened your eyes!”

“Dranko!” says Kibi, shocked.  “You’re engaged!”

“Oh!” says Aravis, even more shocked.  “You mean she was looking at you in that way?  Oh…  oh!”

“You should be careful with her,” warns Aristus, smiling.  “She’s dangerous.”

“Why is she dangerous?” asks Dranko, intrigued.

“Because she can kick your ass, is why!  But don’t take her too seriously.  She enjoys that… sort of thing.”

Never one to pick up on the subtleties, Kibi asks,  “She enjoys kicking people’s asses?” 

Forgetting for the moment the offer of real rooms, Ernie instinctively asks Mercury if there’s a place on the grounds they can set up tents.

“Don’t you want rooms?” replies the centaur.

“Ernie usually sets up two of them, but you’ll have to excuse him,” says Dranko.  And then, before anyone can stop him, he adds:  “He’s two tents.”

“Ah, a funny one, aren’t you,” says Gloriana drily.

“Well, he likes to think so,” says Kibi.

“Are you a bard, sir?” Gloriana asks Dranko.

“Oh, yes,” says Kibi, before Dranko can answer.  “He’s barred from lots of places!”

Everyone but Dranko roars with laughter.  Now _that’s_ funny!

…to be continued…


----------



## Thornir Alekeg

Welcome back!  Another great update, thanks.

So, anyone out there know how to take down the City of Heroes servers so we can get more updates written?


----------



## el-remmen

_Finally. . . _ 

Two more and I'll stop buggin' ya. . .

Oh, and thanks!

Not to complain, but the map is illegible!


----------



## Thornir Alekeg

nemmerle said:
			
		

> Not to complain, but the map is illegible!




I had no problem at all reading it.  A couple of spots are a little faint, but it is all readable when I open it.


----------



## el-remmen

Thornir Alekeg said:
			
		

> I had no problem at all reading it.  A couple of spots are a little faint, but it is all readable when I open it.




Doh!  I did not realize I could zoom in. . . I can read it fine now. . .


----------



## Vargo

Thornir Alekeg said:
			
		

> So, anyone out there know how to take down the City of Heroes servers so we can get more updates written?




Well, I could write a worm that would hijack millions of computers using well-known unpatched Windows security flaws, turn it into a massive bot-farm, then mount a massive DDOS attack against their servers - but I don't think that would go over too well with the law enforcement.



Welcome back, Sagiro!  (Which reminds me, I need to pick up Thief: Deadly Shadows...)


----------



## Vurt

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “Ah yes, another rule, which I thought you already knew,” says Gloriana. “Do not attempt to wall off any Way, for any reason. _Any_. Reason.”
> 
> “What happens if you do?” asks Kibi.
> 
> “It attracts the Cleaners.”



Bwahahaha!  Garbage collection?

Cheers,
Vurt


----------



## dravot

Vurt said:
			
		

> Bwahahaha!  Garbage collection?
> 
> Cheers,
> Vurt



 My first thought was 'The Langoliers' by Stephen King


----------



## RangerWickett

Very glad to read the update, Sagiro, thank you.  Might I suggest that, if the next hiatus is as long as this one was, that you preface the next section with a bit of recap.

_Previously, on Dranko's Angels. . . ._


----------



## el-remmen

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> Very glad to read the update, Sagiro, thank you.  Might I suggest that, if the next hiatus is as long as this one was, that you preface the next section with a bit of recap.
> 
> _Previously, on Dranko's Angels. . . ._




Dude, it is hard enough to get him to write the new stuff, now you want him to re-write the old stuff, too?

Just skim the last couple of installments, that's what I do. . .


----------



## RangerWickett

I just meant something like, "Stranded from their own timeline, in a fractured planar landscape, the party has traveled through several dimensions, finally finding a safe haven at an inn where people are nice."  I know, I know, I'm just lazy.


----------



## Caliber

dravot said:
			
		

> My first thought was 'The Langoliers' by Stephen King




Me too. I've never read the book, but I've seen the movie. Giant evil pac-men with rotating-circular-saw-teeth. Nasty things.


----------



## ConnorSB

Vurt said:
			
		

> Bwahahaha!  Garbage collection?
> 
> Cheers,
> Vurt




I was thinking Victor the Cleaner from La Femme Nikita.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 212*_
*a startling resemblance*

When the laughter has died down a bit, Dranko looks around and gestures toward the Slice map.

 “It would good if we could get the Green Valley people here,” he muses.

 “You’d just have to get them past the Storms…” begins Morningstar.

 “…And the Orcish Hub,” adds Ernie.

 “And the desert,” finishes Grey Wolf.

“Maybe Green Valley connects up through a Way we never found, and they could get here some other way,” says Ernie.  He also points to the map, and they all consider it for a minute or two.

Gloriana clears her throat.  “From the deranged babbling of someone who once came through the Chaos, we think it’s possible that this area connects up to the Demonic Slices.  But we don’t know for certain.”

“I still think we’re destined for the Gate of No Return,” says Aravis, shaking his head.

Dranko perks up.  “Which would mean we could be total jerks here… since the punishment would just be to kick us where we were headed anyway!”

After a beat of silence, Flicker says, “Dranko, the jokes are funnier when they’re at your expense.”

“We should stay here long enough to find out if anyone has seen an Eye of Moirel,” says Morningstar, studiously ignoring her betrothed.

“Do you know if it’s possible to _teleport_ across Slices?” Kibi asks.

“It’s not,” says Mercury.  “Most magics of all kinds don’t work across the Ways.  Certainly transportations and divinations don’t.  The only exception I can think of is _summoning_ spells.  But Gloriana thinks those will only get you a creature that’s in another Slice.”

The talk turns to ways in which the Company can provide magical support to the Eye of the Storm.  Ernie explains about the _iron heart_ spell, and Dranko offers to make some magical weapons and armor.  Part way through this discussion, as Dranko is taking the opportunity to extol the virtues of Delioch, Gloriana rises suddenly and excuses herself.   The Company looks after her, puzzled.  Mercury looks down at the table and frowns.

“I apologize for her attitude,” he says, his voice somber.  “The three of us were actually five when we arrived.  We fought our way through the Demon Slices to get here ourselves, from a small Slice of our home world.  It opened directly into a very Slice of the Abyss.  Gloriana’s husband was a priest, of the God Oronthon.  Where we come from there is only one God, and Oronthon is that one.   The fifth of our number was named Fortilon, a mighty warrior.  Only Aristus saw him die.  He was taken by the Cleaners.”

Aristus shudders again.

 “What do the Cleaners look like?” asks Dranko, oblivious to the gnome’s discomfort.

Mercury pauses, glances at his friend, then turns back to Dranko.

“I gather there are tentacles involved.”

“Riiiight,” says Dranko, thinking that’s all he really wants to know.

“Ugh!” adds Ernie.

“Gloriana was not always as… curt… as she is now, but I don’t hold it against her.”

The party understands.

While the Company doesn’t need healing, what with all the clerics, Mercury tells them that there is a powerful priestess currently at the Inn who has been serving as the medic.  Her name is Medina.

“Anyone here diseased?  Anything she can’t handle?” asks Dranko.

Mercury smiles.  “There is very little she can’t handle in that regard, but we’ll consider your healers on call in an emergency.  She doesn’t talk much about her experiences, but I believe that she came through the Chaos… though sane, unlike most others.”

A short, plump human woman comes bouncing out of the kitchen.  “So, where’s the new cook?” she asks, looking from party member to party member.  Ernie brightens and leaps to his feet.

“Ernie Roundhill, at your service!”

“My name’s Spinnizia.  Come on, come on, come on!”

She takes Ernie’s hand and pretty much drags him into the kitchen, though it’s not like he struggles.

“Whatcha got on?” asks the halfling, sniffing the air.  “Beef, potatoes, garlic…and sage… and…”

He screws up his face, thinking hard.

“One more, one more!” encourages Spinnizia.

“Chervil!” exclaims Ernie at last.

“Excellent!”  Spinnizia beams.  “I had one other cook who knew something, but he left with some others about a year ago.”

“I don’t know how long we’ll be staying, but I’d love to help however I can!”

Ernie’s like a pig in good-tasting slop.  The kitchen is beautiful and well-stocked.  He pokes his head out the door.  

“I’m staying!”

The kitchen is also filled with kids of various ages, chopping and stirring and running errands.  Only later does it occur to Ernie that has no idea how old any of them are, but that they’re all older than they look.

Since the moment the Company entered the Eye of the Storm, there’s been one fellow over in a corner of the commons who’s been watching them the whole time.  That doesn’t make him stand out much from the others, since as the “new guys” everyone’s been taking an interest in them.   The man is making no effort to hide the fact that he’s staring at the Company, and at Kibi in particular.  He’s dressed entirely in black.

“Who’s that?” Grey Wolf asks Mercury.

“Ah.  Omar.  He’s what we like to call around here a ‘mystery man.’  Sometimes people come here but don’t want to talk about who they are, what they’ve done, where they’ve come from.  But I tell you what, he’s a mean one with that rapier.  He helped fend off the last incursion from the Demon Slices, two years ago.  His skills are incredible.  He stays, he does his work, and he keeps to himself.  I’ve never had cause to complain.”

Kibi gets right to it.  He walks straight over to Omar’s table, and in a good-natured sort of way remarks, “Hello.  I noticed that you were staring at me.  How do you do?  I’m Kibilhathur Bimson.  I take it you’re Omar?”

In a strange and exotic accent, translated in the now-expected time-delayed fashion, Omar stands and bows.

“Yes.  It’s a pleasure.” 

Omar looks wiry and well-muscled, and even his smaller movements have a fluid grace to them.

“I hear you did very well defending the Inn against the Demons,” continues Kibi affably.

“Yes, thank you.  I do my best.  And where are you from?”

“Well, it’s a long story, but we came through the Storm gate, and before that we were…”

“Have you been to the Slices of Demons?”  Omar interrupts.

“No.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“Well, you think we’d have noticed.  We’ve fought some big monsters, but I don’t think they were demons.”

“So, you have not been to the Demon Slices, you say.”  Omar narrows his eyes a bit.

“Why, have you seen me there?” asks Kibi, chuckling.

“Yes and no.”

Thinking he’s talking about the multiple-versions-of-people theory that came up when Kay vanished, Kibi asks Omar if he’s seen her, and starts describing Kay.  Omar soon interrupts the dwarf again.

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

Kibi is a bit taken aback, but Omar’s voice still sounds friendly, and he's still smiling.

“You were talking for a long time with Mercury, and Gloriana, and Aristus.  They must be very curious about you,” Omar says, sitting back down.

“That’s because we came through the Storm Gate,” says Kibi.  “I understand not many people do.”

“You have plans to stay or go?  Do you know where you’re going to go?”

“No,” says Kibi truthfully.

“Ah.”

“You ask a lot of questions!”

“It’s because I am curious.  You, in particular, make me curious.”

“Why is that?” asks Kibi.

“I don’t trust you yet enough to tell you.  But there is definitely something about you that’s interesting.   Tell me a bit more then about yourself and then maybe I share with you, eh?”

“Well, I’m a Dwarf,” begins Kibi.

“Yes, yes, I see that, but…”

“And here’s my familiar!”

“Yes… the pile of rocks.”

“Scree’s not just a pile of rocks.  He’s my friend!”

Scree forms up loyally around Kibi’s feet.

“Ah, it’s good to have friends, yes?”

The others by this time have sauntered over to listen; Omar has noticed but seems unconcerned.

“Maybe you’d like to tell us why you think Kibi’s been to the Demon Slices,” says Dranko.

Omar looks the lot of them over.  “Mercury seems to trust you.  Aristus trusts you.  I share with you then.  First, I came from the Demon Slices.”

“From beyond them, you mean?” asks Dranko.

“Yes, of course.  I was not in one, when my world was removed and brought here, but to get here I fought my way through them.  I do not wish to discuss the details, but… I took some items from a demon.  They carry around things they have taken from others.   I have seen terrible things…”  

He trails off for a second, but then rummages around in his pouch for a moment.

“In the belongings of the demon, I found this.”

He reaches into his pouch and puts something into Kibi’s hand.  It is small but heavy, a stone statuette five inches high.  Kibi looks at it and his eyes widen, as do the eyes of the rest of the Company.

Kibi is looking at a perfect likeness, carved in stone, of himself.

Grey Wolf is the first to speak:  “Oh my god!"  This is soon followed by a few seconds of general babbling, during which Kibi just stares at the figurine.  He notes that as part of the statue, around the base, there’s a pile of rocks like Scree.

“How long have you had that, sir?” Dranko asks.

Having heard the excited babble, Ernie sticks his head out of the kitchen.  “What just happened?”

“I’ve just been given a statue of myself and Scree,” says Kibi.

“I found that about … two and a half years ago, I would guess,” says Omar, answering Dranko’s question.

“We’ve only been here about two weeks,” says Kibi.

“So tell me then,” says Omar slyly, “why would a demon be carrying around a figurine of you?”

“I sure would like to know that!” exclaims Kibi.  “Did you find any other statues, of me, or anyone else?”

Omar shakes his head.

Aravis speculates that perhaps this has to do with Kibi’s earlier summoning into another world, but Kibi claims not to have seen any demons there.  Morningstar points out that the Company _has_ been involved in an unusual number of prophecies, all things considered.

“Yes, but how would they know what I look like?” asks Kibi.

“Perhaps there is someone out there…”  Omar waves.   “…you should ask?” 

“Hey, Aristus!” shouts Kibi.  “Look what I was just given.  Do you know anything about me?  You said I looked familiar before…”

But it’s not ringing any more bells for the gnome, and though there’s lots of general speculation about Kibi’s statue, the conversation soon turns to other things.  Delilah brings by another tray of drinks and winks and Aravis, who blushes.

It turns out there about a hundred people around the Inn at the moment, most of who stay in rooms, but some of whom prefer to camp outside.  Despite the agreements Mercury, Aristus and Gloriana have with the Storms and the Formians, they prefer to keep good defenders around, particularly with the ever-present threat of demons.  Dranko asks why iron grilles aren’t put up to block some of the Ways.

“I wouldn’t want to find out the hard way that the Cleaners consider that an obstruction,” says Mercury.  “We err on the side of caution.   Also, we get many folk who are fleeing _from_ the Demon Slices.  I would not want to keep them out.”

Ernie goes back to the kitchen and while discussing local produce learns that the weather doesn’t change much.  There’s good farming, and frost only a couple of days out of the year.  The peaches are especially good this time of year.

Dranko and Morningstar go off to find Medina and talk with her.  The wizards head upstairs to find the wizard Chiswick.  Ernie stays in the kitchen, to the overwhelming joy of Spinnizia, who can’t stop talking about cooking now that she has someone to talk about it with.

Hours later, they’re happily making brandy-peach pies.

…to be continued…


----------



## Knightfall

Sagiro said:
			
		

> The talk turns to ways in which the Company can provide magical support to the Eye of the Storm.  Ernie explains about the _iron heart_ spell, and Dranko offers to make some magical weapons and armor.  Part way through this discussion, as Dranko is taking the opportunity to extol the virtues of Delioch, Gloriana rises suddenly and excuses herself.   The Company looks after her, puzzled.  Mercury looks down at the table and frowns.
> 
> “I apologize for her attitude,” he says, his voice somber.  “The three of us were actually five when we arrived.  We fought our way through the Demon Slices to get here ourselves, from a small Slice of our home world.  It opened directly into a very Slice of the Abyss.  Gloriana’s husband was a priest, of the God *Oronthon*.  Where we come from there is only one God, and *Oronthon* is that one.




Hey, I know that god!   

Got some cross pollinating of story hours here. Nice touch Sagiro!

Cheers!

KF72


----------



## Fimmtiu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> _*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 212*_
> Hours later, they’re happily making brandy-peach pies.
> 
> …to be continued…




Is that a euphemism?


----------



## el-remmen

_"Oronthon"_, huh?

Makes me wonder if you have used or plan to use bits from any other story hours. . . It'd be a nice easter egg hunt, and the current circumstances of the campaign can allow for that kind of thing w/o being cheesy.

Good work!


----------



## Ancalagon

ooh, 2 updates!

...

give us more!

MORE!!!!  

I can't help but noticed that this slice concept could make a neat campain setting

Ancalagon


----------



## Fade

Fimmtiu said:
			
		

> Is that a euphemism?




It's Ernie. Probably not.


----------



## Len

But I bet that not all of the brandy made it into the pies!


----------



## Jackylhunter

Woot!! an update and a Sep reference, all wrapped in one.  Great stuff Sagiro!!


----------



## Sagiro

*>> Warning!  This update is all talk and no action.  Furthermore, it’s not even plot-advancing talk.  It’s just some fun banter, with one or two interesting bits.  If you’re reading this Story Hour episode hoping for some juicy plot, you’ll have to wait for the next write-up.  Sorry!*


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 213*_
*Chiswick and Medina*

Aravis, Grey Wolf and Kibi stand in the hallway outside room number twenty-three.  Aravis knocks three times. 

“Eh?  What’s that?  Hello?  Hello?”

It’s the creaky voice of an old man.

“Chiswick?” calls Kibi.

“That’s me!  Yes, come in, come in!”

The three wizards enter a small, cluttered room.  Shelves on the walls are stacked with papers, bottles and quills.  The bed is rumpled and clothes spill out of a tiny closet.  A small man is sitting at a cramped desk, drawing.

“How do you do,” says Kibi, bowing as the man cranes his neck to look at them.  “We’re travelers just arrived here.  We’re mages.”

“Mazes?  What?”

“Mages!”

“Oh, mages!  Sorry!  It’s just that my mind was on…”

He holds up his drawing and shows it to them.  It’s a maze, a swirling complex design with a clearly marked ‘in’ and ‘out.’

“What do you think?” he asks, beaming.  “Keeps the brain sharp!”

Kibi gets right to the point, as usual.  

“We have some spells we’ve written down in our books in our travels, and we’d be interested in sharing or swapping.  And we hear you might have some components and ink for sale, which we’d like to buy.”

“Mmmm,” says Chiswick, thinking.  “I’ve got some of that.  Ink.  Hm.  Ink ink ink ink ink ink ink.  Hm.”  He starts poking around in some of the piles of clutter, doesn’t find any ink, reaches for a large trunk on the floor, then stops.  He looks at the three other wizards.

“So, how powerful are you?  And you, and you?”

They’re all a bit taken aback at the question.  Kibi answers first.

“Well, I can cast _teleport_,” says the dwarf.

“Ooooooh, fairly well along then,” smiles Chiswick, nodding.  “And you, and you?”

“I can’t _teleport_ yet, but I can cast _acid orb_,” says Grey Wolf.

“Do you know of a spell called _true seeing_,” asks Aravis.

Chiswick nods again, and answers, “Of course!  You cast that on your own, with those weird peepers?”

“No, I still need to cast it the normal way,” answers Aravis.

“Hm,” says Chiswick, starting intently at Aravis’s eyes.  “Quite a magic item you’ve got there… or else that’s one heck of an illusion.”

“It’s no illusion,” Aravis assures him.

“It’s kind of a maze in his head,” says Grey Wolf.

“A maze in your head!” exclaims Chiswick.  “Wonderful!  So, one eye’s the ‘in’ and one eye’s the ‘out?’”

“If only it were that easy,” Grey Wolf sighs.

“Mind if I look at it?” asks Chiswick.

Aravis nods cautiously, not sure what the old wizard means.  Chiswick steps over to his trunk, puts his hand on the lid, concentrates, and opens it up.   After some rummaging about inside he produces a shiny glass monocle and holds it up to his eye.  He peers at Aravis.

“Hmmmm.  Mmmmmm!  Hm!  Hmmmhmmmmm.  Ah!”

“What do you see?” asks Aravis, curious.

“Layers upon layers.  You’ve got an entire multiverse in there!  Probably dangerous to go visit.  Say, can you access the Slices with that thing?”

“No,” admits Aravis.  “I injured myself while using it to seal a rift between our world and another, and I haven’t been able to access it since.”

“Ah well.  That’s life.  What else can I do for you?”

“Can we give you money for inks or spells?” asks Grey Wolf.

“Money?  What would I possibly do with money?”

“Er… well, what of value _could_ we give you?” asks Aravis.

“Oh, you know,” says Chiswick.  “Knowledge.  Secrets.  Spells.  Information.  The usual stock-in-trade.  Your Maze, for instance.  You could tell me about that!  Let me get my pen!”

So Aravis does.  He shares with the old wizard everything he knows about the Crosser’s Maze and how it works, only holding back details about the previous Keepers who still live inside, wanting to preserve their privacy.  Chiswick wields a mean quill for such an old guy, and soon has filled up many sheets of parchment with notes.

“Where do you think I could get another one?” Chiswick asks abruptly.

“I think mine is the only one,” says Aravis.

Chiswick lets out a big sigh.  “Well, I’ll never have time to make my own.  Don’t have the proper materials here.  And the saddest part is, once this whole thing with the Slices is solved and I go back to my home plane, I’ll probably die of old age in about five years.”

“How old are you?” asks Grey Wolf.

“I’m ninety-one,” says Chiswick with a grin.  “This time-standing-still business happened just in time!”

He turns to Kibi.  “So, what do _you_ know?  Any spells?  Good books?  Scrolls?  Tomes?”

Kibi hands over his spellbooks for Chiswick to look through.

“Hm.  Mmmmm.  Hm.  You have a funny accent.  Your spellbook, I mean.  Your scripting lines.  Your notation.”

“It’s because I’m a dwarf,” says Kibi.

“Well, there’s nothing here I haven’t seen before except _coldfire_, and that’s of no particular use to me.  What about you?”

He swivels his head to look at Grey Wolf.

“It’s mostly the same as his,” Grey Wolf says, handing over his books.  “We share a lot.”

“Your book’s more normal,” says Chiswick, flipping through the pages.  “I like the way you write.  You write like a warrior.  I’ll bet you’re a swordsman.  It’s the notation.  The way you use terms.  Nothing new, though.”

He tosses Grey Wolf’s books back.  Aravis hands his own books over without even being asked.

“Hm.  Ah.”

Chiswick points to a page near the middle.

“I’ll bet this is where you got that Maze thing in your head.  Your whole way of writing changes, did you notice?”

“He’s very good,” mutters Aravis to the others.

“Still, nothing I haven’t seen before.  Such is life.  Got any other interesting items?  Magical gizmos?”

“I was just given this,” says Kibi, showing Chiswick the statuette of himself. 

“Looks like you,” says Chiswick.

“Yes, but I’d never seen it before!”

“It’s not magic.  Who gave it to you?”

“Omar.”

“Omar. Omar.  Sounds familiar.  Do I know him?”

“He’s a silent-type, downstairs,” says Aravis.

“I don’t bother much with the people downstairs, unless they come up and visit me.  But I like it here.”  Chiswick pats the big trunk..  Then, laughing, he adds, “Don’t you get any ideas!  You’d never get anything out of this trunk, even if you could open it.  Which you can’t.”

“Not to worry,” says Grey Wolf.  “We won’t try anything.  I mean, if you’re powerful enough to see what’s in his head…”

“I couldn’t see _everything,_ says Chiswick.  “I could only tell the _nature_ of what’s in his head.  I suspect that if I could really see in there, I’d go stark raving mad!  And let me tell you, if I went mad, I could kill a lot of people!”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s the most powerful spell you can cast?” Aravis asks Chswick.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Chiswick puts his hand on the trunk, thinks for a moment, then opens it and pulls out a slender volume.

“Now, if you open this, and your brain hurts a little bit, just close it,” he warns.

Aravis opens it.  His brain does hurt slightly, but he reads a bit just the same.  Like all wizards Aravis understands that most arcane magic exists at ten different valences, typically referred to as ‘levels.’  And he knows right now that he’s looking at a spell past 9th level, with no idea of what it does.  Divination, maybe?

“I see,” says Aravis, snapping the book closed.

“Really?  How much do you see?”

“Enough that now I doubt we’d have anything of interest to you, beyond what we’ve told you already.”

“You know what the real pisser is?” asks Chiswick.  He taps the title of the book with his finger.   “’Chiswick’s Master Divinatory.’  And you know what it tells me?  Squat, in this stupid place!”

He chucks the book back in the trunk and closes it.

“But when I get out of here… oh, the things I’m going to know!  Anyhow, I have some other books that might have things more to your liking. You’ve shown me yours, so I show you mine, as they say.”

“Anything you can tell me about this?” asks Grey Wolf, drawing Bostock and showing it to the old man.

“An intelligent sword!” exclaims Chiswick, after only a second’s glance.   “It has that look about it.”

“My friends all believe that it’s evil,’ says Grey Wolf.

Chiswick takes out his glass again, and looks through it for a minute at the glowing blue sword.

“I’d say about a 37% suppression breakdown.  Well, keep at it, keep at it.”

“What happens when it gets broken down completely?” asks Kibi.

“Whatever’s in there will come out!” says Chiswick happily.  

“It’s getting there,” says Grey Wolf.  “It started out whispering to me, but now it’s voice is louder.”

“What’s the breakdown vector?”

The three Company wizards stare blankly.

“What do you do to make it talk louder?” tries Chiswick.

“Oh, I hit things with it,” says Grey Wolf. “Evil things.  It wants to kill evil things.”

“Well, that’s promising.  Probably.”

“When whatever it is comes out, will it be good or evil?” asks Kibi.

“There’s no way to know until you let it out!”

Kibi abruptly changes the subject.  “Do you know anything about Wild Magic?”

“No, but I’ll bet you do,” answers Chiswick.  “Stands to reason.  You being a dwarf and all.”

Kibi’s not sure what that has to do with anything, but says, “Where I come from, there’s only one other wizard who’s a dwarf, and he’s an Archmage.”

Chiswick rolls his eyes and goes on a mini-tirade.

“Pah!  Please.  Archmage.  Useless title.  When someone tells you they’re an Archmage, what does that mean?  Nothing!  It means nothing!  You could call yourself one, right now, and compared to someone who doesn’t do magic…how would they know?  Bah!”

Kibi tries again.  “Er…since I’ve been here, I’ve felt a strange energy coursing through me, and sometimes it makes my spells stronger.  Do you know why that is?”

“Are you a wild mage?” asks Chiswick.

“I don’t know,” says Kibi.  “I don’t know much about wild magic either.”

“You say you feel your magic augmented here?  Fascinating!  You’re the first wizard I’ve talked to who’s said that, and you’re the only dwarven wizard I’ve seen.  And I’ve talked to plenty of wizards; they all come to see me, once they find out I’m here.  Hmmm… You feel it right now?  Yes?  Really?  I don’t feel anything, and I’m much more powerful than you, and I’ve mastered most magical disciples.  But not Wild Magic.  It’s dangerous!

“Wild Magic comes the earth, you know.  Most magic comes out of the air.  It permeates space around us, and we manipulate it, focus it.   But that’s residual.  That’s the run-off.  The source, it’s coming from down there.”  He points downward.  “From the worlds we’re on.    But wizards don’t tap into it directly.   They couldn’t control it.  That’s why they call it “wild magic.” Right?  The only people I’ve ever met who could control it were Dwarves!  Do you feel it in every Slice?

“Yes, though it’s weaker in some Slices and stronger in others.  It was weakest in the elemental plane of water.”

Kibi’s head is spinning from the explanation.  If he’s understanding correctly, Chiswick is saying that Earth Magic and Wild Magic are just two names for the same thing.  Which means the Eyes of Moirel…”

“Aaaah,” says Chiswick.  “Well, that tells me a bit about the nature of the Slices, then.    And that’s worth something.  Here.”

He tosses some spellbooks around to the wizards.  

“If you see something you like, let me know, and we’ll work something out.  You might not be able to glean things right away.  My accent’s eccentric.”

The first thought the Company wizards have when they look at Chiswick’s lower-level spellbooks is that they’ve been had, and that the books aren’t spellbooks at all.   The notation is crazy.  Grey Wolf and Kibi can’t make anything of it.   Aravis realizes that while they _are_ spells, it would take two weeks before he could even start copying them down.

“These are… very interesting,” he says.  “The problem is, you have a _very_ different way of writing magic.  It would take a long time for us to translate them.”

“You in a rush?  It’s not like you’re getting any older!  Heh heh heh heh.”

“Do you know about a place called the rotunda?” asks Kibi.

“Well, my family owned a mansion, back home, and it had a rotunda, full of little statues. The stupid part was, they were all porcelain.  Which was stupid because my father also loved parakeets, and they were always flying about and knocking over the statues, and making a mess everywhere.  It made my mother furious, but my father loved his parakeets, and refused to… uh…  well, I doubt that’s what you mean, is it?”


* *

According to Mercury, the cleric Medina has been at the Eye of the Storm for over six years, having long since decided to stay and be a healer and general spiritual presence at the inn.  She worships a Goddess of the Heavens called Celian.  Apparently she’s built a contraption for watching the stars, up on the roof.  At this time of night she’s likely up there now.

Morningstar walks up the stairs with Snokas in tow, while Dranko goes outside an scales the wall for practice.  He sees Medina across the roof, bent over a strange rectangular object.  There is man standing by her with a drawn sword.

“Knock knock!” Dranko calls, waving.  The man instinctively points his sword in the half-orc’s direction.

Dranko adds, “As it turns out, if you want actually want to attack someone who’s way over here, you need a missile weapon.  Hi! We’re here to speak to Medina, if you don’t mind.”

In a low, drawling voice, then man answers, “Then _why_ did you climb the _wall?_

“I’m out of practice,” explains Dranko, starting to walk over.

Morningstar has just emerged from a trap door onto the roof.  The man adjusts his position slightly so he can see both of the newcomers.  Medina doesn’t stir.

“Greetings,” says Morningstar, bowing.

“Ah, hello,” says the man.  “Nice of you to enter the civilized way.”

“This is Morningstar, Priestess of Ell, and I am Dranko, Priest of Delioch,” says Dranko formally, as he walks to Morningstar to take her hand.

“You are two of the new group, then,” says the man, relaxing.  “Mercury has spoken well of you, I hear.”

“We’re both healers,” says Dranko, “so we thought we’d introduce ourselves.”

“Medina is in meditation with the skies.  Can you wait another ten minutes?”

“Sure.  Who are you?” asks Dranko.

“My name is Fren.  I am Medina’s bodyguard.”

“This is Snokas, Morningstar’s bodyguard.”

Snokas nods and grunts.  For a moment everyone looks at Medina, still seemingly oblivious to the arrivals’ presence.  Up above them the clear sky is ablaze with stars.

“We came here from a world called Motan, and our kingdom is called Bilik.   We traveled through the Chaos to get here, though I remember nothing of that journey.  Medina brought me through in some kind of… slumber.”

“I’m glad you made it safely,” says Dranko.  “Do you like it here?”

“I like it _here_,” says Fren.  “We’ve been here for six years, since we ventured out of the house.  That was our whole slice.  Three quarters of our house.”

“Good thing you weren’t in the outhouse!” exclaims Dranko.

“We often wonder what people back home, our neighbors, think has happened.  Is there a great empty space where the Slice used to be?  A wall?   Or are the Slices merely copies, and back home everything is still the same?”

“And if it’s been copied, there are other copies of us running around,” says Dranko.

“Yes, I suppose so,” agrees Fren.  “But if my copy has my judgement, and Medina’s copy has her wisdom, then I’m sure they’re doing what’s right.”

“Not running up your bar bill then?  I’ll bet mine is!”

“How long were you in the house?” asks Morningstar.

“It was about three days, before we decided to venture out.”

“Is Medina a very powerful priestess in your world?”

Fren nods.

“Does she often look into little tubes sticking out of strange boxes?” asks Dranko, pointing at Medina.

“That ‘tube’ gives her an expanded look at the heavens!”

“Amazing,” says Morningstar.

“Looks like she’s looking at her feet,” comments Dranko.

“There are mirrors in the box,” explains Fren   “She sees closer.   She sees what’s beyond the stars, when she looks through that device.  Perhaps she will let you look, though you may not see what she sees.”

“What _is_ beyond the stars?” asks Dranko.  “I’ve heard the stars themselves are diamonds, glittering in the huge embroidered fabric of space.”

Fren shakes his head.  “No, no.  Each star is a sun, like our sun!”

“Get out!” exclaims Dranko.

“No, it’s true!  You’ve discovered different Planes of existence, yes?  We think each star is another Plane.  You see that red one?  That could be the Plane of fire!”

Abruptly Medina looks up from her telescope.  She’s human, very plain looking, and somewhere in her forties. 

“I’d be honored if you’d let me look through your thingamajig,” says Dranko by way of greeting.  

Morningstar clears her throat.  “Let’s try that again.  I am Morningstar, a priestess of the Goddess Ell.”

“I am Medina Starwatcher, priestess of Celian.”

“This is my fiancee…”

“I’m Dranko, priest of Delioch.  It’s an honor and a pleasure.”

“Is Delioch a country?” asks Medina.

“No, he’s the God of Healing.  The White Hand.  He salves the sick and heals the injured.”

“And Ell is a Goddess of Night and Darkness,” says Morningstar.

“Ah, then we have something in common!” says Medina brightly.

Medina shows them how to use the telescope and invites them to have a look.  “Perhaps you can see what’s beyond the stars,” she offers.

Dranko can see the stars up close, and faintly glowing clouds beyond them.  Perhaps that’s what she means?  It’s a spectacular sight, and Dranko can hardly tear himself away.

“Wow… wow,” he says.

“Beyond all of that is Celian, who spins the world around us.”

After Morningstar has also had a look, Medina folds up the telescope and sits down on the roof.

“So, you are newly arrived?  I’m sorry,” she says.

“Don’t be.  We came here on purpose,” says Morningstar.

“You subjected yourself to the Slices?  Why?”

Morningstar looks up at the stars as she talks.  “We’re here looking for a magical artifact that our world is in great need of.  And if we find it, it may also free those trapped in the Slices.”

Dranko adds, “The people who created this place, this interlocking network of worlds… they used a powerful magic to turn back time and rebuild reality the way they wanted to.  We came here because the source of magic that’s powering all this can also restore our world to its proper time-stream.   To reset the balance in favor of good, instead of evil.”

“Good for you,” says Medina, nodding.  

“We’ve heard that you came here through the Chaos,” says Morningstar.

“Not pleasant, I take it,” says Dranko.

“No, it wasn’t.  Have you ever been?”

“Nope,” answers Dranko.  “Been to the elemental plane of water, though!”

“Not dissimilar,” says Medina.  

“And we came to the Inn through the Storms,” says Morningstar.

“Hm.  It’s been a while since I looked at the map,” admits Medina.  Then: “Oh!  Aren’t the storms supposed to kill anyone who crosses their Slice?

“We’re special,” says Dranko.

“We talked fast and moved faster,” says Morningstar.

“I can tell you about the chaos, if you’re curious.  Not for the weak of mind.”

When Morningstar and Dranko look attentive, she continues.

“You’ve been to the plane of water, so you know something of how it works.  You know about subjective gravity?”

“Figured it out myself!” says Dranko.

“Well, Limbo is like that.  It has subjective gravity, and it was water.  It also has earth, and fire, and air, and electricity, and slime, and ooze, and lava… there’s nothing in creation it _doesn’t_ have.”

“Slime _and_ ooze, two different things?” says Dranko, smirking.  Morningstar elbows him.

“None of it sounds pleasant,” she says.  “How do you move through it?”

“Oh, bits of earth, bits of air,” says Medina.  “It takes extreme concentration.  You have to build yourself a way through, from one place to another.  You imagine what you need, and hope it coalesces around you.”

“It sounds like Ava Dormo!” says Morningstar.  She explains the Dreaming to Medina.

“What lives in the Chaos?  Anything?” asks Dranko.

Medina glowers as she answers.  “The Frog-men.  The Slaad.”

“Slaad’s a scarier name than Frog-men,” says Dranko.

“There is supposedly a monastery, somewhere in the Chaos, but I certainly didn’t see it.  I went through three portals on the way.  There is something strangely localized about the Chaos Slices, similar to what goes on with the Demonic Slices, from what I gather.  One area of Chaos led through a Way into another area of Chaos.  There may be nexuses formed where powerful outer planar forces are at work, but I’m only guessing. 

“For a long time in my life I was a famous scholar.  It’s one of the avenues we can take as we ascend through the priesthood of Celian.  So I know some of these things.  And it’s a good thing.  If I hadn’t known what to do, we both would have perished in Limbo.  But I did, so we didn’t.  We went through several Ways, fought off some of the… frog-men.

“The first thing you have to do when you arrive is make yourself some air, if you don’t find yourself in some already.  You want to be able to breathe.  You must remember the gravity, or else you can fall out of the air and into something worse.  I also find it easier to create some solid ground beneath my feet, with some air above it.  You can travel that way, like building a road in front of a cart.  As the cart travels, you continuously lay the cobblestones on which it will roll.  Because you’re no longer concentrating on what’s passed, the road will vanish behind you.  And you won’t always succeed.  You have to be prepared.  Bits of other elements will come hurtling through, however well you’re doing.  We were struck once by a fireball… not like the spell, mind, but more literally.  A mass of fire-stuff.  That was the worst of it.  I almost lost Fren, then.  I had to keep him… emptied… to prevent him from going mad.  He doesn’t quite have the mental wherewithal that I do.  He is… new.  He could not effectively fight the frog-men.  But I could.”

“What are the frog-men vulnerable to?” asks Morningstar. 

“I simply cast my spells quickly, furiously, and then fled.  They are creatures of Chaos, so I’d expect lawful magics to have greater effect.”

“We’re looking for an item that’s Chaos-magic-based.  Well, wild-magic, I guess.”

“Is there a difference?” asks Medina.

“I don’t know.”

“I suppose it’s possible your item is in the Chaos.   I understand that in the actual Plane of Limbo, there’s a bit at the center, around which everything else revolves.   A little piece of pure Chaos that constantly spawns the maelstrom around it.  Perhaps that piece is in one of the Chaos Slices?”

‘Isn’t Limbo infinite?  Then how can it have a center?” asks Dranko.

“It has center and goes out forever from there in all directions.  Thus, infinite.”

Dranko looks puzzled.

“Don’t’ think about it too hard,” says Medina, smiling.   Snokas almost cracks wise about Dranko being a bit dim, but wisely holds his tongue.

“We need Aravis for this,” mutters Dranko.  Then, changing the subject, he says, “We were going to offer our healing services around here, but I hear you’ve got that covered.”

“Well, I suppose so.  My healing prayers aren’t in much demand except when there have been invasions, and we haven’t had one of those for over two years.  Fortunately the Demons get weaker the farther away from their own Slices they go.”

“Are they actual Demons?  From Hell?” asks Dranko.

“Yes, though they are from the Abyss, not Hell.   Devils come from Hell.”

“Do demons have a particular look to them?” asks Morningstar.

“Their forms are many, and I don’t know them all.  But, you tend to know when you’ve seen one.  They’re unlike anything else.”

“Do you have any advice for us, for when we leave this place?” asks Dranko.

“That depends on what you’re going to do.”

“We may have to head out through the Gate of No Return,” says Dranko.

“Or we may need to go through the Demons,” says Morningstar.

“What?  Why?” asks Dranko, looking alarmed.  “There could be 8 bajillion demon slices full of 8 bajillion demons!”

“Yeah, but one of them had Kibi’s face in his pocket,” says Morningstar with a nervous laugh.

Dranko briefly explains Omar’s statuette to Medina, and then says, “To me that suggests they’re saying ‘If you see this dwarf, eat him whole!’”

“Or it suggests that one of the Demons knows something,” says Medina.

“Yeah, they know that they should eat him,” says Dranko, still not much liking the thought of going to the Demon Slices.

“Well, I don’t suggest you take the Way of No Return,” says Medina.

“We’ve heard that before,” says Dranko.

“Because we couldn’t come back here, right?” says Dranko.

“That’s one reason,” agrees Medina.  “But there are others.  The Eye of the Storm is a well-defended safe-haven, and it would be a pity to deny yourselves the option of falling back and regrouping here after you set out.  But more to the point, it’s entirely possible that the Way of No Return goes somewhere where people simply die, instantly.  There’s no way to know.  It _may_ go to various other Slices, or maybe it’s a one-way gate to an innocuous Slice.  No one quite understands the full extent of the network of Slices.  If it were finite, and you traveled long enough, you might eventually find your way back to something you recognize.  But that has not happened to anyone, to my knowledge.”

“We appreciate your advice,” says Dranko.

At Morningstar’s request, Medina agrees to let the Company use her equipment, including lab stuff for making potions.  Dranko, though, thinks of more about the telescope.  

“You know, you could look through windows with this thing.  From hundreds of feet away!”

Morningstar sighs.

“My telescope is for watching the heavens, not one’s neighbors,” says Medina, shaking her head.  Then, to Morningstar, she says,  “You’re engaged to him?  Hidden depths, no doubt.”

Dranko grins, showing his tusks.

“Am I a lucky man, or what?”

…to be continued…


----------



## rigur

Ahh, update. I really like this story, keep up the good work.

R.


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## el-remmen

Thank you, Sagiro.


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## Jackylhunter

Thanks for the update Sagiro.  I love these interludes, like the calm before the storm.

 Chiswick is a great NPC, the first Epic character the mages have ever met?


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## carpedavid

Is the reference to spell "valences" another Sepulchrave reference, or is it more common than that?


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## Jackylhunter

I believe Sepulchrave mentioned that he borrowed the term from a Jack Vance novel (haven't read any of his books personally) so maybe Sagiro borrowed the term as well.

regardless, it's a very cool in-character way to refer to a game mechanic...=)


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## KidCthulhu

Two hundred geek points to the person who can name the _other_ out of campaign deity, and where they're from.


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## carpedavid

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Two hundred geek points to the person who can name the _other_ out of campaign deity, and where they're from.



Celian, God of the Heavens, from PC's campaign. The only reference I could find is that it was his power that was invoked when TomTom activates his Ring of Shooting Stars in the battle against the necropede and the undead sniper.


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## Jackylhunter

Hmm, I was gonna say Mercury, Roman god of commerce.  Am I wrong?  Did I miss out on 200 geek points??  Dang...


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 214*_
*Center of Attention*


While Aravis and Grey Wolf continue to talk shop with Chiswick, Kibi wanders out of the room and into the hallway.   Even from the second floor, he can hear the chatter of dozens coming from the common room below.  A small kobold-like creature approaches him from the direction of the stairs, and walks past him smiling and nodding before vanishing around a corner.  

Something has been eating at Kibi since earlier in the day.  He’s not sure if it’s anything, really, but he can’t get the idea out of his head that the gnome Aristus had given him a funny look, when he thought he recognized Kibi’s name.  He tromps down the hallway and then down the stairs to the common room, but Aristus isn’t there.  It’s crowded with a menagerie of folk of all kinds.  He spots a particularly unusual fellow, nine feet tall with pale blue skin, sharing a drink with a table of humanoid types.  Horny is there, roaring at a joke from someone at the bar.  Mercury stands near the door chatting with an elven-looking woman.  

“Hey Horny!” calls Kibi. 

The minotaur breaks off his conversation and stomps over to him.  

“Yeah?  Kibilhathur?  Can I get you a drink?”

“I wouldn’t mind a drink,” answers the dwarf.  “An ale would be good.”

“Coming up!  Two ales!” he bellows at a passing serving man.  Soon the drinks arrive, and Horny polishes up his large mug in a single gulp.

“I was looking for Aristus,” says Kibi.

“He was just here,” says Horny, looking around.  “Looks like you missed him.  Hey Delilah!  What room is Aristus staying in?

“Twenty-seven, I think,” answers Delilah.  “But he’s not there.  He went down to the basement to work on that… thing.”

“There you go,” says Horny.  “So, are you… oop… hold on…  Hey!  Stop that!”

Horny breaks off his talk with Kibi and heads over to another table, where some patrons are starting to cause trouble.

Kibi heads to the basement door and goes down.  It’s a wide stairwell lit by magical lights, with a stout wooden door at the bottom.  He knocks at the door.  When no one answers, he knocks again, louder.

“Who is it?” comes a voice from beyond the door.

“Kibilhathur Bimson!”

“Oh, come in, come in.  And close the door behind you!”

Kibi emerges into a large brightly-lit workshop.   Tools and materials and blueprints are scattered everywhere.  A large stack of wood scraps leans against the near wall.   Several large barrels are in various states of being dismantled.   Coils of rope hang on the walls, and there are numerous bent iron bars.

From a side room he hears the voice of Aristus calling, heard over a cacophony of clangs, taps, and ratcheting sounds. 

“In here!” shouts the gnome.

Kibi peers into to the side room.  A strange contraption is raised up on a short wooden scaffold, and Aristus’ legs protrude from underneath it.  The contraption itself looks like an enormous barrel with metal insect-like legs sticking out the sides.  Whatever it is is obviously not finished; there are large gaps in the sides of the barrel, and bits of metal are everywhere.  There’s a bright light coming from beneath the barrel, which goes out as Kibi watches.  Aristus emerges a few seconds later with his face and hands smeared with something like grease.

“Is this a magic item?” asks Kibi, intrigued.

“It will be when I’m done,” says Aristus, smiling and wiping his brow with a dirty cloth.

The gnome looks at Kibi, then walks to the main workshop room and looks around.

“You by yourself?” he asks.  “Good.  Good good good.”

Kibi raises his eyebrows.  Aristus goes into another side room and comes back holding a large folded-up letter..

“I promised that I would only bring this up to you personally,” says Aristus, fixing Kibi with a keen stare.  “I don’t know what it means, but I _had_ heard your name before.  About four years ago, a woman arrived here from the Chaos.  Her name was Lollys, and she delivered this to me.  She gave me an instruction.  ‘Some day  you will meet a dwarf named Kibilhathur Bimson,’ she said.  ‘Give this to him, and no one else.  And do it in private.’

“Lollys was a sorceress, we think, and not a nice person.  I’m not sure I would trust her, or trust what she gave me.  Worse, about six months after she arrived we caught her trying to read minds in the Inn.  She was expelled through the Way of No Return.  But as I said, she gave me this to give to you.   She never said anything else about it, or about her experiences in Chaos, for that matter.”

Aristus hands Kibi the letter, brown paper folded over and wrapped in string.  There are some small dark stains – blood, maybe? – on the outside.

“Sorry to be so secretive about it,” says Aristus.  “But a promise is a promise, even to someone I don’t like.”

“I wonder if I should cast _identify_ on it before I open it,” muses Kibi.

“Good idea.”

Kibi turns the letter over in his hands.  It feels there’s some small object inside the paper.

“Hey, while you’re here, can you do me a favor?” asks Aritsus.

“Sure!”

“Ok.  I’m going to ask you some questions.  Just tell me the answers.”

The gnome slides himself back under the barrel-like contraption.    Kibi hears some strange clanking sounds, and then the right front “leg” of the machine starts to shake.

“Is the left front leg wiggling?” calls Aristus.

“Nope, just the right leg.”

“Really?  Strange.  Hm.  Hold on.”

Clank.  Tink tink.  “Ow!”

“Now both front legs are wiggling!” says Kibi.

“No, no!” says Aristus.  “That shouldn’t be happening.  Grab the left leg!  Stop it from wiggling!”

Kibi grabs the metal leg, and both legs stop moving.  Kibi hears some ratchet-like sounds coming from under the device.

“Cursed machine!” complains Aristus.   “I’ve been working on it for two years, and it still… ah, there.  Check the middle set of legs now.  They should both be wiggling a little bit.”

“Yeah, they are,” says Kibi.

“Good, good.  Ok.  Now, have they stopped?”

“Yup.”

“Well, at least something works.  This thing had better stop when you want it to stop!”

“What’s it going to do when you’re all done?” asks Kibi.

“Oh, what _won’t_ it do?  A transport anywhere, for use in any environment, safely.  A fighting machine in a pinch.  And you’ll be able to survive in it for days, if necessary.  Look inside, near the top.”

Kibi sticks his head into the barrel’s interior, and sees a large bladder stuck near the ceiling of the barrel’s interior.  There’s a tube sticking it out of it.

“You could fill that with beer!” says Kibi, understanding.

“I was thinking water, but yeah, beer would do.”

“What did this Lollys person look like?” asks Kibi, looking down again at the letter.

“Short.  Short-cropped blonde hair.  Often wore green robes, I recall.”

Suddenly the whole barrel starts to shudder.  A metal panel becomes dislodged from the side and clatters to the floor.

“Damn it!” cries Aristus.  He slides himself out from beneath the machine and stands up.

“When it’s done, I’m going to call it the “Apparatus of Aristus.”

* *

Kibi tucks the letter inside his shirt and goes back upstairs.  Ernie and Spinnizia are lounging by the fireplace closest to the kitchen.  

“Thank you Yondalla,” murmurs Ernie to himself.  “It’s really not so bad here.”

“I hope you can stay,” says Spinnizia, sipping from a wineglass.

“I don’t think I can,” says Ernie, his grin fading.  “Back on my world, my parents don’t even exist anymore, and that stinks!  We’ve got to fix things.  But we’ll stay as long as we can.  And if we’re successful, maybe we’ll come back and visit someday.”

Eventually Morningstar goes back to her room, after hours of shop-talk with Medina.  There are plenty of rooms, enough that each member of the Company gets their own.   (The Inn has had as many as two hundred people staying there at once, though there are only about half that number now.)  Kibi goes around and knocks on doors, getting everyone to meet him in his own room.  Soon they are all crowded in, sitting on the bed and the floor.

“I was just given something," he announces.  “It was given to Aristus, to give to a dwarf named “Kibilhathur Bimson,” by a human woman who came from the chaos, and who wasn’t very nice, and got kicked through the Gate of No Return because she was going around reading minds.”

That takes a moment to digest, but Ernie’s first words are:  “Black Circle.”

“She was wearing green robes, according to Aristus.  Anyway, here’s the package. I do kind of want to know what’s in it.”

Grey Wolf casts _detect magic_, and yes, something inside the package is magical.   He then hands it to Flicker who checks it for traps and finds none.   They wait fifteen minutes while Ernie prepares an _augury_, but when he asks about the outcome of opening the letter, he gets no response.

Kibi uses _mage hand_ to open the wrapping.  A folded up piece of paper falls out of the package, and a small metal disk falls out of the paper.  It’s the disk that’s magic – moderate enchantment and transmutation.   It’s made of a dark metal, with three wavy lines engraved upon it.   No one recognizes the design.  The paper is not magical, though the writing is in a strange language.  Kibi casts _comprehend languages_ and reads the letter silently to himself, while the others look on anxiously.  When he’s done, he picks up the disk and stares at it for a moment.  One Certain Step detects no evil coming from it.

“It’s a stabilizer,” Kibi says, and then he reads the letter aloud to the others.

*Kibilhathur Bimson, 

You are trapped like the rest of us, but you are the key that will unlock our prison.  In our meditations and prayers we have determined the way in which you can be our salvation.  Come through the Chaos to our monastery and we will teach you what you must do.  Beware the journey, which is perilous.  Our chaos is not your chaos.  Its nature and its denizens will try to consume you just as anyone else, particularly the Slaadi.  Avoid them or flee from them if possible.  Should you come to harm, it may be that our captor will enslave all of creation in this anathema. 

With this letter is a Stabilizer.  It will help you navigate Chaos, as you concentrate on the air and earth you will need to travel.  

Please come quickly, so we might undo what has been done to us.

Gaz Mur
Abbott of Monk’s Rest*

After a few seconds of silence, Flicker is the first to speak.

“Far be it for me to say,” says Flicker, _”but could that scream ‘TRAP’ any more?”_

“We have a plan for that,” Ernie points out.  “Spring the trap and fight our way out,”


* *

The next day the Company makes some long term plans.  Their intent is to stay at the Eye of the Storm for three months or so, during which time they will train, scribe some spells, and craft a large number of magic items.  They work out a schedule with Mercury to earn their keep – mostly taking shifts guarding some of the Ways into the Slice, but also in training others in fighting techniques and making some magic items for the defense of the Inn.  Ernie will be spending much of his time in the kitchen with Spinnizia, and Kibi likewise alongside Gnard, a barrel-chested man in charge of the distillery.

The Eye of the Storm and its environs are like a big commune, with people coming and going at a slow but steady rate.   A week after they arrive, a group of nine humanoids (humans and half-elves, mostly) is escorted in from the Formian territory.  Two weeks later, a dozen young would-be adventurers gather in the common room, ready to head out into the Demon Slices.  It seems that they had all come from the same Slice, and had left behind a number of their people to explore.  They had made their way through the Demon Slices already, and had found the Inn a couple of months before the Company had shown up.

Dranko notices them conferring around a few pushed-together tables and walks over to listen.  Eventually he finds an opening to ask about the Demon Slices, but the explanation offered is poor.  

“Well, um,” says a young man who looks to be the leader, “It’s pretty bad.  There are rivers full of foul stuff, and, and demons, of course.  And the Slices all differ.  Inhospitable, but different.”

“Rivers of foul stuff?” says Dranko.  “What does that mean?”

“Er, you know,” says the kid.  “Hot blood in one, acid we think in another.”

“There was one river with molten salt,’ chimes in one of the others.

“Was the blood river in the place with all the wind?” asks a third.

“No, the windy place was the one with the craters.”

“Are you sure?”

Soon the bunch of them is arguing.  One of them pulls out an untidy map and slaps it on the table, but it doesn’t quell any of the arguments.  A lad who looks about sixteen, sitting closest to Dranko, leans over and whispers to the half-orc.

“Our map’s not so good, ‘cause there’s a bunch of clusters of Ways, sometimes five or six in one place.  We ran through a bunch of ‘em while Demons were chasing us – little Demons with long rubbery arms – and no one can agree on what the map looks like.”

Dranko gathers from the others that Demon Slices aren’t exactly teeming with Demons, but that there are occasional roving packs of them.   If you’re smart and keep a good look out, you can hide from them most of the time.  The one who was whispering to Dranko confides that, in his opinion, they were crazy lucky to have reached the Eye of the Storm without being killed, and that if they try to find their way back to their home Slice, they’ll never survive.  Dranko gives the lad an encouraging smile before returning to the Company’s table and muttering in a low voice, “they’re doomed.”


* *

Chiswick turns out to be a wonderful source of magical supplies.   His trunk is seemingly full of useful items, and appears to have different stuff in it each time.  When Dranko casually asks about it, Chiswick assures him that he couldn’t open it.  

“And you might get hurt if you try.”

The Company also, eventually, convinces Chiswick to accept money as payment.  Dranko finds himself up in the old wizard’s room one night, seeking alchemical supplies required for augmenting the magic of his whip.  Dranko hands over some small gems as payment, which Chiswick grudgingly accepts.

“Someday we might escape from this, and before I die, I guess I could find something to spend it on,” says the wizard.

“You’re welcome to come adventuring with us when we try to solve it,” says Dranko.

“Ah, my adventuring days are long over,” says Chiswick with a sigh.  “I just like to read, think, scribble.  I’m too old, too tired, too… much.  No more adventuring for me.”

Dranko looks down at his whip, and a thought comes to him.

“Say, do you know what it takes to make a magic item intelligent?   Where does the intelligence come from?”

“Oh, a  bunch of different ways,” answers Chiswick.  “If you were so inclined, you could suck it out of another living thing.   Or it can come from the cosmos itself; that’s the most common, since the other ways tend to be… unsavory.   That’s how I’d do it.  Also, there are certain materials that have an innate sub-intelligence in them already, and the process of enchanting them brings that out.  Those materials are very expensive, rare, and hard to come by, but it’s something you could try.”

“What would you use for a whip?” asks Dranko.

“A whip?  Never made one of those before.  What’s it made of?  Leather?”

“Yeah.  So maybe I should start with a really smart cow?”

“Hm.  Interesting.  Yes, that might be a good place to start.  If it was _really_ smart…”

Chiswick starts thinking about smart cows, pulls a book from his trunk, and begins to read.


* *


A month goes by, and all is going well.  The Company has settled into a comfortable routine, made some friends, and has had a few inconclusive discussions on where they’ll go when they’re ready to leave.   This particular day has been a long one for Kibi.  He spent the morning and early afternoon working on a _headband of intellect_.  After a break for lunch, he spent the rest of the day and most of the evening toiling in the brewery.  It’s hours after sunset that Kibi has dinner with Gnard before heading up to his room to sleep.  His bed is comfortable and a cool breeze wafts through his window.  With Scree piled up at the foot of the bed, the dwarf is soon slumbering.

He has a dream.  In the dream, he’s back in the distillery, working hard.  Then his _headband of intellect_ appears around his head, and with his mind thus expanded he realizes the way to make the perfect beer – beer so good, the Gods themselves would come down to drink it if they could.  But Scree is distraught about the beer, and Kibi doesn’t understand it.  Where did Scree come from, anyway?  He wasn’t in the brewery just now.

“What’s wrong?” asks Kibi in the dream.  “I know you can’t _drink_ it, but it’s going to be good beer!”

But despite his assurances,  Scree only becomes more and more agitated.   Then, strangely, Scree says, “Kibi, wake up, wake up!  Roll out of the way!”

Oh, it’s a dream!  Kibi wakes up groggily to find that someone is leaning over him.  It’s a man dressed all in black, with black bandages wrapped around his head and face, leaving only a gap for his eyes.  There’s something amiss about him physically, Kibi thinks in the moment he wakes.  And there’s something else, something heavy.  Ah!  Scree is heavy on his chest, and it seems that the earth elemental familiar has just deflected the knife away from his heart.  Knife?  Ah, yes, the knife that’s now buried into his side.   There’s a sudden hot burst of pain.

Kibi screams.


…to be continued...


----------



## Knightfall

Nice cliffhanger.


----------



## thatdarncat

eek!


----------



## coyote6

Ooh, Black Circle ninjas!


----------



## Ancalagon

Well those last few paragraphs were arguments for having a familiar weren't they!

glad to see more updates 

Ancalagon


----------



## Jackylhunter

Yep, especially Elemental ones that don't seem to need to sleep.

Great update as usual Sagiro


----------



## Jackylhunter

Instead of Bumping, how about we all wish Sagiro a happy B-day (blame P-cat)

oh what the heck...BUMP


----------



## Lord Pendragon

Happy Birthday Sagiro!  Looking forward to more Abernathy's Company goodness whenever you get around to it.


----------



## Sagiro

Thanks for the birthday wishes!  35.  <shudder>  Fortuately, the games keep me young.  

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 215*_
*Party in the Dwarf’s Room!*

When one is in the adventuring business, one tends to develop an uncanny ability to go from slumberous to battle-ready at even the slightest nearby scream.  Dranko hardly realizes he’s awake before he finds himself on his feet and grabbing his _Heward’s wide-mouth pouch_ from his bedside.  He listens long enough to discern that the cries are those of a dwarf, and even as he heads for the window (figuring even in his groggy head that the hallway is going to be choked with would-be rescuers), he starts shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Wake up!  Kibi’s under attack!”

He slips out the window and quickly shimmies along the outside wall of the Inn toward Kibi’s window.  He almost bumps into Flicker, who had the same idea and is moving from the other side, a dagger clenched in his teeth.

With Kibi and Dranko both raising a racket, everyone else is up and moving in a matter of seconds.   Grey Wolf grabs his sword and shield from the floor even as Edghar snags the spell-component bag and hops on his master’s shoulder; they burst into the hallway.   In his own room Aravis leaps to his feet, and much like Edghar, Pewter grabs the spell-components and leaps onto Aravis’ back.  

“Ready, boss!” thinks the cat.  Aravis casts _teleport_ directly into Kibi’s room.  He sees the black-clad assassin and Scree on top of Kibi.  The assassin has one knee up on the bed, and is pulling a dagger out of the dwarf’s body.

“I wouldn’t do that again,” says Aravis angrily.

Morningstar just rolls out of bed and charges into the hallway, dressed only in her nightshirt.  She doesn’t bother to bring anything from her room; she sleeps with her holy symbol around her neck, and that’s all she needs.  Kibi’s room is directly opposite her own, so she slams her body into the door, sending it flying open.  She sees Aravis, and beyond him the dwarf, earth elemental and assassin.  The floor around the bed is slick with blood.  As she watches the assassin raises his dagger again, but with Kibi now struggling and Scree still trying to protect his master, the strike goes wide and the blade plunges into the bed right next to Kibi’s head.

Thinking that he needs as much help as possible, Kibi tries to _summon_ another earth elemental to help protect him.  (And his Earth Mage powers allow him to perform such a summoning in less time that it would take others.)  But the struggling of  Scree and the Assassin on top of him knocks his hands awry as he casts, and the spell fizzles out.

Ernie, Snokas and Step come crashing out of their rooms into the hallway, all armed with grabbed weapons but otherwise just in nightclothes.  (Ernie is wearing red footie pajamas with a flap in the back.)  Step reacts the fastest and barges into Kibi’s room on Morningstar’s heels.  After a second of assessing the situation, he shoulders past Morningstar and Aravis and leaps onto the assassin, wrapping his arms around the man and trying to wrestle him off the bed..  Watching from outside on the wall, Dranko and Flicker suddenly see Step’s arm flail against the half-open shutters. Kibi grimaces in pain as the extra weight stresses his wound.

Dranko wrenches the shutters the rest of the way open and gets a good view of the tussle.   “Step, duck your head to the left!” he shouts, even as he instantly calls his mace from the _widemouth pouch_.  Dranko dives halfway into the room and swings the mace, grunting in satisfaction at the impact with the back of the assassin’s head.  There’s a meaty “thump,” but not quite the gush of blood he was expecting, and the man in black doesn’t even seem to notice. 

Aravis decides that enough is enough, and pulls out the big gun – _power word stun_.

“STOP!”

His allies in the room can feel the ripple of power sweep over them, but Aravis is appalled to see that the assassin isn’t fazed in the slightest, and just continues to try wrestling free of Step’s grasp.

The hallway outside is starting fill up, not only with various members of the Company, but also with other guests.  Omar is one of the first on the scene, dressed in a sleeping robe and clutching his rapier.  He’s babbling in a strange tongue – whatever translation effect he was using earlier isn’t turned on.  Grey Wolf, unable to squeeze into Kibi’s room, is standing guard outside, looking for other assassins.  When Omar looks at him expectantly, Grey Wolf uses hand gestures to indicate that there could be more hostiles about.  Omar nods and moves to the other end of the hall, weaving through other sleepy but curious guests.   Snokas goes with him.  Ernie realizes he’ll do no good either in the hallway or Kibi’s room, so he activates the flying ability of his shield and flies back to his own room and out the window.  In the light of the moon and some outside torchlight, he starts to scan the grounds for suspicious figures.

Morningstar squeezes toward the bed, intending to use her power of _protective sleep_ on Kibi.  But luck isn’t with her; with her fingers less than an inch from Kibi’s shoulder, the scrum atop the bed suddenly shifts position, and the power is dissipated instead into the assassin – again, with no effect.  

“Sorry Kibi!” she blurts.

Flicker squeezes into window next to Dranko and takes a stab with his dagger, but it proves too difficulty to strike the assassin while avoiding Step, Kibi and Dranko.  The blade goes wide, tears the mattress, and Flicker himself becomes overbalanced.  He falls into the room, on top of the bed.   Kibi hears the bed start to groan and splinter under the combined weight of five people plus Scree.  He’s starting to feel light-headed with blood loss.  With a flailing grasp he wraps his fingers around his spell-component pouch on a small bedside table, and casts _dimension door_.  Having seen Morningstar in the room with him, he chooses her room as a destination, guessing it will be empty.   The chaos around him vanishes, and in an instant he is lying on the wood floor of the room across the hall, Scree piled up next to him.  He rolls onto his back, gasping in pain, and jams his fist into the wound to staunch the bleeding.   With his other hand he reaches instinctively for a healing potion, which of course he doesn’t have on him. 

Back in his room, Step, the assassin, Dranko and Flicker all drop eight inches through the space left by Kibi.  That’s all for the bed – its legs crack and splay out and the frame breaks in two, dropping them all another three feet.  Step continues to grapple the assassin, who can’t escape the paladin’s determined grip.  In Kivian common, Morningstar cries out, “Kibi just _dim doored_ out!  Someone find him!”

Dranko doesn’t lose focus.  He lands two more telling blows with his mace, the second of which knocks a large chunk out of the assassin’s neck.  He stares, morbidly fascinated, at the hole he made.  It’s flesh, and  some blood, but there are no veins or arteries or muscle showing in the gaping wound.   

Aravis makes himself useful by casting _mass haste_.  He along with Step, Dranko, Flicker and Morningstar all get hasty.  With muscles a-quiver, Morningstar lands three powerful blows with her morningstar.  The first opens a gash in the assassin’s side.  The second shears away a chunk of flesh from its shoulder, which sticks on one of the weapon’s spikes.  The third smacks it in the head, tearing away the wrappings that cover its face.  She recoils instinctively at the sight of a face with no nose, no mouth, no ears – no features at all except the eyes, and from this close view, she can see that the eyes look like they’ve just been jammed into a head-shaped lump of molded flesh.

Grey Wolf spots movement across the hall.

“Found him!” he yells to the others.  “Morningstar’s room!”

Aristus Fuller finishes pushing his way through the crowd and reaches Grey Wolf in the hall.  

“What’s going on?” he asks breathlessly, his voice translated on time-delay into Charagan common.

“My friend has been attacked!”

“By whom?  By what?”

Kibi turns his head and sees Aristus and Grey Wolf.  

“Aristus!  I was attacked by an assassin!” groans the dwarf.  “Do you know anything about it?”

“No, of course not!” replies the gnome, affronted, but moving into the room and kneeling with Grey Wolf by Kibi’s side.

“No, I didn’t mean…” says Kibi.

“Are you going to be okay?” asks Grey Wolf?

“I could use some healing, but I’ll live,” says Kibi.

Aristus leaps to his feet.  “There could be more attackers around.  I’m going to go organize search parties.”  He dashes out into the hallway.

Back in Kibi’s room the assassin still struggles in Step’s iron grip.

“You’re not going _anywhere!_” shouts the paladin angrily, as the two roll around atop the bed’s wreckage.

Dranko calls for ‘manacles and leg irons’ from his _widemouth pouch_.   The leg irons will be impossible with all the thrashing, but Step has the assassin’s arms clamped in front of his body.   With a deft maneuver, Dranko is able to manacle the assassin’s wrists together.  It turns out to a moot point, as Aravis fires off a _greater dispelling_ followed immediately by a single-target _sonic chain-lightning_.  

*Wa-BOOM!*

What’s left of the bed shatters, the shutters are blown out of the window, and the assassin explodes.   Flesh splatters everywhere, even out the open doorway into the hall.  The manacles fall to the ground a second later, still with wrists bound inside them.  In the silence that follows, Dranko picks up the manacles.

“Look, I disarmed him!”


* *


Morningstar heals Kibi’s wounds, but the dwarf still looks weak and feverish.   She guesses poison, so Grey Wolf runs to his room and fetches the undead-bane sword that casts _restoration_ once per day.  Soon Kibi is back to full health.

Morningstar also manages to shoo everyone out of the dwarf’s blasted room.  She steps gingerly across the threshold, trying not to step on the larger pieces of meat.  The smell is horrific; the bits of the assassin are visibly decaying and the stench is nearly overpowering.   She blankets the room with _thought captures_, but gets nothing from the assassin.  The thoughts she picks up are mostly panicky ones from Kibi.  It’s now obvious to all that the attacker was some kind of necromantic construct – maybe a flesh golem?

Flicker examines the lock on Kibi’s door and concludes that it was expertly picked.  He searches for a few minutes in the fleshy muck and finds a set of thieves’ tools, as well as a rolled up piece of leather with two small glass vials.  The vials contain a dark slimy substance that matches what he finds on the bloody dagger.  Yep. Poison, all right.

Aristus’s search parties don’t turn up any sign of other assassins.  After an hour or two, most of the other guests have gone back to bed, the excitement seemingly over.  But Aravis decides to cast one more spell before going back to sleep.  He casts _vision_, hoping to learn something of the assassin.

*>> Aravis’s player:  “Is it considered to be ‘at hand?’”

>>DM: “It’s kind of a rotting hand, but yes.”*

He sits down next to the decaying wrist and hand still clamped inside Dranko’s manacles.   As he casts the spell, a small portion of his life force escapes through his fingertips and settles into the assassin’s remnants.  Everything around him grows white, and the vision begins.

_The world fades back to near-darkness.  He’s underground.  All around him is a chittering, insect-like sound.  Is it language?  His sight adjusts to the dark.  There are many strange creatures around him, ant-centaurs, the formians he has heard about.  Their insectoid faces are inscrutable.  They are looking down at strange books, and they are sculpting something.

The vision fades, and then refocuses on a different cavern in the dark.  Another insect creature is reading from a cracked stone tablet, and chittering at a naked humanoid figure whose only features are human eyes jammed into the flesh-head.  

The vision fades, but there is still more.  Now Aravis sees a group of creatures, mostly humanoids of various types, and also a small intelligent lizard.  There are maybe a dozen people altogether, some of whom he recognizes from the Inn.   In his vision there’s a space among them, which they all avoid but don’t notice, as if there’s someone invisible in their midst.   There’s a blue portal in front of this group, and a formian gestures to it, and the whole bunch moves through the portal._

Aravis’s eyes snap open; he finds himself lying on the ground.  He sits up, blinks, and recites every detail of his _vision_ to the others while it’s still fresh.   The Company knows that every few weeks, the formians round up people that have stumbled into their territory and send through the Way that connects to the Inn’s Slice.   But why would the formians want to kill Kibi?  How did they find out about him, if divinations don’t cross the Ways, and the Way into the formian-controlled territory is always guarded?  Grey Wolf, thinking about Kibi’s off-again, on-again excursion (back when he had been summoned), speculates that maybe there are prophecies about Kibi in any number of worlds.

They talk with Aristus, Gloriana and Mercury.  The formians have never given them any trouble before.  Their relationship with the ant-creatures is not exactly congenial, but there have never been hostilities, and the folk expelled from their Slices have always reported good treatment.  While some in the Company contemplate a foray into the formian Slices, Ernie points out that it could upset the relationship between the insects and the Inn, which in turn could put more innocent people in jeopardy.

Morningstar admits right away to their hosts that she used _thought captures_ in Kibi’s room after the attack, and Mercury is forgiving given the circumstances, though Gloriana shakes her head and says nothing.

“I’m sorry that our Inn was not secure,” says the centaur.  “We’ve never had anything like this happen.  Oh, our Slice has come under attack, but always through the Ways, overtly.”

“Do formians ever stay here, at the Inn?” asks Morningstar.

“The last time that happened, it was over six years ago,” says Mercury.

“It could be the Black Circle,” says Morningstar, thinking.  “If they knew Kibi was prophesied to ruin their plans, they may have placed safeguards here against him.”

The next morning Dranko decides to have a chat with one of the people who came into the Slice with the assassin.   He finds a peasant woman who looks about thirty, with her two-year-old son.   He starts to talk and the woman babbles back at him in a foreign tongue, so Dranko casts a pair of _comprehend language_ spells to expedite discussion.

“You understand me now?”

“Yes, yes!” says the woman.

“You came in with the others, from the place with the formians, right?”

The woman nods.

“How many came in with your group?”

“When they sent us through?  Twelve, I think.  I did not make careful count.”

“How long did the journey take?”

“We passed through four of the portals.  Maybe… a week?”  She scrunches up her face, trying to remember.

“What do you think the chances were that you had an invisible assassin with you the entire time?”

Dranko leans in as he asks the question.  The two-year-old son in her arms doesn’t cry, and it occurs to Dranko that the kid could be much older than that.

“Invisible Assassin?  The assassin was invisible?  I heard about what happened!  But no, I didn’t see anything…er… invisible.”

“Did you notice anything else odd?” asks Dranko.

“Yes!  There was a small talking lizard in the group.  Very odd, very odd!” 

“Small talking lizard.  Who’d he belong to?”

“He didn’t belong to anyone.  He was a person, like you or me.  And he could talk.  If I understand correctly, he decided to go through the Way of No Return.”

“Huh.  Fascinating.  You know anything about how to fight Formians?”

“Fight them?  Heavens no!  I make sweaters.”

Dranko sighs.

…to be continued…


----------



## Uzumaki

An update for my birthday. This is better than getting drunk. Happy Birthday to us all.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Uzumaki said:
			
		

> An update for my birthday. This is better than getting drunk. Happy Birthday to us all.




Now that I think about it, Sagiro's game is generally better than a good buzz.  You get silly, laugh a lot, do amazing things that you can't _believe_ you even tried to do, all with no vomiting, hangovers or unpleasant social consequences.  And it's free!

Well, ok, we pay for food.  And PC seems to buy a lot of peeps.


----------



## Lefferts

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Well, ok, we pay for food.  And PC seems to buy a lot of peeps.




Mmmm, peeps. They taste even better when they're stale.

Lefferts


----------



## The Axe

Lefferts said:
			
		

> Mmmm, peeps. They taste even better when they're stale.
> 
> Lefferts




Wow, I thought I was the only one that believed that!


----------



## Plane Sailing

I was starting to wonder whether Kibi's vanishing off to other planes a few years ago might turn up here... it looks as if I'm not the only one that this might have occurred to.

I love the apparatus of (not)Kwalish making an appearance - a logical choice for attempting to navigate the ways.

I wonder if the powerful aged wizard has anything in his little book of divinations that would help in understanding something about the assassin? I guess that anything further than the vision has been blocked by the ways effect.


Cheers,


----------



## Duncan Haldane

*Bump!*

Phew. Finally caught up again.

How far is this last chapter from the in-game action?

And what level are the characters now? I assume the time spent at the inn making things and so on is levelling?

Oh, and one more question: Sagiro, have you read Neil Gaiman's Sandman? The inn reminds me of the one on the finally section of Sandman, where travellers stranded across different times gather.

Thanks Again, Sagiro and players, for making such an interesting story.

Duncan


----------



## Sagiro

Duncan Haldane said:
			
		

> Phew. Finally caught up again.
> 
> How far is this last chapter from the in-game action?
> 
> And what level are the characters now? I assume the time spent at the inn making things and so on is levelling?
> 
> Oh, and one more question: Sagiro, have you read Neil Gaiman's Sandman? The inn reminds me of the one on the finally section of Sandman, where travellers stranded across different times gather.
> 
> Thanks Again, Sagiro and players, for making such an interesting story.
> 
> Duncan





Hey there!

First, to answer Duncan's questions:  The characters are now between 12th and 14th level.   Yes, time spent at the Inn was "training time" for them.  Judging by my tapes, I'm about 8 runs behind right now, soon to become 9, since we run again tomorrow.  And yes, Neil Gaiman's "World's Edge" was a direct inspiration for the Eye of the Storm, and the centaur physician therein was an inspiration for Mercury.  Nice catch... I try to steal from the best!  

And while I'm here, have the next update.

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 216*_
*Srapa*


Aravis knocks on the door of Aristus Fuller’s basement laboratory.   No one answers, but Aravis can hear sounds coming from inside, so he knocks again, louder.  The noises stop.

“Wait outside for a minute!” calls Aristus.  “Who is it?”

“Aravis.”

“Hold on, hold on!” shouts the gnome.

“No problem, I’ll wait.”

From inside the lab comes a furious cacophony of strange noises: clanking, clattering, a loud hiss of escaping steam, an otherworldly hydraulic sound.   Then, after a few seconds of silence, a new noise.  It’s a steady chunk-chunk-chunk, getting louder, as though something large and heavy is walking toward the door.

“All right!  I just need to turn this, and adjust these levers, and…”

A metal claw comes smashing through the door,  just missing Aravis’s head and sending wood splinters flying.  It’s followed immediately by a high-pitched shriek of dismay.

“Oops!  Stand back!”

Aravis has already done so.  He watches as the claw tries to retract, but it’s stuck in the door.   It shakes and wriggles, while Aristus curses and mutters from the other side.  Suddenly the whole door is wrenched from its hinges, pulled free by a metal arm.  Aravis peers through the now gaping doorway.

“Damn it!  Damn it!  Damn it!”  Aristus is climbing out of his barrel-like machine and looking ruefully at the door.  When he’s all the way out, the machine tips up, overbalanced by the wooden door dangling from one extended arm.

“Guess I’ll have to fix the door again,” says Aristus ruefully.  “In theory I should be able to turn the handle with either front claw and open the door the proper way.  It’s just these fiddly bits that are so.. so darned.. fiddly!  What can I do for you?”

“I hear you have a scrying mirror,” says Aravis, unfazed. He’s seen stranger.

“Yeah.  I’m borrowing Gloriana’s.  What you want to scry?”

“I had a vision about the assassin.  It was sent by a group of Formians, and I want to try to scry them.”

“You mean, scry them in the Slice where they are now?  Not gonna work.”

“You’ve tried it?

“Not me personally, but there have been wizards who have tried it.  You can’t scry across Slices.  Sorry.  You can still borrow the mirror if you want.”

Aravis figures it can’t hurt to try, so he takes it and wrestles it up the stairs.

“Don’t break it, or Gloriana will kill me!”


* *

In the days and weeks following, the Company makes numerous inquiries about the Formians.  Ernie asks around about their military capabilities, but none of the current residents of the Inn have ever fought a Formian.   There are stories about battles against them, and the moral of these stories is “don’t try it,” not because any individual Formian is too dangerous, but because of their numbers, and their ability to fight in groups with perfect coordination.  Kibi is more interested in the motives of his would-be assassins, but on this subject no one has even the slightest idea.  Even those who occasionally interact with them consider them alien, their thoughts opaque, inscrutable.   Mercury and Gloriana opine that perhaps the Formians are enjoying the status quo within the Slices, and don’t want to see them dispersed.  And if Kibi has something to do with the Slices, as the monks from Chaos imply…

Kibi also asks about the talking lizard that came through with the assassin, but no one has much to say about him, except that he apparently told great stories when he was drunk.

Training continues apace.   The Company crafts magic items (including arrows and potions for the Inn’s general supply), helps train other Inn residents in fighting techniques, and takes turns at guarding the Ways in.  Ernie helps make food, and Kibi helps make drink, and in all the party is very popular.  Kibi keeps an _alarm_ cast on his door, but there are no more attempts on his life.  Aravis tries to _scry_ the Formians, but as expected it doesn’t work across Slice boundaries.  

The Company also learns that the translation magic some people enjoy comes from specific items.   They are small discs worn around the neck on chains – someone in Het Branoi must have made dozens or hundreds of them long ago, an attempt to solve the communication problems inherent in the system.  Since then they’ve become a kind of currency in the Slices.  Chiswick had a store of them he picked up somewhere, but he has since sold or given away his supply, and he has no extras.

Another month passes before the next person comes looking for Kibi.

Half the Company is in a bit of the basement that Aristus is letting the Company use as a workshop, an area similar to the party’s setup in the Greenhouse.   One of the guests working as a table-server pokes his head in.

“Kibilhathur?  You have a visitor.”

Kibi stops what he’s doing and looks up.

“Are only its eyes showing?” the dwarf asks suspiciously.

“No.  I mean yes… er, his whole face is showing, I mean.”

“Does it speak?”

“Of course,” answers the server, confused.  “He asked for you by name.  I don’t know _his_ name, though he’s reptilian.   A lizard-man, I think.  He said:  ‘I’m here for Kibilhathur Bimson.’  Should I tell him you’re here?  Tell him you’re out?”

“I’d like to have my friends present when I talk to him.  But tell him I’ll come to meet him soon.”

Step has been serving as Kibi's bodyguard since the assassination attempt, and he stands up quickly.  Dranko offers to use magic to disguise himself as Kibi and meet the lizard man himself.

“That way I’ll take the first shot, if there is one,” says Dranko.

“No, thanks,” says Kibi.  “You’ll just do something embarrassing and he’ll think it was me.”

“I was just making the offer,” grumbles Dranko.

“You could cast _shield other_, though, if you want to help.”

A flurry of spell-casting follows.  Dranko casts some protective spells.  Morningstar gets a bunch of them on a _telepathic bond_.  Grey Wolf makes himself invisible, and also casts _see invisibility_ on himself.  Dranko cast _detect magic_ right before he goes upstairs.  Before Kibi and Step come up, the rest of the Company takes their places around the common room, ready to intervene if necessary.  Dranko notes right away that nothing on the lizard man is magical, which of course makes him suspicious.

The lizard man seems normal enough.  He’s short, not much more than five feet tall.  His skin is dark green scales, and he wears a long robe of a similar color.  He sits at a table near the center of the commons, drinking from a tall mug.  When he sees Kibi he stares immediately, watching the dwarf intently.  Kibi walks over, Step at his side.

“How do you do?  You must be the visitor who asked for me.”

“Ahhh…. You are Kibilhathur  Bimmmmmssssson.  A pleasure to meet you at lasssssst.”

The lizard-man’s accent is sibilant and drawn out, and a little disturbing.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” says Kibi affably.  “What’s your name?”

“I am Sssssrapa,” answers the lizard-man.

“How do you know me?  I’m sure we’ve never met.”

“I was sssssent to retrieve you.”

“Retrieve me?”  Kibi’s eyebrows go up.  Scree grinds two of his rocks together in agitation.

“Invite you to come back with me.  To meet my masssster, the Lord of the Rosesssss.”

The name’s not ringing any bells.

“Why?” asks Kibi.

“Because my massssster assssked me to retrieve you.  Beyond the demonssss, he said.  And he gave me a figurine of you.”

“Ah, may I see it?”

Srapa reaches into a pouch on his belt.  Ernie gets tense and grips his sword hilt at the next table over, but the lizard-man does pull out a figurine, made of wood.  Like Omar’s, it looks just like Kibi, though it’s in a slightly different pose.  It also has small painted grey rubble at its feet.  Kibi convinces Srapa to lend it to him.

“Did your master make this for you, so you would know me?” asks Kibi.

“I don’t think he made it himssssself.”

“Oh.  Does he have more like it?”

“It’s the only one I have sssseen.”

“So you came through the Demon Slices just to find me?  I’m sorry.  That must have been a rough journey.”

“Not as rough for me.  I have wayssss to keep mysssself hidden.  It will be rougher for you.”

Kibi frowns.

“So, um, you’re asking me to go through the Demon Slices, to meet some king I’ve never heard of, or met, for an unknown reason.”

If Srapa detects the skepticism, it doesn’t show.

“Yessss.  He told me to ssssay, that he can tell you how we can all be free, but he needs you.”

“Huh.  I seem to be hearing that a lot these days,” says Kibi under his breath.

“Really?” says Srapa, hearing him and suddenly sitting up straighter.  “Who else wantssss you?”  

Kibi pauses, thinking, and decides not to answer the question.  After a few silent seconds, he says, “I have a group of friends with whom I travel.”

“Yessss.  I was told to expect that.  They may accompany you.  The Lord of the Rosssses looks forward to sssseeing all of you, but you in particular.”

“How do we know if we can trust you? If we get permission from the owners here, could we cast truth spells on you, to make sure you’re being honest?”

“I do not know the rulesssss here, but such magicssss would not work on me.  Nor would I allow it.  I must ssssimply ask you to trusssst me.  I have no ill will toward you, but it is very important that I ssssucceed in my mission.”

Srapa’s stare is unblinking, and a small forked tongue flickers in and out as he talks.  Kibi shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

“Can you tell me more about this Lord of the Roses?” he asks.

“Ahhh… I do not know much.  He is our masssster.   He is very powerful.  We cannot ssssee him.  He issss as bright light when one lookssss at him.”

How unhelpful.

“Can I have a little while to think about it?” asks Kibi.

“Yessss, but not too long.  I will assssk again tomorrow.”

Most of the Company are thinking the same thing at this point.  Who is Srapa to give them a timetable?  Is that some kind of a threat?

“What would happen if I decide to say no?” Kibi asks.

“That would be unfortunate.” 

Now _that’s_ a threat!

“If you are content to live out the resssst of your life ssssstuck in this prison…” continues Srapa.

“If you were to, for example, attack me,” Kibi interrupts, “I wouldn’t be able to do whatever it is you need me to…”

“I will not attack you!” says Srapa.  “You are too important.  I will have to convincssse you.”

Kibi sighs.  “I’m amenable to reason.  But I’ll need something more than just you asking me to take this all on faith.”

“You should discusssss it with your friendssss.   I do not wish to compel you, againsssst your will.  I hope you will come with me because it’s the right thing to do.  Sssso that you will sssspeak with the Lord of the Rosssses.”

Srapa looks at though he’s done with the conversation for now, but as usual Kibi can’t stop trying to wring out every drop of information he can.

“Back there, where the Lord of the Roses is, is everyone like you?  Reptilian?”

“No, no.  There are all kindsss of people.  Like here.  Eventually people find their way to his casssstle, and he protectssss them.”

“This castle,” says Kibi.  “It’s on the ground, right.  It’s not some kind of floating thing up in the clouds or anything?”

“There’s nothing on the outsssside of it.  It is it’s own Sssslice.”

“Does the Lord of the Roses protect people in other Slices, too?” asks Kibi.

“He protectssss those who come to him.  He does not leave the casssstle.  But the people who find him, they are happy, because they find that they are ssssafe.”

“Are they free to leave?”

“Yessss, of course.  But they do not leave, because they ssssee that he is wise, and good.”

Over the mind-link, Morningstar thinks, “He didn’t send an assassin.  He started out talking instead of stabbing.  That’s promising.”

“He wants Kibi alive and not dead,” thinks Aravis.  “That doesn’t mean he’s any better.”

“How did you know to find me here?” asks Kibi.

“The Lord of the Rosssses told me you would be here.”

“Well, how did _he_ know?”

“I don’t know.  He knows many thingsssss.”


* *

Later that night the Company is crowded into Morningstar’s room, discussing their options.   Only Kibi and One Certain Step aren’t there --  they’re in Kibi’s room, where the dwarf is casting _Legend Lore_ on the wooden statuette.   Through mundane expertise and _know age_ spells the party has concluded that the two statuettes were made by the same person a couple hundred years ago, but twenty-nine years apart.   Srapa’s wooden one is older, but Omar’s is of higher quality, implying that the sculptor got better with age.

After half and hour of casting, Kibi’s head snaps up and he speaks aloud the results of the spell: 

* Carved by a madman who once was king.   He did not understand the Eye.  He wanders now the maze of his own making, littering his creation with the image of his savior.  It is all he has left.  A hope that his mind knows not, though it is burned there.*

He and Step join the others, who have been talking among themselves about which of the three likely ways they might go when they finish training.   They can go through Chaos to find the monks who sent the letter, or they can go with Srapa to meet the Lord of the Roses, or they can try their luck with the “Gate of No Return.”

Kibi shares the results of his spell with the others.

“So I guess that the guy who created this place is leaving little carvings of me,” says Kibi in conclusion.

“Because you’re the key to undoing this,” says Grey Wolf.

“He’s the canary,” says Morningstar, referring to the original prophecy from the Eyes of Moirel.

“And his creation broke him,” says Ernie.

There’s a few minutes of meandering speculation, ranging from talk on old prophecies, to the nature and motives of the “madman,” to guesses as to how he’s scattering statuettes of Kibi.

“Just when you thought this couldn’t possibly get more complicated,” sighs Grey Wolf during a lull.

“Now you understand the world’s desire to kick us in the shins,” says Ernie.

“I think my shins have been kicked too many times.,” says Grey Wolf.  “I’m starting not to feel it.”

“I _did_ notice you haven’t said ‘we’re doomed’ in a long time,” says Ernie.

 “I still think we should go through the Gate of No Return,” says Aravis.

“But it’s the only place from where we haven’t gotten a message saying ‘come here Kibilhathur!’” says Ernie.

“Exactly!” answers Aravis.

“The problem with that is, if we’re wrong, that sure leaves us out in the middle of nowhere,” says Kibi.  “And the monks did send me that nice letter, and a magic item, too.”

“And I’d rather deal with Chaos than the Demon Slices,” says Dranko.

The Company breaks for dinner and some more information gathering, but it’s fruitless.  No one at the Inn has heard stories about a crazy guy spewing prophecy, or (except for Srapa) have heard of the Lord of the Roses.  Back upstairs later than evening, the debate continues.

“I say ‘first come, first served,’” says Dranko, continuing his push for Chaos.

“The woman from Chaos wasn’t trustworthy,” says Step, “but I don’t trust the lizard-man either.”

“At least we’d have a guide, though, if we go with Srapa,” says Morningstar.  “In the Chaos, we’d be on our own.”

“Chaos scares me less than Demons,” says Dranko.

“Let me read that letter from Chaos again,” says Morningstar.   She scans it, and stops when she gets to a certain phrase.

“'Meditations and Prayers,' say the monks.  Our spells to contact our Gods don’t work.  But theirs do?  Who are they praying to?  They’re getting in touch with _somebody_.  This place was created by the Black Circle.  So who’s talking back?”

“And what are Slaad?” asks Kibi.

“I think Slaad are big frogs,” says Aravis.

“How tough can a big frog be?” asks Dranko.

“How tough could a big turtle be?” says Morningstar.

“That’s an awfully good point,” says Dranko.  “Anyhow, we don’t have to decide now,” says Dranko.  “We should finish training.  In the next two weeks, we may get three more offers!”


* *


It’s the next morning.  To test Srapa’s failure to detect as magic, Kibi casts _magic mouth_ on the statuette before giving it back to Srapa.  Dranko casts _detect magic_ just before walking in.  The party approaches Srapa in a group, Kibi and Step out front.  The lizard-man is sitting at the same table as before, an implacable expression on his scaly face.

“Ah!  Have you made your decsssision?” asks Srapa as the dwarf sits down.

“Kind of.  We’re in the middle of training, and we have two weeks left before we’re ready to journey.”

“But in two weekssss you will come with me?”

“Well, we decided that since we have to wait here for two weeks, we don’t have to decide just now.”

Srapa pauses, thinking.  At least, Kibi thinks he’s thinking.

“I will give you two weekssss.”

“Thank you.  Oh, and here’s your statue back.”

Srapa takes the statue, and to Dranko, the magic immediately disappears.

“Would you have any way of protecting us, if we cross the Demon Slices?” asks Kibi.

“I have magicssss, but I do not know the mindssss of demonssss.  I hid from them.  I have my wayssss.”

His forked tongue flicks in and out of his mouth.

“Two weekssss.  I will not wait longer.  The Lord of the Roses expressed a need for hasssste.”

“How long has the Lord of the Roses been waiting?” asks Dranko.

“I don’t know,” admits Srapa.

“I bet it’s been a very long time,” says Dranko.  “So two weeks, not a big deal.  We’ve got other offers.  Why should we go with you instead of one of the others?”

“Other offers?  Explain!”  For the first time, Srapa sounds upset.

“You want us to go with you.  Other people want us to go with them,” says Dranko.

“I would not trusssst their motives,” says Srapa.  Grey Wolf snorts.

“And why should we trust yours?” asks Kibi.

“Because the Lord of the Rosssses is good,” says Srapa, either ignoring or unaware of his own circular logic.

“Ok, that’s great,” says Dranko, “and that’s what you say, but we don’t know him, so we can’t tell.  Maybe he’s good at eating people.  We just don’t know.”

Srapa makes a strange noise.  Laughter?  Exasperation?

“He doessss not eat people,” he says.

“How many days did it take you to get here?” asks Dranko.

“I traveled for weeksssss, but I went sssslowly.”

“Well, I was thinking that since we’ll be here for a while, you could pop back there and bring him here in person.”

“He does not leave his casssstle,” says Srapa.

“How come?”

“I don’t know.  But it is proper that _you_ come with _me,_” says Srapa.

“Well, thanks for asking,” says Dranko.  “We’ll let you know in a couple of weeks.  But let me ask you one more thing.  If we decide _not_ to come with you, what are the consequences of that?”

“I don’t know,” says Srapa again.

“What would you guess?” prompts Dranko.

“I know that the Lord of the Rosssses would be dissssappointed if I came back without Kibilhathur Bimmmssssson.”

“Would you decide to take him by force?” asks Dranko, leaning in.

“I would have to conssssider.  But I do not wish to incur his, or your, enmity…”

“That would certainly be a side effect,” mutters Grey Wolf under his breath,

“…so I would be inclined not to,” Srapa finishes.


* *

The next two weeks pass quickly.   The Company finishes up their training, puts some final touches on magic items and scribed spells, and engages in yet more debate about where they’ll go next.  Many in the party are dubious about going to either the Chaos or through the Demon Slices with Srapa.   Aravis and Ernie wonder aloud why, if Kibi is so darned important, the monks or this Lord of the Roses person don’t come to _them_.

“It’s the classic adventure,” says Ernie.  “With Kibi at the end of it.  They should have to go on a long quest through terrible perils to reach their ultimate goal…”  He gestures toward Kibi, and then adds, “…and perhaps learn a little something about themselves along the way.” *

Kibi, though, just wants to go.  

“And if we just go _somewhere_, it will be harder for assassins to track us.”

“Another reason to go through the Gate of No Return,” says Aravis.

The night before Srapa’s deadline, the Company holds a vote.

Dranko votes to avoid demons if at all possible, and chooses the Chaos.  One Certain Step has changed his mind, and now also prefers the Chaos.

“I don’t trust the lizard-man,” he explains.

“I vote Chaos,” says Ernie.  “Like Kibi says, they sent us a very nice letter.”

Aravis and Grey Wolf, not trusting either place, both vote for the Gate of No Return. 

Morningstar lets out a frustrated breath when it’s her turn to vote.  “It’s a waste of time.  If Kibi’s so important, they’d have come here.  I abstain.”

Flicker is the only person who votes to go with Srapa.   Snokas points at Kibi.  “I think we should do what he wants to do.  His life is more at stake than ours.”

Morningstar looks at Snokas, nodding in approval.  “I change my abstention to that,” she says.  “What Kibi decides, I’ll vote.”

Which leaves the deciding vote in Kibi’s hands

“So, given that we don’t know much about either, the Chaos monks at least promised me information; the Lord of the Roses just says that he needs me.  So I vote Chaos.”  (Scree agrees, though he’s worried that there may be parts of Chaos which don’t have any Earth element.)

Aravis thinks they should just leave without telling Srapa they’re going, but Ernie insists they should be polite and tell the lizard-man their decision.  Everyone is worried about Srapa, and if they’ll have to fight him when they decline his offer.  Their inability to _detect magic_ on him is troublesome.   But with their decision made, they drift back to their own rooms one by one.

Flicker, who does much of his training at night, grabs his equipment and his short sword and heads out into the hall after the others are asleep.  Aristus is usually up late, and Flicker wants to borrow one of his tools, thinking to try it out as a lock-picking device.   He moves down the hall toward the stairs to the commons, and almost bumps into a human woman coming the other way.

“You’re Flicker, aren’t you?”  asks the woman in a quiet voice, and smiling shyly.

“That’s me,” says the halfling.

“I hear you have a good eye for valuables,” says the woman, digging into a small pouch at her side.

“I might,” says Flicker, grinning.  “Want me to appraise something for you?”

“Yes, I would,” says the woman.  “It’s a gem, a sapphire I found in a Slice near my home.  I think it’s valuable, but I’m not sure if it’s a fake or not.  If you can give me an accurate estimation, I’ll let you have some of the profits if I can find a buyer.”

“Let me take a look,” says Flicker.  The woman hands him the sapphire.  He pulls out a magnifying lens and takes a good look.  

The woman smiles appreciatively.


* *


The next morning the party gathers in Ernie’s room for the ritual casting of preparatory spells.   Part of the plan is to make Aravis magically look like Kibi, in case Srapa tries anything.   But about half way through their casting, they realize that Flicker is not with them.   He’s probably off training – he often comes home at mid-morning and sleeps until lunch.  But Grey Wolf has a feeling in his gut (no, not that one).  

“Why do I think our lizard friend has kidnapped Flicker?” he says.  To put his mind at ease, Morningstar casts a _sending_ to the halfling.

There’s no answer.   

Dranko and Snokas go to his room, expecting to find that he’s still sleeping, but the room is empty.  Most of the stuff he takes out for training isn’t there, and there’s no sign of a struggle.

“Sh*t!,” exclaims Morningstar when the half-orcs come back.  He could be asleep somewhere else, or unconscious, or dead, or in another Slice – there are no good options.

“If he was kidnapped, lizard-guy would have to have left by one of the Ways out,” says Dranko.  “I’ll check ‘em out.”

After Dranko gets put in a _telepathic bond_ with Morningstar and Kibi, he and Snokas dash downstairs.  To Dranko’s great surprise, Srapa is sitting at his table, looking as calm as ever.

“Hey, you seen the little guy?” asks Dranko, approaching Srapa’s table.

“Yesssss,” answers Srapa with a flick of the tongue.

“Where?” Dranko demands.

“I have him sssssafe,” says Srapa.

“Oh, you do, huh?  You made the wrong decision, my friend.”

“No,” says Srapa earnestly. “Now that I have your friend, you will come with me to make sure he sssstays ssssafe.”

“Noooooo,” says Dranko slowly.  “Now that you have our friend, we’re not coming with you.”

Because he can’t resist, Dranko adds,  “We were _going to_, but now…”

“You assssked what I would do if you were to ssssay no to me,” says Srapa, still sitting.  “I thought about it.  I decssssided to make sure that you wouldn’t.”

…to be continued…


* _This last utterance by Ernie caused the entire table to collapse into laughter for almost a full minute._


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “It’s the classic adventure,” says Ernie.  “With Kibi at the end of it.  They should have to go on a long quest through terrible perils to reach their ultimate goal…”  He gestures toward Kibi, and then adds, “…and perhaps learn a little something about themselves along the way.” *
> 
> * _This last utterance by Ernie caused the entire table to collapse into laughter for almost a full minute._




It had much the same effect here...


----------



## Jackylhunter

Sneaky Lizard dude.   Great Update!


----------



## Caliber

Whohoo! Always happy to see this story hour still in operation. 

I was hoping to see some Formian action, but some soul stealing lizards are just as good!


----------



## RangerWickett

A thought I had, maybe too secretive for the PCs to know about it.



Spoiler



What happens when a powerful artifact is created and recovered in one timeline, but then only created in the alternate one?  What if this powerful artifact has to do with interdimensional travel?  Was the Crosser's Maze built in this alternate timeline, and if so, where is it?  Is the dude inside still crazy?  A few lines from this last update hint toward that possiblity.



I know, as a GM, that I love revisting cool old dungeons if I can make them fit into the new, higher-level adventure.  I wonder if that is what Sagiro has done.


----------



## Knightfall

I have this *gut* feeling I know who the Lord of Roses is. But I'm not telling.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 217*_
*Chase*

Dranko and Srapa just stare at each other for second.   Dranko is sharing this conversation with some of the others over a _telepathic bond_.  Most of the party is still upstairs (having just finished the morning application of buffing spells).  Only Snokas is downstairs with him.

“You ssssee,” says Srapa matter-of-factly, “I will now go into the Demon Slices.  And you will follow, to make sure your friend is ssssafe."

“No,” repeats Dranko simply.  “And now you’re going to leave without Kibilhathur Bimson, because of what you just did.  What kind of idiots do you think we are?  That is _not_ how civilized people do business.  I’m ashamed of you.”

“I am ssssorry that you feel that way.  You know where the Way is.   I exssspect that you will follow me.”

Srapa’s voice is perfectly calm, his reptilian face still expressionless.

“You’re wrong,” growls Dranko.  “You see, the person that you took is not  as important as master Bimson.”

Srapa flicks his tongue.  “I have watched your interactions.  The persssson I have is _very_ important, to all of you.  You will not risk his ssssafety, even for Kibilhathur Bimson’s ssssake.  You will follow me.  If you harm me, you will not be able to find him.”

“That’s possible,” grumbles Dranko.

“Yessss.  I believe have found the easiest way to carry out the Lord of the Rosssses’ wishessss.  I will ssssee you beyond the Way to the Demon Sssslices.”

Dranko nods subtly at Snokas, who takes the hint.   In a flash both of Snokas’s picks are in his hand, and he swings them hard at Srapa.  Blood spills out of two holes in the lizard-man’s robe.  Srapa stumbles back out of his chair, casts a spell, and vanishes.  Dranko stares helplessly at the empty chair, as most of the rest of the Company come crashing down the stairs.

“God damn it!” yells Dranko.  He smashes his fists down on a table, then picks up Srapa’s chair and flings it across the bar, shattering glass and chair both.

“Dranko!” Ernie shouts at him, as the other guests stare.  “I know you’re angry.  I’m angry.  But that doesn’t you mean you should smash up someone else’s bar.”

“Do we have some way of finding Flicker now?” asks Kibi.  “Srapa’s probably still on this Slice.”

As a result of their spell-casting, Kibi now looks like Aravis, and Aravis looks like Kibi, as a precautionary measure.  Kibi has also cast _nondetection_ on himself.

Dranko growls, “but Flicker’s probably _not_ on this Slice.   Srapa probably already has him stashed in the next Slice.   And our Lizard friend has probably _teleported_ next to the gate.  I bet he’s going through right now.”

“Then lets go after him!” exhorts Aravis.  And wasting no time, he does so.  Over the past weeks, he and Kibi have both made a point of studying the ground right in front of every Way out of the Slice, just in case of this sort of emergency.  He _teleports_ with confidence, and finds himself a split second later standing beneath the heavy netting and hanging chimes before a glowing blue Way.  Srapa is not in evidence, but the thirty or so guards who watch the Way are already talking excitedly on the other side of the moat.   There’s no time to listen; he steps through.  

There are two seconds of cold blackness as he is pulled through the Way into the next Slice.  Then there is light, a reddish light, as he steps out.  He’s standing on rough ground and there’s a sulfurous smell in the air.  Moreover, the place _feels_ wrong, permeated as it is by evil and chaos.  It’s faint but unmistakable.  The Abyss.

A few feet away stands Srapa.  There is no sign of Flicker.  Aravis is desperately hoping that Srapa doesn’t _teleport_ away again; his hope is that Srapa won’t flee in a way that is impossible to follow.

Kibi, Morningstar and Step are still on the stairs.  Kibi reaches out and does like Aravis, _teleporting_ the three of them to the Way to the Demon Slices.  Morningstar and Step charge through the Way and are soon standing next to Aravis (who looks like Kibi) and getting their bearings in this lifeless scrubland.  Srapa hisses at them.

Ernie, with no way to _teleport_, activates his shield and flies out the door.  “I’m coming, Flick!”

Srapa blinks at the disguised Aravis.  “Ah, Kibilhathur Bimssssson!”  

Aravis smiles inwardly.

“I ssssee you have made the wise choice,” says the lizard-man.  “Are your friendssss coming?”

“No one is going anywhere,” says Aravis.

“Ah, I ssssee.  Either way, I will be on the other side of the next Way, with your friend.  You will ssssurvive,  This Sssslice is not dangeroussss.”

Srapa points across the rocky terrain, and without another word _teleports_ away again.



* *



Horny comes stomping out of a storeroom and surveys the damage.  Dranko tosses him a small bag of coins.

“What happened here?” demands the minotaur.

“The lizard-man just kidnapped our friend and fled to the Demon Slices!” says Dranko angrily.

“Are you serious?” asks Horny, incredulous.  “That f***er!  Keep the money.  It’s just a table.  And a chair.  And some glasses.  We’ll get some guests to make new ones.

The rest of the Company regroups back at the Inn, and starts talking about ways to track Srapa, and what (if any) immediate actions they should take.

*>> During a lull in this discussion, there is the following small exchange:

DM:  “So, what’s your plan now?”

Dranko’s player (Piratecat): “To kill you”*

Into a brief silence, Morningstar unexpectedly says, “I don’t think we should follow him.”

Everyone turns to stare.

“Then we abandon Flicker,” says Aravis.

“Yes,” says Morningstar.  Her expression is grim.

“No!” says Ernie angrily.  “That is unacceptable!  Yondalla put him in my care.  I’m not leaving him in the Demon Slices.”

“And what will he do to Flicker if he figures out we’re not following him?” asks Kibi.

“We should assume that he’ll _kill_ Flicker,” says Aravis.

“We have a mission that’s more important,”  Morningstar.  “I would hope that if I were the one who were captured, you wouldn’t waste your time coming after me, but instead stayed focused on the major problem – finding the Eye of Moirel.”

“But…” says Dranko.

“He’s got us set up.,” says Morningstar.  “We’re going to get to the next Slice, and Flicker’s not going to be there.  We’ll have to follow him.  And if we keep following him, he'll lead us right to the Lord of the Roses, which we already decided wasn’t where we wanted to go.”

“Yup,” says Dranko.

“Yup,” says Kibi.

“Yup,” says Grey Wolf.

Morningstar sighs.  “I understand I’m the only one who feels that way, so if we’re going after him, let’s just go.”

“Where is he then?” asks Ernie, his face full of worry.  Aravis explains that Srapa pointed in the direction of the next Way, and that the lizard-man would be waiting on the other side.  He puts his hand on the halfling’s shoulder. 

“Flicker is safe, as long as Srapa thinks we’re still following him.”

Grey Wolf grimaces and grips Bostock’s hilt.  “As long as we get to lop the lizard’s head off, I don’t care what else we do.  Kill the lizard, get Flicker back.”

Ernie glances nervously at One Certain Step.

“How do you feel about… killing Srapa,” he asks.  The paladin frowns and thinks for a minute.

“I feel we should pursue him,” he says at last.  “As for Flicker, I don’t consider abandoning a friend and companion to be an option.  But the lizard has not physically injured Flicker, as far as we know…”

“Then if he surrenders, we won’t kill him,” says Ernie.

“Acceptable,” says Step.  

Aravis clears his throat.  “I have to point out that drastic force may be required to disable him, before he has a _chance_ to surrender.  He may not survive.”

Step nods.  “I said he has not _physically_ attacked Flicker, but abduction is still a violation of his person.  The giants did nothing to us before we attacked them.  With Srapa, that’s not the case.  He has already invited our wrath, in a very direct way.  If he dies in the rescue, so be it.”

Ernie bristles.  “We can’t let him get away with it.   If we do, everyone who wants Kibi will start grabbing party members, and we can’t set that sort of precedent.”

Grey Wolf glances at Step but his mind is made up.  “The lizard dies.”


* *

Before long the entire Company has gone through the first Way and is standing in the first of the Demon Slices.  The sky is still an angry red, and the atmosphere vibrates with evil and chaos.  Step subconsciously clenches his fists.

“Welcome to the Abyss,’ says Aravis.  

They cannot _teleport_ effectively, not knowing where it is they’re going.  They have only Srapa’s pointing to give them a direction.  

“No rush though,” says Dranko.  “Srapa’s not likely to do anything except wait for us.”

“But he can only _teleport_ so many times in a day,” points out Snokas.  “It would be good to get him before he prepares a new day’s worth.”

They walk briskly as they discuss plans.  The sharp rocks chafe their boots, and every few hundred feet so a geyser goes off nearby.   The air reeks of sulfur.

 “This place stinks… literally,” says Ernie.

 “I like the smell of sulfur,” says Aravis.

“You’re an alchemist,” Grey Wolf says.  “It’s a survival trait.”

An hour into their march they spy  movement on a far-off hilltop valley.

“I hope whatever that is comes and tries to kill us,” growls Dranko.  “I’m in that kind of mood.”

Whatever they are, they’re getting closer.   Soon they're near enough for Dranko to see them more clearly; there are about a dozen short green-skinned creatures, their overlong arms dragging on the ground.  They are babbling and gibbering in a strange tongue, and moving to intercept.  The wizards get ready to blast away, but when the pack of demons gets within a hundred feet, one of them starts wailing more loudly and points at the Company.  A second later the whole pack turns tail and flees, raising a crazy ruckus.

Soon after that the rocky ground slowly gives way to a muddy swamp.  Ernie flies ahead and figures it will be faster for him to ferry his friends across one at a time.  Twenty minutes later the bog is behind them and they continue onward.  For four more hours they march, and though they occasionally spot what they assume are demons in the distance, nothing comes to mess with them.  The only vegetation they’ve seen in all this time is a field of tough thorn bushes, and the only animals are black birds wheeling high overhead.  Finally they spy a speck of blue in the distance, and half an hour later are ready to move through the next Way.

Consensus is that Srapa’s probably not right on the other side, so Aravis shouldn’t _mass haste_ everyone beforehand.   Tense and anxious they go through, and upon arrival immediately sink a foot into a revolting reddish-brown mud.  The air here is thick and acrid, and the pervading chaos and evil are just a tad more unsettling..  A hundred yards away, though a thick haze, is another glowing blue Way.  There’s no sign of anyone or anything else in this place.

Nothing else for it; they slog through the sucking mud.  Soon all of them are stained from the knees down (except for Ernie, who’s smeared up to his waist).  As they near the far Way, something like a black snake briefly surfaces before diving back into the mud.  A moment later Grey Wolf feels something wrap around his ankle.

“Aaaaaahhhhhh!”  He lift his foot slowly out of the mud so the rest of the party can see the snake-like creature twined around his lower leg.  Dranko lashes it with his whip and the creature pops like a pustule, spraying green ichor.  The rest of the snake-thing slithers back into the mud and isn’t seen again.

“Grab it, it’s good eatin’!” exclaims Dranko.  No one laughs, but he gets a few “eww!” looks.

Before going through the Way out of the mud, Morningstar and Kibi decide to fill up some empty spell slots, just in case.  Morningstar adds _dimensional anchor_ to her repertoire, and Kibi prepares a _Mordenkainen’s lucubration._

The next Demon Slice is dark.  The ground is a featureless shiny black, a flat field of dark glassy rock.  The only light comes from a large red moon overhead.   There is no wind, and a piece of parchment sits on the ground not far away.  Kibi cast _comprehend languages_, to read the single word thereon:  “wait.”

Morningstar blankets the area around the note with _thought captures_, and is surprised to pick up no thoughts at all.  This makes the wizards suspect that the lizard-man is protected by a _mind blank_ spell.  Heavy stuff!  Morningstar then (hoping to get lucky) casts _locate object_ on “Flicker’s boots.”  Nothing.  Dranko casts _detect magic_ and moves out in a spiral pattern, thinking he may detect a nearby _rope trick_.  Nothing.

So, waiting it is.

Aravis casts a pair of _rope tricks_ above and behind the Way, and the Company rests inside them, taking turns peeking out and dangling the _divination sink_ out of one.  All the rest of the “day” they spend there, before falling asleep for another eight hours.  

While eating a cold breakfast inside his extra-dimensional space, Kibi receives a _sending_.

_*Turn left thirty degrees, go twenty miles, go through the middle Way.  Beware demons.  Dress warmly beyond.  If trouble strikes, I will aid you.*_

He doesn’t respond.  Outside the _rope tricks_ it is still night, and the red moon has moved only slightly in the sky.  Kibi renews his _nondetection_ and Morningstar gets the whole Company with a pair of _wind walks_.  Off they fly, following Srapa’s most recent instructions.

It’s a short flight, moving as they are at sixty miles per hour.  A hundred feet below them the smooth black ground spreads in all directions as far as any of them can see, unblemished by hill, valley or any other feature.  There are packs of demons roaming the plain, all (fortunately) seen at a great distance.   They pass over one blue Way that comes too soon to be the one Srapa indicated; a gang of half a dozen demons, led by a towering 12’-tall red beast with huge bat wings, is headed for it.  They leave it be.  Later they pass almost directly over a huge demonic melee in which about twenty demons of varying sorts are casting spells and tearing each other to pieces.  

The leave that, too.

“You know,” says Dranko as they continue to fly, “when Califax told me that if I didn’t behave, that when I died I’d go to hell and demons would devour my soul… I thought he was kidding!”

Aravis decides this isn’t the time to explain the difference between Hell and the Abyss.  Half an hour later they spot a cluster of five Ways, arranged in a ragged line.  The second from the left is gray, the others a familiar blue.

This seems like their big chance to catch Srapa, since if he’s in a position close enough to help them fight off demons, he may be near enough by to spot and attack.  Everyone gets an _endure elements_ to ward off the cold,  various other buffing spells are applied, and Aravis and Ernie cast _true seeing_.  They all step through…


* *

Srapa came from a hot country his people called Sthist, and his fame there as a skilled wizard was well known.   He was a great reader of books (unusual among the lizard-folk) and his intellect was keen, but his spiritual well-being was of paramount importance to him.  To this end, six times in a year he would go on walkabout through the pleasant swamps and marshes of the southlands.  An immersion in nature provided him a balance to his weeks of magical study (and incidentally was a fine source of spell components).  It was on such a walkabout that a piece of Sthist approximately three quarters of a mile on a side was torn away from the rest, leaving Srapa isolated with only swamp otters and mosquitoes for company.  

It didn’t occur to Srapa to panic, or think that his prison had anything to do with him personally.  He had no enemies among his people, and among the foreign peoples that might bear him ill-will, none had the means to create such a place.  For several days he explored the boundaries of his Slice, cast divinations on the bright blue Way, and asked the otters what they thought was happening.  His attempts to escape with _plane shift_ and _teleport_ met with failure.  He gave it a week more, to see if it would pass.  The otters cared little as long as there were fish to eat.  At last he shouldered his pack and stepped through the Way, having decided it would probably take him somewhere interesting and maybe closer to home.

Srapa was lucky that day.  He found himself in a tiny nondescript Slice with two other Ways out, standing side by side.  The one on the left led to a para-elemental plane filled with magma, but he chose the one on the right, which merely took him to one of the outer Demon Slices.  He could hide from demons.

For months he moved about through the Slices, dodging (and occasionally fighting) the Abyssal denizens.  By staying invisible, undetectable and _mind blanked_, we was able to listen to the demons converse, and he learned where the Ways were that led out of these pieces of the Abyss.  So it was that he found more hospitable lands, and soon after, the magnificent castle of the Lord of the Roses.  

Ah, the Lord of the Roses!  From the moment Srapa stood before him, he knew he had found his savior.  The Lord could not be seen, surrounded as he was by a blinding light, but his majestic thoughts and wishes resounded in Srapa’s mind like trumpets of glory.  Srapa humbled himself before the Lord of the Roses, and the Lord was kind to him, and fed him, and gave him lodging and happiness and a new purpose.   After some time had passed, the Lord of the Roses called the lizard-man before him, and set for him a quest of vital import.  

“There is a way we can be free of this strange prison,” said the Lord.  “But I need someone, someone who has recently arrived in a far-off cell.  He is a dwarf, named Kibilhathur Bimson.   Bring him to me, unharmed.  If he wishes to bring his companions, bring them as well, also unharmed.   I will put in your mind how to reach him.  You are powerful and clever.  Find a way to get him here, willingly if possible, but that is not necessary.   Do not cast spells upon the dwarf himself, or upon his familiar, who is an earth elemental.  Bring Kibilhathur Bimson to me, as soon as you can.”

“But massster,” said Srapa.  “How will I know what Kibilhathur Bimsssson looks like?”

“Put out your hand.”

Srapa did so, and in it appeared a small wooden statuette of a dwarf, cunningly carved.  

“That is his likeness.  There must be no mistake.  You will not fail me.”

So, back through the Demon Slices went Srapa of Sthist, hiding from the natives as well as he could.  It was weeks of slow travel, but his path led through Slices sparsely populated, and ever in his mind was the route to take through the maze of Ways.   At last he arrived into the Slice containing the Eye of the Storm, and there he found his quarry, as the Lord of the Roses said he would. 

Srapa was surprised when Kibilhathur Bimson didn’t assent to the summons right away, but he reminded himself that the dwarf had not experienced the Lord of the Roses’ glory firsthand.   Furthermore, it seemed that he had competition for Kibilhathur – there were others who wanted the dwarf  to go elsewhere.   So Srapa observed him and his friends for two weeks and decided he could take no chances.  After all, the Lord of the Roses said he would not fail.  He kidnapped the easiest prey from among Kibilhathur’s companions, knowing that his friends would not abandon him.  After that, there were only the logistics of _sendings_ and _teleports_ and such to work out, and he could lead them back through safely, one Slice at a time, to the castle.  Then he would let Flicker Proudfoot go, and deliver Kibilhathur Bimson to the Lord of the Roses as promised.

There was only one potential trouble spot.   A necessary Way opened into an icy Demon Slice that was thick with dangerous frost-demons.   They would need to travel down a narrow mountain path in a strong, cold wind; their tactical position would be poor if the frost-demons attacked.   Srapa knew that he would have to keep close, ready to assist Kibilhathur and his friends if there was an attack.   But he also need to be prepared to escape, should his charges turn on him.   The Lord of the Roses had made it clear that Kibilhathur Bimson, at the very least, must not come to harm.


* *  

Thus it was that when the Company came through the Way onto the icy mountain, Srapa was high above them, _invisible_, _mind blanked_, _flying_ and (in case of emergency) _levitating_.  He had _true seeing_ activated and was staying at the edge of its range, a hundred feet off the ground, just low enough that he could see the Company even if they were invisible.  He had an arsenal of _empowered fireballs_ at the ready, in case the frost-demons attacked.  (He had seen a pack of them a few hundred feet down the mountain path – combat seemed inevitable).  And he had escape plans.  _Teleports_.  _Dimension door_.  Even a _limited wish_ if things got really hairy.  He was as ready as he could be…


* *


A strong wind greets the Company as they emerge, though they are shielded from the cold by their spells.  Beneath their feet is hard, crunchy ice.  They are standing on a ledge-track on a frozen mountainside – on their left the mountain rises steeply , and on their right is a precipitous drop of unknown length.   A few feet in front of them is an arrow made of black liquid poured onto the snow.  It indicates downward.   Morningstar realizes that the strong wind and swirling snow may make _wind walking_ as tough a proposition as just hiking down the icy track.

Ernie and Aravis spend a moment looking around in all directions with _true seeing_.  Aravis sees nothing in such limited visibility, but…

“Guys, guys! shouts Ernie.  “Magic!  Up there!”

They all look upward.  Most of the party sees nothing, but Aravis sees what Ernie has already noticed: a vague humanoid form barely visible through the blowing snow.  It glows with enchantment.  High up, Srapa sees right away that he’s been spotted, and decides he should fly upward out of range.   He knows he won’t be able to see the party if he gets much higher, but he’ll hear the sounds of battle should it come to that.  

Ernie sees the magical form start to rise upward, but before it vanishes from his (true) sight, he raises his hand and casts a spell.  A green ray springs from his finger and strikes true.  Srapa is _dimensionally anchored_, and now glowing a bright emerald-green.

“Target,” whispers Grey Wolf to himself.

Morningstar, keeping her priorities in mind, casts _locate object_ on Flicker’s boots, but again she detects nothing.  Everyone else who can takes a shot at the lizard-man.  Dranko slings magical bullets and hits twice, once critically.  Kibi peppers him with _magic missiles_.  Grey Wolf nails him with _enervation_.  (Good bye _limited wish_ and _spell turning_).  Snokas pegs him with an  arrow.   And Aravis, taking a guess at the spells on Srapa, casts a _greater dispelling_ targeting the _fly_ spell on the lizard man.  He wins the contested battle of magical power, and the _fly_ spell is gone.  

Left with only his _levitate_ keeping him up, Srapa is blown downward by the gusting winds, slightly closer to the Company.  He recognizes the green glow of the _dimensional anchor_ and knows he cannot _teleport_ away until he gets rid of it.  Seriously wounded, his thoughts are now only of escape.  If only the cursed winds had blown him upward and out of sight of his attackers’ _true seeing_ spells…

He _dispels_ the _anchor_, and prepares to _teleport_ away.  He knows this will give the Company a few more seconds to launch attacks, but the only spell that could have saved him in one round, _limited wish_, is now drained from his mind.  His only hope is that Kibi and his friends won’t want to kill him while he still has Flicker captive.

Ernie casts _flame strike_.   The natural effects of the plane dim its effects somewhat but Srapa still finds it painful.  If he can only survive a few more seconds…

“Got him!” yells Ernie.  “Morningstar, did you see where I targeted?  He’s still right there!”

Morningstar squints up into the bright white sky.  Any other sister of Ell would be blinded, but Morningstar’s vision is clear.  She can even make out a small wisp of smoke rising from the hovering creature.

And Ellish _flame strikes_, delivering cold damage instead of fire, turn out to magnified by the plane.  

Whoomph!

There’s a terrible cry on the wind.   Srapa’s body appears and instantly plummets.  It bounces off the mountain side and falls away downward and out of sight.  Dranko gets a _fly_ spell from one of the party wizards and flies downward to retrieve the body.  The wind is still strong and makes the going difficult.  There are jagged stalagmites of ice and shattered, stubby evergreens jutting up at angles from the rocky face of the mountain.  Dranko does his best to avoid getting blown into them.

He only spots Srapa’s body because of the blood.   The lizard-man is impaled on a snapped-off pine tree that’s poking up through the ice, having fallen over two hundred feet.  Dranko picks up Srapa’s staff, searches briefly for other belongings, and then sets about prizing the body off its stake.  It’s a chore, since the body has slid past downward-pointing branches, and the blood is already starting to freeze.  Finally the corpse wrenches free with a gruesome tearing sound; fresh blood gouts out, spilling onto Dranko.

 “Flicker, I’m doing this for you.  There’s no _treasure_ worth this, that’s for sure.”

Despite his anger, Dranko gives the body a _post-mortem_ shriving and says brief last rites, then hauls the body back up to the others.  Once he has dropped off the corpse, he flies Morningstar up to where Srapa had been hovering so she can cast more _thought captures_.  Again, nothing, except a stray though or two from Dranko.  Not wishing to stay here longer, they return through the Way to the Slice of black glass before searching the body for clues to Flicker’s whereabouts.

There are numerous magic items on the body of the lizard-man wizard.   His staff is magical, as is an amulet, a headband, a golden ring, some scrolls in tubes, and two large sapphires.  One of these last two is glowing conspicuously, and has something written on it in foreign characters.  Kibi casts _comprehend languages_ and announces it’s Flicker’s name scratched into the gem.  Aravis peers closely at the sapphire with his _true seeing_ and sees a tiny indistinct form in its center.

“Break it!” yells Ernie.  “Get him out!  Get him out!  Is he dead?  Is he hurt?”

“He’s inside a giant sapphire,” says Dranko.  “He probably thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.” 

…to be continued…


----------



## thatdarncat

uh oh... 

they just killed their guide AND the only help they had. Not good


----------



## Fimmtiu

thatdarncat said:
			
		

> uh oh...
> 
> they just killed their guide AND the only help they had. Not good




Actually, it seems pretty good to me. Magical loot, one fewer name on the asskicking list, they have Flicker back, they can probably retrace their steps to the Inn, _and_ they've given those frost-demons the laugh entirely. Not bad at all!

Man, if Srapa had only used _see invisibility_ instead of _true seeing_, he might have made it. Tsk, tsk.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Hmmm, good stuff, but they haven't actually gotten Flicker out yet.  BTW, what was Flickers player doing during that game?


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## Redwald

Jackylhunter said:
			
		

> Hmmm, good stuff, but they haven't actually gotten Flicker out yet.  BTW, what was Flickers player doing during that game?




IIRC, both Flicker and One Certain Step are NPCs.


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## shilsen

So was this one of those "I didn't think they'd pull it off" DM moments?


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## Len

Jackylhunter said:
			
		

> Hmmm, good stuff, but they haven't actually gotten Flicker out yet.



If it's _trap the soul_ they just have to smash the gem.

Hey, but: 







			
				SRD said:
			
		

> If the trapped creature is a powerful creature from another plane it can be required to perform a service immediately upon being freed.



Well, Flicker's not from whatever demonic plane they're on now.

"Carry my bags until we get out of these darn Slices."


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## shadowthorn

Sagiro,

I've been a long-time reader of your story hour, and I'd like to add my applause to the general acclaim: Bravo!

One of the items in your campaign that fascinates me the most is the Crosser's Maze. I don't know if you've revealed all of it's powers to your PCs, but if you have the stats for that item, do you mind emailing them to me? My email is shadowthorn69@hotmail.com. Thanks.


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## Plane Sailing

Fimmtiu said:
			
		

> Man, if Srapa had only used _see invisibility_ instead of _true seeing_, he might have made it. Tsk, tsk.




Agreed, the cold must have been numbing his brain to have not gone for _See Invisibility_. True Seeing has too short a range & too short a duration to be worth using in most cases. It was definitely bad luck to be tagged by the enervation and lose two top spells - it shows the value of Greater Globe of Invulnerability in that kind of situation which would have stopped both of those killer attacks cold (GGoI is often overlooked, unfortunately)

It is interesting that Srapa didn't seem like a _bad _person. After all, he could probably have trapped Kibi's soul and fled back with him if he hadn't been otherwise constrained. It was only his decision to be on hand to help against frost demons that led to him being attacked and killed at this point.

Bad luck, Srapa.


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## Lord Pendragon

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> It is interesting that Srapa didn't seem like a _bad _person. After all, he could probably have trapped Kibi's soul and fled back with him if he hadn't been otherwise constrained. It was only his decision to be on hand to help against frost demons that led to him being attacked and killed at this point.



Well, some people would probably consider using _Trap the Soul_ against someone to be _harming_ them.  Something the Lord of the Roses specifically forbade.

I agree about Srapa not being evil, though.  Nothing so far has indicated that either the Lord of the Roses _or_ the monks are evilly-inclined.  They are just both in dire need of Kibi's services...and willing to go to any lengths (it seems) to secure them.


----------



## Sagiro

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> Agreed, the cold must have been numbing his brain to have not gone for _See Invisibility_. True Seeing has too short a range & too short a duration to be worth using in most cases...




I don't want to start a long debate on Srapa's tactics, which clearly didn't work out so well for him.  But regarding the above:  Srapa's height above the party was also constrained by simple visibility through the blowing snow.  Given that he had to stay relatively low just to see the ground, _true seeing_ was a better option, being a superset of _see invisibility_ functionally.

(And, as a side-note, Srapa was no tactical genius regardless.  And as a side-side note, neither am I.  )

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

shadowthorn said:
			
		

> Sagiro,
> 
> I've been a long-time reader of your story hour, and I'd like to add my applause to the general acclaim: Bravo!
> 
> One of the items in your campaign that fascinates me the most is the Crosser's Maze. I don't know if you've revealed all of it's powers to your PCs, but if you have the stats for that item, do you mind emailing them to me? My email is shadowthorn69@hotmail.com. Thanks.




Shadowthorn, I'm afraid I cannot oblige; there _are_ no stats for the Crosser's Maze, and deliberately so.  I have a general idea of the sorts of things you can do with it, but there are few hard and fast rules governing its use.  By reading the Story Hour so far, you know about as much about it as I do! (If you follow the link at the start of this thread, and go to chapter 9 of StevenAC's compilation, you can find the best description I have of how it all works.)

To sum up what is known: it allows the possessor to:

1. Focus voluntarily-given life energy from nearby beings, in order to deconstruct, reconstruct or reinforce planar fabric.

2. View macroscopic features of the multiverse, as if one were looking at a huge 3-D atlas of everything with full pan and zoom

3. Explore the "Inner Maze," a parallel/reflected/illusionary/recreated/semi-real/who-the-heck-knows equivalent of the multiverse in which former Keepers have often built themselves lasting abodes.

Aravis also has used the Maze as a chisel to break apart the artificial tethers that were binding the Prime planes of Volpos and Abernia together.  A variant on use #1 above, really.

-Sagiro


----------



## shadowthorn

Thanks for the info, Sagiro! I can understand why there are no stats for this sucker.


----------



## Seule

This story continues to compel.  It's still a great example of epic-style play as opposed to epic-level play.  Well done.

  --Seule


----------



## Sagiro

I don't know how many readers this will effect, but I should point it out regardless: a few months back I discovered a missing chapter from this Story Hour thread.  It's way back on page 3 (Post #46, I think) -- a chunk of narrative right before the Company has its big fight with Mokad at Black Circle Ground Zero.  I don't know what happened to it, but last night I appended that chapter to the previous one, in the same post.

If you've been using StevenAC's compilation, you didn't miss anything. (In fact, that's where I went to recover the missing text!)  And since I don't know when the post vanished, it's likely that most people reading here didn't miss anything, either.  But in case you did, well, now it's back.  It's a pretty noticeable omission, in that (among other things) it sets up the entire visual layout of the Black Circle ritual chamber before the final confrontation.

-Sagiro


----------



## StevenAC

Sagiro said:
			
		

> I don't know how many readers this will effect, but I should point it out regardless: a few months back I discovered a missing chapter from this Story Hour thread.  It's way back on page 3 (Post #46, I think) -- a chunk of narrative right before the Company has its big fight with Mokad at Black Circle Ground Zero.  I don't know what happened to it, but last night I appended that chapter to the previous one, in the same post.
> 
> If you've been using StevenAC's compilation, you didn't miss anything. (In fact, that's where I went to recover the missing text!)  And since I don't know when the post vanished, it's likely that most people reading here didn't miss anything, either.  But in case you did, well, now it's back.  It's a pretty noticeable omission, in that (among other things) it sets up the entire visual layout of the Black Circle ritual chamber before the final confrontation.



It's been missing at least since November last year -- I posted about it (see post #920) in reply to someone's query about the early parts of the thread seeming to go a bit strange.  However, you probably never saw it, since you were gallivanting around in New Zealand at the time...


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 218*_
*A Toe in the Water.  Also the Earth, Air and Fire.*

The Company casts _shrink item_ and _gentle repose_ on Srapa’s body, folds it up, and stows it in a pack for later questioning.  Getting back to the Eye of the Storm is a simple logistical matter, mostly of _wind walks_ and _teleports_.  Before the day is out they are emerging into the netted enclosure around the Way in/out of the Demon Slices.

“Hello!  We’re back!” calls Grey Wolf.

“Not demons!” adds Ernie.

Back at the Inn, Horny is the first to greet them.  “You get him?” he asks.

Dranko pulls out the sapphire and holds it up to the light.

“What’s that?” asks the minotaur.

“That’s Flicker.  He’s trapped inside this gem.”

“Oh, well, yeah, I’m glad you got him back, but what I really meant was, did you get the bastard who kidnapped him?”

“Yeah,” says Morningstar.  Kibi pulls out the body of Srapa, folded up in its cloth-like state.

“That’s just a piece of cloth painted like a lizard,” says Horny, scratching his head.  “It’s neat, but I meant the actual guy who kidnapped your friend.”

Slightly affronted, Kibi dismisses the _shrink item_ spell, and there’s the shrunken body of Srapa lying on the table. 

“That’s disgusting!” exclaims Horny.

“Well, you didn’t believe me,” complains Kibi.

“So that cloth thing _was_ the body!”

“Still is,” points out Grey Wolf.

“Magic is wonderful and glorious thing,” says Dranko.  “Can we get on with it? Who around here has a hammer and an anvil?”

* *

The Company adjourns to a smithy in a distant wing of the Inn.   With permission from the blacksmith there, Ernie borrows tongs while Dranko lays down a blanket around the anvil to catch any salvageable shards.  Then Dranko fishes out the sapphire and lays it on the anvil.  As Ernie holds it steady with the tongs, Dranko hefts a hammer.

“What are you doing?” asks the Smith.  “That’s a big gem.  Why you breakin’ it?”

“It’s magic,” says Dranko.  “Our friend’s trapped inside it.”

Not for much longer!  Dranko smashes the gem with the hammer, basically pulverizing it into powder.  There’s a puff of blue smoke, and then there’s Flicker, lying face up, arched uncomfortably over the anvil.  Dranko impishly raises the hammer again as if to strike another blow, while Ernie grabs Flicker’s nose with the tongs.

Nasally, Flicker shouts in alarm.  “Dranko!  Don’t hit me!  Ernie!  What’s going on?  Let go with those tongs!  Ow! Ow!”

“Have you learned your lesson about taking gems from random strangers?” says Ernie, his voice a shrill reprimand.

Flicker blinks confusedly.  “She just wanted to know how much it was worth.”

Ernie pauses for a moment and lets go with the tongs.  “You did _know_ you were trapped inside the gem, right?”

“I kinda guessed,” says Flicker.  “Everything was all blue.”

Drank clears his throat.  “Flicker?  I’m not going to yell at you for taking a gem from a stranger.  And I’m not going to yell at you for making us chase lizard boy across the demon slices to get you back, or involving us in a horrible fight in mid-air in the middle of a snowstorm.  I’ll just say this:  the gem I had to break to get you out was worth _fifteen thousand gold pieces._

Flicker blinks again.  “Lizard boy?”  

Then:  “You couldn’t get me out with breaking it?”

“That’s how it works,” says Grey Wolf.

“I considered selling you, then stealing you back later and freeing you then,” admits Dranko.

“Good thinking,” agrees Flicker.  “You should have done that!  Why didn’t you?”

“You know, the others would have had a bunch of stupid moral objections…”

“Well,” says Flicker, “You would have had to tell…”

Ernie grabs Flicker’s nose with the tongs again.  “Flicker, you ungrateful little…”

“Ow!  Let go!  That hurts!”

“I don’t know,” says Ernie.  “I’m starting to like this.  You are quite possibly the most muddle-headed Halfling I ever knew!”

Flicker grows angry himself, and grabs the tongs away.  “Why are you all getting on my case?  If someone you didn’t know walked up to you, showed you a wound, said ‘I’m really hurt,’ and asked you for healing, wouldn’t you do it?”

Ernie is taken aback.  “Well, yeah, I suppose I…”

“Or would you ask a lot of questions first and get all paranoid?  No, you’d heal them!”  Flicker’s face is bright red.  ”And it wasn’t the lizard guy!  It was some woman.  A human woman.”

“It was Srapa,” says Dranko.  “He disguised himself to trick you.”

“Well, still…” says Flicker, hands on his hips.  “She…he… just came up to me and said, hey, I hear you know a lot about gems.  I said, yeah, I’m pretty good, and she said, well, I found this one, and if you appraise it for me, I’ll give you a cut when I sell it.  Why would I not have?  I took the gem from her, and the next thing I knew, everything was all blue.”

“All right, all right, I guess you’re right,” says Ernie with a sigh.  “I was just worried about you.”

Morningstar steps forward and puts a hand on Flicker’s shoulder.  “Ok.  I admit that in this particular instance, what you did wasn’t…well, anyway, the next time you go out training, I want to put you in a _telepathic bond._  You don’t have to talk to me.  You can pretend I’m not there.   But that way if people walk up to you and offer things, we’ll at least know who you were talking to, and where you were last.”

“Don’t think I’m not grateful to you for chasing Srapa through the Demon Slices,” says Flicker.  “What happened to him, anyway?”

“He’s dead,” says Dranko.  “Nothing more to worry about.  We don’t know that he was evil, but we know he felt it was okay to kidnap you, and he wouldn’t give you back unless we followed him all the way to the Lord of the Roses.  I’m glad you’re back, Flicker.  We missed you.”

“Gosh.  Thanks.”

No one says anything for a minute.  Then Flicker says, “You know, it was pretty cool in there.”

“Did you see Dranko’s nose right up close, really really big?” asks Ernie.

“Thankfully, no.”

“What did it taste like?” asks Dranko.

“I don’t know.  I didn’t lick it.  If you want to find out, get Aravis to magic _you_ into a gem.  That is, if you don’t mind us cracking open another 15,000 G.P sapphire to get you out.”


* *


Flicker’s kidnapping has only strengthened the Company’s desire to go into Chaos, rather than pay a visit to this Lord of the Roses character.  (Only Flicker and Dranko now have misgivings, thinking that wherever Srapa came from, maybe valuable sapphires grow like cabbages.).  But before they go, they spend an afternoon identifying the magical loot taken from Srapa’s body.

Kibi comes away with a _staff of abjuration_, an _amulet of proof vs. scrying and detection_, and a scroll with some arcane spells.  Dranko takes a gold ring that makes the wearer and everything on him immune to the _detect magic_ spell.   Grey Wolf upgrades to a _headband of intellect +4_, giving his old +2 version to Morningstar.   One Certain Step takes _boots of levitation_.  (Ernie:  “I’m not wearing them.  I can’t dance!  *>>bonus points if you recall the reference*)  And Aravis gets a pair of higher-powered scrolls with _true seeing, prismatic spray, protection from spells, and mind blank_.  

There are also some spellbooks (which the wizards mostly don’t fight over) and a handful of unfamiliar coins.  And, of course, a hugely valuable sapphire.  Flicker spends plenty of time examining it, and is pretty sure his estimate of 15,000 G.P is accurate.  That leads to a quick review of all the party treasure, at the end of which Kibi whistles.

“Wow… so that sapphire is the single most valuable piece of non-magical treasure we have.”

“That’s right,” says Dranko.

“I’ll carry it,” says Flicker.

Everyone looks at him skeptically, and Dranko puts out his hand.

“Why not?” complains Flicker.

“You had one, and you squandered it,” says Dranko, smirking.

“I didn’t squander it!” Flicker protests.  “In fact, if it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t even have the one we have.  It’s true! Think about it!  I mean, if the lizard guy hadn’t kidnapped me… thanks to me, we have 15,000 G.P gem!”  Flicker drops it into a pouch, and ten seconds later Dranko has picked his pocket.

Morningstar calls the two rogues over to her, and gives them both _refuge_ tokens she’s crafted during training.  

“To use one of these, break it while saying the password: ‘don’t lick it.’  That will cause me to _teleport_ to wherever you are, as long as we’re on the same plane.  It’s basically _”summon Morningstar”_.

“Cool!” exclaims Flicker.  “Can we try it out?”

“You can only use it once, so no.  And it cost me 1500 G.P to make.”

“That’s only 10% of the cost of the sapphire Dranko just stole from me,” points out Flicker.

“And don’t lose it,” continues Morningstar.  “If someone else finds it and _identifies_ it, _they_ could summon me.”


* *


The next morning Morningstar casts _speak with dead_ on Srapa’s corpse, but the spell fails.  There’s much debate afterward on whether or not they should carry the lizard-man’s body around for another week in order to try again.  Most are in favor, though the thought makes Ernie and Step uncomfortable.  Snokas snorts, “I feel bad about the body, but not _that_ bad.  The guy kidnapped Flicker!”

“We can just bless the body before we pack it away again,” Flicker adds, supporting the idea.  “Heck, we could get a box, bless _that_, and keep the body folded up inside.  Then we wouldn't feel as guilty.”

“You’re attempting to finesse,” accuses Step.

“If we’re carrying around unburied bodies, we _should_ feel guilty about it!” cries Ernie.  But the corpse-carrying advocates win the day; Kibi casts _shrink item_ again, folds up the body, and stows it.

With nothing left to do, the Company bids a fond farewell to the Eye of the Storm and their hosts before marching out to their chosen Way.   The Way itself is not heavily guarded, since no one has come out of it for years.  There’s a gnome in charge of the defense today, with about a dozen others lounging around.

“You leavin’?” asks the gnome.  “Through here?  You know where it goes, right?  Straight into Chaos.”

“Yeah, we know,” says Dranko.

“It’s not like the Demon Slices,” says the gnome.  “No mild buffer Slices.  You’re just dumped right in.”

Kibi takes out the Stabilizer and examines it, then reads the note that came with it.  There are no instructions.  After a bit more debate the Company ties a rope around Kibi’s waist.  The plan is for him to go in alone and try to stabilize the Chaos, just to see if it works.  They’ll pull him out again after thirty seconds no matter what, in case something goes horribly awry.  Kibi gets a battery of buffing spells and puts on his _helm of water breathing._

“And watch out for Slubs,” warns Morningstar.

“Slaad.  It’s Slaad,” corrects Aravis.

“Whatever,” says Morningstar.  “Big frog guys.”

“Here I go!” says Kibi.  “Got my Stabilizer.  My safety rope.  My helmet.  My familiar.  All set.”

“If you don’t survive this…”  Dranko starts, but Kibi has jumped through,

There’s the familiar black void, pulling him through to the next Slice.  Seconds later he is ejected…

It’s wet!  Kibi finds himself completely immersed, with nothing solid beneath his feet, but able to breath because of his helmet.  It’s generally dark, though he can make out some details with his darkvision, and there are flashes of reddish light off to one side, illuminating the water in bursts.  Some strange-looking fish swim near his feet.  A large boulder rolls slowly through the water some fifteen feet away, trailing air bubbles as it tumbles.  

Kibi notices that while he feels no gravity, he’s getting pulled slowly along by a current.   A few seconds later he stops, as his friends notice the rope paying out and grab it to stop whatever’s pulling him.   He looks around one more time, grasps the stabilizer and concentrates, trying to make himself an enclosed room.  The water agitates and swiftly transmutes to a cube of air around him, while a stone slab forms beneath his feet.  He continues to float, hovering above his new floor, until he imagines gravity.  He drops.  He tries to imagine walls, and though he only gets about four feet high all around, it feels like a moderate success.  He’s stabilized the elements out to about fifteen feet, creating a pocket of air that ends in a wall of water still sliding past.   That tells him his fixed region of Chaos is just that – fixed in space, while the rest of Chaos surges around him.  Somewhere (presumably) beyond the water, a fireball streaks past, lightning up the liquid with an orange glow.  

His time is almost up.  The Way in, also fixed in the Chaos, is up near the top of his airy sanctuary.   He changes his gravity so that he falls upward toward it, popping out at a jaunty angle and falling onto the ground.  The rest of the party stares at his dripping body.

“Well, that was interesting,” he says.

…to be continued…


----------



## Jackylhunter

That is just so Cool...=)


----------



## Len

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “And don’t lose it,” continues Morningstar.  “If someone else finds it and _identifies_ it, _they_ could summon me.”



And you just gave one to an NPC.


----------



## Fade

Cool. Updatey goodness.


----------



## porthos

Sagiro said:
			
		

> _*Sagiro challenges:*_
> (Ernie:  “I’m not wearing them.  I can’t dance!"  *>>bonus points if you recall the reference*)





Hmmm... the only thing close I can come up with is Captain Feathersword of The Wiggles. He loses his piratey hat and can't dance anymore. I believe Wags the Dog makes him a new one. Yes?


----------



## Plane Sailing

Sagiro said:
			
		

> One Certain Step takes boots of levitation. (Ernie: “I’m not wearing them. I can’t dance! >>bonus points if you recall the reference)




My only thought was that one of the original D&D cursed items appeared like boots of levitation but once you put them on you couldn't stop dancing and because of the curse you couldn't take them off. A sort of self inflicted precursor to Ottos Irrisistable Dance if you will.

I wonder if that is it?


----------



## Piratecat

Give you a hint: anyone remember Sagiro's "death," way back when?

http://home.comcast.net/~dorian.hart/diary41-50.html#Run42


----------



## Nyarlathotep

Bump, because I could not find this anywhere (except via search)


----------



## Plane Sailing

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Give you a hint: anyone remember Sagiro's "death," way back when?
> 
> http://home.comcast.net/~dorian.hart/diary41-50.html#Run42





He shoots! He scores! The crowd goes wild!


----------



## Piratecat

I just got back from a weekend canoe trip with Sagiro, Kodiak and KidCthulhu. It was a glorious weekend, but one with no access to a computer for Sagiro to write with.  He's transcribed the tape for the next update, and is part way through actually turning it into prose.


----------



## Sagiro

(A short update.  It's late and I'm tired and there's bound to be typos; for that I apologize.)

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 219*_
*Chaos*

Ernie is the first to speak.

“What happened?”

Kibi takes a deep breath and shakes some water from his beard.

“Well, I went through there and it was all wet, but I had my helmet so that was all right.  And there was fire, and a boulder rolling along, and there was no gravity, and there was a current, and then I started thinking about good solid ground under my feet, and air to breathe, and it worked!  And I thought about gravity, and that worked.  It was fine.  I had a nice little pocket of survivable space.  And then I figured I should come back out and tell you guys it was all good, and that we should go.”

Okay then. 

There’s a bit of discussion after that regarding the Stabilizer, and whether it’s specially tuned to Kibi, or if anyone can use it.

“Cause Morningstar has a whole lot more experience doing that sort of thing,” says Ernie.  “You know.  In Dream.”

“We should test it out with other people regardless,”   says Morningstar.  “In case Kibi goes unconscious for some reason.”

As a next step, Kibi goes back with Morningstar and Aravis, all anchored with ropes held by the others.  This time there is no water, just a fortuitous pocket of air in which they find themselves floating.  Kibi concentrates and instantiates a large rectangular stone floor a few inches below their feet, then imagines gravity to match.  He drops to the stone, and then the other two follow suit.

“Kibi, what’s that?  Up there,” thinks Scree to his master.  

Above them, a sheet (or maybe a block, it’s hard to tell) of flames is descending toward them.  It will be upon them in about ten seconds.  Kibi’s first attempt to make a ceiling fails; he gets some large pebbles which float loosely in the air.  Morningstar and Aravis also try and fail to create shelter.  But with a few seconds still to go, and the heat starting to beat at them, Kibi wills into existence walls and an arched ceiling to go with his floor.  (This creates something like a small hangar, a wide stone hallway open at both ends, with a round arched ceiling.)  They can hear the roaring of the flames as it breaks upon the stone enclosure, hear it all around them as they wait, holding their breaths, in their pocket of airy safety.  Then they _see_ the flames through the open ends of their hangar, sliding past and downward.   A minute later it has passed, and the three of them remain standing in Kibi’s enclosure, unharmed.  

Morningstar takes the Stabilizer to experiment.  She concentrates on changing Kibi’s dark stone to a lighter shade, and succeeds in altering it to a different type of stone altogether.    For her next trick she lowers the temperature around them by twenty degrees, and after that (to make sure magic is working properly) she casts _bulls’ strength_ on Kibi.  

A few seconds later (and unconnected to her efforts) a mass of water hits the hangar end-on; water tries to spray into Kibi’s air, and breaks into droplets, pelting them with sideways rain.  And a few seconds after _that_ their hangar is spun around as a large mass of earth and rock thumps into it from above.   Through the far open end of the hangar they see the rock pass by, and that it has a stand of huge trees growing out of it.   The ragged island drifts by, and after the treetops have slid past their field of vision, only empty air remains.

As a last experiment, Aravis casts a _rope trick_ and climbs up into it.   “Not chaotic in here,” he announces, sticking his head out.

“And it’s fixed in space,” notes Kibi.  And with that, the three of them exit the hangar, adjust their gravity, and fall into the Way leading back to the others.  (Kibi, having done it once before, slows himself at the last minute and manages to step out gracefully.  Aravis and Morningstar go sprawling on the grass.)  The three of them deliver a full report.

“This’ll be a piece of cake!” says Dranko.  “What could possibly go wrong?”

Ernie smacks him.

“Here’s a plan,” continues Dranko.  “We’ll all tie ourselves together with rope.  Morningstar can cast _find the path_ and set her personal gravity in that direction, while we all just float behind.  We’ll plummet at hundreds of miles per hour toward the next Way while Morningstar clears us a path by turning everything to air in front of us!”

The thing is, no one is quite sure if he’s kidding.  

“Er, except that you can only stabilize things in about a fifteen foot radius,” says Kibi.  “And it takes a few seconds to do.”

“Oh.  Well then,” says Dranko, disappointed.

“Hey!  Everything all right in there?” shouts one of the guards.   The locals who guard this Way have been watching, fascinated, as the Company has sent scouting parties into the Chaos.

“We’re still working out the details,” calls back Ernie.

“You go in yet?” asks the guard.

“We tried a couple of times, yeah,” says Ernie.

“It’s hell, ain’t it?” chuckles the guard.

“No, the Demon Slices are in hell,” says Dranko.  “This is more like formless chaos.”

Aravis, as usual, doesn’t bother correcting him.

“Well, don’t make anything in there mad enough to come out here,” says the guard.

Morningstar manages to get everyone coordinated, makes sure there’s planned redundancy in their stabilizing of the chaos, and points out that an attack could come from any direction.   Dranko oversees the ropes as they tie themselves together, and shows the others how best not to get tangled.   Right around the time Dranko starts to speculate on how they could swing the plate-mail-clad Ernie around like a flail using gravity tricks, Kibi declares that they’ve waited long enough, and that it’s time to go in.

They each experience the cold black pulling of the Ways, and then are deposited into the Chaos, and specifically into a roaring fire.  Morningstar, Flicker and Dranko avoid getting burned, and Kibi’s _energy buffer_ is triggered, but the others are somewhat burned.  Everyone immediately tries to recreate the immediate space into more friendly elements, and Kibi has the most success, reestablishing his hangar at a scale large enough to comfortably accommodate everyone.   Nearby fire and lightning illuminate the interior with an orange glow.   Hissing sounds fill the air as fire and water collide in the outside maelstrom, and these mix with the grinding sounds of stone on stone, blending into a dim cacophony.

When it’s clear that Kibi’s shelter is holding, Ernie tries to create chocolate chip cookies.  Unfortunately, cookies not being an element _per se_, it fails.  Dranko then tries to re-sculpt the stone into images of naked women.  That fails too, though no one (except Dranko) finds that unfortunate.  

The hangar is sound but rough, with a few ragged holes in the walls that turn out fortuitously to serve as windows.   Some of the party looks out of these, enjoying the light show.  Ernie’s too short to use any of the holes, so he walks to one of the open ends of the hangar and looks out.  He does a double-take, and squints.  It looks like something enormous is coming toward them.  It’s another block of dirt and rock, and it’s large enough that he can’t its full extent – only the leading edge, lit up here and there by (relatively) small flashes of fire and lightning.  He guesses it’s about a quarter mile across.

“Uh… guys?”

The others look out and see the problem.

“Just concentrate on air on the other side of our wall!” exclaims Dranko.

“Can’t I change its gravity?” cries Ernie.

“ No, that won’t work,” says Aravis calmly.

“Make a hole when it gets close enough!” says Morningstar

The gargantuan boulder drifts inexorably closer.   It’s not coming fast, but it won’t need to.  In the last few seconds before impact Ernie concentrates furiously on manifesting air in a fixed area relative to their own position, just outside their hangar.  The others do likewise.  Sure enough, when the rock mass reaches them, the continuously-generated air starts to carve out a divot, and it seems for a moment as if they’ll simply “tunnel” their way through.  But the chunk of earth is also rotating, and it’s simply much too big.    It collides with the hangar , but because of its rotation it doesn’t’ just push the Company along in front of it.  Instead, the hangar starts to rotate around its long axis and spin along the face of the huge boulder.   At first they each try to keep adjusting their own gravity to keep up with the floor, but after a few seconds no one can concentrate that well, and it becomes a nauseating minute-long exercise in trying to maintain equilibrium.  When the hangar finally skitters off the rounded edge of the boulder, and finishes revolving a minute later, everyone falls in a different direction.

“ My gut hasn’t felt like that since I was almost killed back by the Black Circle,” groans Grey Wolf.

“And I was about to say this was sort of fun…” says Morningstar, holding her stomach.

Flicker looks out one of the hangar’s open ends.   He sees the blue glow of the Way in, now well over 50’ away, and at a crazy angle relative to their new “down.”

Morningstar casts _find the path_ to the Monastery, but it’s not on the same Slice and so the spell fails.  She casts the spell a second time, this one to “the nearest Way that’s not the closest one,” and this gives her a direction to travel.  It’s down, directly through the floor of the hangar at its current pitch and yaw.

So now something else becomes evident.  The Company has no way to actually _move_ the hangar.  Rather, it has to be constantly remade in a new place.  Kibi tries to reform it facing the right direction, but he’s still queasy and can’t concentrate.  Everyone else tries, but only Grey Wolf, who has some experience with staying sharp while nauseated, is able to make it happen.  He reforms the hangar to face the desired direction, while everyone else has to constantly readjust their gravity to stay on the floor, and not fall into Grey Wolf’s newly formed walls.  Step looks as though he’s going to be sick.

“Just think about the floor,” suggests Ernie.

“I _am_ thinking about the floor,” says Step.  “That, and not throwing up.”

“Moving” the hangar now has to operate in the same way.  They have no way to physically propel the stone, so someone has to keep creating more tunnel ahead of them, in the direction they want to go.    Behind them, the tunnel they no longer need (and one which no one is concentrating) slowly gets eaten away by chaotic forces, crumbling into pebbles and rocks that float in the void or get blasted by other elements.  At one point, they watch as a huge fast-moving boulder smashes apart a length of tunnel left some 50’ behind them. 

“The place cleans itself up after us,” says Grey Wolf nervously.

 They consider other simpler structures, but the hangar provides cover from most directions, while they can keep a look out for trouble through cracks and holes in the walls.   Together they settle into a rhythm, moving their tunnel forward.  With several of them concentrating on the task, someone is always succeeding.  Still, it’s mentally draining.

Half an hour later the hangar lurches to one side and tilts, sending everyone scrambling to adjust their gravities.  They see a wall of water sliding past the edges of the hangar, and it starts to push its way in, spraying them with droplets.  The water mass soon passes, but it leaves a fish behind, hovering in midair at the far end of the hangar.  Ernie thinks it might make for a good meal, but when he reaches it he discovers that it has twelve eyes and six fins arrayed evenly around its body.

“Cool!” says Dranko.  “A Chaos Fish.  It’s adapted to the chaos!”

“And there are enough eyeballs for everyone,” says Grey Wolf.

“Someone can have my eyeball,” says Ernie, looking a bit queasy.

A few minutes later they see that they’re heading into a meteor shower of fireballs.  Worried about the structural integrity of the hangar, they halt their progress and wait for the shower to pass.  It lasts for a good fifteen minutes, a spectacular sight, thousands of fireballs streaking through the chaos, illuminating clods of earth, and colliding with water masses in hissing explosions of steam.

When the hail of fireballs has ceased, they continue their journey through the chaos, toward the Way out.   The next half an hour is (relatively) uneventful.  Then someone spies another huge chunk of earth tumbling through space, maybe three quarters of a mile off, generally in the direction they’re heading.  A large fortress has been built onto its surface; it sticks out of the top of the rock mass like a growth.   It’s hard to see detail since it’s only visible in brief flashes of fire or lightning, but it looks abandoned.   Aravis shares his belief that beings with enough experience can make semi-permanent structures in the chaos, that don’t need constant mental upkeep.   It’s a rare talent.

The rock with the tower is roughly spherical, about a hundred yards in diameter.  It’s swiveling as it moves, so that by the time they’ve closed to within a few hundred yards, the tower is pointing almost directly at them.   As the tower starts to drift past them, its boulder suddenly slows to a halt, and swivels to keep the tower pointed at them.  Morningstar keeps them moving, past the rock with its tower, and soon it moves out of easy sight, though they can still keep an eye on it through the “windows” in the walls.  

Grey Wolf is the first to see the smaller boulder.   A second chunk of rock, this one only about twenty feet in diameter, has detached itself from the tower rock and is tumbling toward them.  The whole Company moves to that side of the hangar to take a look.  

They can see creatures moving about on the smaller boulder, as it moves ever closer, and faster than they themselves can “move” their hangar.  

“Boarding party!” shouts Grey Wolf.


…to be continued…


----------



## Someone

Hmmm... Chaos pirates?


----------



## Dherys Thal

*Could it be...*

Monks?  It would sort of fit - some building with isolated order around it - who knows?


----------



## LightPhoenix

Someone said:
			
		

> Hmmm... Chaos pirates?



Screw Chaos pirates... Chaos Fish Attack!!!


----------



## Jackylhunter

How did we let this slip to the 3rd page...

BUMP


----------



## el-remmen

/me clears throat

Uh, update soon?

-- Pot Calling Kettle Spikey


----------



## KidCthulhu

Nemm, if you think that writing an update will pull Sagiro away from the nail biting, hair pulling tension that is watching the Red Sox/Yankees series, you are sadly mistaken.


----------



## dpdx

Sawx win! Sagiro, refreshed and inspired by the most incredible comeback in baseball history, and that over the Auld Enemy, writes an update!

Boston has to win the World Series - I couldn't take another HBO special about the Curse...


----------



## el-remmen

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Nemm, if you think that writing an update will pull Sagiro away from the nail biting, hair pulling tension that is watching the Red Sox/Yankees series, you are sadly mistaken.




He can write during the commercials.  It's what I do.

-- Baseball Fan (& Yankee Hater) Nemm


----------



## Wolfspirit

I say you are all nuts.  I just had a dinner theatre rehersal where the Director was refreshing his phone every few seconds to see what was going on *per pitch* on the Astros game.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Wolfspirit said:
			
		

> I say you are all nuts.  I just had a dinner theatre rehersal where the Director was refreshing his phone every few seconds to see what was going on *per pitch* on the Astros game.




I had a concert this past Saturday night, and the Music Director was going to annouce the score after intermission, but when we checked and it was 3-0 Yankees, he changed his mind.  He didn't want the crowd getting ugly!


----------



## Tamlyn

*Sox Win!!*

Congrats Sox fans! 

(Any chance for an update after you sober up?)   

Tamlyn


----------



## Duncan Haldane

*bump*


----------



## Kesho

Sagiro,

I know that real life is more important than SH, but I wanted to let you know that I am looking forward to your return!!

This is one of the Story Hours that I look for every time I come to the boards!

Hope everything is well!


----------



## thatdarncat

I know this is off topic, but I didn't know of anywhere else to ask. I found this summary of the first issue of the Freedom Force comic: 



> "'Founding Fathers.' Arriving on Earth in the year 1962, the mysterious *Mentor* enlists the aid of the patriotic Minuteman, the fiery El Diablo and the melancholy Man-Bot to hunt down the soviet super-spy, Nuclear Winter. But can even the combined might of these four brave heroes stop the frigid felon before he unleashes the power of the atom on an unsuspecting Patriot City?"




Were there some Lensman fans on the Freedom Force design team?


----------



## el-remmen

Come on, Dorian, throw us a bone!

At least stop by to say something like. . . "I have not been able to update the story hour because I am buy developing a first-person video game where one takes on the role of Dranko, alternately whipping and tasting things. . . . But what to taste and what to whip?  Therein lies the challenge of the game. . ."


----------



## Tamlyn

*Sagiro Book??*

You know, Hasbro errr... Wizards of the Coast is running a writing contest where the winner has their novel published. I'd buy that. Or maybe one about the Defenders of Daybreak. Hint, hint.

Tamlyn


----------



## coyote6

I think it's time for a bump.

At least tell us how that Freedom Force expansion is coming along.


----------



## el-remmen

All I wanted for X-mas was a Sagiro update. . .


----------



## Dawn

Found this story hour on the third page - certainly no place for Sagiro to be hanging out.


----------



## Piratecat

nemmerle said:
			
		

> All I wanted for X-mas was a Sagiro update. . .




His reply? "Oh, good. All I wanted for Christmas was guilt."

At least he's funny. And busy. But funny none the less.

We didn't play at all in December -- but we're scheduled for twice in January!


----------



## el-remmen

Please let Sagiro know that I did not mean to lay guilt on him, but only to badger him ceaselessly.


----------



## Sagiro

My life's not any less busy, but I fear that going any longer without updating will lose me what little continuity and audience I may have left.   I'm nearly finished crunching at work (Freedom Force vs. The Third Reich is in late Beta as we speak), but my schedule is still pretty packed what with doing work on our house (which includes pestering the $#@! contractors every day) in preparation for my impending fatherhood.  (6 weeks 'til the due date!)

Gulp.

Super-abbreviated catchup summary:  The Company is in Het Branoi, a maze of interconnected worlds and world-pieces, in search of an Eye of Moirel.  Having already passed through several of these planar "slices," they are now traveling through a bit of Limbo, en route to a monastery called "Monk's Rest" where they hope to learn something about the nature of Het Branoi itself.  

They need the Eye of Moirel because (as you may recall) the evil Sharshun somehow contrived to rewrite history so that their Emperor, Naloric Skewn, has conquered all of Charagan.  The Company believes that the Eye of Moirel in Het Branoi (together with the two Eyes of Moirel already in their possession) is needed to set things right.


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 220*_
*Softeners*

Quickly the Company unties the ropes that have heretofore connected them in a loose web.   They peer at the approaching spheroid, getting a decent view every few seconds as nearby flashes of elemental energy light it up.  The things crawling on the rock are quadruped, not humanoid.  Dranko has the sharpest eyes and gets the best look – they look a bit like lions, between five and ten feet long, and covered with… spiky fur?  They’re not slaadi, whatever they may be.  Dranko estimates it’ll be about thirty seconds before the boulder makes contact with their hangar.  

With a battle now seeming imminent, the party fires off preparatory spells:  _magic circles vs. chaos, bless,_, a _fire shield_ for Morningstar, and a _stoneskin_ for Step, among others.  Aravis casts _haste_ and _fly_ on himself.  Morningstar casts _speak with animals_ and Dranko casts _comprehend languages_ in the hopes of hearing something useful.

The rock rotates slowly as it moves through space, revealing more of the creatures; Dranko ups his estimate of their number to fifteen.  They’re crouching and milling about on the surface of the boulder like anxious pack animals, though they stay on its curve without effort, adjusting their gravity with ease.   Dranko sees that what he thought was spiky fur is a ruff of quills like a mane, and that most of things’ bodies are hairless.  Their jaws are full of sharp, jagged teeth.

In the final ten seconds before impact the Company suddenly starts to argue about whether it would be better to dissolve their hangar entirely for more maneuverability, or keep (and strengthen) it for more protection.  They don’t come to a consensus, but Kibi’s will wins out, and he hardens the rock around them in anticipation of the…

BOOM!  There’s a crunching stone-on-stone impact as the creatures’ boulder slams into the center of the hangar’s roof.   Now the party can hear growling and snarls, unintelligible even to the translation spells.  Dranko looks out one end of the hangar and sees the near curve of the boulder. (He also gets hit in the face with a cold splash of ambient water, which he ignores.) Two or three of the creatures are moving down it towards him, so with some deft manipulations of gravity he gets himself up onto the hangar’s roof and then onto the boulder himself.   He lashes out with his whip and curls the end around one of the nearest creature’s mane-quills, then bends it back until it snaps out of the thing’s neck.  Blood spews out of the wound and forms into floating red-black globules.   The monster glares at him, then opens its jaws, which seem to unhinge and gape unnaturally wide.   It makes a horrible growling noise, and then it and the two creatures near it lunge to attack.  Before Dranko can react all three have scored painful bites, and now it’s his own blood that fills the air with spheroid droplets.  

“Holy crap!” exclaims Dranko.

The other beasts start to move from their boulder onto and into the hangar.  One comes in from other side long the ceiling, then drops down and takes a bite out of Step.  Three more scramble in right behind it and spot Ernie, the smallest and therefore (to their animal minds) easiest target.   They gnaw at him, but two of the three are foiled by his plate mail.  

“Bad chaos doggies!” chides Ernie.  “Down!”

A fourth Chaos Doggy skitters in along the ceiling, and bites at Morningstar’s head from above.   It only succeeds in scorching itself on Morningstar’s _fire shield_ and yelping in dismay.   The general din of the monsters is horrible, a cacophony of yowling, growling, and snarling mixed with a low guttural roar.  

Flicker jumps into the fray, flanks one of the monsters with Ernie, and proceeds to carve.  Despite dishing out prodigious damage Flicker doesn’t kill it, though blood sprays out of two gaping wounds and fills the air around it with a floating reddish mist.  Ernie steps back and tries to cast a _flame strike_, while imagining a gravity that would cause it to strike sideways relative to himself.  Alas, it’s a bit too much for Ernie to get his head around and the spell fails to go off at all, resulting in no damage but plenty of un-Ernie-like swearing.    Step hacks a monster with his sword, Snokas pierces another with his pick, and Morningstar pegs one with a _searing darkness_; now the blood in the air is starting to become a real distraction, and for all the damage the party has dealt, none of the monsters has died.   Grey Wolf casts _assassin’s senses_ on himself; his eyes glow red.  Bostock approves.  

Up above, more of the quilled creatures come at Dranko from around the curve of the boarding boulder.  This time he’s ready, dodging and weaving while effecting subtle changes to his personal gravity.  Wide leonine jaws snap fruitlessly.  

Just as the Company is getting fully set against the monsters inside the hangar, a large section of rock ceiling ripples and turns to air.   Four more Chaos Doggies scramble down through the hole, dropping into their midst and launching attacks against Kibi, Aravis and Ernie.   Aravis wrestles a bleeding arm out of a snarling maw, glares, and introduces the lot of them to a _sonic chain lightning_.  Air and stone vibrate as the sonic boom blasts through the hangar.  The monster previously sliced up by Flicker breaks into bits, and there is a great howling of pain and anger from the pack.  Broken-off quills start to float through the air, mixed in with the general gore.  Kibi follows this up with an _empowered lightning bolt_, after which he backs away _up_ the near wall (adjusting his personal gravity on the fly).

Above on the boulder Dranko activates his vest (becoming _improvedly invisible_) and taunts the Chaos Doggies.   His plan backfires, as the creatures don’t stick around to fight an invisible opponent.  Instead, most of them abandon him, hopping down onto the hangar to join the general melee, and Dranko is afforded only a single whip-snap of opportunity as they leave him behind.   He shouts after them in frustration.

“No!  Come back!  Stay here!  God DAMN IT!”

They drop down into the hole they’ve made in the hangar roof.   One delivers a vicious bite upon Morningstar, then pulls back yelping as it burns its tongue on her _fire shield_.  Two more lunge at Ernie, and not only do they deliver nasty bites, but also they leave behind long barbed quills sticking into the halfling’s flesh.  

The Company continues to battle through an increasingly opaque cloud of blood droplets, smashed quills, and mixed-race viscera.   The creatures are surprisingly tough and enjoy an annoying facility with the local gravity.  Two more learn the hard way that biting Morningstar is a painful experience.  Grey Wolf has unsheathed Bostock for close-quarters swordplay, and the glowing blue blade utters encouragement into his mind.   When his first swing goes over his foe’s head, the sword hisses:  “No!  Lower!  Swing lower!”  Grey Wolf’s next swing cuts a bloody gash in the lion-thing’s neck, and as blood pours out in a weightless stream, Bostock flares with a sapphire light.  “Thank you!” it says to Grey Wolf.  “I am much closer now!  Keep using me.  I must be free!  I can almost remember who I am.  And I am still in your debt.”

Grey Wolf feels the sword become lighter and more potent in his hand – it’s magic increases, and now enjoys the abilities of a Defender weapon.  He doesn’t have much time to enjoy it, though, as a hole is torn open in the hangar floor and more chaos-lions start snapping at his legs from below.  They tear the flesh from his shins and one leaves a quill sticking from his leg.  Others renew their assault, and Aravis finds himself in dire straights.  He flees straight upward, out of the hole his enemies have made.  

The fight rages on, with both sides slowly getting whittled down.   Morningstar kills a chaos-lion with a _searing darkness_, and Kibi blasts another two to bits with a powerful second _lightning bolt_.   (So powerful, in fact, that it turns patches of the stone floor into pure electricity, which spiral downward in little whorls to join the maelstrom.)  The beasts then crowd around Ernie, snarling and snapping; he practically disappears beneath the pile of them.  There’s a loud clattering of teeth, claws and quills grinding against plate mail, and Ernie is left a bleeding pincushion.   Other monsters keep Snokas and Grey Wolf occupied with frenzied attacks.  Dranko on the boarding-rock finds only one monster left, sniffing around suspiciously.  Dranko vents his anger on it, lashing out with a full round of whip sneak attacks and tearing chunks of the monster’s body away.  As its jawbone twirls into the chaos and gets broadsided by a small passing boulder, Dranko heaves out a sigh.

“This makes me long for the pastoral splendor of the Abyss,” he says plaintively.

Ernie manages to heal himself with a _heal_ scroll in his _quickscroll tube_, which gives him enough time to slay a chaos-doggie with a _searing light_.   Step heals up Grey Wolf, while Snokas eviscerates another beast with his picks.    Flicker, standing sideways on the wall in order to flank, kills yet another with his short sword.  

It’s a grinding, ugly battle that continues on for another ten seconds or more.   Morningstar does her best to keep everyone healed up, the wizards maneuver to find optimal firing paths for _lightning bolts_ and _ cones of sonic_ and _chain lightnings_.  Step, Flicker, Ernie, Snokas and Grey Wolf just keep hacking away, through a chunky mist so thick now that every weapon-swing leaves a trail of parted gore.  

At least it seems over.  All of the chaos-lions are slain, their bodies drifting and bouncing off the walls.  Most of the Company stands in the hangar, bleeding from wounds, punctured with quills and panting for breath.  Kibi and Morningstar concentrate on shoring up the structure.  Only Dranko isn’t with them.  He has killed a second beast with his whip, and is pursuing a third who is now fleeing around the curve of the boarding boulder.  But something makes him pull up short.  His shoulders sag for a moment, and then he starts running back to the others. 

The rest are doing their best to push the floating chaos-lion bodies back into the Chaos when Dranko comes swinging back into the hangar.  “It’s not over yet,” he announces grimly.  “There are Slaad on that rock.  At least six or seven – I don’t think they saw me, since I just saw the tops of their heads.    I think we’d better heal up now, while we can.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” says Morningstar, shaking her head.  “Those lion-things were just to soften us up.”

...to be continued...


----------



## Dawn

What?!  No taste test on the Chaos Doggies?  Must have been too much fun swinging that whip!
Thanks for the posting!!


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

nemmerle said:
			
		

> Please let Sagiro know that I did not mean to lay guilt on him, but only to badger him ceaselessly.




If you are going to do that, go all the way. Badger in Multimedia

<ducks the reprisal>
GW


----------



## el-remmen

I love you, Sagiro.

Thanks for the update and congrats to you and yours on the coming Sagirito. . .


----------



## Mishihari Lord

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> If you are going to do that, go all the way. Badger in Multimedia
> 
> <ducks the reprisal>
> GW




Thanks a lot!  That song will haunt my dreams.

Sagiro:

Thanks for the update!


----------



## KidCthulhu

I should mention the exta sucky thing about the chaos doggies.  Every quills they left in the flesh was something like -2 to your Dex.  They were big quills, and we were getting turned into pincushions.  Stupid chaos doggies.  No biscuiit.


----------



## Plane Sailing

Sounds like Howlers from the MM. In a big enough pack I imagine the attrition effect of the quills could be pretty alarming. Was the blood floating in the air flavour for the write-up, or did Sagiro start giving concealment from baddie body chunks?

Cheers


----------



## Jackylhunter

Sagiro I can SO relate to having to bug contractors everyday.  So, my heart goes out to ya.

One question, with all this going on in RL, are you guys still getting together for this game, or are you just getting caught up in here?


----------



## Fade

It lives!


----------



## Piratecat

We didn't meet at all in December, but we're meeting twice in January - including tonight!


----------



## Dawn

Well??  Any news from the game the other night?  A little something to keep us drooling for more.


----------



## Ashy

I had a great time, but I'm not a regular (obviously)....


----------



## Sagiro

Unfortunately for Ashy, he ended up sitting in on the session just _after_ the final climactic moment of a long story-arc.  As such, he got to experience the exhilaration of loot-dispersal and a lot of wind-walking.  It was a pleasure having him at the table, though -- a finer gentleman you couldn't hope to meet, and his interpretation of the halfling Yoba was... refreshing.    You'll have to wait a while to learn who Yoba is, though.  For now, it's back to the Chaos, and some hostile Slaad...


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 221*_
*Tossed Slaad*

It’s not long before things get ugly.  Ernie and Morningstar have time to cast some quick healing spells, Aravis casts _endurance_ on himself, Kibi makes himself _improvedly invisible_, and Grey Wolf pulls one of the quills out of his leg.  Droplets of blood drip out of the wound, joining the red cloud in the hangar.   

“Come on!” urges Dranko.  “Let’s move while we’ve still got our combat spells active!”

“We don’t have to try talking to them, do we?” asks Morningstar sarcastically.

“Nah.  Just kill ‘em,” says Dranko with a wink.

Snokas, Step and Flicker try concentrating on the holes in the hangar, hoping to seal them up, but none of them can muster the wherewithal.  It turns out not to matter.  

The hangar vanishes out from around them, replaced by a whirling storm of elements.  All in the company are caught in a jumble of shooting flames and tumbling boulders, which they desperately try to dodge.

“Sweet Yondalla’s sticky buns!” yells Ernie, though his exclamation is lost in the din.

Dranko, being Dranko, reacts quickly.   Not seeing any slaad through the storm, he concentrates for a second to clear himself some space.  Then he adjusts his gravity to fall toward the Slaad’s boarding boulder, and when his feet touch the stone he starts running toward where he remembers seeing the monsters.  He sees them, all right – two greenish frog-men, and three with a blueish cast.  Invisible himself, he hopes they don’t see him.

Morningstar instantiates a slab of rock under everyone’s feet, and then runs up the boulder herself.  Though not following Dranko’s precise line, she also stops when she sees the Slaad.  

“They’re up here!  Five of them!”

In the midst of everyone else there is a thunderous sound and the elements become even more agitated, as two _chaos hammers_ go off.  Everyone is damaged and some are left staggered.  Kibi, still wounded from the previous battle, takes the full brunt of the spells and is in particularly bad shape.

Ernie and Grey Wolf both see two more Slaad, these a sickly grayish color.  Ernie shouts a warning, casts a _healing circle_ on everyone nearby, and then moves out into space away from the others.  Kibi, staggered from the _chaos hammers_, tries and fails to instantiate a wall for cover against the Slaad, and settles for drinking a healing potion instead.  Aravis moves away from the clustered group, casts _shield_ on himself, and also fails to manifest a covering wall.  Snokas goes charging up the boulder, taking a different arc from Morningstar.

Grey Wolf takes aim at one of the Gray Slaad and pegs it directly with a _sonic orb_, but to his dismay it seems to have no effect on the frog-beast.  It opens its jaws in an evil grin, illuminated by a passing fireball.  But this bit of unfortunate immunity is immediately balanced out as the three Blue Slaad all croak spells at Morningstar.  She feels her muscles starting to tighten just a bit... but her _ring of freedom of movement_ quickly overcomes the effect of _hold person_ spells.    

One of the Green Slaad continues the trend.  It casts a spell and moves directly at Dranko (whom it can apparently see), enduring a whip-snap in order to cast _dispel law_.  It entirely fails to affect the non-lawful Dranko’s _invisibility_.  The other Green Slaad casts more _chaos hammers_, striking both Dranko and Morningstar..

Flicker and Step both fall toward one of the Gray Slaad, as if they had just jumped off a building.   They end up flanking, which is the idea.  Flicker sizes up the creature, waiting for the right moment to strike.

From out in the depths of the Chaos, a loud croak reverberates even above the cacophony.  Another Slaad, unseen by any, casts a spell.  One Certain Step vanishes, to Flicker’s great unhappiness, but he’s the only one who notices.   His warning shouts go unheard, drowned out by the sounds of clashing elements.

Dranko, wanting to take advantage of his invisibility, ignores the Gray Slaad for the moment.  He moves a short distance and unloads a full flurry of whip-snaps on the closet Blue Slaad, badly injuring it.  With _comprehend languages_ up, he hears its panicked croaking.  “Augh!  What’s that? What’s that?  What’s that?”

Morningstar casts _darkbeam_ and sends the first ray at the nearest Green Slaad.  It dodges enough to avoid being blinded, as the spell sears its arm.

One of the Gray Slaad lets out a particularly loud croak; Grey Wolf finds himself stunned by the _power word_; he reflexively lets go of Bostock, which floats in the chaos next to him.   The other Gray Slaad, now facing down only Flicker, tears into the halfling with its sharp claws.  Ernie sees Flicker’s predicament, extends _Beryn Sur_ out in front of himself point first, and uses gravity to fall into the Gray Slaad.   The thing’s big froggy eyes go wide as it’s pierced by the sword.  Ouch!  

Kibi starts to cast a _summoning_ spell, and as he does so he feels wild magic surging into him, effectively _maximizing_ its effect.   Aravis turns the tables on the Gray Slaad attacking Flicker, administering his own _power word: stun_.  As the Slaad’s eyes defocus, Aravis shouts:  “Ok, Flicker, take him out!”

Snokas falls toward the nearest Blue Slaad and smacks it with his pick.  He’s never seen a Slaad before today, but he’s guessing from all the blood that it’s close to death.

Grey Wolf, stunned, thinks it would be nice to sit down, if only there were something to sit upon.

The Blue Slaad victimized by Dranko’s whip croaks out a command to its fellows, which only Dranko understands.  “Target me!” it yells.   Four _chaos hammers_ go off, centered on the Slaad.   Dranko and the unfortunate Snokas are caught in the area of all four.   A Green Slaad follows suit, and when the _hammers_ clear, both half-orcs are badly wounded.  Snokas is staggered and barely conscious.  

Flicker figures out just how to best approach the stunned Gray Slaad floating in front of him.  Getting a full attack plus another for being _hasted_, Flicker carves up the frog-beast like a turkey.   But he doesn’t get any time to gloat over his kill; a moment later he is struck by a _power word_ cast by the still unseen Slaad out in the chaos.

“Ahhhh!” cries Flicker.  “I’m blind!  I can’t see anything!  Help!  Help!”

Dranko whips at the Blue Slaad closest to Snokas, and with a clean shot he snaps the creature’s neck.  There’s still another one menacing Snokas, so Dranko changes his gravity and falls toward his comrade, bumping him out of the way and making himself the easiest target instead.

Morningstar fires off her second _Darkbeam_ at another Blue Slaad.  This one fails to dodge and gets the blinding ray right in the eyes.  It starts croaking a stream of profanities.  The surviving Gray Slaad launches a full attack of claws and teeth at Ernie, all of which are foiled by Ernie’s plate mail.  The Slaad speaks telepathically into Ernie’s mind.

“Next time, you...”

“I am protected by Yondalla’s righteous shield,” interrupts Ernie.  “And you’re an icky disgusting frog thing,” he adds.  Then he smacks the Slaad with a solid shot from _Beryn Sur._

“That all you’ve got?”  thinks the Slaad into Ernie’s mind.  “Heh heh heh...”

Kibi’s _summon_ spell finishes.   He had considered summoning his favorite – an earth elemental – but this seems like the right environment for a type of creature he hasn’t tried before.  A rift appears in space near the Slaads, and several tentacles come out.  They grab the edges of the rift and pull the body through, a blobby mass of barbs, eyes, mouths, teeth and more tentacles.  Because of the wild magic surge on the spell, it’s a particularly large and impressive example of its species – Chaos Beast! 

The summoned creature rolls through space toward a Green Slaad.  The frog-creature’s eyes go wide with terror.  “Chaos Beast!” it shouts at the top of its voice.  “CHAOS BEEEEEEEAST!”  It flies into a panic.  Happy with the results, Kibi pulls out his _deck of illusions_ and flips the top card out in front of him.  It pops and is replaced with an exquisitely realistic ogre.  He moves it a few feet toward some of the slaad, and instructs it to act menacing.  It raises its club and lets out a roar.

Aravis flies upward to get spell-casting position, though he gets struck in the face by a passing blob of hot mud as he goes.  Shaking it off, he casts a _cone of cold_, striking four Slaad, and unfortunately the Chaos Beast as well.  One Slaad is immediately frozen to death and the other three (including the surviving Grey Slaadi) are badly injured.  The ogre, oddly enough, seems unaffected and unfazed.  

Snokas, pushed out of harm’s way by Dranko, guzzles a much-needed healing potion.   And just in time, too, as the blinded Blue Slaad casts _chaos hammer_ at its own feet, catching both half-orcs.   Neither are staggered, but Dranko is as wounded as he can remember being in a long, long time.

One of the Blue Slaad flees into the maelstrom, yelling “Chaos Beeeeeast!” all the while.  A second Blue Slaad follows it.  A third launches a vicious flurry of claws and teeth at the ogre.  Kibi smiles as the creature croaks confusedly. 

Another _chaos hammer_ – this one from a Green Slaad – strikes Aravis.   Flicker, blinded, fumbles out a potion he hopes is _cure serious wounds_ and quaffs it.  (He’s right, fortunately.)

The still-invisible Slaad spellcaster floating out in the chaos has identified a new primary target.  It unleashes a massive _chain lightning_ targeted at the Chaos Beast, and also catching Aravis and the ogre (ha!).  To the great relief of the surviving Slaad, the Chaos Beast explodes into a shower of chunks and loose tentacles.

Dranko uses a wand to heal himself, and then moves so that he and Snokas are flanking the blinded Blue Slaad.   Morningstar, still with _darkbeams_ left, pegs and blinds a Green Slaad, which starts cursing in frustration.  Things seem to be turning generally in the Company’s favor, until the surviving Gray Slaad, facing down Ernie, floats back five feet and casts _power word: stun_ on the halfling.  Then it instantiates a shell of rock around both itself and Ernie.  Aravis points to the rocky sphere and shouts in alarm, “Ernie’s trapped in there with one of the gray ones, and he’s probably stunned!”

Kibi focuses his will on the sphere and concentrates for all he’s worth.  His intellect and chaos-savvy overwhelm the mind of the Slaad, and he tears away most of the near half of the rocky sphere, replacing it with air.  (He’s now looking through what looks like a stone puppet-theatre box, watching the “Ernie and Slaad” show.)  Ernie is clearly stunned; his sword floats next to him.  Kibi falls toward Ernie, moves through the hole in the stone sphere, touches both halfling and sword, and casts _dimension door_, removing them both to the (relative) safety of the far side of the boarding boulder.  Aravis finishes the tide-turning by casting _power word: stun_ himself on the Gray Slaad.  

The battle rages on for a short while longer.  Some more _chaos hammers_ get dropped, another Slaad or two gets cut down by the Company, and some healing spells go off.  No one ever catches a glimpse of the Death Slaad casting spells from the edges of the combat.  There’s still no sign of One Certain Step.   The battle is set up for a stirring conclusion...

...to be continued...


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Hurray.

GW


----------



## Gideon

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “We don’t have to try talking to them, do we?” asks Morningstar sarcastically.
> 
> “Nah.  Just kill ‘em,” says Dranko with a wink.
> 
> ...
> 
> _dispel law_.  It entirely fails to affect the non-lawful Dranko’s _invisibility_.  The other Green Slaad casts more _chaos hammers_, striking both Dranko and Morningstar




Dranko isn't lawful?  Are you sure?  That player might have been fibbing to get out of trouble.


----------



## el-remmen

Please sir, may I have some more. . . .


----------



## Jackylhunter

Hehe, sweet.  I have to look up the character sheets again, but does Dranko have Comprehend Lang up all the time?  Is it a Item he owns?  or Did he go and have it made permanent?

Again, great stuff, well worth the wait.  But lets not wait this long again, please?


----------



## Piratecat

I think I had cast it in the (hah!) assumption that we'd be able to bargain with them. It was a vicious fight; multiple chaos hammers, even when you're only taking partial damage, are still _extremely_ painful. Having the fight in variable gravity was even more exciting.


----------



## Dawn

Thanks for the update!

I’m interested in the variable gravity combat.  Do you take into consideration those pesky Newtonian laws or just run the combat as if airborne or under water?


----------



## Seule

Don't you have to be touching something to Comprehend it?

  --Seule


----------



## Piratecat

Seule said:
			
		

> Don't you have to be touching something to Comprehend it?




Err - if you actually read the damn rules, yeah. I think we house ruled this after we did it "wrong" so for long.


----------



## Sagiro

Piratecat is correct.  For a long time we treated _comprehend languages_ as a one-way _tongues_, and when we discovered the rule-as-written, decided to stick with how we'd been doing it.

Dawn, running a 3-D combat is tricky enough without worrying about equal and opposite reactions.  I assumed that people adjusted their gravity subconsciously on the fly, so as not to go sailing away every time they connected with a weapon or cast a forceful spell.  So, yeah, I just treated the combat as if everyone were flying.

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 222*_
*Ocean’s Nine*


To a hypothetical outside observer, it would have been a fascinating conclusion to a hard-fought battle.  The Company seemed to have the upper hand, with Slaad variously blinded, wounded and killed, not to mention outnumbered.  But the party too was quite injured, and one should never count out a Death Slaad in Limbo.  Alas for the hypothetical watcher that victory was achieved by neither side in the end.   

The battle, you see, was interrupted by an ocean.  

* *

The actors involved are so preoccupied with their life-and-death struggle, they fail to notice that water is starting to become a more prevalent element in the general maelstrom.  What floating globules there are, are larger and more numerous, and they herald the arrival of the ocean by about ten seconds.  Only the Death Slaad notices, and even for it, it’s too last-second for an escape.  

Miles across and moving at over fifty miles per hour, the body of water known to planar scholars as “The Transient Sea of Limbo” comes crashing through the battle, a dark inexorable tide breaking around the Slaadi boulder and sweeping all and sundry away with it.   It snuffs out bits of fire and electricity, engulfs chunks of earth and stone, and pushes the air in front of its enormous leading edge.  The party is at first (for a few seconds) sent hurtling along with the ocean’s border, but soon they become swallowed up, after which they slow down and eventually seem to stop moving at all, all things being relative.

Each member of the Company finds him or herself alone in submerged darkness, unable to see, unable to breathe.   Kibi immediately dons his _helmet of water breathing_.  Grey Wolf draws Bostock, since while gripping the hilt he has no need of air.  Most of the rest, with concentration that only seasoned adventurers could muster in such straights, make for themselves pockets of air in which to survive.   

Flicker, not exactly a bulwark of wisdom, can’t manage it.  He tries for a few seconds to make some air, but succeeds only in making little clusters of bubbles that disperse unhelpfully around his head.   For a few seconds after that, he panics.  Soon after he calms down a bit and wonders what drowning will be like.

Then he sees light.  The halfling adjusts his gravity towards it, and with a good thirty seconds left before asphyxiation, falls into Dranko’s air bubble.   The half-orc has lit a lantern, intending it as a beacon for the others to find him.

“Whew.  Thanks!” exclaims Flicker, floating in the air pocket.  “I thought I was a gonner!”

It takes some time and coordination, but enough of the party creates light that everyone is soon congregated in one large bubble of air.  (Morningstar, having activated the _daylight_ power of her holy shield, is the easiest to spot.)  Kibi makes a stone slab near the bottom of the bubble so people can stand or sit more naturally.  Step is the last to join; he emerged from the Death Slaad’s _maze_ to find himself completely submerged, and far removed from the rest of the Company.   He only learns what happened through a _sending_ from Morningstar, and eventually he spots the bright but distant light of the Company’s air pocket.

Morningstar casts a second _sending_, this time to the invisible slaad that had clearly been the most powerful of the bunch:  *We strongly suggest that you stay away from us.   There is no reason for us to fight., and we are leaving your territory.*

The response:  *Exit as quickly as possible.  You are ten.  We are legion.*

* *

So there they are all, in a big bubble of air.   The “walls” show a warbling reflection of themselves; Dranko spits at it and watches the air/water border ripple.

“So,” he says to no one in particular.  “Here were are, in a tiny little shard of eternal Chaos, trapped inside a bubble, trapped inside an ocean.  It doesn’t get any weirder than this.”

“Morningstar agreed to marry you,” Ernie points out.  The others nod.  Yeah, that’s weird.

“I never thought I’d get married,” says Morningstar, looking at Dranko and smiling.

“Me neither,” says Dranko.  “Or at least, I thought if I did get married, it would be to a bar-room trollop who was drunk at the time.  And blind.”

Morningstar raises her eyebrows at him, and Ernie clears his throat.  Realizing he may be heading in the wrong direction, Dranko adds, “And now I’m marrying so far above my station, it’s not even funny!”

An unlucky fish swims into the bubble and flops around on the stone.  Dranko mentions that maybe Kay could talk with it, and that gets everyone to thinking about Kay and what happened to her.

“I miss her,” says Ernie.

“Me too,” says Snokas.  “She was the only one who knew which direction we were going.”

After the brutal fight against the Slaad and their minions, the Company needs to rest and get their spells back.  After some discussion of the logistics, Aravis, casts a _secure shelter_ on the stone slab, and _rope tricks_ inside the shelter.  Only Ernie remains outside, wearing Step’s magic ring that reduces the need for sleep.   He also gets the Stabilizer, and he ties one of the _rope trick_ ropes around his waist.  

Ernie has a bit of trouble keeping the stone slab and the air bubble intact by himself, but he finds that it gets easier as the time wears on.  Still, it’s a tedious and difficult eight hours.  The only excitement comes in the last half hour, as a rain of small boulders rolls through the water around him.   A few come right into the air bubble, mostly bouncing off the sides of the shelter.  Ernie has to dodge one or two.

Step wakes, drops out of his extradimensional pocket, and laments the absence of sun.   (He declines Grey Wolf’s offer of standing atop the shelter and casting _body of the sun_.)  

“I can give you a moon,” says Dranko, grinning.

“Having learned now what you mean,” says Step, “I can safely say I don’t want to see that again.  Ever.”

Over breakfast, Kibi announces that he can disguise the entire party for 12 hours if they desire, by casting _veil_.  They decide to look like Slaad, thinking that will help scare off potential trouble, and other Slaad will be less like to attack on sight.

Hey, does anyone notice it’s getting a bit warm in the air bubble?

While they cast daily buffing spells, the air continues to grow warmer, and slightly humid.  Step puts his hand out into the ocean and it’s definitely warmer than it was the night before, but there’s no sign of what’s causing it.   Hm. Morningstar casts _find the path_ to reestablish the direction toward the closest Way.  Kibi casts his _veil_, and it’s mightily disturbing (for a few seconds, anyway) to see everyone else looking like big frog-beasts.  The dwarf can’t help having a bit of fun, and makes Dranko look like a Gray Slaad with pinkish polka dots.

“I don’t need to look like a Slaad,” says Scree to his master.  “I have an instant disguise.”  

The earth elemental spreads out in zero-G, his component rocks looking mostly like any other cluster of stones in Limbo.

“Your Eyes of Moirel are showing,” notes Flicker.

When everyone’s ready, they start moving the slab-and-air-bubble in the direction indicated by Morningstar’s spell.  As the minutes pass, it continues to grow warmer in the bubble.  Thin vapors of steam appear around them, and then over the course of a minute, the water out in the ocean starts to bubble and roil.  The water is also starting glow orange, and the glow is rapidly getting brighter.

“Maybe we should...” begins Aravis.

FWOOOOOOOSH!

There’s a big flash of blinding steam, and then the water outside of their air pocket is replaced with roaring flame!  The steam vanishes, but now the Company is effectively in an oven, and they realize that in a few seconds they’ll start to cook for real.  Everyone starts concentrating frantically not just on the air around them, but on the temperature of that air – a heretofore irrelevant detail.  Morningstar exerts the most control, and it’s enough.  The air cools inside, and fog immediately forms all around the border of their air bubble.  Fortunately the mass of fire is nowhere near the size of the Transient Sea, and after twenty more minutes it moves off, leaving them once more in the “normal” maelstrom of Limbo.

Two and half hours later, with Morningstar on her second _find the path_, and having fended off a lightning storm that knocked chunks out of their reformed hangar, they spot a twinkle of blue light in the distance.  After another half hour they reach it:  a large Way, fifteen feet on a side.  There’s nothing around it, and no sign of slaad or other creatures.   From their talk with Medina back at the Eye of the Storm, they presume that it leads to another Slice of Limbo.

*>>At this point, for some reason, my players got sidetracked onto a long discussion regarding a hypothetical  “Leomund’s Secure Latrine,” and how it might work, and the perils of using it in conjunction with disintegration fields or teleportation circles.  It was just one of those things.   You had to be there, I guess.*

Ernie volunteers to be the first one through.  They tie a rope to him, and he hops through the Way.  There’s the familiar empty blackness, the unnatural pulling, and...  WHAM!  There’s a huge piece of earth just on the other side, less than a foot from the Way.  It knocks Ernie right back through, back to the waiting Company.  He’s rubbing a bump on his head.

They wait a few minutes, and Kibi goes next.  Before he goes he uses his Earth Mage ability to cast _xorm movement_, just in case.   He grabs the rope and jumps through.  Sure enough the huge rock is still there, but Kibi phases cleanly into it.  The only problem is the rope, which he is forced to let go since it can’t move through stone with him.

“This is a nice place,” comments Scree, as the two of them go swimming through the enormous chunk of earth.  “High quality stuff they’ve got here in Limbo.  Oooh, look.  Rubies.  We could tell Flicker and Dranko, but there’s no good way to get them out.”

Scree discovers the edge of the mass, does some calculations, and deduces it will clear the Way in another five or ten minutes.  Having figured that out, Kibi and his familiar head back to the Way to rejoin the others.  The find the rest of the party looking worried.  Dranko and Aravis look like they’re in pain.

“What’s wrong?” asks the dwarf.

“Kibi!” says Ernie.  “We thought you might be dead, or squished!”

“Oh, sorry,” says Kibi.  “We got caught up examining the rock.  It’s good solid stone, and there are some rubies deep inside it.  Scree figured out how much longer it would be – about five minutes and you’ll all be able to get through.”

“Why didn’t you come out and tell us that?” asks Aravis, holding his jaw.

“I did, once we knew.   If I’d come back sooner, we wouldn’t know how long the wait was.”

“While you were gone,” says Morningstar, “Aravis and Dranko tried going through to see if you were okay.”

“That wasn’t very smart,” says Kibi.  “There’s a big rock over there!”

“You let go of the rope!” says Dranko, exasperated.  “That’s the signal for ‘I’ve been eaten!’  What did you expect us to do?”

“I couldn’t very well come back without Scree,” Kibi protests.  “I’m sorry if I made you guys worry.”

He doesn’t look _that_ sorry, but since no un-healable harm was done, the matter is soon dropped.

A few minutes later the entire Company is safely through the Way, in yet another Slice of swirling Chaos.  Morningstar again tries to locate the monastery using _find the path_, but it’s not in this Slice either, so they settle for heading toward the next Way.  It’s disheartening; for all they know there could be dozens of Slices between them and the monastery that sent Kibi his invitation.   Dranko looks out into the morass of seething elements and grumbles, “I don’t see why they spent all that effort hiding the damned tower.  It’s not like anyone can actually _do_ anything once they get here.”

Happily, he’s proven wrong.  Only a couple of hours into their trek through the new Slice, they spot a movement in the distance that’s clearly a living creature.  Dranko gets a decent glimpse of it, and thinks it looks like a big spider.  Then he loses track of it as a shower of water blobs moves between them.

“What if whatever that was hates Slaad?  That’s what we look like,” reminds Kibi.

“If that’s the case, you can just drop the illusion,” says Aravis.

“Yeah,” says Kibi, rolling his eyes.  “And it’ll see a bunch of Slaad suddenly looking like something else, and think, ‘those Slaad are trying to disguise themselves with an illusion.’”

The hangar creeps forward; the arachnid creature was almost directly in their path.   The party casts some preparatory spells just in case (including a _telepathic bond_ among Dranko, Ernie, Flicker and Morningstar), and Dranko crawls up onto the roof of the hangar to get a better look.   Somewhere beyond the spot he thought he saw the spider-creature, he catches a brief glimpse of blue – which is then covered as a wall of fire leaps up.

“I think it’s guarding the Way,” thinks Dranko over the mind-link.  “And given that whatever it is probably hates Slaad, I also think we should drop the disguises.”

Kibi looks skeptical.

“I don’t know that it would do any harm,” continues Dranko.  “And it might help.  Kibi, you’re pretty intimidating just being yourself.  I mean, you’re a bad-ass dwarf with a walking rock behind you!”

“And everyone knows that spiders are traditionally afraid of Dwarven wizards,” says Kibi dryly.

“They will be,” says Dranko.

“Everyone’s afraid of rocks,” adds Scree.  “Who wants to get hit with a rock?”

Kibi dismisses the _veil_, and they move the hangar closer to the wall of fire.  Dranko spots a small object floating by off to the left, heading in their direction.  Kibi casts _see invisible_ and _detect magic_, but neither spell registers anything interesting.  A few seconds later the shape comes close enough for everyone to see that it’s a Slaad head with a sharp wooden stake driven through it.  

“Good thing we dropped the disguise, huh?” thinks Dranko.

The natural ebb and flow of elements gives Dranko a better view for a few seconds, and he sees that the wall of fire is actually a sphere, probably surrounding the Way.  There are also many of the spider-creatures – maybe fifteen in all – moving around nearby.   They’re very large, with bodies the size of human torsos, and long spider legs extending outward.  They’re like enormous daddy-longlegs.   Some of them just float in the Chaos, while others stand on small stone platforms that move with them.   Kibi activates his _Ioun Stone of tongues_ and joins Dranko on the roof of the hangar, where the half-orc is waving a piece of white cloth to indicate their peaceful intentions.  One of the spiders leaves the group and drifts toward them, stopping about thirty feet away.  The space around it stays clear of all elements but air.

“Hello!”  calls Kibi.  “Will you please let us pass?  We mean you no harm.”

...to be continued...


----------



## el-remmen

Yay!

Please sir, may we have even _more_. . .?


----------



## Plane Sailing

What _did _happen to Kay? I forget!


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Ah yes, Parley, we hardly new ye.

GW


----------



## thatdarncat

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> What _did _happen to Kay? I forget!



 I don't believe Kay made it when the world changed.


----------



## Piratecat

Nope. When we were cowering in the small room and readying to fight the mummies and skeletal hydras and bone naga, Kay got sucked out of our universe and into a parallel one; something to do with the wild magic and her natural Yrimpa-ness.

In truth, Kay's player moved to Connecticut and had two kids. But you know how it is.


----------



## Sagiro

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Nope. When we were cowering in the small room and readying to fight the mummies and skeletal hydras and bone naga, Kay got sucked out of our universe and into a parallel one...



You're close!  It was actually when you were cowering in a small room (a cloakroom) hoping to wait out a hostile living storm.    The room before the undead fight was the woman's bedroom, and Kay was still with you during the battle.



			
				Piratecat said:
			
		

> something to do with the wild magic and her natural Yrimpa-ness.



You got that right.  There was a tremor of wild-magic instability throughout all of Het Branoi, and Kay, being bonded with an elemental creature of air, was torn out of reality and into a parallel dimension.  (Heck, if the tremor had been any stronger, it might have done the same thing to the living storm.  Ah well.)



			
				Piratecat said:
			
		

> In truth, Kay's player moved to Connecticut and had two kids. But you know how it is.



Yup.

-Sagiro


----------



## Plane Sailing

Thanks for the reminder, all.

Bye-bye Kay, hope you ended up in a better world than the slices.

(mind you, breaking with tradition a bit isn't it? I thought players tended to move to the other side of the country? Connecticut is only spitting distance in comparison


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

I thought one moved to NH as well, or is that only from the DoD group?

GW


----------



## thatdarncat

The left coast thing is for arcane spellcasters and divine agents. Obviously lowly rangers are immune.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 223*_
*Land of the Vree*

The large arachnid makes some clicking sounds, that Kibi’s _tongues_ translates as “Hmmmmmm.”

Then:  “YoooouuuuuUUUUuuuuu shouldn’t beeeeEEEEE HEEEeeeeEEeeeerrrre.”

That’s what it sounds like to Kibi.  The translation comes to his ears in a musical sing-songy voice that tends to elongate various words and syllables.  To the others, it’s a disturbing combination of clicks, chitters, burbles and hisses.

“We’re trying to find a monastery, and avoid Slaad,” says Kibi.

“WhoooOOOoooo arrrrrrrrrrre youuuuUUuuuu?”

“My name is Kibilhathur Bimson.”

Though it gets lost in the din of chaos, those close by can hear the sound of Dranko slapping is forehead.  How can anyone be so smart and yet so... so _trusting_ at the same time?  It’s not like Kibi has _assassins_ after him or anything...

The arachnid starts chittering excitedly.   “YooouuuuUUUuuu are Kibilathur BimmmmMMMMMsonnnnNNNN?  In that case, you arrrrre most welllLLLLcommmme.   Youuuu and your frrriendszzzzzzzz, commmmmme with MeeEEEEeeeeee.”

The creature stands on six of its eight long spider-legs.   On closer examination, the party sees it has two additional limbs, like smaller arms jutting out of the front of its body.  These end in multi-jointed clawed hands.

“What is your name?” asks Kibi.

“I am GuullllLLLLLlll Trezzzzzzzzzzz.  I am of the VreeeEEEEEEeeeeee.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Gazzzzz MurrrRRRRrrrrr will be most pleazzzzzzzed that you have commmmmme.  Our waiting is ovvvVVVvvvvverrrrrrr.”

“What do you know of me?” asks Kibi.

“You are one the Chaos said would come to free the VreeeeEEEeeeee.”

“Did it say anything about how I might do that?”

“Gazzzzz MurrrRRRrrr knowzzzzzzzz.  He can telllllll youuuuuuu.”

Gul Trez turns to the other Vree guarding the Way.  “Kibilhathur Bimmmmmsonnnnnnn!” he exclaims, and the other Vree start chittering happily.   Step confirms that this one, at least, is not evil.

Kibi clears his throat.  “The last time somebody recognized me, he tried to kidnap me and kill me,” says the dwarf.

“I am glad they did not succeeeeEEEEEEEeeeed.”

“What I’m trying to say is,  we don’t know that we can trust you.  Would you mind if one of our spellcasters used a spell to find out your intentions?”

“Our intention is that youuuuuuu will help us,” says Gul Trez affably.  “Freeeeee us,  return us.  So says Gazzzzz Murrrrrr.”

Gul Trez assents to _detect thoughts_, but its surface thoughts are too alien for Morningstar to comprehend.  She says as much in common.

“Why are you protecting that blue portal?” Kibi asks.

One of the other Vree makes some quick gestures with its arms.  Gul Trez looks Kibi over before speaking again.

“I am tooooOOOOOoooo trussssssting.   You may not beeeEEEEE Kibilhathur BimmmmmmmsonnnNNNnnnn.  Maybe you killed him and are now preteeeeending to be himmmmmm?”  What proof can you offer of whoooOOO you arrRRRRRre?”

Kibi explains this to the others.  Dranko takes out the little statuette of Kibi and shows it to the Vree.

“You havvvvve a friend who izzzzz a sculptor,” says Gul Trez.  Dranko scowls.

“It will be dannnnnnngerous for meeeeEEEEEeeee to allow you innnnn without knoOOOOOOooowing.”

“What proof do you want?” asks Kibi.

That’s a stumper. 

“Hmmm.  Mmmmmmmm.   Hmmmmm.    Youuuuu must wait here.  I will confirmmmmmm with the Abbot, Gazzzzz Murrrrrrr.”

Abbot?  The light goes on.  They’ve found the monastery!

“Kibi!” says Ernie.  “Doesn’t your letter have the name of the Abbot on it? Is it Gaz Mur?”

 “The letter, of course!” says Grey Wolf.  “Show him the letter.”

Kibi fishes out the letter that had been delivered to him back at the Eye of the Storm, and shows it to Gul Trez.

The Vree reaches out with one of the smaller arms and takes it,  waving in front of its many eyes.  

“Wait here, pleazzzzzzze.”  

He goes back to the sphere of fire, a patch of which irises open to allow the Vree to enter.  The party catches another glimpse of blue inside, confirming their suspicion that the Vree are using the fire to guard the Way.

An hour passes.  The Company observes the remaining Vree with curiosity and from a respectful distance.   They note with interest that the Vree standing on personal stone discs are moving them about via telekinesis, rather than a constant recreation.   Also, while they don’t carry any weapons, their bodies and legs are covered with chitinous black plates, and the legs end in sharp claws.  There’s no doubt they’d be fearsome opponents, if it came to that.

Gul Trez returns, appearing as another hole opens on the fiery sphere.  His two front arms are waving around excitedly as he approaches the hangar.  

“It izzzzz youuUUUUuuuuUU!” he exclaims.    "Kibilhathur Bimmmmmsonnnnnnn, and your friends, come with us, come with ussssssss.”

The Vree floats back toward the sphere, and again it opens.  Gul Trez motions for the Company to follow him in.

“Whennnn you go throouuuuuuggh, do not touch anythinnnnnnnnng.  Just followwwwww usssssssss.”

Kibi, translating for the party, says to Dranko:  “Don’t lick anything when you go through the portal.”

“Therrrrrre will be time for that for youuuUUUUuuuuu, later onnnnnnn,” continues Gul Trez, speaking to Kibi.  “By the wayyyyyy, what are yourrrrrrr fooooooood needs?  Dooooo youuuuuu have anyyyyyyyyy?”

“That depends on what you have,” says Kibi.  “Water and bread and nice beef stew would go well.  But we have our own food too, so don’t worry too much about it.”

“We have fruit and veggggetables.  That’s what we growwwwwWWWwwww.”.

“Vegetables aren’t food,” Dranko scoffs.  “That’s what food _eats_."

As the party falls slowly toward the Way, they see that the spiked Slaad head they saw was one of many; there are dozens, forming a loose spherical perimeter around the portal.  It would be hard to approach without getting the hint.

“I’m very impressed with all the slaad that you’ve killed,” Kibi comments.   Gul Trez chitters happily.

The Company goes through the Way, accompanied by Gul Trez and an escort of six other Vree.

After the usual transition between Slices, the party emerges into a place that both is and is not chaotic.    That is, they think they’re still in Limbo, but there’s no raging Chaos to be seen, no frenzy of elemental forces.  There’s a soft, constant ambient light with no visible source.  And they are inside a pair of large, concentric spheres.

The inner sphere, about fifty feet in diameter, is not an enclosed solid.  Rather it is made of wooden and metal stakes tied together with ropes, such that the whole forms a loose skeleton of a sphere.  A strange red energy plays along the ropes, and the whole makes a faint buzzing sound.   The gaps between the ropes are large enough that they could easily leave the sphere without touching the red energy.

The outer sphere is over two hundred feet in diameter, and is solidly enclosed.  It’s a patchwork of metal, wood and multicolored stone.  Way up near the top is a round hatch like a large hobbit-hole door.

The Way through which they’ve come is off-center in both spheres.  Something else occupies the very center – a cage, made of metal and wood, sized for a large humanoid.

Six Vree accompany the party out of the inner sphere, and up to the distant hatch on the outer sphere.   Gravity works the same as in the previous Slice, and it’s liberating to be able to move about without worrying about fireballs, boulders, oceans and lightning storms.  Gul Trez taps on the hatch, and it swings outward.

Outside is a city unlike anything they’ve ever seen.   Its buildings are large spheres floating in the air, all around an area more than a mile on a side.  The spheres are made of solid wood, metal and stone, like smaller versions of the the one from which they’re emerging.  They have windows in them, and round hatches for doors.   In some places multiple spheres are pressed together in multi-dwelling units, while other spheres stand alone.

Sweeping in majestic curves all around the city, connecting the many buildings, are beautiful stone walkways (despite the fact that the Vree can effectively fly).  Streams of water, like rivers without banks or beds, flow through the city like a second network of roads; almost every building has at least one window past which this river flows.

Everywhere are the Vree, dozens of them, maybe hundreds.   Some walk upon the stone pathways, while other fall freely or flit around on personal stone discs.   In the distance, the Company can see large clods of earth gently floating and tilting in the air.   As these islands tilt toward them, they see Vree farmers tilling earth with their claws, and plants and trees growing in abundance.   Everything is lit with a rich, uniform glow that seems to come from everywhere and everything.   The Vree have truly mastered the Chaos, and their monastery is a thing of wonder.

“Yoooooouuu may walk or flyyyyy... whatevvvvvver makes you commmmmfortablllllllllle,” says Gul Trez to Kibi.  “And your serrrrrvantzzzzzzz may join youuuUUUuuuuu.”

“You guys can stay with me,” translates Kibi, trying not to smile.

“The Chaos sayzzzzz that youuuuuu will not be hostile to ussssssss, but in case the Chaos is wronnnnnnng, I should warrrrrrn youuuuuu not to be hostile if you wishhhhhhhh to livvvvvvve.”

“We won’t be hostile if you won’t be,” says Kibi.

“We would not!  Youuuuuu are our saAAAAAaaaaviorrrrrrr!  Thissssssss wayyyy.”

Gul Trez gestures toward a single distant sphere, with many sphere-clusters around it.    As they approach it, they see that it’s larger that most of the others, and its pattern is very chaotic, with haphazard windows and swirling water spiraling around it.  As they watch, an arachnid arm reaches out a window with a container, fills it from the stream running past, and withdraws.  

Gul Trez knocks on the ornate front door.

“Commmeee Innnnnnnnn!”  says a deep voice from within.

The door has a keyhole, meant to accommodate a Vree claw.  Gul Trez inserts the end of one of his legs into it; there’s a click, and the door swings open to reveal a large circular room.   It’s filled with a confusing jumble of strange objects that might be furniture, or art, or have some unknown utility to the Vree.  High up near the (relative) ceiling is a large Vree floating near something that might be a desk.  Papers float about it in loose array, and the Vree snatches these out of the air, presses them to the desk, and writes upon them using one of his front arms.  (The eight main legs are useful for grabbing things, while the front legs are as good as human hands for fine tasks.)  All the many eyes of the Vree swivel to regard the Company, and Kibi in particular.

“Kibilhathur Bimmmmmsonnnnnnn!” booms the Vree.  “The Chaosssss told us you would commmmmmmmme.”

“Well, I got a letter...” says Kibi.

“A letter written by meeeEEEeeeee, many yearzzzzzzz ago.  Aaaaahhh.  Our salvaaaaation is at hand.  We are veryyyyyy happyyyyyyyy that you have decided to commmmmmmme.  Did you have difffffficultiezzzzzzzz?”

So this is Gaz Mur, the abbot of the monastery.

“We killed ten Slaad on the way,” says Kibi.  “They ambushed us with some lion-y creatures out in front.”

“Hmmmmmm.  A stannnnnnndard cowardly slaad tac-tic.  Send in those beazzzzzzzts for the dirty work, cleannnnnnnnn up afterwarrrrrrrd.”

The Vree seems to remember something.

“Excuzzzzzzze me, but are you thirrrrrrrsty?”

“Well, yes,” says the dwarf.

“Nezzzzzzzz!  Water for the guessssssts!”

There’s a clattering from an adjacent room, and a Vree comes floating in.  It stands on four of its legs, with the other legs holding buckets.  When Nez reaches the party he concentrates for a moment, and then releases the buckets so adroitly that they don’t tilt on their own.

“However you creaturezzzzzz drink, you may do so,” says Gaz Mur.  While Kibi drinks straight from the nearest bucket, Dranko pulls out a jeweled goblet and dips it into the water.

“Your servantssssss cup is fine,” says Gaz Mur.  “Why do youuuuuu drink from the bucket?”

Kibi can’t suppress a smile as he turns to Dranko and says, “Gaz Mur says you should give me the cup.”

Dranko hands it over with no small amount of suspicion.  Aravis, suspecting something’s up, casts _tongues_ himself.

Gaz Mur waits while the party drinks.  Then, almost off-handedly, he says, “Weee will need to cast spellzzzzzz upon you to finish the machiiiiiiine.  Izzzzzzz that okay?”

Everyone looks up, alarmed, and none more than Kibi.

“What machine?  What does it do?” asks the dwarf.

“The Chaosssssss said we would neeeEEEEEEeeeeed you, Kibilhathurrrrrr Bimmmmsonnnnn.”

“To do what?”

“Youuuuuuu will fix the uuuuuuuniverse.  You will restore these sliced-off bits of world, including ourzzzzzz.  Then we will be returnnnnnnnned to the grannnnnnnnd Chaos, not this pale imitation.”

“So everyone would go back to the slices they came from?”

“Yessssss.  It is proper.”

“How will this be achieved?”

“Weeeeee will put you innnn the machinnnnnnnnnne...”

Yeah.  About that...

“I’d like to take a good look at it first, to make sure it’s up to, uh,  good engineering standards,” says Kibi.

“And that it doesn’t’ involve rotating knives,” adds Ernie under his breath.

“It should not hurrrrrrt you,” assures Gaz Mur.

“Still,” says Kibi, trying not to betray his nervousness, “I’d like to take a look at it, to understand how it works.”

Quietly, Aravis says to the others, “What if this Chaos, that speaks to the Abbot, is the Black Circle?”

It’s a disturbing thought, and not far-fetched.

“We can’t cast _commune_ or even _augury_ in the Slices, but _something_ is speaking to the Vree,” says Ernie.

“Did the Chaos speak to you before you were in this place?” asks Kibi.

“An astute queszzzzzzztion.  You are not of the Chaos.  Yessssss, the Chaos spoke to us in our lonnnnnnng years of meditation and work.  Then it stopped.  You must know,  Kibilhathurrrrrr Bimmmmsonnnnn, how all this workzzzzzz.  Bits of worlds, strung together.  It is most unnnnnnnnatural.  We were separated from our God, that which spawns the Chaos.  Mmmmm.  Several yearzzzzzzz with no God, no guidance.  But the Chaosssssss spawned a new God, for it cannnnnnot abide without a sourcccccce for long.  It has done its best.  It strings the sliced-away bits of chaos together, trying to reformmmmmm the pure Chaos of our birth.  MMmmmmmm.  But it cannot.  We fear that perhaps the Chaos cannnnnnnot survive.  It fears that, too.  Thus, we must be returned.  Our God, the new Chaos, is young, but it speaks to us, and its wizzzzzzzdom is still abunnnnnndant.”

“Do you know that this new God is a real Chaos god?” asks Kibi.

“Ovvvvvvv course!  We know our own God!  It can reach through and see beyond to other bitsssssss of worlds.  It knew of youuuuuuuu, didn’t it?  We meditate to the new God.  It ssssssspeaks to us.  It is young, its thoughts ill-formed, but...the imporrrrrrtant bits of its messsssssssage were clear.  Is your name not Kibilhathurrrrrr Bimmmmsonnnnn?”

Kibi nods, and thinks for a moment before continuing.

“Do you know anything about some crazy guy traveling around with statues of me?” he asks the Abbot.

Gaz Mur wonders for a moment if he’s understood correctly.

“Nooooo... the Chaossssss has not spokennnnn of a demented person carrying your likenessssssss.”

Kibi shows Gaz Mur the statue.

“It looks just like youuuuuu,” says the Abbot.    “Someonnnnnnnnnnnne is making thezzzzzze for youuuuu?”

“Not for me.  One was found on the body of a demon.” 

Dranko takes the statuette, spits on it, and starts to polish it on his shirt.

“Kibilhathurrrrrr Bimmmmsonnnnn, your servant should treat your likenessssss with more rezzzzzzpect!”

“He says to treat the statue with more respect,” Kibi tells Dranko.

“He thinks you're Kibi’s servant,” adds Aravis, grinning at the two of them.

Dranko turns a bright red.  It was bad enough being the “dim one” back in Green Valley.

“He WHAT?” Dranko roars.  

Kibi has the grace to look sheepish.

“Give me that cup back,” Dranko grumbles.

“It was nice while it lasted,” says Scree to his master.

...to be continued...


Quick question, by the way, for readers.  Would you like me keep writing out the strange speech of the Vree?  Or, having gotten the point by now and finding it annoying or hard to read, would you prefer if I just wrote the Vree dialogue in normal English from here on out?  Let me know!


----------



## dpdx

It's your story, Sagiro. Speaking for myself only, if you can write it, I can get through it.

Good update. Nice little hint of suspicion in the air.


----------



## Fade

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Quick question, by the way, for readers.  Would you like me keep writing out the strange speech of the Vree?  Or, having gotten the point by now and finding it annoying or hard to read, would you prefer if I just wrote the Vree dialogue in normal English from here on out?  Let me know!




I like the strange speech. It reminds me that they're alien.


----------



## Plane Sailing

I think it would be OK to make the vree speech just a little off now - just repeat the final letter a few times and it will capture the strangeness without being so difficult to read (or write, I imagine!)

p.s. was this recorded? Any chance of a Sagiro/vree mp3 

Cheers


----------



## el-remmen

Stick with the crazy moon language, Sagiro. . . .

And uh, if I may ask. . . . Please sir, can we have even more story hour goodness. . . ?


----------



## Hammerhead

Why is it than whenever only one party member is able to speak with the locals, the other ones end up being servants or assistants?


----------



## Piratecat

'Cause Kibi is prejudiced against half-orcs.  *sniff*  Poor Dranko -- no parents, no one loves him, mocked at every turn, abused by dwarves, made to work his poor fingers to the bone. . .


----------



## Fajitas

Can I just express my utmost admiration for the monastery fully of giant spiders?  Superb!


----------



## Enkhidu

Piratecat said:
			
		

> 'Cause Kibi is prejudiced against half-orcs.  *sniff*  Poor Dranko -- no parents, no one loves him, mocked at every turn, abused by dwarves, made to work his poor fingers to the bone. . .




You sure that Kibi's prejudice doesn't come from something else? Maybe something not in the SH? 

I bet Dranko licked him.


----------



## RangerWickett

Piratecat said:
			
		

> 'Cause Kibi is prejudiced against half-orcs.  *sniff*  Poor Dranko -- no parents, no one loves him, mocked at every turn, abused by dwarves, made to work his poor fingers to the bone. . .




His wife loves him.  And . . . and, though it might break her heart to hear this, . . . I love him too.  Because, deep down, don't we all have a little Dranko in us?

. . .

*shifty eyes*

. . .


----------



## Uzumaki

nemmerle said:
			
		

> And uh, if I may ask. . . . Please sir, can we have even more story hour goodness. . . ?



Keep it up, it's working!



			
				RangerWickett said:
			
		

> His wife loves him.



Future wife, anyway... Are there any wedding plans for them? They're in a monastery after all, though a spider wedding would probably be a rather bloody affair. "I now pronounce you husband and wife... You may now eat the groom."


----------



## Micah

Wow! 3 updates. Paternity leave Sagiro?


----------



## Plane Sailing

Uzumaki said:
			
		

> though a spider wedding would probably be a rather bloody affair. "I now pronounce you husband and wife... You may now eat the groom."




ROFLMAO!


----------



## Sagiro

No, no paternity leave yet!  The baby could still come any day, but we're 12 days off the actual due date.  When it happens, I (or maybe PCat or KidC) will post to let you know.  I'm afraid the rate of updates is likely to slow again once I have an infant to take care of, but I'll do what I can.  

In the meantime, I can't resist nemmerle's polite requests.

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 224*_
*Machina Ex Dei*

“Click.  Click hiss click burble slurp clickclick”

Or, as Kibi hears it:

“Areee any of youuuUUUuuu hunnnnnnnnngry?”

Gaz Mur, Abbot of the Vree Monastery, regards his guests with numerous multifaceted eyes.  There is general agreement among the party that yes, some food would not go amiss.

“Weeeeee will have foooOOOood brought to youuuUUUu,” says Gaz Mur.

“That would be very much appreciated,” says Kibi.   Gaz Mur waves three of his arms toward a waiting servant in the back of his spacious round office, and the second Vree flies out through a hatch.

“So,” says Kibi.  “What will happen to me in this Machine?  Do you know how it works, or were you just following instructions?”

“Mmmmmmm... weeeEEeee believe that your magic will go baaaaack through the Portal, and be uuuuuUUuuuused to sunder the unnnnnnnnatural connections that bind all the Slices togetherrrrrrrrrrr.”

Kibi frowns at the notion of sundering.   “Will it... will it harm me?”

“Pruzzzzz Flit says nooooOOOOoo,” answers the Abbot.  “He is most knowledgeable about the Machiiiiiiiiine.  He is the master of mindzzzzzz, and the most immmmmmmmportant person in the monastery, excluding myzzzzzzzelf.”

“The ‘master of minds?'” asks Kibi.   “What does that mean?”

“Look about you!” says the Abbot, motioning to the closest window.  “We are innnnnn the Chaos, yet everything izzz stable, yezzzzz?  Thaaaaaaat does not happen by itself, you knowwwwwww.  He coordinatezzzzzz the effort to keep thingzzzzzz stable at the monastery.”

At Morningstar’s urging, Kibi asks, “Have you ever heard of the Eyes of Moirel?”

“Eyezzzzz of what?  No.  Are they imporrrrrrrrrrrrrtant to you?”

“Well... yes,” says Kibi.

“I can have sommmmmme of my people read through old scrollllllls and bookzzzzz and see of there is mention of themmmmmmm.”

“I’d appreciate that,” says Kibi.  “Did Pruz Flit build the Machine himself?”

“Pruz Flit, yes.  Very busy, Pruz Flit.  Uzzzzzzzually his job is full timmmmmme, be he was able to leave the mmmmmmmmaintenance of the monastery to his key servants while he oversaw the building of the Machiiiiiiiiine.”

The Vree servant comes back into the office with large baskets hanging from all of its legs.  Each basket is filled with an assortment of unrecognized fruits.  There’s a basket for each of them, filled with more food than each of them would normally consume in a week – easily 20 pounds.   Before any of the Company can even decide which fruit to try first, Gaz Mur plunges his head into his own basket, wherefrom comes a truly horrific sound of gobbling and slurping.   They can see the bulges of food swelling the Abbot’s throat as he eats; it’s one of the least appetizing spectacles they’ve ever witnessed.

“Kibi,” asks Morningstar, “Could you ask the Abbot if he’d object to me casting _detect poison_ on the fruits, just in case?”  Kibi does so.  Gaz Mur lifts his head out of his meal.  Strands of thick saliva trail from his mandibles back into his basket of (now mushy) fruit.  Perhaps mindful of his manners, he slurps them into his hairy mouth.  It’s all the members of the Company can do not to get sick right on the spot.

“Pleazzzzze, by all means,” says Gaz Mur.  “We have assumed the foooooood is safe for you, but we cannot be surrrrrre.”

It turns out to be a good idea; some of the fruits register as poison.  Morningstar warns that the small green ones could be dangerous.

Through Kibi, Aravis asks Gaz Mur if the Vree came up with the idea for the Machine in the first place.

“It came from the Source,” explains the Abbot.  “We prayyyyyyed for a way to end this imprizzzzzzzonment, and the Chaotic Source put into our minds the Machinnnnnnnnnne, and the name of Kibilhathurrrrrr Bimmmmsonnnnn.”

There are mixed feelings among the Company about the Vree and their Machine.  They debate it back and forth for a minute or two, while Gaz Mur finishes his meal.

“We could go to one of the other places where people are looking for Kibi,” says Morningstar.  “There’s the Lord of the Roses, and those ant-creatures that sent the assassin.”

“I wonder if they have Kibi Machines too,” says Ernie.

“Even if they do,” says Aravis, “We still won’t know if it’s all a Black Circle plot, or a legitimate way that someone is trying to fix the Slices.”

“And there’s the crazy Black Circle guy making statues of Kibi,” adds Ernie.  “Maybe we could find him.” 

But no one really wants to commit to leaving the Chaos without at least having _tried_ something.  In the end, they leave it up to Kibi.

“Would you like any dezzzzzzzzzzzert?” asks Gaz Mur.

Strangely enough, no one is hungry, and that’s _before_ the servant brings in the dessert basket, full to the brim with squirming white maggots.  Gaz Mur sticks in his proboscis and slurps some out.  Between gulps, he says to Kibi, “Pruzzzzz Flit will need to speeeeeak with youuuuuuu.  There are some calibrationzzzz that still neeeeeeeed to be done on the Machinnnnnnnnnnnnne, for which youuuUUUuuuu are nezzzzzessaryyyy.”:

“And they have to fit you to the shackles,” says Ernie jokingly under his breath.

With the meal and interview over, Gaz Mur asks about the biped’s preferred sleeping arrangements, and says it will all be taken care of.  Pruz Flit will likely want to speak with Kibi as soon as possible, but the rest of the party is free to go where they wish until they want to sleep.

“Is there anywhere we shouldn’t go?” asks Grey Wolf.

“If youuuuu go too farrrrrrr, you will leave the boundzzzzzz of the stability, so beware.  Alzzzzzo, there is another one of the Bluuuuuuue Portalzzzz out of here.  You may go through if you wish; it should be safer for youuuuuuu.  It goes to a place where all is air and bluuuue.”

“That sounds terrible!” says Kibi.  

“An elemental plane I haven’t been to yet!” says Dranko.  “It’ll be another notch on my belt.”

Aravis, Dranko, Step, Snokas and Grey Wolf are curious about this place of air and blue, and head that way.  Before they go, Morningstar casts a _telepathic bond_ on Dranko, Aravis, Grey Wolf and Kibi.

“Kibi,” says Scree, “Let’s not go there under _any_ circumstances.”  Kibi nods.

“So what do you think about this Machine?” he asks his Familiar.

“I don’t think I trust it,” says Scree.  “We don’t know anything about it.  Perhaps we should go take a look.”

Since this Pruz Flit fellow wants to talk to them anyway, that sounds like a good plan.  The four of them leave Gaz Mur and head back across the monastery.   It takes some practice to use the walkways, since they bend and twist like pieces of disconnected Moebius strip.  They constantly have to adjust their personal gravity to stay upright.

Meanwhile, the others find Gul Trez waiting for them nearby.

“Hellllo,” he says.  “Do you neeeeed me to guide you about?”

“Yes,” says Aravis.  “We’d like to see the portal that goes to the Plane of Air.”

Gul Trez makes some agitated chattering sounds.  “Mmmmm... caaaaaan you survive there?  WeeEEEEEe cannot.”

“Why not?” asks Aravis.  “Is it dangerous?”

“It izzzzz not Chaosssss,” explains Gul Trez.  “We loooozzzze our life energyyyyy when removvvvved frommmm the Chaosssss.  It izzzzz part of ussss.”

“We can survive,” says Aravis, nodding.  “Don’t worry.”

“Then followww meeeeee,” says Gul Trez, falling away backward like a plummeting tour guide.  Gul Trez leads the five of them to the blue Way; it’s larger than most they’ve seen, over ten feet on a side.   What catches their eye, though, is about fifty yards beyond it: the border of the monastery.  It’s not a sharp dividing line, but the light slowly fades into a great blackness, and out in the depths they can see distant flashes of red and orange light of fire lightning in the vastness.  It’s a sobering reminder that they’re still in the heart of Limbo, albeit in a safe oasis.  Dranko gazes out at the turbulent morass, then looks over his shoulder at the floating spheres of the monastery.

“You know,” he says, “when we succeed, which with luck and Delioch’s blessing we will, we’re going to go home to our own world... and it’s going to be so frikkin’ _boring!_.

“Oh, come on,” says Aravis.  “We’ll get into some sort of trouble before too long.”

“And if we don’t, it’ll come looking for us,” adds Grey Wolf, nodding.   Dranko perks up at the thought.

Grey Wolf, Snokas and Step hold the ropes tied to Dranko and Aravis, and those two jump through into the Way.  After the transition they find themselves hanging in empty air, and since their minds instinctively decide on an “up,” they start to plummet.  Their ropes pay out rapidly until they readjust their gravity.  There are no clouds, no local fauna, and no geographic features of any kind – just a uniform pale blue light and empty air in every direction.  Only the Way itself offers a frame of reference.  Dranko practices some corkscrew maneuvers while flying, and is clearly getting the hang of it before he is stopped cold.   It’s not that he slams into anything, but rather he comes to a sudden halt, like he’s settled into an invisible cushion that's stolen all of his momentum.  

“Did you do that?” he calls out to Aravis.  The wizard shakes his head.  Dranko realigns his gravity to fall back toward the Way, and that works just fine.  

“I bet I know what’s going on,” says Aravis.  "We must be in a very small Slice, and you just found the edge.”

To confirm his belief, he casts _true seeing_, which makes Slice boundaries appear as opaque gray “walls.”  He sees that this Slice is actually shaped like a tall elevator shaft, not much more than fifty yards across, but extending both “up” and “down” as far as he can see.   Dranko falls back into one of the Slice-borders and lounges there, staring across at the glowing Way as if reclining on a perfect feather-bed.    

 * *

Kibi and the others set out along the curling stone walkways toward the Machine.  Flicker prefers to fall/fly, but Kibi and Ernie have a strong preference for solid ground beneath their feet.  A Vree coming the other way scuttles around to the (relative) underside of the path to let them pass.  Others wave at them; in all they seem a very friendly and polite people.

Halfway to their destination, they pass a large floating stone platform that had been empty on their way in.  Now there are fifteen Vree upon it, performing gymnastic combat drills.  The Vree leading the exercises spots them, gets a subordinate to take over, and falls to greet them.

“HelllooooooOOOOoooo,” says the Vree in a low, grumbly voice.  “Is one of you Kibilhathurrrrrr Bimmmmsonnnnn?”

“Yes, I am,” Kibi answers.  “Your drills are very impressive.”

“Thank youuuuuuuu.”  The Vree turns to Ernie.  “What is yourrrr name?”

“Ernest Roundhill, at your service and your families’.”

“And you?” he asks Morningstar.

“Morningstar, Shield of Ell.”

“What is an Elllllllll?” asks the Vree.

“It’s her God,” says Kibi.  “Like the Chaos is for you.”

“You have your ownnnnn Chaosssss?” asks the Vree, impressed.   “And do youuuuu protect it, Shield?”

“Yes,” says Morningstar.

“Good.  Verrrry good.  My name is Tizzzzzzz Mot; I am the masssssster of Clawzzzzzzz.  I must keep the trooooooops in shape, so we can best fight the Slaaaaaaaadi.”

“We fought against the Slaad ourselves,” says Kibi, a bit proudly.

“Szzzzzzzo, I have heard.  Howwwww many did you killlllll?”

“Eight or nine,” answers the dwarf.  “And a dozen of those spiky lion-things.”

“Where are you going?” asks Tiz Mot, changing the subject.

“We’re going to take a look at the Machine,” says Kibi.

“Mmmmmmmmm.”  Tiz Mot’s forelegs twitch nervously.  “The Machine, hey?  Have you szzzzzztudied it?”

“No,” admits Kibi.

In a softer voice, Tiz Mot says, “I don’t truszzzzzzt the Machinnnnne.”

That’s discomfiting!  

“You don’t?” asks Kibi.  “Why not?”

“Hmmmmm... I say this to you in confidence, Kibilhathurrrrrr Bimmmmsonnnnn.  I don’t think that Pruzzzzz Flit properly understandzzzz it.  I’d be warrrrry if I were youuuuuuu.”

“What do _you_ think the Machine does?” asks Kibi.

“I don’t knnnnnnnow,” answers Tiz Mot.  “The problem izzzzzz, I don’t think Pruzzzzzzzz Flit knowzzzzzzz either.”

“They want me to go in it,” says Kibi nervously.

“Of courszzzzzze.  We alllllllll hope it workzzzzzzzzz.” 

Morningstar asks,  “When the Chaos talk to Gaz Mur, are the things it says usually right?”

“Yessssss.  But the newwwwww Chaossssss has not been tesssssted over timmmmmme.”

“And when you worship the Chaos,” she continues, “do you have rituals?”

“The Chaossssss permeatezzzzs us.  It sometimezzzzz speaks; only Gazzzzzz Mur understands its meaning, but it commmmmmmforts all of us.  We can feeeeeeeel the trepidationnnnnn of the new Chaossssss.  It knowszzzzzzz the universe mussssssst be healed, or it will perishhhhhh.”

Tiz Mot looks around again, and then starts to drift back to the stone platform.  “Iiiiiii must go back to my drillzzzzzz; I juszzzzzzzt wanted to introduuuuuuce myselffff.”  

When he has gone out of earshot, Ernie remarks, “It’s interesting to know that not everyone thinks the Machine is a good idea.”

“Hmph,” says Kibi, frowning.  “I had been leaning toward using the Machine, since we have no better options, but now I’m not sure.”

Soon the four of them reach the Machine Sphere.  There are two Vree guarding the Hatch.  

“Gruzzzzz Flit was hoping youuuuuu would stop byyyyyyy,” says one of the Vree.  It opens the hatch and lets them in

The Machine is not a thing of gears and cogs; it’s just a ring of floating wooden and metal stakes.   (Imagine a large ball with a bunch of toothpicks stuck edgewise to it, all over its surface.  Now take away the ball, and connect the toothpicks with ropes.  That’s the Machine.)  Its only other “features” are the red energy playing along the ropes, and the metal cage in the center.  Several Vree busy themselves around the Machine, and it’s clear that one of them is in charge.

“Hello!” calls Kibi.  “Are you Pruz Flit?”

“MMMmmmmmm...yessss, I am Pruzzzzz Flit.  And who are youUUUuuuuuu?”

Pruz Flit, Master of Minds, is ecstatic to learn that Kibilhathur Bimson has arrived.   “Thank youuuuuUUuuu for coming!” he says loudly.  “We will neeeeed you!”

“Would you mind if we cast some spells to look at the Machine?” Kibi asks.  

“Pleazzzze do.  Just don’t harmmmm it, or interfere with it.”

“May I touch it?” asks Kibi.

“Only where I innnndicate it’s safffffffe,” warns Pruz Flit.  “Come over and I will showwwwwww you.”

They wait while Ernie and Morningstar spend a few minutes praying for new spells.  Kibi warns Pruz Flit that his _tongues_ will run out soon,  but that Ernie will be able to talk to him instead.

“It’s uzzzzzzeful to have servantzzzzzz, izzz it not?” says Pruz Flit.

“Oh, they’re my friends, not servants,” says Kibi.  If it's not Dranko as the presumed servant, it's just not as fun a pretense!

Morningstar casts _true seeing_, Ernie casts _tongues_, and Kibi casts _detect magic_.

Looking with _true seeing_, Morningstar doesn’t see any difference – there’s nothing invisible, or illusionary, or disguised.  The Vree themselves are not magic, either.  _Detect magic_ shows Kibi that the Machine is indeed highly magical.  He senses varying types of magic on the Machine – some transmutation, some enchantment, a small amount of necromancy, and a significant amount of abjuration.  It’s a very complicated thing, thaumaturgically speaking. 

“If I go into the Machine, asks Kibi, “and it seems to be malfunctioning, or it hurts me in some way, and I’m forced to _teleport_ out, would that cause any extra problems?”

“If it wazzzz in the middle of worrrrRRrrrrking, and youuuuu were suddenly remooooooved from it, I don’t know what would happen, but it would not be gooooooood, I imagine.  Howeverrrrrrr, if you find you are in painnnnnnn, or _sure_ it is malfunctioning. I suggest you leeeeeeeave it.  Weeeeeee would not want anything to happen to youuuuuuuu.  We would neeeeeeeeed to rebuild the Machinnnnnnne and try again.  And we would neeeeeed you alive and healthy for thaaaaaat.”

Pruz Flit pokes one of his legs at one of the stakes.  “Hold that,” he instructs.  Kibi starts to reach, but stops.

“First, could you explain exactly how this works, and what it does?” he asks.

“Yesssszzz,” says Pruz Flit.  “I can speak of what happenzzzzzz.  The Chaosssssss has talked to meeEEeeeee.”

“Oh!  The Chaos speaks to you?”

“Yesssss... to me, and to Gazzzzzz Murrrrrrr.  The Abbot is more spirrrrrrritual, but I understand magiczzzzzzz better, so the Chaosssss speaks to me... in more technical termzzzzzzz.”

“So what does it do?” presses Kibi.

“You will go into that Chammmmmmber.,” says Pruz Flit, pointing to the cage with a pointy claw.  “It will analyzzzzze and amplify your essssssssence, and project it back throuuuuuuuugh the Portal, where it will intermingle with the interstices betweeeeeeeen the Slices.  There will be feedback... controllllllled, _safe_ feedback; it will sunder the various linksssssss and restore all of our worldzzzzzz to their proper placezzzzzzz.”

“How do you know that breaking the links will restore the worlds?” asks Kibi.

“Becauzzzzzz the Chaosssssss says so,” says Pruz Flit patiently.

“And how does the Chaos knows how all this works?”

“The Chaosssssss is a God,” says Pruz Flit.  “It knowzzzzzzz more than I.”

This exchange isn’t doing much for Kibi’s confidence. 

“Has the Chaos looked at your Machine and approved it for use?” he asks.

“The Chaossssssss is happy with our progressssssss,” answers Pruz Flit.

“It’s going to take my Essence?”

“No.  It will uzzzzzze your Essssssence, but not take it frommmmmmm youuuuu.”

“What’s so special about _my_ Essence?  Why me?”

“You are infuzzzzzzed with the same kind of magic that is rezzzzzponsible for all of thissssss,” says Pruz Flit, waving two of his arms around vaguely.

“But you didn’t use that magic in making the Machine,” says Kibi.

“I do not havvvvvvve that magic,” says the Vree.  “If I had it, perhapsssss _I_ could be in the Machinnnnnnne.   Now, there are some calibrationzzzzzzz that have to be done firsssssst.”  

Ernie asks:  “What happens to us when everything gets sundered?  Do we go back to our own world, or would we be stuck here?”

“Hmmmmmm,” ponders Pruz flit.  “You’d probably szzzzzzztay here.  Do you have meanzzzzzz to travel from the Chaosssssss back to your home?”

“I think we could,” says Kibi.

At Pruz Flit’s direction, Kibi grabs one of the metal posts, and some of the red energy is attracted to his hands.  He feels a mild tingle run up his arms.  Pruz Flit rests a claw on Kibi’s hand.  “Pleazzzzzzze keep your hand there for ten minutezzzzzz, while I pray to the Chaosssssss.”

While Pruz Flit does whatever it he’s doing, the others talk it over.

“I’d like to get out of the Slices as much as anyone,” says Morningstar, “But shouldn’t we try to get the Eye first?”

“Yeah,” says Kibi, a bit distractedly.  “The question is, is the Eye of Moirel physically in a Slice, or is it ‘behind the curtain’ somehow, and we can _only_ get it by breaking up the Slices _first._  If only you could still talk to Ell.”

Dranko (who has been listening in via the _telepathic bond_), thinks:  “Maybe when we break everything apart, the rooms of the original tower – like the bedroom, and that cloak closet – will just go back to being in the tower again.  And the Eye will probably be in one of those rooms.”

“So we’ll want to be _in_ one of those rooms when everything breaks apart,” thinks Aravis.

“Excuuuuuuzzzzee meeeeee,” interrupts Pruz Flit.  “Could you get inside the Chamberrr, pleazzzzzze?”

The door to central cage is already open, so Kibi adjusts his gravity to fall slowly into it.  It’s quite spacious, big enough to hold three or four creatures Kibi’s size.   The tingling feeling intensifies and spreads out through his body.  It gets stronger as time goes by, feeling to him as if, were he to think of his body as a vessel for his life energy, that someone has dipped a rod into it and is now vigorously stirring.  Pruz Flit walks around on outside of the cage, taking measurements, praying to the Chaos, or both.  

After a few minutes of this, the Vree announces, “You may leeeeeeave nowwwww.  I think I will beeee readyyyyy in another day or twooooooo, but I would like youuuu to be available to meeeeeee in the meantime.”

Aravis has been thinking about what breaking up the Slices will mean, and now speculates that if Het Branoi is still bigger on the inside than the outside, it would be its own demiplane, and thus they could _plane shift_ into it. Once there they could _teleport_ to any part of it they’d already seen.  So at least they have something of a plan, if everything else goes well.

“What does the Chaos tell you, generally?” asks Kibi.

Despite the fact that Ernie is now the one translating, Pruz Flit still talks directly to Kibi.

“It has told usssss that we were saffffffffe.  Sometimezzzzzz it helpsssss direct us against the Slaaaaaaaaaaadi.”

That’s not exactly what Kibi was getting at, but Pruz Flit becomes distracted by some of his servants and wanders off.  They head out of the Machine Sphere, still arguing over whether to have Kibi brave the Machine, and whether this is all a big Black Circle plot, and what the chances are that Pruz Flit really knows what’s going to happen.   They all meet up back outside the Abbot’s house, where one of the Vree tells them that a house has been prepared for them to sleep.

Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.

...to be continued...


----------



## el-remmen

Thank you, good sir.

Might I trouble you for some more?


----------



## Hammerhead

Poor Dranko. Ironically though, he seems to be the only one in Het Branoi who is actually ENJOYING his experiences.


----------



## Enkhidu

Methinks Dranko has Horizon Walker in his level-up future.


----------



## Piratecat

Hammerhead said:
			
		

> Poor Dranko. Ironically though, he seems to be the only one in Het Branoi who is actually ENJOYING his experiences.




Oh, yeah. . . Dranko's having a blast.  He's with his friends, and ANYWHERE is better than Tal Boring or Verdshane.  He'd rather lick one of the cleaners* than go back to those hellholes.

Of course, in retrospect, he'd have to get his own world back before he COULD go back to Tal Boring or Verdshane. But you know what I mean. In comparison at least Limbo is exciting, and getting to bed down on the elemental plane of air is downright fun. Just think, when he's an old reprobate leering at serving girls in his palace, he can bore stuffy old nobles by launching into improbable stories about things they'll think never actually happened.**

* Not the janitor. The things that supposedly destroy the slices when someone closes up a portal, or so we've been told. Important distinction.

** For those of you who have read George MacDonald Fraser's novels, Dranko and Flashman have a lot in common in this regard.


----------



## Fade

If this is a Black Circle plot (which certainly doesn't seem impossible) we have to ask ourselves what it's a plot to _do_. They've already won, they don't need to bring the plains into alignment any more because they've always been on Charagan. Their available actions at the moment would seem to be defensive (foil the Company's plots) rather than proactive.


----------



## Plane Sailing

Piratecat said:
			
		

> He'd rather lick one of the cleaners*




Analogous to the Langoliers?


----------



## KidCthulhu

Fade said:
			
		

> If this is a Black Circle plot (which certainly doesn't seem impossible) we have to ask ourselves what it's a plot to _do_. They've already won, they don't need to bring the plains into alignment any more because they've always been on Charagan. Their available actions at the moment would seem to be defensive (foil the Company's plots) rather than proactive.




Actually, the Black Circle (at least in our "real world") haven't won.  They were one of the two groups we shut down.  The Sharshun are the ones who changed the time line around.  

The Black Circle, however, are up to no good in Het Brunoi, I can assure you.  I think the party's concern is that when all the clerics in the slices have lost access to their deities, you've got to wonder where these "divine messages" are coming from.  It's not that we don't trust the Vree, we just don't trust their information source.


----------



## el-remmen

Personally, if i were playing in this game I would feel as trapped and frustrated as if I were playing in my own game  

Travel between the slices just seems so harrowing and there are so many other possibilities and areas and to check out (or that I would want to check out) before risking the Machine - but the logistics of traveling here and there to do it just so weighty. . . 

Good work, Sagiro!  Way to make them sweat!


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> Analogous to the Langoliers?




That's what I imagined when they were mentioned.

GW


----------



## Fimmtiu

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> Analogous to the Langoliers?




Perhaps a better analogy might be to a celestial garbage-collection thread.


----------



## Mishihari Lord

*juxtaposition*

You know, it just occured to me that about a year (?) ago the Company essentialy switched roles with the Black Circle.  The Circle was described as a group of mostly nice, polite, conscientious types who were working very had to bring about the end of the world.  This also seems to describe the Company at present since the universe they're in will presumably end when they set things right.

Does this sound right or am I just imagining things?


----------



## Sagiro

Mishihari, you're mostly right.  On Kivia, the Black Circle practitioners _are_ thought of as benign, if mysterious.  It's not clear how eeeeevil they are.  On Charagan, the Black Circle was considered an eeeeeevil cult, and was thought eradicated some hundreds of years ago.  Clearly, as Mokad demonstrated, "eradicated" was something of an overstatement.

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

And now, one of my favorite runs of the whole campaign.  

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 225*_
*Taken to the Cleaners*

When Gaz Mur had inquired as to the Company’s preferred sleeping arrangements, they had specified “something soft.”  Such things are in short supply in the Monastery, but the Vree are nothing if not resourceful.  When the party enters the sphere given over to them for the “night,” they find nine floating wooden slabs of just the right size – each covered in a squishy layer of fruit.

“Make it easier to have a midnight snack,” says Flicker.

After the Vree servants leave them, the Company starts to clear off the fruit (which still floats around the sphere) and lay out their bedrolls.

“I’m actually thinking about going back to the Elemental Plane of Air to sleep,” says Dranko half-seriously.

“Bad idea,” says Grey Wolf.

“I’ll go with you,” offers Flicker, who is quite jealous of those who went there.

“Worse idea,” says Aravis.  When Flicker whines, Aravis continues, “There could be hostile air elementals we just didn’t happen to run into.”

“And we did have that squid problem in the Elemental Plane of Water,” Dranko points out.

“What could possible go wrong?” asks Flicker, who hasn’t really been listening as he cleans the fruit from his bed.

“Flicker,” says Aravis, “were you paying any attention to what we just said?”

“Of course I have!  And I sincerely doubt there’s going to be a giant squid on the Elemental Plane of Air.”

“Air elementals,” says Aravis, wondering why he’s bothering.  “We said air elementals.”

Flicker knows it’s pointless, but can’t stop from trying.  “Air elementals are friendly, like Oa Lyanna,” he says.

“Right,” says Morningstar.  “And no air creatures have ever tried to hurt us.  Like that death mist in God’s Thorn.  Or that living storm we ran away from before we found the Inn.”

“Besides,” says Aravis, “Oa Lyanna is an air _spirit_.  I’m worried about the actual _elementals._”

“Air this, air that,” says Flicker.  “I want to try it!  I didn’t get to try it!”

“Take a look around you,” says Morningstar, motioning to the floating beds and drifting fruit.  “Have you ever tried _this?_

“Well, the beds _are_ pretty tasty,” admits Flicker.  “Oh, all right, fine.  But I’m gonna try the plane of air tomorrow.”

Eager to change the subject, Kibi asks, “How do people feel about me getting in that Machine and trying to blow the world apart?  Any yeas or nays?”

“Nay,” says Ernie, but he’s the only one to offer an immediate opinion. 

“Maybe we should all get in the Machine with you,” Dranko offers.

“I vote a big “nay” on that one,” says Aravis.  “I have a bad feeling about this, but I don’t see that we have any choice.”

“We could always try the Lord of the Roses,” says Dranko.  But no one else cares for that idea, after their experience with Srapa.

“We don’t just want to go from Slice to Slice forever,” Dranko continues.  “If Kibi goes into the Machine, it’s not likely to make things any _worse_ that they are now.”

On that thought, they sleep.


* *


The next day the Company is left to their own devices, though Kibi is told to be “on call” in case Pruz Flit needs him.  The Vree are a friendly folk, and among them there is a growing excitement as word spreads that Pruz Flit will soon be activating the Machine, returning them to the true unbounded Chaos.   The party meets two more Vree Masters – Poz Gar and Haraz Lum.  Poz Gar is the Master of Stores, whose job it is to keep the monastery provisioned.  He can’t quite hide the fact that he finds the humanoids rather repulsive to look at, but is perfectly polite all the same.  Haraz Lum, Master of Prayers, is the only Vree the Company finds unfriendly, coming across as a snooty xenophobe.

Part way through the day Tiz Mot, Master of Claws, finds Kibi again.  Have youuuuuuu decided to go into the machiiiiiiiine?” he asks.  It’s clear right away that he still has doubts.

“We don’t have any better ideas,” Kibi answers.  “It’s a shame we can’t test it first, before Pruz Flit turns it on for real.”

Ernie spends some time with Tiz Mot as well, hoping to pick up some fighting tips if they run into more Slaad.  It’s not a total waste of time, though Vree combat maneuvers aren’t generally applicable to bipeds.

Flicker has a blast flying around in the Plane of Air, and no native creatures show themselves to cause trouble.  All of them eat more fruit and wander around the Monastery.    Kibi spends some time with Pruz Flit as he calibrates the Machine, while Scree, who hates floating and falling, stays safely inside his master’s extradimensional _familiar pocket_.  

By the end of the “day,” Pruz Flit announces that he should be ready for full activation first thing tomorrow.  Kibi thinks to ask if having a _telepathic bond_ cast upon him could mess up the Machine.  Pruz Flit thinks it should be harmless, and is in favor of the idea.

“Onnnnn the off chance that something doezzzzzz go amiss, it would be uuuuuuuuseful to be in telepathic comuuuunicationnnnnn with people who could helllllllllllp youuuUUuuuuu.”

That leads to talk about imbuing Scree with spellcasting ability in case Kibi becomes incapacitated, which in turn leads to the question about where Scree will be when the Machine is turned on.

“Can Scree come with me?” asks Kibi.  “He’s my Familiar, and we share the same essence.”

“I’m sure the Eyes of Moirel won’t mess anything up,” says Dranko under his breath.

“Maybe you should calibrate the Machine with Scree inside,” suggests Ernie.

Pruz Flit thinks that’s a fine idea.  After Morningstar casts a _telepathic bond_, the Vree invites Kibi and Scree into the cage at the center of the Machine, while instructing the others (now gathered nearby) to float a ways back so as not to interfere.  Scree is extremely unhappy with the arrangement, since he has no choice but to float around Kibi.  Adrift in the Chaos the earth elemental panics for a moment and “clings” to Kibi, which is to say that Kibi finds himself covered with rocks.

“Now just wait a minnnnnute,” says Pruz Flit.  “Things should be finnnnnne.  Pleazzzzzzze hold on to the ChammmmmmberrrRRrrrrr.”

Kibi grasps the bars of the cage, and as it has on all previous calibrations, the red energy is drawn to his hands.   It’s warm, but not at all painful.  Pruz Flit busies himself at the surface of the Machine’s sphere.  After two minutes of recalibration, there is a sudden and violent surge of the energy, flowing down Kibi’s arms and directly into Scree.  In seconds the Familiar is glowing a bright, vibrant red, and seconds after that there are two bright flashes of light from inside Scree’s body – one green, and one purple.  The red energy playing along the Machine’s latticework starts to mix with green and purple light.   

A thick, continuous bolt of red energy fires out of the cage and strikes the nearby blue Way.

“Is that supposed to happen yet” Dranko yells down to Pruz Flit.

Pruz Flit starts to make high-pitched whimpering sounds.

The energy beam flowing from the Machine to the Way gets brighter and more intense over the next few seconds.  The Machine’s sphere starts to glow an almost opaque red and the others can barely make out Kibi’s shape inside of it.  Kibi himself finds (to his horror) that his hands are stuck fast to the bars of the cage.

“I can’t let go!” he thinks urgently to the others in the _telepathic bond_.  

Pruz Flit is still scrambling around on the Machine.  “MmmmmmMMMMMmmmmMMMMMMM... Whatzzzzzzzzzz going onnnnnnn?!” he cries.   The red energy stream is now pouring into the Way, and it’s quite clear to everyone that this calibration exercise has officially gotten out of hand.

----------------------------------
_Flashback.  Mercury, the centaur owner of the Eye of the Storm, speaks.  “Have any of you, out of curiosity, gone through one of the gray Ways?  There are many places that border on the prime planes, like the Astral and the Ethereal.  The Slices are bounded in a similar way, but not by those more familiar planes.  They are bounded by something… stranger.  And in that realm live… things.  And these things are attracted by a Way that is not… breathing.  By a closed Way.  These things devour  Slices and everything in them.  When the Slice is gone, all of the Ways into it go dead, gray.  I pray that none of us ever see them.   Aristus did, once.  He won’t talk about it, so don’t ask him.”_
----------------------------------

From the Way there comes a horrible tearing sound.  Ten feet above and bit to the left of the glowing blue portal, a gash is rent in the fabric of space.   Looking through that jagged rift, the Company sees a blackness dotted with stars, the sight of which is faintly nauseating.  It instantly reminds Grey Wolf and Ernie of their brief trip through one of the gray “burned out” Ways.

Through that rift comes a mottled green-brown tentacle.   It’s three feet in diameter, at least fifteen feet long, and it flails about spasmodically.  As it does so, the tear in space gets wider.

“Kibi, make it stop!” shouts Ernie.

Pruz Flit wails in his alien voice that only Kibi understands.  “Whatzzzzzz going onnnnnnn? Whatzzzzz happeninnnnnnnnng?”

“I can’t move!” thinks Kibi again.  “Someone help me!”

Pruz Flit’s servants are fleeing rapidly toward the hatch in the larger spherical room that houses the Machine.  Kibi can barely hear the sound of Pruz Flit now above the humming din around him.  “Somethingzzzzz gone horrrrrribly wronnnnnnnnnng.  Wronnnnnnnnnnnnnng!”

“I guess this answers our question about whether we should use the Machine,” says Dranko hoarsely.   


* * 


All of this has happened in less than fifteen seconds.  Now that it’s clear that the calibration has become a disaster, the Company springs into action.  Grey Wolf falls toward the Machine, and when he reaches the shell of pulsing red energy, tentatively reaches out his hand to touch it.  It’s a tingly, electrical feeling, but not damaging or painful, and it doesn’t impede his progress.  “We can get through this!” he shouts back.

That’s all the others need to hear.  Snokas falls _through_ the Machine’s exterior sphere, smashing aside ropes and stakes on his way to Kibi’s aid.  Ernie and Step are right behind him.

Dranko grabs his whip, falls to within fifteen feet of the tentacle, and lashes.  He strikes true, but the weapon doesn’t leave a mark, and the thrashing of the tentacle doesn’t lessen.  Morningstar follows up by casting  _chill seeds_ and hurling an acorn at the tentacle.  It impacts and bursts in a blast of cold fire, but when the explosion clears it hardly seems to have damaged the thing at all.

Aravis thinks of the Maze.  Each time he has tried to use it since the Battle of Verdshane, he has failed.  The effort he exerted had injured the parts of his brain that interfaced with the Maze; trying to access it has since resulted in a fuzzy pain in his head.  Nevertheless, he thinks that if the Maze can seal planar boundaries, maybe he can use it to close off this rift in space.   He concentrates and tries to enter its reality.

He fails again, feeling a twinging pain in his head, but for the first time he feel like it’s a localized pain.  If it were his leg, he’d say that the swelling had finally gone down, but the muscle was still pulled or torn.   Interesting...

KKKkkkkkkkkkkkkkrrrrrrrrrrkkkkkkkkk!  Four more tentacles come tearing through space around the Way, all whipping around in a frenzy.  They’re tearing the world apart as they move, leaving more gaping rents through which the nauseating star-field can be seen.  Red energy continues to pour out of Kibi and the Machine and into the Way itself, which is now glowing a bright purple as the red energy mixes with its usual blue color.

“Cleaners!” Dranko shouts, understanding now what’s happening.  “We’ve got to get everyone out through the other portal!”

It’s a sure bet that no one’s going out through this one; a huge tentacle, thick as a barrel and long as a barn is tall, comes bursting out directly through the Way.   The glowing portal fades quickly from its purple color to a sickly gray.  One of the smaller tentacles whips out at Dranko, smacking him in the chest and sending him reeling backward toward the others.

With the Way effectively dead, the energy flow out of the Machine abruptly stops, and Kibi’s hands are released from the bars of the cage.   He and Scree flee through the cage door, now clustered with incoming would-be rescuers.    All of them adjust their gravity and fall straight for the hatch, away from the Cleaners.  Ernie shouts at Kibi, “tell them it’s the Cleaners!” but the Vree have by this time fled out of the larger sphere.   Behind them they hear more terrible ripping sounds as more gashes are torn into the Slice.  Aravis looks back and sees that the various smaller tears are starting to merge into larger ones, as if the plane is being replaced, or perhaps erased, by the unnatural void.  He guesses that they have at least a few minutes before the Cleaners subsume the large sphere that houses the Machine, though it’s possible that their rate of unmaking will increase.   As they approach the exit hatch, Aravis shares his thoughts about the Maze injury with Morningstar and Ernie.  They agree that _restoration_ or _greater restoration_ might help.

Pruz Flit is waiting for them just outside the hatch.  “Are youuuuUUUUUuuuuu okaaaaayyyyyyyy?” he asks fearfully.

“Do you have a way to escape other than through that portal?” asks Kibi, pointing back toward the now-dead Way.

“Only the Plane of Air, and weeee will dieeeeee therrrrre,” bemoans the Vree.

“Is there anything _beyond_ that plane?”

“We havvvvvve not explorrrrred therrrrrre,” says Pruz Flit.

“Once we’re through,” says Morningstar, “I’ll _find the path_ to the closest Way out, and we’ll try getting the Vree to someplace where they _can_ survive.”

“We have no other option,” says Dranko, listening to the increasingly loud sounds of Cleaners shredding the fabric of space.  “This plane is going to be destroyed.”

Ernie casts _tongues_, and he and Kibi (along with Pruz Flit) start to fly around the monastery, telling all they see what has happened, that the Vree should gather what food they can carry and meet at the Way to the Plane of Air.  The word quickly spreads.   Dranko, Flicker and Step head toward their quarters to gather the party’s gear, while Grey Wolf uses his backup magic sword to cast _restoration_ on Aravis.   It doesn’t help, though Aravis feels like it was the right idea – just not strong enough.  Ernie asks Pruz Flit how long the Vree can survive in the Plane of Air, and is told that while no one is sure, he’d guess two or three hours.  “Good, good,” says Ernie.  “We don’t think it’s a very big Slice, and we can probably get you all to the next one in that time.”

“But izzzzz there Chaosssssss beyonnnnnnd?” asks Pruz Flit.

“We don’t know,” admits Ernie.

“It’s a better chance than you’ve got staying here,” says Morningstar.  The sounds of tearing reality from inside the Machine’s outer sphere grow louder all the time.

“Whyyyyy did the Chaosssss let this haaaaappennnnnnnnn?” laments Pruz Flit.

“I’m not sure it was the Chaos,” says Ernie, thinking still of the Black Circle.

“But the Chaossss spoke to meeeeeeeeeeee!”

Ernie answers, “Sometimes when you want something very very much, you hear what you want to hear.”

Morningstar uses her _gem of recall_ to fill an empty spell slot with _greater restoration_.  Even though it will take ten minutes for her to cast it, they _should_ have that long before the Cleaners reach the remaining working Way.  The Vree as a whole are staying remarkably calm and organized, and soon are all gathered in the vicinity of the Way.   Aravis explains that if things go well, he might need to draw on Vree life-force using the Maze, and the arachnids seem to understand.

There’s a terrible sound of splintering wood and shattering metal as the huge sphere that once surrounded the Machine is destroyed.  Dozens upon dozens of tentacles burst out; the whole of what once was the interior is now starry void.    The Vree mill around nervously as Morningstar casts her spell on Aravis, while the deadly work of the Cleaners draws ever closer.

Ten minutes later she touches Aravis’s head and effects a _greater restoration_.  The Cleaners have erased about half the Monastery and there are now hundreds of tentacles ripping and shredding their way through the Slice.  Some of them are over 20 feet in diameter and over a hundred feet long.  It’s hard to get any sense of visual perspective where normal space has been expunged, and Dranko thanks Delioch that he was bludgeoned and not erased when the tentacle struck his chest.  He thinks back to when the Company _summoned_ a squid to set off a Black Circle trap, and wonders if this is not some kind of cosmic justice being applied.

The Vree are huddled closer around the Way into Air, but are holding off going through as long as they dare.  Tiz Mot is staring at Pruz Flit in what the party guesses is extreme disappointment.  It’s loud, as the sound of chittering Vree mixes with the increasingly-less-distant sounds of disintegrating universe. 

Aravis feels a tingle in his mind, and then a soothing wash of healing energy.   Having cast her spell, Morningstar leaps through the Way and casts _find the path_ as soon as she’s on the other side.   She immediately senses the direction of a second Way, more or less straight “down” the elevator-shaft-shaped Slice.

With waves of unease now washing over the Company in sickening pulses, and the sound of Cleaners drowning out almost all else, Aravis instructs Pewter to take his body through the Way should anything happen.  Then he drops into the Crosser’s Maze.


* *

It takes more effort than he remembers, but that's not surprising -- Aravis is out of practice.   With fierce concentration he finds himself perched in the high metaphorical window of the Maze.  Behind him is the “inner world,” where Solomea Pirenne once dwelt and where King Vhadish XXIII dwells still, but that is not his concern.  In front of him should be the Maze’s map of the Cosmos, but he hasn’t yet mustered the mental strength to see it as he usually does.  He can only sense abstractions of abstractions.  The universe, he can tell, is very small, and getting smaller.  Makes perfect sense.  He thinks he should be able to see the other Slices, but at the moment he can only sense the one he’s in.  Desperately, he thinks..._thinks..._

“I hope he thinks of something,” says Flicker, looking at Aravis’s body.  It’s floating lazily in place, with Pewter perched on his shoulder.   The tentacles, far away but terribly loud, are eating their way inexorably through the Slice. The Company guesses they have about fifteen or twenty minutes before the wave of Cleaners reaches them.

Aravis concentrates, and his facility with the Maze starts to return in earnest.  Now he can see a vague map of the Slices, or at least the ones nearest to the one he himself is in.  He can see the nearby Plane of Air, and a bright dot that indicates the Way he’s standing next to.   Overall, there’s – well, it’s not exactly a pattern, but a consistency to how the Slices are arrayed.  There is always distance between them, even between two that are connected by Ways.  

But here, in the Chaos, it’s different.  All of the Slices of Limbo have been “pushed together” somehow; even Slices that aren’t connected by portals are practically adjacent to one another, like stories of a single building that have no stairways between them.  It must have taken something, or someone, of immense power to change the structure of the Slices like that.  Even where his body is right now, isn’t that far from the nearest border to another Slice of Chaos, where the two Slices are pushed right up against one another...

That’s it.   He can tear open a new portal into an adjoining Slice of Limbo!  And, he thinks grimly, if he can close it right away, it might not even attract more Cleaners.   Mustering every ounce of concentration he has, he sets to work.  Immediately he understands that some life energy will be required, so he reaches out to the Vree.  Having been warned, and possessing the mental discipline one expects of monks, every one of the Vree gives up life force willingly.  Aravis thinks with satisfaction that, as a result, no single Vree will be severely taxed.  He starts to peel away the planar fabric between the Slices, and finds it simple.  It’s almost as if the two Slices of Limbo _want_ to be joined.   

Almost as an afterthought, he wonders how much time he has left.


* *

“Remember when I said I’d be bored back in Tal Hae?” says Dranko, sweating.  “I take it back.  I take it all back.”

The feeling of pure _wrongness_ is now like a strong wind buffeting their psyches.  Hundreds of tentacles slash through reality, erasing as they sweep.  They have... five minutes?  Maybe ten?  It’s clear that they can’t wait any longer for Aravis to...

Rrrrrrrrrriiiiipppp!  A hole tears open in space right next to Ernie, and he jumps back in terror, expecting a tentacle to come out.  Instead he sees just a large hole, and on the other side isn’t mind-wrecking nothingness, but rather a roiling mass of Chaos – mostly fire and boulders at the moment.  He shouts, and the others turn to look.  Kibi understands immediately.

“Go through!  Go through the hole!” he shouts at the Vree.  Not needing to be told twice, they start leaping through as fast as they possibly can.  It’s going to be close – the Vree can only go through at about one arachnid per second, and there are more than 300 of them.  

“I’m sorry about all this,” says Kibi to Pruz Flit, as behind them a Vree leap through Aravis’s portal in a constant stream.

“No, no, it is myyyyyyyy fault,” says Pruz Flit.  “I did not aaaaaaanticipate your... your... well, I did not accounnnnnnnnnnnnnt for that.   But next time I willlllllllllllll – I will build a better Machinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnne!  The Chaos will have learrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrned from its mistakes.”

“I guess you can send me another note when you’re ready,” says Kibi.  “The Chaos will know where I am.  And you’ll be okay in there?”

“It izzzzz the Chaosssss, which izzz our home,” says Pruz Flit.  “We will build a newwwwwwww monasteryyyyyyyyyyy.”

The party has a quick discussion about whether to follow the Vree through Aravis’s portal, but decide to take their chances with the Plane of Air.  Besides, they figure Aravis might have to stay on this side to seal the portal closed, and it’s not worth the risk.   

Dranko suddenly gets an idea in his head.  He quickly fishes out a pen and some parchment and writes “Dranko was here” on a small scrap.  Then he stuffs the paper scrap into an empty potion bottle, plugs in the stopper, and flings it at the onrushing Cleaners.   The odds that it will avoid the tentacles seem to be miniscule, but somehow the bottle avoids them and disappears into the void beyond.  Ernie looks at him like he’s mad.

At last only Gaz Mur, Tiz Mot and Pruz Flit remain.

“We are sorry, Kibilhathur Bimmmmmmmmson,” says Gaz Mur.  “This izzzz not what weeeeee expected to happennnnnnnn.”

“Be safe!” says Ernie, as the final three Vree jump through.   In the Maze, Aravis sees the last of the tiny points of light that are the Vree depart, and immediately starts patching up the hole.   Snokas, Step and Morningstar are already in the Plane of Air.  Ernie jumps through to tell them what’s happening, leaving Dranko, Flicker, Kibi and Grey Wolf to guard Aravis’s body.  They all feel the pull at their life energy, and give it.  The Cleaners have now destroyed everything in sight save a patch of Chaos about eighty yards on a side.  Seventy yards.  Sixty.

Ernie arrives in the Plane of Air and excitedly announces “No more Vree!”

“They’re all dead?” asks Morningstar, aghast.

“No!  Aravis managed to open up a new portal to another Slice of Chaos and the Vree all escaped into it.  It’s just us now.  And we’ve decided we won’t stick around for whatsisname to make another maaaaaaa-chinnnnnnnne.”

For Aravis, fixing up the hole is child’s play compared to rebuilding the spatial fabric between Volpos and Abernia.  Only as he finishes up does he become aware that Pewter has been digging in his claws for several seconds.

“Boss!  Time to go!”

With a good fifteen or twenty seconds to spare, Aravis comes out of the Maze and looks around.  

Whoa.

He immediately adjusts his gravity and falls into the Way.  Dranko, Grey Wolf and Flicker follow right on his heels.  Only Kibi is left now, staring slack-jawed at an advancing world of tentacles and horror.  The nearest Cleaner can practically touch him...

Kibi leaps into the Way.  A moment later he has joined the others in the Elemental Plane of Air.  For five anxious seconds they all look back at the blue portal hanging in the air.

In an eyeblink, it goes gray.

...to be continued....


----------



## Fade

Now, did the cleaners come because of the action of the Machine, or did they come because the Machine would have been successful and someone sent the Cleaners to stop it?


----------



## dravot

Fantastic!  

It's the Langoliers!


----------



## Plane Sailing

Fantastic update.



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> The Vree are a friendly folk,




Pretty much doomed them then, eh?


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

It sounds like whatever the "Cleaners" are, they were talking to the Vree, to get them to make a way into the slice.  If that is the case, it makes me wonder about the true goals of those creatures.

GW


----------



## Thornir Alekeg

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> Fantastic update.
> 
> 
> 
> Pretty much doomed them then, eh?




Actually I thought that friendly folk ended up being evil - or was that just people you liked?


----------



## Piratecat

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> It sounds like whatever the "Cleaners" are, they were talking to the Vree, to get them to make a way into the slice.  If that is the case, it makes me wonder about the true goals of those creatures.




We don't think so. We didn't realize that the very existence of the slices are based on wild magic, and we didn't consider the fact that Scree has two Eyes of Moirel in him. . . and Eyes of Moirel are vast sources of wild magic. As far as we can tell, it was like taking a AA battery pocket flashlight and hooking it up to a 220 volt power line. The machine was calibrated for Kibi, not Kibi and two freakin' artifacts, and the surge in power through the Way drew the cleaners like moths to a flame.

You should have seen Sagiro's face and he realized the consequences of what Kibi was doing. It's fair to say that this wasn't how he expected the run to go!

Those things were _creepy._  We were all pretty horrified when we realized that we'd just doomed all the Vree. We were astonished when Aravis figured a way out of the problem by thinking laterally.  If we had taken the Vree into the plane of air, it's not much of a spoiler to say that they'd probably all have died.

Somewhere in the far realms is a bottle floating around with Dranko's name in it. Nothing is cooler than interplanar graffiti.


----------



## Fajitas

Sagiro said:
			
		

> In seconds the Familiar is glowing a bright, vibrant red, and seconds after that there are two bright flashes of light from inside Scree’s body – one green, and one purple.  The red energy playing along the Machine’s latticework starts to mix with green and purple light.



So, are we then to assume that the Eye of Moriel in Het Branoi is the red one?  Or is this just a chromatic coincidence?  Is it possible that the voice of the Chaos was actually the voice of the Eye of Moriel?


----------



## Plane Sailing

Fajitas said:
			
		

> So, are we then to assume that the Eye of Moriel in Het Branoi is the red one?  Or is this just a chromatic coincidence?  Is it possible that the voice of the Chaos was actually the voice of the Eye of Moriel?




Ooo, nice thinking


----------



## LightPhoenix

Ohhhhhhhhhh, and along those same lines, don't they need three stones to travel nowhere, or something like that?  I wonder if the three stones tried to open the portal, hence the attraction to the Way.  But it doesn't quite work in Het Branoi, since it's all planarly mucked up.


----------



## el-remmen

Excuse me, Mr. Sagiro, sir?

Might you please give us another update soon?  We certainly would be most grateful . . .


----------



## Piratecat

Fajitas said:
			
		

> So, are we then to assume that the Eye of Moriel in Het Branoi is the red one?  Or is this just a chromatic coincidence?  Is it possible that the voice of the Chaos was actually the voice of the Eye of Moriel?




When we first saw the door into Het Brannoi back on pages 20 and 21, it was first glowing with a strong red light. The next morning when we actually entered, the doorway's light had turned to blue. 

Chromatic coincidence, by butt. It's Sagiro; all this stuff ties together, _but you can't figure out how until it's too late._

 - PCat


----------



## Hammerhead

Actually, IIRC, the doorway was green. I believe that Dranko said "Green means go." It could be that the colors of the doorway lead into where the PCs would have ended up, since when they walked into the green doorway they ended up in a nice pastoral land with trees.


----------



## Piratecat

Whoops, you're right. I've got no idea what's up with _that._


----------



## Sagiro

Hammerhead is correct.  I am flattered by (and, let's face it, encourage) Piratecat's belief that every detail of my game is a lovingly handcrafted puzzle-piece that fits seamlessly into an incredibly complex puzzle.  But while I do my share of foreshadowing and long-term planning, I'm also like a runaway puzzle-piece factory that continuously churns out pieces, some of which can be later made to _appear_ to fit together as if by pre-planned design.  

In this case, the changing colors of the door into Het Branoi had nothing to do with any specific Eye of Moirel, and instead, as Hammerhead notes, reflected the strongest colors of the Slice on the other side.  (Peek behind the curtain:  had they gone in when it was red, they would have found themselves in a Mars-like Slice, albeit with more oxygen.  Had they gone in while it was blue, they would have landed on a tiny deserted island in the middle of an ocean.)  In hindsight, reading the speculation on this thread, I missed a cool foreshadowing opportunity there.

At this point in the story, the Company has been assuming that the Eye in Het Branoi was blue, since that's the color of all the Ways once you get inside. 

-Sagiro


----------



## Fajitas

Sagiro said:
			
		

> At this point in the story, the Company has been assuming that the Eye in Het Branoi was blue, since that's the color of all the Ways once you get inside.



Well, in the absence of further, as yet unrevealed information to the contrary, I'll stand by my analysis.  After all, there may be many examples of colored things in Het Branoi, but so far only one of them has exploded out of control when combined with two Eyes of Moriel...


----------



## Sagiro

Hey there.

I'm sorry to report that there is no new Story Hour update, and I can't make any promises about the next one -- you see, it seems that the human population of my household has just increased by 50%!

Elanor Joyce Hart was born at 1:30 A.M. on Tuesday, February 15.  She weighed in at birth at 7 lbs 6 oz., was 19" long, and in her father's humble and unbiased estimation, is the cutest creature on the planet.  You can see three early pictures of her at:

http://home.comcast.net/~dorian.hart/elanor/elanor1.html

In the long term, I don't plan to cease either my campaign or the telling of it, but in the short term, I'm going to stare at my (gulp) daughter while she sleeps.  Awwwwww.....

The following smileys, in no particular order, apply:

   

-Sagiro


----------



## coyote6

Congratulations!


----------



## Micah

Congratulations!!!

Well your life just changed in a way almost as drastic as the eyes of Moriel going nowhere - only much much more pleasant of a change.

She's beautiful!

Love the name.


----------



## Piratecat

Dor, the first photo isn't loading for me.  And she's _lovely._

 - Kev


----------



## Sagiro

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Dor, the first photo isn't loading for me.
> - Kev




Oops... try it now.


----------



## Piratecat

It's oddly appropriate that I first see your daughter in this story hour.  

My heart sings for you two.


----------



## Sagiro

Piratecat said:
			
		

> It's oddly appropriate that I first see your daughter in this story hour.
> 
> My heart sings for you two.




It would be MORE appropriate if you had seen her in YOUR story hour... since Kate, in the midst of a four-hour feed-a-thon at 2:00 in the morning, called her "The Dark Hunger."  I just about bust a gut.    

-Sagiro


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

good news for you.  Congratulations.

GW


----------



## Ashy

Congrats to all three of you, Sagiro!  A lovely lil' lass you have there.


----------



## Capellan

Congratulations, Dorian and Kate.

May she grow as wise as Velendo, as beautiful as Mara, and as strong as Groat the Easily Provoked.


----------



## el-remmen

Mazel Tov!!!!


----------



## Jackylhunter

Happy Day Sagiro,

Congratulations!!

-Jackylhunter


----------



## Dawn

Congratulations to the both of you!  It is joyous time full of “firsts” and little sleep.  All worth it!


----------



## KidCthulhu

I had my chance to go visit baby Elanor, and to bring Kodiak some well deserved sushi.  Instead I got pukin' sick with the flu, and couldn't go.    

My heart sings too. I'm looking forward to watching her grow!  (I still think Nolin is a nice name for a girl.)


----------



## MTR

Congratulations!  You'll soon understand your parents.    

One piece of advice: whatever blanket/stuffed animal/etc you get as a comfort item, get two.  Or even three.


----------



## Miln

MTR said:
			
		

> One piece of advice: whatever blanket/stuffed animal/etc you get as a comfort item, get two.  Or even three.




I can't second this strongly enough.


----------



## Thornir Alekeg

Congratulations, she is adorable!

Nothing is more overwhelming and at the same time more wonderful than becoming the father of someone so precious.  Life will literally never be the same for you again.


----------



## LightPhoenix

Woot!!!

Congrats to Sagiro and Kodiak!


----------



## spyscribe

Congratulations!


----------



## Orichalcum

*Congratulations!*

At some point recently Ladybird and I concluded that Elanor was the only really workable and good Tolkienish name out there - because it is a. pretty, b. allows the poor child to blend in 1st grade easily, c. is actually spellable. 

May she be Elanor the Fair - and the Book-Reader - all her long and glorious days...


----------



## Micah

MTR said:
			
		

> One piece of advice: whatever blanket/stuffed animal/etc you get as a comfort item, get two.  Or even three.




Yup, but the key is to wash all the copies every time and rotate them in so they all look the same. Kids get too smart. They don't want the newer version of stuffed toby. They want the toby that has stains, is falling apart at the seams and looks like something you wouldn't donate to goodwill.


----------



## KidCthulhu

MTR said:
			
		

> One piece of advice: whatever blanket/stuffed animal/etc you get as a comfort item, get two.  Or even three.




The problem with this plan is that it presumes that you can guess what toy or blanket the kids going to fixate on.  Sometimes they pick the most random thing.  And by the time you know what the security thing is, damned if you can remember where you got it, or the store doesn't have them any more...


----------



## Miln

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> The problem with this plan is that it presumes that you can guess what toy or blanket the kids going to fixate on.  Sometimes they pick the most random thing.  And by the time you know what the security thing is, damned if you can remember where you got it, or the store doesn't have them any more...




True enough. The obvious answer is to buy three of everything, just in case!

Barring that, you'll just have to lament your child's fixation. But, never fear, in a few years you can post on some message board somewhere and try to warn some other new parent. It's a wonderful cycle.


----------



## Ashy

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> The problem with this plan is that it presumes that you can guess what toy or blanket the kids going to fixate on.  Sometimes they pick the most random thing.  And by the time you know what the security thing is, damned if you can remember where you got it, or the store doesn't have them any more...




Believe this woman!  She speakth the truth!

And I should know, 'cause I've got 5 of the lil' biters!


----------



## The Axe

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> The problem with this plan is that it presumes that you can guess what toy or blanket the kids going to fixate on.  Sometimes they pick the most random thing.  And by the time you know what the security thing is, damned if you can remember where you got it, or the store doesn't have them any more...




Heh; we got lucky.  We were using cloth diapers for burp rags, and that's what my son's security item is---easily replaceable.


----------



## Wolfspirit

Huzzah!  My hat is off to you at increasing the number of female gamers in the world.  (comeon, tell me that when you sing "Hush Little Baby" you're going to include a verse about "Momma's gonna buy you a 20-side die" )


----------



## Thornir Alekeg

The Axe said:
			
		

> Heh; we got lucky.  We were using cloth diapers for burp rags, and that's what my son's security item is---easily replaceable.




My youngest has done the exact same thing - oh, and his Dory (from Finding Nemo), but he's pretty good about accepting a substitute for a night or so.  My 5 year old daughter never really had any one thing.  Of course now there is barely room for her in her bed with all the "buddies."


----------



## Rel

Sagiro, it's been too long since I was a regular reader and poster in your Story Hour.  But I wanted to pop in and say congratulations on the birth of your child.  It's one of life's most wonderful, amazing, world-changing moments and I hope you enjoy every second of it.

Though I do feel obligated to mention that I can track the loss of extra time in which to read great story hours like yours almost directly to the moment my daughter was born...

Good luck and much happiness to you and your family!


----------



## Plane Sailing

Elanor looks wonderful, and you both look so proud. Congratulations to the both of you, and if there is one word of comfort I can offer at this time - sleep does actually return again, one day!

(My youngest, Katarina, was within a hairs-breadth of being named Elanor, but I think my wife spotted the LotR reference just before I went off to register her name...)

God bless!


----------



## Pyske

Congrats, Sagiro, and may the next few monts be full of joy and the occasional bit of sleep.


----------



## MTR

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> The problem with this plan is that it presumes that you can guess what toy or blanket the kids going to fixate on.  Sometimes they pick the most random thing.  And by the time you know what the security thing is, damned if you can remember where you got it, or the store doesn't have them any more...




We never had that problem (three kids).  We just made sure we had one fuzzy thing in the crib and that's what they picked.  But yea, if you do lose both of the items (and we have) of course it's out of stock.  My wife ended up crusing EBay with my daughter looking at pictures to find a close enough match to her blanket.


----------



## Plane Sailing

So far neither of my girls have fixated on one toy to the exclusion of all others. Felicity rotates her affections and Katarina ignores everything


----------



## pogre

Congratulations! The first six months with your first child are rough, but it does get better - much better.


----------



## Shmoo

Congrats!!


----------



## Sagiro

Thank you everyone for your good thoughts!  Kodiak and little Elanor are doing very well, and the sleep depravtation is starting to feel normal.  The wee beastie just turned 17 days old.   

You can see more pictures of her here:  

http://home.comcast.net/~dorian.hart/elanor_week_1/elanor_week_1_main.html

For the last couple of nights, wife and daughter have been sleeping, at the same time, for as much as three hours in a row.  This has afforded me some precious story-hour-writing time, so here's the next installment.  Enjoy, and again, thanks so much for all the congratulations.  And if you're really feeling nice, you can come over and change a diaper or two any time you want!    


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 226*_
*Lightning*


“I never thought I’d be so happy to be in the Elemental Plane of Air,” says Kibi.   The dwarf, together with the rest of the Company, reclines against the edge of the world and looks up at the now-gray Way.

“That was close,” says Aravis, still panting.  His head throbs with the after-ache of heavy Maze use.

“Whaddya mean, close?” asks Dranko.  “We had a good twenty seconds to spare!”

“In the future,” says Ernie, “I vote we don’t plug Kibi into any strange machines.”

“At the very least we should have a rule about not destroying Slices,” says Morningstar.

“We knew there was a rule about blocking off Ways,” says Aravis.  “Now we know the same things applies to pouring energy into them.  An overload is as bad as a blockage.”

“I’m glad the Vree got away,” says Kibi.  “I liked them.”

The air is clean and fresh – almost too fresh, really.  It feels in their throats and lungs as if the air is extremely cold, though in fact it’s barely cool.  

“It’s just more airy than normal air,” observes Ernie.  Flicker and Dranko light up Blacktallow cigars, and the smoke hovers in clouds around their heads, dispersing slowly.  Ernie wrinkles his nose.

“Do we have a plan?” he asks.

“The Lord of the Roses, I guess,” says Kibi, though it’s anyone’s guess how they’ll find him now.

Since the clock is ticking on Morningstar’s _find the path_, the group adjusts their gravity and plummets “downward” through the air.   They soon reach terminal velocity, but not long after that they see something white coming up fast.  A quick reversal of gravities slows them up before they reach it, and they are relieved to see it’s only a puffy cloud.  Even though it doesn’t rumble or threaten them, most of the party chooses to go around it.  Only Dranko goes through, and he ends up soaked but unharmed.  Sometimes a cloud is just a cloud.

A few minutes later they slow down again, as they approach a small flock of strange birds.  One of the things, the size of a large hawk, comes whizzing up toward and then past them.  It’s not natural, with four wings evenly spaced around its body.  Its beak is similarly divided into quadrants.  The rest of the flock follows it, buzzing the Company but then fading into specks again as they fly away.

After almost two more hours of falling, they see a patch far below that’s a darker blue than the ambient color of the Slice.  Sure enough it’s a glowing blue Way, facing relatively upwards; they could fall through it like a trap door if they so chose, but instead they slow down and come to a halt by falling into the nearest planar edge.
Feeling confident, Dranko ties a rope around his waist, hands it to the others, and jumps into the Way for a quick scout.  

When he emerges, his first thought is that he has arrived in an _ironstorm – chain lightning_ field.  An electrical storm rages all about him, and though he tries to twist and dodge the bolts, there are just too many.   Even before the others have reached their count of five Abernathies,  Dranko comes popping out of the Way, screaming and smoking.  The rope is nearly burned through.

“It’s the elemental place of electricity, or something,” he reports as Morningstar casts a healing spell.   His fiancée then casts another _find the path_, figuring there must be a better exit than this one – and finds that there is none.  With the Way back to the Vree destroyed by Cleaners, the only way out of here is through the electrical storm.

“Oh, crap,” says Aravis.  The others express similar sentiments.

For a few minutes they discuss various elemental protection spells.  _Energy immunity_ is the best bet, but they don’t have enough for everyone.  _Energy buffer_ only goes off once.  _Protection from elements_ would be used up in less than a minute.  They wonder if they could stuff someone into their _bag of holding_, or have Kibi and Aravis _polymorph_ into something immune to electricity.

Thinking that maybe the lightning storm was just a localized and passing phenomenon, Morningstar leaps in to make sure all this discussion isn’t a waste of time.   A few seconds later she too pops back out with clothes and skin blackened.  Now she and Dranko are a matched pair of smoldering adventurers.

“How cute,” says Grey Wolf dryly.

“Not a good look for the wedding, though,” says Flicker.

“It’s a good thing Aravis’s Maze manipulations worked out,” says Morningstar as she now applies the healing to herself.  “Otherwise this would have been the last march of the Vree.”

As they seem in no danger here in the plane of air, they decide to wait until the next day, when Morningstar can pray for the _energy buffers_ she needs, and the wizards can be properly loaded with _teleports_.  For the rest of the day they fly around, polish their armor, munch on travel rations and play cards.  Weird native birds fly by unconcerned, and puffy white clouds drift up and down the long, narrow Slice.

* *

Dranko wakes the next “morning,” sobbing and sweating.  His head is pounding with ache.  He doesn’t remember the details of the nightmare, just that he had one, and that it involved tentacles.  He groans and mops his brow.  The others are up before him, and staring.

“Did anyone else have bad dreams?” he asks, gulping for air and reaching for his water skin.

“I didn’t sleep very well,” says Kibi, motioning vaguely to the complete lack of ground anywhere.  “But no, no nightmares.”

“I slept like a baby,” says Aravis, stretching.

Everyone else shakes their heads, and Dranko frowns.

“Well, yesterday _was_ a horrible, horrible day,” says Kibi.

“I wonder if it’s because of the bottle I threw,” says Dranko to himself.  Aravis overhears.

“What bottle?” he asks, startled.  

“I, uh, I threw a message in a bottle into where the Cleaners were,” admits Dranko.

“Oh, Gods,” moans Aravis.  “What was the message?”

“Um.  ‘Dranko was here.’”

Aravis just buries his face in his hands.

“It’s like what you do on a ship in the ocean,” says Dranko defensively.  “There was a big ocean out there, figuratively speaking, and I had an extra empty bottle...”

“What I do on the ocean is throw up a lot,” says Ernie.

“Don’t do that in the Black Circle’s ocean!” says Aravis to Dranko. 

“I guess not,” Dranko concedes.  “It felt like someone was stomping through my dreams with spiked boots.”

Morningstar prays and puts her hands on her fiancée’s head, trying to get a sense of what his dreams had been about.  She senses nothing specific, but it’s very, very disturbing.

“Do I have any magic lingering on me?” asks Dranko to the wizards.  He strips himself of all his magic items, and Aravis casts _detect magic_.  Yes, he has some magic on him, but its type is very strange.

With nothing else to do about it, Dranko and the other spellcasters start to prepare their arsenals for the day.  But when Dranko tries to pray, he feels something disturbing in his head.  It almost feels like a tentacle is writhing behind his eyes.  To his horror he realizes that he can’t achieve the serenity he needs to regain any spells.

“Maybe I’m cursed?”  he asks the others.  Aravis tries casting a _greater dispelling_ on him, but it does not remove the strange magic the half-orc is radiating.  Kibi, though, looking again with _detect magic_, notices now that the magic is stronger in a thick stripe extending diagonally from Dranko’s upper chest, down to his left knee.

It’s exactly where the Cleaner struck him.

"_Restoration_ might work,” suggests Aravis.

Grey Wolf uses the undead-bane sword to cast the spell on Dranko; it clears Dranko’s head, but the magic is still there.  Ernie examines Dranko’s body and determines that it’s not a physical ailment, while Grey Wolf speculates that they’ll have to _restore_ him every day.  Maybe _greater restoration_ would work?  At least now, albeit with difficulty, Dranko is able to reach the calm necessary to renew his spells.

An hour later, heads full of prayers and dweomercraft, the Company is ready to execute their plan.  Kibi, Ernie, Morningstar and Aravis all get _energy immunity: lightning_ from Morningstar, along with some _endurances_, just in case.  They leap through the Way, and are soon floating in the violent electrical storm.  It’s just like Morningstar remembers it from the day before, though with less burning pain.  Instead it feels like she’s being softly punched from all directions.  She casts _find the path_ to the nearest exit.

“This is cool!” exclaims Aravis, looking around and grinning.  

“That way,” says Morningstar.  She points in a random-seeming direction, since there are no landmarks of any kind, and no visual clues to offer any sense of perspective at all.  With the Ellish priestess in the lead, they change their gravities and plummet through the storm.

They can’t see very far in front of them, and the ambient blue-white light here isn’t very distinct from the glowing blue of the Ways.  So it is that after a mere 30 seconds, the Way out comes upon them in a flash!  Morningstar spots it soonest and is just able to alter her gravitational direction, and so avoids falling in, but her warning to the others is lost in the crackling din.  Ernie, Kibi and Aravis go shooting right into the Way, and the sucking blackness between the Slices.  

In hindsight, it’s a darn good thing that one’s momentum is cancelled out on a trip through the Ways.  The three of them pop out of a horizontal-facing Way hovering twenty feet in the air and fall unceremoniously onto hard-packed dirt.  Aravis ends up on his back looking up, feeling bruises forming and hearing the empathic complaints of the somewhat squashed Pewter.  Twenty feet above him is the Way, like a stage trap-door through which he’s just tripped.

They spend a few seconds looking around and getting their bearings.  Around them is a partly-ruined oval coliseum; they lie at one end.  There are tall, cracked stone pillars standing in rows near the center.  Rising up around them are rings of carved stone steps, which could have seated thousands of spectators on a good day.  Above them a huge sun, over twenty times larger than their sun back on Charagan, hangs yellow in a gray sky.  Nevertheless, the air around them is cool.

Just as the three adventurers get to their feet, they hear a sound from the other end of the coliseum floor.  A couple hundred feet away something is moving, a large reptilian creature, over fifteen feet long, with a dark, translucent blue body.  It starts to unwrap itself from one of the pillars with a scaly, rasping sound.

Ernie activates the _flying_ ability of his shield, grabs Kibi, and hauls the dwarf straight up.  They touch the plane of the Way and are sucked back into the plane of lightning.  Morningstar has “flown” back around in the lightning plane and is just about to go in after her friends, when Ernie and Kibi come popping out of it.

Aravis casts _gaseous form_ on himself and flies slowly upward himself, only remembering when he gets to the Way that creatures made all of vapor (_wind walkers_, specifically) cannot travel through the portals.  It turns out he can’t either.  

The blue lizard makes some sniffing noises in his direction, and then starts moving towards him, gracefully, purposefully, and (thank goodness) slowly.  There’s a strange clanking sound behind it as it moves, but Aravis doesn’t spend any time wondering about that.  He flies back to the ground, dismisses his _gaseous form_, and casts _rope trick_ such that the opening is right next to the Way out.  As he starts to climb the lizard gains speed, now charging in his direction, though still more slowly than it looks like it should.

Aravis makes it half-way up the rope, slips, and falls back down to the ground with a thud.  Fearfully he cranes his neck to see the lizard, and notes with relief that he still has a few more seconds before it reaches him.  His mood changes, though, as the air around him seems to drop a hundred degrees for a second, chilling him to the core.  

What’s more upsetting is that something also _dispels_ his _rope trick_.  

Enough is enough.  Aravis decides to stand, fight, and spare no expense.  He targets the lizard with _power word: stun_.  Alas, this spell turns out instead to be “_power word: discover the enemy has more than 150 hit points_.”  The lizard is unimpressed. 

“Oh, CRAP!” exclaims Aravis.

Back in the plane of lightning, it’s become clear to Morningstar, Ernie and Kibi that Aravis has either not picked up on the “we’re fleeing now” plan, or something has happened to him that will require a rescue.  Kibi _teleports_ back to the Way to the plane of air and falls through it, while Ernie grabs hold of Morningstar (so she doesn’t fall twenty feet on arrival) and the two of them plunge into the Way close at hand.

The blue lizard (once called a Lumbrese by the cheering fans who watched it freeze and devour criminals) lumbers toward Aravis.  The clanking sound is coming from a pair of thick chains attached to an iron collar around its neck, which once tethered it to one of the pillars.  They trail behind it in the dirt, slowing it down.  Still a round away, the lizard freezes the air around Aravis a second time, and with a flash of its icy eyes it _dispels_ his _endurance_.   Aravis targets it with a _disintegrate_ spell but the lizard shrugs it off, taking only minimal damage.  The monster finally reaches Aravis, freezes him a third time, rips into him with its two front claws, and for good measure chomps down with a mouth full of icicle-like teeth.  The wizard finds himself stuck in the creature’s jaws, feeling its icy breath all around him, burning his skin.

The back end of the lizard is engulfed in a pillar of holy Yondallan fire.  The front end is struck and blinded by an Ellish _darkbeam_.   Aravis can just see, through a haze of cold and freezing blood, the forms of his friends come to save him.

* *

Kibi emerges into the plane of air.  “Guys, quick, come through!  Aravis needs our help!  He’s probably getting eaten by a dragon!  Quick!  I can _teleport_ all of you but one.  You’ll have to survive in the lightning for just a second, but we’ve got to hurry!”

Flicker volunteers to stay behind, and the rest follow Kibi back into the lightning storm.  

* *

Aravis, finding himself pinned and having no desire to spend a second more as a chew-toy, _teleports_ out of the ice lizard’s jaws, landing next to Morningstar.

“I think it’s blind,” says Morningstar approvingly, noting its lack of focus.

The lizard fires off a point-blank _greater dispel_, not realizing that its blindness isn’t caused by magic, but by honest-to-goodness burned-out eyeballs.   (It does at least manage to dispel Ernie’s _fly_ and the remainder of Morningstar’s _darkbeam._)   It thrashes around, starts to head off in a wrong direction, and bumps its head into a pillar before picking up the enemy’s scent and pegging all three with another freezing attack.  Ernie notes that when it does so, its wounds seem to heal.  

The halfling steps to the side and hacks twice with Beryn Sur, but the lizard’s hard icy hide deflects both sword strokes.  Morningstar gives Aravis some much-needed healing.

The rest of the party falls out of the Way.  Grey Wolf tumbles gracefully and Dranko _feather falls_, leaving Snokas, Step and Kibi to fall in a clumsy heap.  Thump.  Thump thump.  Ouch!

Aravis looks over at Grey Wolf.

“Grey Wolf, I’d like to request an _ironstorm_ around that creature’s back end.”

“I can do that,” answers Grey Wolf.

“We think cold damage will just heal it,” warns Ernie.

“And we think it’s blind,” says Morningstar.

“And we think it’s got pretty thick skin,” says Snokas, as both of his picks fail to penetrate its scales.

Dranko lashes with his whip, but also fails to damage the creature.  Step has better luck, stepping forward and slashing between rows of scales with his bastard sword.  Blood fountains out, and the lizard hisses and splutters.  Its blind frustration is evident as it whips its head back and forth.

Grey Wolf lays down the _iron storm_, and Aravis delivers the pain.  His _chain lightning_ is sucked into the sphere of iron filings, creating a crackling ball of deadly electricity that essentially causes the lizard to explode into icy chunks.  Dranko winces in sympathy, knowing how that feels.  Grey Wolf ducks as a  piece of chain whistles past his head.

Dranko looks down at the mutilated head and neck of the Lumbrese.

“I’m so glad I hurried here so I could save the day,” he mutters.

...to be continued...


----------



## Ruined

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Enough is enough.  Aravis decides to stand, fight, and spare no expense.  He targets the lizard with _power word: stun_.  Alas, this spell turns out instead to be “_power word: discover the enemy has more than 150 hit points_.”  The lizard is unimpressed.




Heh heh, that's great. Good update, Sagiro, and congratulations on the little one!


----------



## el-remmen

More please, thank you. . . .


----------



## Quartermoon

Elanor is a beautiful name, and Elanor is a beautiful little girl. Congratulations to you both! And I would happily change diapers for you.  

Mine are 8 and 11 now, and I can honestly say they are the best thing about my life, and worth all the diapers and sleepless nights in the world.

Welcome to the real adventure!


----------



## Len

Thanks for taking the time to post an update. It's clear that Elanor will never lack for bedtime stories. 


			
				Quartermoon said:
			
		

> And I would happily change diapers for you.



I on the other hand would rather face a pack of dretches. No offense.


----------



## Thornir Alekeg

Glad to hear you are adjusting.  Enjoy it while you can, as soon as you get used to it she will probably change her sleep pattern.  

So, can we set up a diaper change exchange for updates like Piratecat's art updates?  I'd gladly change a diaper or two for an update.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> And if you're really feeling nice, you can come over and change a diaper or two any time you want!




I already did one!  Do I get an update?


----------



## Nyarlathotep

Bump!

A story-hour this great deserves to be on page 1.


----------



## Urbanmech

Bump must return this to page one for others who may have missed its return!


----------



## el-remmen

If we can't get an update of the story can we at least get an update about the baby?

Please?


----------



## KidCthulhu

Baby is adorable.  She and Aravis' infant son sat in on the game this last Saturday, and were very good.  They got to watch us make Sagiro make _that face_.  You know the one.  The one where the party announces their plan, the DM checks his notes, makes a face and throws half the pages out the window.  It was a triumph!


----------



## Len

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> She and Aravis' infant son sat in on the game this last Saturday, and were very good.



You mean, they got the AoO rules right and everything?


----------



## Sagiro

Thanks for the various bumps and such; I haven't abandoned the story, I promise!  In fact, I'm close to posting another update, though I won't make any specific promises as to when.  I know better.  

Little Elanor is doing very well... just about 9 weeks old now, and still cute as anything.   She loves looking and making baby noises at the stuffed monkey (representing Grey Wolf's familiar Edghar) that hangs from our kitchen chandelier.

One reason I haven't posted an update in a while is that I've been writing up a long-overdue photo-website-thingy from our honeymoon in New Zealand 17 months ago.   If you want to look at pictures of an amazing country while waiting for the next update, or want to see pictures of the baby, you can follow the links from my home page, here.

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 227*_
*Ignis Ex Machina*

Kibi _teleports_ a couple more times to retrieve Flicker and get him past the lightning plane.  Dranko pries a fang out of the ice-dragon's mouth.

“How did it end up in so many pieces?” asks Flicker.

“Ironstorm Chain Lightning” say many voices.

The party starts to explore the coliseum, noting that the temperature is warming up without the lizard around.  Behind one of the pillars Ernie finds the remains of something like a smashed machine.  It’s vaguely reminiscent of the thing Aristus was working on.  It’s a lump of gears and chains and tubes and wheels and spouts, jumbled together and smashed.

“Hey wizards,” he calls.  “What do you think this is?”

“Is it loot?” asks Dranko.

“It’s mechanical looking,” says Ernie.

“Dragons should have hordes,” says Dranko.

Some bits might almost have been meant as feet, to assist movement where its wheels wouldn’t work.  There’s no indication about its purpose.  There’s no blood, but there’s some black oily liquid on some nearby rocks.  Nothing about it is magic.

Further searching reveals the skeletal remains of several halfling-sized creatures.   Morningstar shoos the others away and casts _thought capture_, and (not surprisingly) picks up a fearful thought of someone about to be eaten.  A second such spell cast near the machinery reveals a thought of powerful hunger.

“I hate hungry machinery,” says Dranko.

“I think that’s the dragon’s thought,” points out Aravis.

“Yeah.  I knew that.”

“It’s still getting warmer,” notes Step, and it’s true.  With the cold lizard dead the temperature has risen steadily, while the enormous sun glares brightly in the sky.

“I think the dragon broke its chain a long time ago, and not just to fight us,” says Flicker, examining one of the tethers.  Meanwhile Dranko and Ernie examine the most intact of the skeletons and conclude it belonged to a winged humanoid, though there are no signs of wings. 

There’s not much more to scout.  The Slice turns out to encompass little more than the arena itself.  Fortunately there’s a second blue Way in the far entryway (in addition to a gray one high up in the seats), so it’s clear which way they’re headed next.  

“You know,” says Dranko to Aravis.  “I always imagined I’d be fighting in a coliseum someday against a terrible draconic beast.  But no, it had to be you, didn’t it.  You had to steal my glory.”

“I’m not sure I’d call that fighting,” says Morningstar, shaking her head at the holes in Aravis’s clothes.

“Sure it was,” says Dranko.  “Aravis, you were attacking from inside.  You got inside its defenses.”

“Inside its toothy maw, you mean,” says Flicker.  “But Dranko, if you want, one of our magic types can _summon_ a monster for you to fight.”

Step jokingly volunteers to be _polymorphed_ into a Dragon.  

“Here’s the problem with that,” explains Dranko.  “Years from now when I’m telling the story about the fight with the evil monster, people will ask, ‘So what kind of monster was it?’  And I’ll say, ‘a paladin.’  And they’ll say ‘oh, so YOU were the evil monster.’”

There are no magic items among the remains, and no reason to stay any longer.  They finish healing up from the fight and head for the glowing blue exit.  Dranko goes in first, rope tied around his waist and the rest counting out the standard five Abernathies.

There’s black sucking void, followed soon after by forest.  It’s darker than Green Valley, shaggy, old, and mossy.   The air is filled with the sounds of birds.   Dranko quickly looks around himself but sees only thick trees and vegetation.  The undulating ground is covered with leaves and mossy rocks.  And the...

Yoink.  Five Abernathies are up and the others pull him back.

“It’s a very attractive old forest full of carnivorous birds and evil druids,” Dranko tells them.

“You saw all that?”  asks Aravis skeptically.

“Well, I heard the birds.  And it was definitely an old forest.”

“Carnivorous?” asks Grey Wolf.

“Evil Druids?” asks Morningstar,

“Well... no.  But I thought there might be.”

A minute later the whole Company stands on the mossy carpet of the forest.  There’s no sign of intelligent life besides themselves, though admittedly they can’t see very far in any particular direction.  There are no signs, no trail, no tracks, just dense dark-green woods.

Dranko scampers up a tree with unexpected difficulty.  The tree-trunks are slick with moss and moisture, and the lower branches are few and weak.   While he struggles, Grey Wolf’s monkey familiar Edghar clambers up Dranko’s back and hops into the treetops.  When Dranko reaches the top a few minutes later and pokes his head above the canopy he sees no signs of man-made habitation.   It’s just leaves (and the occasional parakeet) as far as he can see in every direction.  Edghar sniffs the air and sadly notes the absence of other monkeys.

With no better plan Morningstar casts _find the path_ to the next Way and gets a direction.  At her request Step _detects evil_ before they leave.  It’s negative, though he allows his gaze to settle on Flicker for a couple of extra seconds, and then breaks into a chuckle when the halfling looks taken aback.

It’s mighty slow going.  The forest is littered with boulders, some only a few feet across, some a hundred feet or more in length or height.  There’s plenty of scrambling, stumbling and slipping on slick roots.  Kibi grows so weary that he casts _xorn movement_ to travel more easily through the ground, but finds that just as tedious since the roots block him there too.  Dranko, in a _telepathic bond_ with some of the others, scouts ahead.  (But not too far ahead – Morningstar needs to see him to make course corrections when necessary.)  Edghar parallels him high up in the trees.

For a couple of  hours it’s an uneventful slog, save for a brief encounter with a deer-like creature.  It’s alien-looking, with elongated eyes, six legs, and four sets of antlers.  It responds to Dranko’s questions by scampering off into the woods.

The monotony is broken when Edghar says to Grey Wolf:  “There’s something up here you’re going to miss, if you keep going in that direction.  It’s in the trees.”

Grey Wolf relays this to the others, and Dranko again slowly climbs upward, until he sees what Edghar was talking about. About 150 feet away, and 60 feet off the ground, is a small tree house.  At the base of that tree, Morningstar casts _detect thoughts_ and Grey Wolf _detect magic_, and neither turn up anything unusual.

“Hello?” calls up Morningstar.  There’s no response.  

Dranko and Flicker climb the tree.  There are no ropes, ladders, or any other visible means by which someone could reach the tree-house, but that doesn’t deter the pair of rogues.   They climb up the trunk until they find themselves right below the wide wooden platform that serves as the little building’s floor.   The radius of the platform is longer than Dranko’s arms, so he clings to a branch with one arm and wraps his whip around the closest branch on the next tree over.  Flicker goes hand-over-hand along the taut whip until he clears the platform, and then flips himself upward onto it, landing on the thin ledge between the platform edge and the near wall of the house.  

Before Dranko can loose the whip, Edghar climbs up the half-orc’s back and scampers across to the other tree.  Flicker edges around the ledge until he finds a doorway and slips in, reporting over the _telepathic bond_ that it’s abandoned.

“There’s furniture,” he calls to Dranko, “sized for a little person, about my size.  Lots of moss, and bird-poop everywhere.”

“According to Flicker,” Dranko relays, “this place was once inhabited by small anthropomorphic birds who sat on chairs.”

“How did they get up there?” asks Morningstar.  

“I’m telling you, they were bird-people,” says Dranko.  “I’m actually being serious.  And Flicker says there’s bird poop everywhere.”

“You may be sort of right,” admits Morningstar.  “Remember the skeletons we found in the coliseum, that had wings.  They were humanoid, but they flew.”

“There could be a whole race of the things around here,” says Dranko.

“Or maybe there was only that one left, and he got lonely, went out, and got eaten,” says Morningstar glumly.

There’s a second floor of the house, but Flicker doesn’t think the flimsy floor will hold his weight.  Edghar scampers up and looks around, reporting to Grey Wolf that he sees a bed.  He also finds a bird’s nest with small eggs in it.

“I wonder if they’re edible,” wonders the monkey.

“Don’t eat them,” advises Grey Wolf.   “They could be poison, or unnatural.  Remember that ‘deer’ we saw.”

“Whoever heard of a poisoned egg?” complains Edghar, licking his lips.

“We shouldn’t risk it,” thinks Grey Wolf.

“Wait,” says the monkey.  “I have an idea....”

Flicker’s voice comes from the lower floor of the house.  “What the...hey!  Aww, yuck!”

“Well, it’s not contact poison,” thinks Edghar to Grey Wolf.

“Edghar!  Get down here right now if you’re just going to be a pest.”

It’s clear that nothing has lived in the house for years.  Dranko mutters a small prayer for its former inhabitants, and back on the ground cleans off Flicker with the _decanter of endless water._  That sparks a strange discussion about where the water comes from in Het Branoi.  Could it be from the part of the Elemental Plane of Water they’ve already visited?   And now that they know fish live there, they wonder why fish never come flying out of the _decanter._

Edghar keeps exploring while the humanoids hold this vital discourse.  He finds another half-dozen tree-houses, all abandoned and rotting.  

“They must have fled ages ago,” says Dranko.

“Or died off,” adds Grey Wolf.

“But they wouldn’t have aged to death, right?” says Kibi.

“Why is that when we find abandoned houses, they’re not full of gold and jewels left behind by treasure-loving monsters?”  complains Dranko.

“I don’t have an answer for that,” says Grey Wolf.   “I’m sorry.”


*  *

They keep going, keeping their previous course even though the _find the path_ has expired.  It’s only twenty minutes later that Dranko hears a very strange noise coming from behind a large mossy boulder still fifty feet away.  He motions for everyone else to stop, and the rest of the Company hears it too.  

It sounds like a repeating rhythmic buzzing sound, alternating with a weird beep.   Had anyone in the Company known what it meant, they might have used the word “hydraulic” to describe the sound.

“Sounds mechanical,” says Aravis.

“Sounds like something we’ll have to attack,” says Grey Wolf.

“We shouldn’t, unless it provokes us,” says Dranko.

“Like I said,” says Grey Wolf.  

The Company moves closer to the boulder to investigate.   The sound continues, but now they hear something new – a sound like an automatic saw-blade spinning up, followed by a noise of splintering wood.  Grey Wolf lifts his eyebrows.

“Maybe it’s chopping down trees,” says Dranko nervously.

“I’ve got an idea,” says Flicker brightly.  “Whatever it is, we’ll capture it, take it back to the coliseum, and Dranko can fight it to the death!”

They reach the boulder, a round hunk of rock over twenty feet in diameter, and the strange sounds are still coming from the other side of it.   Now that they’re closer, they can hear that it’s actually two sets of sounds, nearly identical.  Click, buzz, whir, beep.  Dranko scrambles up the boulder, crouches down when he nears the top, and peers over.

He sees right away that they’re intact versions of the smashed machine the Company found in the coliseum.  There are two of them, each about six feet in diameter, trundling slowly along.  They look like hodgepodge collections of machine parts and metal plates, rolling on wheels when possible and scooting on feet when necessary.  Each has four strangely-jointed metal arms ending in sharp spikes, and assorted other moving parts – spinning tops, rotating gears, belts, tubes and the like.  Dranko is reminded of the Apparatus of Aristus that the gnome was working on back at the Eye of the Storm.

As Dranko looks at them, one of them notices him, stops moving,  and “looks” back.  Something inside spins quickly, and a bright light shines in Dranko’s eyes.  He instinctively shields himself with a hand and turns away.

“What are you things?” demands Dranko, calling down to them.

One of them makes some inscrutable semi-vocal sounds – clicks and buzzes interspersed.    It sounds sort of like language, so Dranko casts _comprehend languages_ just in time to hear the word “...engaged.” 

From a spout somewhere inside the thing’s body, a wide jet of flames shoots out at Dranko.  He just manages to duck out of the way, crouching behind the boulder as moss is burned from its top.  Dranko smells the burning tips of his own hair.

“I think it’s hostile,” he announces to his friends, as he clings to the side of the boulder away from the strange machines.  He can hear their strange voices, which repeat over and over again:  “Bzzzz.  Self-defense protocols engaged.  Bzzzz.  Self-defense protocols engaged...”

Craning his neck, he shouts over the boulder at them:  “I AM NOT ATTACKING YOU!   I AM A FRIEND!”

They just repeat themselves, one right after the other, like an echo.   Then, yet another new sound.  Chop-chop-chop-chop-chop.   It quickly gets louder, until Dranko sees one of the creatures rising up above the boulder on the other side.

“Holy crap!” shouts Dranko, who sees it first.  “It’s levitating upward and swinging swords around its head!”

When it crests the boulder it announces once more:  “Bzzzz.  Self-defense protocols engaged,” and sprays the entire area around the waiting Company with flames.  Smoke rises from burned vegetation and various party members.

“What the hell is that?” shouts Flicker.  He fishes out his sling and lets fly two bullets, but they just bounce off some of the metal plates.  

Wisely, the party starts to scatter as well as they can while they return fire.  Grey Wolf pegs it with an _acid orb_, setting the thing’s metal bits to hissing and smoking.  Snokas fires off an arrow that’s deflected like the sling stone.  Kibi uncorks a lightning bolt, and for a split-second electricity plays around the whole “body” of the machine.  But almost instantly the electricity rushes down a thin cord dangling from the machine-creature and dissipates harmlessly into the ground.  

“It’s immune to lightning!” calls Dranko from the boulder.  “It’s got some magic cord hanging down that nullified the electricity!”

“It’s grounded,” calls back Aravis, understanding.

“No, it’s flying!” returns Dranko.  Can’t they see it?  “We’re the ones grounded!”

Aravis sighs.  It’s just not worth the explanation.

The grounding wire seems to have no effect on Morningstar’s _flame strike_, which brings down dark flames on both the metal beasts. 

A wonderful idea comes into Dranko’s head as he watches the “whirling swords” of the machine.  On his first trip to the provisioners,  the day after being summoned to Abernathy’s tower, Dranko had purchased himself a fishing net.  Having carried it around all these years, here’s finally a chance to put it to use.

“Net,” he calls, and it comes into his hand from his magic _widemouth pouch_.    He grips one of its weighted edges, hefts it in his hands, and flings it at the flying machine.  It’s not a perfect throw, but the leading edge goes just far enough, and the whole net gets twirled into the thing’s propeller.  A horrible wrenching sound comes from the machine, right before it drops from the sky and lands with a metallic thud.

“Self-defense protocols engaged,” comes its emotionless voice.

“That was good,” says Grey Wolf.  “That was very, very good.”

Step, closest to the second machine, charges toward it.   The machine has the same idea; it extends its own propeller and shoots toward step, hovering a few feet off the ground.  As it flies it unfolds its four spike-tipped arms and drives three of them right through Step’s armor.  Blood pours from the holes.  With careful and practiced placement, Aravis and Ernie pound the machines with a _fireball_ and _flame strike_ respectively. 

Dranko hears a whirring saw-blade sound from the one he netted, and in several places the net pops away, cut.  From a nozzle it spews flame over half the party.  Roots, rocks and clothing are blackened.

“Self-defense my ass!” Dranko exclaims.

Grey Wolf pegs the netted machine with another _acid orb_.  He’s rewarded with even more hissing and smoke, and then the propeller droops down, melted, while a jet of steam shoots out the machine’s back.  “Defense protoccccclllllllpffffff...” it says, before shutting down at last.

The other machine is soon overwhelmed.  Snokas drives a pick into its gears, Kibi nails it with a _coldfire_, and Step, emboldened by a popular _healing circle_ from Morningstar, hacks it with his _keen_ broadsword.  He severs enough important tubes and wires that it abruptly stops talking, falls five feet to the ground, and lies still.

...to be continued...


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

All right. I expected to wait days after your last post.  That is a cute baby, and New Zealand is pleasing to the eye as well.

GW


----------



## coyote6

Sagiro and (contact), all in one week!


----------



## Plane Sailing

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “Holy crap!” shouts Dranko, who sees it first. “It’s levitating upward and swinging swords around its head!”




Brilliant description of a helicopter!


----------



## Sagiro

Given the increasingly lengthy gaps between updates, and the moderate complexity of a story now ongoing for almost 10 years of real time, I understand that readers will invariably lose track of some plot threads, forget about now-distant events and characters, etc.  Please feel free to ask for reminders about anything you think may be important.  I, or someone, will answer them if possible.  

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 228*_
*Clues*

“Those things SUCKED!” 

Dranko nudges one of the machine-creatures with his foot, then casts a healing spell on One Certain Step.

“But,” he continues, narrowing his eyes, “I wonder if you can take those fire-shooters out and use them as weapons.”

The creature sparks and twitches; Dranko jumps back, but it doesn’t move again.  Morningstar shoos him away and casts _thought capture_ but only gets a pained memory from Step.

“What _is_ this thing,” asks the paladin, mostly-rhetorically.

“I don’t know,” says Dranko, “But I want a souvenir out of it.  It destroyed my net!”

“We’ll buy you a new one,” says Grey Wolf.

Since the _find the path_ has run out, and the Company is likely going to camp nearby, they spend a couple of hours carefully searching the “corpses” of these strange things.  The three wizards are especially interested in their function.   Though they are marvels of engineering, they could not have moved or attacked without heavy ongoing magic.  The fire attack in particular _must_ have been magical; there’s no container or other source of fuel for its flame jet.  But there’s no magic on them now.

Dranko and Flicker are more interested in the “material science” behind the mechanical constructs.  Each one has three chocolate-bar-sized platinum rods at the base of the propeller, six four-inch-diameter adamantine discs from various joints, and a modest diamond (valued at over 2000 GP, at Kibi’s and Flicker’s guesses) behind the flashing lens in its “head.”

“We should take apart all of our enemies from now on,” Dranko says, prying one of the diamonds loose from a steel housing.  “But what should we call these things.  I need a label for ‘em.”

He is answered from an airy voice from the trees above.

“We call them ‘Screel.’”

Everyone leaps to their feet, weapons again drawn, and looks up.  They see nothing.

“Uh.  Hi,” calls up Dranko.  “Thanks for telling us.  If you’d like to come down...”

“Who are you?” asks the voice.

“I’m Dranko Blackhope.”

“We’re just travelers passing through,” says Kibi.  “We didn’t mean any harm, but these things attacked us.”

“Did you come from the arena with the Lumbrese?” asks the voice.  “The blue lizard?”

“Oh, that,” says Aravis off-handedly.  “It’s dead.”

“I hope it wasn’t a friend of yours,” adds Morningstar hastily.

“No, no, no!” says the voice.  “We’re happy to hear it’s gone.”

“It’s dead, but there’s no escape past it,” says Dranko.

“Oh?  What’s beyond it?”

“Lightning,” answers Dranko.  “Lots and lots and lots of lightning.  And past the lightning is a plane with nothing but air.  Just a long corridor of air, with no exit.”

“Ah.  I’m sorry to hear all of that.”  The voice sounds sad and disappointed.

“Are you trying to find your way out?” asks Kibi.

“Not anymore.  All the ways lead to death.  But you are able to defeat the Screel.  You are very powerful!”

“More powerful than the Screel, at least,” says Dranko, nodding.

“What other ways out are th...?” Aravis starts to ask, but Dranko interrupts him.

“Hey, will you at least tell us your name?  And why don’t you come down here where we can talk more comfortably.”

Two creatures descend from their hiding places in the tree-tops.  They are small, slender humanoids, no taller than Ernie, with delicate fly-wings.  Their eyes are long and alien, like those of the deer.   Their wings make a soft humming noise as they fly.

“My name is Reynoso,” says one, as they land, still cautious,  a few feet off from the party.  The other says nothing but stares wide-eyed at them.  Reynoso speaks in a high-pitched twittering language that is instantly translated to Charagan common by a translator disc around his neck – just like many folks had at the Eye of the Storm.

“What are your people called?” asks Dranko, once Reynoso’s feet are on the ground.

“We are called the Solfar.  What are you?”

“Most of us are human.  A couple of us are half-orcs.”  He notices the second Solfar is starting directly at Kibi, and adds, “He’s a dwarf.  His name is Kibilhathur Bimson.”

Reynoso’s companion points at Kibi and starts twittering excitedly in her own tongue.  Kibi activates his _ioun stone of tongues_.  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re the one from the statues!” she says.

“You mean like this?” asks Kibi, pulling out the little figurine of himself that Omar had given him.  

“You have one too!” she exclaims.  “Have you met the man who made them?”

“No.  Er... have you?” asks Kibi.

“Yes!”

“Where is he?”

“He left us a long time ago,” says the Solfar woman.

“Was he all right?” asks Kibi.

“No, he was mad,” says Reynoso.   “He was an old, bearded, straggly... human.  Like you.  Like him, but older.”  He points at Step.

The female Solfar whispers to Reynoso, “I should fetch Ilyrio right away.”  Reynoso nods, and his companion flies off.

“I’m not getting into any machine!” shouts Kibi after her.  Then, as an afterthought, he mutters to Step, “He’s not evil, is he?”

Step shakes his head.

“So, where did you get that translator thingy?" asks Dranko.

“Some travelers brought them, many years ago,” says Reynoso.  “They had some they weren’t using and gave them to us.”

“We visited a place full of good people, and many of them had discs just like that one.”

“There are other people trapped like us, then?” asks Reynoso, eyes widening.

“Oh, sure!” says Dranko.  He fishes in his pack and pulls out his map of the Slices.  Before he can get started on what would no doubt be a faithful retelling of the Company’s adventures, Reynoso cuts him off with a gesture.

“Please... wait for my friend to return.  We have sent for a scribe, who will write down everything you say.”

“Um... no problem,” says Dranko with a shrug.

“Should we be worried about more Screel finding us?” asks Morningstar, looking around.

“No,” says Reynoso.  “Not if the pattern holds.  We shouldn’t see any more for a week.”

“Where do they come from?” asks Kibi.

“One of the other blue doorways.  They usually come out in pairs.  This was your first encounter with them, then?”

“Yup,” says Dranko.  “They went on and on about ‘self-defense.’  Pfffff.”

Reynoso sighs.  “I’ve never heard them say anything else.”

“Charming,” says Dranko.

“What do they _do,_” asks Grey Wolf,  “when they’re not torching passing adventurers?”

“If they don’t see us, they move through the woods until they find one of the blue doorways, and then they go through it.  If they _do_ see one of us, they say that phrase over and over again while attacking.  We’ve lost several of our number to them.  They fly as fast as we do, though either down near the ground or above the trees.  The branches and hanging moss interfere with their gears and wheels and flying apparatus.” 

When an awkward silence follows, Dranko breaks it by lightning a cigar and asking, “So, how long have you been here?  And what is this place called?”

Reynoso looks at Dranko nervously.  “We’ve been trapped here for sixteen years.  Our homeland is called Solfaria.  And what is that?”  

He points at Dranko’s cigar.

“Do you want one?” asks Dranko.

“Say no,” advises Aravis.

“Is he going to breathe fire, like the Screel?” asks the Solfar.

“No,” says Aravis.  “Just smoke.  Nasty smoke.  It’s not harmful unless you breathe it in.”

“Fascinating.  We should be writing this down.  Please, no more discussion while we wait for the scribe.”

“Scribes are very important to you,” says Morningstar.

“Yes!  It’s very important that we write down everything.  History, and its accurate recording, is one of the highest priorities of the Solfar.  We are keepers of knowledge.”

Kibi raises his eyebrows.  “Do you have written notes from when the man who made the statues was here?”

“Yes, of course,” says Reynoso.

“We’d like to look at them,” says Kibi, trying to hide his sudden anticipation.

“Most of it was nonsensical ravings,” says Reynoso, “but we did write it all down.”

“We’re experts in nonsensical ravings!” exclaims Dranko.


* *


A few minutes later the scribe arrives, descending gently to stand next to Reynoso.  He carries a pack filled with scrolls and quills.  A translator disc hangs around his neck by a string.

“Hello.  My name is Ilyrio.  Esheria told me there was need of a scribe.”  

Even before he has finished his introduction, Ilyrio has fished out a pot of ink, unrolled a piece of parchment and readied his pen.

He looks at the Company expectantly.  

No one says anything for a good ten seconds.

Aravis breaks the silence this time. “We’re interested in hearing more about the man who made the statues.”

“Of course,” says Reynoso.  “And we’re interesting in knowing why he had statues of _you_.”  He nods at Kibi.

“Well, that’s what I want to find out!” says Kibi.

“Because he’s good looking,” suggests Dranko.  The scribe dutifully writes that opinion.

“How long ago was he here?” asks Aravis.

“He came to us not long after we discovered we were trapped.  Fourteen years ago it was.”

“We’re hoping we can put this all back, some way,” says Morningstar.

“You mean return this piece of Solfaria to the rest?” asks Reynoso.  “Good!  Do you know, then, why we’re connected to other dangerous places?”

“This was done by some evil shamans,” explains Morningstar.

“So they meant to trap us here?”

“Sort of,” says Morningstar.  “We think it’s an experiment gone wrong.  But they weren’t up to anything good.”

“They weren’t trying to trap you specifically, if it makes you feel better,” says Aravis.

“There are lots of pieces of lots of worlds cut off, and strung together,” adds Kibi.

“And you can fix things,” says Reynoso.   “I think that’s what the man said, though I haven’t looked at his transcriptions in a long time.”

“Like I said, I’d really like to see them,” says Kibi.  “Different people seem to have different ideas about what I should do, but none of them really know.”

“And I’d be pleased to tell you all about my life, and where we’re from, if you want to write it all down,” says Dranko expansively.

“Yes!”  says Ilyrio.  “Of course!” 

The scribe is writing astonishingly fast, in tiny handwriting on his parchment scroll.  He easily keeps up with the conversation, noting it word for word.

Dranko opens his mouth to begin, but Ernie kicks him.

“Only say polite things, Dranko.  None of your.... stories.”

“And you can ask him to stop smoking, if you don’t like it,” adds Kibi.

“Well, it is fouling the air...” says Ilyrio.

Dranko extinguishes his cigar by stubbing it on Ernie’s armor.

To Ernie’s look of indignation, Dranko responds, “It’s okay.  When I made your armor, I made little rough spots so I could light matches and snub out cigars on it.”

While Ernie just stands there with his mouth open, Dranko muses out loud to himself, “Next time, I think I’ll make a magical hot spot on the armor, so I can light my cigars just by touching it.”

“And look, they’ve recorded your wonderful ideas,” says Kibi.  “’The ravings of the mad half-orc,’ they’ll call it.”

“Ooooh.  Ernie, show ‘em.  Pull the little finger!” says Dranko.

“No!”

Aravis clears his throat and points at Dranko.  “For the record, I don’t want to be included in the archive with him.” 


* *

For a long while the Company shows the Solfar their map, and tells them about their adventures in Het Branoi while the scribe writes at a furious pace.  Then Reynoso tells the Company their own tale.

“For a long, long time, after we discovered the nature of our predicament, we tried to find a way out.   There were over two hundred of us trapped.  Now we are only thirty.  Many of us died going to where the demons live, thinking to find a doorway beyond that led to safety.   Many died, we presume, going into the doorway from where come the Screel, hoping to find a way to stop their attacks.  None ever came back.  Yet more were slain by the Lumbrese, and while some made it past and through the horizontal doorway in the coliseum, none of _them_ ever came back either.  And a dozen or so of us went through a third blue doorway, and a week later the door itself changed from blue to gray.  Now it is... disturbing... to go through, and it doesn’t lead anywhere.

“Eventually Sonia, our eldest, decided it was enough, that some day this would end on its own, and that we should stay in hiding until then, and avoid the Screel as best we can.”

“I like these guys too much,” whispers Dranko to the others.  “That means something horrible is going to happen to them, doesn’t it?”  Out loud, he says, “Do you guys have a map of what you’ve explored?”

“No,” says Reynoso, “but we have recorded the words of those who made it back alive.  Beyond our woods is a... Slice, you call them?  A Slice with demons, and beyond that is another Slice with more demons.  There’s probably a way out beyond, but none of us have made it that far.  A handful of  travelers have come from there over the years, and they said things like, ‘I can’t believe how lucky we were to have survived.’  Some had lost companions to the demons.  One or two left us and went back in, and another couple left in the direction of the Lumbrese.  One went to where the Screel come from, and we didn’t see her again.  There have been only six such travelers in our sixteen years here, though it’s possible there have been others who came by one doorway and left by another without us even knowing.” 

Ilyrio fishes out a number of scrolls covered with tiny writing.  

“These are what we wrote, from the ravings from the mad sculptor,” he says.  “Please understand: most of what he ‘said’ was just noises, with no translation.  And he was usually silent, laboriously carving little statues of Kibilhathur.  We built him a small house, on the ground since he could not fly, and brought him food and water.  A Scribe was always with him.  These scrolls contain the only lucid things he said.  Twice he was talking to himself, and twice he addressed the Scribe directly.”

Kibi takes the scrolls, casts _comprehend languages_, and reads aloud to the others.  


*(Directly to the Scribe) What if the beard is wrong?  He’s so touchy about the beard.   For a faulty beard could my whole plan fall into ruin?  His image shifts so, and the details are sometimes blurry.  And what of the rocks at his feet?*

- -

*(Directly to the Scribe): One thing I still don’t understand, why is the interstitial matrix in the far realms?  I might have expected astral or ethereal or shadow.  Even dream would have been plausible.  Could wild magic be connected into the unspeakable reaches?   It would be a measure of success if that is where the master is and would more explain his need, but at the same time would mean the whole enterprise was misguided from the start.  Even the lowest of infinite layers is no closer or farther from the madness than anywhere else.  More of the yellow fruits, please.  I enjoy them immensely.*

- -

*If I ever find clouds in this mess I’m going to have his viscera for stew.  Stop clamping the wild magic.  More silver dragon blood.  I’m sure the instability is normal given our power source.   Don’t let’s waste any more precious essence on the structure.  It’ll all be fine.  Such seductive words.  Such idiocy in hindsight.  And that stupid, stupid woman of his.   It’s a miracle she wasn’t throwing dinner parties for the slaves in the rotunda.  Did she think we were all on holiday?  If there’s any justice clouds has discovered the elemental plane of hornets and the cleaners have eaten the only way out.*

- -

*I carve he who will undo my mistake. He won't know, so I carve, his face so clear it muddies my thoughts, so people can tell him, he is the key. He will open the way out of here. The source thrashes like a wild beast, trying to escape its cage. The dwarf can bring peace to my caged beast, lift it away so it never troubles me again.  Past the demons now, the abyss brought home, the heart of our hut,  there is the beast, casting about, ripping away pieces of the universe with no stopping it.  It should have worked! It did work! We tore an opening to the abyss where from to call our lord home. Alone of my brothers I hid, and strived, and succeeded. The call went out. We were to be his beacon, so floating in the vastness of the cosmos he would hear our voice and find us and reward our long service and punish who defied him, who blinded and bound him even as they fled. He is the circle and the circle is he.  But I failed him. Curse the day I found the eye and set it within my wheels, and now gem and essence both marred.  I must escape to rebuild and try again.*

...to be continued...


----------



## Plane Sailing

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Curse the day I found *the eye* and set it within my wheels




Ooooo....


----------



## KidCthulhu

Oh yeah.  There's nothing this party likes more than unraveling raving, bibbling prophetic nonsense.

No, really.  That's not sarcasm.  We really do.  At least there are no turtles in this one!


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

The turtle prophecy was my fave.

BTW, I'm very glad to see this SH getting updated semi-regularly...  I've been reading it since nearly the very beginning of the forum, and it's the one I raid the most often for ideas for my own game.  Which brings up - once you've got this portion done, could you give a more detailed explanation of the Slices and how they work and how you created them?  For example, I'm curious if you chose each Slice's contents or if you used any random generation in the process...


----------



## el-remmen

I freely admit that I have stole.  . . er, _borrowed_ a lot from this story hour for my own campaign, but I hate it when things mirror my own game accidentally, b/c it makes me look like a bigger thief than I really am. . .


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Nice little flying creatures.  I guess the bad guys had to put in food for the Lumbrese.

GW


----------



## Sabriel

> “I like these guys too much,” whispers Dranko to the others. “That means something horrible is going to happen to them, doesn’t it?”




This just after the Solfar has described how most of their people have variously been slaughtered by an overgrown carnivorous lizard or homicidal animated helicopters, or never came back from portals full of demons and cleaners and stuff...

I think the horrible things have already been happening!

P.S. Fantastic story! Thankyou!


----------



## Destil

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Oh yeah.  There's nothing this party likes more than unraveling raving, bibbling prophetic nonsense.
> 
> No, really.  That's not sarcasm.  We really do.  At least there are no turtles in this one!



 I'd rather like a shot, myself...


			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> *(Directly to the Scribe): One thing I still don’t understand, why is the interstitial matrix in the far realms?  I might have expected astral or ethereal or shadow.  Even dream would have been plausible.  Could wild magic be connected into the unspeakable reaches?   It would be a measure of success if that is where the master is and would more explain his need, but at the same time would mean the whole enterprise was misguided from the start.  Even the lowest of infinite layers is no closer or farther from the madness than anywhere else.  More of the yellow fruits, please.  I enjoy them immensely.*



They were working to get closer to... something or someone who's traped and they seem to have assumed that was in the Abyss... that explains the number of demon slices.



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> *It should have worked! It did work! We tore an opening to the abyss where from to call our lord home. Alone of my brothers I hid, and strived, and succeeded. The call went out. We were to be his beacon, so floating in the vastness of the cosmos he would hear our voice and find us and reward our long service and punish who defied him, who blinded and bound him even as they fled. He is the circle and the circle is he.  But I failed him. Curse the day I found the eye and set it within my wheels, and now gem and essence both marred.  I must escape to rebuild and try again.*



Oh, boy... isn't the main pantheon of Charigan "The Travelers" who fled some great unnamed enemy long ago? And wasn't there that line from the stones about "Fear the emperor, but he is only the means to an end, fear the end more" or some such... and here the black circle is working to... oh, my...


----------



## Sagiro

Destil:  obviously I cannot publically confirm or deny any of your guesses or suspicions.  (And my players have made similar guesses, among many others.)  But right or wrong, I like the way you think!  

Sabriel: you're quite welcome.

KidCharlemagne:  when the Story Hour has finished with Het Branoi I'll be happy to talk about the Slices, if there are any unanswered questions at that point.  You might be disappointed by the lack of algorithmic complexity in their determination, though.

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 229*_
*Ice, Ice, Baby*

Kibi finishes his dramatic reading of the Solfar transcriptions.

Ilyrio comments, “Ah, the rocks at your feet.  We had wondered about that.  They’re depicted in almost all the carvings.”

He rummages in his bag and pulls out a half-dozen more little statuettes of Kibi, all slightly different, some wood, some stone, but clearly made by the same hand.  Scree is present in all of them, intricately carved.  

“Can I have one for my collection?” asks Dranko.

“Certainly,” answers the Solfar.  “We have many more.  He had a constant demand for rocks and pieces of wood, and he was carving or chiseling whenever he wasn’t eating or sleeping.”

“Soooo,” says Dranko, scratching his head.  “The crazy guy is the one responsible for this whole mess.  And the Black Circle is the symbol of a Demon Lord of the Abyss, who they’re trying to rescue.”

“And we want to stop him from ‘trying again,’ that’s for sure,” adds Kibi.

That kicks off a long round of speculation about what’s really going on with all of this.  There’s talk about the Abyss and the nature of demons, about the Far Realms (whatever that is) and how it might be connected to Wild Magic, about the Black Circle and its ultimate goals, about what the “Interstitial Matrix” is, and how all of these things are interrelated.   

Ilyrio writes it all down for posterity, which makes Morningstar nervous.   When she expresses her reservations, the scribe nods understandingly, and offers to keep the Company transcripts hidden and private.

“If I were an Big Evil God,” says Dranko, “and trying to get folks to help me, I wouldn’t _tell_ people I was a Big Evil God.   I’d tell them I was an abstract concept of knowledge.”

Flicker raises his eyebrows.

“Would you?” asks Aravis skeptically.

“Well, no, I _personally_ wouldn’t.   But I could see someone with more subtlety and intelligence deciding that was a good idea.”

“In other words,” says Aravis with a smirk, “it’s something Pewter might do, because...”

“Let’s just stop right there,” interrupts Dranko.   Then he mutters, “the fact that your cat keeps beating me at chess is no reason to rub that in.”  And then finally, “Er... I wasn’t going to say that out loud.”

“That’s all right,” thinks Pewter to Aravis.  “I won’t tell anyone that I give him pawn and move every game.”

“Look at the bright side,” says Aravis.  “You can use utensils.”

“Not that he chooses to, most of the time,” says Kibi.

“But I _can,_” protests Dranko.

Edghar thinks to Grey Wolf, “I can use utensils, _and_ I’m smarter than him.”

“He knows,” answers Grey Wolf.  “I won’t bring it up.”

Aravis notes with amusement that the out-loud portions of this exchange are being dutifully scribed by Ilyrio.

“Morningstar,” he says, “I don’t think we have to worry about anyone who’s following us learning useful information from the Solfar.  Our transcriptions will be indistinguishable from any other ravings of a madman.”

The conversation gets back on track, but no one reaches any firm conclusions.  Ernie brings up the disturbing idea that the “our lord” mentioned might be the Adversary, from whom the Traveling Gods fled before coming to Charagan.   Everyone is reminded that whatever was going on in the Hets, the Black Circle thought it was dangerous enough to put a stop to it.  Maybe because linking worlds is such a perilous enterprise?  It’s certainly wreaking havoc all around them. 

Kibi thinks, and the rest agree, that the Black Circle was using the Eye of Moirel to punch a hole into the Abyss.  The Company decides that going into the Demon Slices will get them closer to finding out what’s going on, and they opt to leave that way rather than go to where the Screel are coming from.  Kibi makes copies for himself of the “mad sculptor’s” transcripts and thanks the Solfar for their help. 

Dranko seems happy with the decision.

“It’s okay,” he says, putting on a brave face.  “I like demons....more than those stupid mechanical things, anyhow.”

“Which are coming,” says Flicker wistfully, “from a place filled with diamonds and platinum bars and adamantium thingies and...”

“Flicker,” warns Grey Wolf, giving the halfling a look.

“They’re immune to your sneak attacks,” Dranko points out.

“Well, you all kill ‘em, and I’ll loot ‘em,” answers Flicker.  “How’s that sound?”

But nobody’s buying it.


* *

The party spends the night in a _Leomund’s secure shelter_, though Ernie and Flicker opt to stay in one of the empty tree-houses.  The next morning they ask the Solfar about the first Demon Slice.

“It’s extremely cold,” says Reynoso.  “Cold enough that we cannot survive without magical protections.   We’ve seen nothing there but ice and demons.”

Dranko is feeling nauseated and chilled, and is disheartened to find that he once again cannot reach the inner-peace required to accept spells from Delioch.   Ernie tries casting _break enchantment_ (“Bad spell!  Leave Dranko alone!  Evil magic, I cast thee out!”), but it has no effect.   A _detect magic_ shows the hideous taint of the Cleaners still hovering about his body.  

Morningstar brings out the big guns and casts _greater restoration_, willingly sacrificing some of her own life essence to cleanse her betrothed.  As she touches him to cast the spell, she is nearly overcome with nausea herself.  Then, as when a bandage is quickly torn from a healed wound, there is a flash of pain they both share, followed by a soothing sense of relief.  

“I had no idea now corrupted and nasty I felt,” says Dranko.

“Yeah, you were corrupted and nasty,” Morningstar agrees.

“And she never knew quite how to tell you before now,” says Flicker impishly.   

“So, this is a lesson to all of us.,” admonishes Morningstar.  “No playing with tentacles.”.

With everyone fortified with _endure elements: cold_, the Company strikes out through the forest to the Way to the Demon Slices, less than an hour’s walk away.  Flicker mutters his misgivings about the loot they’re leaving behind in the Screel Slice, but no one else cares.   At last they arrive, and say farewell to the Solfar.

“Best of luck to you,” says Reynoso with a bow.  “You’re the best hope we’ve seen to end this madness and set the world to rights.”

Dranko, rope tied around his waist, jumps through the blue portal.   A few seconds later he steps out the other end and sinks up to his knees in powdery snow.  A strong wind whips through his hair, stirring up the snow into opaque clouds.   Fortunately the _endure elements_ is holding; he feels cold, but not dangerously so.  As the others tug on his rope he grabs a handful of snow before returning.  Back in the forest he pegs Ernie with a snowball.

“We’re going to need our snowshoes,” he says, as Ernie splutters and wipes cold water from his face.

Fortunately the party _has_ snowshoes – well, sand-shoes – that they bought from the folk of Green Valley for a magical halberd.  Everyone puts on a pair, and they all dive into the Abyss.

It’s disturbing.  They feel the same unsettling wrongness with the world that they experienced while pursuing Srapa through other Demon Slices.  The Abyss is not like anything else in the multiverse, and it resonates jarringly with living souls.  

The terrain itself is flat beneath the piled snow.   Visibility is dangerously poor.  No significant features, manmade or otherwise, are evident.  Aravis looks around and exhales a steaming breath.

“So, does anyone have any idea how we’re going to continue?”

“Morningstar will cast _find the path_ like she always does, and...” starts Dranko, but Aravis interrupts.

“No, I mean... what are we trying to _find_.  I know our goal is get the Eye of Moirel, but how are we going to _do_ that?”

“We’ve got the mad sculptor’s words,” says Kibi.  “’Past the demons’.  We go to the ‘Heart of the Hut,’ find the Eye of Moirel that’s taking chunks of the universe and sticking them in here, and we walk in, and say ‘stop!’”

“And the Eyes we already have will help,” he adds hopefully, with a glance at Scree.

“It’s about time they pulled their weight,” Ernie nods. 

“You mean they’ll actually _do_ something?” says Grey Wolf sarcastically.

“Well, they did just destroy an entire Slice,” says Kibi.  “That’s something.”


* *


Morningstar doesn’t have a _wind walk_ prepared, so after she casts _find the path_ the Company strikes out overland on their snowshoes.   Half the party is connected by a _telepathic bond_ as standard operating procedure.  Visibility being what it is, they stay in close formation, and all holding onto a long length of rope (which soon becomes stiff and rimed with ice).

For an hour or more they trudge slowly through the blizzard, feet crunching in the dry powder.  Everyone is nervously aware that demons could be lurking close by, made effectively invisible by the blowing snow.  Other than their own footsteps, the only sound is of the howling wind around their heads.  Even marching in a close line, no one can see much further than the person ahead of them.  

Suddenly there’s a tremendous cracking sound, audible even above the wind.  One minute Grey Wolf is walking atop eight inches of snow.  The next he is pitching helplessly forward into a crevasse.  Only Ernie, last in line, sees what happens.

“Grey Wolf is plummeting!” he both shouts and thinks (being on the _telepathic bond_).  Grey Wolf is also shouting, for his part.  

Kibi hardly stops to think.  He _polymorphs_ into a small dragon and flies down into the revealed ravine after Grey Wolf.   Dranko starts tying rope around himself, planning a rescue.  Ernie doesn’t have time to do much more than shout his warning before the crevasse widens beneath his feet; a moment later he too is tumbling down into the icy crack.  

Kibi’s and Dranko’s rescue attempts turn out to be unnecessary.  Grey Wolf, bouncing, sliding and scraping along on a rapid descent, manages to grasp the _wand of flying_ on his belt and use it before he is bruised to death.  Ernie similarly activates his _winged shield_.  The two of them are alarmed to see a silvery dragon flying down toward them, and Grey Wolf is almost ready to blast it,  but on closer inspection he sees that this dragon has a suspiciously dwarf-like beard.  

Less than a minute after Grey Wolf’s unexpected plunge, everyone is safe again on the far side of the crevasse.   Morningstar peers down, wondering how deep it goes.

“Not something I expected in the Abyss,” she says.  “I figured it would be hotter.”

“And shouldn’t there be demons?” asks Flicker.

“And Devils?” asks Dranko.

“No, Devils live in Hell,” corrects Aravis.

“Devils and Demons are the same thing,” says Dranko.

“No, they’re not,” says Aravis with a sigh.  Hasn’t he explained this before?

“Yes they are,” insists Dranko.

“No they’re not.”

“Yes they are.”

“No they’re not.”

“Look,” says Dranko stubbornly.  “Do bad people’s souls come here?”

“Some of them,” says Aravis patiently.

“Well, I _know_ that when bad people die, their souls go to Hell.  So this must be Hell _and_ the Abyss.  So Demons and Devils must be the same.”

“At the rate you’re going,” says Aravis between clenched teeth, “you’re going to find out, one way or another.”


* *

The slow pace and inherent vulnerability of the ground march prompts Morningstar to fill an empty spell slot with a _wind walk_ after all.  She can’t get everyone, and the _ring of djinni summoning_ doesn’t work in Het Branoi, so Aravis _polymorphs_ himself into a dragon to match Kibi.  There are some logistical problems with communication and direction, but these are soon sorted out, and the Company makes much better time.  

Twice the party stops to land, each time giving the dragons a breather and allowing Morningstar to cast a fresh _find the path_.  When the last of the tracking spells runs out and the Company gets ready to make camp, Kibi and Aravis revert to their human forms.  Scree is released from Kibi’s _familiar pocket_ and immediately starts complaining about his master’s decision to fly.

“Would you rather I be misty?” asks Kibi.  “Isn’t it better that I’m a _solid_ flying creature, at least?”

“It would be better to be neither,” says Scree sullenly.  “Better not to assume any form that loses contact with the ground.  You could have cast _xorn movement_, and we’d be swimming through the ground like normal people.  Aravis could have _polymorphed_ into something big enough to carry someone.”

Kibi stands with his mouth agape; the others don’t know what’s bothering him, since this dressing-down is taking place over the empathic link.

“And besides,” adds Scree, “a big flying lizard isn’t very attractive, particularly with a beard.”

With that, Scree sinks into the ground.

Before turning solid some of the wind-walkers do a last fly-around to check the area.  The wind has died down somewhat over the past hour, improving visibility.  Ernie spots a group of creatures up ahead – six or seven – trudging through the snow.  Dranko glides forward in mist-form to investigate.

*>> ...prompting this exchange:

DM:  Make me a Hide check.

Piratecat:  “Only a 35.”

DM:  Unfortunately, there’s a Sarcasm Penalty.*

Dranko is not spotted.  He can see that two of the creatures aren’t humanoid; they’re huge arachnid beasts over ten feet across.  The remaining creatures are squat little bipeds with pot-bellies and long spindly arms dragging in the snow.    They’re headed in a direction that shouldn’t take them anywhere near the party.  The half-orc returns to the other to report.

“Well,” he says smugly.  “They aren’t demons _or_ devils.  There are just two really, really big spiders and a bunch of small fat guys with long arms.”

“Sounds like demons to me,” says Aravis.  “This little ones are called “dretches.”  They’re the cannon fodder of the demon world.”

“Get out,” says Dranko.  “Everyone knows demons are red, and have little horns, and tails, and carry pitchforks.”

“What do they teach you in those temples?” asks Aravis, throwing his hands up.  “I’m telling you, those are demons.  I’ll bet the arachnids are bebeliths.”

“Huh,” says Dranko.  “Should we go fight them?”

It’s not a popular idea.  Instead, Aravis waits until the demons are safely far away, and casts another _secure shelter_ for the night.   Since the spell uses local materials, they end with an igloo – warm but not comfortable, with glistening walls.  The party burns the tables and chairs in the fireplace for extra warmth.  Since _endure elements_ lasts a full 24 hours, everyone should be safe for the night, and Scree volunteers to keep watch outside.  (The cold doesn’t bother him underground, and he can sense vibrations if anyone approaches).

When he thinks no one’s looking, Dranko licks one of the igloo walls, just to satisfy his curiosity.  Curiously, his tongue sticks, and he’s obliged to use a healing orison when he tears some of the skin off of it.  Flicker, watching from his bunk, manages not to laugh.


* *

“Kibi, there’s something out here.  Kibi, wake up!”

The dwarf shakes his head groggily.  

“What is it?” he thinks to his familiar.

“A bunch of ice-creatures.  They’re pretty ugly.  They’re about eight feet tall and they’ve got icicles like stalactites sticking out of their bodies all over the place.  It looks painful.  They’ve seen the hut, but they haven’t seen me.  You’ll probably hear them any min...”

There’s a loud raking sound on the east wall of the shelter.  Half the party sits bolt upright, while the other half sleeps through the noise.  Kibi explains the situation.

“Wake me if they start attacking with siege weapons,” says Aravis, confident that the shelter will hold.  He goes back to sleep.

“Did they _teleport_ here or walk?” asks Dranko.

“I saw them walk into my view,” says Scree, “but they may have _teleported_ nearby and then walked.  Visibility’s pretty poor out there.  Oh, and they smell funny.  Like they have rotten meat inside their icy bodies.”

Yeah, come to think of it, there is a faint, putrid aroma starting to seep into the hut.

“Guess it’s not a ‘secure-from-bad-smells’ shelter,” says Morningstar with a smirk.  (The integrity of Aravis’s shelters has been a sore spot ever since those balls of black energy burned holes in one like a Swiss cheese)

Ernie throws some herbs in the kettle to mask the smell.  The party starts to hear scraping on a second wall, and then an angry pounding on the door.  Nothing’s getting in, but the smell gets worse.  Scree reports there are about a dozen of the things outside.  

“We can always _teleport_ out, or _wind-walk_ out the chimney if we have to,” says Dranko.  

“Scree reports that one of them just vanished,” says Kibi.

That sets everyone on edge.  They expect for a minute that one might have _teleported_ inside, but Aravis reassures them that creatures cannot _teleport_ to a place they’ve never seen if they don’t know what the landing area looks like.   Still, everyone who has armor puts it on as a precaution.

“Three more just appeared,” says Kibi.  “Scree thinks the one that vanished went to get friends.”

The pounding on the doors and walls continues.  Finding a curious rhythm to all of this, Morningstar takes out her flute and tries to play along.  As soon as she starts, all the noise outside stops for a minute.  

“I think they’re listening,” says Scree.

“Do they like it?” asks Kibi.

“I can’t read their expressions.  Maybe.  Or maybe they weren’t sure anyone was in there until now.”

Sure enough, the pounding starts again, even louder than before.  The smell inside the shelter is starting to become pretty rank.

“I think there are around twenty of them now,” says Scree.

Eventually the incessant pounding and scraping becomes a kind of soothing white noise.  The ice-creatures don’t seem to be advancing any kind of adaptive strategy, and the Company manages to fall asleep again, long enough for the wizards to clear their minds for more spells.  They all wake hours later to a truly awful stench, though the battering must have stopped while they slept.  

“What’s out there?” thinks Kibi to Scree.

“There are about thirty of them now.  Some are keeping watch on the shelter while the rest sleep in the snow.  Ooop.  They seem to have heard you moving around in there.  The guards are waking up the sleepers.”

“We’re leaving soon,” says Kibi.  “Come on in.”

Scree moves, xorn-like, up through the floor of the igloo.  

“Hm,” says Aravis, frowning at Scree’s entrance.  “I guess Leomund had a blind spot.”

With a new batch of protection spells applied, the Company _wind-walks_ out the chimney.  Oh, ye gods, the smell!  Inside the shelter it was just a nasty stench.  Outside, where some thirty ice-demons crowd around the igloo, it would be instantly vomit-inducing to someone with a solid stomach.  

One of the creatures sees the fleeing party and points upward, shouting.  Another, not quite grasping the situation, _teleports_ upward, thinking to grab Flicker and fall with him back down to the snow.  Instead, he waves his arms clownishly through Flicker’s vaporous body and then plummets, confused, to bounce off the roof of the igloo some fifty feet below.  And then the Company is safely away, high into the cold Abyssal sky.  

...to be continued...


----------



## carpedavid

I don't have much to say other than, "Yay! Update!"


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

carpedavid said:
			
		

> I don't have much to say other than, "Yay! Update!"




Seconded.


----------



## el-remmen

Yay update!


Please sir, might we have some more with a nasty fight with several dozen ice-demons of some kind?  It would be ever so exciting!


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

> Maybe because linking words is such a perilous enterprise?




I liked it better before you fixed the typo....


----------



## KidCthulhu

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Please sir, might we have some more with a nasty fight with several dozen ice-demons of some kind?  It would be ever so exciting!




Oh, there will be demons aplenty, and before you know it.  Trust me, you'll have your fill.

We certainly did.


----------



## el-remmen

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Oh, there will be demons aplenty, and before you know it.  Trust me, you'll have your fill.
> 
> We certainly did.





YOU GUYS _ATE_ THE DEMONS!!!?!!!! That's friggin' hardcore. . .


----------



## Fajitas

el-remmen said:
			
		

> YOU GUYS _ATE_ THE DEMONS!!!?!!!!




I ONE the demons...


----------



## spyscribe

Fajitas said:
			
		

> I ONE the demons...




I TWO the demons!

(great update.   )


----------



## Sagiro

spyscribe said:
			
		

> I TWO the demons!





I'm glad my story inspires such erudite commentary.  

A short teaserrific post:

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 230*_
*A Snowball's Chance in the Abyss*

The wind isn’t blowing as strongly today as yesterday, but the air is so cold that their vaporous forms are sluggish and slower than normal.  Beats walking, though. 

Morningstar leads, following today’s first _find the path_ while the rest of the party follows _her_.  At two hundred feet in the air they can see the flat icy landscape for a good distance – snow-covered tundra, frozen boulders, roaming packs of ice-demons.  Only once that morning do they land, just long enough for Morningstar to cast a second _find the path_ when the first one runs out.    Half-way through the second one they finally spot the hoped-for shimmer of blue light on the ground.  As they get closer, it resolves into _two_ glowing blue doorways, one right next to the other.   

A thorough search reveals a large, monstrous footprint in the snow, its owner leaving this frigid Slice, heading into one of the two Ways. There is no sign of foot-traffic headed into or out of the other one.  Aravis, who hasn’t tried using the Crosser’ Maze to any advantage since the flight from the Vree’s monastery, decides to do so now.  After a warning to the others, he focuses his thoughts on the artifact in his head and quickly finds himself perched on the metaphorical window-ledge between the Inner Maze and the Outer Maze.  Back in the Demon Slice, his body falls into the snow, Pewter resting on the shoulder in case he needs to drive his master in an emergency.  

Aravis ignores the world of the Inner Maze (a stray thought:  has King Vhadish XXIII forgotten him?)  and focuses his attention on the model of the cosmos.  As before, the view of Het Branoi is much different to look at than that of the “normal” universe.  The whole of creation seems to be the single Slice he’s in, and it takes tremendous effort to get a sense of what’s beyond, but again as before, he manages to get a sense of the Slices adjacent to his own.  One of these two Ways, he sees, leads to a large Slice, clearly more Abyss, with many life-forces therein.  The other leads to a very small Slice, probably not in the Abyss, and with no living beings at all.

Learning that much drains Aravis of mental wherewithal; he finds himself back in his body, lying in the snow with Pewter licking his face.   He gets up, dusts of the snow, and shares his findings.  The footprint, not surprisingly, heads into the larger of the two Slices.  

“We should check out the smaller one first,” says Dranko.  “After all, look how useful that woman’s bedroom turned out to be.”

The others agree.  Ernie volunteers to scout, by the usual rope-around-the-waist method, and with a ten-Abernathy count.   He jumps through, endures the seconds of pulling blackness, and emerges into... more blackness.   It’s completely dark, though he notices at once that the ground is solid stone, not crunchy snow.   All is quiet.  He fishes a coin from his pocket enchanted with _continual flame_ and looks around for a few seconds before the others tug the rope.  

“I got a piece of the house,” he announces to the others.  “It’s a store-room, with that blue-diamond pattern on the walls.  It’s really dark.  Morningstar should go first and get some _thought captures_.”

“Watch out,” warns Flicker.  “Whatever horrible monster that’s lurking in there and saw Ernie, now it’s waiting to pounce on whoever goes through next.”

Thus admonished, Morningstar pops into the storeroom Slice.  Her keen senses tell her that the room is large – certainly more than twenty feet on a side – and full of large stacked objects.   She pauses for a minute to listen; it’s perfectly silent.  Then she casts five _thought captures_.

Capture #1 is a thought of someone well and truly fed up with excessive manual labor.

Capture #2 is a clearer thought, that they really ought to procure a larger wheelbarrow.

Capture #3 is the most interesting.  Morningstar gleans a specific thought:  “I never want to be in the room again when those two get into a fight.  I thought that Clouds and Words were going to kill each other.”

Capture #4 is also specific, though more mundane:  “I’m not sure there are enough bricks left in this storeroom.”

Capture #5 is a general thought of pain, suffered by someone who has just pulled a muscle lifting something heavy.

Morningstar pops back out and shares the results with the others.  Some suspicions have now essentially been confirmed.  “Words” is almost certainly “Seven Dark Words,” whose home, according to the Eye Prophecy, is Het Branoi.  And given that “Clouds” is a person whom a) the Mad Sculptor holds in deep contempt, and b) apparently quarrels seriously with a person named “Words,” it is now clearer than ever that Seven Dark Words and the Mad Sculptor are the same person.   It’s not a huge surprise, but it’s always nice to have corroborating evidence.  

Snokas and One Certain Step agree to stand watch while the others go in to search the storeroom.  (That way, the party won’t be surprised by anything waiting outside when they return.)  Once inside the rest of the party breaks out lanterns and gives the place a thorough combing.

It’s a pretty large place – a 40’ x 50’ chamber supported by wooden columns every ten feet or so.  There are wooden crates, some large trunks, and piles of building materials including many black obsidian bricks, nearly identical to those used in the Mokad’s  ritual room back in Kallor.  Grey Wolf fires off a _detect magic_, and the only things registering are a dozen thin metal hoops, the size of hoola-hoops, glowing faintly with enchantment.  Flicker looks at them and declares in amazement they’re made of adamantium.

“Whoa.  It must have been a royal pain to make perfect hoops out of the stuff.  Seems like a waste.”

Aravis and Dranko launch into a brief digression about how, while these hoops might have no obvious use, it would be funny to “link” two of them together somehow.  Aravis suggests it could work with a careful use of _dimension door_. 

“This is what we’ve come to,” says Ernie.  “you guys are talking about using magic to do... to do magic tricks!”

“It doesn’t sound so wrong when you put it like that,” says Flicker.  

Most of the storeroom is filled with mundane building materials: planks, bricks, tools, slabs.  The most valuable item is a huge chest of perfect steel nails.  There’s also a crate full of green glass slabs (of varying sizes) of the same sort that were used in applications of stasis-magic, at the Black Circle bestiary visited by the Company years ago.  

While Flicker takes inventory, Dranko goes out to make sure Step and Snokas are all right.  Both of them are still standing an uneventful watch.

“You can come in if you want, and I’ll stand guard,” Dranko offers.

“No, no, it’s fine,” says Snokas.  “Really.  I’m having a lot of fun out here.”

Step stifles a laugh. 

“You know,” says Dranko just before he hops back through the Way,  “if you were being sarcastic, you just blew your chance.”  Snokas grins back at him.

Scree discovers that the Slice ends at the walls and floor, and that there are no secret or hidden doors out.  So, having discovered that there’s nothing of particular interest here, Dranko decides there’s only one thing left to do before leaving and trying the second Way.  

He spells out “Black Circle Suxks” (sic) on the floor with obsidian bricks.

Aravis shakes his head.  “It’s one thing to provoke the Black Circle.  It’s another to make them think we’re stupid.”

“It’s part of the plan to make them underestimate us,” says Flicker.

* *

Ernie again volunteers to be the scout.   Rope tied around his waist, he hops through.

His first impression is:  red.  The light is red.  The ground is a mars-like red stone.   The air _feels_ red.  Hot.  Dry.  Sulfurous.  The Abyssal nature makes his skin crawl.  The ground is pitted with shallow craters, varying is size from six inches to six feet in diameter.  A few dozen feet away is a small fissure in the ground, ten feet long and a foot wide.  

Ten seconds later he feels the tug and returns to the others.   

“It looks nasty,” he reports.  “Red rocks, red light.  Even with the protection spell up it felt warm, so it must be way over 100 degrees in there.   It still feels icky, though I didn’t see anyone.”

So everyone steps through the Way,  Dranko scooping up a last handful of snow as he leaves.   It starts to melt the moment he arrives.   Kibi arrives a few seconds later and is quicker on the draw; having grabbed his own snowball he throws a strike at Dranko’s face.  Dranko tries to return fire but his snowball has mostly melted and so is ineffectual.

Ah, the zany hijinks.  Pity that it gets interrupted by attacking demons.

...to be continued...


----------



## el-remmen

GET TO THE DEMON-FIGHTING, ALREADY!!!!!!  



_Please?_


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Good Fleshy post.  Not everything can be combat.

GW


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 231*_
*Okay, here’s your fight with demons already!*

Dranko glares at Kibi, wiping the snow from his face.  He thinks, “...as if it’s not bad enough that the dwarf managed such a lucky shot, _now_ Kibi is pulling the old ‘look over my shoulder in horror like there’s something behind me’ trick.  How gullible does he think...”

Then:  “say, why is _everyone_ looking at me like that?”

Behind Dranko an enormous demon has appeared.   It towers above him, a fifteen-foot-tall humanoid of horrific aspect.  Its torso and limbs are covered with mottled black and green scales, and its muscular arms end with oversized lobster claws.  Two smaller arms, more “human” looking save for the sharp claws, protrude from its chest.  Multifaceted insect-eyes bulge from a monstrous horned head.

At about the same time as its arrival, half the party starts to fall.  Upward.  Aravis, Grey Wolf, Snokas, Ernie and Morningstar are caught in a _reverse gravity_ (origin unknown) and plummet sixty feet into the air, bobbing against the sky when they reach the edge of its effect.   

A second demon appears near the first, human sized, with uniformly red skin that glistens sickeningly.  Its large hands have long taloned fingers.  A long horn juts straight from its forehead, and another protrudes from the back of its skull.  

Kibi’s eyes grow wide.   His mind races.  Does he remember rightly that creatures of the Lower Planes are often telepathic, and able to understand any intelligible language?

“We’re not very interesting,” he says, casting a _mass suggestion_.  "I suggest you just go away and leave us alone.”

The massive Glabrezu is unimpressed, but to the smaller Babau this makes perfect sense.   It blinks, nods, and turns to leave.  Partially satisfied, Kibi moves off to the side and out of “fireball formation” with the others.

Sixty feet up, the floating half of the Company takes stock.  Grey Wolf burns a charge from his _wand of flying_ before grabbing Aravis and preparing to land.  Aravis similarly casts _fly_ from a scroll, upon Snokas.  

On the ground, Flicker activates his _ring of blinking_ and like Kibi moves away to create spacing.  He’s already sizing up the hideous demon for sneak attacks – mostly an analysis of ankle-tendons, from where he’s standing.

A third demon appears, different in appearance from the first two but no less terrifying.   Shorter than the Glabrezu but taller than the Babau, it resembles a bony humanoid vulture with enormous talons.   “A Vrock,” thinks Aravis, looking down on the battlefield.  “This just gets better and better.”

So, where a few seconds ago Dranko was wiping snow from his brow, now all Abyss has broken loose, with Demons _teleporting_ in and half the party flung up and away.   He whips around to find the Glabrezu looming over him, snapping its huge crustacean claws.  He immediately activates his _sash of improved invisibility_ and moves into attacking position.   It’s unfortunate for him that the Glabrezu, like all demons of its kind, is possessed of _true seeing_.  

The monstrous demon leans over Dranko and a pair of enormous mandibles unfolds from its maw.  It seizes the half-orc in one of its lobster-hands, savages him with its remaining three claws, and chomps on him with the mandibles for good measure.  That’s the injury; the insult is that Dranko is now clamped firmly in the thing’s claw.   As he’s grappled by the Glabrezu, Dranko hears its deep telepathic voice in his head. 

“Mmmmmm.  Crunchy little man.”

Dranko answers, “Do you _like_ being trapped in here?”

“I do now,” replies the demon.

Morningstar doesn’t stay disoriented by the gravity reversal for long – the Chaos was worse.  She gets her bearings and casts _darkbeam_ at the Glabrezu, striking it square in the face.  But as Dranko discovered its _true seeing_ ability, now Morningstar learns of its spell resistance.  The _darkbeam_ dissipates harmlessly.   Snokas grunts in dismay, grabs Morningstar, and flies them both down to the ground.  

“If we rescue Dranko, we can flee,” says Aravis.  

“Kick... its... ass!” shouts Dranko, as the breath is squeezed out of him by the Glabrezu’s claw.  

But things just get worse.  Yet another creature _teleports_ into the battle.  This one is a huge arachnid, ten-feet high and just as broad, standing on six jointed legs.  The remaining two legs, serrated and glinting, are already poised to strike.  The whole creature seems to made of metal.   The beast is called a Retriever in Abyssal circles, and is not technically a demon, though this would be of little comfort to the party even if they knew.  It clacks its mandibles together ominously.  

Ernie looks down from above and sees that the Glabrezu has something invisible in one of its claws.  From the sound of the pained grunts, it’s probably Dranko.  He activates his _winged shield_ and flies down to help, staying (for now) just out of the huge demon’s reach.  Step (already on the ground) likewise closes with the Glabrezu.  The Babau turns and discovers the other demons aren’t following him.  It motions angrily and says something to them in a screechy high-pitched voice.  Why the others aren’t following the dwarf’s eminently sensible suggestion, he has no idea.  

And speaking of the dwarf, Kibi positions himself for a _lightning bolt_ and blasts the Glabrezu and the Vrock.  Aravis watches closely, thinking he remembers that demons are immune to electricity, but these take a moderate amount of damage from the blast.  Dranko, in the Glabrezu’s grip, manages to lift his legs and dodge the bolt, and shouts out a warning.  

“Hello!  Invisible half-orc here!”

“Maybe you should _tell_ us when you’re going invisible,” Kibi mutters.

Grey Wolf and Aravis land out of the demons’ reach, and hardly need to discuss the plan they both intend to execute.  Grey Wolf lays down the _ironstorm_, picking an ideal spot that encompasses all three of the demons (and hopefully not Dranko, held, they surmise, in the Glabrezu’s outstretched claw).  Aravis follows with the inevitable _chain lightning_, which gets sucked into the sphere of iron filings and fills the air with the smells of ozone and cooked demon.  The Glabrezu roars in pain and rage, while the Retriever shivers as electricity plays along its legs and body, setting its mandibles to an almost comical clatter.  

The Vrock seems entirely unaffected.   With a screech it takes a flying bound toward Morningstar, raking her with its talons.  Worse, its body puffs up and releases a cloud of noxious green gas flecked with particles of filth.  Both Morningstar and Snokas feel their skin start to sting and burn.  

Dranko desperately tries to wiggle free of the Glabrezu, but the demon’s grip is too tight.  Its cruel voice sounds again in his head. 

“Whatever’s the last thing you want to see in this life, you should look at it now.”

Backing out of the _ironstorm_, it squeezes with the grasping claw, and tears at Dranko’s body with the other three.  For good measure it sinks its teeth into the half-orc’s shoulder.   Somehow Dranko survives, though his blood is now pouring down the Glabrezu’s claw to soak the rocky ground.  Dranko goes limp, hoping the Glabrezu will think he’s dead, but the demon doesn’t buy it.

“Oh, I guess I killed the runt!” thinks the Glabrezu tauntingly via _telepathy_.  “I suppose I’ll just drop the body and turn my back on it!”

It leans over and leers at Dranko.

“Or not.”

Morningstar fires another _darkbeam_, this time at the menacing Vrock, but it shrugs off the effect as easily as it did the _chain lightning_.   Snokas leans in and drives one of his picks into the vulture-demon’s body, but the thing’s natural resistance prevents almost all the damage.   And it’s not bad enough that the beast is ignoring their attacks – green fungous growths start to sprout painfully on their skin.  The Vrock’s face twists in an evil grin, while the Retriever moves quickly out of the _ironstorm_.  

Ernie looks intently at the huge outstretched claw of the Glabrezu.  He can’t see Dranko, but he can see blood pouring out of the air in numerous places.  All he needs is to be sure...ah!  There!  A particularly well-defined stream of blood is drizzling from down low, probably Dranko’s lower leg or foot.  Ernie casts a quickened _heal_ from his _quickscroll tube_, leaps, and swipes at where he desperately hopes Dranko is.   His hand comes in contact with Dranko’s boot, which is enough.  Healing energy flows from him into Dranko, sealing his friend’s wounds and erasing his bruises.  Ernie follows up the spell by swinging _Beryn Sur_ but the blade is turned by the demon’s thick hide.   Step steps in and _smites_ with his own weapon, scoring the demon’s legs.  The Babau, completely fed up by now with his fellow demons’ failure to see reason, _teleports_ away.

Kibi nearly fires off another _lightning bolt_ before he remembers it will be drawn (now harmlessly) into the _ironstorm_.  Instead he tries to _hold_ the Vrock, but the demon resists.  Grey Wolf tosses a _fireball_ that’s barely more effective.  At Grey Wolf’s side, the longsword _Bostock_ speaks softly in his mind.

“You see?” says the sword eagerly.  “Spells are no good against them.  _I_, on the other hand, will be effective.  Wield me!”

Flicker has been _blinking_ in and out since putting on the magic ring.  It’s strange, he thinks idly.  Not only are those weird ethereal leeches nowhere to be seen, the entire place he goes when blinking seems to be different.  Darker.  Disturbing, even.  Aravis has told him he goes in and out of the Ethereal Plane when he wears the ring, but it’s always looked the same before today.   Now...

His mind, for whatever reason, refuses to think about it.   Instead he concentrates on the ankles of the Glabrezu, but his sword-attacks are ineffectual.  

“You all right Dranko?” shouts Aravis.

“He’s healthy as ever,” Ernie answers for him.  “I just gave him a _heal._”

“Then duck,” says Aravis.  He fires a _cone of cold_ at the Glabrezu, hoping Dranko can evade it.   It’s a vain hope.  The Glabrezu instinctively uses Dranko as a shield, and while it takes some significant damage, Dranko gets the full blast.   They both scream in pain.

The Vrock tears again at Morningstar, screeching and spluttering.  It bites deeply into Morningstar’s shoulder, and thinks “tasty!” to its victim.   Meanwhile the fungus continues to burst painfully from her arms, her neck, her face.  The stench of the spores reeks in her nostrils.  It may even be growing there.  

The Glabrezu looks down at the frozen Dranko.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who wants to kill you,” it thinks to him.  “Heh.  Heh, heh.”

“Oh, shut up,” replies Dranko.  “If you were a proper demon, you’d be tempting me instead of killing me.”

“That’s devils,” says the demon.

“Oh, you’re all the same thing,” says Dranko.

“Grrrraaarrrrrrrrrrrr!”

While the demon roars in rage, Dranko makes one last attempt to squirm free of the giant claw.  He’s slippery with ice, and the claw is slick with half-orc blood, and with a mighty twist of his body, Dranko slips from the Glabrezu’s grasp.  He lands on the ground.   The Glabrezu moves to grab him again, but thinks better.  Dranko’s not the problem.  That puny wizard is the problem.

“Excuse me for just a moment,” it thinks to Dranko.  Then it straightens up and targets Aravis with a _power word: stun_.  The powerful syllable rings loud in the air and Aravis feels the world go fuzzy.  

Having no luck with the _darkbeam_, Morningstar switches tactics slightly and tries casting _flame strike_ on the Vrock, but the demon’s constant lunges and feints prove too distracting.   Her attempt to cast defensively is thwarted and the spell fizzles.   Snokas again hammers the vulture-demon with his picks, but it’s just no good – he might as well be poking it with knitting needles for all the good he’s doing.  

On the other hand, the Retriever has no such problems.  While Snokas does resist a beam of white magic that shoots from its glowing eyes, he is shredded by its two serrated forelegs.  

The Glabrezu looks down with amusement; now that the human wizard in the silly hat is out of the combat, the rest should be easy.   It chuckles as Ernie’s swords bounce off its legs.  It smiles as Step fails to overcome its resistance to weapons.  And it barely blinks as Kibi pulls out a scroll and casts an ineffectual _cone of sound_.   

What finally gets its attention is the sound of its right ankle being sheared off by Flicker’s short-sword.  The blinking rogue has finally landed a pair of sneak attacks, having figured out through trial-and-error where the vulnerable tendons and sinews must be.   A shower of bone and ichor spews from the wound, and the Glabrezu slumps to the right, standing unsteadily on one foot and a stump.   Time to _teleport_ away, it thinks, if only it can buy just a few seconds more.   Dranko hears its voice in his head:  “I think we should call a truce.  I will agree to let you live.”

“You should never gloat before you’ve won,” says Dranko out loud.  He snaps his whip backward and then forward, lashing it around the huge demon’s left knee, and yanks back with all his might.  The Glabrezu tips backward and falls, bones jutting through its skin where Flicker carved it up.  It screams once more in pain before its head bounces hard off the rocky ground and it lies still. 

“Jackass,” adds Dranko, gloating.  

After that it’s just a matter of mopping up.    The Retriever is dispatched by a _flame strike_ from Ernie followed by a _coldfire_ from Kibi, which melt and fuse its entire back half before it can tear anyone to pieces.  And the Vrock, finding itself alone among enemies who somehow killed a Glabrezu, decides that discretion is the better part of eternal damnation and _teleports_ the heck out of there.   The caustic growths on Morningstar and Snokas continue to grow for about a minute before withering and falling off. 

At Dranko’s request, Step decapitates the dead Glabrezu.  You can never be too sure about these things.  

...to be continued...


----------



## Wolfspirit

Nice fight 

I'm half asleep, but you meant to say "no" instead of "now" in "“Spells are now good against them. I, on the other hand, will be effective. Wield me!”" right?


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro has an almost uncanny ability to balance combats such that we spend 2-4 rounds going "oh, crap, we're gonna die" and then something lucky or skillful or both turns the tide, and we end up panting and bleeding, but alive.  Dunno how he does it, but it makes our victories feel more victorious.


----------



## Pyske

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Good Fleshy post.  Not everything can be combat.
> 
> GW




Fights are OK, but I think I actually enjoy the RP in the story hour even more.

The again, it's always good to see some demons get their comeuppance.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

I dream of the day I can place a huge Glabrezu miniature on the battle mat, and not have the players all look at me like they know I'm kidding.

GW


----------



## Vargo

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Sagiro has an almost uncanny ability to balance combats such that we spend 2-4 rounds going "oh, crap, we're gonna die" and then something lucky or skillful or both turns the tide, and we end up panting and bleeding, but alive.  Dunno how he does it, but it makes our victories feel more victorious.




I had a GM like that in Torg, once.  Also, I kept reading the conversation between Dranko and his grappler, and wondering if somebody was going to sneak in a "Dranko is dead."  Guess not.


----------



## Piratecat

I dropped to single digit hit points before Ernie got that _heal_ in. . . and I still finished the fight with less than 20 hit points. This, considering that Dranko has far and away the most health of anyone in the party, over 130 at that point. That SOB picked me up and wouldn't let me go, and _there was nothing I could do about it._  Very scary.


----------



## el-remmen

Hooray!

Man, that battled turned quickly. . .  When the party formerly known as the Fearless Manticore Killers fought some powerful _half_-demon gnomes the combat took 40 rounds!


----------



## shilsen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> I dropped to single digit hit points before Ernie got that _heal_ in. . . and I still finished the fight with less than 20 hit points. This, considering that Dranko has far and away the most health of anyone in the party, over 130 at that point. That SOB picked me up and wouldn't let me go, and _there was nothing I could do about it._  Very scary.



 Yeah, Improved Grab is a killer, esp. with creatures that have grapple checks in the +30 range. Though personally I like glabrezu that start with a _confusion_ spell. Nothing's more fun than getting PCs to beat up on each other. 

And is it just me or did anyone else feel bad that there's now one less glabrezu with a mean sense of humor out there?


----------



## KidCthulhu

shilsen said:
			
		

> And is it just me or did anyone else feel bad that there's now one less glabrezu with a mean sense of humor out there?




It's just you.


----------



## RangerWickett

The demon told Dranko to look at the woman he loved, and what does he do?  He keeps fighting.  He's gonna be sleeping in the doghouse for that when he gets back to his home dimension, that's for sure.

*grin*

So, Sagiro, what are you up to aside from entertaining us with your storyhour?


----------



## Sagiro

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> So, Sagiro, what are you up to aside from entertaining us with your storyhour?



Well, at home I'm mostly taking care of my now 3-month-old daughter Elanor.  At work I recently finished working on the well-reviewed Freedom Force vs. The Third Reich, which you should all rush out and buy if you haven't already.    Now I'm working on a game with the working title of BioShock, though I'm not allowed to divulge any details at this time.

I've also found some time to play ultimate frisbee when the games aren't rained out.  And I've started running my D&D game again with some regularity; the Story Hour is approximately 10 months and 11 sessions behind "real life."  The Company has done some momentous things and made some startling discoveries since then!

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

Such as the discovery that [spoiler-person] is really [spoiler-other person], or the time when [spoiler-pc] was turned into a 



Spoiler



!

Mad-lib fun for everyone.


----------



## el-remmen

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Such as the discovery that _Snokas_ is really _Sagiro_, or the time when _Dranko _ was turned into a _pot-bellied pig_!




Wishful thinking on my part?


----------



## Seule

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Such as the discovery that Morningstar is really Dranko's wife, or the time when Dranko was turned into a good husband!




Okay, maybe that last bit is a little too far-fetched.

  --Seule


----------



## Spatzimaus

Such as the discovery that *Sagiro* is really *Abernathy's evil mirror image from an alternate timeline*, or the time when *Dranko* was turned into a *giant tongue*!


----------



## Aravis

Spatzimaus said:
			
		

> Such as the discovery that *Sagiro* is really *Abernathy's evil mirror image from an alternate timeline*, or the time when *Dranko* was turned into a *giant tongue*!




Interesting guess, but it was far more startling to find out that Dranko was in actuality the Emporer...Boy, did we all feel silly.   But you should have seen Kibi freak out when he turned him into an Orc.  Talk about self loathing.

-- Aravis


----------



## Sagiro

Spatzimaus said:
			
		

> Such as the discovery that *Sagiro* is really *Abernathy's evil mirror image from an alternate timeline*, or the time when *Dranko* was turned into a *giant tongue*!



Whoa.  While Dranko does not _actually_ get turned into a giant tongue, there's enough of a grain of truth in this prediction that it's creeping me out.  

You'll see why before too long.

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

I was thinking the same thing.  Then again, connecting Dranko & tongues isn't exactly the wackiest leap of faith ever made.


----------



## Sagiro

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> I was thinking the same thing.  Then again, connecting Dranko & tongues isn't exactly the wackiest leap of faith ever made.



Sure, though usually it's his _own_ tongue we're talking about.

Oops... I've said too much already.  

-Sagiro


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

You remember that picture of the Giant Frog from the old Monster Manual?  The one with the boot sticking out of his mouth?

I think that's Dranko's boot.


----------



## RangerWickett

Aravis said:
			
		

> Interesting guess, but it was far more startling to find out that Dranko was in actuality the Emporer...Boy, did we all feel silly.   But you should have seen Kibi freak out when he turned him into an Orc.  Talk about self loathing.
> 
> -- Aravis




In my home campaign, the half-orc Emperor Dranko Coaltongue led his armies to conquer the entire world, then became immortal, and was only defeated when he was betrayed by a close ally who was a half-orc mage.  Let's hope Kibi is as powerful and lucky.


----------



## shilsen

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> It's just you.



 I get that a lot. Then again, I gather so does Dranko, so I'm in good company. In a manner of speaking


----------



## Sagiro

A short update, before bed.


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 232*_
*Queylic*

Aravis regains clarity of mind soon after the end of the battle.  He leaps to his feet and looks around.

“What happened?”

Dranko looks down at the soaked ground.

“We drowned them in my blood,” he says ruefully.

“I didn’t think you _had_ that much blood,” says Aravis.

“We kept topping him off,” says Ernie.

“We should heal up and get the hell out of here,” suggests Grey Wolf.

“No objection here,” says Ernie.  He glances up nervously at a black speck high above – probably a bird. 

The clerics start healing everyone up, but before they finish a voice sounds telepathically in all of their heads (though no actual demon is in sight).  It’s a female voice – silky, a bit sultry, and obviously demonic.

“You live!” says the voice.  “Thank the pits!  I’m about to teleport to you, but don’t be alarmed.  I’m an envoy and an escort.  I have no wish to harm you.”

 “Uh huh,” thinks Dranko skeptically.

 “If there’s more than one of you,” answers Morningstar, “we’ll open fire.”

“Oh, I won’t be alone,” says the voice.  “But I _strongly_ suggest you take no hostile action.   Like I said, I have no wish to harm you, and I won’t attack you unprovoked, but I _don’t_ travel without my entourage.”

“Entourage?” says Grey Wolf softly to the others.  “We don’t have enough firepower left to take on an entourage.”

“Let me guess,” grumbles Ernie.  “She wants Kibi.”

“Who are you?” thinks Dranko.

“My name is Queylic,” says the voice in their heads. 

“_What_ are you?” prods Dranko.

“What do you _think_?” asks Queylic. 

“A fluffy bunny?” guesses Dranko.

“She’s a demon, for crying out loud,” interjects Aravis.  

“You should listen to your _intelligent_ friend,” says Queylic.

“You know, I’m liking you less and less,” says Dranko.   “’Cause, the implication is that I’m not.  Intelligent, I mean.”

“Did I imply that?” says Queylic, voice dripping with mock sincerity.  “I’m so sorry.”

“So, do we let ourselves be taken captive?” asks Morningstar.  “That’s obviously what we’re talking about here.”

“Well, we should hear what she has to say,” says Ernie.

“But then they’ll have Kibi,” says Morningstar.

“What choice do we have?” asks Dranko.

“Run away?” suggests Ernie.

“I think we should let ourselves be escorted, as long as they don’t’ take our stuff,” says Dranko.  “They might know something."

“Each group we talk to adds something new to our stock of information,” agrees Ernie.

“I’ll wait until you’re comfortable,” says Queylic.

One Certain Step makes a strange noise and becomes visibly tense.  Everyone turns to stare.

“I’m sorry.  She’s taunting me,” says Step grimly.  “She’s reading my mind and taunting me.”

“What did she say?” asks Dranko.

“I don’t wish to discuss it,” says Step curtly.  

“Leave our friend alone!” say Dranko, Ernie and Morningstar practically in chorus.

“You’re not helping your case,” adds Morningstar. 

Queylic laughs in their heads.

“Any chance I had of liking her, it just ended,” says Ernie angrily.

“Are you going to tell us what you want with us?” asks Morningstar wearily.

“I want to escort you, to see my master,” says Queylic.  “Lord Tapheon is his name.  He wishes to speak with you.”

“He can come to us then,” grumbles Dranko.

“No, I’m afraid not,” says Queylic.  “And this would be much more pleasant in person.”

“Why does this Lord Tapheon want us?” asks Ernie.

“That’s his business,” answers Queylic. 

“Does he have a cute little sculpture he wants to show us?” asks Ernie

“I don’t know, Ernest.  What do you think?”

Ernie doesn’t answer.  Everyone looks at one another nervously.  

“If we flee, she could follow us,” says Grey Wolf.  “And we’re hardly in a state to fight.”

They huddle and debate, wondering if Queylic has the means to listen in on their private conversation.  In the end they decide that while they’re willing to visit Lord Tapheon, they’ll do it at least partially on their own terms... by which they mean “have their spells back.”

“We’re somewhat... drained from our previous encounter,” thinks Morningstar to the female demon.

“Yes, I know.”

“Is that why you’re approaching us now?” asks Dranko.

“My reasons are more complicated,” says Queylic.

“Are you willing to allow us a day to rest, before we accompany you?” asks Morningstar.

“Ah, so you can regain your firepower?” asks Queylic rhetorically.   “It won’t do you any good, and it may tempt you into taking... unwise action.”

“Oh, we have enough firepower for that right now,” says Aravis.

“We don’t need _any_ firepower for that, really,” adds Morningstar.

“I’ll bet you’re hot,” thinks Dranko, out of the blue.  The others turn to stare at him.  Morningstar rolls her eyes.

“You’ll find out,” says the voice.

“Were you sent specifically to look for us?” asks Morningstar.

“Yes.  Yes I was,” answers Queylic.  Impatience is starting to creep into her voice.

“Stop that!” blurts Step, unaware that his hand has strayed to his sword.  He takes a deep breath.

“If you don’t want any ‘unwise’ actions,’ says Morningstar, putting a hand on Step’s shoulder, “you’re going about it the wrong way.  We told you to leave him alone.”

“I just wanted to see what he would do,” says Queylic innocently.  “He has remarkable self control.  But now that I’ve had a chance to reflect, I think I’d rather you come with me now.  If I give you a chance to rest, you might try working out some silly escape plan, and I’d have to hunt you down, and what a bother that would be.  As I said: Lord Tapheon assures me he means you no harm.”

Aravis guffaws.  “What part of ‘demons’ and ‘lying’ do you think we don’t understand?

“Let me try a simple cliché,” says Queylic.  “If we wished you harm, we would not be having this conversation.  But how about this.  If One Certain Step will promise, on his good soul, that you will not attempt to flee, and will come with us peacefully after a day, I’ll let you rest.”

“Don’t do it, Step,” warns Ernie.  “Don’t promise your soul anywhere near these creatures... for anything.”

“I will promise nothing,” says Step between clenched teeth.  

Aravis feels something probing his mind more deeply, a slithering foul mental presence trying to worm into his thoughts.  He concentrates and repels the attack.

“I’ve had it,” he says out loud.  With no warning to anyone, he jumps back through the Way into the frozen Slice.   The others watch him for a moment and immediately start to follow.

“Oh, bother,” says Queylic.  What she says afterward, no one hears.

As soon as Aravis sees a second person arrive, he jumps into the Way to the Black Circle storeroom and casts two _rope tricks_.  When the rest of the party arrives, he casts a _Leomund’s Secure Shelter_ so that the _rope trick_ spaces are inside it.  

“That’s to buy us some time, if it comes to it,” says Aravis.  “Grey Wolf, you can cast _Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion_ with the Cube, right?”

The party hastily stacks up some iron trunks, to block a _detect magic_ cast from the center of the room.  Behind them Grey Wolf creates the door to the _Mansion_, and they all jump in.

The central room is a large library, with a fireplace and many comfortable chairs and couches.  The Company sits and eats a magnificent meal around the fire, while _unseen servants_ bring the food in from the adjacent dining hall.  

“It _is_ nice for someone else to do the cooking, every once in a while” says Ernie, his feet up on an ottoman.   Their enjoyment of the meal is marred only by the constant expectation that at any moment the whole extradimensional space will be _dispelled_ from the outside.   But even if that happens, they won’t _really_ be any worse off than if they had just acceded to Queylic’s wishes.  

At least, that’s what they tell themselves, as they fall into uneasy sleep.


...to be continued...


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Sagiro said:
			
		

> A short update, before bed.
> 
> 
> _*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 232*_
> *Queylic*“Ah, so you can regain your firepower?” asks Queylic rhetorically.   “It won’t do you any good, and it may tempt you into taking... unwise action.”
> 
> “Oh, we have enough firepower for that right now,” says Aravis.
> 
> “We don’t need _any_ firepower for that, really,” adds Morningstar.
> 
> “I’ll bet you’re hot,” thinks Dranko, out of the blue.  The others turn to stare at him.  Morningstar rolls her eyes.




ROTFLOL (I could actually hear Kevin's voice as I read this.)

Dranko was never good at resisting temptation


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “I want to escort you, to see my master,” says Queylic.  “Lord Tapheon is his name.  He wishes to speak with you.”




And the crowd all goes "Boo, hissss!"


----------



## Micah

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “_What_ are you?” prods Dranko.
> 
> “What do you _think_?” asks Queylic.
> 
> “A fluffy bunny?” guesses Dranko.




It could have been worse. . . . He could have guessed a devil.


----------



## Piratecat

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> In my home campaign, the half-orc Emperor Dranko Coaltongue led his armies to conquer the entire world, then became immortal, and was only defeated when he was betrayed by a close ally who was a half-orc mage.




Are you paying attention to this, Sagiro? Take close notes! That Wickett guy knows what he's talking about. . . except for that whole "defeated" thing, which is only ugly gossip. Feel free to disregard that particular portion.

Please.


----------



## el-remmen

More Demony Goodness. . . Or Badness. . . Whatever, I love it. . .

Please, when might we expect some more, good sir?


----------



## MTR

Hmm.  Do I detect a bit of Sep style demoness there?  "Why yes, I am an evil monster.  But it's still in your best interest to do what I say."


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 233*_
*Worse than Hell*

The night passes without incident.   After a splendid breakfast they prepare spells and cast the usual battery of buffs.  

“So,” says Dranko.  “Who’s ready to be taken captive?”

“I hate it,” Morningstar complains.  “I hated it with the ogres.  I hated it with the orcs.  Hell, I hated  with the guards back in Tal Hae that one time.”

The Company is on high alert as they leave the _Mansion_, but no one is waiting to pounce out in the storeroom.  Aravis dismisses the _rope tricks_ and reclaims the ropes.  

Dranko goes first out of the Way, in case there’s an ambush.  And there is, sort of.   Nine little demons – Dretches – are standing around in the cold.  They spot Dranko and immediately start jabbering and pointing emphatically toward the Way back to Queylic.  None of them show signs of hostility.  When the rest come out, Grey Wolf looks down at the blubbery little creatures.  

“If this is Queylic’s entourage, I’m not impressed.”

Still expecting trouble the party hops through the Way into the next Demon Slice.   The bodies have been removed, though blood still stains the ground.  There are no demons, and no sign of Queylic.  

After about thirty seconds, Aravis shouts out, “We’re here!  Please, don’t make us wait.”

Queylic’s voice sounds in all of their heads.   “Oh.  Because _you_ didn’t make _me_ wait.  Have you freshened up?”

“Yes, we’re feeling much better, thank you,” says Aravis.  He starts to whistle.

“Such confidence,” remarks Queylic.

“No, I’m just in a good mood,” says Aravis.

“He beat me at cards last night,” says Dranko.

“And I’m sure that stretched his abilities,” says Queylic.  “But you’ll be happy to know that since you rested up, I decided to increase my retinue.”

“What, those little guys?” says Dranko, ignoring the jab.  “Yeah, they were cute.”

“The dretches?” says Queylic, amusement in her voice.  “Silly man.   Those weren’t my retinue.”

With that, demons start to _teleport_ in all around them.  There are four of the towering lobster-clawed Glabrezu, and eight vulturous Vrock, in addition to a host of over fifteen arachnid Bebiliths.   

Finally Queylic herself appears before them, nine feet in height.  From the waist down her body is that of an enormous green serpent.   From the waist up she is a unclothed female human with six arms.   Ernie turns red and casts his eyes downward. 

“Are you Queylic?” asks Dranko.

“Of course I am,” she replies smoothly.  

“How do you pee?” asks Dranko.

Ernie makes a choking noise, but Queylic is unfazed by the question.

“Would you like to find out?” she says softly.  “Come here...”

“Er... I’ll pass this time,” says Dranko, backtracking.

“Ernest!” says Queylic happily.  “Such modesty.   I don’t mind if you want to gaze upon my form.  But surely you’ve seen... no, no you haven’t, have you?  How delightful!”

She turns to One Certain Step.  “Ah, there you are.  Still thinking about my offer, holy warrior?”

“No,” says Step.  “I stopped thinking about it less than five seconds after you made it.”

“What was the offer?” asks Dranko.

“That is a private matter, between the two of us,” says Queylic.  Step looks grim and says nothing.

“Say, can you settle a bet?” asks Dranko.  “Aren’t Hell and the Abyss the same thing?”

Queylic regards him with an indulgent smile.  “Are you really that much of an id... no, never mind,  Of course you’re an idiot.  And no, they’re not the same thing.”

“Crap,” says Dranko.  “Really?”

“And you made a _bet_ about that?  What is a being as stupid as you doing making monetary wagers on matters of intellect?”

“Because I have money!” says Dranko.

“In his view,” says Aravis, “It’s not a matter of intellect.  It’s a matter of theology.”

“Ah, yes, right.  He worships a God of Healing.  What’s his name?”

“Delioch,” says Dranko.  “Would you like to worship him?”

“Yes, he sounds wonderful!” Queylic squeals.

“’Cause if I convert you, that would so be a feather in my cap,” says Dranko.

“Dranko?” whispers Aravis.  “Sarcasm.”

“Please tell me more about Delioch while we travel,” says Queylic.  “I want to consider converting.”

It’s a surreal conversation with no obvious purpose.  On the surface Dranko is trying to make Queylic underestimate him, but deep down he knows the demon is not being fooled at all.  And Queylic keeps asking questions and pretending to be interested, even though _she_ knows that Dranko can’t possibly think she’s serious.  But Dranko has his reasons, and whether the demon guesses them or not, he is satisfied.

The cavalcade of demons surrounds the Company as they walk across the cracked red ground of the Abyss.  The demons themselves are quiet for the most part, listening curiously to the banter between Queylic and Dranko.  When that discussion starts to sputter, Dranko turns to Morningstar and asks, “So, what do you think?  Is this better or worse than the Mouth of Nahalm?”

“This is worse,” says Morningstar without hesitating.

“Watch out!” says Queylic, putting an arm across Dranko’s chest.  “Dranko, watch where you’re stepping!”

Dranko looks down and sees he was about to step into a small fissure while turned toward his fiancée.

“You don’t want to die here,” advises Queylic with a grin.

“We probably don’t,” agrees Dranko.  “Hey, I think Delioch is getting through to you.  You just performed an... an anti-sin!”

“Lord Tapheon prefers that you arrive intact,” says Queylic.  “But if I have committed an ‘anti-sin' I suppose I’ll have to sin twice to make up for it.” 

“But if she worships something evil,” says Ernie, a puzzled look on his face, “isn’t doing evil good for her, and doing good is evil?”

“Ooooh, I think you’re right,” says Dranko.  Then, to Queylic: “I take it back.  By doing good, you actually sinned!”

“I did?” says Queylic, aghast.  “Dranko, quick!  Have Delioch save my soul!”

“It’s not too late,” says Dranko sagely.  “Here, bend down in front of me.”

“Oh!” says Queylic, with a knowing nod.  “He’s _that_ kind of God.  Sorry, we already have one of those.”

“Perhaps I should stop sassing the demon,” says Dranko.  “It’s probably bad for my health.”

“I’ll bet you don’t get many opportunities to sass demons,” says Queylic.

“On the contrary.  I ‘sass the demon’ all the time, if you catch my drift.

Queylic thinks to everyone:  “Does he often make comments like...”

There’s a resounding “yes!” from pretty much everyone.

“You must make a lovely traveling companion,” says Queylic to Dranko.

Strangely, no one comes to his defense on that one.

“You want a cigar?” Dranko asks her, filling the silence.

“No, I don’t smoke,” answers Queylic. “Only my victims.”

“What about Lord Tapheon?” asks Dranko.  “Does he smoke?”

“Lord Tapheon is... beyond you,” says Queylic.


* *

Two hours after entering the Slice, the Company and their escort of demons arrives at another blue Way.  They can see from a distance that there’s something different about this one, and up close they see that while most Ways are rigid, this one is rippling, like there’s a vacuum on the other side, pulling at the fabric of the Way itself.

“Why’s it doing that?” asks Dranko.

“It’s a side-effect of Tapheon’s power,” says Queylic simply.

“He sucks that hard, huh?” pipes up Ernie in the back.

Queylic turns to face the group, and her expression grows stern.

“I’m going to do you a favor, and give you some advice,” she says.  “I enjoy this witty repartee.  Lord Tapheon has less patience than I do.  I would be most careful how you ‘sass the demon’ in his presence.”

“Gotcha,” says Dranko.  “But I have one more question.  What do we call you?  Besides your real name, I mean.”

“I don’t understand,” says Queylic.

“Let’s pretend I’m going to survive all this,” says Dranko.  “And someday I go home, and get someone to buy me dinner by telling them that once I exchanged witty repartee with a ten-foot-tall bare-chested snake demon lady.  What do I call you?”

Queylic slithers closer to Dranko and smiles.

“Such bravado.  It’s delicious,” she says softly, running a red tongue over her lips.  She leans forward until her mouth is right next to Dranko’s cheek, and he can feel her hot breath on his face.

“I’m a Marilith,” she whispers, and licks the side of his head.  The others flinch in disgust.

“Remember, you’re spoken for,” says Aravis.

Queylic straightens up, while Dranko turns to Morningstar and asks, “Have you ever told me not to get licked by a demon?  I can’t remember.”

Morningstar shakes her head.  Queylic turns on her in disbelief.

“Are you married to this dolt?  On purpose?  Did you lose a bet?”

Morningstar smiles.  

“Does it bother you?” Queylic asks her quietly,  “that he lusts after other women _all the time?_”

“Not particularly,” says Morningstar.

“Well, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.  He’s not much to look at, and he’s not very smart.  Ah, the long nights on the road must just fly by, with stimulating intellectual conversation full of euphemisms for masturbation.   On the other hand,” she says, turning to Dranko while Ernie flushes red, “no one can be as stupid as he’s pretending to be and have gotten so far in life.

“My instructions,” she continues, “are to see that you walk through this portal.   On the other side you’ll meet Trugoth.  He’ll be taking custody of you once you go through the Way.”

“Don’t you see?” says Aravis to the others.  “She’s not powerful enough to appear in front of Lord Tapheon.  So she’s giving us to someone who is.”

“Maybe it’s time we stop annoying the demon,” whispers Morningstar.

“Don’t be concerned,” says Queylic.  “I’ve been baited by far better than you.”

The Marilith slithers back a few dozen feet, and gestures toward the rippling Way.  

“In you go,” she commands.

As the Company steps forward to enter, Dranko whispers to Step, “I tried to distract her for you, so she’d leave you alone.  I hope it worked.”

“I suspect it did,” says the paladin.  “Thank you.”

And through they all go.


* *


The next Demon Slice glows red with malice.  Where the previous Slice was like a Martian landscape, this one has the ambiance, if not the heat and flames, of the Elemental Plane of Fire.  The ground looks like orange sand that has congealed into a solid.  The air is sharp with a hot sulfurous stink and olfactory overtones of things far worse.  The sky is a pulsing, blazing crimson.  And the ever-present vile nature of the Abyss lies unseen upon them all like a cloak of grief.  

Before them stands Trugoth, a mighty Balor of The Abyss, twenty-five feet tall and wreathed in flame.  Huge bat wings rise from his back, and he holds a flaming serrated sword, larger than a man.  Around him are a number of lesser demons – more Vrocks and Glabrezu, mostly.   

And when the Company is able to tear their eyes from this gigantic demon, they see something that is perhaps worse.  The ground around them is scattered with long iron stakes, and on each of these is impaled an upside-down body.  Many of these twitch and moan.  The sounds of these tortured souls mixes with the sighing, swirling wind.  Step’s clenched fists go white.  

“I hate it here,” says Ernie in a very small voice.

“What did you expect?” asks Dranko.  “This is the place where evil people go to get punished.”

In all of their heads Trugoth voice sounds deep and resonant.

“Follow me.”

They do.  It’s a sickening journey.

Evil beats down on them like a hot sun, and the smell grows ever worse.  The frequency and density of the staked damned souls rise as the hours pass, as do their plaintive shrieks and piteous moans.   When it seems that things can’t get any worse, Trugoth brings them to a bridge over a thirty-foot river.   The bridge is made of human thighbones,  and it spans a thick white flow of boiling pus.   Trugoth crosses the bridge in four long strides, while the rest of the demons form up behind the Company, leaving them no choice but to cross.   Dranko can’t help himself, and looks over the edge to see if anything swims in that river.   A bubble of pus pops and splatters by his face, and the smell brings bile into his mouth.

Half an hour after the river of pus, Trugoth again brings the party to a halt.  

“Hungry?” says his voice in their minds.  “I understand that living mortals need to eat.”

Strangely, the Company has no appetite. 

“We’re not hungry,” says Grey Wolf.  “Really.”

They do stop and drink some water from their skins.  The demons mill about restlessly, and one of the Vrocks stretches out its neck and takes a savage bite from a staked body.    It groans and writhes on its spike as the demon chews.  Step has gone as pale as a ghost.

“What really bothers me,” says Dranko, “is that when they told us in church that places like this existed, I laughed at them.  And I hate apologizing to people.”

Flicker turns to Morningstar and asks only half-jokingly, “Can you erase our memories of this once we’re done?”

Grey Wolf hears the sword _Bostock_ whisper in his mind:  “We should stay here no longer than is necessary.”  Which is heartening, both because it speaks well of the sword, and because it reminds Grey Wolf that if he keeps his hand on the sword’s grip, he won’t have to breathe the foul air.

The Balor Trugoth leans over and looks directly down at Kibi.  Then he turns and for another moment stares intently at One Certain Step.

“You two don’t look that important.,” he rumbles.  “Hm.”  He laughs deeply, then says again,  “Follow.”

Ernie puts his hand on Step’s arm, and tries to distract the paladin by asking him stories about his childhood.  For a while the two of them share memories of happier times and places, while the horrors around them grow worse.  They cross three more rivers of festering fluids, and the impaled bodies of the damned grow so thick that they have to wend their way through them like they were trees in a forest.   After more hours of this nightmare, the Fortress comes into view.

It is a great metal cube, a quarter-mile on a side, hovering a hundred feet in the air.  It is tethered to the ground by dozens of colossal chains, each link of which is the size of a wagon.   The Fortress itself seems to strain at those bonds, as if despite its great mass it would fall into the sky were it not anchored to the rock.  The chains are welded to enormous adamant disks set deep in the ground.  

Trugoth speaks to them, gloatingly. 

“Behold, the Fortress of Indifference.  Lord Tapheon awaits.”

... to be continued...


----------



## RangerWickett

You seem to make this typo relatively often:



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> Then he turns and for another moment stares intently at Once Certain Step.


----------



## Sagiro

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> You seem to make this typo relatively often:



And people never hesitate to point it out.     The latest one is fixed now.

I think it's because I anticipate the "C" in "Certain" while I'm typing "One."

-Sagiro


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

More Baddies, and hints at directions to come.

Thank you,
GW


----------



## Jackylhunter

> Trugoth speaks to them, gloatingly.
> 
> “Behold, the Fortress of Indifference.  Lord Tapheon awaits.”




...Dum duM DUM...

Very cool!!!  

...and well done Pkitty, distracting the demoness from tormenting Step.  It'll be nice when you guys can come back and Kill her...=)


----------



## Spatzimaus

At least from the way Sagiro described it, with THIS Marilith you won't get a repeat of the "We've got your bra!" scene.  Probably better that way.


----------



## Enkhidu

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> You seem to make this typo relatively often:




Will it still be a typo after Step dies?


----------



## LightPhoenix

Enkhidu said:
			
		

> Will it still be a typo after Step dies?




I prefer cloning him, so then he'd be Twice Certain Step.


----------



## Enkhidu

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> I prefer cloning him, so then he'd be Twice Certain Step.




So what you're saying is that Step actually comes from Alpha Comlplex?

All Hail the Computer! The Computer is your friend!


----------



## shilsen

Very cool update, as usual. Sounds like you had fun describing the Abyss. I've run a couple of sessions there (not recently) and it always makes me more creative and my descriptions more vivid. My players at the time had a theory about that which included the concept of "home turf"


----------



## el-remmen

This is some sick ****!  I am loving it!   

More please!


----------



## KidCthulhu

Notice how many times he mentions the River of Pus.  That's quality ook factor here, people.

It was even ookier in person.  blech.


----------



## StevenAC

Yay, great to see regular updates have been resumed!

First of all, a (hopelessly belated, I know) congratulations on the birth of your daughter, Sagiro!

Speaking of updates, I have finally (after more than a year!) updated the Sagiro's Collected Story Hour website, adding another two chapters, which take the story up to just before the Company headed into their current demon-infested (or is it devil-infested? ) predicament.  That's almost another 100 pages, meaning the site now contains over 550 pages in total of Sagiro-y goodness, with still more to come...  

Also, please note that the Collected Story Hour has now moved to a new location, here (or just click the link in my signature).  Sagiro, you might want to update the link at the start of this thread at some stage.

Can't wait to find out what happens to the Company in the "Fortress of Indifference" -- sounds decidedly ominous...


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

I don't know about anyone else, but I appreciate that you have done this. 
Thank you,
GW


----------



## Dawn

I too will thank you for collecting and compiling these into one nice location.


----------



## Sagiro

StevenAC, that's awesome!  I'm still extremely grateful for your wonderful compilation, with all its excellent visual touches.  (Like the sSSsssS's in Srapa's speech.  Cool!)

I hope to get to the Fortress of Indifference before too long -- I'll probably post another update in the next few days, but I make no promises.   We play tonight, and it's possible the party will get a small payoff for something I set up almost 170 runs ago!   It's also possible that they'll fight a [redacted], but who can say?

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> We play tonight, and it's possible the party will get a small payoff for something I set up almost 170 runs ago!




You mean Xp?  (One of the only benefits to the infrequency with which we play Sagiro's game is the fact that we can whine and complain that "It's been _months_ since we got xp." and be entirely accurate.)


----------



## Sagiro

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> You mean Xp?  (One of the only benefits to the infrequency with which we play Sagiro's game is the fact that we can whine and complain that "It's been _months_ since we got xp." and be entirely accurate.)



That's not what I meant, but now that you mention it, yes, you will get XP tonight.  And the whopping story award from having successfully [lots of details redacted] gives everyone enough XP to level up.  Woo hoo!

-Sagiro

p.s. You _did_ just level up only 7 runs ago, you know.


----------



## Len

Sagiro said:
			
		

> It's also possible that they'll fight a [redacted], but who can say?



We fought a redacted once. It kicked our butts.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 234*_
*Professional Jealousy*


Over the plains of the Abyss rolls the thundering sound of gears and chains.   

As the Company approaches Tapheon’s Fortress, still an hour or more away despite its massive presence in the sky, a huge iron ramp is being lowered like a drawbridge from the side of the great metal cube.   A hundred yards long and thirty yards wide, the ramp bridges a moat of boiling white pus surrounding the anchor discs that hold the Fortress in place.  After a long march through a last forest of gasping damned, Trugoth strides up the ramp and motions for the party to follow.

At the top of the ramp (and it’s no easy climb, pitched steeply as it is) a pair of forty-foot-high iron doors has swung inward for the Balor, and the Company crosses into an enormous cubic “foyer.”  Once inside, the oppressive weight of the Abyss becomes even more intense, more spirit-crushing. 

The party now stands in a featureless iron room a hundred feet on a side, with doors lining the three inward-facing walls.  There are fifty-seven of these doors, nineteen per wall, each thirty feet tall.  Trugoth waves his arm and one of the inner doors, seeming no different from any of the others, swings open to reveal a straight, dark corridor.

“In there,” booms Trugoth.  “You will come to a red circle.  Step into it.  It will take you to your quarters.  Lord Tapheon will send for you.  Understood?

They nod.  

“Can we keep our belongings?” asks Dranko.

“Of course,” says Trugoth, smiling.

“The theory being, it won’t make any difference,” Dranko mutters.

“Lord Tapheon will be eager to speak with you I’m sure,” says Trugoth.  “You are his honored guests.  Now.  You have those among you who can see in the dark?  Follow them, then.  No.  Lights.  But your quarters you will find most comfortable.”

The Balor turns to leave, but checks himself and faces the party one more time.  

“Did Queylic give you any advice?” he asks.

“She advised us not to get sassy with Lord Tapheon,” says Dranko.

“Ignore her,” says Trugoth, showing jagged teeth in an evil grin.  “The Lord loves a good joke at his own expense.”

Dranko takes out a rope and pays it out so everyone can stay together.  He goes in the front of the line, with Morningstar at the back and Kibi in the middle.  They move into the corridor, which to Dranko’s eyes is a flat-black iron, straight as an arrow, and at least as long as his vision extends.  It’s wide, and high, and like everything else here it reeks of evil.  Once they are all through the door it clangs shut behind them, leaving them in complete darkness.  

For an indeterminate time, they walk.  Ernie, feeling like he has to do _something_, starts to sing, and for a while the sound of his voice echoes up and down the metal hallway.  But after a while Dranko starts to notice that there are doors set into the walls of the corridor, and from behind these doors come shrieks of pain and horror that mix gruesomely with Ernie’s music.  

“I’m officially not indifferent,” says Dranko under his breath,

Ernie stops singing at one particularly loud scream.

“And this is officially the worst place we’ve ever been,” says the halfling.

“I think I came to that conclusion by the first river of boiling pus,” says Dranko.

Morningstar begins to murmur a prayer, one of the first taught to neophytes of her church, about how the darkness is neither good nor evil by its nature.   Step wonders to himself if this is the “lightless room” where he is doomed to die, but it doesn’t feel right, and he is not ready.

Dranko steps in something sticky and leaps back instinctively.  A dark liquid is oozing out from under one of the doors; he directs the others to avoid it and doesn’t look too closely himself.   When the Company is starting to reach the point of exhaustion they see up ahead a red light glowing in the darkness.  A minute later they are upon it – a circle of red light on the ground, ten feet around.  Without hesitation or discussion they step into it.

* *

The Abyss vanishes.

Well, no, that’s not technically true, but for a moment it seems that way.  For starters, the oppressive soul-crushing nature of the Abyss is conspicuously absent.  What’s more, the Company is standing in the corner of a large room, bright with a pleasing ambient glow, and smelling of a light, pleasant perfume reminiscent of a spring day.   There is also the smell of good food, the source of which is a table heaped high with meats, fruits, cheeses and bread.  Against one wall is a wine fountain and nine crystal goblets.   Arranged tastefully around the room are numerous comfortable-looking sofas, chairs, and ottomans.  And there are nine doors out of the room, standing open.  From where they stand, the Company can see that each leads to a small but finely-appointed bedroom.  

Oh, yes, there’s one more thing.  Lounging around the room in the chairs and sofas are a dozen extremely attractive women, who can only barely be thought of as “dressed.”   Some are drinking wine from goblets, some are eating daintily, and most are whispering softly to one another behind perfectly-manicured hands.

Aravis, exhausted, doesn’t give them a thought.  He immediately lies down on a sofa, at the far end from one of the women.  He curls up into a ball facing inward and closes his eyes tightly.  Even so, one of the women sidles up to him and runs a hand through his hair.

“You’ve had a hard day, haven’t you?” she asks in a sweet, beautiful voice  “Do you want me to rub your back?”

“No,” says Aravis curtly.

“Are you sure?” she asks, voice full of obvious concern for his happiness.

“Yes.”

“Would you like me to rub anything else?” she asks, a faint mischievous smile showing on her red lips.

Aravis shuts his eyes tighter.

The other women in the room, one at a time, have come to rest their eyes on Morningstar.    Their expressions are hard to read: puzzlement?  Annoyance?  Curiosity?

“Can I help you?” asks Morningstar, staring levelly back at one of them.

“They’re not all yours, are they?” asks one of the women, in a tone of mild disbelief.

“In a sense, yes,” says Morningstar with a wry smile.

“Impressive,” says another of the women, nodding.   Then, to the whole Company, she speaks while gesturing at the table of food.  “Thirsty?  Hungry?  The food and drink are yours to enjoy.  As are we.”

One of them stands from her chair and walks toward Ernie.  He’s not exactly sure when she changed, or if she looked like that from the start, but she’s a cute, plump halfling girl, apple-cheeked and smiling shyly.

“Please don’t do that,” says Ernie.

“Why not?” asks the girl, pouting prettily.

“It’s very disturbing and I’m not interested.  And neither is Flicker!” 

Not that Flicker was starting to stare, or anything.

“You know she’s not real,” whispers Ernie to Flicker.

“Looks real,” remarks Flicker.

“Do you want to leave your soul here?” whispers Ernie, a little more loudly.

Dranko clears his throat.

“Can I confess a fantasy of mine?” he says loudly.    

“You don’t have to confess it,” says one of the women.  “You can act it out.”

“I’ve always wanted to be with a woman with a crooked nose and spots and bucked teeth,” says Dranko with as straight a face as he can manage.  “I know it’s wrong, but it’s what I always wanted.”

The woman laughs, clearly seeing through his game.  But she asks anyway, “Do you prefer orcish or human?”

Dranko gestures to Morningstar.  “Actually, I prefer her.  I’m afraid I’m not interested.  You couldn’t match her, so don’t even try.  You’re outgunned.”

Some of the women look at Morningstar and giggle.  

“We’re not here to compel you,” says another of the women.  “But we are all here for your pleasure.  And understand... I don’t know how old she is, but we’ve been practicing our art for thousands of years.  If you’d like, she can join us, and probably learn some things.”

“Slut,” says Dranko.

“Flatterer,” answers the woman.

“Did you say ‘practicing?’” says Ernie.  “All those years and you still can’t do it right?”

“Oh, Ernest,” says the halfling woman, giggling in a fetching manner. 

Ernie frowns and turns his back on her, and almost immediately feels soft hands rubbing his neck.

“Stop that!” shouts Ernie,

“But why?” asks the girl. “You’re so tense.”

“I don’t want you touching me!”

Dranko claps.  “All demons, stand up!”

They all look, but none stand.

“I’m sure all of you are trying your best to be exactly what we want the most,” says Dranko.  “But you’re out of luck.”

Then one of them does stand, and walks toward Dranko.   He didn’t notice when she changed, but now she looks just like Morningstar, only... enhanced.  More traditionally beautiful, and with none of Morningstar’s physical flaws.  

“Oh, this is no good,” mutters Grey Wolf.

“We’re not interested,” insists Dranko.  

“What we’d really like is to be left alone tonight,” adds Morningstar.

“Actually,” says Dranko, “We’ll be having a group prayer session in a few minutes, if you’d like to join in.  We’ll be singing hymns, telling sermons, passing around holy water and symbols, and praying.  You’re more than welcome.”

“You’re going to pray to your own gods?  Here?” says the other Morningstar, raising a perfect eyebrow.   “Interesting.  Can we watch?”

”Tell you what,” says Dranko.  “I’ll spray some holy water on you, and if you like it, you can stay and watch.”

“You think your water is still holy here?” says the woman.  “You don’t understand Lord Tapheon very well, do you?”

The halfling woman scoops up some of the fruits from the table, then turns again to Ernie. 

“Ernest, do you think we could make this into a pie?”

“I could,” says Ernie, “but you couldn’t.”

“I know I’m not as good a cook as you are.  Maybe you could... teach me some things?”

“You don’t understand,” says Ernie, his voice breaking.  “I’m sorry.”  He stalks into one of the rooms, closes the door, drops to his knees, and prays.

“Look,” says Dranko.  “You’re here to satisfy our every desire, right?  We desire that you leave us alone and let us get some sleep.”

Morningstar turns to Dranko with a grateful smile.  “I love you,” she says.

“I love you too,” says Dranko.

The woman who looks like Morningstar walks slowly to the real one.

“How do you _do_ it?” she asks.  “You have them all whipped like dogs.  Especially that one,” she adds, pointing at Dranko.

Morningstar just shrugs, but she finally figures out the expression these creatures have when eyeing her.  It’s professional jealousy.  

The party spends a few minutes dragging some beds from room to room.  While they can’t all fit into one of the bedrooms, they arrange to sleep in just two of them, for more security.   Only Aravis stays outside, still curled up on the couch.  

“I told you mortals were boring,” says one of the women, yawning.

“Not all mortals,” says another.  “But these are lame.”

Not one member of the Company eats any of the food or drinks any of the wine.  

The party sleeps.  Aravis is woken briefly by the sound of Pewter hissing.  One of the women has flopped down on his sofa and had sidled up to him.  Faced with Pewter’s bared teeth and arched back, she’s sidling away again.  Aravis smiles and goes back to sleep.

On Grey Wolf’s watch, one of the woman opens the door to his room and pokes her head in.  Two more do the same.

“Let me invite you to shut the door and leave,” says Grey Wolf flatly.

“See,” says one of the women.  “I told you they didn’t sleep in the nude.” 

They shut the door.

Finally, Morningstar visits all of their dreams, sliding them away from their fears and worries, soothing their troubled minds.  She leaves them each secure that their sleep is guarded.   It’s a rare thing indeed for mortals to slumber soundly in the Fortress of Indifference, but with Morningstar’s help, they manage. 

...to be continued...


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Am I the only one who notices that Sagiro seems to post updates after 2am now that he has a child?


----------



## Micah

Nice update. The surroundings are quite threatening, very well executed. I think the name of the place alone makes it formidable, add to that some superlative description and you've painted a picture for sure.

It's updates like this one when you realize that Abernathy's Company is more than just adventurers - they fall into that bright category that my five-year old considers "the good guys". From an adult perspective it means that they can be tempted, but they're fighting it tooth and nail.

Thanks, and as always - looking forward to more.


----------



## Pyske

MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> Am I the only one who notices that Sagiro seems to post updates after 2am now that he has a child?



Dude, I'm just happy he still posts them at all.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Fantastic update!! I can't wait to see what Tapheon wants.  And what happend to Kibi, did he get a hawt Dwarven lass, or a pretty peice of rock??  

Keep up the good work.


----------



## Dawn

MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> Am I the only one who notices that Sagiro seems to post updates after 2am now that he has a child?




Interesting thing to note.  

I'm just happy to have the updates.

Must have been funny to listen to Sagiro making those "invitations".  Were they done “in character”?  Not sure I could have maintained a straight face.  Really great come-backs from the players however.   Just goes to show how fun good role-playing can be.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 235*_
*Lord Tapheon*

Aravis wakes, slides off the couch, and joins the others in the bedrooms without so much as a glance at the lounging succubae.   Despite an overwhelming hope that combat will not be necessary in the coming hours, the adventurers cast the usual set of protections spells for the day.  They are not long finished when a succubus pokes her head into one of the rooms and says sulkily, “Are you almost ready?  Lord Tapheon wishes to speak with you.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him how you all failed,” says Dranko, looking serious.  “You might have succeeded, but you’re just not sexy enough.  You’re no Morningstar, that’s for sure.”

Ernie kicks Dranko in the shins, but the succubus smiles.

“Of course.  No doubt we’ll be _cruelly_ punished.”

The Company finds a red circle glowing in the corner of the room.  One succubus points and nods her head.  There’s no question about what is expected, and it’s still disturbing that no one has bothered to divest them of a single weapon or magic item.  As a group they walk into the teleportation circle...


* * 

Lord Tapheon was the uncontested ruler of the 348th layer of the Abyss.  He might be the ruler still, but, maddeningly for him, there’s no way to be sure.  It’s been so long since he was actually _there._

The game of politics in the Abyss is played on a shifting board of violence and deception.  At times the moves are made with slow deliberation, at others they come furiously fast.  Tapheon has weathered numerous assaults on the Fortress of Indifference, mostly assayed by lesser powers of the demon realms.  (Though once, centuries ago, an invading army of Vrock and Hezrou, led by a quartet of Marilith generals and the Balor Caikol,  managed to fight its way to the inner chambers of the Fortress.  Tapheon suspects, but could never prove, that it had been sent by no lesser a Demon Lord than Demogorgon himself.  But Trugoth, always loyal (given Demonic norms for treachery and power-grabbing), slew Caikol before the throne of the Fortress, and the invasion force was broken.)  

Tapheon sits on his throne and frowns.  This... place... has tested him as much as Abyssal intrigue ever has.   The sliver of the Abyss in which he is trapped measures less than forty miles on a side and is home to fewer than ten thousand demons.   He knows its bounds to the inch.  From within his throne room, the heart of his power, he has sent his mind wandering far, and learned many things.  

He knows that while the Slices seem largely of random selection and haphazard placement, there is a concentration of Abyssal cells that is not accidental.    He knows the exact location and destination of every Way into and out of the demon-lands.  He knows that his power grows weak the farther afield he goes from the Fortress of Indifference.   And he knows all the players who are the vital pieces on the board.  The end game is fast approaching.  

For Lord Tapheon is certain that in all of this web of carved-away cells, he is _nearly_ the most powerful being alive.  Dozens of Slices away there is a living tree that feeds a thousand worlds when not kidnapped and stranded.  There is a nascent God of Chaos not far off, with concerns of its own and heedless of what lies outside its own demesne.  His guests currently resting in the Fortress have two sources of untapped power with such potential that it terrifies him to have them so close.  But greatest of all is the one with whom he has striven directly, the key to his freedom from this prison of planes.  Hot and angry have been his psychic battles, his vain attempts to conquer this being by force of will.   But there is no victory there; this enemy wields the same mighty forces that tie the Slices themselves together.  He must effect his escape by proxy.  

Now there is only this one final interview.   Tapheon knows the warnings he must give, the offers he’ll make, and the promises he hopes to exact.  Not that he’s likely to get everything he wants; these mortals are weak but not foolish, and it will be impossible to explain what needs explaining without them coming to understand the leverage they wield.   No, as long as the paladin plays his part, this meeting will be a success.  Oh, and also as long as Kibilhathur Bimson doesn’t figure out how to obliterate him.  


* *

The Company is _teleported_ into a large cubic room, a hundred feet on a side.   Its grilled meshwork walls and ceiling are filled with a mortar of smashed, writhing bodies, maybe structural, perhaps simply aesthetic.  From these emanates a faint chill of the negative material plane.  

The whole of this chamber is lit by a dim sourceless glow, but all eyes are drawn to the throne and the beings who stand in front of it.  The throne is a serrated latticework, a sharp-edged iron jumble whose gaps are filled with groaning bodies.   Around this seat of pain are a half-dozen succubae in their natural forms, voluptuous women with bat wings rising from their backs and sharp fangs in their cruel mouths.   They eye the Company hungrily.  

In the throne itself sits Lord Tapheon, unconcerned with its cutting angles, and indifferent to its lamentations.  The Demon Lord has skin like polished bronze, and something writhes beneath it.   Four two-foot-long curved horns rise symmetrically from the top of his head.  His face has no nose, no mouth, only four brilliant green eyes arranged in a square pattern on his face, and these are particularly disturbing because none of them need look in the same direction as the others.  Some in the Company notice that while three of these eyes sweep back and forth across them, one of them is fixed, perfectly fixed, on Kibi and Scree.

In his left hand Lord Tapheon holds his most prized possession: a rod called _Despoiler of Flesh_, fashioned entirely of sewn-together human tongues.   Kibi leans to Dranko and whispers:  “That’s what happens to people who lick the wrong things.”

Before Dranko can answer, a voice sounds in the minds of all the Company.  It is a beautiful voice, that of a human male, filled with subtlety and wisdom, calming, mellifluous.  But underneath, almost at a subsonic level, evil power fills it, unheard but not unfelt.  

"Please come forward and introduce yourselves,”  commands Lord Tapheon.

They do.  The floor of this chamber is also an iron grille, though thankfully without the mortar.   It clangs dully beneath their boots.   When the party is only ten feet from the jagged throne, Tapheon motions for them to stop.  One by one they speak their names.   One Certain Step’s introduction is almost inaudible, and his clenched fists are white at his side.  He twitches slightly.   When it’s Kibi’s turn, the dwarf says, “I believe you know who I am.”

All four of Tapheon’s eyes lock on Kibi for a moment.

“Yes.  Kibilhathur Bimson.  Welcome to my home.”

Up close the crawling of Tapheon’s skin is impossible to ignore.   Beneath the bronze flesh it seems as if hundreds of worms are squirming without cessation.  

Dranko, predictably, decides to start up the conversation. “With respect, Lord Tapheon, had you intended to be stuck in this place?”

“No,” Tapheon's voice sounds in their heads.  “And I sense that you can do something about that.   There are things you can do for me, and there are things I can do for you.  I have brought you here to discuss those things.”

For a moment, the three of his eyes not trained on Kibi swivel to fix on One Certain Step.

“You people are vital to my return,” continues Lord Tapheon.  “Kibilhathur Bimson, One Certain Step... and a third power.  He is a man whose true name I cannot sense.  He calls himself the Lord of the Roses.”

Well, isn’t _that_ interesting.

“He tried to make an appointment to see us,” says Dranko, “and we chose to deny him.”

“Did he?”  asks Tapheon.  “And how did he contact you?”

“By sending someone to escort us,” says Dranko.

“This someone.  Where is he now?” presses Tapheon.

“Dead,” says Dranko simply.

“He made the mistake of kidnapping one of our number,” adds Aravis.

“What was his name?”  asks Tapheon.

“Srapa.”  

“Did Srapa cross my domain?  I refer to _all_ pieces of the Abyss.”

“Yes,” says Aravis.  “Several of them.”

“He did?”   Tapheon sits up straighter in his throne.   “More and more reason to...   Hm.  The Lord of the Roses seems to have violated our truce.  I have striven with him, mind-to-mind, from afar.  But he sent an emissary right under my nose, and my minions did not sense him, and so did not bring him to me.  Another reason to have him killed.”

“What is the essence of the Lord of the Roses, Lord Tapehon?” asks Dranko.

“His source of power is very much like what binds this place together,”  answers the demon.

Which brings two thoughts to the minds of the Company:  ‘Why didn’t we just go there first and skip that whole Chaos fiasco,’ and ‘Oh, crap.’

“I have wrestled with him, from here,” says Tapheon.  “He is powerful... and opaque.  But you will be able to fight him.”

“You think we need to do battle with him?” asks Morningstar, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought you needed him to help you escape,” says Kibi.

“No. He is a key player in the game.  You will visit him, and you will get what you need from him, and then I wish you to kill him.”

...to be continued...


----------



## Ruined

Glad I scrolled down and caught this update!  Negotiating with really powerful demons...  not something I'd be eager to do.


----------



## Zaruthustran

Great narration Sagiro! Love the unexpected, unexplained revalations. You've really set the mood of the place and given a strong idea of what this Lord is about (but not all about). 

-z


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 236*_
*A Poor Suggestion*

The Company mulls Tapheon’s request for a few seconds, after which Dranko asks, “And why should we want to do that?”

“It is part of the bargain we are making,”  says Tapheon coolly,  “where my part of the bargain is, I let you live, I give you an escort out of the Demon Slices which you will certainly need, and I will point you to your destination.  It won’t be a great burden.  _He_ will attack _you._  You will simply be acting in self-defense.  You will _want_ to kill him anyway.”

Lord Tapheon has to try.  It burns, how the Lord of the Roses has taunted him, defied him, and these lesser beings are his best chance for revenge.   But he harbors no illusions about his chances, and will only press them so far.   Morningstar is the first to see the obvious problem with this 'bargain.'

“But if we _don’t_ agree to kill him, and we _don’t_ reach an agreement, then you won’t escape from here.  And if he has something, and we need it, and we get it, I don’t see how his death has anything to do with it.”

“His death will _satisfy_ me,” says Tapheon, and the undertones of malice in his sonorous voice grow stronger.  ”He dared insult me.  Here.  Here!”

“He’s either very brave or very foolish,” comments Dranko.  “But our goal, Lord Tapheon, is to free you and everyone else, returning you to your own planes of existence.   And I would assume that someone of your great power could assault the Lord of the Roses with even more force, once you are returned to your own demesnes.”  

“What do you know of demons?”  rumbles Tapheon.

“Well, until recently, I thought they lived with devils in hell,” admits Dranko.  “So, apparently, not very much.”

“No, not very much.  I will have different priorities once I am home again.  This is a matter to be resolved sooner, not later.  I have options, Morningstar of Ell.  I prefer _this_ option, but I’m sure I could find new ones if I had to.”

“We’re simply not comfortable agreeing to kill someone we’ve never met,” says Aravis. 

“You’re not going to make me get inside some great piece of machinery, are you?” asks Kibi with sudden worry.  “And Chaos hasn’t been whispering into your mind?  Right?”

“What a strange creature you are.”   Tapheon’s eyes fix again on Kibi.  His alien face betrays no sign of his fear, that Kibi’s elemental familiar houses such power as could tear his throne room to pieces.  

“If you don’t mind my asking,” says Aravis.  “Why are Kibi and Step so important to freeing you?”

Tapheon chuckles in their minds.  “Kibi... may I call you Kibi, master dwarf?”

“Apparently,” says Kibi insolently.

The chuckle stops.  Palpable anger fills the air between the Demon Lord and his audience.  To be talked to in such a way!  Tapheon grips his unholy rod, prepared to make Kibilhathur Bimson suffer in ways mere mortals could not imagine, and he nearly... 

...No.  Not the dwarf.  It is too dangerous, risking his wrath.  Tapheon masters his anger and says simply: 

“I beg your pardon?”

Kibi senses immediately that he has overstepped his bounds.     

“Yes,” he says humbly, looking at his boot-tops.  “Yes, my Lord Tapheon, of course.”

Tapheon composes himself.  “Kibi has a great power... with him.  It is the best chance _we_ will have against the Lord of the Roses.  One Certain Step’s role lies beyond that.”   Two of Tapheon’s eyes focus intently on Step.  “But we will come to you presently, paladin.”

Ernie puts a hand on Step’s arm.

“Assuming we actually deal with the Lord of the Roses,” says Kibi, “how do we go about breaking up the Slices?”

“You go to the source of the phenomenon.  You put a stop to it.  All I know is that it – whatever it is – lies beyond the Lord of the Roses.”

“Heading that way, and getting out of here, has been our intention all along,” says Morningstar.  “Do you have anything substantial to contribute?”

Tapheon glowers again.  “I don’t think I like your attitude.”

Ernie immediately jumps in to change the subject.

“How do we fight the Lord of the Roses?  If he’s so powerful that even a being of your great might is wary...?”

Tapheon exhales.  “I’ll tell you this.  Even with Kibi’s power brought to bear, it will be very difficult.  You’ll be hard pressed.  So here’s something I’m contributing:  good advice.  When you go before the Lord of the Roses, be girded for battle.  Be sure you will survive.   He has gathered powerful servants to his side.” 

“He does not want the Slices to be returned?” asks Morningstar.

“My sense is, no.”

Damn.

“Can the Lord of the Roses fight directly,” asks Dranko, “or will he only fight through his servants?”

“I don’t know.  My knowledge of him is imperfect.  I see many things, and my consciousness spreads through the fabric of this great prison, but the Lord of the Roses is like a bright light into which I cannot look.”

“Has he wanted to fight us all along?” asks Kibi worriedly.

“I think he’s wanted _you_ all along.”   A second of Tapheon’s eyes flick down to Scree.  “I sense he enjoys how things are here.”   

“There’s a man, one of the humans who created the Slices,” says Dranko.  “He’s been wandering around carving statues of Kibi.  Have you seen him?”  

“Ah, him.” Tapheon nods.  “He came close once, but eluded my grasp.”

“We think he’s probably really important,” says Dranko.  

“I disagree.  I don’t think he’s important _anymore_.   He is broken.  But, back to the matter at hand...”

“We basically want the same thing,” says Kibi.  “And we’ll certainly do our utmost to make that happen.”

“If killing him the only way to accomplish our task, then we will,” adds Aravis.

Tapheon sighs.  “I don’t know that it is.  I am asking you to do it _regardless_.  And here is a thing that perhaps has not occurred to you.  I need Kibilhathur alive, and I need One Certain Step alive.  But the rest of you... “

“I was wondering when he’d get to that,” mutters Grey Wolf under his breath.

But Morningstar is undaunted.  “I’m certain that Kibi and Step would be unwilling, if not unable, to fulfill their part of the bargain by themselves.”

“The only thing we will agree to,” says Aravis, “is to attempt to break up the Slices and free you, by whatever means are necessary.”

“What could I offer, then, that would make you change your mind and agree to kill the Lord of the Roses for me?”

There is a pause of a few seconds while the Company ponders, before Dranko answers.

“You could renounce evil, give up your demonic throne, and free all the souls you have captive,” he suggests.

Some of Tapheon’s Succubae cannot help but gasp at the audacity of this proposal.  The three of Tapheon’s eyes that are not locked on Kibi and Scree all focus on Dranko, and again the anger of the Demon Lord rises up to fill the iron chamber.  Such impudence!  To suggest something so outrageous, to his very face!

Tapheon’s hand grips the _Despoiler of Flesh_ and the tongues on the rod start to flap and wiggle.

“I think I hit a sore spot...” says Dranko, gulping.

Tapheon makes the slightest of motions with the rod, and Dranko _changes._  His body twists and morphs horribly.  In a matter of seconds he has been _polymorphed_ into a paralyzed, man-sized fish, balanced on his tail.  Tapheon flicks the rod a second time, and Dranko’s body is torn and stretched, as if someone had sunk claw-fingered hands into the fish and pulled it apart like taffy.  No parts of him are actually torn away, but the horrified Company can see organs pulsing in the rent gaps of Dranko’s form.  

As for Dranko himself, the pain is immeasurable.  Beyond the haze of agony he realizes that he cannot breathe, no matter how hard he tries. 

Aravis is the first to find voice.

“That’s not a very good negotiating tactic, if you want us to kill...”

Tapheon cuts him off.  

“We are now negotiating for something else.”

...to be continued...


----------



## Fimmtiu

I guess they'll have to start calling him Dranko _No_-tongue, once Tapheon cuts it off and sews it onto his rod. Way to go, Piratecat!


----------



## RangerWickett

Kevin, if you're at GenCon, I'm buying you a beer!


----------



## KidCthulhu

How often have we told him "Don't sass the demons!".  But no, he just had to stick his oar in.

On the plus side, he was delicious breaded and fried.


----------



## el-remmen

I don't know, seemed like a reasonable request to me. . .  

Funny, in my story hour when the party refused to go kill someone for a demon he made an example of the half-orc as well. . .


----------



## Thornir Alekeg

Ouch, poor Dranko.

Too bad you didn't know how afraid Tapheon was of Kibi and Scree.  Are you just finding this out now upon reading this update?  Just wondering if Sagiro's rat-bastardness extends right on into his story hour.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Thornir Alekeg said:
			
		

> Ouch, poor Dranko.
> 
> Too bad you didn't know how afraid Tapheon was of Kibi and Scree.  Are you just finding this out now upon reading this update?  Just wondering if Sagiro's rat-bastardness extends right on into his story hour.




Yep.  We had no idea he was that afraid of us.  Mind you, I don't know that we would have changed our strategy much.  He's still a freakin' demon lord, and that's a big can of wupp ass.  We might have destroyed him, but he's not our objective.


----------



## Sagiro

Thornir Alekeg said:
			
		

> Ouch, poor Dranko.
> 
> Too bad you didn't know how afraid Tapheon was of Kibi and Scree.  Are you just finding this out now upon reading this update?  Just wondering if Sagiro's rat-bastardness extends right on into his story hour.



The only indication I gave about Tapheon's... concern... was that I made a point of constantly mentioning how one of his four eyes was _always_ locked on Kibi and Scree, no matter what else he was doing or who he was talking to.  But, no, he never let on that he was terrified of what Kibi might do.

-Sagiro


----------



## Dawn

Did that type of torture/punishment have any lasting impact on Dranko - say permanent ability damage against wisdom or intelligence?
Also, why a fish?  Seems like a strange thing for Tapheon to come up with to use as source of punishment.  Or did I miss some history between Dranko and fish?


----------



## MTR

Nice update.  It's especially nice to get them quickly enough I can remember the plot line.  I guess being kept up all night gives you more time to write.  And lack of sleep hasn't damaged your quality.


Yet.


----------



## Ashy

Dawn said:
			
		

> Did that type of torture/punishment have any lasting impact on Dranko - say permanent ability damage against wisdom or intelligence?
> Also, why a fish?  Seems like a strange thing for Tapheon to come up with to use as source of punishment.  Or did I miss some history between Dranko and fish?




I don't know, of course, but if I had to think of a critter that was pretty much completely powerless before a demon lord, a fish would fit the bill.


----------



## StevenAC

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> On the plus side, he was delicious breaded and fried.





Ernie?  Are you sure you're feeling all right?


----------



## KidCthulhu

StevenAC said:
			
		

> Ernie?  Are you sure you're feeling all right?




Oh, that's me talking, not Ernie.  Ernie doesn't like fish.  I, on the other hand, 



Spoiler



had to give up magic items


to get fish boy restored, so there's a little bitterness


----------



## Len

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> I, on the other hand, *bleep* to get fish boy restored, so there's a little bitterness



But you were obligated. "In fishness and in health" and all that.


----------



## Tamlyn

Len said:
			
		

> But you were obligated. "In fishness and in health" and all that.




Oh, that's just bad!! Even for a gamer.


----------



## Len

Sorry. I'll pay the pig next time I'm in Boston.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 237*_
*A Tempting Offer*

“We are now negotiating for something else.”

Tapheon’s voice is calm and matter-of-fact in their heads.  He has clearly mastered his temper.

“Your friend here cannot breath and will soon suffocate.”

Aravis immediately begins to cast a spell, but stops at a threatening gesture from Tapheon.

“Stop that, Aravis Telmir.   It won’t work, and will only anger me further.  Besides which, you are wasting valuable time.  Your friend is dying.   What would you like to give me, so that I will return him to his normal, air-breathing form?  Items of monetary or magical value will suffice for this... sub-negotiation.”

Aravis whips the magical wizard hat off his head; it’s been a long time since he’s pulled anything out of it.  He ends up with a small glass globe, half-filled with a shimmering grey liquid.  

“What is that?”  asks Tapheon amusedly.

“Mercury.  I think,” says Aravis.

“Toss it over.”

Dranko is almost as confused as he is tortured.  He has no clear sense of his body, not even of where his feet are.  For that matter he can’t even _feel_ his feet.  One of his fish-eyes is fixed on the party, and the other is on Tapheon, but he can neither blink nor turn away from either.  His field of vision is distorted and alien, like he’s looking through two blurry spyglasses each pointed in a different direction.  

Of course, it’s hard to think clearly about those things given how much pain he’s in.  The others can see his tendons and ribs and fleshy fish-bits through the holes ripped in his body.  

One of Tapheon’s eyes follows the globe of mercury as Aravis rolls it to the base of the throne.   The Demon Lord shakes his head, taps his foot, and casts two of his eyes meaningfully at Dranko.  

Grey Wolf offers up his _ring of the berserker_.  Ernie gives up a seldom-used +1 short bow, and Flicker reluctantly sacrifices his _glove of missile snaring_.  When Tapheon still looks unimpressed, Kibi fishes out his bag of reserve gems and starts pulling out handfuls.  When he’s emptied over 1000 GP worth into the pile, Tapheon nods his head slightly.

“Pathetic. But acceptable.  This sidelight is about instruction, not extortion.”

He squeezes the _Despoiler of Flesh_ and  the tongues wriggle and writhe.  Dranko congeals back into an un-stretched fish and then quickly back into his half-orcish form.   The pain switches off, leaving only a hideous memory.  

Tapheon stretches out a hand and the pile of loot slides itself behind his throne and out of sight.  Dranko watches and can’t stop himself from exclaiming, “That’s was it?  You ransomed me for that?  I though I was worth ten times that much!”

“If you wish,  I can turn you back, and your friends can give up more of their valuables.”   It’s hard to tell if he’s joking.  

In as steady and stern a voice as he can manage, Ernie says, “Dranko, I’m your friend, and I don’t ask you for much.  But I’m begging you...  Shut.  Up.  I don’t want to stay here anymore, and I don’t want you to die here.”

“I’m not afraid of that,” says Dranko, full of sincerity and bluster together.  “My soul is pure.  Ish.  Pure-ish.”

“Your soul is most certainly _not_ pure,” Tapheon scoffs.  “But then, very few people can say that.  Not even you.”

Here he looks meaningfully at Once Certain Step.

“But like I said, we’ll get to you presently.  Now.  Shall I ask the question again, now that I can expect more reasonable answers?”

“No, there’s nothing you can offer us,” says Aravis wearily.  

“Pity.  And I ask for so little.”

“Like we said,” says Morningstar, “It’s entirely likely that if he attacks us, you’ll get what you want anyway.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to make due,”  says Tapheon with exaggerated resignation.  After a few seconds of silence the Demon Lord speaks again, his tone lighter..

“Step.  Come forward please.”  

Step walks forward slowly until he stands directly at the foot of the serrated throne.  Ernie goes with him, and Tapheon does not object

"I’m going to make you an offer.”   Tapheon’s voice is now full of magnanimity.  “It only applies to you, so the rest of you, don’t get any ideas.  I’m going to offer to let you kill me.”

Er.  What?

“I won’t defend myself.  I haven’t done anything to you personally, yes, but don’t let that stop you.  I’ve committed atrocities of such magnitude, and in such numbers, that there is no doubt I deserve death, or worse.  So, because I sense you want it so badly, and because you’ll be doing the world a great service... you may kill me.”

Step instinctively grips his sword, but Ernie whispers to him:  "Temptation is temptation, Step.  Think about what you’re doing.”

“Temptation?  That’s such a crude term.”   Tapheon shakes his head at Ernie, then turns back to Step.  “Don’t you think I deserve to die?  Did you see what I did to your friend?   Step.  You’ve wanted to.  I know what you want.  I’m offering you a once-in-a-lifetime congruence of what you _want_, and what is _right_.    It is not _right_ that I should be alive.  Would you like me to show you deeds I’ve done?  The torments I’ve visited on a thousand souls?  Once you’ve seen them, you may have no _choice_.  Your conscience, that which makes you so noble, will move on its _own_ to strike me down.”

“Don’t do it, Step,” whispers Ernie.

Step doesn’t release his sword, but he says haltingly: “I know what it is you offer.”

“Oh, I doubt that.   The obvious answer isn’t the right answer in this case, One Certain Step.”

Conflict darkens the paladin’s complexion.  He thinks he sees the trap.  He’ll move to strike this creature, a vile monster more deserving of death than anything that’s been in the reach of his sword.  But Tapheon is lying, and won’t allow himself to be killed.  Step will accomplish nothing save breaking his own code of conduct.  But would it, really?  Didn’t Tapheon strike first when he... changed... Dranko?   What would Kemma’s judgment be if he dies having rid the universe of such a loathsome beast as this?  Or having struck down in anger a being offering no resistance?  Aren’t the giants of Surgoil enough of a blemish on his soul?  Must he add this as well?  

“You see, Step, what you’re thinking is:  ‘I’m being tempted to strike you because the right thing to do is, never strike first.’  They do teach you that sort of thing, right?  But in this case, the temptation is deeper.  In this case, the temptation is: are you so bound to your promises that you would doom thousands of people, all those who I will go on to torment and kill in my life, to uphold an abstract ideal that frankly means nothing in this context?  Think of the suffering you will cause, by _not_ killing me.”

“And you’re making this offer out of the goodness of your heart?” asks Morningstar.

“I have good reasons, that you will come to appreciate.  Step, strike me.” 

One Certain Step starts to pull the sword from his sheath, then stops.  With a great effort he releases the grip; his hand finds Ernie’s hand, lifted up to him, and he grips it, trembling. 

“You know so little of Good,” Step utters, exhaling a long-held breath.

Tapheon steps back.  “My friend, I know more about Good than you.  But, well done!  You’ve passed the test.  Your soul is pure.  Pure enough.  A lesser man would have struck me, I’m sure.  But now you are ready to atone.”

Step goes pale.

“It is necessary, isn’t it.  I can sense it.  Can’t you?”

The paladin nods instinctively.   Yes, he can sense it.  The Lightless Room...

“He’ll need all his faith, all his purity when the time comes, won’t he?”  Tapheon addresses the others.  “I don’t know why.  That moment will come beyond the Lord of the Roses and beyond my sight.  But I feel it will be so.”

Tapheon manages to convey a contented smile despite his lack of mouth.

“Now I’ll tell you something more, and this truly _is_ of the goodness of my heart.  Mostly.  I’m also telling you this because I don’t know what you’ll find past the Lord of the Roses, and this information may be useful to you.  And, it pleases me to think you may owe me something in the future.   Not that you have any intentions of paying me back; you won’t consider this a debt, and I don’t blame you.  But I digress. 

“The Black Circle Wizards, they also deserve death.  I know why this all started, and it’s their fault.  They had the gall to come to the Abyss, set up shop.  They were attempting something very strange.  They were setting up... a beacon.  Sending magical signals into the adjoining planes.”

He turns to Aravis.  “You know of what I speak, Holy One.”

Holy One?  What?  Tapheon continues. 

“The coterminous planes, they call them.  The Black Circle devotees sent this signal out, as if they expected something to hear them.  There are parts of these coterminous planes that can only be reached through the Abyss, or the Hells, or some other Outer Planes.  Nothing answered them.  I don’t think there was anything there to answer.  But they attempted to augment this with a wild-magic item.  That was a mistake.  I suppose I could have stopped them, but I found their efforts fascinating.  It is always bad news for people on the Primes to open permanent ways to the Lower Planes.  They meddled in things they knew not of, and look what happened.  The Slices.  Their power source got out of hand.”

“We know they were trying to summon what they believe to be their Lord,” says Aravis.

“Yes.  And what is that?  Do you know?

The Company shakes their heads. 

“Something immensely powerful, I imagine.  Trapped, unable to find its way home.  I suppose I should be glad whatever it is didn’t answer.  If it did, it may have traveled through my domain and challenged my power.  I have better things to do.

“And now, this interview is at an end.   You will be escorted to the borders of the Abyssal lands.  Beyond that you will have no option but reach the Lord of the Roses.  He has seen to that.  By destroying certain of the Ways he has made a corridor between me and him, as we have wrestled from our seats of power.  He... can turn off Ways, to better channel his power.  But he has not turned off the ways necessary for you to reach him.  He desires that.”

“Does he have the power source that the Black Circle used to make the beacon?” asks Kibi.

“My guess is yes.  I sense it is the same type of power.”   

Not for a single second in all of this encounter has Tapheon's upper left eye strayed from Kibi’s feet.  Now the other three eyes flick again toward Scree.  Then Lord Tapheon gestures, and the red circle blinks back on.  

“Queylic will escort you.  Good luck.”  

Soon the Company is back in the long corridor.  Queylic is there, with two Vrocks attending her.   

“This way.”  She slithers down the corridor.  

“I never thought I’d be glad to see _her_,” says Morningstar.

Queylic soon leads them to the large room with many doors, and then out and down the huge iron ramp. The screams of impaled souls sound loud and terrible in their ears.   

“It is not a long walk to the next Way out,” says Queylic, gliding on ahead of them.   “I hope that your audience with Lord Tapheon went well?”

 “As well as could be expected,” says Dranko.

“We’re all still alive,” adds Kibi.

“Yes.  Most unexpected,” says Queylic, sounding honestly surprised.  “He must want something very badly from you.”

“He does,” says Dranko.  And then he adds: “You were right about him not liking jokes, though.”

... to be continued...


----------



## Ashy

AWESOME!!!!    Excellent job, Sagiro!


----------



## el-remmen

eh. Ya let 'em off easy. . .


----------



## coyote6

I dunno, it seems like Tapheon got something close to what he was expecting.


----------



## Sarellion

El-Remmen prefers a more gritty style.


----------



## shilsen

el-remmen said:
			
		

> eh. Ya let 'em off easy. . .



 I wouldn't count on it. As the saying goes, it ain't over till the four-eyed noseless, mouthless demon lord sings. Or something like that


----------



## el-remmen

coyote6 said:
			
		

> I dunno, it seems like Tapheon got something close to what he was expecting.






			
				Sarellion said:
			
		

> El-Remmen prefers a more gritty style.






			
				shilsen said:
			
		

> I wouldn't count on it. As the saying goes, it ain't over till the four-eyed noseless, mouthless demon lord sings. Or something like that




Come on! What part of "  " don't you guys understand?   

I mean, first Tapheon polymorphs and tortures Dranko, and then to show the party that they will do what he wants he demands a paltry little thing from them (some minor magic and gems) just to show his "generosity" because obviosuly if he wanted more from them he would have it.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Believe me when I say we didn't feel like we'd been let off easy.  Taffeon was bad, bad, bad.  Not all scarey, dangerous encounters involve combat.


----------



## Len

Not only that, _he's still there._ So you haven't really been let off at all, yet.


----------



## Piratecat

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> Kevin, if you're at GenCon, I'm buying you a beer!




Deal.  

And Dranko has a _brilliant_ plan to deal with Tapheon. Absolutely brilliant. Err. . . if you take his 9 intelligence into account, at least.  Ahem.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Which means "let's find him and do something embarrassing to him".  It's not a brilliant plan, but it is a predictable plan.


----------



## RangerWickett

And really, predictable plans are the greatest love of all . . . er, um, no, sorry, that's not quite right.

Fish!  Fish is the greatest love of all!


----------



## LightPhoenix

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> Fish! Fish is the greatest love of all!




Once you've had fish, you never go back?


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 238*_
*Out of the Abyss*


“I should warn you about where we’re going next.”

The Marilith Queylic slithers ahead of the Company, while the two Vrock hunch and flap restlessly behind them.  Around them is the omnipresent murmur of a thousand damned souls, the song of the Abyss.

“You should have the means to protect yourselves from flies,” she says.

“Flies?” echoes Dranko, making a face.  “Ugh.”

“And they’ll be particularly hungry,” adds Queylic.  “Ordinarily they are corpse-eating flies, but the supply of fresh corpses has dwindled of late.  I suggest you make your preparations _before_ we go to the next Slice.  Once there, they will make it difficult to cast spells.”

“How long will our protections have to last?” asks Aravis.

“You will have to endure the flies for three hours.   And while we’re on the subject, the Slice beyond that is extraordinarily hot.  There you will need protection from heat, or you will burst into flames.  It will take four hours to cross that one, if things go well.”

For another two hours they trudge through a veritable forest of impaled bodies.  Talk turns to their meeting with Tapheon, and Dranko’s transformation in particular.  Dranko expects sympathy, but gets little.  In his mind the Demon Lord’s torment of him was unjustified.  He asked a question honestly, and was made to suffer.   Only Aravis sides with this opinion; the others either agree that he spoke unwisely, or stay silent on the subject.  Kibi, with an unsurprising absence of tact, remarks, “Dranko, that was just a stupid thing to say.   You should consider yourself lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Dranko glares at him for a minute before turning away with a grunt.  Kibi shrugs his shoulders, and Dranko is uncharacteristically silent until they reach the Way out.   As they draw near to the blue portal, they see a dozen more Vrock and a contingent of Glabrezu waiting for them.

“Are they with you?” asks Grey Wolf.

“They are coming with us.  In the Slice beyond the flies – the hot one – we will want a show of force to deter the Magma Demons.”

“Magma Demons?” asks Grey Wolf worriedly.  “I don’t like the sound of that...”

“Yes, nasty creatures,” says Queylic.    “Now, take what time you need.   You probably won’t have seen flies in such quantities.”

Morningstar fills two empty spell slots with _repel vermin_.  During that fifteen minutes Queylic smiles and stares intently at Step, but the paladin just smiles back at her.   After the interview with Tapheon, One Certain Step no longer finds the mockery and taunts of the Marilith troubling.  Queylic looks disappointed.   When Morningstar is ready they step through the Way.

She sure wasn’t kidding about the flies.

The air is filled with their loud, unending drone.   The ground is littered with skeletons.  And in the air are a million flies, easily the size of bumblebees, swarming as thickly as snow in a blizzard.   The nearest of these spot the party and move to feast, only to be thwarted by Morningstar’s spell.  Thirty seconds later and the flies have formed an opaque hemisphere around them, thousands of starving vermin desperate for food and buzzing angrily. 

There are many utterances on the theme of “Thank you, Ell!”

Queylic’s voice, her actual voice, sounds above the fly-wing din. 

“Can you hear me? You’ll have to follow my voice.   You’ll be fine – just keep your eyes on the ground.”

While they walk, Queylic talks loudly to keep the Company headed in the right direction.   She explains that when the Abyss is working properly, bodies of the damned are falling from the sky all the time in this Layer.  The flies feast on the bodies, but of course no corpses have fallen in many years.  

“You’d think the flies would have died off without food,” says Dranko. 

“These flies can live a long, long time.  They are part of how the Abyss works.  This Layer is used as a disposal.  I guess that in other parts of the Abyss, the real Abyss, they’ve had to improvise to handle the glut of corpses.   But that should be an easy problem for the more imaginative Demon Lords.”

“So these flies aren’t for torment, then?” asks Dranko.  

“We have plenty of other options for torment,” says Queylic.  “There are specific individuals to whom flies are _assigned_, depending on their transgressions and phobias.”

Abruptly Queylic appears before them, having entered their fly-edged bubble.  (The flies bounce harmlessly off of her – a perk of Damage Reduction.) 

“We have arrived at the next Way.  Are you prepared for the heat?”

They are.  

“Beyond the next Slice there is only one more section of the Abyss for you to traverse.  It is a large sea of mercury.”

Aravis has an idea, and asks Queylic, “How many miles are we crossing in the next two areas?”

“It’s about ten miles through the hot Slice, and perhaps twenty to the Way that leaves the Abyss entirely.”

“And then what?” asks Dranko.

“I don’t know,” says Queylic.  “My knowledge ends where does the Abyss.”

“Should we expect to be attacked in the Slice with the mercury?” asks Dranko.

“No,” says Queylic.  “Nothing lives there.  Nothing could.”

“But we should expect to be attacked in the fiery place?” Dranko persists.

“Not if I and my entourage are with you,” answers Queylic.  “The Magma Demons only attack if they are assured of victory.”

Aravis shares his idea; that they should just _wind walk_ through the next two Slices.  Queylic is amenable to this; she and her retinue can _teleport_ to keep up.  Spells are cast, and the group of them goes through the Way.  After the usual black void of portal travel they emerge into a Slice that is indeed very hot.  On the plus side, they do not immediately burst into flames, despite the glowing red air and numerous rivers of molten lava.  On the minus side, the Balor Trugoth is there with his own entourage of demons.   Once Queylic and her crew arrive, it’s almost a convention.

Queylic regards the Balor towering over her.

“What are you doing here?” she asks haughtily.

Trugoth rumbles, “You thought you could pin it on me?  You foolish little girl.”

The Balor grips his enormous flaming sword and speaks to the Company.

“Those demons who attacked you.  We were all under strict orders to capture you alive, and yet you were assaulted.  Who do you think ordered them?  What do you think, Queylic?”

The Company decides that this would be a good time to start turning into mist-form.  

“I’m certain I don’t know what you mean,” says Queylic, her six arms starting to reach for her own weapons.  “No one would have been foolish enough to...”

“You think you can hide the truth from me, Marilith?” booms Trugoth.

The demons on both sides are starting to snarl and pace.  Combat seems imminent.

“Uh, excuse me!” says Dranko, interrupting.  “If you could just point the way to the exit, we’ll get out of your way.”

“Your Lord feels strongly that we leave this place safely,” adds Aravis.

Both Queylic and Trugoth point, both in about the same direction, without taking their eyes off of one another.

“I suggest you leave at once,” says Trugoth.  “Because when I start to pull the arms off of this Marilith, there may be some... fallout.”

Just as the Company turns gaseous, the fighting breaks out in earnest.    The air is filled with rapidly _teleporting_ demons trying to get advantageous tactical positions.  Combat both physical and magical explodes all around, and as the Company flees, those who turn around to watch see Trugoth holding up Queylic by the neck, while all six of the Marilith’s blades slash at the Balor’s body. 

Flying at two hundred feet above the ground, the Company sees Magma Demons moving about below, bright red specks populating the banks of the lava rivers.   Morningstar spots a landing spot safe enough for her to cast _find the path_, as a precautionary measure in case Queylic and Trugoth’s directions were off.   This provokes a small course correction, but they had been heading in about the right direction, and only minutes later they spot the glowing blue light of the Way out.  There are several Magma Demons in its vicinity.

The Company lands, goes solid, and Kibi immediately puts up a _wall of force_ shielding them from the demons.  Ernie activates his _winged shield_ and flies through the Way to check things out.   He is disappointed to find that there is no place to land; the Way opens thirty feet above a flat gray expanse of mercury that stretches as far as the eye can see in every direction.

Ernie comes back just in time to witness a volley of _fireballs_ explode against the _wall of force_.  Dranko, still in a sour mood, gives the Magma Demons the finger.   Grey Wolf uses a wand to cast _fly_ on One Certain Step, so that the paladin and Ernie can shuttle the rest of the group through the Way.  (Once on the other side, the non-flyers can turn gaseous again while being held up by the flyers.)   Ernie and Dranko are the last two to go through, literally pursued by _fireballs_ from some Magma Demons who have figured out the _wall of force_ and gone around it.

Morningstar, last to be carried by Step, casts a new _find the path_ before turning back into mist.  Dranko convinces Ernie to fly low enough to allow the half-orc to scoop up a vial of mercury.  Mmmmm.  Demonic mercury.

Once everyone is back in mist-form the Company flies quickly across the steely gray sea.   It looks like solid ground, offering no reflections and betraying not the slightest ripple.   Half an hour later they spot the Way out, hanging high in the air.  Beneath it, resting atop the mercury, is a huge jumble of bones.  On close examination they guess it’s the bones of sixty or seventy humanoid creatures, piled haphazardly.  

There’s a quick discussion about how to scout the next Slice, and how to get everyone _into_ it given that they have to be solid to go through the Way.   Aravis is the answer to both questions.

First he flies upward until he’s a thousand feet in the air, and then becomes solid.  He has enough time while falling to cast _overland flight_ and pull up before diving into the mercury.  While the others wait, he flies through the Way.

The first thing he registers upon arrival is the absence of the Abyss’s all-pervading evil nature.   It’s a joyous feeling, and he revels in it while taking in his surroundings.  These are fairly non-descript; the Way opens onto a deserted dirt road running through a tiny village of simple clay dwellings.   There are no signs of inhabitants.   Aravis returns to the others, where the despair of the Abyss reasserts itself.  

For part two of the plan, he casts a _rope trick_ so that the rope hangs down directly in front of the Way.   The rest of the Company flies into the extradimensional space, turns solid inside, then climbs down the rope and swings into the portal.  Fortunately no one slips and falls into the mercury.  

Everyone enjoys the spiritual uplift now that the Abyss is behind them, but Kibi, paranoid as they draw nearer to the Lord of the Roses, casts a _veil_ to make everyone look like chipmunks.  Then he casts _prying eyes_ and sends the sensors out to scout.  (Due a surge in the wild magic, he actually gets 30 such _eyes_, as the spell is spontaneously augmented by the Twin Spell feat.)  It’s very quiet as they wait for the _eyes_ to return; there’s nothing besides themselves making any noise at all.

“Do you think you’re ready for _atonement?_ Morningstar asks One Certain Step.

The paladin gazes down the empty street.  

“Yes,” he says softly.

“We should cast it now, before we meet the Lord of the Roses,” says Morningstar.

Step nods, but says: “Not here, though.  This is not a good place for it.  There will still be time, I think.”

Dranko abruptly stands and stalks off.  Despite the departure from the Abyss, he has descended into a deep funk, still fuming over the others’ lack of sympathy, and Kibi’s insult in particular.  He explores the small clay buildings, finding simple plates and bowls, and primitive furniture.

Half an hour later the first of Kibi’s sensors comes back, having seen nothing interesting.  The village is extremely small.  If the bones in the sea of mercury came from here, it was probably the whole population.   Eventually all the _eyes_ return, collectively painting a picture for Kibi of a small Slice with a cluster of four Ways on the other side of the village.  Three of the four are gray and dead.  

While the Company is ready to stop traveling for the “day,” they decide to scout out the next Way before going to bed.  Dranko volunteers, relishing the chance to be alone, and goes through with the usual rope-around-the-waist precaution.  He finds himself standing on a grassy hill at night, under a sky blazing with stars.  In the soft starlight he sees many such hills, dotted with trees and stands of sleeping flowers.  He hears a rustling nearby but it’s only a rabbit munching on some grass.  Very faintly he smells the familiar tang of wood-smoke.  

He comes back and reports, sullen.

“Habitable,” he shrugs.  “Nice.  Bunnies and flowers.”

Step wants to check it out, and Dranko accompanies him.   For a minute the two of them stand there side by side, gazing out upon the starlit grass. 

“What’s the matter?” asks Step quietly.

“Nothing,” says Dranko crossly.  

“If you don’t want to talk about it,” says Step with a wry smile, “you can say ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’”

Dranko can’t help but crack a small smile himself.  He turns to Step and says, “I’m not ready yet.”

Step nods.  “I understand.  I’ll listen, when you’re ready.”

The paladin looks around and sniffs the air.  “It seems good, but I won’t know for sure until the sun is out.” 

At Dranko's suggestion he decides to camp there, so that he can watch the sun rise the next morning.   The two of them stay there while the rest sleep back in the village, a precautionary rope stretched between Slices just in case.


* *

Dranko wakes to find One Certain Step watching a gorgeous sunrise.  The sun itself is twice the size of the one that rises over Kivia, casting its early light across a pristine countryside painted with blossoming trees and flowers.   A sunrise chorus of birds sings in the boughs.  From a couple of valleys over a thin thread of smoke rises, as if from a campfire or chimney. 

Step sighs contentedly.

“This place will do.”

...to be continued...


----------



## wedgeski

Rockin'. How far behind the game are we about now?


----------



## Sagiro

wedgeski said:
			
		

> Rockin'. How far behind the game are we about now?




According to my notes, the Story Hour is in the middle of run #168.  The actual game has had 178 runs, so the answer is: 10 runs behind, or about 7 months.  Measured another way, there are about 40 hours of gaming between then and now.  

Or, by the most daunting metric, 20 cassette tapes worth.    

-Sagiro


----------



## aros

i sorta forget but why does step have to attone?


----------



## Jackylhunter

I don't think it's ever actually been talked about, I could be wrong.  I'll have to go back and re-read the whole thing to be sure...YAY!!!...=)


----------



## Sagiro

aros said:
			
		

> i sorta forget but why does step have to attone?




Here's the multipart answer.  (Jackylhunter, stop reading if you want a reason to go back and read the whole thing.  )

Remember first that One Certain Step is only with the Company in the first place to fulfill a prophecy.  According to that prophecy he needs to "be the one in the lightless room."  Also (he thinks) he is doomed to die there.

Jump forward to the battle with the Nightmare Beasts in the cave, early on in Het Branoi.   Step was killed in that battle, and upon his death his body left behind a small smear of light that quickly faded.  After Morningstar resurrected him, Step knew more about what he had to do.  When a Paladin of Kemma dies, the light he leaves behind is proportional to his purity of spirit, his "goodness," if you will.   Step realized that he had slipped from the true path of Kemma, particularly in the episode where they slaughtered the giants who lived near the Het Branoi tower.   That is why the light from his death was so paltry.

In the "Lightless Room," Step thinks, he's going to die, and will need to provide as much light as possible upon his death.  In order for that to happen, he'll need to atone first, to repent of his sins and become pure in the eyes of the Sun Goddess.  

Make sense?

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> In order for that to happen, he'll need to atone first, to repent of his sins and become pure in the eyes of the Sun Goddess.




It's like holy marinating.  Makes him more tasty!  The goodness is soaked through!


----------



## Micah




----------



## Quartermoon

Is my memory faulty, or is Step an NPC?  Such a rich story line for an NPC is pretty cool.


----------



## el-remmen

Quartermoon said:
			
		

> Is my memory faulty, or is Step an NPC?  Such a rich story line for an NPC is pretty cool.




I was thinking the same thing. . .


----------



## KidCthulhu

Step is indeed an NPC, although he has been played by various guests at Sagiro's table over the years.

Rich story-line is Sagiro's middle name.  Which is hard to fit on forms, and makes monogramming difficult, but shows great foresight on the part of his parents.


----------



## aros

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Make sense?
> -Sagiro




makes sense...now just to see the atonement process...taht sounds interesting.  that and what happens w/the lord of the roses but thats for another post im sure


----------



## Sagiro

aros said:
			
		

> makes sense...now just to see the atonement process...taht sounds interesting.




Don't get too excited; it mostly involves the casting of the _atonement_ spell.

-Sagiro


----------



## Jackylhunter

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Rich story-line is Sagiro's middle name.  Which is hard to fit on forms, and makes monogramming difficult, but shows great foresight on the part of his parents.




/me glares at KidC while sqeegeeing the soda off the monitor screen.

Thanks KC, =)


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 239*_
*A Little Slice of Heaven*

The Company is gathered around One Certain Step, at the top of a green hill.  Morningstar and Ernie have _both_ offered to cast _atonement_ and are preparing for the ritual.  Step notices Dranko frowning despite the glorious sun and the cloudless blue sky.  Dranko is still sullen about the Tapheon incident, and now keenly aware that his God-derived power lags behind that of his fellow clerics.  

“Dranko, I’d appreciate your help as well,” says Step.

Dranko looks up sharply, but his expression softens and he nods his head.

Step sits down on the grass and closes his eyes, a picture of solemn introspection.  He has no need to dwell upon his misdeeds, having done that on a daily basis every day since the battle with the giants.   Instead he focuses on his desires for the future: that he serve the Sun Goddess with an unclouded mind and unsullied heart; that he show an unflinching bravery when he is called upon to sacrifice; and that he not only be at peace with his lot, but understand the depth of the honor Kemma has bestowed.  

While he prays, he chews on a perfectly-made cinnamon bun, prepared by Ernie for the occasion.

Ernie casts _consecrate_ on the hill, centered on the paladin.  

“Yondalla, I ask you to take unto yourself, and also place on me, the burden of Step’s soul.  He acted, as I did, from enthusiasm but not from wisdom.  He struck when it was not necessary, and brought pain where it was not needed.  He knows this well, and wishes to atone.”

Morningstar effects a _personal darkness_ for her own part in the ritual, but follows this immediately by activating the _daylight_ power of her holy shield.   This moment is not about her, after all.  Step’s body is rimmed with light, his armor gleaming.

“Ell, I ask you to help me take up this burden, to restore the balance that is needed, between darkness and light, between daylight and night.”

Both clerics feel the chill of life-force lost, and the sins of Step being lifted away.  Then Dranko speaks.

“Life is path toward the sunrise.  Stay out of the shadows.  Not the darkness – the shadows.”

“Well do I know the difference,” says Step, and as he speaks, his sins are cleansed, and the _atonement_ is complete. 


* *

The Company feasts upon a fine breakfast (prepared by Ernie, of course).  As they eat, Kibi looks up at Dranko and catches the half-orc’s eye.

“Dranko... I’m... I’m sorry that I made you mad.  It’s hard, I know, not to speak out to a nasty evil demon lord like that.  I know you’re brave, and I know you’re not stupid.  I shouldn’t have said what I did, and I’m sorry.”

Dranko finishes chewing and looks straight and hard at Kibi.

“You need to understand,” he says.  “You don’t bargain with that sort of evil.  Nor do you get down and lick its boots.  He asked a question, and I gave him an answer.  He didn’t like the answer, so he turned me into something that would kill me.  I was ready to die for that.  You don’t, however, get to claim that I was ‘stupid.’  I don’t think you have the moral authority to _make_ that sort of judgment.  Not on me.  If you wouldn’t give _your_ life for that, that’s your choice.”

Dranko realizes that everyone is listening to him now.  He speaks broadly to the Company.

“You don’t _bargain_ with a being like that.  If you give in, if you make deals for the little things, then it _knows_ it can make you bargain for the more important things.  You should have let me die, if that’s what it took, or you should have called his bluff.  He _knew_ that if I had died, you never would have agreed to help him.  But if I’m wrong, if that wasn’t the case... so, I die.  If it thwarts something like that, it’s worth it.”

Flicker takes exception.  “But, Dranko, from our point of view, it was _Tapheon_ who wasn’t worth it.  Your life’s more important than any dealings with demons.”

“I still think Dranko gave a legitimate answer to Tapheon’s question,” says Aravis.

“Sure!” agrees Flicker.  Then, to Dranko: “And so some demon guy got all pissy, and we gave up some useless junk to soothe his ego.  Who cares?  He’s still a jerk, and you’re still alive!”

Dranko turns to Kibi again.  “I’m more upset that you... no, you apologized, and that should be the end of it.  Maybe you understand, and maybe you don’t.”

“I doubt I do,” says Kibi.  “But I do understand that I shouldn’t make moral judgments about your decisions.  And that you have your own code you live by, that’s very important to you.”

Dranko nods and grunts.  The discussion is over. 

“Let’s move,” he says, standing and stretching.  

“Where are we going?” asks Flicker.

“I think there’s a little town down that way.  By the time we get there, it’ll be time for lunch.”


*  *


There’s some debate about going in disguise, but there’s a general feeling that it would be nice to trust people for a change, and besides, it’s not as if they can sneak up on the Lord of the Roses.   Surely he knows they’re coming.   The Company packs up and heads down the hill toward the distant straggle of smoke that rises from a distant valley.   As they walk, they speak at length about the what they learned from Tapheon, and again about such arcane topics as the “interstitial matrix,” and the relationship between wild magic and the Far Realms.  There’s general agreement that the encroachment into the Abyss must have been why the Black Circle wanted to destroy the Hets.  In Tapheon’s own words, “it is always bad news for people on the Primes to open permanent ways to the Lower Planes.”

The party comes across the source of the smoke sooner than they expect.  Not more than an hour has passed before they are looking down another hill into a picturesque valley, with small well-tended fields, clear green pastures, and a single farmhouse with a nearby barn.  There is no town, only the one farm, and the smoke rises from the farmhouse chimney.  A lone farmer works in a field not far from the house.   As a group they walk down the hill towards him.

“Hello!” shouts Morningstar, when they figure he’s close enough to hear them.

The farmer looks up, sees them, and goes stock still.  He drops his hoe.  Dranko smiles and waves.   The man shakes his head as if to clear it, gives a small wave in return, then turns his head and shouts something over his shoulder.  Kibi activates his _Ioun Stone of tongues_.  

The Company doesn’t want to tromp across the man’s crops, but they get as close as they can.  The farmer just stands there, turning in place to track them and looking deeply concerned, or at least puzzled.

“Hello!” says Kibi, standing about twenty feet from the farmer.  The man reaches down slowly to pick up his hoe, but doesn’t take his eyes off these well-armed strangers.   He’s an older man, probably well into his sixties.  

“Have you seen anyone else pass through here?” asks Kibi.  “It looks like you’re not used to seeing strangers.”

In a slow drawling voice, the farmer says, “What’re y’ doin’ here, eh?”

“Just passing through,” says Kibi, now translating for the others.  “We’re wondering where the next Way is.”

The farmer looks as though he’s trying to solve an impossible riddle.  At last he answers.

“Passing through?  But... this is heaven.  Are you dead?”

Kibi thinks long and hard about how to answer.

“Have you been here a long time?” he asks finally, evading the farmer’s question.

“It’s kinda hard t’ gauge th’ passin’ of th’ years,” says the farmer.  “I’d say maybe ten’r fifteen, since Trin and I passed away.”

“So, you died and ended up here?” asks Kibi.  “How did you die?”

“We jus’ assumed we passed in’r sleep,” says the man, idly scratching his head.  

In a small voice, and unable to help himself, Kibi asks, “So... how do you know this is heaven?”

The farmer seems undisturbed by the question.  “What _else_ could it be,” he says smiling.  “It’s just me and m’ wife here on the farm.”

“Have you seen any angels, or holy beings?” asks Kibi.

“Can’t say that a’have,” says the farmer, amused.  “F’ya don’t mind m’ askin’, how’d you all get here? 

“Have you seen the shimmering blue things?” asks Kibi.

“Yeah.  Temptations, they are.  I’m not going through and  losin’ heaven, believe you me.  Like m’wife says, even if they take y’ somewhere else, what’s better’n here?”

“I’m staying,” says Dranko, smiling widely for the first time in a while.

“I see your point,” says Kibi.  “This is... really nice.”

“You speak th’ language, but yer friends don’t,” observes the farmer.  “Don’t mind m’askin’, but you ain’t human.  What are ya?  And are ya hungry?”

“We just ate a big breakfast, but thanks,” says Kibi.  “And I’m a dwarf.”

“Well, y’are kinda short.  And why’re you here in heaven”” asks the farmer.  “I figgered, since it was only us, everyone must have their own heaven, right?  But you ended up in ours!”

“We’re able to pass through from one heaven to another,” says Kibi.  “but some of them aren’t heavens at all.  They’re bad places.”

“You mean hell?” asks the farmer with a knowing nod.  

“Yeah,” says Kibi.

The farmer looks awed.  “You’ve been through hell, and now yer in heaven.   What kind of critters are ya, who can travel like that?”

“Ones who aren’t as fortunate as you.  We haven’t found our peace yet.”

“We’re testing our will by going through the temptations,” says Aravis, while Kibi translates. 

“So you came from yer own heaven, and yers had those blue things too, and you went through ‘em?  I don’t think you outta have done that.  How do you know you can get back?  You mighta just failed!”

“Ours is not a good fate, forever wandering, but we’re hoping to finish our quest and find peace,” says Kibi.  “Can you tell us, where is the next blue doorway?”

“Sure can,” he says, pointing.  “It’s a few miles that way.  Through some woods, then across the stream.  It’s up on another hilltop.”

“Is there anything we can do for you?  Anything you need?” asks Kibi.

“Oh, we have everything we need.  We have each other.  Maybe it’s _you_ who outta be askin’ what _we_ can do for _you_.  But I think the only answer to that is to pray, isn’t it.  I’m sorry, I really am.  While you’re here you’re welcome to everything we have.  Food.  Place to stay.  Warm fire.  Stay in the barn if you want.”

“That’s very kind, but we shouldn’t dawdle,” says Kibi.  “Thanks for your kindness.”

An old woman has come to the door of the farmhouse and is just staring at them confusedly.

“I think we’re disturbing them,” whispers Ernie.  “We should go.  And if we fix all this, they’ll end up back here.  But it’ll still be where they’re happy, and I think this will be their heaven after all, in the end.”

“Peace be with you,” he says to the farmer, bowing. 

“Well, may Shayle bless you, and may he bring you a bounty and a happiness like he’s brought me and Trinia.  Mind you don’t step on the crops on your way.”

As the Company climbs up the other side of the valley, Ernie turns to see the old couple holding hands, standing and watching them go.  He waves back and smiles.

...to be continued...


----------



## LightPhoenix

See, the real problem with the updates at 2am is I'm usually drunk when I read them, so Dranko makes a good kind of sense, and I'm pretty sure he's only supposed to make a decent kind.


----------



## Naathez

This is in no way criticism - more like fascination at a moral doubt.
Did any of Abernathy's Company consider that by solving the problem of the Slices.. they'd, in a way, be robbing this old couple of their heaven?

Er, Ernie. I DID read what you said. But... but MY doubt, in such a situation, would be...  would the old couple still have Faith, if they discovered what they'd thought for so long to be heaven was... a mistake, a failed experiment, and not Heaven?

Someone asked, "Imagine you could make a perfect world. A world without sorrow, hunger, pain. But imagine all this cost the life of a joyous, beautiful little child. Would it be worth it?"

I don't know, maybe it's a silly question...


----------



## carpedavid

Hmm. These people were nice to the party. They're obviously evil   .


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Or they will be dead soon.  Somehow either of those seems to happen.

GW


----------



## Piratecat

Naathez said:
			
		

> This is in no way criticism - more like fascination at a moral doubt.
> Did any of Abernathy's Company consider that by solving the problem of the Slices.. they'd, in a way, be robbing this old couple of their heaven?




We sure did. But they'll still have each other, and they'll still have the farm, and the month or two in which they'll have trouble adjusting isn't worth the misery being inflicted on everyone else. Remember that baby back in Green Valley, the sixteen year old stuck in the 6 month old's body?

Uhuh.

All things considered, I think we're better off trying to set things right. But we did have some regrets about these folks. The regret was only tempered by the meta-knowledge that since they were kind to us, they would inevitably turn out to be eeevil.


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Naathez said:
			
		

> This is in no way criticism - more like fascination at a moral doubt.
> Did any of Abernathy's Company consider that by solving the problem of the Slices.. they'd, in a way, be robbing this old couple of their heaven?
> 
> Er, Ernie. I DID read what you said. But... but MY doubt, in such a situation, would be...  would the old couple still have Faith, if they discovered what they'd thought for so long to be heaven was... a mistake, a failed experiment, and not Heaven?
> 
> Someone asked, "Imagine you could make a perfect world. A world without sorrow, hunger, pain. But imagine all this cost the life of a joyous, beautiful little child. Would it be worth it?"
> 
> I don't know, maybe it's a silly question...




Or when the situation ends, their age may catch up with them, at which point they die and go to heaven. They may not even notice the difference.


----------



## Sagiro

MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> Or when the situation ends, their age may catch up with them, at which point they die and go to heaven. They may not even notice the difference.



I'd like to think that something like that happens to them.  Not necessarily that age catches up to them all at once, but that they end up living out the rest of their years, and then, like you say, have a smooth segue to the afterlife.  Not _every_ sympathetic NPC in my world is evil or comes to a bad end.  

Oh, and Mavrick, I probably never mentioned, but the Peep is a big hit.  If you go here, you can see a picture of the Peep with Elanor when she was about 6 weeks old.  Here in the Sagiro household we were all humbled by so... purple... a gift.   Thanks!

-Sagiro


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Sagiro said:
			
		

> I'd like to think that something like that happens to them.  Not necessarily that age catches up to them all at once, but that they end up living out the rest of their years, and then, like you say, have a smooth segue to the afterlife.  Not _every_ sympathetic NPC in my world is evil or comes to a bad end.
> 
> Oh, and Mavrick, I probably never mentioned, but the Peep is a big hit.  If you go here, you can see a picture of the Peep with Elanor when she was about 6 weeks old.  Here in the Sagiro household we were all humbled by so... purple... a gift.   Thanks!
> 
> -Sagiro




I have seen the pictures of her "hangin' with her peep" (my wife insisted on the purple).

As I told Kevin, I saw it in B.J.'s the same day that I saw in the story hour that she was born, it was too perfect to pass up. Especially for a fellow Aquarius.


----------



## the Jester

I love Dranko.  He's great.  His attitude is fantastic.


----------



## Plane Sailing

I really like the opportunity that we've had to see the growth in Dranko. It is easy to mistake his behaviour for plain old reckless licking and wench-watching, and miss the depths he has - such as distracting the Marilith from One Certain Step while she was escorting them, and the reasons he just gave to the Company for his behaviour before Tapheon.

He still looks as shallow as he always was, but that tends to stop us (and indeed the company) recognise his depths.

Bravo Dranko.


----------



## Hammerhead

I'm not sure there's really much growth in Dranko, per se, as that Dranko thrives on being underestimated. He's so good at it that he manages to fool his friends from time to time.


----------



## Plane Sailing

Don't you think Dranko is growing? He certainly seems to be to me. I'm not saying he is deep all the time, but there are increasing flashes of it compared to how he used to be. More thought behind his taunts and jests. 

Just my perception though.


----------



## Ashy

Excellent update, Sagiro - just goes to show us that not every awesome update is filled with verbal fencing with demons or chaos critters gettin' their rumps roasted....


----------



## shilsen

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> Don't you think Dranko is growing? He certainly seems to be to me. I'm not saying he is deep all the time, but there are increasing flashes of it compared to how he used to be. More thought behind his taunts and jests.
> 
> Just my perception though.



 That's definitely the sense I get, especially from the last two updates.


----------



## Piratecat

It may be worth weighing in here. Warning: optional overly complex character overanalysis follows. Read at your own peril.  

[sblock]Dranko's initial personality is based on one of my best friends in high school. This was a guy with an astonishingly fast mind who was adopted into a family that didn't entirely know how to cope with him. For my friend, doing poorly in school was a form of rebellion because class was so easy for him; why should he try, if it was more fun to be disruptive? He knew he could do the work and saw no reason to prove it to anyone. But fundamentally he was insecure, and he took that weakness and made it into a wall to keep other people out.

And thus, Dranko: rejected by family and reviled for being a half-orc, he took all that anger and turned it into a spiral of self-destruction. He'd disobey, the scarbearers would punish him with their torture in an attempt to bring him closer to God, and he'd disobey again just to stubborningly prove to the Scarbearers that they couldn't get to him. When he became of age and took to the streets, he was a big mass of streetwise anger hiding some crippling loneliness that he wouldn't even acknowledge. Most of the things he'd do were done not to impress others, but to reassure himself that he could somehow matter in the world, that he wasn't the inconsequential loser that he had been labeled for twelve years. More than anything else, Dranko wanted to _matter_, and he didn't care what he tossed into the pond just so long as he made waves.  He could just as easily have been recruited by Sagiro and the sharshun, with no moral qualms whatsoever.

Enter Abernathy and the Company, the first real family he'd ever experienced. Ernie's influences (among others) gave Dranko something of a moral compass, and he gradually turned from neutral to neutral good roughly two years into the campaign.  Nowadays he's still plenty shallow -- there's nothing that a good treasure bath or ass-kicking can't improve -- but he's developed a very strong set of ethics and morals. They just happen to be sort of flexible in areas like the possession of individual property. He's developed far more empathy for other people, and the surprising result is that he no longer fears death in a good cause. Deflecting the marilith's scorn was almost a reflex to him; he's been harangued by the best, and had no doubt that Step would do the same for him as well.

Luckily for all of us, he's still not especially bright. Aravis's cat reminds him of this on almost a weekly basis.

I think of it this way. Originally, Dranko was like strolling across a beach knee-deep in the surf: shallow, with some sharp stuff you might step on because you couldn't see it. Nowadays he's still like that, but you have a chance of stepping into the hidden depths of a sinkhole and briefly getting dunked over your head. That doesn't mean the rest of the water isn't shallow, just that you have some areas you'll want to watch out for.[/sblock]


----------



## Ashy

And that, my friends is the kind of character analysis that makes for a glorious role-playing experience!    Want to know why this SH is so good - that is just one little slice of a big, juicy, wonderful roleplaying pie!!!


----------



## KidCthulhu

I don't remember the precise moment Dranko realized that we wouldn't leave him just because he's rude and offensive; that we were neither scared off by his act, or planning on abandoning him.  There may have been no particular moment.  But his gradual emergence from his shell has been a beautiful thing to watch.  He's still got the mannarisms, but the anger and fear behind them is gone (with a few aforementioned sinkholes).

As Ernie says, "He's just an old softie, really".


----------



## Jackylhunter

Quick Bump


----------



## Piratecat

Just a quick thank you to StephenAC for his wonderful pdf version of this story hour (linked from the first post on the first page). I had to find fiddly bits of prophecy, and his pdfs made it MUCH easier. 

Now, all we have to do is decipher 'em.


----------



## StevenAC

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Just a quick thank you to StephenAC for his wonderful pdf version of this story hour (linked from the first post on the first page). I had to find fiddly bits of prophecy, and his pdfs made it MUCH easier.



Glad to be of service to the Company... 



> Now, all we have to do is decipher 'em.



Can't help you there, I'm afraid.  But I look forward to seeing the results...


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Hmmm, now that PC has dropped that hint, perhaps we should go back through and post all the little bits of prophecy to see what he might be talking about...


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Just a quick thank you to StephenAC for his wonderful pdf version of this story hour (linked from the first post on the first page). I had to find fiddly bits of prophecy, and his pdfs made it MUCH easier.
> 
> Now, all we have to do is decipher 'em.




The "fiddly bits" are always the best part.


----------



## Fade

What's the group calling itself these days? You were Abernathy's Company, then briefly Ozilinsh's Company I believe, but since neither Abernathy or Ozilinsh ever existed what name do you use? Are you just The Company?


----------



## KidCthulhu

We're really just The Company now.  We were Ozalinch's Company, but Arvavis sucked the Arch Magi-ness out of the Arch Magi we kind of went on our own.  We still report to the Spire, of course.  When we're in the same time line as they are...


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 240*_
*Dream a Little Dream*

For the remainder of the day the Company wanders across a charming landscape, past wide meadows of wildflowers and through small deciduous forests teeming with birds and squirrels.  Morningstar comments offhandedly that maybe the Lord of the Roses has set up individual heavens for people, and that’s why he is reluctant for the Slices to be broken apart.  No one really believes that, though, not even Morningstar.  

As the oversized sun starts to set they spot the expected glimmer of blue light on a barren hilltop.  A close investigation suggests that nothing has gone through this Way, in either direction, for a long, long time, if ever.  Dranko volunteers to be the scout; he ties the rope around his waist and jumps through.

His first sensation (upon arrival) is that he’s floating, but not falling.  In the distance he hears the faint sounds of a great battle, swords clanking and voices shouting battle-cries.  Around him swirls a thick mist, but almost immediately an image starts to coalesce in front of him.   The image becomes solid.  It’s a row of close-set vertical bars like those of a prison cell.  A human face appears at the bars, hands grab them, and the man shouts at Dranko:  “Let me out!”   

Before Dranko can respond, the others pull him back.  

“Well, that’s unusual,” he says, before describing his experience to the others.  When he finishes, he realizes that there was something familiar about that place.  And it comes to him: it felt like Ava Dormo!

That obviously intrigues Morningstar,  enough so that she wants to scout it out herself.   Dranko ties the rope around her waist, and in she goes.    

Her experience is slightly different than Dranko’s.   Like him she finds herself floating in mist, but it’s much less thick.  (Or, maybe, she just has an easier time seeing through it.)  It feels like Ava Dormo, but sharper, more intense than normal.   The sound of distant battle rings clearly from somewhere out of sight.

A small child looms in the mist and walks by, a handful of balloons dragging behind him.  The child notices Morningstar and smiles at her.

“Hello!” says the child.

“Hello,” replies Morningstar, nodding.

“You’re not part of my dream,” says the child solemnly. 

“No,” agrees Morningstar.  “I’m part of my own dream.”

“Would you like a balloon?” asks the child.

“Sure,” answers Morningstar.   And taking the balloon, she thanks him.

“You’re welcome... no!   Wait!  Don’t wake me up yet!”

The child vanishes.  His balloons start to fade almost immediately, including the one Morningstar is holding.  Instinctively she concentrates on it, willing it to stay solid.   Such a manipulation of the Dream is easy for her, and the feeling of manifesting that power has a kind of clarity in her mind that Ava Dormo usually lacks.  

Another image swims in front of her.  It’s a being like a huge praying mantis, larger than a person.  It looks as though it’s slapping at an invisible enclosure, like a mime.   Before she can address it, the others pull her out.

“I wonder if that’s a slice of Dream,” she muses, after describing her experience to the others.   And if that were true, then she was in Ava Dormo in her actual, waking body!

“Let’s go back!” she says excitedly.  

“We’ll have to cross it one way or another,” says Grey Wolf, shrugging his shoulders.

But the general consensus is that the trip will better wait until the next morning.   They make camp and Ernie prepares dinner.   Over a relaxing meal, talk turns to light topics like planar theory and the makeup of the cosmos.  Aravis tries to remember anything he leaned about Ava Dormo in his apprenticeship, but only recalls the general prevailing theory that it's one of the Coterminous Planes, similar to the Astral and Ethereal.  There are obvious differences, of course, such as how one _gets_ there...

Dranko lies on his back looking up at the stars, listening to Aravis dredge up memories.  During a lull, he says, “Remember back at the Eye of the Storm, when Medina said the stars were really giant balls of flaming gas?  What kind of crap was that, anyhow?”

“I thought it was a fascinating theory,” says Morningstar lying next to him and holding his hand.  

“Yeah, if you want to make up stupid stuff,” guffaws Dranko.

“It’s as possible as anything else,” says Morningstar patiently.

“No it’s not!” pipes up Flicker.  “Look at how tiny they are!”

“When we’re flying high up,” says Morningstar,  “and you look down at demons, they look really small, right?”

“Yeah, but...” says Flicker lamely.  “...er, how big are we talking here? And how far away?”

“Pretty far,” says Morningstar.

Flicker does some quick mental calculations and voices his conclusion:  “There isn’t that far!”

“Wait a minute,” says Aravis.  “If the stars _are_ giant balls of gas very far away, and this Slice is only a few miles on a side, how do we see stars at all?  Or suns, for that matter?”

That’s a head-scratcher and no mistake.  One by one the Company falls asleep pondering that mystery, most just chalking it up to the wonders of Wild Magic.   The only sounds as they sleep are the chirping of crickets and the rustle of a night breeze.  

It sure beats demons.


* *

The next morning  it’s _owl’s wisdoms_ for everyone, in anticipation of going into Ava Dormo.   A typical battery of buffs follows, and without further ado the Company hops through the Way.

They find themselves standing on cobblestone pavement, stretching away into the mists as far as they can see in every direction.   Architecturally impossible buildings are scattered haphazardly around them.  Flitting around and through the buildings are glimpses of creatures, though none with enough substance or duration to observe with any satisfaction.  

“I’ve been in a city in a bottle, and I’ve been in the Abyss, and I’ve been in someone else’s dreams,” says Dranko.  “And my grandfather said I’d never amount to anything.”

Everyone hears the faint sounds of a great battle, maybe a quarter mile off.  

A large pit opens up almost directly in front of them, and from its depths they hear a voice calling, “Help!  Help!”  (No one is sure of the language, but everyone can understand it.)  Peering down into the pit they see a small goblinoid creature with green skin and wild eyes.  Its fingers scrabble uselessly on the walls.

It notices the facies looking down upon it, and cries “I can’t get out!  I’ve been stuck down here for so long!”

“You just appeared, just now,” says Ernie confusedly. 

“You’re dreaming,” says Morningstar.

“No, you don’t understand!”  shouts the goblin.  “I’ve been...”

“You’re dreaming,” repeats Morningstar firmly.  “Wake up!”

“You mean I...” says the goblin, and then it disappears.

“If anyone attacks me, I know what I’m telling ‘em,” says Dranko.

He starts to say more, but stops when he sees the rest of the party staring upward.   A small globe of yellow light glides downward toward them, and from it speaks a pleasant voice of indeterminate gender.

“What’s going on here!” exclaims the voice.  “Who is... oh!  Excuse me!”

The ball of light extends and grows into a glowing humanoid shape.  It turns to Morningstar and bows low.

“We don’t get solid visitors very often,” it says.

“What are you?” asks Dranko.

“I am Dream Essence,” it answers.  “And you, you are waking people!  You must be very far from home.  How did you get here?”

Dranko points to the blue Way behind them.

“That’s a portal to the waking world,” he says.

“I sometimes visit Ava Dormo from there, back in my own world,” says Morningstar.

“Of course you do,” says the Dream Essence.  “You’re a Dreamwalker.  I can see that.”

“And you are the essence of dream?” asks Morningstar.

“I’m one of them,” it replies.

“Are you a good dream, or a bad dream?” asks Ernie.

“Both, I suppose,” it answers.  “It is out of my essence that all dreams are spun.”

“Tell me,” asks Dranko, “is there another one of these blue portals, elsewhere in Dream?”

“Yes, there is.”  The Dream Essence points into the mist.

“Would you lead us there?” asks Morningstar.  

“I’d be honored,” it answers.

Kibi asks, “What is that sound of battle that we hear?

“That is what we do in this part of the Dream,” says the Essence.  “Here is where there are dreams of battles fought.   Exultations of battles won.  Nightmares of battles lost.  Would you like to take part?”

“Is it dangerous for my companions?” asks Morningstar.

“It might be,” concedes the Essence. 

“I don’t think it’s worth it, then,” says Aravis, and the others are inclined to agree.

A hallway appears.  A halfling-sized  creature is running through it frantically, bouncing off the walls as if he’s looking desperately for something.   He doesn’t see the party though he passes quite close before fading away into the mists.

“Where are these minds coming from?” asks Morningstar.  “Is there a waking world associated with this part of the Dream?”

“There must be,” says the Essence, “but there shouldn’t be.  We are in a part of the Dreaming far from any waking minds.  We are far adrift.  We are where dream battles are fought.  But yes, there are minds ending up here, though we don’t know where they come from.”

“There has been a terrible experiment that has scrambled many planes,” says Morningstar. 

“Perhaps that is why no new combatants have come for so long,” says the Essence. 

“The minds you see here,” says Morningstar .  “Are they the same minds, over and over?”

“There are some we see recurring, but there is constant influx of new dreamers.  There is a common theme among the dreams of these dreamers, though.  They are all trapped, and wish to get out, but out of what, I don’t know.

“They’re the dreams of all the people who are trapped in Het Branoi,” says Dranko, and the others nod in agreement.

“People have been trapped in small bits of their waking worlds, some of them for many years,” explains Morningstar. 

“And this is where they come to dream,” says Aravis.  “It may be the only part of Dream they can find.”

“Do you see many creatures that look like large spiders?” asks Morningstar curiously, thinking of the Vree.

The Essence nods.  

“I’ll bet the Vree have been dreaming a lot about tentacles recently,” says Dranko.

“How did you know?” asks the Essence.

“We were there for the incident that caused them to have those dreams,” says Dranko with a shudder.

“Whatever is happening, you should stop it,” says the Essence.  “It’s not the way things should work here.”

“If we succeed, it should restore your bit of Dream to the whole,” says Dranko.  “You’ll get new dreamers again.”

“If I go into the Dream connected to my Prime, and traveled far enough, would I reach here?” asks Morningstar, growing more intrigued all the time.

“You would have to travel a very, very long way,” says the Essence.  “I don’t understand the waking world very well.  I believe there are places you can go that are very far from your... Prime.  Out in misty reaches where nothing is real and solid.  Even those places have a dreaming, and this is one of those places.”  

“Do you ever see Dreamwalkers?” asks Morningstar.

“From time to time, they do travel far enough, and we see them here.   Once in a century, maybe?”

“Are they Ellish?” asks Morningstar.

“Ellish?  None that I have seen,” says the Essence.

“Any in red armor?” asks Ernie.

“There was a group of dreamers from some battle, and they were wearing red armor,” says the Essence.  “They were shorter than you, of a race that called themselves “kobolds.”   They wore reddish leather armor, that they painted with the blood of their enemies.”

In other words, no.

“So, your role is to create the battles that the dreamers come to fight?” asks Morningstar.

“When people are in battles, their dreams are very strong, and echoes of those dreams come here.  We are like a magnet.”

Morningstar describes the battle that she and her fellow Dreamwalkers fought against Octesian, and asks the Essence if it sounds familiar. 

“Yes, I’ve seen one like that,” the Essence replies.  “It still goes on, in another part of the Dreaming.  That battle made a strong impression on many dreamers.”

“Let’s go find Octesian and kick his butt again!” says Ernie.

“The Dream you talk about, and the events that created it, are long over,” says the Essence.   “But I will take you there, if you wish.”

The Company  follows the Dream Essence, trying to will themselves forward to go faster.   They have differing success, though it’s clearly (and unsurprisingly) Flicker and Snokas who slow them down.

“Think faster!” urges Morningstar.

Eventually a battle comes into view, but it’s not their battle.  As they look down upon it from a high vantage point, it  resembles a contest between an army of giants and an army of huge fireflies.  The giants are firing stones from enormous catapults, and the projectiles are blinking in and out.  The fireflies attack with energy rays as they fly above the giants. 

“Those are dreams, not dreamers,” clarifies the Essence.  “As I said, we usually don’t see dreamers here; just the echoes of dreams of war.   The terrain here is the terrain of many battles, that people have dreamed on which they fought.”

“So this is history... a record of battles,” says Morningstar.  “Which means that somewhere is a record of every battle that has been fought.   We could use this place to research a battle fought a long time ago.”

“Yes,” agrees the Essence.  “If you could find the battle you wanted, you could watch it unfold, from the collective dreams of the beings involved.”

They continue to travel, led by the Dream Essence, toward the exiting Way, stopping only to wake up some trapped dreamers.    Most of the dreams are similar – beings of all different races, trapped in prisons from which they cannot escape.   The sounds of battles never go away.  

“Is there a Dream Essence in my part of Ava Dormo?” asks Morningstar as they travel.  “Like you?”

“It would not have consciousness, but it’s there.  It has to be.”  

“Do you have a unique identity?  A name?” asks Dranko.

The Essence shakes its head.

“Well, thank you for all your help,” says Morningstar.

“It is my honor,” says the Essence.

They reach the Way after some mentally-draining hours.  Before them is a glowing door, all too familiar.  Aravis volunteers to be the scout and wills himself through.

After the black void, he finds himself standing in what was probably a library.  There are stacks, desks, and shelves, but they have been emptied of their books and scrolls.  Only a few scraps of paper remain.  The walls are of the blue-diamond pattern that they’ve seen three times before – the bedroom, cloakroom and storage room.  Torches imbued with _continual flame_ shine from wall-brackets. 

Behind him is the blue Way through which he came, and about sixty feet away, straight ahead of him down a wide aisle, is a second Way.

It’s not blue, and it’s not gray.   It glows a deep red, the color of a rose in full flower.  

...to be continued...


----------



## Dawn

<“Are you a good dream, or a bad dream?” asks Ernie.>
Ala The Wizard of Oz!

I've been following this SH since many moons ago and I just can't help but be constantly amazed at the vastness of this world!  So many things to encounter and so many different things to interact with. 

Just (another) kudo to both Sagiro and the Company for an enjoyable SH.


----------



## Piratecat

Things are about to get interesting. Er.  Interestinger.  More interesting.  Whatever.

Unfortunate mistake #1: we distrusted everything Lord Taffeon said so much, that we didn't go in there armed for bear the way we should have.


----------



## Enkhidu

Piratecat said:
			
		

> ...Unfortunate mistake #1: we distrusted everything Lord Taffeon said so much, that we didn't go in there armed for bear the way we should have.




aka "The enemy of my enemy is not necessarily my friend."


----------



## KidCthulhu

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Unfortunate mistake #1: we distrusted everything Lord Taffeon said so much, that we didn't go in there armed for bear the way we should have.




Yeah, who knew Sagiro would sic a bear on us.


----------



## Delemental

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Yeah, who knew Sagiro would sic a bear on us.




So, are you saying that the Company is about to meet a grizzly fate?


----------



## RangerWickett

Stop with the puns. I can't bear them.


----------



## el-remmen

Well, if there is some kind of major carnage coming up I would sure like some kind of indication that it is coming, but not a spoiler, just some kind of primitive gesture, some kind of ur-sign.


----------



## Enkhidu

el-remmen said:
			
		

> ... just some kind of primitive gesture, some kind of ur-sign...




I would second that, though I would only want something a bit more minor.


----------



## blargney the second

Does the Lord of Roses live in the Pandamonic Wastes or something?


----------



## Softwind

Enkhidu said:
			
		

> aka "The enemy of my enemy is not necessarily my friend."




/Lurk off

Or should that be "The enemy of my enemy is not neccessarily my fiend?"

/Lurk on

/Lurk off briefly.  Thank you Sagiro  /Lurk on again


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 241*_
*Lord of the Roses*

Aravis spends minimal time observing the red Way.  He steps back into the blue Way and returns to the Slice of Ava Dormo.   After a brief consultation he goes back with Morningstar, to stand guard while she drops a few _thought captures_.  

Once in the library Morningstar first casts _detect thoughts_, but there are no minds other than Aravis’s and her own.  While Aravis stays back, Morningstar slowly walks down the aisle toward the glowing red portal.   Her eyes stray to the empty shelves, which are coated with dust and give the room a desolate aura.  Between and behind them she sees the blue-diamond walls.

When she is only twenty feet from the Way, she is startled by a woman who steps silently out from behind the last shelf on the left.   The woman is dressed like a simple commoner, in a plain peasant skirt and blouse, but Morningstar’s attention is drawn immediately to her eyes – or the lack thereof.  There are bulging rubies protruding from the woman’s eye sockets, though they seem to be causing her no discomfort.   The formation of the crystals reminds both Aravis and Morningstar of the huge lizard inhabited by the Purple Eye, and the skeleton possessed by the Green.  

“Where is Kibilhathur Bimson?” asks the woman, as Aravis hurries up.  Her voice is an earnest monotone.  

With a start, Morningstar realizes that she’s not detecting any thoughts from the peasant.

“He will be here soon,” says Aravis.

“Bring him,” says the peasant woman.  “Please bring Kibilhathur Bimson.  My lord wishes it.”

There’s something disturbing about the way she pronounces Kibi’s name.  It’s not menacing, or threatening, but somehow she conveys eagerness without raising her voice.  

“Will you tell me your lord’s purpose?” asks Morningstar.

“Please bring Kibilhathur Bimson,” says the woman.  It’s not entirely certain she heard the question.

“Why do you need him?” asks Aravis.

“I do not need him,” says the woman, her expression flat.

“Why does your _lord_ need him?” asks Morningstar patiently.

“He has not shared that with me.  Please bring Kibilhathur Bimson.”

“Yes, I hear you,’ says Morningstar with a sigh.  “I understand you.”

“Please bring Kibilhathur Bimson immediately,” repeats the woman.

“We will go and tell him,” promises Morningstar, and before the woman can present her demand a sixth time, she and Aravis walk back down the library aisle and through the blue Way.  They share this new development with the others.

“Eyes,” says Kibi, addressing Scree, “If you have any advice, this would be a good time.”

“Nothing,” says Scree.  “They’ll talk if they feel like it.”

Kibi tries a more direct approach.  He reaches into his familiar and pulls out the two Eyes of Moirel, gripping one in each hand.  He feels a shiver run through his body, as if the Eyes are vibrating slightly, but they remain silent.

“I can tell you’re agitated,” says Kibi to the Eyes.  “So are we.  Any information you have about what we’re up against would be greatly appreciated.”

They still don’t answer, but Grey Wolf mutters, “I _really_ don’t want to hear that the Eyes are ‘agitated.’”

“It probably means they sense they’re close to another Eye,” speculates Aravis.

Without warning Dranko hops through the Way.  He sees the same library hallway, and the woman standing in front of the red Way at the far end.   Immediately he hops back.

“Just wanted to make sure there weren’t five undead hydras waiting for us this time,” he explains.

The Company spends a few final minutes reviewing the Solfar transcriptions of the Mad Sculptor before casting some preparatory spells and, with the sounds of dream-battles still echoing behind them, hopping _en masse_ through the Way.   

The woman is still there, standing patiently.

“I have brought Kibilhathur Bimson to you!” Morningstar calls to her.  

Kibi himself feels tingly now, and  Scree reports the Eyes are vibrating more quickly.  Morningstar puts a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder and can actually _feel_ the slight tremor in his body.  Of course, everyone then wants to find out what that feels like.

“Wow!” exclaims Dranko, his hand on Kibi’s head.  “He really _is_ tingly!”

Flicker reaches for the beard, which is when Kibi decides he’s had enough.

“Hey!  Hands off the beard!” exclaims the dwarf.

“Yeah,” says Aravis.  “Didn’t you read the words of the Sculptor?  He’s touchy about the beard.”

“Wow,” says Flicker.  “Those Black Circle guys really know what they’re talking about!”

Morningstar turns to One Certain Step and asks solemnly, “Step, are you ready?”

“Yes,” answers the paladin.  “I don’t yet understand what my role will be, but yes, I am.  Thank you.”

Dranko puts an arm on Snokas's shoulder and with mock seriousness asks, “Snokas, are you ready?”

Snokas gives a snorting laugh.   “Yep.  I never understand _anything_, but that’s never stopped me before.”

Step smiles.

Ernie casts _true seeing_ but notes nothing different except Kibi himself.  The dwarf looks blurry to Ernie, and ambient magic in the air is being drawn into and through his body.

The Company approaches the peasant woman with the ruby eyes.

“What are your Lord’s intentions toward us?” asks Kibi.

“Kibilhathur Bimson,” says the woman.  Her eyes glow just a bit more brightly.  “Come through.”

“Will we be harmed?” asks Kibi suspiciously.

“No.  But your friends must wait here.  My Lord wants Kibilhathur Bimson only.”

“I would prefer to have my friends with me,” says Kibi.

“Only Kibilhathur Bimson,” insists the woman.

“And if I refuse?” asks Kibi.

“You must come alone,” says the woman, avoiding the question.

“No way,” says Scree to Kibi.  “Nuh uh.  No.  Forget it.”

“What’s your name?” asks Kibi, buying some time to think.

“My name is no longer important.  Kibilhathur Bimson,  you must come alone.”

“What’s with the freakish eyes?” asks Dranko.

“You are not relevant,” answers the woman, though her head still points at Kibi.  “My Lord wants Kibilhathur Bimson.”

“If you want him, you’ll have to come through me,” Dranko growls.

“We mean no harm to you, but I want to stay with my friends,” says Kibi.

“Very well.”  The woman stands to the side, seemingly conceding the point.  Of course, the Company suspects treachery, and so decides to send in a scouting force that does _not_ include Kibilhathur Bimson.  Dranko, Ernie, Aravis, Flicker and Step go into the red Way.

There’s the typical second or two of blackness, as they feel themselves getting sucked toward their destination.  But there’s a new sensation that follows, as if they have been shunted to the side and then turned around.  A second after that they find themselves emerging from the same Way as they entered, into the library.

“That was quick,” says Kibi.

“We never got there,” says Dranko.  “We went forward, but then got sidetracked, turned around, paddled on the behind, and sent back here.”

“I’m not going to go meet the Lord of the Roses if I can’t bring my friends with me,” says Kibi to the woman.

Scree stirs, and his voice sounds deep and powerful in Kibi’s mind, a sure sign that one of the Eyes of Moirel is addressing him.

“If we go through, we will fix things for the others,” says the Eye of Moirel. 

Thinking they understand what this means, a new group goes through the Way, including Kibi.  The dwarf goes through with Morningstar, Aravis, Ernie and Step, all of them holding hands so that Kibi doesn’t get “filtered” by the journey between Slices.

They feel the pulling, and all of them but Kibi feel the sideways wrenching experienced by the last group.  Despite their best efforts all of their hands are forcefully separated, and there is a moment of panic, but then there is a second lurching course-correction, and all five of them are deposited into a large room that is not the library.

Kibi notes first, with relief, that his friends are by his side.   They stand at one end of a long, sumptuously opulent audience chamber.  The floors and walls are of a white marble veined with streaks of ruby, and mounted on the walls are a number of decorative swords and shields.  On one of the side walls, near the far end of the room, are a pair of huge wooden doors, closed, with polished brass handles.  Directly above their heads the ceiling is only ten feet high, but that’s because they’re standing under some kind of overhang; were they to take a few steps forward into the chamber, the vaulted ceiling would rise above them almost a hundred feet, supported by huge marble pillars. 

At the far end of the audience chamber are wide steps leading up to a long dais.   A humanoid figure stands there, glowing with a white light that makes it impossible to see him or her as anything more than a blurry silhouette.  The figure holds a staff, and the white glow extends along its length, becoming a bright red at its tip.  Ernie, squinting with _true seeing_, can tell that the magic of the staff is the same sort that flows through Kibi, only much, much stronger.  

Curled around the humanoid’s feet is a huge bronze-colored snake, twenty feet long at least and glinting in the light of the humanoid figure.   There is one other person in the room – a second peasant woman sits at a wooden table in a far corner of the chamber.  She is hooded and hunched over, her face hidden.  Ernie can tell there are spells upon her, but not anything specific about them.

Kibi feels his whole body hum with power.

“How are you feeling, Scree?” he thinks to his familiar.

“Something is happening to the Eyes,” says Scree nervously.  “I can’t tell what.”

The glowing figure picks his way around the coils of the copper snake.  At the bottom of the stairs it takes a step toward them, then stops, lurching unsteadily.   Scree’s body starts to roil.  The second half of the Company arrives through the Way,  in time to hear Ernie speak.

“Excuse me!” says Ernie.  “Are you the Lord of the Roses?”

A voice sounds from the light, a male voice.  It is tinny, as if coming from far away.

“Scree!” says the figure.  “Come forward, Scree!  Bring me the...”

His voice cuts off as if he’s choking, and Scree erupts into redness.   For just a second it seems as if all of Scree’s component rocks have either become, or been replaced by, bright rubies.  But then they are partially replaced by a similar outbreak of bright green emeralds and deep purple amethysts.  Within three seconds he has become a turbulent mass of red, purple and green gemstones.

“I have nothing to do with this,” says Scree to Kibi.

The staff flies from the figure’s hand, as if with a life of its own.  It soars high toward the vaulted ceiling and hovers there, pointing down directly at Scree.  With the staff removed from the white glow of its wielder, the Company can see that crystalline red flowers adorn its length, and that a bright red gemstone shines from its top.  

With the departure of the staff, the glow also fades from the man who had been holding it.  The Lord of the Roses’ features are revealed, and the party stands agog.  Surely they are being deceived.

It’s Sagiro Emberleaf.  

...to be continued...


----------



## the Jester

Sagiro said:
			
		

> _*The Lord of the Roses’ features are revealed, and the party stands agog.  Surely they are being deceived.
> 
> It’s Sagiro Emberleaf.
> 
> ...to be continued...*_



_*


HAW HAW HAW!!!!*_


----------



## RangerWickett

This, you see, is when Dorian mysteriously vanishes forever, leaving us to never learn the end of the story.

So wow. How long did you hold off bringing him back?  Six years?  More?  I will, as a fellow DM, of course assume that you'd planned for this to happen all along, and not that Sagiro has only returned because you knew we'd think it was cool. Though that excuse works too.  *grin*


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Sagiro said:
			
		

> _*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 241*_
> *Lord of the Roses*
> 
> 
> It’s Sagiro Emberleaf.




You recorded this moment right?

The group's reaction when you said those words must have been priceless.


----------



## Thornir Alekeg

Sagiro said:
			
		

> With the departure of the staff, the glow also fades from the man who had been holding it.  The Lord of the Roses’ features are revealed, and the party stands agog.  Surely they are being deceived.
> 
> It’s Sagiro Emberleaf.




Excuse me while I pick my jaw up off the floor.  Absolutely brilliant!


----------



## Dakkareth

Shame on me, but could someone enlighten me to the significance of that? It's been a long time since I read the early records of the company ...


----------



## KidCthulhu

Oh, it was classic.  When Sagiro (the NPC, not the person) dissapeared, we spent _years_ joking that every bad guy we met was him.  Then, when they weren't and the joke got old, we stopped doing it.

And only then did Sagiro (the Rat Bastard, not the NPC) bring him back.

Dumbfounded doesn't begin to describe it.


----------



## Fade

Refresh my memory about Sagiro? I'm getting him confused with Parthol.


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Fade said:
			
		

> Refresh my memory about Sagiro? I'm getting him confused with Parthol.




From the "Abernathy’s Company, Dramatis Personae",

"Sagiro Emberleaf, a.k.a "the Weasel" - an  apparent collector, known to be working with the Sharshun; deceased?"

It's not Sagiro's (the DM's) fault that the party decided not to "travel to nowhere" after Sagiro (The Weasel) till now.   

p.s. according to the Charagen Campaign website, this November your group will reach 10 years real time


----------



## thatdarncat

when I opened the thread, I opened the bottom of the page. I avoided reading any spoilers I scrolled up, until the second last line of Sagiro's post. 

*bangs head on desk* that's like peeking at a movie trailer before you see the movie


----------



## Enkhidu

What's the chance of you piping that taped session into an mp3 so that we might hear the shock and awe at the table after that little revelation?


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Fade said:
			
		

> Refresh my memory about Sagiro? I'm getting him confused with Parthol.




He's one of the party's first nemesis (nemesese?) - I think he was probably the first one who established the "polite=enemy" pattern that is often remarked on.  Looking back at the old logs, he first showed up in session number 3, I think.  He was believed killed, but his body was never found...


----------



## Sagiro

Fade said:
			
		

> Refresh my memory about Sagiro? I'm getting him confused with Parthol.




Sagiro "The Weasel" Emberleaf was first seen in Tal Hae, an apparent mercenary who hired on to help protect the same merchant wagon as the Company, on a trip from Tal Hae to Calnis.  It was later learned that the merchant hired the Company at the _urging_ of Sagiro; for some reason, the mustachioed one wanted to get to know Abernathy's gang.  As Kid Charlemage said, that was Run #3.

In the first series of adventures, Sagiro was an off-the-screen figure of great annoyance.  The Company was sent by Abernathy to procure a cursed magic item, only to find that Sagiro had already been there and had bought it first.   When the Company was then sent to retrieve the _Matun Essendi_, they had to fight off some competing thieves who they later learned were working for Sagiro.  

The Weasel next turned up at the Mirrors of Semek, where the Company had been sent to observe "Flashing Day."  That was the day a Sharshun vanished in the center of the Mirrors while holding an Eye of Moirel.   The Company suspected Sagiro of being involved, but couldn't prove anything.  That was Run #14.

The Company's next meeting with Sagiro was at the auction in Minok, where an Eye of Moirel was up for bidding.  Sagiro was in the auction house, though he didn't actually bid on the Eye.  After the auction, the Company helped Sarai (who had won the Eye fair and square) fight off some attackers who included one of the other bidders.  When that bidder was questioned, he admitted to the party that he was working for Sagiro and the Sharshun.  That was Run #29.

Finally, about a year into their adventuring career, the Company was sent to Longtooth Keep to secure yet another Eye of Moirel (that turned out to be the green one.)  Sagiro showed up and attempted to steal it, but in the ensuing battle he was knocked off a steep mountainside by a _lightning bolt._  His body fell into a raging river far below, and that was the last the Company saw of him, until he showed up as the Lord of the Roses.   

In real time, Sagiro fell off the cliff in 1997 (Run #43), and wasn't seen again until 2004 (Run #169).   His reemergence in Het Branoi was long planned, and a tough secret to keep for so many years.  

-Sagiro (the DM)


----------



## Redwald

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Finally, about a year into their adventuring career, the Company was sent to Longtooth Keep to secure yet another Eye of Moirel (that turned out to be the green one.)  Sagiro showed up and attempted to steal it, but in the ensuing battle he was knocked off a steep mountainside by a _lightning bolt._  His body fell into a raging river far below, and that was the last the Company saw of him, until he showed up as the Lord of the Roses.
> 
> In real time, Sagiro fell off the cliff in 1997 (Run #43), and wasn't seen again until 2004 (Run #169).   His reemergence in Het Branoi was long planned, and a tough secret to keep for so many years.




Bravo, Sagiro.  Had I been one of your players, I no doubt would have goaded you into bringing him back -- or so I'd have thought -- by calling the site of Sagiro (Emberleaf)'s disappearance as "Reichenbach Falls".


----------



## Zustiur

There had better be a damned good explanation of how the Weasel survived falling off a cliff, and how he managed to be transported into an alternate time line, AND how he got into Het Brannoi.

I wouldn't be surprised if the first is tied to the second.

Zustiur.


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Going back through the PDF's, I find this interesting bit from the Eyes of Moirel, speaking through Eddings:



			
				Eyes of Moirel said:
			
		

> HE IS IN THE HOUSE OF HET BRANOI, BEYOND THE GATE OF FIRE, AND HE CANNOT RETURN ON HIS OWN. THE CANARY HAS ENTRAPPED THE CAT. RETURN HIM TO US, SO YOU MIGHT WALK IN THE FOOTPRINTS OF MOIREL.




The "He" appears to refer to a third Eye of Moirel.  I'm guessing the Canary is the Eye as well, and that the Cat refers to Sagiro.  He cannot return on his own - because of the nature of the slices.

The "Gate of Fire" could refer to the Red gate that leads to the Lord of the Roses.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Kid Charlemagne said:
			
		

> The "He" appears to refer to a third Eye of Moirel.  I'm guessing the Canary is the Eye as well, and that the Cat refers to Sagiro.  He cannot return on his own - because of the nature of the slices.
> 
> The "Gate of Fire" could refer to the Red gate that leads to the Lord of the Roses.





Wow, great find Kid!  Sagiro, had you created the layout of Het Branoi when you gave the Party that tidbit?  How long had Het Branoi been finished (in your head) before the party got to it?  Was it something that you had to modify as the group got more powerful??  

Cool stuff,


----------



## Sagiro

Kid Charlemagne said:
			
		

> Going back through the PDF's, I find this interesting bit from the Eyes of Moirel, speaking through Eddings:
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Eyes of Moirel said:
> 
> 
> 
> 
> HE IS IN THE HOUSE OF HET BRANOI, BEYOND THE GATE OF FIRE, AND HE CANNOT RETURN ON HIS OWN. THE CANARY HAS ENTRAPPED THE CAT. RETURN HIM TO US, SO YOU MIGHT WALK IN THE FOOTPRINTS OF MOIREL.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> The "He" appears to refer to a third Eye of Moirel.  I'm guessing the Canary is the Eye as well, and that the Cat refers to Sagiro.  He cannot return on his own - because of the nature of the slices.
> 
> The "Gate of Fire" could refer to the Red gate that leads to the Lord of the Roses.
Click to expand...



The Company had sussed the meaning of that already, and you're close, but not quite on the mark.  "He" does refer to the third Eye of Moirel, as you guess.   But the "Canary" refers to the Black Circle who built Het Branoi, and the "Cat" is also the third Eye.  (The idea being that the Eye is inherently more powerful than the Black Circle, but somehow the BC had arranged to entrap and make use of the Eye.)  The words of the Mad Sculptor back this up, as he refers to the Eye of Moirel as "my caged beast."  

The "Gate of Fire" refers to the gartine arch in Delfir (home of the fire-god worshippers), through which the Company had to travel in order to get from Charagan to Kivia in the first place.  

Now, what Sagiro is doing here, and as this "Lord of the Roses" character no less, is a separate (but highly related) mystery whose explanation will be made clear in the next few story hour posts.

-Sagiro


----------



## Abstraction

The way I see it, Sagiro could have died when he went over the falls. History has been rewritten so none of that happened, now.


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Abstraction said:
			
		

> The way I see it, Sagiro could have died when he went over the falls. History has been rewritten so none of that happened, now.




True, but Sagiro was also very involved with the folks who changed history, and which the Company kind of ignored after a certain point because they had other things they needed to focus on.  And even if he did die, it's possible the Black Circle could have brought him back, though I don't see him as being important enough to warrant such consideration.  My suspicion is that Sagiro Emberleaf is one of the very few who is aware of what has happened.  I also suspect that there is a very good chance he is utterly insane at this point.


----------



## Piratecat

I can't tell you all the places that you're right, but there are a lot of them! Sagiro being here isn't anywhere near as far-fetched as you'd think it is. . . but that will become clear.

That rat bastard DM of ours. . .

You're going to see something very interesting in the next few posts. You know how in a given fight, there's either some really brilliant tactic you can use, or you just totally miss the important point and your tactics make things a lot worse? Well, you're going to see _both_ of those.


----------



## shilsen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> That rat bastard DM of ours. . .




As the good book (LotR, of course) says, the praise of the praiseworthy is beyond all reward.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

I had wondered a few times, after he disappeared, when he would return.  Bravo.

GW


----------



## el-remmen

Finally. . .


----------



## BBQ Man

Sagiro,

I knew I remembered the name 'Wilburforce' from somewhere, and just stumbled on the 'where' a few minutes ago looking for an old tv series on DVD.  The miniseries "Under the Mountain", now I don't think you got it from there, but I thought I'd ask.  (or you just made it up, or pulled it from the wilburforce foundation)

Or has this been asked and answered and I'm blind?

thanks


----------



## KidCthulhu

Actually, it's from PG Woodhouse's fictional character Bertie Wooster, whose full name is Bertram Wilberforce Wooster.  The Jeeves novels are some of my favorite books, and pretty much anything by Woodhouse is worth reading.  The Frye/Laurie TV series adaptation aren't bad either.


----------



## Seule

PG Wodehouse is one of the best comic authors, living or dead, around.  I believe that everyone should read at least one Jeeves novel, just to know how the artform should be done.  

--Seule


----------



## Zaruthustran

Wow. Bravo. That one took me completely by surprise. I suspected the glowing figure would be Kibi and you'd have some weird splintered reality, "No, *I'm* the real Kibi!" thing going on.

Bringing back S is just way, way better. And yeah, please please post an MP3 of the Big Reveal and the table's reaction!

-z


----------



## Cor Azer

No... I'm all caught up, after not having time to read this for months, and it has to hang at this point?!

Next update, please? With Ernie-baked goods on top?


----------



## Sagiro

I have neither the time nor the technology to make an mp3 available of the "big reveal," but it would probably disappoint most of you.  There were a few seconds of "No way!"  "You're kidding," etc., and Piratecat must have said "No...!"  about half a dozen times, but the players got right down to business after that, realizing that combat was imminent.

Some of your questions should be answered in this installment.  Not all, but some.  




_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 242*_
*False Bottom*

His skin is covered with crusted patches of ruby, a red, glittering pox.   His eye sockets are filled to bulging with bright red gemstone.  Even his prized moustache is flecked with the stuff.   He opens his mouth and speaks again, but whether the sound of his voice comes from him or the staff high above, no one can say for sure.

“Get...  get my prizes!” he commands.

Dranko figures he must be addressing the peasant woman at the table, and figuring that combat is on the brink of breaking out, decides to push things over the edge.  He uncurls his whip while striding toward her and lashes her with a well-aimed strike.   But Sagiro has more allies in the room than just her and the copper snake.  Four of the swords mounted on the wall are swept up in a sudden whirlwind, where the blades turn and flash in a spinning funnel of air.  The whirlwind sweeps toward Aravis and the swords draw blood.  

Sagiro himself draws a rapier as he charges the party, unconcerned with being outnumbered.  Once the weapon is outstretched, red crystal races up his arm and grows over the blade.  He thrusts at One Certain Step and the ruby-serrated weapon easily punctures the paladin’s plate, to sink deep into his flesh.  Step grimaces in pain.

“Hey!” shouts Ernie, up the hovering staff.  “Red Eye!  We’re not your enemies!  Someone else has been using you.  We just want to set you free!”  But just in case, he casts _shield_ on himself.

Morningstar shouts, “Anyone who doesn’t want a _blade barrier_ in front of that snake, speak up now.”  No one objects and the air is soon filled with the familiar sound of whirling magical blades.  The deadly wall has the huge copper snake trapped up on the dais.   The snake rises up on its back half, metallic scales rasping on the marble floor, but it’s not long enough.  The creature moves restlessly back and forth and hisses menacingly, but decides not to test the blades.

Grey Wolf ignores Bostock’s pleas to wield it, and like Ernie casts _shield_.   Snokas has no magical preparations to make; he positions himself between Sagiro and Kibi and swings his heavy pick with all the strength he can muster.  There is a loud clink of metal-on-crystal and the pick is stopped dead.   Snokas snorts in frustration.

The _blade barrier_ vanishes, _dispelled_.  A second later a small creature appears on the edge of the dais.  It is a small, frail humanoid with an oversized head and six spindly arms.  Like Sagiro and the peasant woman, its eyes are large rubies, and various other parts of its body are crusted over with gemstone.   It becomes visible because it’s in the act of casting a _sonic fireball_ into the midst of the Company.   Wa-boom!  

Kibilhathur Bimson is experiencing something akin to a sixth sense.  He can _feel_ wild magic suffusing his being, leaving him saturated.  He is keenly aware that near his feet a titanic battle is going on, with Scree as the battlefield.  He toys with the notion of interfering with that struggle but realizes quickly that the magics there are far beyond his control or understanding.  So, instead, he replaces the absent _blade barrier_ with a more enduring _wall of force_, trapping the snake and the six-armed creature on the other side of it.  As he casts, the wild magic in the room surges through him, enhancing the spell and causing it to fire in under a second.  With the extra time he _summons_ a large earth elemental, and again the wild magic flares.  The elemental appears, and then a second one beside it.  Quite pleased with himself, Kibi commands that his elementals tie up the man with the moustache.   The two towers of elemental rock attempt to grapple Sagiro, but he dances, dodges, and manages to elude their stony grasps.    

Flicker gulps and activates his _ring of blinking_, setting the world to flickering on and off.  As before in Het Branoi he is not blinking in and out of the Ethereal Plane, but someplace more...  No.  He doesn’t want to think about it.  He moves toward the woman at the table while drawing his sword... and flinches as the hunched peasant woman at the table tosses back her hood, revealing that the entire top half of her head is a mass of red crystal.   She casts _dimension door_ and appears on the other side of the _wall of force_, standing next to the snake.  

One Certain Step ignores the pain of Sagiro’s attack and launches one himself, but as with Snokas, his sword is turned by the red crystal patches on the Weasel’s body.  He lands one feeble blow, and Sagiro sneers.  

Aravis surveys the combat with the calm reason of a seasoned adventurer.  Of the several targets to choose from,  Sagiro is well surrounded by allies, and the peasant lady is now behind a _wall of force_ with the snake.  That leaves the small-six armed spellcaster and the all-to-close whirlwind of swords...

...and the staff.

He decides to roll the dice, and they come up sixes.   His _sonic fireball_ soars into the air and detonates directly above the hovering staff tipped with the red Eye of Moirel.  Kibi sees right away that the green and purple rocks gain a moment of majority in Scree’s body, and next to Aravis the whirlwind of swords nearly flies apart, losing its cohesion.  The staff itself flies higher, rising until it scrapes the ceiling of the audience chamber.   

Everyone takes note.

Dranko casts _prayer_, and Ernie casts _divine power_, while the whirlwind of swords gets itself under control and reforms.   Sagiro faces One Certain Step, the only combatant to do him damage.  Step is just noticing that the small wound he inflicted is starting to fill in with red crystal, when Sagiro launches another attack with the rapier.  Step tries vainly to dodge and parry but Sagiro has too much strength and speed.  The Paladin’s blood starts to pool on the marble floor.

Morningstar produces an acorn, casts _chill seeds_, and hurls the missile at the hovering staff.    BOOM!  The staff spins for a moment in place.  The copper snake starts to thrash wildly, slamming itself repeatedly into the _wall of force_.  The small six-armed creature also twitches violently, its arms waving in a fashion that would be comical if... oh, heck, yeah, it _is_ comical.

Once again the Green and Purple Eyes gain a brief advantage in the battle against the Red.

“Scree?” asks Kibi.  “Does it help when we attack the staff?”

“Only temporarily, if I’m understanding things correctly,” says Scree.  “The Red Eye seems remarkably resilient.”

Grey Wolf casts _true strike_ and moves into position near Sagiro.  Bostock speaks in his mind: “Yes.  I am ready to strike!”  Snokas launches a flurry of pick attacks, all of which miss.  In the back of his mind he starts to wonder why he bothers.  

While the six-armed creature spends a few seconds composing itself and clearing its head, Kibi’s elementals again try to pile on Sagiro.  This time, though he wounds the first of the creatures to try it, the elementals manage to grapple Sagiro to the ground.   He is essentially buried beneath a pile of living rock.  Flicker darts into the rock-pile and stabs, but the blade catches on Sagiro’s crystal body and nearly snaps before he yanks it back.   Step takes the opportunity to back off and heal himself.  

Kibi fires off an empowered _lightning bolt_ at the staff.   Again the staff spins, and the woman behind the _wall of force_ clutches her half-crystal head in pain and confusion.   Aravis casts _chain lightning_, though it targets only Sagiro, since no other combatant is close enough to take a secondary bold.  But while Sagiro might be pinned beneath earth elementals, he’s still afforded a resistance to magics by his half-crystal body.   Aravis’s spell does no harm.

The same cannot be said for Dranko’s whip.   With plenty of time to line up his shots against the immobile Sagiro, he waits for his openings and cracks his whip.  Two of the strikes are perfectly placed; chunks of crystal and flesh are torn from Sagiro’s body, sending out sprays of blood.   Sagiro squirms mightily and manages to breaks the pin of the elementals, but can’t escape the grapple.

The whirlwind of swords, having gathered itself, erupts into a wide frenzy of flashing blades.  Flicker leaps and dodges, but Step, Snokas and Kibi are caught in the blender.   Ouch!  Ernie activates his _winged shield_ and flies upward toward the Eye Staff.  He can see that its made of a crystal-rimed silver metal, with the Eye of Moirel glowing red at the top.  It looks unharmed, despite the damage that’s been done to it.

Morningstar drops an enormous columnar _flame strike_ that straddles the _wall of force_.  The snake and the crystal-headed woman are badly injured but are not killed.  The six-armed spellcaster isn’t so lucky; it topples to the ground, frozen to death.

Grey Wolf swings Bostock at Sagiro, channeling a _fireball_.  The fireball fails to penetrate Sagiro’s spell resistance, but Bostock itself finds a patch of flesh between chunks of crystal and opens a new wound on Sagiro’s body.

Above the general melee Ernie watches as the Eye Staff swivels toward the Red Way through which the Company arrived.   As did the very first Way that left the party in Green Valley, this one grows quickly narrower, as if sliding into an invisible sleeve, and then vanishes.   The only remaining way out of the room is the enormous pair of double doors on the side of the audience chamber, and now the staff turns toward those.   From behind the doors is a flash of red light, and a giant armored bear bursts out, splintering the doors into fragments.    Its eyes, as well as over half its body mass, are solid red crystal.   It lets out a mighty roar.

Having had no luck with Sagiro, Snokas swings his picks into the whirlwind of swords, and is surprised to feel his weapons make contact with something.   As for Sagiro, the earth elementals shift their bodies and manage to reestablish their rock-pile pin. 

Ah, poor Sagiro.  His  -- his? – off hand claws desperately, trying to free himself, but it’s just too much weight, too much strength, too much stone.  He can feel his lifeblood ebbing from the parts of him that are still flesh.   The better part of his awareness -- his soul? --  feels like it’s high above his body, engaged in other, more pressing matters.   That awareness, he thinks fuzzily, isn’t paying any attention to his body.  If it was, it might realize the danger that it’s in, but it fights its own battle.  As he hears the sounds of spells crackling all around him, he laughs at a fleeting joke his mind makes.  _An Eye for an Eye..._.  

The crystal-head woman casts _dimension door_ again, bringing herself and the snake back into the battle.  Kibi casts an ineffectual _coldfire_ that does not damage either target.  Aravis casts another _chain lightning_, which does no damage to the woman and seems to _heal_ the snake.  But it does do more damage to Sagiro, who twitches in pain.  

Sagiro, bent backward by the elementals, sees through crystal eyes as his enemies crowd around him.   Another joke comes to him:  _rose-colored glasses_, he thinks.  _You’d think things would look more optimistic..._

Flicker jams his short sword into Sagiro’s side.  Step slashes him with his bastard sword.   Dranko winds up his whip, and through his crystal eyes Sagiro sees the weighted end flashing through the air toward him.   Time slows down enough for him to think:  _I never should have mocked his God._.  The whip smashes the crystal in his left eye, and there is a last bright flash of pain, and then his soul, his horrible, torturing soul, lets him go.  

For the Red Eye of Moirel, it all unravels after that.  The staff starts to spin like a compass needle gone crazily awry, sending Ernie scooting away in alarm.  On the ground, the Red Eye’s minions fall apart.  Literally.  The bladed whirlwind gusts wildly and its swords are flung to the far corners of the room.  The huge bear, summoned too late, thrashes in pain as crystal clumps shatter all over its body.   Since almost half its body _was_ that crystal, what’s left cannot live.  The metallic snake breaks into a number of disjoined segments.  Most horrible of all is the peasant woman, who loses the entire top half of her head when her crusted rubies shatter and melt.   

Ernie, emboldened by the developments on the ground,  flies back to the staff and swings _Beryn Sur_.  The conveyance of the Red Eye of Moirel flies across the room, strikes the wall, and falls with a clatter to the floor.  So quickly is the battle ended that the Company stands for a few seconds in utter confusion.   Did they win?

The elementals back away from Sagiro, who is rapidly bleeding to death.  All over his body the red crystal is breaking away, leaving him covered with a hundred wounds.   His lacerated eyes are revealed as their ruby casings flake away.  They stare upward, unseeing. 

Dranko rushes forward to heal Sagiro before he can die, and by administering a number of curing spells, keeps his one-time foe from slipping away.  

“You know what’s really nice about this?” says Dranko, grimacing.  “My healing leaves scars.”

Indeed, Sagiro is now covered with the grace of Delioch, as every one of his hundred closing wounds leaves a small mark.    His healed eyes flutter.   His hand reflexively grasps for his rapier, which now lies a few feet away on the ground, stripped of its gemstone enhancements.    Above him an image swims into view.  It’s the tusked face of Dranko, looking down upon him.  Sagiro looks confused, as it he’s hallucinating.

“What... are you doing here?.... ah!  My head!”

“You’re a long way from home,” says Dranko.

“My eye...” says Sagiro weakly.  He tilts his head so that his cheek lays on the cool marble floor.  He looks at the staff, and the now colorless Eye of Moirel.

Kibi still feels like he’s vibrating.  He follows Sagiro’s gaze and sees the no-longer-red diamond atop its silver staff.  The crystal roses are gone.   He glances down at Scree, who is back to his normal self.

The dwarf walks over to the staff and looks down at it.  

“Scree, if I start screaming maniacally and doing horrible thing, restrain me.”

“Restrain you?” asks Scree, horrified at what Kibi’s about to do.  “But...”

Kibi reaches down to grasp the Red Eye.  Even before his fingers make contact he feels a vibration coming off of it, setting his fingers tingling.    His hand closes around the Eye.

There’s a terrible jolt of pain.  The Red Eye flares back to life, and red crystal starts to race up Kibi’s arm.  But before it can even reach his elbow that crystal becomes mottled with green and purple stones, recedes back down to his hand, and then is gone.  In his mind, Kibi hears the voice of one of the Eyes – Green or Purple, he’s not sure which – speaking through Scree.  It says, “Careful.”

Kibi looks down at the diamond in his hand.  “Little Eye of Moirel,” he says soothingly, “why don’t you calm down now and stop being tainted.  Just relax...there’s a good Eye.”

The two Eyes in Scree speak again:  “We will need to convince it to open a way out.  Place it with us.”

“No!” exclaims Scree.  “Bad idea”

“I’m sorry, Scree,” says Kibi sadly.  “I don’t like it either, but we have to get out of here.”

“I’m unhappy with this plan, Kibi,” says Scree nervously.

“Me too,” says Kibi.  And with that, he tosses the staff onto Scree’s body.  The Red Eye snaps off and is subsumed into the body of the elemental, at which point the roiling combat flares up anew.  Green, purple and red gemstones erupt in quickly-vanishing patches.

Dranko smiles at Sagiro, who still lies on his back, looking up.

“Ever since that sad day when we knocked you into the river, we’ve been worried about you,” says Dranko.  “We’re glad you’re alive.”

Sagiro blinks confusedly.  There’s a sensation he doesn’t recognize, a feeling whose context has long been lost to him.  He struggles to put that feeling to words.

“My... my mind... my mind is my own...” he whispers.  

“Welcome back,” says Dranko.

“Thank you.  I’m...”

Sagiro Emberleaf figures it out.

“I’m free!” he exclaims.

“Yep,” agrees Ernie.

“I’m free!” Sagiro says again, and his newly-healed face breaks into a huge smile.  “Darkeye is not in my mind!”

That elicits a collective “Oooooohhhhh” from the Company.   ‘Darkeye’ is the seldom-heard name of the leader of the Sharshun.

“How did you get here?”  asks Sagiro, struggling to a sitting position.  Dranko and Ernie help get him comfortable.

“You should consider a change in sides,” says Ernie brightly.  “Have you considered the forces of good?  We have a lot of fun... really!”

“I _am_ good,” says Sagiro.  Step nods in agreement.  “He’s not evil, at least.”

“Was Darkeye in your mind back when we first met you?” asks Dranko.

“She has been in my mind for as along as I can remember,” says Sagiro softly.  

Morningstar, suspecting deception, casts _detect thoughts_, but Sagiro’s mind resists it.  He flinches and looks around in a panic.  “Someone is trying to get into my mind!  She’s here!”

“It’s just me,” says Morningstar with a sigh.  “We need to know if you’re telling the truth.”

“I am!” insists Sagiro.  “I’m telling the truth, I swear it!”

“We have some reason to distrust you,” says Morningstar flatly.

“I understand.  But she is not here.  She has left me.  I am free.”

Ernie turns red like he’s had an embarrassing thought, but he screws up his courage and asks a question that’s been on his mind for years.

“I have to ask you,” he says, stammering.  “is that real?”  He points to Sagiro’s moustache.  “We’ve often wondered if it had a...you know, a life of its own.”

Sagiro looks offended for a second, then smiles. 

“It’s just a moustache,” he says.

“Sagiro, welcome back,” says Dranko again, grinning.

“We did feel guilty about knocking you into the river,” says Mornignstar.

“No need,” says Sagiro.  “You did exactly what you should have done.  The Sharshun are wholly evil.  They must be fought!”

Drank introduces Sagiro to those he hasn’t met.  “Grey Wolf here was at the center of the Black Circle’s first plan to restore the Emperor.   And Aravis stopped the second one.”

“I know what it’s like to have... things... in your eyes,” says Sagiro to Aravis.

“It’s not actually so bad,” Aravis answers.   But that gets Sagiro to thinking about something, and suddenly he panics again.

“We have to get back!  The Sharshun will try again!”  He tries to stand but lacks the strength.   Dranko lowers him back to a sitting position.

“They did,” says Dranko grimly.  “And they succeeded.”

“Our world doesn’t technically exist anymore,” says Aravis.

“So they found the three Eyes they needed,” says Sagiro, as if Aravis’s revelation makes sense.  “I remember they had one of... no, it was.... it’s so hard to remember.”  He closes his eyes as if it hurts to recall certain memories.

“Take your time,” says Dranko  “Take your time.”

Sagiro rubs his temples, dredging up memories of the Sharshun, and the mission... the mission that was so important...

“No,” he says, straightening up.  “They had two.  They only needed one more, and they sent me to get it.  Darkeye sent me, along with one of the two Eyes they already had.”

“To Calnis?” asks Morningstar, confused.

“No.  To here!  Het Branoi!”

Everyone digests that for a minute.

“There are two more Eyes here, then?” asks Dranko, slowly puzzling it out.

“The Sharshun sent me with the Red Eye, thinking it would assist me in bringing back the one that was here.  The plan was to... they... they had a way to change time.  They needed three Eyes of Moirel to do that.   And now you tell me they succeeded.  We have to set things right, but I don’t know how.”

“But...” says Kibi, “but if you were sent with one Eye, there must still be another one here in Het Branoi!  The one you were sent to collect!”

“That’s the one that’s powering the Slices,” says Aravis wearily. “And it’s still here somewhere.”

“Lord Tapheon thought _yours_ was the one causing it,” says Morningstar, and the thought of Tapheon being so mistaken makes her smile. 

“Speaking of whom, you should probably stay away from the Demon Lord,” says Dranko to Sagiro.  “He isn’t very happy with you.”

“Yes,” says Sagiro.   I... I felt that the Red Eye contested a great power.  I could feel the struggle, with what little sliver of consciousness was left to me.  It... It’s very painful to recall.... the Red Eye decided it wanted this place for itself.  But it couldn’t take control on its own.  It wasn’t powerful enough; the Eye that controls and creates Het Branoi was too well entrenched.   The Red Eye needed...  it thought... it could take your Eyes, and with three, it would overcome the one that is already here.”

“Perhaps we should back up,” says Morningstar.  “This place is a Black Circle experiment that screwed up.”

“Black Circle?” says Sagiro.  “That is the God of the Sharshun.”

“We think they tried to bring back the Adversary,” says Dranko.  “The evil God from whom the Travelers fled.”

“_That_ Adversary?” says Sagiro, incredulous.  “That cannot be.”

“We believe they created this place to bring the Adversary from wherever he is, into our world,” says Aravis.

“The Adversary is the Dark God from whom the other Gods fled!” exclaims Sagiro.  “Why would he not just come here?  He would not need help from mortals.”

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” says Dranko.  “The Black Circle built this place and tried to use the Eye of Moirel to power it, and that didn’t work out so well for ‘em.  The whole place went kerflooey.”

“That would be the Blue Eye,” guesses Sagiro.  “The Eye I came with made red portals for itself, but the ones that were already here were Blue.”

“The Blue Eye seems to have gotten out of control, and has been sucking in pieces of various planes,” says Aravis.

There is a long silence, where everyone contemplates the implications of the encounter, and all they’ve just learned in its aftermath.  Ernie walks over and sits next to Sagiro.  

“Were you sent alone?” he asks.  “Just you and the Eye?”

“Yes,’ says Sagiro quietly.  “Just the... just the two of us.  I never saw it coming.  I think from the moment it entered Het Branoi, the Red Eye stopped worrying about our mission.  Darkeye never truly had it under control.   It... I don’t know, but I’d almost say it was jealous of Het Branoi, that the Blue Eye should be wielding such enormous power.     Such enormous power.”

At Kibi's feet, Scree continues to churn.  

...to be continued...


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

So the slices are maintained by the blue eye which maintains the blue gates

Sagiro was able to travel through red portals which were created by the red eye

The company first entered the slices through a green portal which must have been created (then closed) by the green eye which they had with them, (along with the purple eye). 

So the company had the means to make their own portals the whole time, but didn't know it.

If green & purple were not in a big battle with red at this moment, then i think the company would have some serious questions to ask them.


----------



## the Jester

And then there's the matter of trust.


----------



## Fimmtiu

Yow. One of your best posts yet. I bet it must have been a big relief to get some closure on the Het Branoi quest after so long, even if it's not all over yet.


----------



## Sagiro

MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> So the slices are maintained by the blue eye which maintains the blue gates
> 
> Sagiro was able to travel through red portals which were created by the red eye
> 
> The company first entered the slices through a green portal which must have been created (then closed) by the green eye which they had with them, (along with the purple eye).
> 
> So the company had the means to make their own portals the whole time, but didn't know it.
> 
> If green & purple were not in a big battle with red at this moment, then i think the company would have some serious questions to ask them.



A reasonable speculation, but only because of some unnecessary red herrings on my part.  I may not have explained this well before, so let me do so now:  the colors of the exterior doorway into Het Branoi -- the one that started red, then became blue, and finally was green when the Company went in -- had nothing to do with the colors of the Eyes of Moirel.   Those colors merely reflected the prevailing ambient light of the Slice on the other side.  I don't think I've ever told the PC's this, but had the Company gone in when it was red, they would have found themselves in a small bit of the elemental plane of fire.  Had they gone in when it was blue, they would have found themselves on a small deserted island surrounded by a vast blue ocean.  Instead they went in when the door was green, reflecting the light filtered through the trees of Green Valley.

I apologize profusely to all readers who have concocted perfectly good conspiracy theories involving the changing colors of that first doorway.      I only wish I had been that clever at the time!

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> I only wish I had been that clever at the time!
> 
> -Sagiro




I don't.


----------



## Zaruthustran

Piratecat said:
			
		

> You're going to see something very interesting in the next few posts. You know how in a given fight, there's either some really brilliant tactic you can use, or you just totally miss the important point and your tactics make things a lot worse? Well, you're going to see _both_ of those.




Oh?



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> His sonic fireball soars into the air and detonates directly above the hovering staff tipped with the red Eye of Moirel. Kibi sees right away that the green and purple rocks gain a moment of majority in Scree’s body, and next to Aravis the whirlwind of swords nearly flies apart, losing its cohesion. The staff itself flies higher, rising until it scrapes the ceiling of the audience chamber.
> 
> Everyone takes note.




Yay!



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> “I’m unhappy with this plan, Kibi,” says Scree nervously.
> 
> “Me too,” says Kibi. And with that, he tosses the staff onto Scree’s body. The Red Eye snaps off and is subsumed into the body of the elemental, at which point the roiling combat flares up anew. Green, purple and red gemstones erupt in quickly-vanishing patches.
> 
> ...
> 
> At Kibi's feet, Scree continues to churn.




Oh noes!

-z


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 243*_
*Waiting Room*

Morningstar suggests that any further interrogation of Sagiro should take place under reliable truth magic.   Sagiro maintains that he _is_ telling the truth, though he assents to being questioned inside a _zone of truth_.  He balks, however, at giving assent to _detect thoughts_ or any other invasive measures.  He shudders at the very thought.

“I do not wish to have the sanctity of my mind violated any more than it has been already.”

With the _zone of truth_ in place, they first have Sagiro repeat what he has already told them, and it all checks out.  Then Kibi asks:  “It must be strange for the Sharshun to have a human... servant.  Why did Darkeye pick you?”

“I don’t know,” confesses Sagiro.  “I was brought up by the Sharshun, and under her thrall, though I didn’t know it at the time.  Darkeye always said I had great potential, and that she’d see to it that I realized it.”

“Were you always able to say the word ‘Sharshun?’” asks Ernie.  “Or did the Masking prevent it?”

“The Masking did not affect me in any way,” says Sagiro.  “It never did.”

“A ha!” says Ernie.  “They had people just like us!  Sagiro, were there others like you?”

“I think so,” says Sagiro, “but I never knew anything about them.”

“If you were brought up by the Sharshun,” asks Kibi, “did they make you worship the Black Circle?”

Sagiro frowns.  “They... could make me do many things.  But they left me to my own devices, to form my religious basis.  I believe in the Black Circle, but I am no fanatic.  The Black Circle is just a God of Knowledge.   Dark Knowledge.”

“But who is the God?” asks Kibi.  “Who is the God of the Black Circle?”

“The Black Circle _is_ the God,” says Sagiro.  “It is a Divine Concept, an object of worship in its own right.  The symbol and the deity are one and the same.”

The _zone of truth_ expires, and the Company regroups and talks for a while among themselves before the next session.  Grey Wolf grumbles at the coddling Sagiro is getting, and mutters that just chopping off villains’ heads on general principle would save them a great deal of time.  Ernie overhears him.

“Grey Wolf, what is it with you and chopping off heads?”

“We should _always_ chop off the heads,” answers Grey Wolf.  “Fewer surprises that way.”

“I’ll bet it’s the sword,” says Dranko, referring to Bostock.  “I told you it was evil.”

“Actually,” says Bostock, speaking clearly in Grey Wolf’s mind, “I fail to understand the need to decapitate those already vanquished, unless you have specific expectation that otherwise they’ll spring back to life.”

Grey Wolf just shakes his head.   Some of the others start scouring the room and bodies for loot, while Ernie makes idle conversation with Sagiro.  He learns one interesting fact:  Darkeye also had a Soul Eater in her thrall for a while, almost certainly King Farazil.  

There’s little loot to be found in the bloody mess of the Lord of the Roses’ minions.   The sorceress had some magical stuff – bracers, a ring, a cloak and a couple of potions – but that’s about it.  Dranko seems remarkably unconcerned.

“Remember,” he says brightly, “this is the place where five thousand gold-piece sapphires grow on trees, and Sagiro here hands them out to his lackeys.”

Sagiro says nothing, and looks confused.

“Srapa,” prods Dranko.  “You gave him sapphires, right?”

“I gave him nothing,” says Sagiro.  “Not that I remember.”

“Damn it!” cries Dranko.  Another get-rich-quick scheme is down the tubes. 

Scree’s body has started to settle down, but every couple of minutes it bursts into a seething mass of colored gemstones as the Eyes of Moirel struggle.    Scree says to Kibi:  “Tell Grey Wolf that I have much more sympathy for him now.”

Grey Wolf smiles.  “Tell Scree that between the two of us, I think he has it worse.”

“I really appreciate what you’re doing for us,” Kibi tells his Familiar.

“I’m not really doing anything,” says Scree morosely, “except serving as a combat arena.”


* *


Morningstar casts a new _zone of truth_ and the discussion with Sagiro picks up again.

“What’s the last thing you remember clearly?” asks Ernie.

“Clearly?  That’s difficult.  I remember... I think... I think that I...  yes, setting out from near Verdshane.  I remember the Eye helping me stay hidden when I went through the gartine arch on the Balani Peninsula.  There was a long overland journey.  It was the only way to reach... Kivia?  Is that what it was called?  I remember a tower... and giants... Darkeye had told me something I was supposed to say.”

Sagiro is clearly struggling as he answers.  Many of his memories are hazy, muddied; he dredges them up with great difficulty.

“Did you need a key?” asks Dranko.

“The Eye _was_ the key,” says Sagiro.

Dranko throws up his hands in disgust.  “Oh, for crying out loud!  That just gets right up my nose!  The Eye was the Key?  We went through all that crap for nothing!”

“I needed a phrase, and a key, yes,” says Sagiro.  “Darkeye told me the phrase, and the Eye said it would serve in the stead of the key.”

“_Your_ Eye talks to you,” says Dranko.

“So do ours,” says Kibi.

“Yeah, when they feel like it,” says Aravis.

“Once inside I traveled through many strange places, but my memories of those places are dim,” continues Sagiro.  “The Eye already had its own idea of what it would do.  I think... from the very moment we arrived inside, the Eye knew it wanted this place for itself.”

“Do you know what happens if you go through the Mirrors of Semek with an Eye?” asks Dranko.

Sagiro looks startled at the question, and digs around for memories on the subject.  

“Yes,” he says at last.  “Something significant happens, though I don’t know what.”

“’Cause a Sharshun did that, and disappeared,” says Dranko.  “You were there, remember?”

“I was?  Yes... I think... I was there, long ago.  Or was it that long?  But, yes, that’s what the Eyes are _for_.  You stand with them in the Mirrors, and they activate.  I don’t know what happens.  I don’t know where they go, but they travel somewhere.”  

“Or nowhere,” says Ernie.

“When you get out of here, what’s going to stop Darkeye from taking over your mind again?” Dranko asks.

“I don’t know.  It may just reassert itself automatically, or she may try to reestablish it.”  Sagiro looks worried at the prospect.

“But as far as you know, no one is controlling you _now_,” asks Morningstar.

“No,” says Sagiro with surety.  “And  I don’t wish to serve Darkeye again.  She has a reputation for cruelty, and no one is even allowed to look upon her.”  

“How come?” asks Dranko.

“It is the rule,” says Sagiro with a shrug.  “I don’t know why, it’s just how things are,” 

“I’ll bet she turns people to stone!” exclaims Ernie.  “She probably has snaky hair.”

“So,” says Dranko, returning to more important matters.  “Where do you keep your loot?”

“My loot?” asks Sagiro

“Yeah, your loot,” says Dranko impatiently.  “You were the Lord of the Roses, with hundreds of servants!”

“I didn’t have hundreds of...” says Sagiro, confused.

“Well, dozens then,” says Dranko.  “Either way, you were a powerful guy.  You must have had a big ol’ stash of loot.”

“Actually, the Lord of the Roses had a very small retinue,” says Sagiro, thinking hard.  “There were servants who came with the castle who are probably still in it, elsewhere.   I... he did gather some powerful servants.  That...sorceress... was the first.  He sent her out, to bring others back.    If I remember rightly, she convinced the six-armed creature that she had found a way out of the Slices, and when he got here, the Red Eye dominated him.   And she brought back the whirlwind with the swords in a bottle she had found.  
Srapa was the only one of any power who arrived on his own.”

“And the bear?” asks Dranko.

“I think the sorceress charmed it, and brought it back from some other Slice.”

“If it intended to subjugate the Eye that was already here,” asks Morningstar, “but felt it needed our two Eyes to do it, did it know we were here?”

“It suspected you were coming,” says Sagiro.

“So,” says Dranko, realizing that he’s not going to get anywhere in his ‘loot’ line of questioning, “what’s the deal with you and that Demon Lord, Tapheon?”

“He strove with the Red Eye constantly,” says Sagiro.

“It’s not going to take him long to figure out that the Lord of the Roses is no longer in power,” says Aravis.  “We need to get moving, or Tapheon may be coming for Kibi now that there’s no Red Eye to fight against.”

“Do you know where the other Eye is?” asks Aravis.

“I... the Red Eye knew,” says Sagiro.  “But I don’t remember.”

Ernie shouts into Scree:  “Hey!  Red Eye?  Where’s the Blue Eye?”

To everyone’s surprise, Scree roils around a bit, and the Eyes actually speak into Kibi’s mind.  

*“We’re working on it.”*

“Wow!” exclaims Kibi.  “They answered!”

“And without any crazy prophecy,” adds Aravis.

“Yeah, Scree has it worse than I did,” says Grey Wolf. 

“Agreed,” says Ernie.  “Grey Wolf, your stomach never talked back to you.”

“On the other hand, we’re not thinking about killing Scree to fulfill a prophecy,” says Aravis.

“No, we’re not!” says Scree emphatically.

The second _zone of truth_ runs out, and the Company is well satisfied that Sagiro is being honest with them.  They keep talking for a while, about Darkeye and her plans.  Sagiro thinks that if he didn’t come back, the Sharshun were going to have to hunt down the remaining two Eyes in order to get the three they needed.   He has a hazy memory that the Sharshun were already planning an expedition into Calnis to grab the Yellow Eye.  A quick rundown of all seven Eyes’ dispositions:

Green: owned by the Company
Purple: owned by the Company
Red: brought by Sagiro; now owned (sort of) by the Company
Blue:  currently powering Het Branoi
Yellow: once in Calnis; probably recovered by the Sharshun.
Remaining two:  unknown, but probably both found eventually by the Sharshun.  One was probably already in their possession, being the one seen used in the Mirrors of Semek already.

The Company now comes to the unfortunate realization that there’s no way out of the throne room.   With the Red Way gone, the only door out is the one through which the bear attacked, but that only leads into a large pen that smells strongly of bear.  Ernie worries that elsewhere in the castle are ordinary servants who now have no guiding power in their mind, and no eyeballs.  

“Sagiro, how did the Red Eye get to the rest of the castle?” asks Ernie.

“It opened doorways when it needed to,” says Sagiro.  “A long time ago the Eye decided to make this an impenetrable sanctum, controlling the only doors in or out.”

On the one hand, that doesn’t bode well for their continued travel plans.  On the other, it’s a darned good thing that sort of cavalier opening and closing of Ways didn’t attract Cleaners!

“Well, I say we throw the bodies into the bear’s room and clean the rest of this place up,” says Dranko.  “’Cause it looks like we’ll be here for a few years, at least.”

“Years?!” squeaks Flicker.

“Unless you can think of some other way out of here...” says Dranko.  

Kibi says, “Well, our two Eyes may be able to strong-arm the Red one into getting us out of...”

*“WE’RE WORKING ON IT!”* comes the voice of one of the Eyes, spoken through Scree.

“They’re getting snippy,” says Kibi worriedly.  “Let’s just be patient.”

Ernie lights the fire pit, and starts preparations for cooking the bear meat.  Dranko lounges on the throne, pulls out a crown from an old treasure horde, and puts it on his head.

“He’s cute when he’s delusional,” says Morningstar with a smile.

From the throne, Dranko calls to Ernie.  “You know, when I smell that delicious bear meat, and see the smoke rising, I think to myself, ‘there sure isn’t another source of fresh air in here.’”

“The Eye used to open a Way for the smoke to escape,” says Sagiro.

Dranko leaps from his throne and calls his _decanter of endless water_ from his _wide-mouth pouch_.  The fire is soon out, and they set to discussing ways of cooking the meat without using up the air supply.  

“I’m _not_ eating bear meat cooked over a _flaming sphere_,” Morningstar insists.

That earns a gale of laughter.  Which is highly disturbing, because everyone hears the laughter, and yet no one is laughing.


* *


The laughter dies down, and a voice sounds in their heads, a rich, beautiful voice with an unmistakable undercurrent of limitless malice.

“The Lord of the Roses no longer strives against me!”  exults Lord Tapheon.  “You’ve done well, my friends.”

“I want you to know,” thinks Dranko.  “I’ve been thinking about what you did to me in your throne room, and I want you to know... I forgive you.”

Grey Wolf slowly sidles away from Dranko, as if he expects his friend to be consumed on the spot by unholy fire.

“It is not your place to forgive me, Dranko Blackhope,”  responds Tapheon.  “It is not the ant’s place to forgive the man for stepping upon it.   And you cannot forgive me.

“Fortunately for you, I am generous, and do not hold your views against you any longer,” thinks Tapheon into their heads.  “We are one step closer to our collective goal.  But, unless I miss my guess, we are not as close as we believed we would be, are we?

“The Lord of the Roses is gone, but the power that creates the Slices is still unchecked!  Now that I can cast my perception beyond the Lord of the Roses, I see there is a new barrier between it and you.  It is... opaque, in a way that troubles me.  But I will make you another offer.   To bring you even closer.  You must get closer, and end this.  You mortals must... study, reflect, practice to improve yourselves.  This costs you in money and time, waiting for your experiences and knowledge to crystallize.   But now that the Lord of the Roses is no more, the balance of power in the Slices has shifted.  Things may start to unravel, and time may be a luxury you no longer have.”

Tapheon isn’t in the room.  He’s probably still in his Fortress, several Slices away.  But every member of the Company gets the unsettling feeling that he’s _looking_ at them, and not just communicating via telepathy.  

“Why will things unravel?” asks Kibi.

“The Lord of the Roses’ power was the same as that used to power the Slices,” says Tapheon.  “It may have tied itself in somehow, had its tendrils in the fabric of Het Branoi.  Without it, who knows what will happen?  But don’t think of this as an offer.  It’s a gift.   I can make things clear to you, in an instant.  I can grant you the benefits of weeks of study and training in just a few minutes time.  I ask nothing in return.  Nothing.  You will not be beholden to me in any way.”

“Ever?” asks Dranko.

“Ever, as far as I’m concerned.   I ask for nothing.  What I get out of it, is that you’ll be better prepared to face your upcoming trials.  You can accept or reject my offer on an individual basis, as you will.  I assure you there are no strings, no bargains.”

“Can we get that in writing?” asks Kibi.

“No, of course not!”  thinks Tapheon, and they can feel his temper start to rise.  “I _would_, but physical reality precludes that at the moment.   So... any takers?"

“No,” says Ernie flatly.  “There’s no way.”

Flicker is the only one who entertains the offer, but Dranko talks him out of it.

“If you do this,” Dranko whispers to Flicker, “you’ll have to listen to Ernie lecture you about it for the rest of your natural life.   And since the people who say no will have to train anyway, we might as well spare ourselves the lecture.”

Step smiles grimly.  “I’m still waiting for the demon to say something that’s actually relevant to me.”

“You know,” thinks Dranko, “I would have entertained your offer, but being turned into an inside-out gutted fish really put our relationship in a new light.  Even considering I’ve forgiven you.”

Over the telepathic connection they can feel Tapheon seething.  “I wish to amend some of my previous statements.  Any words I’ve spoken of reconciliation, amnesty, and working toward a common good, I retract in the case of Dranko Blackhope.  When I get out of here, we’ll... see about things.”

“Oh, yeah?” thinks Dranko.  _In for a penny._  “You’re threatening me?”

“Dranko!” hisses Ernie, but it’s too late for that.

“Yes,”  replies Tapheon.  “Yes I am.”

“Well then,” says Dranko.  “I guess it won’t do me any more harm to tell you that you can kiss my ass.”

A number of gasps resound through Tapheon’s telepathic link.

“Dranko, I refuse to marry a fish,” whispers Morningstar.

“I am secure in the love and solace of my God,” says Dranko.

“And I,”  says Tapheon, “am secure in the love and solace of myself, which is essentially the same thing.”

“That’ll put hair on your palms,” says Dranko smirking.

Now _everyone_ starts to sidle away from Dranko, just in case.

“Perhaps,” hisses Tapheon, and there’s no sweetness now in his voice.  “Perhaps when your current personality and soul have been burned away by a few millennia of torment, a person like you might have a future as part of my retinue.  You certainly have the mouth for it.   Perhaps I’ll be kind and give you a form with a mouth, when the time comes.”

“That’s great,” answers Dranko.  “I’ll put ‘quaking in my boots’ on my calendar for...oh... next Friday.”

“This discussion grows tiresome,” says Tapheon.  “I’ll just have to hope you succeed on your own.  In the meantime, Dranko, I’ll have some of my minions start sharpening your stake.”

“I like steak,” says Dranko, but Tapheon’s presence is gone from their minds. 

“Er,” says Dranko, when he notices everyone starting at him with wide eyes.  “I think I may have a problem with authority figures.”


* *


“You know, I’ve always been impressed with your faith,” says Ernie.  “But sometimes I wish you’d _keep your mouth shut about it!_.  A simple ‘no thank you’ would have sufficed.

“I thought is was great!” says Flicker, reaching up to pat Dranko on the back.  “You told a demon lord to kiss your ass, and you’re still alive!”

“I guess we’ll add ‘rescue Dranko’s soul from eternal torment’ to our list of things to do,” Ernie sighs.

A glowing red gem pops out of Scree and starts to roll across the floor toward the throne.  Before anyone can react, Scree becomes entirely amethyst for a second, and the Red Eye goes shooting back into Scree as if it had been attached to an invisible rubber band.    There’s some more churning of contesting gemstones before Scree’s body settles back down.

“There’s still some convincing left to do,” observes Scree.

The Company starts to think they should begin to train where they are, and hope the Eyes figure something out before there’s no more air in the room.  Aravis sits down and goes into the Crosser’s Maze, thinking to learn something useful.  As before he sees the strange partitioned universe of Het Branoi, but he’s disappointed that there are no adjacent Slices to this one.  Even parts of the castle that once were in the same Slice are no longer connected.  Truly the Red Eye had made this a place of isolated security.

It is some hours later, after the Company has cleaned the place up and unpacked bedrolls,  when Kibi looks suddenly alert.  

“The Eyes are talking again!” he says.  Then, after a pause:  “Scree says the Eyes have things under control.”  Another pause.  “They have the Red Eye subdued.”  Pause.  “They are learning what it knows.”

The others look at Kibi and Scree expectantly.

“The Red Eye knows where the Blue Eye is!” says Kibi excitedly.  “In fact, the Red Eye could have gone near to where the Blue Eye is at any time, but was afraid for its own safety.  The specifics are still obscured; there is an unknown power between this throne room, and where the Blue Eye resides.  The Eyes – our Eyes – think they can imitate the Red Eye’s trick of opening Ways.  It’ll take another day or so.  But they say it’s a solvable problem.”


* *


Knowing that they’ll be leaving soon, Ernie makes a small cook-fire and stews some of their beef jerky.

“It’s ‘bear surprise’,” he says.  When the others start to point out that he hasn’t actually carved any meat from the animal, he adds:  “Surprise!  There’s no bear!”  

Sagiro wolfs down the food, making happy slurping sounds.  “It’s been so long,” he says, “I’d forgotten what it feels like to eat!”

Kibi breaks out some of the ale (Eye of the Storm vintage) from the _bag of holding_, and passes it around.  Snokas takes a deep drink, then comments:  “Not bad for dwarfish stuff, but it lacks a good bite.”

“You mean the rancid overtones of orcish swill?” says Kibi, affronted.  “True, I avoided that.”

“The problem is, you use tame ingredients,” says Snokas.

“I use _tasty_ ingredients, if that’s what you mean,” says Kibi.

“We need a bar fight!” exclaims Dranko, grinning.

Grey Wolf turns to Morningstar.  “You need to have more control over your half-orcs,” he says.  Morningstar just shakes her head.

“Look,” says Snokas, “I’m not saying it isn’t any good.  It _is_ good.  But...”

“But you prefer bad beer,” says Kibi.  “I understand.”

“I prefer different amounts of fermentation,” Snokas explains.  “Different ingredients, yes.  Different... well, yours just isn’t _chunky_ enough.”

“This, from a race that likes black lizard pie,” says Grey Wolf.

“Black lizard pie?” says Snokas.  “I _love_ black lizard pie!  You know, what’s-his-name, that orc servant you had _polymorphed_ into a human.  Skorg.  He made a _great_ black lizard pie.  Wasn’t good for much else, being a full orc and all, but it’s a shame he doesn’t exist anymore.”

Kibi rolls his eyes and says to Dranko and Morningstar, “Oh, great.  I’ll bet you’ll be making black lizard pie for all your little... quarter-orcs kids.”

“I can’t stand black lizard pie,” confesses Dranko.  “I tastes like... it tastes like feet.”

“You’ve lost your appreciation for the finer things in life,” says Snokas, shaking his head.

“_Feet!_" insists Dranko.  “I don’t like lizard feet.”

“It’s 'cause you haven’t had enough of them,” says Snokas.

“Snokas, we’ve all tried black lizard pie,” says Ernie.  “The good stuff, straight from Abernathy’s ice box.  And I’ve got to agree with Dranko:  feet.”  

There’s a round of general agreement from the others.

“Well, I’d expect that from humans and elves and halflings,” says Snokas.  “But Dranko, you’ve got orcish blood in your veins.”

Step sits down and shakes his head.   “These may be among my last days alive, and here I sit, listening to a discussion about half-orcish cuisine.  Though, having tried it, I agree with the 'feet' opinion.”

Snokas throws up his hands. 


* *

The Company sleeps, and with the Eyes moderately quiescent, it’s probably the safest place to camp in all the Slices.  Over breakfast, the Eyes announce:  *“We’re ready.”*

“Where are you taking us?” asks Kibi.

*“A Slice near to the Blue Eye.”*

“What’s it like?” asks Kibi.  “Should we make any special preparations?”

*“There are many living beings there.”*

In the center of the room a Way opens, appearing like a window shade pulled down from an invisible window.  It’s surface is mottled with red, purple and green, swirling in a chaotic mix.  Every so often it flickers in and out of existence.

“Well _that_ just fills me with confidence,” says Grey Wolf.

*“Don’t go through yet,”* says the Eyes.

“Does anyone here ever question their career choice?” asks Morningstar.

*“It should be safe in a minute.  No.  Wait!”*

The Way disappears.   The Company watches nervously.  Two minutes later it reappears, still swirling with color but no longer flickering.  

“C’mon, Sagiro,” says Dranko.  “You’re coming with us.  We’re not going to leave you here.”

“Though when we get back from all this, we’ll need to have a long talk,” says Morningstar, distrustful even now.

“Yes!” agrees Sagiro.  “It is possible, as you have said, that when I am once again in the same reality as Darkeye, I may become dominated again.  I do not wish for that!  It would be better if you share no secrets with me, in case that happens."

“Don’t worry,” says Grey Wolf.  “We won’t.”

And with no further delay, the Company steps into the multicolored Way.

...to be continued...


----------



## blargney the second

That was wonderful!!  Thank you, Sagiro
-blarg

ps - Thanks to all the players for the epic banter!


----------



## LightPhoenix

Lots of people?

Ten bucks says the blue Eye is at the Eye of the Storm.


----------



## Piratecat

You know, I think I'd blocked out _exactly_ how badly I'd offended Tapheon. Huh.  In retrospect, maybe that wasn't such a good idea after all.

I've just finished re-reading the John Constantine ("Hellblazer") graphic novel named 'Dangerous Habits,' in which our hero is dying of lung cancer but manages to infuriate the devil enough that he decides dying would be a really bad idea. I have _got_ to find better sources for inspiration when playing Dranko.

Dranko has a plan, though; oh, yes.  Thought up with his mighty 9 intelligence.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Actually, I'm more worried about the plan thought up with your mighty, what, 14 wisdom?  

Oh well.  We recently crossed some stuff off the list, so we have room for "Rescue Dranko's soul from eternal torment".  Although if you keep this up, we might amend that to "Send Dranko's soul a muffin basket and get back to work"


----------



## el-remmen

I knew there was a reason I liked Dranko!


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Ya know, I'd really love it if it turned out Sagiro Emberleaf was pulling another con on the PC's...


----------



## Richard Rawen

*I'm WAY behind, however . . .*



			
				MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> I bet Farazil exists in this world.
> 
> What you need is a "Guinan" character walking around saying "this is wrong, everything is wrong".






			
				KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> We don't have the budget for Whoopi cameos. We tried putting a dead flumph on Ernies head and having him dispense drinks, but it wasn't the same.




 Imagery... I :\

 oh man, speechless... gut wrenching laughter combined with this overwhelming feeling of:

 Oh My Lord that is WRONG!

 ahem.
sorry... Ok, yes, I'm ages behind in my reading, but after almost posting reply a dozen times before this one just hit me as Too Funny to pass by.
 Since I'm here... 
 THANKS!  I'm having a BLAST reading and stealing ideas... 
 Blessings
 Richard aka
 M < > <


----------



## Zustiur

Wasn't there supposed to be an explanation of how Sagiro isn't dead after falling off a cliff? Or does that come later?

Is Pewter still around? He hasn't done anything hilarious lately 

Zustiur.


----------



## Sagiro

Zustiur said:
			
		

> Wasn't there supposed to be an explanation of how Sagiro isn't dead after falling off a cliff? Or does that come later?
> 
> Is Pewter still around? He hasn't done anything hilarious lately
> 
> Zustiur.



Here's the explanation:

Sagiro didn't literally fall off a cliff.  He was knocked down a very steep mountainside into a raging river which swept his body away.   But he hadn't taken lethal damage, and he washed ashore before drowning. 

In other words, he didn't die in the same way that (unlikely but possible spoiler): 



Spoiler



Aragorn didn't die in the _Two Towers_ movie.



As for Pewter, sure, he's still there.  But there's only so much screen-time to go around!  

-Sagiro


----------



## Someone

Ah, the Good Guys had a Bad Guy moment! Always look for the Good (in this case Bad) Guy´s corpse!


----------



## Fimmtiu

Someone said:
			
		

> Ah, the Good Guys had a Bad Guy moment! Always look for the Good (in this case Bad) Guy´s corpse!




IIRC, they did, but _couldn't find it..._ (cue ominous music)

I'm truly impressed that you managed to keep that secret for so long, Sagiro. Nicely done.


----------



## Sagiro

Fimmtiu said:
			
		

> ...I'm truly impressed that you managed to keep that secret for so long, Sagiro. Nicely done.




Thanks!  The hardest moment was the day or two before the session, when my wife (who plays Kibi) actually _guessed_ that the Lord of the Roses was Sagiro.  Of course, she was joking, ha ha, because how preposterous would _that_ be?  I joined her in laughing off the suggestion as ridiculous, but I couldn't laugh _too_ hard without making her suspect something.

And now, the next update:

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 244*_
*Welcome to Bakersfield*

The good news is, the Way does its job.   The transit feels rough, as if the Eyes are still getting the hang of the whole “connecting worlds” thing, but in the end the Company is ejected into the Slice the Eyes were aiming for.

The bad news, which really isn’t all that bad in the grand scheme, is that the Green and Purple Eyes don’t quite grasp the concept of “ground level.”  The Way opens into the air forty feet above the ground.   Someone must be watching out for them though, as below them is a steep grassy hill.  Each member of the party plummets (except for Dranko, who _feather falls_), bounces down the springy incline, and rolls to a bruised and battered stop at the bottom.

Ernie rolls over, pushes Flicker off his chest, and checks himself for broken bones.  He sees that a human girl is standing nearby, watching them curiously.  She looks like she’s seven years old, though in Het Branoi her true age is impossible to tell, and her expression carries an adult maturity.

She speaks to them in a foreign tongue.  Ernie gets himself into a sitting position and casts _tongues_.  

“Hello there!” he says, smiling.  “I’m Ernest.”

“I’m Luna,” says the girl.  

“Would you tell me where we are?” asks Ernie.

Luna looks up, to the patch of sky out of which the Company fell.  Ernie sees her looking and says, “Yes, we fell out of the sky.”

“There’s no Way up there,” points out Luna.

Ernie looks up and sees that she’s correct.  The multicolored Way is gone.

“We came through a special gate,” explains Aravis, with Ernie translating.  “Not all Ways are permanent.”

Luna keeps looking up, as if she expects a trick.

“So,” repeats Ernie.  “Where are we?”

“We’re in the hills outside of Bakersfield,” says Luna.

“We haven’t been here before,” says Ernie.  “It looks very pretty.”

Luna shrugs, and then, bizarrely, asks, “I don’t suppose one of you is made out of ruby and emerald and amethyst and sapphire?”

She looks more carefully at the assembled Company as she says this, as if trying to pick out such a person among them.

“That’s a strange question,” remarks Kibi, thinking immediately of Scree and his Eyes of Moirel.

“Why do you ask?” says Ernie excitedly.  “Do you have a prophecy?”

“It’s not _my_ prophecy,” says Luna.  “It’s Mystic Peralta’s prophecy.”

“Ask her who Mystic Peralta is,” prods Dranko.

“Duh,” says Ernie.  “A mystic.”

“Just ask her.”

“Who is Mystic Peralta?” asks Ernie.  “A wise woman?  Wise man?”

“If you ask me,” says Luna, “she’s... well, she’s what happens if you look into the Seeing Flame long enough.”

Dranko casually calls from his _widemouth pouch_ a ruby, sapphire, emerald and amethyst, and shows them to Luna.

“I see that you’re rich,” says the girl, “but I don’t think that’s what she meant.”  To Ernie, she adds:  “I don’t think he’s the one.”

“Do you know the rest of the prophecy?” asks Ernie.

“No,” says Luna.  “It’s been a long time since I heard her say the whole thing.  I think that someone made out of that stuff is going to go through the Black Door, or something like that.”

“Let me guess,” says Ernie.  “No one who goes through the Black Door ever comes back.”

“No, they don’t,” says Luna, a bit surprised.  “Well, except for Porridge.”

“Who’s Porridge?” asks Ernie. 

“He’s the only guy who’s ever come back,” says Luna.

“What happened to him on the other side?” asks Ernie.  

“Who knows?” replies Luna.  “He’s nuts.   He hasn’t really been right in the head since then.  And he never said what he saw.”

“Maybe we should talk to Porridge and Mystic... er... what’s-her-name ourselves,” says Ernie.

“Peralta,” says Luna.  “Mystic Peralta of Na’Lil the Seeing Flame, blah blah blah.”

“How many people are in Bakersfield?” asks Dranko.

“Right now?” says Luna.  “Maybe a hundred, hundred and fifty.  Say, why don’t you come with me into town.  I’ll take you to the Wily Warthog.  I spend a lot of time there.  Sadly, it doesn’t take a lot of alcohol to get my body drunk, since I’m still physically a little kid.”

Scree has stayed hidden underground through all of this exchange.   As the Company heads toward the town, the earth elemental says excitedly to Kibi:  “I’m made of all those things!  Those gems!  That’s me!”

“I know,” says Kibi.  “But we don’t want to cause a panic or anything around here, so I think you ought to stay hidden until we figure out what’s going on.”

Scree agrees.

“We’ve got three other Ways out of Bakersfield,” says Luna as they walk.  “There used to be five, but two of them have gone gray.”

“Cleaners,” says Ernie, his voice grim.

“I’ve heard them called that,” says Luna.  

“Where do they go to?” asks Dranko.

“Well, one goes to the Lions,” answers Luna.  “Another goes to the ocean, but no one goes in or out of that one.  And the third goes to.. slime tunnels, I think?  Someone came out of that one.  I think the orc came from there.”

“An orc?” asks Kibi, grimacing.

“Yeah.  Garg.  Garg came out of the slime tunnels.  Figures, really.  Anyhow, there are a lot of people in Bakersfield.  All the townspeople, they haven’t gone anywhere, and plenty of folks come and go through the Ways.   It’s sad, but one of the Ways only went gray about six months ago.   That’s a shame, cause that went to the Apes.  We had good trading with them.  The Vorsh, I think they were called.  No one knows what happened to them.”

“They’re probably dead,” says Dranko.

“You know not to block off Ways, right?” asks Kibi anxiously.

“Yeah, we hear that a lot,” says Luna.  “But we wouldn’t do that anyway since nothing dangerous ever comes through.   We get lots of visitors, mostly people who’ve heard about Peralta.  They all want to check out the Black Door.  Some of them go through, despite what she tells them, and like I said, they never come back.”

“Except for Porridge,” says Kibi.

“Yeah, except for Porridge,” agrees Luna.    “But he was a lucky bastard.”

“Why was that?” asks Dranko.

“Well, he was roaring drunk when he went through.  So were his two buddies, and neither of _them_ came back.   That was a long time ago – within days of when we all arrived.  I was seven then, and I’m twenty-seven now.   A few townsfolk went in the Black Door right away, who didn’t believe Peralta, and they didn’t come out.  Then, a few days later, Porridge and a couple of other drunks decided they would just hop in and hop out again, real quick.” 

“Haven’t you people heard of ropes?” asks Dranko.

“They were drunk,” says Luna.  “Porridge came back out, but the others didn’t.  He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“We’ll make him,” says Dranko, but Ernie doesn’t translate that.  

“Lots of people come and go,” continues Luna.  “Plenty of folks like you in town... adventuring types.   Some leave and come back.  Others are waiting around for Peralta’s so-called saviors to show up.  She can spin a story pretty good, and has a bunch of people convinced, or at least curious enough to stick around.”

“What exactly are they waiting for, when you say ‘saviors?’” asks Morningstar.

“If I understand Peralta right, when the saviors come, they’ll go through the Black Door and do whatever it is that will get us all out of here.  Some of the folks in town claim they’ll help when the times comes.   Others I think just want to see what happens.   It’s a shame, the number of people who have come and thought they could take on whatever’s beyond the Door.  Apparently whatever’s in there pulls you in quickly.   We know from the ropes.”

“When you pull the ropes back, what comes out?” asks Ernie.

“Nothing.  The ropes always get pulled in with the people, or the ropes get pulled back without them.”

“Haven’t you tried tying the ropes to things?” asks Dranko.  

“Well, sure,” says Luna.  “There’s nothing too close to the Black Door, but people have tried tying ropes to the closest tree, about 100 feet away.  The ropes just break, or whatever’s on the other side manages to remove the ropes from the people.”

A light snow has started to fall, and the air has cooled in the late afternoon.  They crest a small hill and see the town of Bakersfield just a few more minutes’ walk, looking like any small town in Charagan.   Lights are being lit in the streets.  

“Where would we find the Mystic?” asks Ernie.

“Probably at the inn, or maybe at the shrine,” says Luna.  “Of Hol, that is, God of the Harvest.  The _actual_ God.   I mean, I’m sure the Seeing Flame is very impressive in its way, but...  Anyway,  Peralta and Prinn have lots of discussions about religious matters.  Prinn is the Priestess of Hol.”

“I also worship of Goddess for whom the Harvest is sacred,” says Ernie.

“Yondalla, I’ll bet,” says Luna,

“Yes!” exclaims Ernie.

“You should talk to Yoba then.”

“There’s another halfling here?” 

“Yes, she’s very nice.”

“Oooh,” says Ernie.  “I shall have to pay my respects.”

“So,” says Dranko.  “About this Seeing Flame...”

Ernie translates.  

“Oh, there isn’t an _actual_ flame,” says Luna.  “But Peralta looks into fires all the time.  She says the Seeing Flame is an Oracular God, who shows itself in fireplaces and campfires and things.”

The Company reaches the outskirts of the town; some passersby nod politely while others stare unabashed.   Down one of the side streets they catch a distant glint of blue light.

“Oh, that’s the one that goes to the ocean,” explains Luna.  “The only Way people use – the one to the lions – is about a mile out of town, that way.”  She points.

“Lions?” asks Ernie curiously.

“Yeah.  Never actually been there, but I hear they’re very nice.  They’re intelligent lions.  Vicious when they need to be, that’s the word on the street, but perfectly pleasant if you don’t anger them.    We don’t need many guards around, with the Lions at our back, so to speak.  A lot of our visitors who come from civilized Slices, they say they need to keep the Ways in and out heavily guarded, since you never know what’s going to walk through.   We have a few archers, but really, if anything is strong enough to get past the Lions, there’s not much _we're_ going to do about it.  So why bother?  We have our livestock, our farms, no one’s getting any older... this’ll all end eventually, whether it’s by Peralta’s prophecy or something else.”

“That’s very optimistic of you,” says Ernie approvingly.

“That’s Hol.  ‘Things work out,’ he teaches us.”

“Well, I hope things work out in a way that involves me getting a beer,” says Ernie with a grin.

“We can see to that!” says Luna.

Now they’re walking down the main street of Bakersfield, passing small homes and shops.  Ernie’s eye is caught by a large sign with a pie.  Luna sees his head turn and snorts.

“That’s where Torin lives and works.  The food is good, though you have to talk to Torin to get it.  He complains a lot.”

Two blocks later, near the other end of the town, they reach a large building whose large sign  shows a warthog peeking slyly over a hand of cards.  Beneath it is written “The Wily Warthog,” though in a language none of the party can read.

Inn they go.   It’s a large busy place, with a cheery commons holding about thirty noisy patrons.  Most are dressed like Luna – simple commoner garb – but a few stand out as folks like themselves, festooned with the gleam of enchanted masterwork.  

One of the these is a kobold seated in a corner, talking boisterously to a couple of bored looking locals.   Near the other side of the room two tables have been pushed together to accommodate a well-populated card game, and one of the gamers is a tall man with a rapier at his side and a number of glinting daggers strapped to his body.  In the center of the room, at a smaller table, is a huge man drinking and laughing with a burly dwarf.  

As the Company gets seated, Dranko notices that no one seems to paying for their meals and drinks.  When he points this out to Luna, she says, “Oh, this place stopped charging a while ago.   There wasn’t much point in just moving money around within the town, and Tuggle didn’t want to charge the outsiders while letting the locals get free stuff.  So now everything’s free, but you’re encouraged to make donations.  And speaking of Tuggle...”

A boisterous man comes bounding to their table.

“Hey, you’re new!” he says.  “Come from the Lions?”  He’s wearing a translator disc, as are many people in the building.

“No,” says Ernie.

“The ocean?”

“No.”

“Ah, the Slime Pits then.  You’ll want to talk to the orc.”

“I’ll do that,” says Ernie, smiling.  “Thanks.”

“How was the journey then?” asks Tuggle jovially.  “’Lotta slime, huh?  That’s what I hear.”

“Oh, there are all kinds of different things,” says Ernie.

“You want something to eat?  Drink?  You like stew?”

That’s more like it!  Tuggle motions for provender while Ernie asks about the Mystic Peralta.

“She’s up in her room as usual,” says Tuggle.  “She’ll want to see you, I’m sure, and talk to you about her prophecy.  I don’t suppose any of you are made out of gems?”

“We’ve been asked that before,” comments Morningstar.

The food is excellent and the ale is hearty, and if Snokas finds it suboptimal he keeps that opinion to himself.  Sagiro’s appetite seems already to have diminished, and he’s very quiet, often just staring out into space.  The party chalks it up to post-Eye-possession trauma, but there’s not much to do about it.

Half-way through the meal Dranko gets up suddenly and announces he wants to visit Mystic Peralta right then, and before anyone can object he’s bounding up the stairs.  (Kibi does grumble that Dranko might not be the best “face” for the Company, but isn’t inclined to intervene.)

Dranko knocks sharply on the door.  A weary middle-aged woman’s voice answers.

“Come in?”

Dranko opens the door and sees a gray-haired woman in her late forties sitting cross-legged in front of a fireplace.

“You’re the Mystic Peralta, right?” asks Dranko.

“Yes,” says the woman, breaking off her flame-gazing and turning to face him.  “And you are... ?”

“If you were really a prophetess, wouldn’t you know?” asks Dranko with a smirk.

“The Flame must not deem you important enough,” says Peralta, smiling back at him.

“I’m Dranko Blackhope, and I happen to be with some people who are extremely important.   We just got in, and they’re finishing their dinner, but we’d like to talk to you about prophecy, if you don’t mind.   Something to do with gems.  We’ll be back up in fifteen or twenty minutes.”

He turns to go, but Peralta calls after him:  “Wait!  Wait wait wait!  You’ve talked to some of the others then, I take it?”

Dranko stops in the doorway and turns around.

“_We_ haven’t heard the actual prophecy, so we want to hear it first hand,” he says.

“Of course,” says Peralta, her voice rising.  “But... talk to me about gems.”

“Well, first, could...”

Peralta springs to her feet and interrupts him.   She almost shouts as she demands:  “Talk.  To me.  About gems!”  

“Couldn’t we wait fifteen...”

“NO!” she cries.  Then, calming down a bit:  “I’m sorry, but this is important.”

“Well, okay,” says Dranko.  “We heard that you have a prophecy.  Something about rubies and amethysts and emeralds and sapphires.”   

“Do you have such a person with you?” Peralta asks breathlessly.

“Not necessarily.  But we might know where we can get one.”

Mystic Peralta visibly deflates.  “I don’t appreciate mockery,” she says testily.

“I’m not mocking you,” Dranko assures her.  “We’re just used to being suspicious.  But...”  

And here he puts on as grave a demeanor has he can.

“It’s time,” he says.

“But you won’t talk to me about it now,” says Peralta.

“Well, you might have noticed that I’m not the most diplomatic person.  Some of the people I’m with should do the talking.”

Peralta sighs.  “I will be here when you’re ready.  In the meantime, I will consult with the Flame.”

For a moment she stares intently at Dranko’s face.

“Ummm... what are you looking at?” asks Dranko.

“I’m memorizing you,” she says quietly.  “The Flame will give me clearer answers if I can preserve your image in my mind.”

“Right,” says Dranko.  He backs out of the door, then heads downstairs to rejoin the others.

“She’s on board, and all set,” he announces.  “She’ll meet with us in fifteen or twenty minutes.  She’s a bit too serious, but seems nice enough.  We should...”

“Hey there!” 

A high-pitched grating voice interrupts Dranko.  The kobold has released his previous conversational companions and wandered over to their table.   

“Hello,” says Ernie, being polite.

“I’m Nurgonik!” says the kobold.  “Who are you?”

“Nurgonik?” says Dranko.  “Is that communicable?

“What?”  

“I’m Dranko,” he sighs.  Kobolds never get the joke.  

“Nice to meetcha!” says the kobold energetically.  “You the leader?

“Nah,” admits Dranko.  “We...”

“You got the gem guy?  Peralta’s gem guy?”

“We’ve been asked that before,” sighs Morningstar.

“Well sure!  That’s what we’re all waiting for!”  Nurgonik is like an excited little kid.  An ugly kid who doesn’t smell so good.

“What happens then?” asks Kibi.

“I assume we all go into the Black Door and get the hell out of here!”

“Where’d you come from?” asks Dranko.

“My world doesn’t exist anymore.  The Way to it went gray.  I had some friends, too, but they all got eaten by wolves.  But I fought ‘em off, and made it here.”

Then his voice takes on a reverent tone as he says:  “That’s when I met the prophetess.  Have you talked to her?  She knows everything!”

“Everything?” asks Aravis, skeptically.

“Everything!” affirms Nurgonik. “Well, she knows about how to get out.  Isn’t that enough?  So, you gonna go fight?  I can fight!  Is one of you the gem person?”

“Do we look like gem people?” asks Dranko wearily.  

The kobold look them over.   “Maybe it’s him,” he says, pointing to Ernie.  “Maybe he’s all made of gems under that tin can!”

“So, you say you can fight,” says Dranko.  “Gotta weapon on ya?”

“Of course!”

“Let’s see how well you can fight then” says Dranko, rising from his chair.    

“I’m not gonna draw my cutlass in here!” squeaks Nurgonik.  “Tuggle would chuck me out!”

“Just pretend,” says Dranko, grinning.  “Use a spoon.”

“Dranko, why are you torturing him?” asks Aravis.

Dranko takes a menacing step toward the Nurgonik, and the kobold backs up and gets into a defensive stance.  From his body language, Dranko guesses he’s a decent warrior, though not really on the same level as the Company.

“You’re good,” says Dranko approvingly.  

“You bet I am!”

“Are there a lot of people around here who are ready to fight?” asks Kibi.

“A few, yeah,” answers Nurgonik.  “Like him.  Ox.  That’s the guy talking to Kiro.  Kiro’s  the dwarf.  He’s the one who came with Kell.”

Perhaps hearing his name, the tall, heavy-set Ox looks over at them.   

“Nurgonik!” he shouts, slurred with drunkenness.  “Leave those people alone.  They’ve heard everything you’re gonna say.   Probably more than once already.  Jus’ leave ‘em alone for a few minutes, l’right?”

Nurgonik looks over and ducks his head.  “Yeah.  Sorry.  Yeah, yeah.”

“Thanks, Ox!” calls Dranko.  Nurgonik hops across the commons to another table and starts badgering someone else.


* *


In the modest inn room of the Mystic Peralta, she looks at the assembled Company crowded inside the door.

“There are a lot of you,” she observes.  

“Good things come in large numbers,” says Dranko.  

Kibi introduces himself and the others, and Peralta looks carefully at each of them.   They look at her expectantly, but after two tense minutes her shoulders droop and she sighs.

“Ahhhh.  I suppose not,” she says.

“Actually, you may be surprised,” says Ernie.  “We have more to show you, but we want to hear the prophecy first.”

“All right,” says Peralta, though she looks unconvinced.  “I am a servant of Na’Lil, the Seeing Flame.  I was passing on a pilgrimage and staying at the this very Inn, when it was Sliced away.

“On the night before we were trapped here, I had a prophetic dream.  In that dream I was sitting in this room, as I am now, by the fire.   The fire spoke to me.   As with all people who visit me, I will share my dream with you.  If your are not the saviors, I will ask you to go forth from this place and spread the word.

“The fire said that when I awoke, I would be trapped in amber.  That I would appear in a room without walls, and yet with many doors.  It said that most of the doors would lead to other lands, but that one door would be black, and it would lead to salvation and certain annihilation.   The Flame said that I was to stay here and guard that door, and warn others of what was beyond it.  That they needed to wait for the saviors to come.  And I would know them, for they would be made of ruby, and emerald, and amethyst, and sapphire.   They would go through the Black Door and find salvation.

"And when I woke up, here I was.  It had all come true.  So now, I wait.”

...to be continued...


----------



## Jackylhunter

Very Cool, but the Mystic is waiting for a person "made of" 4 gems, the party only has 3, unless I've missed something.


----------



## Sagiro

Jackylhunter said:
			
		

> Very Cool, but the Mystic is waiting for a person "made of" 4 gems, the party only has 3, unless I've missed something.



I think you've missed that Scree's eyes are sapphires.  

-Sagiro


----------



## Dherys Thal

Waiting for the mystic to blow a nut...

This is disorienting to read - I wonder if the PCs feel the same way about playing through this planescape...I feel lost and groundless just reading it.  Fantastic plot though...seriously.

And if ever Tapheon gets the best of Dranko, dude could always move to Innsmouth, MA...The evil lord must "hate pons" and rag about them "on the PA", even though in the end there is "no" such thing as "phate".  I was hoping for anagrammatic insight and all I found was nonsense.


----------



## Piratecat

Well, it was worth a try - but any anagrams would be courtesy of WotC, because I think that Tapheon is mentioned briefly by name in the Book of Vile Darkness (yeah, Piratecat, that was a GREAT Christmas gift for Sagiro. Doh.) or the Manual of the Planes. Everything else about him is courtesy of Sagiro.


----------



## Sagiro

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Well, it was worth a try - but any anagrams would be courtesy of WotC, because I think that Tapheon is mentioned briefly by name in the Book of Vile Darkness (yeah, Piratecat, that was a GREAT Christmas gift for Sagiro. Doh.) or the Manual of the Planes. Everything else about him is courtesy of Sagiro.



In the interest of giving WotC the credit they're due: I not only stole the name "Tapheon," but also the name of his fortress and the rod _despoiler of flesh_.  The only things about him I made up were his physical appearance and his personality.   He's the from the Manual of the Planes, but that doesn't change the fact that the Book of Vile Darkness really WAS a great gift.  Thanks!  

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

We won't be making that mistake with your birthday present!  

BTW, today happens to be Sagiro's birthday.  Wish him a happy one, everybody!


----------



## the Jester

Happy Birthday Sagiro!


----------



## Blackjack

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> BTW, today happens to be Sagiro's birthday.  Wish him a happy one, everybody!




Happy birthday, Sagiro!

Here, I got you some dinosaurs.


----------



## Funeris

Happy b-day, Sagiro!
May your days (and ours as well) be blessed with much more RBDM-goodness.


----------



## el-remmen

Sagiro's birthday is today?  Ah-ha! That helps prove my theory that Cancers make the best DMs!!!



(and I'm not saying that because my birthday is next week   )


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Happy Birthday.

GW


----------



## Piratecat

Blackjack said:
			
		

> Here, I got you some dinosaurs.




Now I can't stop laughing!


----------



## KidCthulhu

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Sagiro's birthday is today?  Ah-ha! That helps prove my theory that Cancers make the best DMs!!!
> 
> 
> 
> (and I'm not saying that because my birthday is next week   )




Well Happy Birthday in advance!  But Pkitty and I, both Tauruses (Tauri?) dispute your astrological assertion!


----------



## LightPhoenix

Happy birthday Sagiro!  Somebody needs to get you some roses...


----------



## carpedavid

What has always impressed me about Sagiro is that he manages to be a RBDM in a, well,  geologic timeframe.

Happy birthday!   

P.S. Capricorns make good DMs, too.


----------



## el-remmen

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Well Happy Birthday in advance!  But Pkitty and I, both Tauruses (Tauri?) dispute your astrological assertion!




Bah! Now you're just being bull-headed!


----------



## thatdarncat

Happy birthday Sagiro


----------



## Kesho

Happy Birthday Sagiro!!

I couldn't possibly get you anything that has the same value as your story hour has for us, so I'll just say it again - 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!


----------



## Zaruthustran

Happy Birthday, Sagiro! As a gift I offer you another page view for this thread.

-z


----------



## Sidereal Knight

Jeez... it's HIS birthday, and he's giving US a gift.

Thanks for all your work on this story hour!

Happy Birthday!


----------



## Micah

Happy Birthday! Thanks for the story hour!


----------



## coyote6

Happy Birthday, Sagiro! Mind the dinosaurs.

(Blackjack, that's cool.)


----------



## Duncan Haldane

*Happy Birthday Sagiro!*

Sagiro, 

Happy Birthday, and thanks once again for the hours of enjoyment you have given to all your readers over the years you've been documenting this campaign.

I started reading not long after you first started posting, way back when, and love every minute of it.

Piratecat:
I thought of something you could get Sagiro that might bring a whole new dimension to the campaign, especially for Dranko and Morningstar - 
http://www.enworld.org/reviews.php?do=product&productid=118942



Duncan


----------



## Sagiro

Well, my birthday is officially over.  I "celebrated" by treating my players to a brutal combat, though all of the Company is still standing.  The fight isn't over, but the tide may be turning in their favor, as Morningstar just layed down some _firestorm_-flavored smack that killed one of the prime villains' two powerful servants.  But the main bad guy is still up along with the other of his spiked-chain-wielding, rage-inducing minions, there are _blade barriers_ all over the place, and a few remaining [spoiler redacted] are still making a nuisance of themselves.    

Anyway.  36 years.  Am I really so old as that?  I guess so. Thanks so much for all the kindly birthday wishes, and for your continued readership.   For the record, the Story Hour is holding steady at about 10 runs behind.  In real time, the Company first spoke with Mystic Peralta in late October of 2004.

-Sagiro


----------



## Naathez

I'm late. But Happy birthday Sagiro! Thanks for the wonderful SH you bring us! You're really an inspiration, every time. Best wishes ALL the way from Italy!


----------



## Piratecat

Oh, last night's game was incredibly humbling. We didn't realize that the wussy combat we appeared to be having was an incredibly deadly ambush until far too late, and by that point we were scattered and demoralized without any kind of plan for withdrawing or attacking. It was (and still is) _ugly_ with lots of missed opportunities. Compounding the problem, it appears that my dice don't react well to heat; the first five rolls I made (one of them critically important) were 5, 1, 2, 10 (go me!), and a 1.  Needless to say, Dranko was not precisely the heroic paragon of the battle.

In other words, it's a great fight.

You guys don't want to know what my dreams were like last night. 

It's okay, though; my game is Thursday, and payback is incredibly sweet.


----------



## Ashy

Oh!  To live in Boston!


----------



## Knightfall

Just caught up on this story hour. Excellent stuff, as usual.

The return of "Sagiro" (the NPC) was a fantastic twist. Also, I loved how Dranko called out the Demon Lord. That took guts. And Scree being the One in the Prophecy, is just great thinking on Sagiro's part.

Cheers!

KF72

p.s. Happy Birthday, Sagiro!


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Ashy said:
			
		

> Oh!  To live in Boston!




And to get on the waiting list to play.

GW visits Boston, and looks up The Abernathy crew.

<Lights are playing across the clouds in front of the game clubhouse, a crowd is milling around in the street, and the road is blocked off in both directions, with crowd control police at the barricades and bouncers on the front porch.>

I manage to squeeze to the front of the line, with combinations of misdirecting pinches, pats on the shoulder, and murmured "Excuse me's".  Two gamers get into a slap boxing match over who is better, Ernie or Dranko, tears flying, and red cheeks glowing as the light passes over the crowd.

I make it up to the porch, and begin to ascend, when a meaty hand reaches out, and pushes against my chest.  
*Where do you think you're goin' Huh?*

"To the game sir, I'm a guest player tonight."

Looking at me with obvious disdain, he grabs the much-used clipboard.

*Yer Name?...and spell it.*

"Graywolf sir, G R A Y W O L F."

With a little grin, and a more forceful push on my chest.

*Nope, no one by that spelling of Greywolf, back to the crowd with you.*

"B-b-b-but, it's me, you have to let me in, I'm gonna be a new player."

*No, I don't think so buddy, that list is even longer.  Shoulda spelled your name right.*

"Noooooooo."


----------



## Ashy

Nah, it's not that tough....  You just have to know the password.

[sblock]"Defender Special"  [/sblock]


----------



## Duncan Haldane

Ashy said:
			
		

> Nah, it's not that tough....  You just have to know the password.




"I'm looking for a safehouse"?


----------



## Zaruthustran

Duncan Haldane said:
			
		

> "I'm looking for a safehouse"?




Nice one. 

That place is great.

-z


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 245*_
*First Sight*
_(A short but sweet update)_

The Mystic Peralta, having finished recounting her dream, looks expectantly at the Company.

“That creature with all the gems,” says Kibi.  “He’s with us.  He’s my Familiar.”

Peralta opens her mouth, closes it, frowns.

“You’re a wizard?” she asks skeptically.  “But you’re a dwarf.  I thought dwarves couldn’t be wizards, by their very natures.”

“We tell him he’s a freak all the time,” says Dranko.

“We’re very rare,” says Kibi, throwing an annoyed glance at Dranko.  “My Familiar is an earth elemental.”

Peralta whispers almost reverently:  “And he’s made of gems?”

Kibi shifts uncomfortably at Peralta’s eager look.

“Well, no,” he admits.  “He’s made of granite, though he has sapphires for eyes.  But along the way he’s found some... friends.  Gem friends.  Like an amethyst.  Friend.  Er.”

_I’m not explaining this very well._

“Suffice to say,” interrupts Aravis, “we believe that Scree fulfils your prophecy.”

“I want to see him then,” says Peralta.

Kibi goes outside and has Scree hop into his _familiar pocket_.   He then deposits his Familiar on the floor of Peralta’s room.  The Mystic stares at Scree, searching, but says slowly, “I see sapphires, but no rubies, or emeralds, or...”

“There, inside,” says Kibi, pointing.  “Look there.”

“Those are diamonds,” says Peralta.  Very impressive diamonds, admittedly, but...”

“They turn colors when their magic is turned on,” says Kibi.  “Then they glow and turn into other gems.”

Peralta looks skeptical.  She gestures as if waiting for Scree to demonstrate this transformation.

“They’re not talking, as usual,” says Scree.

After another minute of uncomfortable silence, Dranko clears his throat and says, “Kibi’s telling you the truth.  They opened up a Way for us to get here, that didn’t exist before.”

“Interesting,” says Peralta, but her face tells a story of disappointment.  “That’s... interesting.”

“It doesn’t matter if you believe us or not,” says Aravis.  “We fulfill your prophecy, so we intend to go through the Black Door.”

“Don’t you think that...” begins Peralta.

“We don’t think!” says Dranko earnestly.  “We _know_.”

“If you’re sure,” says Peralta.  “All I do is warn people.  I’m not going to stop you, no matter what I think.  But dozens of people have gone before you, some of whom, like you, claimed they were the Saviors.”

“Did Porridge have information about what was on the other side?” asks Morningstar.

“Pffff,” says Peralta dismissively.  “Porridge’s report was... remarkably free of detail.   But he’s alive, which is remarkable in and of itself, even if he’s never been right since then.”

“Can we heal him?” asks Dranko.

Peralta shrugs her shoulders.  “No one else has been able to.”

“When we go through the Black Door we can bring some of the others with us,” says Dranko.  “It’ll be like a private army.”

“I don’t know,” says Morningstar.  “I don’t want to get distracted by additional people we’ll have to protect.”

“I’m not saying we should bring kids along like it’s a field trip,” says Dranko.  “But if, say, a bad-ass kobold with a spoon wanted to come with us...”

Peralta shakes her head.

“If you’re going to take others with you, I hope you’re _very_ sure you’re the ones.”

“Look,” says Dranko.  “This whole place... this “room without walls”... is powered by one of those.”   He points to one of the Eyes or Moirel inside Scree.  “A different one, I mean.   It’s very powerful, and sits in the center of this place like a spider in a web.”

“And these Eyes have been spouting prophecy and generally running our lives for years now,” says Morningstar.  

“They brought us here to get the third one,” adds Kibi.

“One of them turns purple, like amethyst, and one of them turns green, like an emerald, and one of them turns red, like ruby,” says Aravis.  “We’ve seen it.  We know.”

“I think I do believe you, and like I said, I won’t stop you,” says Peralta.  “But... if it’s not you, I wouldn’t give much for your chances.”

“One way or another, we’re going through,” says Ernie.  

It appears that their interview with Mystic Peralta has run its course.  As they leave her room and head down the hallway to the stairway, they start making plans to train here in Bakersfield, which seems like a well protected and well-suited place for it.  

Ernie is halfway down the stairs and looking out over the commons when it happens.

Just inside the door stands a vision that stops his very breath.  Her tabard is green and gold, emblazoned with the cornucopia of Yondalla and perfectly complementing her brilliant green eyes.    The hilt of a halfling Greatsword peeks up over her strong shoulder.   She has the face of an angel, flowing blonde hair, and a pious aura that Ernie can feel from across the room.

The halfling woman also stops, her eyes drawn to Ernie.  A delicate blush creeps up her fair cheeks, but she does not avert her gaze, and neither does he.  They stare at each other, hearts racing, and the whole of the Wily Weasel fades away.  Ernie is barely aware that his legs are moving, as he floats toward her, smitten.

...to be continued...


----------



## Thornir Alekeg

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Just inside the door stands a vision that stops his very breath.  Her tabard is green and gold, emblazoned with the cornucopia of Yondalla and perfectly complementing her brilliant green eyes.    The hilt of a halfling Greatsword peeks up over her strong shoulder.   She has the face of an angel, flowing blonde hair, and a pious aura that Ernie can feel from across the room.




And she smells like freshly baked bread?...


----------



## Piratecat

Ernest, meet Yoba. Yoba, meet Ernest. Dranko, meet nausea.


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

> “We don’t think!” says Dranko earnestly.




True dat.


----------



## Wolfspirit

Side note: Black Door of "annihilation"?  Is it just me, or does anyone else's meta-game sense tingle?

And what's the time frame between this and Velendo's first use of Regeneration ever?

(Would be a true Rat Bastard way to end a campaign, have a Sphere of Anihilation as the prophesiesed end.  When the players march boldly through awaiting the climax of the story, just tell them what happened as their characters face oblivion)


----------



## Plane Sailing

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Anyway.  36 years.  Am I really so old as that?  I guess so.




Don't let anyone kid you, Sagiro - you are a spring chicken!

BTW - Sagiro and red rubies, mustache icon on a red background - co-incidence or foreshadowing? 

Cheers


----------



## KidCthulhu

[singing]
Met her one day in the Wily Warthog
I asked her her name 
and in a light, high voice she said Yoba.

Y-O-B-A, Yoba.  Yo-yo-yo-yo Yoba.

[/singing]


----------



## Tamlyn

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> [singing]
> Met her one day in the Wily Warthog
> I asked her her name
> and in a light, high voice she said Yoba.
> 
> Y-O-B-A, Yoba.  Yo-yo-yo-yo Yoba.
> 
> [/singing]




Great. The last thing I expected this morning was a "Weird Al" parody.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Tamlyn said:
			
		

> Great. The last thing I expected this morning was a "Weird Al" parody.




Noooo0ooo one expects a "Weird Al" Parody...
=)


----------



## KidCthulhu

Actually, it's a Kinks parody.  Wierd Al just did the same thing.  I'd sue, but he kinda did it first!


----------



## Plane Sailing

The first song that came to my mind was

[singing badly]
Yo-ba, she was a show-girl
With yellow flowers in her hair and a tabard cut to there
She ate meringues, and drank hot cha
And while she tried to be a star, Ernie always tended bar
Across a crowded floor, they worked from 8 till 4
They were young and they had each other
Who could ask for more?
[/singing badly]

Cheers!


----------



## Zaruthustran

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Ernest, meet Yoba. Yoba, meet Ernest. Dranko, meet nausea.




Well, at least this guy will be pleased.

-z


----------



## KidCthulhu

Thanks, Plane.  Now I'll be singing Copacabana all day.  Grrrrr.


----------



## Jarrod

I thought it was a "Star Wars Cantina" parody.... <gd&r>


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

I was initially thinking Van Morrison/Them...


----------



## Plane Sailing

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Thanks, Plane.  Now I'll be singing Copacabana all day.  Grrrrr.




My work here is done


----------



## KidCthulhu

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> My work here is done



 Don't think my revenge won't be swift, and thingy.  Revengeful.


----------



## Plane Sailing

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Don't think my revenge won't be swift, and thingy.  Revengeful.




Uh, does that mean that this is a *bad *time to ask you about the title and author of that book about dogs? And that Brownies receipe I was going to write down?


----------



## LightPhoenix

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> Uh, does that mean that this is a *bad *time to ask you about the title and author of that book about dogs? And that Brownies receipe I was going to write down?




Just disregard any ingredients that are like "1 tsp. baby poop" or authors that are "Butts, Seymore".


----------



## Funeris

> Just disregard any ingredients that are like "1 tsp. baby poop" or authors that are "Butts, Seymore".




Don't forget the amazingly superfluous author I.P. Freely.  You never want to read his work.


----------



## Richard Rawen

*in trouble at work*

again

and it is because I'm reading this story hour at work

again

and now I came across something that made me snort and choke in suprised mirth

again

and it was so funny I HAD to post... but I'm still at least 10 pages behind current so it will likely be Really Old News to most of you... yes, of course, again!
Here's what I just found, as the party sits under a balcony in the Giant courtyard at Het Branoi, trying to figure out a password for the door.  Of course Dranko has hurled an insult out of frustration and the following exchange just had me rolling:

 “I don’t think Edghar likes that kind of talk,” says Ernie, glancing at Grey Wolf.

 “I can always have the last laugh,” thinks Edghar to his master.  “_He’s_ not likely to take a poop where _I’m_ sleeping, if you catch my drift.”

 “Don’t count on it,” warns Grey Wolf.

YIKES! 

Anyways, I'm in a posting mood, so I had to share and say that I am really enjoying the story and thank you so much for taking the time to share it with us Sagiro!

Blessings,
Richard
M < > <


----------



## Sagiro

Man, hundreds of pages of Story, and what causes people to comment?  The poop jokes!    Richard, I'm glad you're enjoying the tale.  It's my pleasure to write it, and as I've said before, having a thorough written record of the campaign makes it much easier to maintain continuity.

Now, a warning about this post.  It's long, and nothing really happens.  It's all dialogue.  If you're reading thie story to find out how the plot advances, you can save yourself some time and wait for the next one.  


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 246*_
*Chit Chat*

It only takes a second for Flicker to figure out he has no chance. 

She’s beautiful, no doubt about it, and he’d love to get to know her better, but even from across the room it’s obvious where her attention lies.  And Ernie – well, one look at _him_, and it’s clear he’d best not get in the way.   Flicker contents himself with an exaggerated sigh.

“Good luck, Ernie,” he whispers wistfully.

Ernie has reached the bottom of the stairs, and the halfling woman has taken a few steps toward him, when she is interrupted by a small weedy man in green robes.   She lets her gaze linger on Ernie for a final second before attending to this new arrival.  Dranko, watching things unfold with a keen interest, narrows his eyes.  He tugs Grey Wolf by the sleeve.

“Come on,” he says.

Dranko and Grey Wolf weave across the floor of the commons until they’ve reached the small man and the halfling woman.  Dranko puts his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Excuse me,” he says loudly.  “Can we talk to you for a minute?  Ma’am, you can...er... go about your business.”  Dranko smiles reassuringly at the woman.  She returns the smile, then hurriedly glances at Ernie, who is now rushing over.   He’s horrified that Dranko might, with the best of all intentions, be ruining everything. 

The small man looks up at Dranko.  He’s wearing a medallion around his neck with a clock-face design.

“Hello, hello,” he says.

“We’re new here,” says Dranko, “and everyone says you’re the one to talk to if we want to find out what’s what.”

“Really?” says the little man with a nervous smile.   “They say that?  About me?  How nice!  I’m Terrence.”

“Hi Terrence.  I’m Dranko.  Let’s go over to that corner table, and I’ll buy you a drink.”

“You can tell us what’s going on here,” says Grey Wolf, nodding.

They depart just as Ernie arrives.   The others have followed at a discreet distance, still mildly suspicious of anything that looks too good to be true.

“I’m sorry,” says Ernie, unable to keep the worry from his voice.  “Did my friend say anything offensive?”

“No, he... no.  He seemed to want to talk to Terrence most urgently, though.”

Ernie breathes an inward sigh of relief, and gestures to the retreating Dranko.  “He’s a diamond in the rough, and his heart’s in the right place, but sometimes his mouth isn’t engaged to his brain.”

“And other times it _is_ engaged,” mutters Kibi, overhearing.  “And then he’s even worse!”

“I’m Ernest!,” says Ernie, remembering his manners.  “At your service.”

“I’m Yoba,” answers the woman, reaching out to shake Ernie’s hand.   Flicker smiles ruefully as the pair’s hands stay clasped a moment longer than is strictly necessary for an introductory handshake.   Yoba seems to realize this too, after a few seconds have passed, and let’s go of Ernie with a blush.  

“Ernest, are you preparing for battle?” she asks, glancing at his plate mail.

“Almost constantly,” says Ernie.   “You see, we’ve been wandering the Slices quite a bit, and we have to stay ready.”

“I understand,” says Yoba, nodding.

“But it is awfully hot in this tin can, now that you mention it,” says Ernie.

“Then why don’t you take it off...” begins Yoba, who then stops, embarrassed.  Ernie can’t help but think how Yoba’s face becomes even more lovely when she blushes.

 “I mean, you’re quite safe here,” she finishes, smiling shyly.  “Do you do a lot of fighting?”

“Yes,” says Ernie.  “My friends and I.  We spend a lot of time saving the world.”

“Really?” asks Yoba, her eyes widening.  “What is your world called?”

“Abernia,” says Ernie.  “And we’re not actually from a Slice.  I mean, our world wasn’t Sliced off like the rest.   My friends and I, we came here on purpose.”

“Why?” asks Yoba.

“To change history, and return our world to the way it should be.”

Yoba looks genuinely impressed, and Ernie feels a surge of confidence.  Steeling himself to do something extremely brave, something he’s never done before in his life, he takes a deep breath.

“Can I... can I buy you a drink?” he asks.

Yoba’s face lights up.  “Yes, of course!  That’s very kind of you.”  She looks embarrassed again for a minute, and then says softly.  “What I really enjoy here is milk.”

“I love milk!” exclaims Ernie, delighted.  “Though we don’t drink it very often since we travel so much.”

“Have you seen the cows here?” asks Yoba.  “They have six legs, but the milk is excellent.”

“Six legs!” says Ernie.  “That means two extra joints per cow.”

“Oh,” says Yoba.  “Are you a cook?”

“Every time I get the chance,” says Ernie proudly.

“I do some cooking, but I’m not very good at it,” says Yoba, and her modesty seems genuine.   “I serve Yondalla in more... martial ways.”

“Oh, me too!” says Ernie, eager to assure there’s nothing inherently wrong with well-intentioned violence.  “I mean, I cook, but I also fight.  And heal, sometimes.  Oh, let me get our milks.  I think I see a free table.  I’ll meet you there.”

Ernie wafts in blissful reverie to the bar, studiously avoiding looking at Dranko.


* *


“So, what’s with the holy symbol?”

Dranko points at Terrence’s olive-colored medallion, which shows a stylized clock face.

“Oh, that,” says Terrence.  “Well, you see, I’m a priest of the Noofr.   God of Cleanliness and Punctuality.”

“Cleanliness _and_ punctuality!” exclaims Dranko.  “You don’t say?”

The half-orc whips out a blacktallow cigar and lights up, which sends Terrence into a mild fit of coughing.

“I’m a cleric of Delioch, God of Healing.”

“We have several healing Gods,” says Terrence.

“Several?” Dranko raises an eyebrow.

“Yes.  They are among the Thousand Gods of Corrish.”

“A thousand Gods,” says Dranko, sounding impressed.  Then he asks, “So, what do you do with dirty stuff?”

Terrence blinks.  “Clean it, of course.”

“And what if cleaning stuff makes you late?” asks Dranko.

Terrence sighs and squints at Dranko.  “Are you sure you’re a cleric?”

“Yeah, of course!” answers Dranko, taking another puff of his cigar.  “I’ve even got a holy symbol around here somewhere...”

“He is,” confirms Grey Wolf.  “Believe it or not.”

“Yes.  Well.”  Terrence may in fact be starting to feel as if he’s being mocked.  “What is it again that you wanted to know?”

“Tell us about the portals in and out, and the people, and... oh, your thoughts about time,” says Dranko, returning to acting serious for moment.  “It must be fascinating for someone who worships a God of Punctuality to be in a place where time doesn’t actually pass.  You can’t be late!”

Terrence smiles again.   “Oh, no no no!  _Relative_ time still passes, and one can _still_ be late.  It’s _aging_ that doesn’t happen.  That’s different.  It’s winter again, for instance.  I’ve been here a year, and the seasons most definitely change.  Anyhow, I help Prinn, in the tending of the sick and wounded.   I...I do have some abilities to heal.”

“What’s the sickest person you ever healed?” asks Dranko.

“Well, Crieger had with a terrible rash.  He arrived with it.  I’ll bet he picked it up from the Dark Dwarves on his way here.”

“Dark Dwarves?” asks Dranko.  He leans forward a bit, since this is the first thing Terrence has said that he actually finds interesting.

“Yes, Dark Dwarves.  I understand that one of the Ways out from the Lions’ Slice goes underground, and evil dwarves live there.  Now, I personally came from one of the Ways that’s gray now; the one that went gray just a few months ago.  So, my plan is just to stay here, until _something_ happens, and then find my way home somehow.”

“Ever had any experience in combat?” asks Dranko, finally getting to the point.

“Er.. a little,” says Terrence, taken aback.  “I try to avoid it whenever possible,” he adds, laughing.  “I prefer to heal than to need healing.”

“How would you feel about being in the back line of a battle, helping heal people who are injured?” Dranko prompts.  “Saving lives, that sort of thing?”

“Well, I... I don’t... don’t have any experience with that, so I...”

“Oh, I bet you’d be great!  Grey Wolf, don’t’ you think?”

“Yes, I think so,” says Grey Wolf, trying to look like he means it.

“Are you planning on having a... a battle?  Here?” asks Terrence nervously.

“No, not here,” says Dranko truthfully.

“Well, that’s good,” says Terrence, relieved.  “There hasn’t been fighting here, not since I’ve arrived.  The Lions protect one of the Ways, and nothing comes from the Ocean Way.   Nothing comes out of the Slime Tunnels either, except Garg.”

“Garg?” asks Grey Wolf.

“You haven’t met Garg the Great?” asks Terrence.  It’s strange to hear such obvious sarcasm come from the inoffensive little man.  “He’s an orcish wizardly person who thinks very highly of himself.  I don’t think highly of him at all.  He’s a pompous a...  Excuse me.  He’s pompous.  And annoying.”

Dranko sneezes, and quick as lightning Terrence whips out a handkerchief and hands it to him.  “Can never have too many,” he says, smiling.

Drank blows his nose.  “You want it back?” he asks, extending the sopping cloth.  

“No!  No, really, keep it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”


* *

Ernie brings back the milks to the table where Yoba awaits.  _She’s so beautiful.  And she likes milk!_

“Thank you!” says Yoba, smiling, and when she takes her cup from him their hands touch briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through Ernie’s body.

“So, how do _you_ come to be here?” asks Ernie, after he’s recovered with a sip of milk.

“Same as everyone else... except you.  A bit of my world was sliced away.  It was just me.  I was off scouting... wandering, I mean...  by myself.” 

“So you’re here without your home, your family... without anything, or anyone?” says Ernie, horrified.    

“Yes,” says Yoba, though she doesn’t seem as distraught about it as Ernie does on her behalf.  “I do often wonder what my friends and family think has happened to me.  But I’m sure I’ll find my way back there someday.  My country is called Evergreen.”  

“That’s a nice name,” says Ernie.  “I’m from Dingman’s Ferry myself.  It’s just a small village, but it’s home, and I like it.  But... what happened then?”

“When I found a Way out of my Slice of Evergreen, I found myself in a very strange place,” says Yoba.  “It was a world that was alive.  A strange folded...being, I think.  It’s hard to describe.  It... pushed me around in its folds, until I was forced through a second Way, and into where the Lions live.  And then to here.  And this seems like a good place to me.   I don’t know how I feel about Peralta, but I don’t entirely discount what she says.  I thought I could do some good here.  I have some modest healing skills, so I help out Prinn and Terrence.  And in case there’s ever any incursions, I can fight.  I’m... I’m quite skilled.  At fighting.  So, here I am.  But your life has probably been much more interesting than mine.  Tell me about your adventures with your friends!”


* *

The rest of the Company can’t help but smile at the sight of Ernie animatedly gesturing to an attentive Yoba, as he tells her the tales of their various quests.  Only Morningstar, always suspecting, worries that Ernie might end up giving away secrets that even a paladin of Yondalla oughtn’t be told.    But even she finds it difficult to throw any water on Ernie right now.  

“You see that halfling over there?” says Dranko to Terrence.  “He looks self-effacing, but he’s our leader.  He’s the most qualified fighting man I’ve ever met.   A born leader.  If anyone asks, spread the word.”

Aravis can’t help but add:  “In fact, he slew all his rivals back home.”

The others nod, trying their darndest not to laugh.

“But he’s a man of good heart,” adds Dranko, when Terrence starts to look nervous again. “So, how do you reckon we can help around here?”

“What can you do?” asks Terrence, casting a last worried glance at Ernie.  

“We can heal,” says Dranko.  “We’re very good at healing.”

“We usually have enough healing to meet the town’s need,” says Terrence.  “Can you...uh, can you farm?”

“Not very well,” admits Dranko.  “But I can do _this_.  Want another drink?”

Dranko brings up his whip, and quick as anything curls the end around a mug of ale on the tray of a passing barmaid.  With a deft flick he snaps the mug into his empty hand with only a minimum of spillage, and hands it to Terrence with a smile.

“Er... thank you,” says Terrence  “I don’t... I don’t know that we _need_ people for that, but... most impressive, I assure you.  Um.  If you don’t farm, can you build?”

“I can whip people do make them work harder,” says Dranko, leering.  “Does that count?”

“That’s awful!” exclaims Terrence.

“I’m kidding,” says Dranko, shaking his head.  “I only whip bad guys.”

“Kidding, of course!  Ha ha!”  Terrence’s laugh has reached new heights of nervousness.

“What he’s really good at is making off-color jokes,” says Grey Wolf.

“And blustering,” adds Aravis.  “Don’t forget blustering.”

A tall, rangy man, standing almost six and a half feet and moving like a warrior, comes up and puts his hand on Terrence’s shoulder.  

“Terrence isn’t boring you to death, is he?” asks the man, flashing a rakish smile.

“No, not at all,” says Dranko.  “Terrence has been incredibly helpful.”

“Jack!” says Terrence, though his smile is forced.  “Er... hi!”

“Incredibly helpful?” says Jack.  “Good for you, Terrence!”  Jack slaps Terrence on the back so hard that the little priest rocks forward and spills some of his ale.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little rude?” asks Dranko flatly.

“Oh, it’s all in good fun,” laughs Jack.  

Dranko’s not smiling.  “Terrence, are you having fun with this guy?” he asks.

Terrence looks from Jack, to Dranko, back to Jack again, wondering what the right answer is.


* *


Ernie, noticing this exchange on the other side of the room, pauses in his narrative to ask Yoba, “Who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Jack,” says Yoba.  “He’s kind of a scoundrel, but I think he means well.”

“Well, I don’t like to see little guys like that get pushed around.”

“Jack’s always looking to get ahead,” says Yoba.  “He looks for the angle.  He doesn’t trust people very much, and doesn’t expect others to trust him.  But he’s not a bad sort.”

“I’ll bet he and Dranko would get along like a house on fire,” says Ernie.  “I mean, with people around them screaming and running away.”

Yoba laughs.  It’s the most beautiful sound Ernie has ever heard.

“Dranko,” says Ernie with a sigh.  “He seems like quite the character.  But like I said, his heart’s in the right place.  And I should know... I heal it often enough!”

Yoba laughs again, and Ernie is positively flushed with happiness that she enjoys his jokes.  That, or the milk is going to his head.


* *


“Jack,” says Dranko, sounding as serious as he can.  “You might want to be careful pickin’ on guys smaller than you.  Otherwise I might have to get my friend over there to beat you up.”  He points at Ernie.

Jack looks over, but doesn’t’ take the bait.  “I’m not picking on anyone, sir,” he says, just as seriously.  “I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself.  My name is Jack.”

“Dranko Blackhope.”  He stands up, and the rest of the Company also introduces themselves.  When he shakes Aravis’s hand, Jack says “Nice eyes,” but otherwise seems unimpressed.   As he shakes Kibi’s hand, he says, “I had a good friend who was a dwarf.  He died in combat, like a true warrior.   Nearly died myself in that fight.”

As Jack pulls up a chair, Dranko asks, “So, Jack, where you from?  And what we’re you doing when you got Sliced?”

“I was on a job,” says Jack.  “A... requisitioning assignment.”

“Oh!” says Dranko.  “Stealing stuff!  You could have just told us you were a sneak thief.  Doesn’t bother us!”

“I’m not _just_ a sneak thief,” says Jack with an easy smile.  “I have many abilities.”

“It looks like you’re a warrior as well,” says Grey Wolf, and Jack nods.  

(Ernie is now telling Yoba about the time Grey Wolf was run down by an animated carriage in Tev.  Yoba is absolutely entranced.)

“So, you’ve talked to Peralta, I take it,” says Jack.  “Whaddya think?  What’s her angle?”

“Her angle?” says Dranko, raises his eyebrows.  “She’s not charging people, is she?  And I don’t think she has a hankering for gems, and is just trying to smoke ‘em out.”

“That thought had occurred to me,” admits Jack.

“I think she’s what she seems to be,” says Aravis.

“Tell you one thing,” says Dranko, looking carefully at Jack’s expression.  “If her savior actually _does_ show up, I want a piece of that action.  What about you?”

“If I had a good reason to think she’s on the up and up, and we really were going to get out of here,” says Jack casually.  “I’ve only been here a few weeks.   Of the four of us who were on the job, I’m the only one left.”

“What, you kill ‘em and take their stuff?” asks Dranko with a laugh.  Jack doesn’t look amused.

“That’s not funny,” he says, glowering.

“I’m sorry they died,” says Dranko, quickly becoming serious.

“Yeah, me too.  They were killed by...  Duergar, I think they’re called.   Evil dwarves.”

“Yeah, well, Kibi here’s not evil,” says Dranko.  “You can tell by the way he braids his beard.”

“I think you can tell something like that just by looking at a person,” says Jack.  “You for instance.  I don’t think _you’re_ evil either, even though you look it.”

Dranko notices that Jack’s got a rapier, and four obviously-magical daggers strapped to his chest.  He points to a distant support beam near a wall of the common room, where there aren’t any patrons.

“Say.  I’ll bet you a silver piece that you can’t hit that knot – the one that looks like a rabbit – with one of your daggers.”

Jack glances over his shoulder.  With an easy motion he pulls a dagger from its holster and flips it backhanded, not even bothering to watch its flight.  It strikes dead in the center of the knot.  While the Company stares, he holds up his hand.  The dagger quivers, pulls itself free of the post, and flies back into his hand. 

“That was worth it!” says Dranko, genuinely impressed.

“Keep the money,” says Jack, smiling.  “But yeah, I’d want a ‘piece of the action’ if I thought there was something to it.  ‘Course, I’d have to be awfully convinced.   I assume you’ve seen the...remains.”

“Remains?” asks Grey Wolf.  “No, we haven’t.  What remains?”

“The stuff they’ve pulled out of the Black Door.  The bits tied to ropes they’ve pulled out.  Limbs, mostly.  Torsos.  I don’t think they have any heads.   The remains are buried – I’ve never seen them.  Peralta’s little guy, who runs around keeping the torches lit... he buries ‘em.”


* *


“And then there was this giant insane dragon!” says Ernie.  “Flicker almost got eaten, and...”

Yoba has not looked away during the entire tale, a fact which has not gone unnoticed by Ernie, and which really _is_ going to his head like strong drink.  Morningstar decides that _someone_ ought to be over there with them, to stop Ernie before he can say something that’s supposed to be a secret.

“I think I’ll join those two,” she says, pointing at the pair of halflings.  

“Good luck,” says Dranko.  “Should we tie a rope to you?”

“We can count to ten Abernathys and pull you out,” says Kibi.

Morningstar laughs, and wanders over to where Ernie is telling his tale.

“...and Aravis was able to stop the Emperor from invading,” says Ernie.  “So all that was left to do was the mopping up.  It was huge battle, but we won!”

“Ernest, may I join you?”  Morningstar has appeared at their table.  Ernie hadn’t noticed her approach.  

“Of course!” says Ernie, shocked out of his reverie.  “Yoba, this is my friend Morningstar.  She’s a priestess of Ell.”

“Goddess of Darkness and Dreams,” adds Morningstar.

“Well, any friend of Ernie’s...” says Yoba pleasantly.   “Ernie has been telling me the most amazing stories of your adventures!   I assume you were there with the insane Dragon, while armies were pouring through magical gateways.  I’ve never heard anything so fantastic!  I’ve been in my share of battles, but nothing like that.  Incredible!  You must be famous heroes back in Abernia.”

Hearing it put like that, Ernie _does_ suddenly think that he may have been saying too much.   Grasping for a more innocuous subject, he says, “Well, we _did_ have a parade...”

“You did?   A parade?  For you?”  Yoba’s eyes are shining with admiration.

“For all of us,” Ernie adds hastily.  “Morningstar here was in it, too.   Er... so, what kind of battles have _you_ been in?”

“Mostly battles against the goblin empire,” says Yoba.  “It’s the biggest threat to Evergreen.  The Goblins control almost a third of Treya.  And I’m... well, I’m... I’m the Commander of the Southern Border.”

Now it’s Ernie’s turn to gawk.   “Really?  And I’ve been babbling away all this time.  I’m just an adventurer.”

“I’ve killed lost of goblins,” continues Yoba.  “But I also spend a lot of time in tents, looking at maps, and advising the General as to what the battle plans should be.   I was on a scouting expedition for him when I ended up here.  I like to see the terrain for myself, and since we occupy most of the high ground along the border, I thought I'd get the lay of the land.  See if I could spot anything about goblin troop disposition or formations.  I could see a long way from the high hills, and we had plenty of sentries on the hillsides, so I wasn’t in any personal danger.”

“How many people do you command?” Morningstar asks.

“Directly, or down through the hierarchy?” asks Yoba, starting to blush again.

“The whole group,” says Morningstar.

“I’d say... about twenty thousand?”

“Twenty thousand!” squawks Ernie.  “I’m lucky if I can just get Dranko to do what I ask!”

“There are plenty of people with greater fighting prowess than me,” says Yoba, clearly self-conscious.  “It’s humbling to command them.  But I have a good head for strategy.  I... I studied a long time.”

Across the room the rest of the Company is laughing uproariously, making “ten Abernathy” jokes and wondering if Morningstar herself now needs rescuing.  Yoba can’t hear what they’re saying, but smiles at Ernie and Morningstar.  

“You have nice friends,” she says.  

“Yes, I do!” says Ernie, waving at the rest of the Company.  This causes them to come over, and Yoba can’t help but stare for a minute at Aravis’s eyes.  Then she quickly apologizes for staring.

“Were you born that way?” she asks, fascinated.

“No.  It was the result of a magical ritual.”

“I think I understand,” says Yoba.   “We have several wizards in the military.  One of them has strange skin.  Not in the same way you do, but it was from an experiment that went awry.”

Morningstar start to introduce Yoba as ‘Commander,’ but the halfling interrupts.

“Just Yoba, please.  Yoba Stoutheart.  I’m not commanding anyone here.”

“I’m Sir Dranko, of the Spire Guard.  Like Ernie here.”

“You’re a knight?” asks Yoba, turning to Ernie.  “You didn’t tell me that!  What’s the Spire Guard?  Tell me all about it!

In the middle of the explanation, a stout dwarf comes marching over to their now-crowded table.  He’s not armored, but wears a hammer at his belt and what looks like a holy symbol around his neck.  It’s design is a plain stone shield. 

“Hey there!” he says gruffly.

Yoba turns and smiles at the newcomer.  “Kiro, welcome.  You should meet my new friends.”

After the round of introductions, Kibi says, “I haven’t seen many dwarves around here.” 

“Yeah, me neither,” says Kiro.  “Nice to see a true dwarf.   Better than a Duergar!”

“Where are you from?” asks Kibi.  “Are you a warrior?”

“Decent enough, but I’m a priest by trade,” says Kiro.

“Of Moradin?”

“No.  Of Vigus, the Defender.  But I have fought plenty, including some nasty stuff just to get here. First is was Yeti in some snowy Slice, and then some Wyverns.  You ever fought a Yeti?”

“Not Yeti,” says Dranko with a smirk, and sending  Kiro into howls of laughter.

“How do you fight against Yeti?” asks Kibi.

“Same way I fight most things,” says Kiro, grinning.  “Off with their kneecaps!”

Dranko thinks, _If he were any more dwarfish, he’d vomit rocks_.

“I was down in the tunnels under our mountain, me and a buddy,” explains Kiro, when Kibi presses him for more details.   “On our way to spar, so I had a weapon on me, thank Vigus.  Anyhow, I look back after he doesn’t respond to a joke, and he’s just standing there not moving,  And I couldn’t reach him, like there was an invisible wall between us.  Just a Slice boundary, though I didn’t know it at the time.  So, I figured I’d go get help.  But damned if there wasn’t a blue Way blocking the tunnel in the other direction.  I went through it, and found myself somewhere cold, snow everywhere.  That’s where I fought the Yeti.    That was about three years ago.  I help out Prinn and Terrence, just like Yoba here.  It’s a decent enough place, but I miss my home.”

“Say, isn’t there an orc around here somewhere?” asks Dranko, figuring a dwarf would know.

“Yeah,” says Kiro, who starts laughing again at the thought.  “He’s... heh...  he’s learned to stay away from me.  Heh.  Not that I ever laid a hand on him, mind you.”

“You have a problem with orcs then?” challenges Dranko.

“I don’t have a problem with _you_, if that’s what you mean,” says Kiro.

The dwarf goes on to describe the Slime Tunnels.  The Slimes, he says, are supposedly alive, and will attack anyone who tries to traverse the subterranean ways, or so he’s heard.  “’Garg the Great’ came out them pretty much unharmed,” says Kiro, scratching under his beard.  “He always claims he’s gonna go back, get a whole bunch of orcs, and take over the place.   But he’s full of hot air.”

At the Company’s request, Kiro gives them directions to where they can find Porridge.   “Has a little house,” says Kiro.  “Keeps to himself.  Prinn brings him food, to make sure he eats.  He’s crazy.”

“Curable?” asks Morningstar.

“Prinn doesn’t think so,” answers Kiro, shaking his head.  “She says something in his mind is broken, and no one can fix it.”

“Well, wonderful meeting you,” says Kibi.  

The party decides to pay Porridge a visit right then, and all rise from the table.

“Poor guy,” says Yoba.  “Prinn has tried her most powerful curatives.  And I’ve heard that a priest who is no longer here tried the prayer of _heal_ on him, and even that did not restore him.”

“We have some things we can try,” says Ernie.  “Would you like to come with us?”

“Of course!” answers Yoba.

And so they take their leave of the Wily Warthog, to see what they can learn from the one man who’s returned alive from beyond the Black Door.


...to be continued...


----------



## Jackylhunter

Cool Stuff!!

Ernie and Yoba, sittin in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G...


----------



## RangerWickett

Sagiro, I didn't realize until today that not all the Slices have been stuck there the same amount of time. One guy's only been there for a few weeks, but some folks have been stuck for decades. Is that true? Does the group know why?


----------



## Sagiro

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> Sagiro, I didn't realize until today that not all the Slices have been stuck there the same amount of time. One guy's only been there for a few weeks, but some folks have been stuck for decades. Is that true? Does the group know why?



At this point in the story, no, the Company doesn't know why.  They find out a few runs later, but that would be a spoiler.  

-Sagiro


----------



## LightPhoenix

_"She’s so beautiful. And she likes milk"_

Hilarious!  Go Ernie!!!

Ten bucks says she's evil.


----------



## Fade

So, Yoba. New party member, or Black Circle spy (carefully disguised for maximum appeal to the most trusting party member)? Now taking guesses.


----------



## shilsen

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> _"She’s so beautiful. And she likes milk"_
> 
> Hilarious!  Go Ernie!!!
> 
> Ten bucks says she's evil.



 No, no - her being evil would not be RBDM enough. She'll be completely, purely good. And the PCs will end up having to fight her anyway


----------



## RangerWickett

She's lactose intolerant, but was too polite to decline milk.  *dramatic music*


----------



## Cerebral Paladin

My theory is that she's one of Tapheon's succubi.  She's just a little too perfect and follows on the heels of one of Tapheon's servants teasing Ernie about his lack of romantic experience.  It seems like the perfect way to both insinuate a spy/agent, and to be extraordinarily cruel to a kind and good halfling--exactly what Tapheon would want to do.  The only real sticking points I see are timing (how long has Yoba been in this Slice relative to when Tapheon's minions picked up the Company?) and the aura of good, although it seems like that could be explained by some form of empathic projection making everyone think that you feel good (probably with an undetectable alignment effect up as additional cover).


----------



## KidCthulhu

Man, you people are suspicious.  What's so strange about a beautiful halfling maiden falling for Ernie?  He's quite a catch, you know.  Rich, single, a good cook, ennobled, powerful.  Of course, you do get regular visits from Dranko with the package, but the course of true love n'ere did run true.


----------



## Morte

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> What's so strange about a beautiful halfling maiden falling for Ernie?  He's quite a catch, you know.  Rich, single, a good cook, ennobled, powerful.



The milk has obviously gone to your head.


----------



## Orichalcum

*Yoba= Evil*

Whatever Yoba wants, Yoba gets, 
And little man, little Yoba wants you
Make up your mind to have, no regrets
Recline yourself, resign yourself, you're through.

I always hit, what I aim for,
And your heart and soul, is what I came for.
Whatever Yoba wants, Yoba gets
Take off your plate, don't you know you can't win...


----------



## KidCthulhu

Orichalcum said:
			
		

> Whatever Yoba wants, Yoba gets,




Never was a musical more aptly named.  Damn Yankees.  (says KidC from Boston!)


----------



## Everett

Orichalcum said:
			
		

> Whatever Yoba wants, Yoba gets,
> And little man, little Yoba wants you
> Make up your mind to have, no regrets
> Recline yourself, resign yourself, you're through.
> 
> I always hit, what I aim for,
> And your heart and soul, is what I came for.
> Whatever Yoba wants, Yoba gets
> Take off your plate, don't you know you can't win...





What the hell??


----------



## Len

Everett said:
			
		

> What the hell??



http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0051516/


----------



## weiknarf

Yoba = a boY

It's a man, baby


----------



## coyote6

It sounds like one of three things: One, a setup for the Company to fight a band of rival adventurers (e.g.,  they are all somehow convinced that the Company is up to No Good, and Must Be Stopped; combat ensues). Two, a bunch of friendly types for the PCs to get to like, that will then be slaughtered mercilessly (thus demonstrating for the Company what not to do). Or, finally, the Company _really_ needs reinforcements, and almost everyone is taking (or getting as a bonus feat) Leadership, and are about to collect their cohorts (Ernie->Yoba, Kibi->Kiro, Dranko->Jack or Garg, etc.).

Or, of course, answer (d) All of the above.


----------



## Piratecat

You forgot option E, none of the above.


----------



## Zaruthustran

Or (F): These new NPCs are the bizarro world mirror images of the Company. Sagiro never did say whether or not they have goatees...

-z


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

It does kind of have a "Shaun of the Dead" vibe, where they're walking in the alley and run into the mirror-versions of themselves, all heading out to bash in some zombie skulls with post-hole diggers and shovels.


----------



## Piratecat

Nope, I put in a vote for good old-fashioned adventuring types... lots of them, of different shapes and sizes. Like the Eye of the Storm, they just happened to congregate in this spot because there's a woman who claims to know what's going on.

The really rat-bastardy thing is what happens _next_.


----------



## weiknarf

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Nope, I put in a vote for good old-fashioned adventuring types... lots of them, of different shapes and sizes. Like the Eye of the Storm, they just happened to congregate in this spot because there's a woman who claims to know what's going on.
> 
> The really rat-bastardy thing is what happens _next_.




Someone made up of rubies, emeralds, amethysts, and sapphires shows up?


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 247*_
*Memory of a Dark Place*

“He’s not raving mad,” explains Yoba, as the Company walks down the main street of Bakersfield.  “He’s just... quiet.  Most of the time he barely seems aware of what’s going on around him.”

Morningstar has a notion to cast _greater restoration_ on Porridge, but not if it’s already been tried.  To find out, the Company stops first at the small shrine of Hol the Harvest God, where the local priestess Prinn tends to the sick and hurt.  They find her in a small chamber warmed by a fire, brewing a pot of sleeping draught for an ill patient.   She looks like she’s in her mid thirties, but of course in Het Branoi there’s no way to be sure of a person’s age.   There is an air of matronly competence around her.

Prinn leaves her patient in the care of a young acolyte and motions for the Company to join her in her office. 

“We were talking about Porridge,” explains Morningstar, “and wondering what’s been done for him already.  We’ve heard that someone has tried the prayer of _heal_ on him.  Has anyone, to your knowledge, taken the step of a _greater restoration_?”

“Heavens no!” exclaims Prinn.  “Few people who have come through Bakersfield have had that kind of power, and none have felt that Porridge was worth the... personal cost.”

“How long was Porridge on the other side of that door?” asks Dranko.

“Only a second or two, I think,” says Prinn.  “But no one knows for sure.  We’ve gleaned that from Porridge’s mutterings in the years since.  Such a tragic thing.”

“More bad decisions are made when drunk,” says Ernie.

Prinn nods in agreement.  “They had no ropes, even.  Not that that would have helped.  Young Sturt stands watch over the Black Door now, to stop other people from becoming drunk and doing the same.”  

“But you do let sober people through,” says Dranko.  “Tell us about the remains.” 

Prinn looks distinctly uncomfortable at this question.  She licks her lips, and decides there’s no way to be delicate about it.

“Usually it looks as though – and I’m sorry if this is upsetting – usually it’s just torsos.  The limbs and heads are pulled or twisted off.  Not sliced like with a weapon.   Now, usually nothing comes back, but when something does, it’s... torsos.

“There is a stand of trees about a hundred feet from the Black Door,” she continues.  “Many people have tried tying ropes to them, especially after one person, holding a rope for another, was yanked through as well.   It never amounts to anything.   We’ve left the bloody ropes hanging from the trees there, as a warning.”

“Anyone ever tried to go through invisible?” presses Dranko.  

“Folks have tried all sorts of things,” answers Prinn.  “About ten years ago, a large party of adventuring types decided they would all go in together.  They cast many spells on themselves, made many preparations.  They talked a lot about ‘buffing,’ which I guess means something to you heroic types.  Some were invisible.  Some had other wards and protections and such.   They went in, certain and brave, despite the warnings of Peralta.  I think one of them who had a collection of gems thought she was the one foretold.  None of them ever came back.”

“Never?” says Dranko, musing.  “You know what that means?  All of their stuff is waiting on the other side!”

“Yes, I suppose so,” says Prinn, frowning.  “But you should mourn for the deceased, and not talk about looting them.  Dozens of people have gone in over the last twenty years, despite Peralta’s warnings.   We expect that all of them are dead, may Hol grant them peace.”

“Joke,” mutters Dranko.

“What about Porridge?” asks Kibi.  “What did he see?”

“It’s hard to get him to talk about it... or about anything at all.  Whatever he saw, it ruined his mind.   I’ve talked to him on many occasions, trying to ease his discomfort and distress.   He talked about a curtain.  He talked of thick ropes...  and that he didn’t see, or hear anything at all.  It was completely black.”

One Certain Step feels his throat go dry.

_go with them to your certain doom
and be the one in the lightless room...

... light must rive the last of five 
but don't expect to come back alive_

Dranko comes to the same conclusion, and puts a comforting hand on Step’s shoulder.  

“Have you tried speaking with any of the dead who have come back?” asks Morningstar.

“No.  And I’m not going to, and neither are you,” says Prinn firmly.  “Hol doesn’t hold with necromancy, and neither do I.   I’ve buried the remains, and I will ask you _not_ to dig them up.”

Dranko looks offended.  “What kind of cleric do you take me for?”

“I didn’t take you for a cleric, sir,” says Prinn.  “My apologies.  It was the joke you made about looting the dead that threw me off.”

Dranko glowers.  “I have no interest in looting the dead, but I do want to eliminate whatever’s _making_ them dead.”

“I appreciate that,” says Prinn.  “Do you think you’re the ones from the prophecy?”

“Lord knows we have as good a chance as anyone else,” says Dranko.

“You’ll need a _better_ chance than anyone else,” points out Prinn.

“Well, thank you for your help,” says Morningstar.  “We’re going to talk to Porridge.”

“Please don’t stress him unduly.  He’s in a delicate state.”


* *


A light snow falls on the packed dirt streets of Bakersfield.   The Company stands shivering outside a small dark house as the white sun sets.  Dranko knocks on the door, but no one answers.

After two more knocks Dranko simply opens the door and peeks inside.  A trace of dusk’s light spills inside, revealing a single plain room with sparse furniture.  There is a musty smell.   Dranko’s darkvision spots right away that a man is inside, sprawling out of a small chair on the far side of the only ground floor room.  

“Knock knock!” says Dranko cheerfully.

The man tilts his head slightly, but though his gaze seems to fall across the crowd on his threshold, he shows no sign of interest.

“Mr. Porridge?” says Kibi.  “Would you mind if we came in and visited with you for a while?”

Enough time passes for the Company to start wondering if he’s unconscious, or asleep with his eyes open, when he stirs and answers in a small slurred voice, “Come in.  Please.”

Slowly so as not to alarm him, the Company files into Porridge’s house.  Ernie reaches him first.

“Are you hungry?” he asks the man.

“Hungry?” he repeats softly.  “Hungry?  Hungry?  What?  What... what...”

“I’d like to try to help you,” says Morningstar, kneeling beside his chair.

“Uh huh,” says Porridge, though this utterance doesn’t sound like an assent.

“Would that be okay?” asks Morningstar.

Pause.

“I dunno,” says Porridge at last, but he nods as he speaks, which is enough for Morningstar.

For someone in his mental state, Porridge is not physically decrepit.   There are signs of meals eaten, and he himself has clearly been bathed on a regular basis.   His hair has been recently cut, and he is clean shaven.  Terrence, they suppose, has been tending to his needs.  While Morningstar begins preparing to cast the spell of _greater restoration_ Ernie tries to make small talk, but Porridge is mostly unresponsive.   A few times he whispers answers to simple questions, or jerkily takes sips of water from a wooden cup that someone had set beside his chair.   The only thing that seems to catch his interest is Aravis’s unusual face.

“Funny eyes,” he says, staring.  “Funny eyes.”  His breathing starts to quicken.  Aravis stands without speaking and leaves the room, respecting Prinn’s request not to agitate him.  Porridge stares after him.

“Prinn thought maybe we could help you,” says Morningstar, distracting him.

“I dunno, I dunno,” Porridge whispers.

“I don’t know either, but I’d like to try,” says Morningstar gently.

“I feel fine,” says Porridge weakly.  “I feel fine.”  He turns to the empty space where Aravis had been standing.  “Go away please.”

Morningstar casts her spell.  When she finishes there is a surge of energy from healer to patient, and a swift chill runs through Morningstar’s bones. 

Porridge’s eyes pop open, suffused with a heretofore absent clarity.   Calmly he observes the assembled company,  and his gaze lingers notably on their weapons.  He addresses Morningstar, whose hand is still on his forehead.

“Who are you?” he asks calmly.  Morningstar removes her hand, her breath coming in gasps from the effort of the spell.

“My name is Morningstar,” she answers.

“May I ask what you... what all of you... are doing in my house?”

“You’ve been ill for a very long time,” says Morningstar.  

“Have I?  Would you... would you mind if I asked you to leave?  I don’t remember asking eight armed strangers into my home.”

“What’s the last thing you _do_ remember?” asks Dranko.

“I remember...”  he trails off, his expression puzzled.

“You were drunk,” prompts Dranko helpfully.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Do you remember being drunk?”

“I remember waking up,” says Porridge, dredging up memories.  “I remember going down to the Warthog.  I was with Tom and Crows.  We were having a good time, but I don’t recall the particulars.  I’ll have to ask them.”

Dranko opens his mouth to speak, but in the back of his mind he hears Ernie’s reprimanding voice.  _Dranko, how about next time you let me comfort the grieving?_

“You were talking about going through the Black Door,” says Morningstar.

“Yes.  We were,” says Porridge.  “We must have decided against it, fortunately,” 

“Er...” says Dranko.  

“Are you telling me I went through the Black Door?”  Porridge sounds incredulous.  

“Yep,” says Dranko, looking for a bright side to share.  “You’re the only person who’s gone through the black door and lived.”

“Well, me and Tom and Crows,” says Porridge.

“You’re the only person who’s gone through the black door and lived,” repeats Dranko.   “I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t funny,” says Porridge.  “Who are you people?  Didn’t I ask you to leave?”

“Prinn can explain,” says Ernie.  

“I should hope so,” says Porridge, and Ernie dashes out the door to fetch her.   While they wait for him to return, Dranko asks, “Do you remember how long your hair was when you went through?”

“Yes, of course, it was...”  He reaches up to feel his head.  “Huh.  That’s weird.  I... I don’t know what to say about that.”

“You went through the Black Door, and whatever you saw there broke your mind,” says Dranko.

“No, I didn’t,” insists Porridge.  “I think I’d remember something like that.  And you still haven’t answered the question of why you’re in my house.”

“To cure you,” says Morningstar. 

“I’m not ill.”

“Not anymore,” says Kibi.

“We could leave our weapons outside if that would make you feel better,” says Grey Wolf.

“Could you?  Yes, it would.  Thank you.”

While they are disarming themselves, Ernie comes back with Prinn, breathless from running.  She goes inside while the Company waits without.  Ten minutes pass, before they hear a terrible sobbing.  A few minutes after that Prinn comes back out.

“He’s going to need a little while.  Can you come back in the morning?”


* *


Dranko takes a deep breath.

“Step?”

“Yes?”

“Can I work out a trade with you?  No matter how I say  this, it’s going to sound ghoulish, so I’m just going to ask.   You know your immovable rod?”

Step nods.  It’s part of the paladin’s equipment, but to Dranko’s ongoing frustration Step has never explored its tactical possibilities.

“When was the last time you used it?” asks Dranko.

“It’s been a long time,” Step concedes.

“What do you want for it?”

The rest of the Company does in fact agree that this is a ghoulish request, but that’s Dranko for you.  One Certain Step looks at Dranko and laughs.  

“Dranko, it seems that soon I am going to die.   I will _give_ you the rod, and if I survive we can work out a trade.  We’ve known each other a long time.  If and when I pass away, you are all welcome to my belongings, to divide amongst yourselves as you all see fit.”

Dranko has the good grace to look ashamed.  “Let me just say that on a daily basis, you’re an inspiration to all of us.  My life’s been better because of you.”  

“The future is written in water,” says Kibi suddenly.  “The Eyes said that... well, the one of them that was right.”

“That is true,” says Step.  “But still, the prophecy said I should not expect to come back alive, and I do not.”

“Grey Wolf expected to die too, and he’s still alive,” points out Ernie.

“And that fact does give me hope,” says Step, smiling.

“That’s only because we were too incompetent to betray him properly,” laughs Dranko.

“I have a ... feeling...” says Step, growing solemn again.  “A feeling that I will go through the Black Door, and I will not survive.   But thanks to all of you, I will be better off by far than the last time.  And if my understanding is correct, you’d all better hope I’m right.”


* *


They spend the night enjoying the hospitality of the Wily Warthog.  Flicker spends most of the evening in a funk, looking often at Yoba but keeping his distance.  When Ernie gets up to use the privy, Dranko sits down in his place.

“So, what do you think of him?” he asks.

“Ernest seems an honest fellow,” says Yoba, looking hard at Dranko and wondering what other questions might be coming.  “I think he’d have trouble concealing things about himself even if he tried.”

“True,” Dranko agrees.  “You know, I don’t know that he’s ever had a girlfriend before.”

“So he’s not married,” says Yoba, and she can’t help but smile.

“He’s been waiting for the right girl,” says Dranko.  “It’s hard for him to find someone who’ll understand the kind of life he leads, and appreciates him for who he is.”

Yoba starts to blush again, and when Ernie comes back to the table Dranko excuses himself.  Ernie looks after Dranko worriedly, but Yoba gives an assuring smile.  It’s then that Ernie notices Flicker, sitting gloomily on the stairs with his legs hanging through the banister, a mug of ale in his hand.  

“I worry about Flicker sometimes,” says Ernie.  “I don’t think he’s found Yondalla.   Brandobaras,  more like it.”

“I don’t think anything’s wrong with that,” says Yoba.  “Is he a good person?”

“Yes,” says Ernie quickly.  “But he... needs guidance.”

“I’m sure he’s getting it,” says Yoba.  “He has you!  And... and he seems like a nice fellow.”

That prompts Ernie to tell Yoba the story about Flicker’s unexpected game of Farangi back in Djaw, and Yoba once again listens eagerly to Ernie’s tales.   Hours later they are still at the table, yawning but reluctant to part.  They walk together up the stairs, though once at the top their rooms are in opposite directions down the hall.  

“Good night,” says Ernie, a bit awkwardly.  “I hope to see you in the morning.”

They turn and walk away, but both of them turn around before going into their own rooms.  She smiles once more at him, before opening her door and stepping out of sight.


* *


Prinn approaches Morningstar over breakfast.

“I just came from bringing Porridge his morning meal,” she says.  “He said he wants to talk to you.”

“How’s he doing?” Morningstar asks. 

“Better.  He still doesn’t remember what happened to him, but he knows now what he did, and what the consequences were.  I explained everything to him, as gently as I could.  He said he wanted to talk to the person who healed him.”

Morningstar nods.

A tall, portly man in dark blue clothing stands up from his own table and saunters over to where the Company sits.  It’s Ox, whom they briefly encountered the previous night.   He pulls up a chair.

“So, what do you think of the place?” he says in a deep, stentorian voice.   Dranko’s attention is drawn to the cheap-looking longsword strapped to his side.

“Any good with that thing?” he asks.

Ox shrugs.

“Maybe we can duel later,” Dranko suggests.

“Ah, you’d be too much for me, I’m sure,” says Ox.  “And I don’t like fighting.”

“So why you carry that thing around?” asks Dranko, pointing at the sword.

“Makes people think twice,” says Ox.

“What is it you _like_ doing?  You a spellcaster?”  

Ox nods and smiles, as if to say ‘you got me.’

“We’ve got three of your kind in our group,” says Dranko.  “One who does it with his eyes, one who does it with his sword, and one who does it with his rocks.”

Aravis sighs.

“I just dabble,” says Ox.

“What’s the most powerful spell you can cast?” presses Dranko.

“Not even worth talking about,” says Ox.

Somehow Ox manages to deflect several more of Dranko’s attempts to pin down the extent of his spellcasting prowess.   “It makes me happy to have people wonder,” says Ox finally.  “Makes people less likely to try something.”

Dranko gives up.

“Are you going to wait around for Peralta’s saviors to show up?” asks Ox.

“Yup,” answers Dranko.  “You?”

“Of course!” says Ox, grinning.  “That’s why I’m still here.”

“You gonna help him then?” asks Dranko. 

“Absolutely.   With what little means I have.  And it beats the alternative, right?”

“You _could_ spend time trying to pick up chicks with your super magic powers,” says Dranko.

“Actually, I’m hoping to be reunited with my _wife_ as soon as possible,” says Ox with a smile.

Ernie and Yoba have been making googly eyes at one another all through breakfast.  Ernie suddenly pipes up.  “Say, anyone want to go for a walk?  I’ve never seen a six-legged cow before.  I want to take a look!”

“I’ll show them to you if you’d like,” says Yoba.  “Come on, I’ll show you.”  Without waiting for anyone else to show interest, she takes his hand and leads him out of the inn.  The others just watch, amused.

“This is so sad,” says Morningstar.  “When we get out of here, Yoba will have to back to being the Commander of the Southern Border, and Ernie will stay with us.”

“Maybe not,” says Dranko.  “Maybe he’ll fall in love, and leave us to go with her.”

“My folks always told me, it’s better to have loved and lost that to never have loved at all,” says Aravis, though the others suspect he’s not speaking from actual experience.  

“That’s a load of crap!” says Flicker bitterly, but no one pays him much mind.

“Can you _plane shift_ from our world to her world?” asks Dranko, turning to Aravis.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Then she can come join us, and eventually you can send her home, and Ernie can go with her if he wants,” says Dranko.

“Then we’ll lose Ernie!” Aravis protests.

“It’s better to have loved and lost....” says Dranko, leering.

“Isn’t this premature?” says Kibi.  “He only met her yesterday.  Sheesh.”


* *


Only Morningstar goes into Porridge’s house.   Dranko eavesdrops from outside, just in case.

“Ah, Morningstar!” says Porridge, seeing her standing in the doorway.  “Come in!  Are you hungry?  Thirsty?  Sit down, be comfortable!”

Morningstar sees that the furniture has been rearranged and the table set.  

“I wanted to thank you,” says Porridge, once Morningstar has been seated.  “I know all about what happened.  And I’ll deal with it.   We got drunk and stupid, and did something... well, stupid, and my friends paid for it.  I don’t know why I didn’t.  But, here I am.  And I’m in my right mind again, which I understand I wasn’t.  So thank you.”

Morningstar gives an acknowledging nod, then licks her lips.

“Porridge, I have a question for you, one that I want you to think about.  There may be a way that your memories could be helpful to separating the Slices and returning people to their own worlds.”

“You think so?” asks Porridge, his eyes wide.

“I think it’s very important for us to know what’s on the other side of the Black Door.”

Porridge shakes his head.  “I don’t remember.  If I could, I’d tell you.”

“I know,” says Morningstar.  “But I have a spell that could _cause_ you to remember.”

Porridge is silent for almost a minute before answering.

“Prinn tells me that whatever was in there is probably what caused me to go mad,” he says softly.

“Yes,” says Morningstar.  

“Do you think I might go mad again if I remember?  I want to help end the Slices, but...”

“If you go mad again, I can fix you, just like I did before,” says Morningstar.  

“Prinn said that you had to make a severe personal sacrifice to help me.  Would you do that again?”

“I... yes.  We believe this is _very_ important.”

“Well... okay then,” says Porridge.  

“I want you take some time to think about it,” says Morningstar.  “It’s a serious thing, what I’m proposing.”

“You say it’ll help fix the Slices?”

“It might.”

“You should just do it then.”  Porridge sits up straighter in his chair.  “Cause if I think about it too much, I might chicken out.  But if I could help fix things... that would be pretty neat, huh?”

Morningstar smiles at him.  “Let me get a couple of my friends, so they can keep an eye on us while I cast the spell.”  


* *

Ernie is sitting on a beautiful snow-speckled hilltop, looking out upon a field of docile six-legged cows, listening to the sound of the wind, and trying very, very hard not to focus too hard on the fact that he and Yoba are holding hands.   The two had talked for a while, but now are simply to content to enjoy the presence of the other, on this lovely winter morning.   It’s just a perfect...

“Powerful cleric needed!  Half-orcs don’t qualify!”  Dranko’s voice intrudes on his reverie. 

Ernie lets go of Yoba’s hand like it had caught on fire, and leaps to his feet.

“What about Morningstar?” he asks.

“You’re her spotter,” says Dranko.

“Ah.”

Ernie invites Yoba to come with him and she happily agrees.  


* *


Morningstar knows that it is possible for the caster of a _memory read_ to suffer if the memory in question is sufficiently horrible.  But she was weathered the memory of a man thrown alive into a massive furnace, and trusts in Ell that she will endure this one as well.  Ernie brews up a potion that fills the room with a pleasant scent, and arranges some cushions and bedding to make sure both Morningstar and Porridge are comfortable.

“We’re going to live about five minutes of your memory,” explains Morningstar.  “Then we’ll come back here, and see how you feel.”

“I trust you,” says Porridge.  “Prinn said a lot of pretty powerful healers tried to fix me up over the years, and none of the succeeded.  I have faith in you.”

Morningstar takes a deep breath and casts her spell.

She’s drunk.  

It’s always a strange sensation, being two people at once.  She is Morningstar, and she is Porridge, and she is staggering out of the Wily Warthog into a cool autumn evening.  On one side of her is a short and rotund fellow, and on the other is a tall gangly red-headed youth.   It’s hard for her to concentrate on the details of the memory, because she’s rip-roaring plastered.  The three of them stumble down the main road of Bakersfield.  The red-head – Tom – is carrying a torch, and it’s only by the grace of Hol that he’s not setting his hair on fire.  They are laughing and joking and from their banter it’s clear that they have recently all convinced one another to see what’s on the other side of Mystic Peralta’s “Door of Certain Dooooooooom.”

Ahead of them they see it, an opaque black rectangle against the almost-pitch-black horizon.   It’s dead dark, ten feet wide and eight feet tall.  Tom holds the torch inches from the Black Door.

“You sure ‘bout this?” he asks.

“Hop in, hop out,” Porridge says.  “Whassever in there, wont’ have time to know we’re there.  Jus’ like any other doorway.  Hop in, hop out.  Coupla seconds inside, come out again.  Don’ worry.   Ferny, he dinnit cmout again ‘cause he stayed in too long.  In, out.  In, out.”

“I don’t know if we should be doing this,” says Crows.  “Thisss really... I dunno.”

“Come on,” urges Morningstar.  “Go in, come out.  In, out.  In, out.  No one knows we’re coming.  We’ll be famous.  Famous!”

“All right,” says Crows.  “Famousest of the whole town then.”

They look at the Black Door in the light of Tom’s torch.  There’s no reflection, no sparkling, just a matte black painting hanging in the air..

“When I say tree, we all runnan  jump,” says Morningstar.  “Remember, right in, right out.  One!  Two...”

“No no no no no!” says Crows.  “Wait, wait!  We could get killed doing this.”

“No, it’ll be fiiiiinne,” says Tom, emboldened by Morningstar’s confidence.  “Everyone elswennin, thinking they would look around, essplore.  We’re just jumpin in, jumpin out, like Porridge says.”

“Here we go,” says Porridge.  One!  Two!  Three!”

Morningstar sees the other two jumping in, one on either side of him.  She experiences the memory of being pulled through a Way, so familiar to her, so unexpected to Porridge.

She arrives...somewhere.  She feels like he’s standing on something solid, but far away, as if she’s on a stone floor in huge padded shoes.    It is more than just pitch dark.  There’s no light, no sound, no sensory input of any kind.  It is utterly not what she expected.  

Some number of seconds have passed, maybe one or two, maybe more, and there’s great confusion in her memory.  “Right!” she thinks in a panic.  “Jump back out!”

Morningstar feels like a curtain of ropes is in the way, and that she’s pushing her way through it, even though the feeling of them is dulled to almost nothing.  And as she does so, she gets a feeling, or the memory of a feeling, of a presence.   Something unspeakably horrible is there in the darkness with her, and Morningstar’s body shudders with the remembrance of it.  It’s incomprehensible, and she _knows_ that it will devour her, and she’ll never understand why.  She panics.  She _thinks_ she has turned around and is pushing toward where the Door must be, but there’s no way to tell if she’s even facing the right way.   Her last memory will be one of hideous oblivion...

She pushes through the ropes, and once more there is the sucking void of the space between Ways, and then he is stumbling out onto the hard ground, sobbing and retching and clutching the earth like it’s his own mother come to embrace him.  


...to be continued...


----------



## carpedavid

Excellent, as always, Sagiro.

I think I found a minor typo, though:



> “Then she can come join us, and eventually you can send her home, and Ernie can go with her if he wants,” says *Ernie*.


----------



## Enkhidu

I think I just figured out what beyond the black door. Eww!


----------



## Sagiro

carpedavid said:
			
		

> Excellent, as always, Sagiro.
> 
> I think I found a minor typo, though:



Thanks, and fixed.    Given that I was literally falling asleep as I posted last night, I'll be amazed if that's the only typo.

And Enkhidu, you can always post your guess with spoiler masking.  The story hour is well behind the actual game, so you can't ruin anything for the players.  And anyway, you'll be finding out soon enough.   

-Sagiro


----------



## Enkhidu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> And Enkhidu, you can always post your guess with spoiler masking.  The story hour is well behind the actual game, so you can't ruin anything for the players.  And anyway, you'll be finding out soon enough.



Too true!

So here's the guess:
[sblock]I've been thinking for some time that the Cleaners were going to play a central role in the endgame of this whole thing, and now I'm convinced. In fact, I think that the Cleaners are really just the Cleaner (singular), and its what lies beyond the black door. 

It was the torsos (with limbs ripped, not chewed) that was the final piece. Well, that and the fact that I kept adding "squamous" to the list of adjectives in Porridge's blocked memory and it didn't seem out of place.[/sblock]


----------



## Len

Yoba's a pit fiend, right?


----------



## coyote6

Enkhidu, that's what I was thinking, too.


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Len said:
			
		

> Yoba's a pit fiend, right?




Gotta be a succubus

of couse after they find out she is a succubus and attack her, they discover that she really is a Paladin of Yondalla (wheels within wheels).


----------



## Fajitas

MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> of couse after they find out she is a succubus and attack her, they discover that she really is a Paladin of Yondalla (wheels within wheels).



Perhaps she's a succubus of Yondalla...


----------



## Everett

MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> Gotta be a succubus
> 
> of couse after they find out she is a succubus and attack her, they discover that she really is a Paladin of Yondalla (wheels within wheels).





What makes any of you think that she's anything evil at all?  She doesn't display any of the characteristics that villains in this Story Hour typically have... there's never been a villain who went disguised as a good guy for THAT LONG and THEN was unmasked as whatever, no!  "Hi, Ernie's mom" - "no, I'm actually the assassin king" - that's it!


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Everett said:
			
		

> What makes any of you think that she's anything evil at all?  She doesn't display any of the characteristics that villains in this Story Hour typically have... there's never been a villain who went disguised as a good guy for THAT LONG and THEN was unmasked as whatever, no!  "Hi, Ernie's mom" - "no, I'm actually the assassin king" - that's it!




However there is a tradition that allies are nasty to players, but villians are "polite"


----------



## Everett

MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> However there is a tradition that allies are nasty to players, but villians are "polite"




...and she doesn't follow it.

Sagiro's villians are polite in the way that a man's polite to an enemy he respects.  Now ask yourself: Is that Yoba's behavior?  No, of course it isn't.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 248*_
*The Final Step*

Morningstar is snapped back to her body, and finds that she is shivering.   Porridge is curled into a little ball; Ernie has thrown a blanket around him.

“Are you... are you all right?” Morningstar asks, trembling.

“No,” whispers Porridge.  He follows this answer with some small whimpering noises, as he rocks back and forth.  

“You’re safe,” says Ernie.  “Nothing can harm you here.”

Porridge is obviously traumatized, but does slowly recover over the course of the next few minutes.  Morningstar spends that time describing what she saw to the others, and no one enjoys hearing it. 

“I’m guessing that’s all being done by the other Eye,” says Dranko.

“Or something that’s _between_ the Way and the Eye, like a defense mechanism,” says Aravis.  “I suspect that’s why Peralta’s prophecy refers to the Eyes we have now.  Only they will be able to navigate through the darkness.”

“Or Step will help us with that,” says Kibi, looking uncomfortably at the paladin.  Step merely nods.

Dranko prepares two _remove fear_ spells and casts them on Porridge and Morningstar.  It helps.  

“See that?” says Dranko, addressing no one in particular.  “I _am_ a cleric.  How about that.”

“I think you should get some rest,” says Morningstar to Porridge.  “Do you want someone to stay with you?”

“Could you send for Prinn?” whispers Porridge.  “She takes good care of me.”

Morningstar nods.  “Thank you,” she says.  “That was very brave.”


* *


Outside Porridge’s house, a dour-looking elf in brown and green clothes stands in the street.  Snow is gathering in her long brown hair, which she ignores.  The Company had seen her briefly in the Warthog the night before, but she hadn’t stayed long or talked to anyone.  They recall that her name is Spindra.

“I understand you are trying to heal that man,” she says, frowning.

“We just did,” says Dranko.  “Does that bother you?”

“He was suffering his deserved punishment,” says Spindra.  “You should not have interfered.”

Yoba sighs, like she’s heard this before.

“What are you babbling about?” asks Dranko.

“Don’t you understand where you are?” asks Spindra, raising her voice.  “We’re being punished.  All of us.”

“Noooooo,” says Morningstar. “We’re pretty sure this is an experiment being run by a bunch of evil fanatics.”

“What are we being punished for?” asks Dranko

“That’s my personal business, as your sins are yours.  But we’re all sinners, or we wouldn’t be here.” 

There’s general disagreement among the assembled Company.

“What makes you think we’re all being punished?” asks Dranko.

“We’re trapped in a strange prison,” says Spindra, gesturing to the sky.  “Removed from our homes and families, and doomed to be here for eternity, or else to die in any of various horrible ways.” 

“Think for a minute,” says Dranko.  “When you’re in your home, and there’s a fly bumping into a window, is the fly being punished, or did it just happen to fly in through the door, and hasn’t found its way out yet?”

Spindra thinks only for a second before answering simply:  “I find your analogy uncompelling.”

“And yet, it’s accurate,” says Dranko.  “We’re the flies.”

“Have you seen what happens to the flies against the window?” asks Spindra.  “They’re dead on the sill.  You should hope that’s all that happens to you.”

And with that, she turns and walks away.

“I don’t understand that attitude,” says Ernie with a sigh. 

“No one knows how long she’s been in the Slices,” says Yoba.  “She won’t tell anyone.  But she’s absolutely convinced this is hell.  It’s very sad.  I’ve tried to talk some sense into her, to make her see that there was hope, and good works to be done regardless, but it was pointless.”


* *


The Company spends the next few weeks training in Bakersfield.   It doesn’t take Kibi long to find the local brewer and offer his services, though Dranko discovers that the town currently doesn’t have a tanner or leatherworker, and ends up assuming that mantle.  Spells are researched, skills are honed, and many of the locals are sounded out for combat worthiness.

One afternoon the Company wakes to the sound of battle out in the street, but it’s just Jack (whose nickname has turned out to be “Cashbox Jack”) sparring with a short human woman.  They’re both pretty good, but Jack is clearly more skilled, about as good as Snokas and Step.   When they finish, Dranko approaches them.

“Hey Jack, want to see a trick?”

“Sure.”

Dranko loosens his whip and lashes at Jack, coiling the weapon around his leg.  Before Jack can recover Dranko yanks hard and sends his target tumbling to the ground.  He follows up with a nearly-instant attempt to divest Jack of his rapier, but somehow Jack uncurls the whip from his weapon and manages to hold on.  

“Neat trick,” says Jack, springing lithely to his feet.  

“Actually I was pretty sure I’d be able to disarm you, too,” says Dranko, impressed.  “You’re pretty good.”

“And you’re pretty fast,” says Jack.  “Looking at you, I’ll bet you can dodge pretty much anything.”

Dranko puffs up a bit at the praise, then deflates again when he hears Morningstar speak in his ear.

“Dranko, now I’m going to show _you_ a trick.  You’ll want to try dodging this.”

“What am I dodging?” he asks, worriedly.  He’s thinking about _ironstorms_ and _chain lightning_, and the memories are not pleasant.

Morningstar says nothing, but takes Dranko’s hand and leads him to an empty side street.  Jack and some of the rest of the Company follow, curious.

“What am I dodging?” asks Dranko again, with panic creeping into his voice.  

Morningstar smiles grimly.   “Stand there,” she says, leaving Dranko in the middle of the street.  “The rest of you... I’d back up.”

She starts to cast.

“What are you casting?” says Dranko in alarm, though now he’s tensed to dodge whatever it is.  “What am I...?”

WHOOOOOOMPH!

Morningstar casts _firestorm_, filling much of the street with cold black flames.  She leaves gaps for the bystanders, but Dranko is right in the middle of the conflagration.  With reflexes honed by dozens of similar moments, he flips, leaps, bends, and somehow finds the gaps in the spell’s energy.  When the flames recede, Dranko is miraculously unharmed.

Dranko stares at Morningstar, eyes wide, heart pounding.

“That’s a crappy wedding gift!” he cries.

“Are you going to be where that spell is, when I use it in combat?” asks Morningstar.

“No!” exclaims Dranko.  

Yoba blinks.  “Wow,” she says.  “That was... that was an amazing illusion.”

“That was no illusion,” says Morningstar, still watching Dranko.

“You actually cast a _firestorm_ on your fiancée?” asks Jack, incredulous.

“I was making a point,” says Morningstar.  “You see, we’ll be in combat, and Dranko will have a choice of leaping into an area where he suspects I’m going to be casting that spell.  He’ll be confident that he can get out of the way.  I wanted to show him exactly what he’d be dealing with.   The direct lessons are the only ones that work.”

Jack goggles.  “You cast a _firestorm_ on your fiancée _for practice?_  That’s the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen in my life!  You’ve got yourself a fine woman there, Dranko.  Don’t ever let her go.”

Dranko just puts his head in his hands and tries not to cry.   At dinner that night, there’s a rumor going around that Dranko and Morningstar had one _hell_ of a lover’s quarrel. 


* *


It’s not long after healing Porridge that the Company realizes their lives will be easier with Translator Discs of their own.  The source of them is a crafty gnome named Crieger, who rents a room at the Warthog but mostly stays to himself.   At a corner table, Crieger spends a few minutes examining some Charagan coins, before offering to sell nine of the discs to the Company for 20 gold pieces each. 

“So,” says the gnome.  “Nine translators.  That’s 180 gold.” 

“Well, it would normally be 180, but you’re going to give us a discount,” says Dranko with a disarming smile.

“Oh, I already factored in the discount,” says Crieger, smiling back at him.  “For people who look like you, I usually charge thirty.  I mean, look at you.  You guys are festooned with magic items!  Don’t tell me you can’t afford it.”

“I don’t have any magic on me at all,” lies Dranko.  “Can you _detect magic?_”  He asks this with the confidence of a practiced charlatan who’s also wearing a ring that prevents _detect magic_ from working on his person and possessions.

“Maybe I can, maybe I can’t,” says Crieger.

“Then check me,” says Dranko smugly.

“Oh, come on,” says Crieger, waving.  “Half the stuff on you is masterwork.  You think I don’t know?  And what about your friends?”  He points at Aravis.   “Heck, look, his whole _head’s_ a magic item!”

“That would make one think we’re relatively powerful,” says Dranko, switching tactics.  “And it would make one think that you, being a gnome with a lot of sense, would want to be friends with people like us.”

“Eh,” says Crieger.  He takes a drink of ale.  “Yes and no.  You’ll all be off soon, and I’ll probably never see you again.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” says Aravis.

Crieger gives Aravis a hard look.  “Are you threatening me, star-field?”

“No,” says Aravis, holding up his hands.  “I just wouldn’t count on never seeing us again.  We turn up in strange places.”

“That could be,” concedes Crieger.  Then, to Dranko: “Hey, this is a bargain.  You heard of the spell _tongues_?  You know how much a magic item would cost that gives you _tongues_ full time?”

“Nope.”

“A whole more than twenty of your gold pieces!” says Crieger.  “Probably hundreds or thousands!”

“Than why are you charging only twenty?” asks Dranko.

“‘Cause I’m a nice guy,” says Crieger.  “You seem like nice people.”  In a low whisper he adds, “Maybe I want to be friends with people like you.”

“Tell you what,” says Dranko.  “I’ll give you a flat hundred, right now.”   He plunks down the coins in a sack, right on the table.  

Crieger looks at the bag, then at Dranko.  “Er, ok,” he says.  “That’ll get you five translator discs.”  

“Nope,” says Dranko.  “That’s my offer for all nine.  Take it or leave it.”

“That’ll be ‘leave it’, then,” says Crieger.  “There’ll be other people along who’ll pay my price.  I don’t have an infinite supply of these things, so it’s no skin off my nose if I have to wait.” 

As the gnome rises to leave, Dranko asks, “Where’d you steal ‘em from, anyway?”

Crieger stops and considers for a few seconds before answering.  “Duergar.”

“They gonna come lookin’ for em?” asks Dranko.

“Nah,” says Crieger.

“You steal ‘em yourself?”

“Yep.”

“Wanna tell me the story?”

“Nope.”

“Well, if you stole ‘em yourself, I guess you deserve the twenty gold per,” says Dranko.  “You have yourself a deal.”

Crieger smiles and sits back down, as Dranko starts to pull out more stacks of gold.  Then he hands over the money in such a confusing manner, ‘helpfully’ counting and restacking coins, that he manages to short Crieger by twenty gold after all.  He pulls this bit of sleight-of-hand trickery with such skill that the gnome doesn’t even notice.

“Good doing business with you,” says Dranko, as Crieger hands over nine metal discs.   All seems well, but that evening during dinner Crieger comes downstairs and walks directly to Dranko’s table.

“Excuse me,” he says politely.  “I’m afraid that in our earlier transaction, you were twenty gold short.”

“Couldn’t have,” says Dranko.  “You counted it.”

“I counted again once I got to my room,” says Crieger.  “I’m sure you were twenty gold short.”

“I wasn’t,” insists Dranko.  “You counted the money, I saw you.  Could you have dropped it someplace?”

“I don’t think so,” says Crieger.  "I would have heard the clinks.  You don’t just drop money and not notice.  I assure you, every gold piece you gave me went into this bag.   And it all came out of the bag onto my desk, where I counted it three times to be sure.”

“But I have the signed receipt right here!” says Dranko. 

Crieger sighs.  He’s played this game before.  “You know,” he says evenly.  “I’d hate to see you get a reputation around here.  That would be a terrible thing.  No one wants to be known as a thief and cheapskate.”

Dranko stonewalls, but is foiled when Kibi hands over the remaining gold pieces.

“Hey, thanks,” says Crieger.  “At least _one_ of you has integrity.  Thanks a lot.”

The gnome departs quickly and heads toward the stairs.

Dranko turns on Kibi, angry.  “You just gave up 20 gold we didn’t have to.”

“He’s right, though,” says Kibi.  “We don’t want a reputation for stinginess or cheating, if we’re going to be convincing people to fight with us on the other side of the Black Door.”

Dranko glowers, but then shouts to Crieger, “Hey!  You dropped your purse!”

He holds up Crieger’s money pouch, which he had deftly picked before the gnome left the table.

Crieger comes back scowling.  He grabs the pouch out of Dranko’s hands and reties it to his belt.  “I’m going to count that, you know,” he says crossly.

“Of course,” smiles Dranko.  Crieger turns to leave, and has only taken two steps before he hears Dranko calling, “Hey Crieger, you really should be more careful.  You dropped it again.”

Once again he’s holding up the pouch.

Crieger walks slowly back to Dranko, his hand out.   But instead of being angry, he looks impressed.

“You should make a living doing that,” he says.  “I’m not the easiest gnome to rob, but I would have bet you twenty gold pieces you couldn’t pick my pocket twice in a row.”

When he leaves the third time, he’s still got the pouch clutched in both hands.



* *


Two weeks before they intend to brave the Black Door, the Company starts to spread the word.  This is ostensibly to give folks time to return to their own Slices, on the assumption that if they succeed, people will find the Slices ‘reattached.’  It also will give some of the adventuring types hanging around Bakersfield the opportunity to mull things over.  

Not many people choose to leave the town.  Many are skeptical, in the absence of proof that Scree is truly the savior predicted by Mystic Peralta’s prophecy.   Some others plan to go with the Company, or at least  figure they could still be convinced.   

The Wily Warthog does lose one of its least-pleasant patrons.   A rude and demanding Tiefling named Grivian packs up the day after the Company’s announcement and departs into the Way to the slime tunnels.  Some think he could be a spy for someone (maybe even the Black Circle), but it doesn’t seem worth going after him.  

Jack corners them that evening in the Warthog.

“It’s true? You’re going in?  Do you have proof you’re the ones?  Other people thought they were the ones, and they weren’t, you know.”

“_We_ didn’t get caught in a Slice, Jack,” says Dranko.  “This collection of Slices is linked by a permanent portal to our own world.  It’s where the people who started all this are from.”

“What about all the gems?” asks Jack.  “What about Peralta’s prophecy?”

“We know we fulfill that prophecy,” says Dranko.

“I want to believe you,” says Jack, “But I’ve lived a long time being a skeptic.  Can I _see_ these gems?”

“The gems are intelligent,” explains Dranko.  “They’re incredibly powerful chaos magic, and they only choose to show themselves when they want to.”

“You mean they’re invisible?” asks Jack.

“No,” says Dranko, “But they don’t look like Peralta’s gems.  They look like diamonds.  Kibi, can Scree show him?”

Kibi frees Scree from his _familiar pocket_.

“Hey, an earth elemental!” says Jack.  “You‘ve got an earth elemental as a familiar!  That’s pretty cool! What’s his name?”

“His name is Scree,” says Kibi, pleased to find someone so polite.

“Nice to meet you, Scree,” says Jack with a bow.

“Can we keep him?” Scree asks Kibi.

Scree’s sapphire eyes are visible, along with the three diamonds.  But as Jack watches, there’s the tiniest of flare-ups.  A streak of rubies ripples through Scree’s body, followed quickly by a surge of emeralds and amethysts.  Jack jumps back, but the whole thing is over in less than three seconds.

“We have various prophecies involved in all this, including one about that Black Door,” says Kibi, but Jack needs no further convincing. 

“It beats sitting around here for the rest of my life,” he says.  “If you want me, I’ll go with you.”

“We do,” says Dranko.


* *


In the end, here’s how it shakes out:

Garg the Great, legendary orcish wizard and all-powerful savant, refuses to get involved.   He outwardly refuses to believe that the Company are the ones prophesied, and inwardly (everyone suspects) is scared out of his ever-loving orcish mind. 

An elderly half-elven bard named Mavis offers to sing inspiring songs as they leave, but doesn’t think she’d be much good in a fight.  If they come back alive, she promises to sing a ballad about their experience.

Cashbox Jack is the first to sign up.  He tries to sway others to the cause, claiming that he _saw_ the gems for himself, but it turns out he doesn’t have the most sparkling reputation in the honesty department.

The gnome Crieger is noncommittal, but no one thinks he’s the sort to risk his own neck.  

Terrence, Priest of Noofr, God of Cleanliness and Punctuality, decides not to risk it.

“I think I’ll be of more use here,” he says.

“But it’s destiny!” says Dranko.

“Well, if destiny beats you up, come back here and I’ll heal you.”

The fighter who sparred with Jack, named Gussie, waffles for days but decides not to go.   She was Sliced away along with a dozen members of her  fighters’ guild,  and all of them made their way to the strange “living plane” described by Yoba, but she was the only one deposited near Bakersfield.  She hopes still to be reunited with her fellows.

Kiro the Dwarven priest and the sorcerer Ox both choose to take the plunge.   And Yoba insists that Ernie not be allowed to face further danger without her by his side.

And then there’s Sagiro Emberleaf.  Sagiro has been silent and withdrawn throughout their stay in Bakersfield, mostly staying in his room.  But he nods when asked if he intends to come with them through the Black Door, and as it seems he can still wield his rapier with his old expertise, they don’t deny him the chance.  

That makes fourteen heroes in all, to face whatever lies beyond the dark portal:  Morningstar, Ernie, Dranko, Grey Wolf, Kibi, Aravis, One Certain Step, Snokas, Flicker, Sagiro, Yoba, Ox, Kiro and Cashbox Jack.

The night before their departure, they gather in the Wily Warthog for a final meeting.  Almost everyone in the town is packed into the place.  Dranko stands on a table and the common room goes silent.  

“Here’s the deal,” he says to the assembled throng.  “We know we’re the ones in the prophecy.  And we know at least a little about what’s on the other side of that door.”

Morningstar climbs up on the table with him, and recounts her experience from Porridge’s horrible memory.   When she’s done, the dwarf Kiro speaks up.  “I guess I’ll ask the obvious question.   We show up.  We can’t see. We can’t hear.  We can’t feel anything.  We don’t know which way we’re going.  And something in there kills people in seconds.  You, uh, see where I’m going with this, right?”

“Well, two things,” says Dranko.  “One, Morningstar here will bless us with a miracle that will protect us from the horrible crushing fear.”

“That’s a good start,” says Kiro.  “What’s the second thing?”

Dranko motions to One Certain Step.

“A long time ago,” says the paladin of Kemma, “my Goddess directed me through a holy writing that I would ‘be the one in the lightless room.’   I now understand what that means.   You see, when a paladin of my order dies, it creates light in proportion to the health of his soul, which in my case I have tried to cultivate as best I can.”  (Here he smiles at Ernie and Morningstar.)  “It is my intention to be killed, and in the aftermath there will be light for you to see.  I expect that you will make use of that light in the best possible way.”

If this plan bothers Step in even the slightest way, he betrays no sign of it.

“You’re sure this is it?” asks Kiro.  “That this here Black Door is the 'lightless room' from your own prophecy?"

Step nods.  “There are other details.  They all point to this moment.  This is my destiny.”

“You’re sure there’s not a way around this?” asks Jack.  “Prophecies are prophecies, and I’ve heard my share in my time.  Sometimes they come true, and sometimes they don’t.”

Step smiles.  “If something occurs to me before tomorrow, I’ll be sure to let you know.  But I have given this a great deal of thought, and I have a plan.   Consider this:  if we all go in at once, and you try various sources of light that don’t work, then what?  What if whatever is in there chooses to kill others of you, before killing me?”  

“We’ll play it by ear, as usual,” says Aravis.

“I was thinking that I would go in first,” says Step.

“I don’t like that plan,” says Morningstar.  

“I don’t like it either!” says Step.  “But I have to do what I feel is right.  And to do anything else would be to put all of you in danger, in the face of Kemma’s prophecy.”

“We love you, Step,” says Dranko, “and we don’t want you to die.”

“Remember Grey Wolf’s prophecy,” adds Morningstar.  

“Oh, I do,” says Step.  “But even if there’s some way to avoid it, I must go in, expecting to do this thing.”

The rest of the night is spent planning their spell complements for the morrow, and then talking about what might be waiting for them beyond the Black Door.  Maybe it’s the Rotunda, or some infernal machine of the Black Circle.  Maybe it’s the Eye of Moirel, protecting itself from all who would steal it.  Grey Wolf speculates glumly that it’s probably more Cleaners.  


* *


The next morning Morningstar treats the Gang of Fourteen to a _heroes’ feast_.   The excitement and tension is tempered by the stoic presence of One Certain Step, who looks utterly at peace.  

“I had a dream last night,” he says during the meal, and everyone quiets to listen.  “It doesn’t concern our task directly, but it makes me even more sure of my path.  I dreamt of my warhorse, Thunder, whom I have not seen in a long, long time.  She was running through the fields of heaven, under a sun that never sets, and the sight of her filled my heart with joy.”

For a long moment no one speaks.  Then Morningstar says quietly, “There’s no better way to go out, right?”

“When you get out of here,” says Step, “and you put things to right, it will truly have been worth it.”

“It’s been an honor,” says Morningstar, and there are tears in her eyes.

Step stands and bows to her.  “The honor has been mine.”

“We’ll never forget what you’re doing for us,” says Kibi in a small voice.

Ernie simply gives the paladin a hug.

When the meal is finished, a throng of people accompanies the heroes to the Black Door.  Not everyone in town is convinced that the Prophecy is about to fulfilled; they’ve witnessed this kind of scene before.  And the ropes and graves still serve as a grim reminder of past failures.  

There is a flurry of last-minute spellcasting, and while the bard Mavis sings a song of hope and encouragement, Step gives his final command.  “Don’t follow too closely.  When I arrive in there, I want to be the focus of attention.”

He faces the Company.  

“The honor,” he shouts, drawing his Greatsword and holding it high to the sun, “has been mine!”

He turns to the Black Door, and through it he takes one certain step.


...to be continued...


----------



## the Jester

Oh, bravo, Step!

Whether his time has truly come or not, he is facing it like a paladin should.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Step is a paladin's paladin. Which is why it's such a shame that the Eye waiting on the other side of the door grabbed him and siezed his mind...

Only kidding.

To respond to those that think Yoba is evil, remember that for betrayal to be dramatic, you have to have trust.  If every NPC we meet is an evil bastich, then we simply won't trust anyone.  There have to be good people too, or the occasional sneaky ones have less weight.


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> To respond to those that think Yoba is evil, remember that for betrayal to be dramatic, you have to have trust.  If every NPC we meet is an evil bastich, then we simply won't trust anyone.  There have to be good people too, or the occasional sneaky ones have less weight.




This is _so_ true.  I've played in games in the past where all the NPCs were untrustworthy or incompetent, and the DM would woonder why we never trusted any of them, or helped them, or relied on them.  It's a lesson that I learned years and years ago...


----------



## Pyske

the Jester said:
			
		

> Oh, bravo, Step!
> 
> Whether his time has truly come or not, he is facing it like a paladin should.




Agreed.


----------



## el-remmen

Sagiro said:
			
		

> . . .he takes one certain step.




I bet you've been waiting a long time for that. . .     I am very anxious for the next installment. . .


----------



## Spatzimaus

Sagiro said:
			
		

> And Yoba insists that Ernie not be allowed to face further danger without her by his side.




Ah, young love.  It's the classic story.  Boy meets girl, boy goes into battle alongside girl, girl turns out to be horribly evil but they win the battle anyway, boy and girl settle down and raise a bunch of halfling-ish babies...


----------



## el-remmen

Spatzimaus said:
			
		

> Ah, young love.  It's the classic story.  Boy meets girl, boy goes into battle alongside girl, girl turns out to be horribly evil but they win the battle anyway, boy and girl settle down and raise a bunch of halfling-ish babies...




It much more likely that a villian will throw Yoba off a bridge and through Ernie shoots a web from his wrist in time to catch her, he pulls her up just to find out that the jerk of the stop snapped her neck.   Holding Yoba in his arms he cries out with an anguish and horror he has not felt since the death of his Uncle Ben that he always blamed himself for. . .  

. . oh wait, no it isn't. . .


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Spatzimaus said:
			
		

> Ah, young love.  It's the classic story.  Boy meets girl, boy goes into battle alongside girl, girl turns out to be horribly evil but they win the battle anyway, boy and girl settle down and raise a bunch of halfling-ish babies...




I thought that was Piratecat's game...


----------



## Tamlyn

Sagiro said:
			
		

> _*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 248*_
> *The Final Step*
> “The honor,” he shouts, drawing his Greatsword and holding it high to the sun, “has been mine!”
> 
> He turns to face the Black Door, and through it he takes one certain step.




Now _that's_ a way to end a chapter. Well done!


----------



## Vargo

Aw man, now I'm all misty-eyed.  How am I supposed to hold my reputation as some hard-nosed manly with all this sniffling?


----------



## Fajitas

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> To respond to those that think Yoba is evil, remember that for betrayal to be dramatic, you have to have trust.  If every NPC we meet is an evil bastich, then we simply won't trust anyone.  There have to be good people too, or the occasional sneaky ones have less weight.



Feh. KC's just trying to gain our trust with this so that it's dramatically meaningful when we find out she's lying... 

OOC, Sagiro, while the groundwork for Het Branoi was obviously laid a long time ago, I'm curious how much you knew when in what degree of detail.  Were the Slices always part of the plan, or was it just created as random, unspecified dungeon site?  Was Sagiro's specific fate as pawn of the Red Eye always intended?  Did you always know that this room right here was the fulfillment of Step's prophecy?

I'm always very curious about how these things develop in long term story arc'd campaigns.


----------



## Droid101

Been reading a long time, good stuff.

I still hate Dranko though.  He's so annoying and off-putting.

But bravo to all the other characters and fun situations!  Good writing Sag!


----------



## el-remmen

Droid101 said:
			
		

> I still hate Dranko though.  He's so annoying and off-putting.




Blasphemer!   Dranko is the best!

Morningstar is my least favorite. . .


----------



## spyscribe

Fajitas said:
			
		

> Feh. KC's just trying to gain our trust with this so that it's dramatically meaningful when we find out she's lying...




I don't know if Yoba is evil or not, but I do know that the fact that I have been humming Copacabana for the last _week and a half_ is proof positive that Plane Sailing is.

And holy crap, that was a masterwork cliff-hanger.  I'm torn between cheering at the sheer artistry of it and gnashing my teeth in frustration at having to wait to find out what happens next.


----------



## RangerWickett

Vargo said:
			
		

> Aw man, now I'm all misty-eyed.  How am I supposed to hold my reputation as some hard-nosed manly with all this sniffling?




Obviously you have to punch somebody. AND QUICKLY!

Sagiro, reading the chapter I realized I had some questions, but I'll ask them after we resolve the cliffhanger.


----------



## Everett

spyscribe said:
			
		

> I don't know if Yoba is evil or not, but I do know that the fact that I have been humming Copacabana for the last _week and a half_ is proof positive that Plane Sailing is.




Yepperss.


----------



## Piratecat

Droid101 said:
			
		

> I still hate Dranko though.  He's so annoying and off-putting.




Sorry about that. Sometimes he's kind of like the kind of bullying 14 year old you never wanted to run in to -- an overweening show off who seems to be more concerned with appearance than substance. He pushes some people to see how far he can bend them. That's intentional. On the other hand, I'm also very much shooting for the "diamond in the rough" mentality. His personality is tempered by his love for his God (although not necessarily his religion) and his endless loyalty and love for his friends. He sees himself as largely alone and unloved in the world, except for the small number of people who have learned to trust him (and vice versa.)  That's a treasure more valuable than any magic item or jeweled crown.

He's not really as shallow as he pretends. It's a ploy, but sometimes it backfires.  And if he doesn't at least have style, it's not for lack of trying.

Morningstar is certainly the most serious member of the group. She's the only neutral, and she's _far_ more suspicious than the others. She, too, had hidden depths; she's deeply committed and spiritual, and more pragmatic than anyone else. It's fascinating role playing from her player.

Kudos to Sagiro for the writing in this part, by the way. I was there -- and it's bringing the adreneline rush and teary eyes all over again. If I didn't love and respect his NPCs so much, it wouldn't hurt so much when they face horrible danger.

And we all still miss Abernathy. I mean really miss him, and this is an imaginary character who passed away in a game more than six years ago. Weird.


----------



## Droid101

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Dranko stuff



Fair enough.  At least you are staying in character.  What else can a DM ask for?


----------



## Zaruthustran

So on the other side of the curtain is a horrible creature that has a thing for torsos, huh? I think I may know what it is.

-z

Grandmother alert: there is a PG-13 word in text on other end of link.


----------



## StevenAC

Sagiro said:
			
		

> He turns to face the Black Door, and through it he takes one certain step.



Absolutely inspiring writing, Sagiro.

Inspiring enough, in fact, to prod me into completing the latest installment of the Collected Story Hour, which takes the story up to just before the Company's arrival in Bakersfield.  Happy (belated) birthday!  

So, are there any special celebrations planned for when the campaign celebrates its tenth anniversary in November?


----------



## Everett

Curious to know - does someone among the players often run Step and the other NPCs in the party, or does Sagiro run them himself?  It seems to me that to run an NPC with such a clearly defined personality would be quite a task for the DM....


----------



## LightPhoenix

Not the first time has ever brought a tear to my eye, and certainly not the last... but damn Sagiro, that was incredible.


----------



## Len

Everett said:
			
		

> Curious to know - does someone among the players often run Step and the other NPCs in the party, or does Sagiro run them himself?  It seems to me that to run an NPC with such a clearly defined personality would be quite a task for the DM....



No reason the DM can't be as good a roleplayer as the players. My DM played a particular NPC cleric so well that we dumped him (the cleric, not the DM) and hired a different one.  

In our group, cohorts are run by their leader's player and other tag-along NPCs are run by the DM.


----------



## Sagiro

Everett said:
			
		

> Curious to know - does someone among the players often run Step and the other NPCs in the party, or does Sagiro run them himself?  It seems to me that to run an NPC with such a clearly defined personality would be quite a task for the DM....



At a guess, I'd say that Step has been run by a guest player about 15% of the time (most often the husband of the player who used to play Kay), and Flicker has been run by a guest about 10% of the time.  The rest of the games, they're mine.     Morningstar's player and I tend to share Snokas -- I do more of the role-playing, but she handles him in combats and other tactical situations.  




			
				StevenAC said:
			
		

> So, are there any special celebrations planned for when the campaign celebrates its tenth anniversary in November?



We've talked about renting a cabin, either in the mountains to the north, or the cape to the south, and having a marathon weekend session.  But it's a hard thing to organize for a group of players as real-life-busy as we are.  (And it's recently become harder, what with Aravis and Me/Kodiak having babies.)  

And while I'm here:  thanks again for the great PDF's!  I still use them a few times in almost every planning session I do.




			
				Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> So on the other side of the curtain is a horrible creature that has a thing for torsos, huh?



Au contraire!  Whatever's in there tends to take off the limbs and heads but _leave_ the torsos.  Not that that's more comforting to the denizens of Bakersfield.

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

Fajitas said:
			
		

> OOC, Sagiro, while the groundwork for Het Branoi was obviously laid a long time ago, I'm curious how much you knew when in what degree of detail.  Were the Slices always part of the plan, or was it just created as random, unspecified dungeon site?  Was Sagiro's specific fate as pawn of the Red Eye always intended?  Did you always know that this room right here was the fulfillment of Step's prophecy?
> 
> I'm always very curious about how these things develop in long term story arc'd campaigns.




Fajitas, I’m going to answer you.  But first, a warning.  Readers who’d be happier not getting a glimpse of my game’s  “sausage factory” may not want to read this post.  That includes my players.  While I confess I do a fair amount of long-term planning and foreshadowing, I don’t think I do as much as you probably think.   This post my help confirm or deny your suspicions.

That said, I’m not about to say anything shocking, like “I decided what Het Branoi was in the half-hour before the Company went in, and was making up each Slice as they went.”  And my players won’t be spoiled, though they may be disillusioned.

I'll put everything after this in a spoiler tag, so folks only read it if they really want to.


[sblock]
So...regarding Het Branoi:  The very first time the Company heard this term, it was when the Green and Purple Eyes spoke their prophetic bit about needing the third Eye to “travel nowhere.”  At that very moment, all I knew about Het Branoi was that it was a) a dungeon-like environment, and b) that I wanted it be an extended adventure.  Also c) It was in Kivia – thus, the “beyond the Gate of Fire” reference.  And d) of course, which was:  there was an Eye of Moirel in it.

That was it – there weren’t 5 Hets back then, and I didn’t know what the Black Circle was doing in them.  

At that point I knew the game was years away from the inside of Het Branoi, so I didn’t bother worrying about what was in it.  As the moment grew closer, my first idea was that it was like the old “Baba Yaga’s Hut” module from Dragon Magazine – a bigger-on-the-inside house with a bunch of weirdly connected rooms.  I even borrowed the issue from Dr. Rictus and had read through it, intending to keep the geography and refill the rooms.   But as the day grew closer, and I had thought more about other parts of the plot, I realized that the module was insufficient for what I needed it to be.   I knew then that there were many Hets, and I knew what the Black Circle had been up to.  Het Branoi needed to have specific relations to the Abyss, and to Cleaners, and Baba Yaga’s Hut didn’t seem like it could do.  So, I decided to keep the “bigger on the inside” thing, but expand on what that meant, and how to design it.   I ended borrowing from the first computer game I had worked on – Ultima Underworld II – and started designing Het Branoi for real.  By the time the Company got there, it was pretty much ready to go.

Regarding Sagiro:  Similar thing.  When he was knocked into the river and swept away, I knew I wanted him to come back after a very, very long absence.   My first thought was that the fall gave him a knock on the head, erasing his memories and breaking him out of Darkeye’s thrall.   I’d have him rescued by farmers and the Company would find him working in a field someday.  But, heck, that was boring.   Instead, I had him finding his way back to the Sharshun.  When I thought about his relationship to the Sharshun, I realized what mission they would send him on:  go get the last Eye of Moirel they needed to change history.   Now, this was back when Het Branoi was Baba Yaga’s Hut, and I imagined that Sagiro had gone in (without an Eye of his own) and become captured by some power, and that the Company would find him, whimpering in a dark cell, but with knowledge about how to find the Eye.   When Het Branoi changed, Sagiro’s role changed too.  I had two main reasons for giving him his own Eye:  1) Having a hostile Eye gave me an excuse to “tie up” the two friendly ones, so as to answer more plausibly the question “why don’t the Eyes just solve the end of the dungeon for us,” and 2) so that I could pull the “you think you’re finding the Eye you’re after, but ha ha!  It’s a _different_ Eye!” trick.

Regarding Step and the Lightless Room:  Ditto.  When Step first shared his prophecy, all I knew what that there’d be some dark room in Het Branoi and that he’d have to do something heroic in it that would probably cost him his life.   Because I didn’t tie myself down to details at the time, I was able to develop what that meant to mesh nicely with all the other ideas I had about Het Branoi in the interim.

So, the clear lesson here is:  only flesh out the details when you have to.  The longer you wait, the more creative flexibility you give yourself, and the more integrated you can make your plot.  

Which is not to say, though, that there aren’t _some_ story elements that I really did plan ten years ago, and which will soon be coming full circle.  [insert evil laughter]
[/sblock]

- Sagiro.


----------



## coyote6

Sagiro, that's the way to do it, IMO.


----------



## Everett

Regarding the end of that spoiler, I just have to tell you that you're insane.  Not that others haven't, since they have.  But sometimes you have to say these things your own self.  

You're not sane.  There are elements of that which is generally felt to be sanity that do not commingle with your intentions behind this campaign.  Which is to say that they aren't there.  Not present.  Lacking and underdeveloped.

You might want to know.


----------



## shilsen

Everett said:
			
		

> Regarding the end of that spoiler, I just have to tell you that you're insane.  Not that others haven't, since they have.  But sometimes you have to say these things your own self.
> 
> You're not sane.  There are elements of that which is generally felt to be sanity that do not commingle with your intentions behind this campaign.  Which is to say that they aren't there.  Not present.  Lacking and underdeveloped.
> 
> You might want to know.



 You say that like it's a bad thing


----------



## Plane Sailing

Sagiro said:
			
		

> _*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 248*_
> *The Final Step*
> 
> ...
> 
> 
> “The honor,” he shouts, drawing his Greatsword and holding it high to the sun, “has been mine!”
> 
> He turns to face the Black Door, and through it he takes one certain step.




Sagiro, there are a very few times when I've read an episode in a book and got 'choked up' on the emotion in it. This is the first time I ever remember feeling that way about a Storyhour. It is perfect writing of a situation with genuine emotion, and I salute you.

Cheers


----------



## Plane Sailing

spyscribe said:
			
		

> I don't know if Yoba is evil or not, but I do know that the fact that I have been humming Copacabana for the last _week and a half_ is proof positive that Plane Sailing is.






I have a terrible memory for avatars, but were you the TV evangelist who went mad up on Blood Rock?

Ah, evil days


----------



## spyscribe

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> I have a terrible memory for avatars, but were you the TV evangelist who went mad up on Blood Rock?




Yep, that would have been me.    

You know you're in a good game when one of the GMs walks up behind you and says, "I think now would be a good time for you to start speaking in tongues."


----------



## Sagiro

To Plane Sailing and LightPhoenix: it warms my heart to know I've managed to convey, at least to someone, the lump-in-throat, heart-pounding feeling I had at the table as Step was taking his step through the Black Door.  I know I'm not supposed to grow attached to my NPC's, but that was an emotional run for me -- both for Step's plot arc, and for the fact that I was about to enact one of the most complex single scenes (in terms of number of actors) that I had ever tried to pull off.  (The Battle of Verdshane was bigger, though I don't know if it counts as "a single scene.") 

I've just finished transcribing from tape what happened on the other side of the Black Door.  I'm probably not spoiling it to say that it involved some combat.  Because of the huge number of participants, and the length of the whole scene, I don't think it will work for me to provide the usual round-by-round narrative of who did what.   I'll have to think about the best way to present it all, and that may take me a while longer.  No promises, but I'm guessing I'll start resolving this cliffhanger with a post in the next few days.   A whole bunch of cool stuff happened beyond the Black Door, both in terms of cool PC tactics, and horrific enemy abilities.  (Morningstar's player called me "a sick, sick bastard."  I have it on tape!)  It was hugely fun for me to relive it.  I hope I can convey that.  Hm.

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

A short update, to set the scene.

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 249*_
*The One in the Lightless Room*

There is a place... 

No.  No there isn’t.  To assign it the term ‘place’ is to grant an undeserved grounding in reality.  'Dimension' is a better term.  Or maybe ‘frame of reference.’   ‘Madness’ is also close to the mark.  Planar scholars have arrived at a term that implies nothing because nothing is what they know.  

The Far Realms.

There are beings in the Far Realms, and ‘madness’ would be good term for those as well.   They dwell in the dark reaches beyond the borders of the multiverse, bizarre tentacled things thinking unfathomable thoughts.  It is extremely fortunate that these creatures have little interest, under normal circumstances, in the affairs of men.

Since names make things easier, we'll call one of these beings ‘Fgogl.’  Fgogl is old even for a denizen of the Far Realms, a huge, drifting presence in a gibbering void.  The material world would have been better off had it never attracted the attention of Fgogl, but it's too late now for that.  First there was the Chamber, and now... something else.  Floating, squirming, Fgogl bumped against a strange material construct, a web of connected planes from the Other Side, lodged like a tumor in the fabric of the Far Reams.

Fgogl was annoyed.  

Through a century of studious observation, Fgogl found the source of the tumor, a blue speck of concentrated power.  Fgogl was troubled.  This speck was leaking, pulsing, emanating...and growing.  It was an irritant.  Worse, Fgogl could not discern a way to be rid of it, or the growth it was fueling.  Only when something disturbed the web from inside could parts of it be eradicated, but that was infrequent, and its rate of expansion was troublingly quick. 

The blue cancer had strong defenses that protected its heart.  But slightly removed from the heart there was a single aperture through which the tumor was pouring out much of its power, and that, thought Fgogl, was a point of weakness.  The mighty creature of the Far Realms thrust a single massive tentacle through the fabric of space, into the section of tumor that housed the opening.   Like a twisted antibody it surrounded the aperture, blocking the flow of energy, sealing it from the emptiness of its home.  Fgogl exuded an absence of feeling, a paradoxically palpable oblivion that dulled the irritation.

Better.

Lesser beings of the Far Realms were attracted by Fgogl's thoughts and actions.  They too extended tentacular extensions of themselves into the cancerous labyrinth, probing, questing in the strange anti-space of the Other Side.  Sometimes they found playthings, which they slew.  They heard the echoes of Fgogl's ideas, that the Aperture should be guarded while the mighty creature pondered how to be rid of the anomaly for good.  Some of the lesser beings worked out a way to imbue life and thought to their playthings, though they were puppets that still needed a will to move them.  And while these would die, there were always more arriving, more puppets, so fragile – playthings dying in the dark.


* *


Ten seconds.  

The assembled heroes finish up the last of their preparatory spells, and ten seconds after watching One Certain Step vanish into the Black Door, they follow.  The first sensation they have is a familiar one, of being pulled through a dark void from one Slice to the next.   Then they are emerging, and sensation, for the most part, ceases.

Beyond the Black Door there is no sight.  There is no sound.  There is no sense of temperature, and the air, if it exists, carries no scent.  They may be standing on solid ground but there’s no way to be sure – it’s possible they’re in freefall.   Some of the heroes are imbued with _true seeing_ or _greater arcane sight_, but their augmented perceptions are utterly foiled.  (Or maybe they work perfectly, and there’s _nothing to experience_.)  Only the connections of several interlaced _telepathic bonds_ provide assurance to each of the group that they have not been separated into individual Slices.   All thoughts are on One Certain Step, and what awaits them in the dark.

Time passes.  No one knows how much.  It might be a second, a minute, an hour.  

There is a sound, coming as if from far away.   It’s a shock to hear it, and though no one can identify it, the sensation returns the ability to measure time.  Over the next two seconds the sound grows louder, and as they realize it’s a human scream, a tiny glowing spot appears.  

The point of light provides spatial reference, just as the sound provides a temporal one.  They think the light is many dozens of feet out from them, and just as high in the air.  Another two seconds, and the light grows along with the sound.   It’s a heart-rending scream of pain, and they know the voice.  The light flares to the brightness of a strong lantern, revealing a human silhouette hanging high up, light spilling out of it.   The scream grows louder, and they catch the glint of a sword as it falls from the silhouette’s hand.  The blade falls out of the range of the light, and if it strikes ground it makes no noise.

WHOOOOOOOSH!  A sun is kindled high in the air, revealing that they are standing in a huge stone cavern, a hundred feet across and nearly as high, and filled with – no, not yet.  Everyone’s eyes are drawn to the center of that sun, where a body is suspended in the air.  

It’s held there by a pair of long tentacles.   One protrudes from a wall of the cavern, and is wrapped around the body’s torso.   The second is anchored to the ceiling and grips the body’s legs.  As the heroes below watch in horror, the two tentacles casually finish pulling One Certain Step apart.  The paladin’s dying scream ends abruptly.   The light of his soul does not.   

The cavern is flooded with brilliant radiance, and it reveals... horrors.   A crazed fear beats at the minds of the Company and their allies.  They know that without the lingering effects of the _heroes’ feast_ they would be mad with terror.  Even so, there is no mistaking the disquieting wrongness of Cleaners, permeating the air like poison.  

In the light of Step’s sacrifice, there is no mistaking the source.

All sensation has come rushing back to them in that radiance.   The air is filled with a hissing, rasping, squirming sound, of hundreds of foot-thick tentacles thrusting out from the walls, ceiling and floor of the cavern.   The tentacles are quivering crazily, as if whatever they’re attached to behind the stone is being administered an electric shock.   It is heartening (the only such thing here) that these myriad tentacles are each kinked, bending sharply away from the center of the new sun.  

The rocky, tentacled floor of this room – lightless no longer – is thick with bodies.  Everywhere is the glint of armor, weapons, and enchanted gleaming objects too numerous to count.  Everyone who came before them to brave this place now lies dead on the ground.  But even Dranko and Flicker hardly notice.  Like everyone else, their eyes, squinting past Step’s radiance, are on the Trunk.

There’s no better word for it.  It’s a tentacle, to be sure, a brownish translucent tentacle like all the rest.  But it’s thirty feet in diameter and almost a hundred feet long, vanishing into the rock of both the floor and ceiling of the cavern.  Hundreds of smaller tentacles protrude from the Trunk like cilia.  At its base, maybe sixty feet from the now-expanded Company, roam two large creatures, living masses of smaller tentacles.  

Near ground level, and buried deep in the center of the translucent Trunk, there is a clear blue glow.

“I hate when I’m right,” thinks Grey Wolf.

...to be continued...


----------



## Micah

wow... well written.

Sad to see Step go, but it certainly is in a blaze of glory.

From a readers standpoint he seemed more like a PC than an NPC. Very well developed character. 

Can't wait to read more...


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## RangerWickett

I honestly did not expect the guardians of the black door would be the cleaners. After seeing what those bastards did before just by touching Dranko, well . . . this should be cool.

I think the image of a manalone in the darkness, illuminated by his own light as he is slain, will remain with me for quite a while.


----------



## shilsen

Micah said:
			
		

> wow... well written.
> 
> Sad to see Step go, but it certainly is in a blaze of glory.




REALLY bad pun, Micah


----------



## Fajitas

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Fgogl exuded an absence of feeling, a paradoxically palpable oblivion that dulled the irritation.



This may be my new favorite sentence in the English language...  

Well said, sir.  Bravo.


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## Tamlyn

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> I think the image of a manalone in the darkness, illuminated by his own light as he is slain, will remain with me for quite a while.




You said it better than I could. All I could think to say was, "Wow!".


----------



## Dawn

Micah said:
			
		

> wow... well written.
> 
> Sad to see Step go, but it certainly is in a blaze of glory.
> 
> From a readers standpoint he seemed more like a PC than an NPC. Very well developed character.
> 
> Can't wait to read more...




I kept forgetting he was an NPC, so well played and involved in the plot as he was. 

Well written description of the cavern.


----------



## Funeris

Alas poor Step, we knew you well....
(through the glory of magnificent characterization)

Wonderful job, Sagiro


----------



## Fimmtiu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> The rocky, tentacled floor of this room – lightless no longer – is thick with bodies.  Everywhere is the glint of armor, weapons, and enchanted gleaming objects too numerous to count.




(And now for something completely crass!) Boy, I hope that, after this long, hard slog through Het Branoi, they at least end up getting to loot this horrorshow after the asskicking's done. Sounds like quite the reward!


----------



## Everett

Sagiro said:
			
		

> The cavern is flooded with brilliant radiance, and it reveals... horrors.   A crazed fear beats at the minds of the Company and their allies.  They know that without the lingering effects of the _heroes’ feast_ they would be mad with terror.  Even so, there is no mistaking the disquieting wrongness of Cleaners, permeating the air like poison.





I'm not sure if I really want to know, but here goes.  What are Cleaners?  Why are they called that?  I kind of get it, but I also really kind of muchly don't get it.


----------



## Plane Sailing

Everett said:
			
		

> I'm not sure if I really want to know, but here goes.  What are Cleaners?  Why are they called that?  I kind of get it, but I also really kind of muchly don't get it.




The best way is to read this post on p32

http://www.enworld.org/showpost.php?p=2020971&postcount=1262

It contains a flashback and dramatic action both!


----------



## Everett

So the Cleaners dissolve realities around them.  They 'clean' dimensions around them, making the Slices into null space.  

The more intriguing question is, why?  Unless the answer is "because".


----------



## Ian the Mad

The answer seems to be that they're malefic denizens of the Far Realm and have a distinct distaste for "alien" (which is to say, everything not from the Far Realm) matter of all sorts.  Het Branoi is apparently a web of planar slices constructed in the Far Realm.  I can imagine that having their territory invaded in such a manner would render them a might tetchy.

Alternately, they are intensely alien beings and just feel like taking things apart for the heck of it.

Also, while I'm breaking lurk here, I may as well congratulate you on having an extremely fine Story Hour, Sagiro.  My proverbial hat is off to you.


----------



## Sagiro

Ian, it's always nice to hear from someone who's enjoying the story!   Your first theory is pretty much on the mark.

Once I started writing this session in earnest, I realized that I _am_ going to have to detail a lot of combat actions.  There are plenty of individual moments that will want retelling, and which will make no sense without a pretty full context, comabt-wise.  I'm still not going to detail what _every_ character did on _every_ turn, but it looks like most of the interesting stuff will end up in there somewhere.  I'm breaking up the combat into multiple posts, of which this is the first.  No promises about when I'll get to the next one, since it looks like a busy weekend coming up.  But I'll do what I can.  

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 250*_
*Tentacular Spectacular*

“This looks like an intestine!”

Dranko gulps and looks at down at Ernie.  “No, it doesn’t.  This is worse.”

“And Dranko would know,” adds Flicker.  

Aravis’s _greater arcane sight_ has flicked on like a switch.  The cavern is flooded with a mix of strong Earth magic and even stronger... something.  Whatever you call the magic of the Cleaners and their realm, this place is full of it.

To the crowd of prime-dwellers, there is a tiny glimmer of hope that despite the horrors of their situation, it’ll be a straightforward matter of dealing enough damage to the Trunk to reach the Eye at its center.   The many tentacles around the perimeter of the cavern seem to be disabled by the bright sunlight of Step’s demise, leaving only the two tentacle-mass creatures, and the immobile Trunk.   They have a clear numerical advantage.

The Company spreads out into the space.    Most of the clerics release _spiritual weapons_ that go streaking toward the Trunk, and  Kibi unleashes a _prismatic spray_ followed up with a quickened _coldfire_ catching all three enemies in the blasts.   Wild magic surges through his body and the _coldfire_ is spontaneously twinned, a pair of loud blasts echoing through the cave and searing the flesh of the Trunk and its two Masses.   In the wake of the spells many of the smaller tentacles are seared away.  Two turn to stone and break off near the floor.  

The glimmer of hope grows.  Protected by the _heroes’ feast_, illuminated by Step’s dazzling aftermath, and numbering over a dozen stalwart adventurers, maybe they can just overwhelm these unnatural things and be done with Het Branoi.

Alas, no.

From the ground three bodies rise, each at the end of its own wall-anchored tentacle.  Each body is like the weight at the end of a long whip, jerking through the air like a spasmodic puppet.  

There is a headless human-ish body wearing platemail and holding a greatsword.    The end of its tentacle is wrapped around the corpse, and its tip sticks up through the neck like a grotesque parody of a head.  The tentacle whips and swings until the body is hovering in front of Kibi, and the body launches a full attack.   Most of the damage is absorbed by a _stoneskin_, but Kibi still stumbles back in the face of this new threat.

There is a dead troll being held up aloft by its ankle.  This creature is dangled over Snokas, whom it savages with tooth and claw.

And there is a body with no legs, a tentacle wrapped tightly around its torso.  It was once an elven woman by the look of it, and now it is lifted high into the air, seventy feet off the ground by its controlling tentacle.  From its lofty vantage the former sorceress casts a powerful _sonic chain lightning_ into the midst of the Company, centered on Grey Wolf.   The booming sound of the spell reverberates around the cavern, shaking small bits of rock loose from a few jagged stalactites.  

The two Masses are still near the Trunk, so Aravis takes advantage, catching all three in an _empowered cone of cold_.  The Mass’s tentacles flap wildly, ice forming and snapping off of them.  The Trunk quivers slightly, but endures.   One of the Masses turns to... face?  Aravis and waves its four largest tentacles at him.  He watches as strange runes carved upon them start to glow a sickly green, and then feels a revolting sensation rise in his gut.  But whatever it was trying to do to him, he fights off the effect.  

The combat is joined in earnest then, a furious maelstrom of steel and magic.  Snokas fights off one of the animated bodies with his pick, while Cashbox Jack and Yoba attack the Mass.   The sorcerer Ox follows Aravis’s lead; he flies up to get an angle that won’t catch his friends and casts his own _empowered cone of cold_, again blasting the Trunk and the two Masses.  

While Dranko rushes to heal the grievously wounded Grey Wolf, Flicker joins Jack in carving up the nearest Mass.  

The second Mass lurches toward Snokas.  Its four major tentacles glow with green runes, but like Aravis, Snokas is able to resist the effect.  Everyone is just as happy not to know what it’s trying to do.   But then it physically slaps Snokas with those tentacles, and in addition to tearing into his flesh, their alien touch drains away some of his intellect.

The Company has little time to ponder this new development, as a fourth body rises from the ground.  This one is wrapped entirely around the body’s legs and torso, leaving only its arms and minotaur’s head exposed.  The arms of the body wave about, and Ox’s _fly_ spell is _dispelled_.  He _feather falls_ forty feet to the ground, swearing all the while.  

Kiro targets the body that cast the _sonic chain lightning_ with a _flame strike_, and Morningstar follows this up with a massive _firestorm_ that burns every enemy in the cavern with black flames.  For an encore she casts a _quickened searing darkness_ at the body of the sorceress.   The animated corpse is burned off its tentacle and drops seventy feet to the ground, a development that is met with much cheering among the heroes.  

The cheering is short lived.   A _fifth_ body is lifted up into the air by a new tentacle.  This body is a powerfully-built dwarf, and in place of a torn-off right arm, a mass of smaller tentacles grips its war axe.   It ignores the fact that Dranko is _invisible_, and delivers three vicious cuts with the axe, each inflicting extra sonic damage with the sound of thunderclaps.  

_Tentacles using magic items_ thinks Dranko, grimacing in pain.  _Not fair!_

He gets a close up look at the half-decayed face of the dwarf, with small tentacles spilling from its mouth and an old wound in its cheek.   Then Sagiro is by his side, puncturing the creature with his rapier.

Grey Wolf surveys the battlefield, every detail of which is still sunlit and distinct.  

“The main tentacle?” he thinks over the _telepathic bond_.

His fellow arcanists agree.  Grey Wolf casts his _iron storm_ so that it encompasses both of the Masses and a good portion of the Trunk.  

The combat rages on, weapons and spells flashing.  Kibi can still feel the earth magic flooding him, coursing up his arms with every spell he casts.  His _empowered chain lightning_ is sucked into the _ironstorm_, burning away chunks of his enemies.    Aravis does likewise.   Most of the melee types trade damage with the revolting tentacle-animated bodies.  The Masses, when not trying their yet-to-succeed glowing-green-rune attack, flail away with tentacles that drain points from random ability scores.   Beneath them, black ichor is pooling from Company-inflicted wounds.  

Ernie flies right up to the Trunk, dodging the waving tentacles that protrude from its length.   He can see that the Trunk is quite damaged in places, but that the blue glow is still deep inside of it.  One thing that surprises him is that it’s not covered with crystal, like most things are that are possessed by Eyes of Moirel.  

_This is the canary that entrapped the cat_, he thinks.  _The Eye cannot possess it._

Through the mottled brown-and-clear flesh, Ernie can see that the blue glow is larger than he is, a rough rectangular shape that wavers and warbles at its edges.   But there’s something else that grabs his attention, something that he immediately transmits over the mind link.   He can also see that high up, near the ceiling, the Trunk is giving birth.  It seems to be squeezing a third Mass out of itself; its tentacles writhe and flap as they become exposed to the cavern’s sunlight.  

Down below, one of the Masses waves its four rune-covered tentacles at Aravis, who had just delivered yet another _chain lightning_ into the _ironstorm_.   This time, he is unable to resist the attack.  There is a massive pain in his side... and a foot-thick, ten-foot-long brown tentacle erupts from his abdomen.  Aravis goes white as a sheet, as his body is jerked around by the powerful flailing of the tentacle.   Adding injurious insult, the tentacle sprouting from his side slaps Aravis painfully in the head.  For good measure, the Mass squishes forward and smashes him with all four of its _own_ tentacles.   Bruised and battered, and with some of his constitution drained away by the touch of his enemy, Aravis drops to his knees, hovering on the ragged edge of consciousness.

...to be continued...


----------



## Someone

After reading the last part, I agree you´re a sick bastard (no offense intended)


----------



## Ovinomancer

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Morningstar's player called me "a sick, sick bastard."  -Sagiro




Gross understatement!

I doff my cap, sir!


----------



## shilsen

Beautiful, just beautiful! *wipes away a tear*


----------



## coyote6

_Force-grow tentacle_ certainly does qualify as "sick" in my book. I may have to steal it.

I'm curious -- how did you run the fight, with all the extra NPC guys (Jack, Ox, etc.) around? Were you running them all, were players running some or all, were there extra players, or what?


----------



## Enkhidu

Out of curiousity, Sagiro, how long ago did you decide to let your players open up the proverbial can of whoopass with the ironstorm/lightning bolt family combo (which I assume simply allows the lightning bolt to be an area effect spell instead of a line effect), and how has it played out in practice - too much? too little? about right?


----------



## Sagiro

coyote6 said:
			
		

> _Force-grow tentacle_ certainly does qualify as "sick" in my book. I may have to steal it.
> 
> I'm curious -- how did you run the fight, with all the extra NPC guys (Jack, Ox, etc.) around? Were you running them all, were players running some or all, were there extra players, or what?



My players all helped out, each playing an extra character as follows:

Piratecat (Dranko's player): Ox
KidCthulhu (Ernie's player): Yoba
Kodiak (Kibi's player): Cashbox Jack
Aravis (Aravis's player): Snokas
Grey Wolf's player:  Sagiro Emberleaf
Morningstar's player: Kiro

I still played Flicker, along with the cast of a thousand tentacles.

Listening to the tape, I was surprised at how little "dragging" there was in the combat, given the battlemat complexity and doubling up of player responsibility.  

Oh, and I see several of you successfully identified the exact moment of the "sick, sick bastard" comment.   

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

Enkhidu said:
			
		

> Out of curiousity, Sagiro, how long ago did you decide to let your players open up the proverbial can of whoopass with the ironstorm/lightning bolt family combo (which I assume simply allows the lightning bolt to be an area effect spell instead of a line effect), and how has it played out in practice - too much? too little? about right?



In practice, the lightning/ironstorm combo is _slightly_ overpowered, but not so much that I want to do anything about it.  The combo still has to be used thoughtfully and tactically.  Remember, the _ironstorm_ is immobile, and enemies can move out of it, but even if there's no one in the _ironstorm_, electricity still gets shunted to it.  Effectively Grey Wolf has to spend one action to cast it, and sometimes another action to dismiss it.  Those are actions where he's not doing any direct damage.  For the spell slot, he could cast his own 10d6 _fireball_, for instance.  The flexibility of the combo has to be worth an extra 10d6 of damage to be worth it, and that's not always going to be the case.  

The combo really shines with _chain lightning_, but even then, it has to be used carefully in order to deal extra damage.   If you can catch a number of enemies clumped in the _ironstorm_, it's downright deadly -- but I think that's okay for a two-spell combo of a 3rd and 6th level spell.  

A little off-the-cuff math:  assume a favorable scenario, where there are 8 targets in the _ironstorm_.   Say that Aravis and Grey Wolf are both 15th level.  (They were lower in the tentacle fight, btw).  _Ironstorm_ has a 20' radius, and _chain lightning_ effectively has a 30' radius, so we'll assume all 8 targets are in the area of both spells.

Without an _ironstorm_, Grey Wolf could cast a 10d6 fireball, and Aravis could get them all with a 15d6/7d6 _chain lightning_.  In other words, one target would take 25d6, and the remaining seven targets would take 17d6.  That's 144d6 of total damage.

With the _ironstorm_ in place, all eight targets take 19d6, which is 152d6 of damage.   In other words, the combo does about 6% more damage*.  That doesn't seem broken to me.

In a more common case, where there's (say) three targets, the damage totals are exactly the same.  Now, if you arrange for your enemies not to leave the _ironstorm_, the combo gets more powerful, but that doesn't bother me so much.  It's a powerful combo that encourages good tactical thinking. 

And if you can find an enemy that can't get out of the way -- say, a huge immobile tentacle -- you can really make hay.  

-Sagiro

*not including the extra damage done because more of the damage has a higher reflex save DC -- but that's more math than I want to do right now.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 251*_
*How can this not be the Boss Fight?*

Dranko, grievously wounded, has been intending either to heal himself or to try finishing off the more wounded Mass.  Instead, seeing Aravis’s gruesome new pseudopodia, he rushes over with a wand of _cure critical wounds_ and brings his friend back from death’s door.   He hears another sound of a _chain lightning_, this one from Ox, get sucked into the _ironstorm_.  The Trunk sizzles. 

Flicker launches a vicious attack at the Mass.  He’s _hasted_, and finds that these things _can_ be sneak-attacked.  (At the center of the Mass is an actual body, hard to reach, but more vulnerable.)  He practically disappears into its multitude of smaller tentacles, and the others see gouts of black ooze spattering out of its middle.  Finally it stops moving, and settles into a lifeless lump of drooping rubbery ropes.  Flicker squirms out of its dead embrace, covered nearly head to toe in dark fluid and grinning like a maniac.   

It takes Yoba a second to get over her shock at Aravis’s condition, but with a determined grimace she steps up to him, watches for a second, and slashes mightily with her sword.  She lops the tentacle off only a foot from Aravis’s body, and that’s enough.  The remaining foot slides sickeningly out of his body, leaving a gaping wound.  

“I... I’m sorry,” says Yoba, as Aravis gasps in pain.  “It seemed for the best.”

“That’s okay,” Aravis croaks.  

The second Mass, itself badly wounded, still presses the attack.  It fails to cause Ox to sprout a tentacle, but it slaps him hard with all four of its own appendages.  The damage is immense, and now Ox is close to death.  

High in the air Ernie hears a loud sucking noise from the Trunk, as a third Mass drops out from near the top and lands with a squelch at its base.    It looks slightly smaller than the others, and its tentacles are thinner, but it’s still larger than an ogre and writhing for all it's worth.   Turning back to the Trunk, he can see now that it’s been seriously damaged by the repeated spells.  The part in the _ironstorm_ is ragged and spewing blood.

“Hurt the pillar!” he thinks to the others.  “Keep hurting the pillar!”  

The minotaur body is lifted by its tentacle and whipped high in the air while it casts a spell.  Then the tentacle brings it down to the second Mass, on which the minotaur casts _heal_.    To make things more fair, Kiro casts _heal_ on Ox, while Morningstar does the same to Aravis.  

The battle grinds on.  Ernie continues to slash at the Trunk, with Beryn Sur dancing on one side of him and his _spiritual weapon_ chopping away on the other.  Wedges of mottled flesh are hacked out of the Trunk and drop wetly to the stone below.   Down below, Yoba looks up and watches Ernie’s brave assault, admiration shining in her eyes.  

More blows are traded.  Sagiro attacks the tentacle-armed dwarf, who in turn unloads a full attack on the already injured Dranko.  Somehow the half-orc stays conscious, but he knows that even if he survives, his scar collection will be getting a huge boost.  

Before sinking into the stone floor for cover, Kibi _summons_ a large earth elemental by the Trunk, then follows with a _quickened coldfire_ that catches multiple foes.   The troll is seared away from its tentacle and falls lifelessly to the floor.  The headless body with the greatsword and platemail survives, and is then carried up near the ceiling by its tentacle, where it unleashes an _ice storm_ on the thickest concentration of heroes.  

More melee, more spells, more pain on both sides.  Jack has lost his rapier in the body of one of the Masses, forcing a switch to his returning daggers.  Snokas gamely swings his picks.  Aravis and Ox fire off _empowered cones of cold_.   With concentrated effort they manage to knock two more bodies – the minotaur and the dwarf – from their tentacles.   (And a good thing, too.  The axe-wielding dwarf was gearing up to finish off Dranko – and it surely would have, with one more round of attacks – when Yoba stepped forward to finish it off.)  Meanwhile the Masses continue to wreak havoc among the heroes.  Though they don’t cause any more tentacles to bloom, their melee attacks are hugely damaging, and the ability-score drain is starting to add up.  

Ernie keeps carving away.  The Trunk has now endured damage that would have brought a small army to its knees, but still it stands, blocking access to the blue glow at its center.  Ernie has hewn himself a small niche in its bulk, and this affords a better look at his ultimate goal.

His heart sinks.  He can see now that the bright blue object at the center of the Trunk is not an Eye of Moirel at all, but rather yet another Way, albeit a particularly vibrant one.   _That_ would explain the lack of crystal.

“Crap!” he thinks, and conveys this to the others.  “This isn’t even the big fight!”

But there’s something else, something worse, something that’s been happening for several seconds and is now impossible to ignore. 

Slowly but unmistakably, the light of One Certain Step is fading.


 * *

Let us return for a moment to Kibilhathur Bimson.   Having cast his spells, he finally remembered that he should be using his _xorn movement_ to give himself cover each round.  Now he has sunk himself into the rock floor of the cavern.   Ordinarily Kibi finds comfort in subterranean immersion, but this time it’s different.

He can feel an increase in the Earth Magic, but it’s accompanied by a much _larger_ surge in the churning nausea of Cleaners.  There are _things_ in there with him, squirming in and through the stone.   Worst of all, he can sense that below him the stone doesn’t get denser and more solid, but rather that if he were to descend much deeper, he’d leave the earth all together and plunge into...

To his credit, he doesn’t go mad.  Instead he hastens to the surface, and once back in the relative comfort of the Cleaner-infested cavern he sends an _empowered lightning bolt_ sizzling into the _ironstorm_.   Over the mindlink, Ernie informs the mages that further use of the _ironstorm_ will be pointless; all of the Trunk that was in its area has effectively been burned away.


* *

Realizing that Step’s light won’t last more than another five minutes (if that), Grey Wolf casts _body of the sun_.  For a second his body flares with light, sending the nearest tentacles shying away from him.  But almost immediately that light becomes dimmed, as the overwhelming presence of Fgogl stifles the effect.  

From high above them, the platemail-clad body unleashes another _ice storm_.  Given the precarious heath of many of the heroes, Aravis decides to minimize the risk of one of the Masses delivering a killing blow.  He casts _reverse gravity_, sending the newly-born Mass hurtling up toward the cavern’s roof.   Even from that distance the thing tries (and fortunately fails)  to force another tentacle to burst from Aravis.   The remaining Mass at ground level is subject to a final burst of attacks from the heroes – Jack keeps throwing his daggers, Ox casts another _cone of cold_, and Flicker tumbles in to once again deal the killing blow.   Already dripping with black goo, things just get worse for Flicker in that regard.  The dead Mass falls on top of him.  

While Yoba _lays hands_ on Dranko, and Kiro applies much needed healing to himself, two of the Trunk’s smaller tentacles wrap around Snokas and Ernie, pinning their arms to their sides.   They hold their prey out away from the Trunk – and in the _ironstorm_.  At their mental cries of alarm, Grey Wolf dismiss the spell. 

So.  Two of the Masses are dead, and the third is suspended helpless in a _reverse gravity_ field.  Only one animated body is still active.   The Trunk seems badly damaged, and the heroes’ healing magic has kept pace with their wounds.  Best of all, no one since Aravis has sprouted an unwanted tentacle.  

On the other hand, many of the heroes are still seriously injured, and Snokas and Ernie are being grappled by the Trunk’s smaller appendages.  And now, from a spot about half-way up the Trunk’s body, a pale green light begins to glow.  Ernie looks up and wonders what new devilry is brewing.

“This can’t be good,” he thinks to the others, and no one disagrees.

...to be continued...


----------



## Jackylhunter

Wow


----------



## Fimmtiu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> It takes Yoba a second to get over her shock at Aravis’s condition, but with a determined grimace she steps up to him, watches for a second, and slashes mightily with her sword.  She lops the tentacle off only a foot from Aravis’s body, and that’s enough.  The remaining foot slides sickeningly out of his body, leaving a gaping wound.
> 
> “I... I’m sorry,” says Yoba, as Aravis gasps in pain.  “It seemed for the best.”
> 
> “That’s okay,” Aravis croaks.




So many jokes... so very many jokes... must resist... agh...


----------



## ToddSchumacher

I just want to say, I've just spent the past week reading this story hour from the beginning (I have all 15 pdfs on my desktop right now) and just finished the last update just now.




Bravo!



You, sir, deserve a medal or something.


----------



## Sagiro

ToddSchumacher said:
			
		

> I just want to say, I've just spent the past week reading this story hour from the beginning (I have all 15 pdfs on my desktop right now) and just finished the last update just now.
> ...
> You, sir, deserve a medal or something.



You read the whole thing in a week, and you say _*I*_ deserve the medal?   That's 600 pages of PDFs!  But, thank you for posting.  I'm glad you're enjoying the story!  

(Really, though, my players deserve the medals for enduring my machinations for so long.)

Hey, while I'm here, everyone have another post!

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 252*_
*Evacuation*

Ernie strains, reaching as far as he can, but still Snokas’s outstretched hand is beyond his reach.

“Sorry, Snokas!” he thinks, just before using his ring of _dimension door_ to escape.   Snokas tries to wriggle free from the grasping tentacle but it holds him tight.  “This sucks,” he thinks to the others.  

Ernie reappears where he expects – still right next to the Trunk.  Once he has recovered from the _dimension door_ he starts hacking away again, but luck is not with him.  Beryn Sur, the dancing blade, gets stuck in the Trunk’s flesh.  Then one of the Trunk’s cilia pushes the sword even deeper into the main mass, until it’s completely enveloped by the monstrosity’s rubbery flesh.  

“Give me back my sword!” shouts Ernie, but it’s clearly going to take some doing.  Does he have the time?  Step’s light continues to fade, and the green glow forming in the center of the Trunk gets brighter.  

Kiro pegs the one remaining animated body – the high-up armored one that’s been casting _ice storms_ – with a _searing light_.  Morningstar follows that with a _flame strike_ that catches the body as well as the remaining Mass.  While the Mass is still relatively healthy, the body is finally damaged enough that it slides off its tentacle and falls seventy feet to the ground.   There is nothing now between the entire assemblage of adventurers and the Trunk.  

Kibi casts _hold monster_ on the Trunk, which of course has no effect.  The same can be said for his large earth elemental, which has been beating fruitlessly at the Trunk since its arrival.   Kibi glances up at the bobbing Mass at the top of Aravis’s _reverse gravity_, and has an idea that he _knows_ the elemental is not going to like.

“See that tentacly thing in the air?” he says to it.  “Move underneath it.”

The elemental doesn’t understand, but it does as it’s told.   It starts to fall upward.

“I’m losing contact with the ground!” it roars in a panic, and thanks to their recently-bought translator discs, everyone understands its cry of terror.   “Heeeeeellllllp meeeeeeee!”

“I’m sorry!” shouts Kibi.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”  It’s a hard thing to do to an earth elemental, but it does what he hoped.  Six thousand pounds of rock essentially fall onto the Mass, seventy feet in the air.   Kibi feels terribly guilty and expects Scree to take him to task, but his Familiar merely comments, “hard times call for desperate measures.”  The Mass is injured, but is still alive and bobbing like a cork along with the elemental.

As the green glow starts to shine brightly from within the Trunk, Aravis nails it with a _disintegrate_ spell.  In return, the still-alive Mass activates its runes, and for the second time a long thick tentacle bursts out of Aravis – from his shoulder this time.   Aravis screams in pain, and the tentacle immediately starts to slam his head.  

The rest of the party doesn’t have much time for sympathy.   From deep inside the trunk the green glow grows a hundred times brighter, filling the cavern with a burst of sickly light that contests with the dying radiance of One Certain Step.   A wave of revulsion sweeps over them, and tentacles burst forth out of Ernie, Snokas, Ox, Sagiro and Kibi.  (Snokas’s is particularly gruesome, as it’s coming out of the side of his neck.)  Their screams of pain and terror fill the cavern, even as the greenish light dims and fades out.  

Despite his dissembling, Ox is pretty powerful spellcaster.  He’s honed his craft for years, working as a “troubleshooter” for his barony back home.  He’s never been in as dire a strait as the one he’s in now, but if there’s one thing he’s learned over the years, it’s how to concentrate on spellcasting even in some harrowing situations.  Now, granted, he’s never tried to cast while a huge tentacle, growing out of his own back, was whipsawing back and forth and slapping at his head...

He concentrates furiously, and somehow keeps his hands moving in the proper intricate patterns to cast _chain lightning_.  The Trunk is his main target, and almost all of his friends’ (plus his own) new tentacles are his secondary targets.  (Only Kibi is out of range.)  Electricity crackles around the cavern, and when it’s finished... all the tentacles are badly damaged but still attached to their hosts.  Ox wants to cry.

Dranko decides it’s time to try something new.  For months now he has carried around a magical crown that, according to an _identify_ spell, allows him to cast something called _paroxysms of fire_.  He has no idea what that spell does, or how dangerous it might be, and it’s possible he could make things worse.  But, really, how much worse can things _get_ right now?

He pulls out the crown and deftly places it on his head.  He concentrates on casting its spell,  targeting the Trunk.  One of the rubies on the crown flares red for a second before becoming a bead of worthless glass, and there is an answering flare from deep in the Trunk’s mass.   Dranko holds his breath.   Then, as if he’s set off a fire-geyser machine inside its body, the Trunk starts belching jets of flame out of its bulk.  These jets damage everyone indiscriminately, and while the severity is not great, the wounded tentacles crisp and fall out of their hosts.  Never has such a cheer gone up from people whose ally has just inflicted fire damage upon them.   Seeing that Kibi is now the only one afflicted, Yoba strides over to him and lops off his tentacle just as she had done for Aravis.   

As the light grows ever more dim, the Company now brings all of their remaining firepower to bear on the Trunk.  More spells and weapons rip into its flesh.  A _chain lightning_ causes it to drop Snokas, but another of the Trunk's tentacles wraps around Grey Wolf and holds him fast.   Ernie carves his way toward _Beryn Sur_, determined to get his weapon back.  Morningstar activates the _daylight_ power of her shield, but it’s immediately stifled and extinguished.  There’s still enough light left from Step to see, but at the rate it’s fading, they have less than a minute before they’ll be back in utter darkness and at the mercy of Cleaners..

Kibi casts his last  _lightning bolt_ at the Trunk, and the whole length of it shivers and shakes.  From the floor and the ceiling there is a now sound, frighteningly loud, of grinding and groaning stone.   Many of the hundreds of smaller tentacles start pulling themselves back into the walls, ceiling and floors.  

“Keep going!” cries Kibi.

Aravis fires off another _chain lightning_, targeting the spot where Ernie has been digging for his sword.  There’s a shower of gore, and Ernie hears a _tink_ as Beryn Sur lands on the stone somewhere behind him.  As he turns to retrieve it, the entire Trunk quivers again, and then _shifts upward_ about fifteen feet, sliding out of the floor and into the ceiling.  Grey Wolf, still grappled, is carried upward as well.   He struggles and squirms but can’t break free.  

“We’ve got to save Grey Wolf!” Ernie screams.  Grey Wolf couldn’t agree more.  The Trunk continues to slide upward, pouring itself out of the ground and sliding into the ceiling, a colossal snake that’s decided it’s had enough.   The sound of tortured stone fills the cavern even as the last of Step’s light is fading away.    Grey Wolf watches the ground recede beneath him, then looks up to see that in seconds he’ll be smashed into the ceiling.  And that’s if he’s lucky – it’s also possible that he’ll be carried away to wherever the Trunk is going...

Ox fires a final _chain lightning_, albeit with only one target.  It blasts the tentacle holding Grey Wolf, and it twitches and unrolls.  Grey Wolf has never been happier to suffer the damage from a forty-foot fall.  

All around them the smaller tentacles are pulling themselves into the rock, retreating.  The Trunk coming up out of the floor seems endless; surely hundreds of feet of length have already slid by.  But at last it starts to taper, and then finally the end of a staggeringly huge tentacle comes up out of the ground.  It whips around the air for a second before getting pulled entirely up through the ceiling.  A final cilia grabs the remaining Mass on its way out, pulling the creature out with it.  Behind, in the ground, it has left a gaping hole into...

Snokas, Grey Wolf and Sagiro are the only ones who happen to look into that hole, down into an alien void crawling with unspeakable horrors.  All three go instantly and utterly mad, losing every mental faculty and starting to gibber  like infants.  

Kibi feels a surge of Earth Magic reverberate through the cavern.  Abruptly the holes left by the Trunk are filled in as the natural rock reasserts  itself.   Morningstar’s shield erupts into _daylight_, brightening the cave considerably.  The Way, no longer contained by the Trunk, blazes with blue energy many times more bright than any other Way they’ve seen.  The horrible fear that has been beating against the _heroes’ feast_ is gone.  And amazingly, only One Certain Step did not survive the ordeal.   And speaking of the departed paladin, Dranko finds himself standing almost on top of Step’s armor.  He squats to examine it, and sees that beneath the twisted metal plates, miraculously undisturbed by the tentacles and the chaotic melee, is a pile of ash.

Ernie rushes over to make sure Yoba is okay.   Both of the them are covered in wounds and splattered with gore.   Yoba reaches out and tenderly wipes a spot of ichor from Ernie’s brow.

“Is your life always like this, Ernest?” she asks, trembling.

“No,” says Ernie, smiling.  “Sometimes it’s interesting.”

...to be continued...


----------



## Fajitas

Wowzers.  And it's not over yet?  Sheesh, you know how to make a party work for their XP.

Out of curiosity, how much did the players know about the background with Fgogl et al?  Was that info they had at the time, something they found out later, or something that they still don't know in-character but was just added as special treat for us readers?


----------



## Micah

lots of updates!


----------



## Uzumaki

You guys should do a theretical run through that again, only this starting with Step alive, and see if you could do it without Step's light. Just, ya know, to see.


----------



## Sagiro

Fajitas said:
			
		

> Wowzers.  And it's not over yet?  Sheesh, you know how to make a party work for their XP.
> 
> Out of curiosity, how much did the players know about the background with Fgogl et al?  Was that info they had at the time, something they found out later, or something that they still don't know in-character but was just added as special treat for us readers?



They knew nothing about Fgogl.  Consider it a special bonus extra for the readers (including my players), just like the background bits on Srapa and Tapheon that have come before.   I think it's fun to write up this sort of thing, once I'm confident I won't be spoiling anything for the players.  

-Sagiro


----------



## shilsen

So how long did that fight last? Sounds like it went for multiple minutes, which is rare by D&D standards, esp. at such high levels.


----------



## Fajitas

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Consider it a special bonus extra for the readers (including my players), just like the background bits on Srapa and Tapheon that have come before.   I think it's fun to write up this sort of thing, once I'm confident I won't be spoiling anything for the players.



Oh, I quite agree, both as a pseudo-SH writer, and as a reader.  It's great to get those kinds of background bits and pieces.  It's like having the special edition DVD of the game.



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> They knew nothing about Fgogl.



Interesting.  Now I'm really curious how this played out from the players' perspective.  What kind of understanding did they have about what was going on?  At that point, were they still thinking that the Cleaners were somehow part of the "proper" functioning of Het Branoi, as opposed to some external, invasive force?  Was it clear to them that the room was linked to the Cleaners at all, or did it just seem like a random room full of tentacles?  Did they have any idea why the Cleaners were there?

Just trying to get a glimpse of the original theatrical experience.


----------



## Artoomis

Phenomenal.

Long-time lurker here,  finally had to break my silence and just let you know that I've been reading and loving it for a long time.  Thanks for doing this!


----------



## Sagiro

Fajitas said:
			
		

> ...Interesting.  Now I'm really curious how this played out from the players' perspective.  What kind of understanding did they have about what was going on?  At that point, were they still thinking that the Cleaners were somehow part of the "proper" functioning of Het Branoi, as opposed to some external, invasive force?  Was it clear to them that the room was linked to the Cleaners at all, or did it just seem like a random room full of tentacles?  Did they have any idea why the Cleaners were there?
> 
> Just trying to get a glimpse of the original theatrical experience.



Those are all excellent questions, and for the most part I don't know the answers.   The only thing I'm pretty sure the players knew, was that the tentacles in the "Lightless Room" were of the same ilk as the Cleaners.  Other than that, I have no idea what the players thought was going on in there, or _why_ there were Cleaners, or what the connection was between the Far Realms and Het Branoi.   There are some clues in the recorded writings of Seven Dark Words, as transcribed by the Solfar, but I don't know how much the players picked up on.

Maybe some of my players will post here and answer your questions.  

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

I'm afraid we didn't think too much about the metaphysics of it.  It was a great big evil thing from beyond the border of madness, and it was between us and the way out.  Pretty much, killing it was a much higher priority than figuring out its planar mechanics.

That said, the backstory is cool.

I had great fun with this combat, actually.  Ernie was buffed up with all the Clerical buffing spells and had three swords going.  For the first time possibly ever Ernie was really effective in combat, doing 90-100+ points of damage every round.  His BAB was something like 32!  And he was over by the trunk, so missed all the animated bodies/tentacle badness happening elsewhere.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

How pleasant to be sick for a few days, enough not to want to touch a computer, and come back to three updates like this.

GW


----------



## Sagiro

Uzumaki, if the Company had gone into the Lightless Room without Step's illumination, it would have taken about 2 or 3 rounds for the hundreds of tentacles to pull them all apart.   Maybe 4 for Dranko, who had a ridiculous HP total going in.

Artoomis, it always goes to my head when a lurker de-lurks to pay a compliment to the Story Hour.  Thanks!  

As KidC mentioned, the Company was absurdly buffed going into this fight.   Every PC had at least half a dozen magic effects augmenting his or her abilities.  And a good thing, too!  For the record, the Masses had 476 HP each, and the Trunk had over 900! 

-Sagiro


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

No summoning of far realms creatures in your campaign.

GW


----------



## Piratecat

Fajitas said:
			
		

> What kind of understanding did they have about what was going on?  At that point, were they still thinking that the Cleaners were somehow part of the "proper" functioning of Het Branoi, as opposed to some external, invasive force?  Was it clear to them that the room was linked to the Cleaners at all, or did it just seem like a random room full of tentacles?  Did they have any idea why the Cleaners were there?




Oh, we knew it wasn't a random room full of big tentacles. We weren't quite sure _what_ it was. I think if we had known about Fgogl at the time, it would have been even scarier than it was; even so, we were terrified and armed for bear.  Eye-of-Moirel-esque crystal bears, at least; we thought that there was something horrible back there that was infected by an eye of Moirel, and because of the tentacles we thought it might be a cleaner itself.

It was fun watching a 6' tall Ernie kicking tentacular butt. In comparison I'm not sure I did any damage whatsoever in the fight; Dranko was on healing duty for a change, and never landed a single attack that I remember.

We all thought the blue glow was an eye itself.  You should have heard us groan when we found out it was a portal!


----------



## Plane Sailing

Piratecat said:
			
		

> It was fun watching a 6' tall Ernie kicking tentacular butt.




For some reason a 6' tall halfling seems.... well, _wrong _


----------



## KidCthulhu

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> For some reason a 6' tall halfling seems.... well, _wrong _




Yeah, it felt wrong to me for a little while.  But then I opened up the can of whup a**, "NOW WITH 50% MORE WHUP" and I forgot all about the wrong.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Yeah, it felt wrong to me for a little while.  But then I opened up the can of whup a**, "NOW WITH 50% MORE WHUP" and I forgot all about the wrong.




How can something so right, be wrong?

GW


----------



## Fade

I have a technical question which I hope Ernie (or perhaps Dranko) will be able to help me with: When faced with a 100' tentacle, how does one go about locating the butt in order to kick it? Since it lacks a spine as such, the usual method of following this down to the base is ineffective.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Fade said:
			
		

> I have a technical question which I hope Ernie (or perhaps Dranko) will be able to help me with: When faced with a 100' tentacle, how does one go about locating the butt in order to kick it?




My tried and true method is just to kick everything, and eventually you'll find the butt.  Although usually by that time the point is moot (and often squishy).


----------



## el-remmen

While not as nasty (or dramatic) as Fgogl and its offspring/minions, my campaign recently featured interdimensional tentacles coming through tears in the fabric of reality and the veils between planes to attack the party. . .

Funny how when some sto. . . uh, I mean, borrowed ideas are incorporated into a game they sometimes lead to a similar series of events or ideas for encounters even when you didn't know what direction the source was originally going in. . .   

Anyway, great great great great stuff as usual, Dorian, caps off to you!


----------



## Everett

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Dorian, caps off to you!





Who's Dorian?


----------



## the Jester

Sagiro has the best real name ever, Dorian Hart. 

Wow, the whole "tentacle-erupting-from-your-own-body-to-attack-you" thing reminds me of one of the spells my epic alienist has created, _Yolanda's emergence of the pseudonatural aspect._  Good times!


----------



## Plane Sailing

Everett said:
			
		

> Who's Dorian?




Don't you remember the story about the person who became more and more ratbastardly, and while his appearance didn't change his portrait in the attic became so evil and twisted that all who looked upon it went insane?


----------



## Piratecat

Everett said:
			
		

> Who's Dorian?




Dorian Hart, man of mystery (and rat-bastard DM.)


----------



## Len

the Jester said:
			
		

> Wow, the whole "tentacle-erupting-from-your-own-body-to-attack-you" thing reminds me of one of the spells my epic alienist has created, _Yolanda's emergence of the pseudonatural aspect._  Good times!



It reminds me of Evan's Spiked Tentacles of Forced Intrusion.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Len said:
			
		

> It reminds me of Evan's Spiked Tentacles of Forced Intrusion.




Ah, gotta love OOTS.  The next one, #21, is one of my all time favorite comic strips...

"I'm not comfortable being grappled there"....lol


----------



## Everett

Plane Sailing said:
			
		

> Don't you remember the story about the person who became more and more ratbastardly, and while his appearance didn't change his portrait in the attic became so evil and twisted that all who looked upon it went insane?





Yes, and I remember the movie adaptation where Nazis riddled him with machine gun fire and he didn't fall...


----------



## energy_One

Now seems an excellent time to take the time and ask... how often, in more recent times, have Dranko, Morningstar, and Ernie used their dream-vision granted abilities (for example, Dranko's scar-on-the-back-of-the-hand at-range healing ability)?


----------



## Everett

Recently... myself, I can't remember any instances at all.  Morningstar once a couple dozen runs ago happened on something that "looked like" Ava Dormo, but specifics...?  And I'm not really sure what abilities the others have.


----------



## Fimmtiu

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Dorian Hart, man of mystery (and rat-bastard DM.)



You must be awfully pleased with the Thief reference in the DMG, then.


----------



## Gryff

Oh wow, Sagiro helped make Terra Nova, one of my alltime favourite games  
Loved the proper continuous laser beams in the suits.

Come to think of it, the list of credited games almost looks like my favourites list, except for Flight unlimited and Thief II.

No, this is not a bump... why do you ask?


----------



## KidCthulhu

Gryff said:
			
		

> Oh wow, Sagiro helped make Terra Nova, one of my alltime favourite games
> Loved the proper continuous laser beams in the suits.
> 
> Come to think of it, the list of credited games almost looks like my favourites list, except for Flight unlimited and Thief II.
> 
> No, this is not a bump... why do you ask?




Thanks, Gryff.  As another person who worked on TN, I want to thank all 43 of you who bought and loved the game.  Sagiro, BlackJack and I had fun working on it.  I think.  There was a lot of sleep deprevation and rice krispey treats mixed in there, so my memory gets fuzzy.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Ok, here is a Wiki I found, which lists the names of some of the employees of LGS/LGT/Ion - Lets see if we can figure out whos who from the DoD group.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Looking_Glass_Studios

Let us know if we get it.

BTW System Shock 1 & 2, and all the Theif titles are amongst my favorate PC games of all time, so in case it hasn't been said recently - You guys rock!, thank you.


----------



## Piratecat

> You must be awfully pleased with the Thief reference in the DMG, then.



Eh?  Page #?

Jacky, six of the people listed in the wiki are current or former members of my game.  

EnergyOne, Dranko uses his distance healing ability quite often. It's saved the lives of numerous party members, including Snokas and (ironically) One Certain Step. Ernie uses his strength ability at times; it takes a standard action to activate, so it's often a question of how much time he has.


----------



## wedgeski

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Jacky, six of the people listed in the wiki are current or former members of my game.




 Holy. Crap. I knew Sagiro had been involved with LG but had refrained from making a point of it... but SIX PLAYERS??!! That's awesome. The tales that could be told around that table...


----------



## energy_One

wedgeski said:
			
		

> Holy. Crap. I knew Sagiro had been involved with LG but had refrained from making a point of it... but SIX PLAYERS??!! That's awesome. The tales that could be told around that table...




Well, really, it's enough for me just to _hear_ about Looking Glass. The first two Thief games were my favorites of all time.


----------



## porthos

*The Name Game*

Just got caught up (again) with the SH. Simply mahvalous.

My wife and I (both faithful readers) would like one of the gang to settle a curiosity (disagrement being too strong a word).

Is it ah-RA-vis or AIR-a-vis? Or a-RAH-vis for that matter.

Thanks.


----------



## Sagiro

porthos said:
			
		

> ...Is it ah-RA-vis or AIR-a-vis? Or a-RAH-vis for that matter.
> 
> Thanks.



It's AHR-a-vis, where the "AHR" rhymes with the first syllable of "Harry."

Porthos, I'm glad you're enjoying the story!  One of these days, I should get off my butt and transcribe/write/post the next installment or two, in which the great saga of Het Branoi will come to a conclusion.  Wait 'til you see what Aravis and Ernie do when [details redacted].  

-Sagiro


----------



## the Jester

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Porthos, I'm glad you're enjoying the story!  One of these days, I should get off my butt and transcribe/write/post the next installment or two, in which the great saga of Het Branoi will come to a conclusion.  Wait 'til you see what Aravis and Ernie do when [details redacted].
> 
> -Sagiro




Sagiro, you're a damn cruel tease.


----------



## Fimmtiu

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Eh?  Page #?




Alas, I haven't the books handy right now. It's in the section on adjudicating player alignments, where the example they give for an alignment conflict is a purely hypothetical TN rogue named Garrett.


----------



## coyote6

Bob browses the Wiki. Sean Barrett? Is that the same Sean Barrett that used to run GURPSnet-l, two-and-a-half eons ago?


----------



## Tamlyn

Fimmtiu said:
			
		

> Alas, I haven't the books handy right now. It's in the section on adjudicating player alignments, where the example they give for an alignment conflict is a purely hypothetical TN rogue named Garrett.




Page 134.


----------



## Len

Fimmtiu said:
			
		

> Alas, I haven't the books handy right now. It's in the section on adjudicating player alignments, where the example they give for an alignment conflict is a purely hypothetical TN rogue named Garrett.



DMG p. 134

_"I've always equated 'feelings' with 'getting caught...they both get in the way of my money."_


----------



## thatdarncat

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Wait 'til you see what Aravis and Ernie do when forced to *dance a polka.*



Am I close?


----------



## Blackjack

coyote6 said:
			
		

> Bob browses the Wiki. Sean Barrett? Is that the same Sean Barrett that used to run GURPSnet-l, two-and-a-half eons ago?




Alas, no.


----------



## Eridanis

Sagiro -

After all these years, I'm _finally_ reading your Story Hour (thanks to StevenAC's wonderful pdfs and time on a commuter train to read them).

Just finished the Crosser's Maze section, and I have to say it was absolutely breathtaking and mind-blowing. Now, _that's_ epic gaming, no matter what the character levels are!

I'm just glad that I have lots more to read and enjoy. On to session 111...


----------



## energy_One

Sometimes I feel such as to _pretend_ that I just finished reading all of the Story Hour up to a certain point, just to see it to the top of the list again.

I must remind myself, however, that lying is wrong; also, that that will not bring an update any sooner.

So I'd like to take this time to make a post that isn't _completely_ spurious. To all of those players in the Charagan Campaign, you players of them Heroes of the Kalkas Peaks, great job. Sagiro is apparently a mastermind of a DM, and the respect I have for him creatively is certainly magnified by knowing he worked for Looking Glass Studios, but it isn't just him and his creativity that has made this campaign what it is.

From reading this Story Hour, it's plain to see that this game isn't just blessed with an extraordinary DM painting an extraordinary story, but a fantastically creative and intelligent group of players, as well.

Good job! Players of your caliber are hard to come by, and as I'm sure he is, Sagiro should be proud.


----------



## Everett

Any updates in the offing here?


----------



## Sagiro

Sorry for the delay...busy life, basically.  Speaking of which, our daughter just passed her 6 month checkup with flying colors.  She's a chubby, happy amazon who loves pulling daddy's chest hair (Ow! Ow ow ow!) and smiling at pretty much everyone.

Eridanis, I'm always glad to welcome a new reader!  (StevenAC has probably earned me many readers by providing such a great format.)  I think the Crosser's Maze is still my favorite extended adventure.  It's neck and neck, I think, with the Battle of Verdshane, which you may have already read by now.  

And energy_One, you're absolutely right.  I have the best players ever.  I don't know how on earth I got so lucky, but I ain't complainin'!  

Hey, while I'm here, have an update.  I found it in the offing.  


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 253*_
*The Rotunda*

“I think this qualifies as one of the worst thing that’s ever happened to us,” says Ernie, looking around the cavern at the dozens of dead bodies.   

“You charged right at it!” says Yoba, admiration unmistakable in her voice.  “You were so brave, and you drove it away.”   She looks up at him more literally than usual, as he’s been _enlarged_ for the combat.  “You’re larger than life,” she adds, grinning.

Ernie blushes, and Dranko bites his tongue, but Yoba’s continued gushing is interrupted by a rumbling cry of terror.

“GET ME DOWN FROM HERE!” 

Kibi’s earth elemental is still suspended at the top of Aravis’s _reverse gravity_.   It’s the only time the poor creature has ever been separated from the ground, and it’s not taking it well.  Kibi does the merciful thing and dismisses it.

While Ernie casts a _healing circle_ on the assembled heroes, Dranko can’t help but grin himself.  “Damn, we’re good!” he exclaims.  


* *


There follows a period of rejoicing and healing, and a great deal of discussion about whether they should go through the bright blue Way right now, or wait until the next day.  On the one hand, they’re pretty tapped from the fight, and who knows what further perils await on the other side?  On the other hand, any force that might oppose them will have an extra day to prepare defenses beyond the Way, and also there’s the lingering fear that the Cleaners might come back.   The first hand wins, in particular because while Morningstar is able to _heal_ Grey Wolf, Sagiro and Snokas are still blibberingly insane, and she won’t be able to fix their poor brains until tomorrow.  

“What do you think is on the other side of that Way?” asks Jack.

“We think we’ll find the object that’s powering the Slices,” answers Dranko.  “That’s my guess.”

“And if you do...whatever it is you came to do, what will happen?”

“We’ll all go home,” says Kibi.

“All the Slices should go back where they came from,” adds Aravis.

“If you’re about to fix things,” says Ox, “I’d like to try to get back to my home Slice.  And someone ought to go back to Bakersfield and warn people of what might happen.”

Kiro, Ox and Jack all decide they ought to get a head start now.  

“I know how things work, and that there are spells that take people from plane to plane,” says Jack.  “When you get out of this, I’ll get someone to cast _sending_, and we’ll get together then and divvy up the stuff.”

Kiro and Ox are likewise content with this sort of arrangement.  The three of them leave through the Way in, headed back to Bakersfield and perhaps beyond.  Only Yoba stays.

“Would you mind if I went with you?” she asks Ernie.

“Please!  But... what about your goblins?  Don’t you need to go back to your people?”

“You can _plane shift_ me back, right?” says Yoba.  “I want to see this through to the end.”

“I’d like nothing better,” says Ernie, smiling at the thought.


* *

The Company spends the rest of the day looting corpses.    

It’s gruesome work, picking through rotting remains searching for valuables and magic items, but Dranko and Flicker are more than up for the task, making up for their companions' flagging enthusiasm for the job.  The others help move the bodies to a far end of the cavern, since they intend to stay the night here.  (No one wants to risk coming back to find that the Cleaners have unexpectedly returned; if there’s any sign of encroaching tentacles, the plan is to leap through the Way and take their chances with whatever they find.)

By the time the Company grows tired and ready for sleep, Dranko and Flicker have piled up several dozen items, a heap of potions, scrolls, rings, weapons, armor, wands, staves, and assorted wondrous items.  Flicker has also amassed a impressively varied coin collection which he guesses is worth in excess of three thousand gold pieces, and probably much more to a collector. 

Finally, before bed, they hold a short memorial service for the departed One Certain Step.   Dranko has collected Step’s ashes, to be returned to the Church of Kemma when they get the chance.   The Company is silent and exhausted, each reliving fond memories of Step’s time with them, and wondering if they really are but one Way removed from bringing Het Branoi to an overdue end.


* *


The next “day” finds the Company standing ready.  No Cleaners or other foul things have appeared during the watches, and all assembled are well energized by Morningstar’s _heroes’ feast_.  Prep spells have been cast, guesses have been made, prayers uttered, and Sagiro and Snokas have been _healed_ back to sanity.  Now they are poised in front of a rippling, pulsing Way, their faces bathed in its garish blue glow.

As one, they go through.  The transit time from this Slice to the next is shorter than normal, as if the structure of Het Branoi is eager to carry them.   A second later the Company emerges.

Aravis, his keen intellect and senses augmented with _greater arcane sight_, takes in a breathtaking scene in just a handful of seconds.   He stands in a large round stone chamber, some eighty feet across and familiar on two accounts.  For one, the stone pattern on the walls is the blue-diamond slate that he has seen several times throughout their journey in Het Branoi.  For another, the floor is covered with black circles, lines, scrawled formulae and complex diagrams, in a manner immediately reminiscent of Mokad’s ritual room in Kallor.  

_The Rotunda_, he thinks.

He himself stands near one edge of the room, a bright blue Way at his back, and near the opposite edge stands the Pillar.  The Pillar is what immediately draws his attention.  It is a tall cylindrical column, stacked alternately with rings of obsidian and transparent crystal.  A black liquid moves about beneath the surface of the crystal sections, as if dark oil is trapped between two pressed sheets of glass and is oozing like a living Rorschach blot.  

Each stacked ring is a foot tall, and there are half a dozen each of black stone and clear crystal, making the entire Pillar twelve feet high.  Shining out from the topmost clear section is a blazing blue light, as if from small azure star, and out from this light strands of energy are shooting in a constant barrage of arcing zigzags.    Some of these energy ropes smash into the walls, floor, and ceiling of the room, but one halts in mid-air, as if it’s struck an invisible blockage..  A blue Way slides open at the end of that energy strand.  Aravis thinks he can see a world through the Way – a field, some nearby trees – and then the Way slides shut, vanishing as if into an invisible slot, just as did the Way that brought them into Hey Branoi in the first place.  

He has witnessed the birth of a Slice.

Aravis takes in all of this over the course of five seconds, during which time he is increasingly aware that some malign force is hammering on his psyche.   For from the Pillar a great Evil is emanating, an Evil the likes of which he has never before felt.  It is crushing in its intensity, a pure physical malice that would make the likes of Lord Tapheon seem petty by comparison.   He turns to Dranko who stands next to him, and the half-orc is shielding his eyes from it as if it’s a bright sun that burns.   Dranko has felt this before, and in a similar place.  In Mokad’s lair, there was a book that radiated Evil like this.   Dranko was knocked out just from its presence.  

Aravis turns to the rest of the Company, but only Dranko and Sagiro (warded with a _protection from evil_ spell before coming here) are standing.  The rest of the Company is sprawled on the stone floor, unconscious.  

...to be continued...


----------



## Fimmtiu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> The rest of the Company is sprawled on the stone floor, unconscious.




Oh, bloody hells. Was this automatic, or did everyone without the PFE just fail a tough Will save? Nice suspenseful way to start a fight...


----------



## wedgeski

Okay, cliffhangers should be officially banned in Sagiro's SH. Votes?


----------



## Ashrum the Black

Nah, I like them. The build character!   

-Ashrum


----------



## shilsen

Ashrum the Black said:
			
		

> Nah, I like them. The build character!
> 
> -Ashrum



 If you mean that they kill PCs and require players to build more characters, then yes


----------



## Sagiro

Fimmtiu said:
			
		

> Oh, bloody hells. Was this automatic, or did everyone without the PFE just fail a tough Will save? Nice suspenseful way to start a fight...



No, it wasn't automatic.  Everyone was permitted a Fortitude Save, but it was a tough one, and only Dranko and Aravis made it.  Sagiro Emberleaf was okay because the party had cast _protection from evil_ on him, afraid that he'd be more susceptible to having his mind taken over by another Eye of Moirel.

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

Yeah, it couldn't have been a will save, which some of the party might have CHANCE of making .  Had to be Fortitude.  grumble, grumble, grumble


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Yeah, it couldn't have been a will save, which some of the party might have CHANCE of making .  Had to be Fortitude.




You just need to toughen up Ernie's doughy interior.  I recommend a diet of whisky and habañero peppers.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Mmmmm Habbies, there's a rib place in town that makes an excellent Habenero barbeque sauce that doesn't sacrifice flavor for the heat.  Robbs Ribbs.  Gonna have to go there for lunch tomorrow.

Thanks,

GW


----------



## Fimmtiu

Kid Charlemagne said:
			
		

> You just need to toughen up Ernie's doughy interior.  I recommend a diet of whisky and habañero peppers.




I can see it now: a rumpled halfling in a battered hat leans against a lamp-post, waving a bottle and talking like Tom Waits... "Don't have a drinkin' problem, 'cept when I can't get a drink..."


----------



## Everett

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Eridanis, I'm always glad to welcome a new reader!  (StevenAC has probably earned me many readers by providing such a great format.)  I think the Crosser's Maze is still my favorite extended adventure.  It's neck and neck, I think, with the Battle of Verdshane, which you may have already read by now.





Observation: the Crosser's Maze is easy to love; it's such a neato... thing.


----------



## Plane Sailing

Sagiro said:
			
		

> No, it wasn't automatic.  Everyone was permitted a Fortitude Save, but it was a tough one, and only Dranko and *Aravis *made it.




_Aravis?_ The _wizard?_. All those clerics and fighting types are going to have some living-down to do!


----------



## Enkhidu

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Yeah, it couldn't have been a will save, which some of the party might have CHANCE of making .  Had to be Fortitude.  grumble, grumble, grumble




Says the halfing fighter/cleric. Mmmmm... this irony is delicious, don't you agree?


----------



## TwinBahamut

My brother and I just finshed spending the last two weeks reading the whole story of the Abernathy's Company to date. And, amusingly enough, it happens to be the first Story Hour we have ever read on these boards...

I have to applaud eveything you have done here Sagiro. This story is incredible, and you are one awesome DM. There are too many quality moments in the story to even list.

Actually, this Story Hour has inspired me to pick Dming a small campaign. It has been awile since I had so many ideas for a campaign, and every time I read your Story Hour I get more insipration (even inspiration not directly tied to what happens in your campaign, but I do borrow a _few_ ideas).

But what rotten luck to finally catch up at _this_ kind of cliffhanger... Argh!

I am eagerly looking forward to the next chapter.


----------



## Fade

Sagiro said:
			
		

> No, it wasn't automatic.  Everyone was permitted a Fortitude Save, but it was a tough one, and only Dranko and Aravis made it.  Sagiro Emberleaf was okay because the party had cast _protection from evil_ on him, afraid that he'd be more susceptible to having his mind taken over by another Eye of Moirel.
> 
> -Sagiro




At 2000gp a pop, Amulets of permanent _Protection from Evil_ look like they would be a very wise future investment for the party. Prevents mind control, and provides a bonus to AC on the side.


----------



## Victim

Fade said:
			
		

> At 2000gp a pop, Amulets of permanent _Protection from Evil_ look like they would be a very wise future investment for the party. Prevents mind control, and provides a bonus to AC on the side.




Yeah, so do Shield or True Strike items.     Continous items using spells that grant bonuses should be priced with the bonus formulae, not as spell effects.


----------



## Seule

Victim said:
			
		

> Yeah, so do Shield or True Strike items.     Continous items using spells that grant bonuses should be priced with the bonus formulae, not as spell effects.




Exactly.  The effect here is, from the SRD:


			
				SRD said:
			
		

> This spell wards a creature from attacks by evil creatures, from mental control, and from summoned creatures. It creates a magical barrier around the subject at a distance of 1 foot. The barrier moves with the subject and has three major effects.
> First, the subject gains a +2 deflection bonus to AC and a +2 resistance bonus on saves. Both these bonuses apply against attacks made or effects created by evil creatures.
> Second, the barrier blocks any attempt to possess the warded creature (by a magic jar attack, for example) or to exercise mental control over the creature (including enchantment (charm) effects and enchantment (compulsion) effects that grant the caster ongoing control over the subject, such as dominate person). The protection does not prevent such effects from targeting the protected creature, but it suppresses the effect for the duration of the protection from evil effect. If the protection from evil effect ends before the effect granting mental control does, the would-be controller would then be able to mentally command the controlled creature. Likewise, the barrier keeps out a possessing life force but does not expel one if it is in place before the spell is cast. This second effect works regardless of alignment.
> Third, the spell prevents bodily contact by summoned creatures. This causes the natural weapon attacks of such creatures to fail and the creatures to recoil if such attacks require touching the warded creature. Good summoned creatures are immune to this effect. The protection against contact by summoned creatures ends if the warded creature makes an attack against or tries to force the barrier against the blocked creature. Spell resistance can allow a creature to overcome this protection and touch the warded creature.



That's a lot of cool effects, notably 2 better AC and saves against many opponents, and immunity to an entire class of spells.  Much more valuable than 2k gold.  I'd price it at least 10 times higher, probably more.

  --Seule


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

TwinBahamut said:
			
		

> But what rotten luck to finally catch up at _this_ kind of cliffhanger... Argh!
> 
> I am eagerly looking forward to the next chapter.




That's not luck, he almost always ends on a cliffhanger


----------



## TwinBahamut

MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> That's not luck, he almost always ends on a cliffhanger



But not always on a cliffhanger right before the climactic final encounter of a very long and interesting plot arc...


----------



## Richard Rawen

*I'd almost agree*



			
				TwinBahamut said:
			
		

> But not always on a cliffhanger right before the climactic final encounter of a very long and interesting plot arc...




yet looking back ... and back and back and back   there Many times that Our Heroes (TM) have found themselves at the precipice of Epic Proportions only to have our exalted story teller decide to 'close the book for now... we'll pick up there next time'...
Oh the number of times I have uttered nonsensical frustrations!
Gah!  ERGH!  Ohhhhh!
still... here we are... not so much patiently waiting as Pavlovian drooling   

Oh, and lest anyone find this bit-o-rant approaching a <whine> let me simply say for the record:
I Love It!  
Blessings,
Richard
M < > <


----------



## el-remmen

Please sir, might we have some more. . .?


----------



## Sagiro

Sorry for the long delay.  Life has been very hectic lately, and with the baby waking so early every morning, I've had to cut back a bit on my late-night story-hour writing.  And, since that's when I do almost _all_ my writing... well, you can see how it is.

Of course, some of my free time has also been consumed with prep work for the ongoing game.  Oh, yes, it's now progressed far beyond where the Story Hour is now.  Just last night there was an epic battle against a true Boss-level opponent, and my players once again wrote a new page in the book of battle-tactics.   It was fantastically exciting, and you'll probably read about it a year from now, at the rate I'm going.     (Specifically, the following is part of run #172.  Last night's game was #185.  So, I'm 13 runs behind, and maybe I'm only half a year away.  Sigh.)

TwinBahamut, I'm delighted to hear I've moved you to run your own game.  My only piece of advice for you at this stage is:  make sure your that the kind of game your players want is the same as the kind of game you want to run.  That's about 70% of the battle right there.

As for the cliffhangers -- well, I'm afraid this installment won't make you any happier.


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 254*_
*Don’t touch it!  It’s evil!*

“Crap!” exclaims Dranko.   Scattered at his feet, the bodies of his friends lie bathed in harsh blue light.  Only a few feet away is the Way through which they’ve all just arrived, the brightest Way he’s ever seen, pulsing and rippling and buzzing faintly.  

Are his companions dead?  It’s not worth taking the time to find out.  Dranko casts _protection from evil_ on Morningstar, and her eyes snap open.  Her head throbs with ache.  Aravis, meanwhile, stands transfixed by the Pillar and the beams of energy firing out of it.  One of these smashes into a support pillar, sending a spray of ephemeral blue sparks cascading to the stone floor.   Beyond the Pillar, high on the balcony on the opposite side of the Rotunda, he thinks he sees something like a metal cage.  

Dranko quickly explains the situation to Morningstar, who takes her _gem of recall_ and sets about filling an empty spell slot with _magic circle of protection vs. evil_.   Even protected by Dranko’s spell she can feel the Evil from the Pillar washing over her.  While she spends a round getting her spell, Dranko tries to get a better look at the cage.  It’s some eighty feet away and obscured by the top of the Pillar, but with his sharp eyes he guesses that it’s gartine, and that it contains something stone, like a statue.  Hard to say.

Morningstar feels the desired spell pop into her head and hastily casts it.  Immediately the rest of the Company come awake, all with splitting headaches and feeling weakened and sluggish as they struggle to their feet.

*>> Only Dranko, Aravis and Sagiro were spared the CON drain.   Morningstar took 2 points, and the rest took 4 points.  And that CON was vanishing at 2 points per round!*

The newly-conscious take a few seconds to look around, absorbing the strange scene.  The blue strands of energy continue to surge from the pillar, crackling snakes that either smash into the stone features of the room, or stop short and create short-lived openings into freshly-birthed Ways.   It’s only a matter time, of course, before one of those energy beams flies into the midst of the Company.  

Specifically, it happens about ten seconds after they’ve stood up.

Grey Wolf is struck soundly in the chest by the energy ribbon.  He feels a sharp jolt, a blue light explodes behind his eyes, and the world goes black.   To the others, watching, Grey Wolf glows blue for a second and turns into a crystal blue statue, effectively petrified.  

“Holy Yondalla’s flapjacks!” exclaims Ernie.

Grey Wolf’s body starts to tilt, but the others catch him before he smashes on the floor.  They lower him gently to the ground.

Kibi immediately casts _wall of force_, and feels an exceptional surge of earth magic flow through his body.   Its source is the same as that of the Evil – the Pillar – but the earth magic doesn’t feel tainted.  His wall springs up about half way between the Company and the Pillar, and only a few seconds later an energy strand smashes into it.

Ernie casts _protection from evil_ on Dranko so that he can leave the group and investigate the balcony.  Dranko deftly wraps the end of the whip around a spoke of railing and hauls himself up.   The balcony runs the entire perimeter of the room, save for four gaps at the cardinal points where now-defunct magic lifts once carried people up and down.  There are desks up there, one about every fifteen feet, most of them long since smashed by errant energy beams from the Pillar.   Wooden debris is scattered on the stone floor, with scraps of parchment that flutter as he walks past.  He reaches down to examine one, and finds it has strange diagrams and formulae scrawled upon it.  On the wall more pieces of parchment are nailed into the stone, and these have more complex diagrams similar to those on the room’s floor.

With his _greater arcane sight_ Aravis can discern overwhelmingly strong earth magic ambient in the room, but it’s mixed with necromancy, enchantment, divination – indeed, almost every known type of magic is here, save for illusion and the magic of the Cleaners.  There are spells here aplenty, but none that he recognizes.

“It’s... frightening,” he says simply.

More _protection from evil_ spells are cast, to give the group a bit more tactical flexibility.   Morningstar looks about and idly scratches her head.

“Er... what are we supposed to _do_ here?” she asks of no one in particular.  

The only immediate answer is the sizzling sound of another energy beam striking Kibi’s wall.  It leaves a glowing blue spot that quickly fades.

“Aravis!” calls Dranko.  “There’s a whole bunch of charts and diagrams up here.  Want me to help you up to take a look at them?”

“Oh, _Aravis_ is so smart,” grumbles Kibi.  “_Aravis_ will figure it all out.  Let _Aravis_ see the diagrams.”

“Sorry Kibi,” says Dranko with a smirk.  “Look, you’re smart too.  So figure out a way to talk Aravis into solving our problems.”

Kibi snorts.

Dranko moves around the balcony toward the gartine cage.   He finds it large enough that he could stand inside of it, though he doesn’t open it for fear of traps.  it doesn’t quite block the balcony altogether.   Inside the gartine lattice is a stone pedestal atop which sits a tilted stone disc, like a lectern made of rock.   The disc is carved with patterns that exactly match the larger inlaid patterns on the floor of the Rotunda.   In these carved grooves is a clay-like gray substance, like a long-since congealed liquid.   On the floor of the cage is a beige ceramic pot filled with a similar sludgy substance. 

Dranko shares the details of his discovery with the others over a _telepathic bond_.   

“It’s probably dragon’s blood,” says Morningstar.  “Silver dragon blood.”

Beyond the cage and its pedestal, Dranko finds a particularly large piece of parchment nailed to the wall.   On it is drawn a strange map, which Dranko describes to the others.    From the description Aravis thinks it’s a diagram of the Abyss, depicting its multi-layered spiraling nature.  Dranko takes it from the wall, rolls it up, and stows it.   He instinctively ducks as a energy strand shoots from the Pillar and strikes the wall near his head, then motions for Flicker to come join him.

Flicker gets his own personal _protection from evil_ from Yoba, clambers up onto the balcony, and heads around to the far side taking the opposite route from Dranko.  En route he stops to pick something up.

“I’m glad we caught Grey Wolf before he fell and crashed,” he says, gulping.  “I think I found someone.”

Flicker holds up a broken-off blue crystal arm, mostly whole from the shoulder down, though with most of the fingers snapped.

“That’s awful!” exclaims Dranko.  “Grab me a piece.”

Flicker reaches down again, and tosses to Dranko half of the crystal head.

Down on the ground, Aravis and Kibi have been discussing ways to get the Eye out from the Pillar.  Kibi is leaning toward using a _stone shape_, while Aravis favors bisecting the Pillar with a _passwall_.   Both plans are potentially perilous, since they would probably release some of the oily black liquid that squirms through the Pillar’s surface.  Morningstar sits down and starts filling some of her empty spell slots with _break enchantment_ spells, hoping to restore Grey Wolf to flesh.

“Dranko, what’s up?” asks Flicker.

Dranko holds up the crystal half-head.  “I have the best collection of souvenirs from across the multiverse,” he muses out loud.  “Er, but what I wanted you for was to check this cage for traps.”

Flicker checks it out, but doesn’t think the gartine cage is even locked, let alone trapped.    Dranko opens the door and steps in to get a closer look at the pedestal and its tilted disc.   He digs some of the sludgy gray goop out of the grooves and sniffs it, but if it was once dragon blood, it might now as well be clay.   While he does this, Flicker sees something at the foot of the pedestal – a small black stone box.   Taking the box and the ceramic pot, Flicker and Dranko scramble down from the balcony and join the others.  Aravis examines the box with _arcane sight_ and learns that there are two spells on it:  _arcane lock_, and a potent abjuration that he’s never seen before.  Flicker doesn’t think it’s trapped, so Kibi casts _greater dispelling_ on it.  This breaks the _arcane lock_, but the abjuration remains. 

Wondering what to do next, Kibi concentrates hard on the Earth Magic that permeates the Rotunda, and in specific seeks an empathy with the trapped Eye of Moirel.   He thinks calming thoughts toward it, and even hums it a Dwarven lullaby.

Dranko looks at him askance.  “_That’s_ why I asked Aravis first...” he mutters.

But despite the half-orc’s skepticism, Kibi feels something, though he’s not sure what.  The Earth Magic starts to sharpen, almost as if it’s gaining tangency, and suddenly Kibi feels a sharp pang, like an emotion.    Frustration.  Frustration, and panic.

“We’re here to free you,” he says out loud.  “Don’t be afraid.”  

There’s a surge of earth magic that only he feels; it comes and goes in a flash.  


* *


Morningstar manages to restore Grey Wolf on the first try.  His crystalline form ripples quietly and becomes flesh again.  He takes an instinctive gasping breath, then looks around and wonders how everyone changed positions so quickly.  

“This was you,” says Dranko, holding up the piece of crystal head.  

“Ewww,” says Grey Wolf, grimacing.  

There’s both curiosity and trepidation about what’s in the black stone box.  Flicker carries it back up to the balcony and sets it on the edge where Aravis can see it from ground level.   Aravis then uses _mage hand_ to gently left the lid, peering at the box all the while with his _arcane sight_.

A great Evil wafts up from it, an Evil like that which emanates from the Pillar.  Aravis hastily closes the box again, and the Evil is contained.   They debate whether Ernie should try dispelling it, but it seems too risky.  Only Kibi is staunchly in favor of the idea.

“It’s the evil in this room that’s keeping the Eye trapped,” says Kibi imploringly.  “Anything that reduces the amount of evil in here, ought to help us set the Eye free.”

In response, he feels another surge of power and emotion, this time like anticipation.

“I think the Eye likes that idea,” adds Kibi.

“You’re talking to it?” exclaims Ernie.

“Well, no, not really.  I’m just getting flashes of emotions from it.”

To the Eye, Kibi thinks,  “how do we free you?”

He is answered by another flash of frustration.

So, Ernie casts _dispel evil_ and approaches the box, while Aravis _mage hands_ it open again.  But when Ernie gets within about ten feet of it, he finds himself unable to physically approach it, or even look straight at it.  

“Aravis, just close it!” he exclaims.  Aravis does.

“That’s why there’s a powerful abjuration on the box, clearly,” says Ernie.  “It’s to keep the Evil...contained.”


* *


In the end, they go with the _passwall_ plan.   Aravis walks to the edge of the _wall of force_ and peers around it.   From this closer vantage point he can tell that the Pillar is more complex that he first thought.  There are actually _two_ glass cylinders, each tall and hollow, with the first just a _tiny_ bit larger than the second in every dimension.  The smaller is nested inside the larger, and the black liquid is pressed in the thin space between the two.  The obsidian rings are inside the inner cylinder.  

“Ernie,” says Aravis.  “You’ve still got that _dispel evil_ prepped, right?  Be ready.”

Aravis points his staff and prepares to activate _passwall_, aimed to shear right through the Pillar about half way up its length.  That should expose the Eye, probably causing it to simply fall out and onto the ground.

The spell goes off.  Pressurized black liquid explodes out from the Pillar as it is suddenly exposed.  Some of it sprays against the _wall of force_, where it oozes down like dark mercury.   Some of it jets directy onto the floor, beading into little glistening droplets.

And some of it spurts directly back at Aravis.  He brings his hands to his spattered face, and screams, and screams.

...to be continued...


----------



## Funeris

Magnificent.  One of the great things about insomnia is being able to catch a...well...magnificent update 

Good work, Sagiro.  I'll try not to hold the cliffhanger against you 

~Fune


----------



## wedgeski

Great stuff. "Holy Yondalla's flapjacks." That one's a keeper.


----------



## KidCthulhu

wedgeski said:
			
		

> Great stuff. "Holy Yondalla's flapjacks." That one's a keeper.




Thanks.

But wait folks.  It gets worse.  Much, much worse.


----------



## Plane Sailing

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> But wait folks.  It gets worse.  Much, much worse.




Presumably you are not referring to an increasing verbal armoury of cakes and buns deployed by Ernie in front of the (hopefully unshocked) Yoba?


----------



## shilsen

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Thanks.
> 
> But wait folks.  It gets worse.  Much, much worse.



 Can't hardly wait. Not that we'd want anything to happen to your PCs of course. Really.


----------



## Micah

Well the good news is that as your little one gets older she'll sleep better giving you more writting time. The bad news is that point in time coincides with the dice grabbing, battlemap yanking, mini chewing, early toddlerhood which makes game sessions more difficult. So you may catch up. . . .  

Thanks for the update - always look forward to them!


----------



## thatdarncat

yay! happy birthday to me  second year in a row. Thanks Sagiro!


----------



## Zaruthustran

DM: you enter a room that is obviously, grossly, filled with magical energy. There's this fragile pillar-within-a-pillar, surrounded by evil black goo. There's a shattered crystal statue. There's a cage containing an mystical diagram and an odd congealed clue. And there's lots of arcane formulae floating around.

Butthead: Let's... break something.

Beavis: Yeah! Um, okay--I break the statue! 

DM: It's already broken. It's actually a crystal corpse.

Butthead: Like, a dead guy? Cool! I pick up his head and throw it at Beavis.

Beavis: What? No way!

Butthead: I gave you head.

Beavis: Huh huh.

Butthead: Huh huh.

DM: What do you do now? Look at the formulas, or the arcane diagrams?

Butthead: Uh.... "words, words" huh huh, "words"

Beavis: This sucks! Let's break something!

Butthead: What else can I smash?

DM: Well, the cage is made of metal. As for the pillars, the inner pillar is rock while the outer pillar is glass. An evil-looking liquid-

Beavis: He said glass! Smash the pillar, Butthead!

Butthead: Yeah.

DM: -it contains a really nasty-looking oil, and-

Butthead: I smash the pillar.

DM: ...okay, it explodes, and covers Beavis with burning evil goo.

Beavis: AHHHH! AHHHH!

Butthead: You're on... fire. Huh huh.

Beavis: AHHHH! huh huh AHHHHH! IT BURNS! huh huh

Butthead: huh huh. Burning is _cool_.

-z

PS: Not meant as an insult! This latest update just reminded me how often adventuring parties solve problems by busting things apart.


----------



## Enkhidu

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> ...This latest update just reminded me how often adventuring parties solve problems by busting things apart.




Brute force is always an answer. Not necessarly the correct one, mind you, but still.


----------



## Everett

wedgeski said:
			
		

> Great stuff. "Holy Yondalla's flapjacks." That one's a keeper.




He pulls it out for show on several an occasion.


----------



## Spatzimaus

Enkhidu said:
			
		

> Brute force is always an answer. Not necessarly the correct one, mind you, but still.




If brute force doesn't solve your problems, you're obviously just not using enough.


----------



## coyote6

Well, shiver me timbers, I be thinkin' it be time fer a bump.


----------



## LightPhoenix

By me dead parrot's beak, every time ye bump th' story, he be makin' a lad or lassie walk th' plank!


----------



## Everett

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> By me dead parrot's beak, every time ye bump th' story, he be makin' a lad or lassie walk th' plank!




Ah, but WHAT is by your dead parrot's beak?


----------



## Tamlyn

coyote6 said:
			
		

> Well, shiver me timbers, I be thinkin' it be time fer a bump.




Man, I can't believe I missed talk like a pirate day!


----------



## Duncan Haldane

*bump*

back to the first page with you!


----------



## Duncan Haldane

*bump* *bump*


----------



## el-remmen

Duncan Haldane said:
			
		

> *bump* *bump*




Dude, stop that!  Everytime I get an email alert that this thread has been posted to my heart skips a beat with the thought it might actually be Sagiro updating. . . One of these times my heart isn't gonna start again!


----------



## Duncan Haldane

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Dude, stop that!  Everytime I get an email alert that this thread has been posted to my heart skips a beat with the thought it might actually be Sagiro updating. . . One of these times my heart isn't gonna start again!




Sorry, but I am getting a bit concerned (I haven't been reading ENWorld as much as I used to, lately, so I might be missing something).

Sagiro hasn't posted to this thread since 13 Sep - that's over 2 months.  Is everthing Ok?  

And more importantly.... When to do we get our next update? 
I know this campaign has been running for 10 years, but I've been reading it for a number of years myself (when was it first posted?  That's when I started reading it), and I miss it!

Duncan


----------



## el-remmen

I think the fact that he has taken long breaks before couple with recently becoming a Da-da might have something to do with it. . . I'm sure we'll hear something soon. . 

And for what it's worth, I had to hold back bumping this thread a few times myself in the last couple of weeks.  I am jonesing. . .


----------



## StevenAC

Just giving this Story Hour a bump back from obscurity after the crash...

Fortunately, all of the lost updates and comments can be read at the Collected Sagiro's Story Hour site here.  (By sheer luck, I had already grabbed the contents of all except the last page in the days before the crash, and Google supplied the final page today...  )  I've put together an incomplete chapter bringing the Story Hour up to date, which will have to suffice until Sagiro eventually finds some free time to continue the story...

Cheers,
Steven


----------



## Piratecat

Steven, that's great news. I spoke with Sagiro last night, and he was worried that his "live" edits had gone the way of all things. He's at E3 right now, doing demos of the highly anticipated Bioshock and doubtlessly whooping it up with both the cognoscenti and the hoi polloi.  Or something.

Actually, I think the hoi polloi can be found in the 1e Fiend Folio. And the cognoscenti is undoubtedly detailed in the XPH.


----------



## shadowthorn

Piratecat, Sagiro, et al, I have everything but the very last post in a Word doc. No comments, just Sagiro's posts. Would Sagiro want me to post them here, do you think? Or would it be better to wait for him to do it?

I assume that StevenAC could also do this, which would have the advantage of including the comments and the final post.

What do you think?


----------



## Piratecat

He'll be back from E3 this week. It's incredibly kind of you, but I think it's best to wait -- he can figure out what's best once he's back.

Thanks!


----------



## Sagiro

StevenAC, you're a lifesaver.  Well, a timesaver, at least!    Rather than re-enter everything that was lost in the Great Crash, I'll just point people to StevenAC's link a few posts up from here.  It's got everything that's missing, in a nicer format to read. 

And now, for something new.

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 258*_
*An End Run Around the Gods*


The Company is still _wind walking_ back toward Tev when Aravis hears a _sending_ in his head.

*You will never reach Charagan.  I know what might happen, and we would die before opening the Arch.  Stay away, and you will be spared.*

Aravis graces En Oru with a brief reply:  *We shall see.*

They don’t stop until they’re above the mountain pass separating Delfir and Tev, and rather than land in the pass itself they find a small enclosed canyon a mile to the north.    Out comes the Divination Sink, still working, to thwart any attempts by the Black Circle to track them here.

Ernie sets about making breakfast.  While choosing ingredients from his pack, he mutters, “I wish there was a way to go to Charagan without going through the Arch.  Gosh darn it!”

“You know that Black Circle guy who always knows where we’re going?” says Dranko.  “We can hold his toes in the Elemental Plane of Fire until he agrees to let us through.”

“We’re not in Het Branoi anymore,” Morningstar points out.  “I don’t know that we can DO that here.”

“Well, how about a real fire then?” says Dranko.

“We could hold his toes in a fire elemental,” suggests Flicker.

“I wish I had learned the spell _plane shift_ sighs Aravis.  “That would do the trick.”

“We can do that,” says Ernie, perking up.  “It’s a divine spell.”

Aravis leaps to his feet. 

“You can?!  Well then, we can avoid the arch altogether!”

Dranko looks up from his plate.  “What do you mean?” 

“It’s simple,” says Aravis.  “We can shift to some other plane – any other plane – and then shift back to Charagan.”

“Does it involve onions?” asks Dranko suspiciously.

“Sort of.  We won’t arrive exactly where we want, but we should end up on the right side of the Uncrossable Sea when we come back.”

“Where would we go?” asks Dranko, now growing excited.

“You need the right tuning forks,” says Ernie.  “And when we trained at the Eye of the Storm, we picked some up.  We could go to the plane where the Inn was.”

Flicker splutters.  “But... but if Posada and Brechen would really allow that, how come powerful casters weren’t pulling this trick all the time?”

“How do we know they weren’t?” asks Aravis.

“Because if they were,” says Flicker, “then why didn’t the Spire just do that for us, instead of giving us that stupid rope?”

No one has a good answer to that.  There’s a minute where the only sound is that of chewing, both literally and figuratively. 

“Posada wouldn’t know where we started, right?” says Dranko.  “And we know people can get to Charagan from other planes – like Farazil.  And the Seki.  And frikkin’ Meledien.”

“And I doubt Posada would stop ALL planar travel into and out of Kivia,” adds Aravis.

And so, a cunning plan is hatched.  The Company will _plane shift_ to the vicinity of the Eye of the Storm, and then _plane shift_ back, with the Greenhouse as their target.  They’ll have to split into two groups, which has some potential danger from a “universe hates them” point of view, but it still seems a safer option than trying to get through the Arch.


* *


Being paranoi... I mean, being safety conscious, and thinking En Oru might still be too close for comfort, the Company decides to _teleport_ hundreds of miles east – to the Anlakis hilltop where they were attacked by the nomadic locals.    Grey Wolf shakes his head as Kibi dons his _helmet of water breathing_. 

“I think I’ll go with Aravis,” he says.  When Kibi looks hurt, Flicker adds, “The fact that you put that helmet on every time you _teleport_ does not inspire confidence.”

“It shows I’m taking proper precautions,” Kibi huffs.  “Unlike Aravis, who plays fast and loose and would _teleport_ anywhere on a whim...”

“I’m confident I can get you out of anything I get you into,” says Aravis with a smirk.

Soon the party is together on “savage hill,” though the Anlakis are nowhere in sight.  They move off the high ground and camp in a secluded valley, whereupon they take out the _divination sink_ as a protective measure.  As expected, the _rary’s telepathic bond_ many of them share drops out.  What’s not expected is that less than five minutes later it cuts back in for a few seconds.  Aravis gets a fleeting thought that Dranko has a fierce itch in his...

“That was disturbing,” Aravis comments, wincing.  

“What?” asks Grey Wolf.

“I caught a thought from Dranko.”

“I can see how that would be _very_ disturbing,” agrees Flicker.  

“I meant, it means either the _divination sink_ is starting to run out of juice, or the Black Circle is breaking through it.”

For the remainder of the day the _sink_ seems to sputter, though it never dies out entirely.  At night, while they sleep in a _secure shelter_, Morningstar enters a trance and checks out the local Dreamscape.  There is no menacing black palace as there was in Pyke Vale – in fact, it’s quite empty.  No one nearby has a presence in Ava Dormo, including Ell or her worshippers.  She stays for a while, practicing, making objects appear and vanish, warping and shaping the environment.  It feels sadly abandoned here – stale, disused.  She leaves an Ellish symbol behind, carved in a boulder.

“Everything all right?” asks Dranko, when she returns to her waking body.

“Yup.  It’s quiet there.  Empty.”

Over breakfast a lively debate breaks out about just whom the Company hates the most:  Octesian, Shreen the Fair, or King Farazil.  There are good arguments for all of them.  

“Why isn’t Meledien a part of this discussion?” asks Dranko, glowering.   Meledien gets his vote, though Morningstar puts Octesian at the top of the list.   Aravis casts a surprise vote for the Council of Nine.

“Who cares about a bunch of rodents?” asks Dranko, laughing.  “Grey Wolf, I imagine the Silver Shell is on your short list.”

Grey Wolf nods, silent on the subject.


* *


They _plane shift_ in two groups, one with Ernie and one with Morningstar.  Their destination:  the Eye of the Storm.   Morningstar’s group arrives in a body water that extends as far as they can see in all directions, but Dranko had thoughtfully cast _water walking_ on the entire party before the cross-planar journey.  

Ernie’s group’s trip has a hitch.  They feel a blurring of space around them as the spell is cast, but then they stop – somewhere.   Somewhere timeless, somewhere unknown.  Scree is agitated.   The Purple Eye speaks to Kibi.

*The Red Eye is resisting*

“Can you coerce it?” asks Kibi, alarmed.

*Yes.   It will put physical strain on the rest of us, that may have implications in the future.  How would you like us to proceed?*

“Do what you have to do,” says Kibi.  “Get us where we’re going.”

Ernie’s group snaps out of their odd stasis, and they find themselves in a corn field.   With both groups on the same plane, the _telepathic bond_ kicks back in.   With Aravis in one group and Kibi in the other, they both attempt to _teleport_ to the Eye of the Storm.

Both fail.

“The location’s not where we thought it was, apparently,” says Aravis.

“Crap!” says Dranko.

“I hope they made it back,” says Morningstar.  Is it possible that, even with the Blue Eye no longer powering Het Branoi, the Slices are still... sliced?

The sun overhead and the tint of the sky are the same as they remember from their stay at the inn, so at least they’re sure of having arrived on the correct plane.  

Aravis thinks to Kibi:  “Describe where you are.”

Kibi describes the cornfield well enough that Aravis is able to _teleport_ his group from the ocean to the farm.   Kibi, still _wind walking_, floats upward out of the corn to get his bearings.   Not thirty feet away an old farmer, seeing a ghostly dwarf rising up out of his field, drops his hoe and runs screaming toward a distant barn.  Kibi sighs.

“It’s possible,” muses Aravis, “that we only know where the Eye of the Storm is relative to Het Branoi, and the location we know just isn’t correct here.”

Kibi shares his disturbing experience with the Eyes of Moirel with the others, a tale which elicits many groans and worried faces.  Dranko half-jokingly suggests they just bury the annoying Red Eye right here in the corn field.  Morningstar thinks they could safely leave it with Mercury, if they could just find the Inn.
Then the discussion turns to Eddings – if the party really is able to fix the world, what will happen to the Greenhouse and the people inside it?  

“I’m sure our butler will be safe,” says Dranko.  “If he’s in the Greenhouse when whatever happens happens, he’ll be okay.  I have faith in Abernathy.”

“I’m not so sure,” says Morningstar, shaking her head.  Her concern for Eddings shows on her face.  “You know, I kind of thought that if we just used the Eyes of Moirel to go nowhere, that would just fix things.”

“You cute little naïve thing, you!” says Dranko.  “That is really adorable!  I find that level of naivety refreshing!

“I’m not usually the optimist here, but come on...” answers Morningstar.

“I’m with Morningstar,” says Flicker.  “Aren’t we almost done with all this crap?”

“If going nowhere isn’t going to fix things,” presses Morningstar, “then why are we going at all?”

“That’s what we do to GET to the spot, where we’ll do whatever it is we have to do to fix the world,” says Dranko.

“How do you know?” asks Flicker.  “All we know is that going nowhere is something we have to do to set things right.  Maybe it’s the going that fixes things!”

“I think the Sharshun went back in time and stopped the world from becoming the good place we know,” says Dranko.  “And we have to go back in time, to stop the people from stopping the world from being good.”

That provokes a profoundly thoughtful silence from the others.

“Ack,” says Morningstar, a few seconds later.

“Ack,” agrees Flicker.


* *


There’s one last item on the agenda before they _plane shift_ back to Charagan.  Morningstar intends to cast a _commune_ to clear up some nagging questions.  Since the farmer is showing no sign of returning, she casts her spell right there in the cornfield.

She drops into a trance.  An avatar appears before her, Ellish, obviously divine in nature, but somehow ragged, tattered.  Impoverished, Morningstar thinks, though the creature radiates great power.

*YES, MY HOPE?*

Morningstar is taken aback by the address.

“Is it appropriate for me to commune with you?” she asks.

*INDEED*

“Has the safety of the Greenhouse been compromised?”

*NO*

“Is Eddings healthy and safe?”

*YES*

“Will enemies be waiting for us at the Mirrors of Semek?”

*ENEMIES?  YES.  WAITING?  NO.*

“Do we have everything that we need in order to go nowhere?”

*YES.*

“Do we need to take the Red Eye of Moirel with us when we go nowhere?”

*DO NOT LEAVE IT BEHIND*

“Does our diviner enemy know our plans for the next few days?”

*NOT AT PRESENT*

“Are the Mirrors of Semek where we need to go to go nowhere?”

*YES*

“Has Kay escaped from Het Branoi in her reality?”

*I CANNOT SEE*

“Is our Divination Sink starting to fail?”

*YES*

“Were people trying to break through our Divination Sink?”

*YES*

“Will the stress put on the Eyes of Moirel compromise our ability to go nowhere?”

*I DO NOT THINK SO*

“Is going nowhere all we need to do to restore our own world”

*NO*

“If we restore the world to what we knew, will the Greenhouse and the people in it safely make the transition as well?”

*YES*

“Had the reality we grew up in already been altered from another time line?”

The avatar takes a deep breath before answering.  It looks at Morningstar with a dull gleam in her eye.

*ELL IS DYING HERE.  RESTORE WHAT YOU KNOW.*

Morningstar trembles at the words.

“Is... is there anything else that I can do to assist you here?”

*NO.  BUT IN WHAT YOU ARE DOING, YOU MUST SUCCEED.*

The spell ends.  Morningstar finds that there are tears on her cheeks.

... to be continued...


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

You're gonna make me cry.  Holding out a tasty morsel like that and yanking back your hand with it still clutched firmly within.  There's already enough of a pavlovian response here.  I see E-mail that an update has been posted.  I click the link, as soon as I read E-mail. 

Thanks for updating again.

GW


----------



## blargney the second

Dranko said:
			
		

> "Does it involve onions?" asks Dranko suspiciously.




Ba-dum ching!  That's funny stuff
-blarg

ps - and an awesome update to boot!  I love where this story has gone and is going.


----------



## shilsen

Sagiro said:
			
		

> And so, a cunning plan is hatched.




It's never good when the DM says that 

Nice update, as usual. And can I say again that I love Dranko?


----------



## Tamlyn

Shiny! Thanks for the great update Sagiro. I know it's been said before, but you could give professional authors tips about the effective use of a cliffhanger. Marvelous and frustrating at the same time. Keep it up!


----------



## Piratecat

Man, were we gleeful when we figured out the _plane shift_ workaround. Waiting is the thing that we do least well; it leads to bickering, and bickering leads to annoyance, and annoyance leads to suffering. I think that for most of us, a fast and suboptimal solution is better than a loooong solution. Luckily, though, this one seemed to be both fast AND optimal.

Shows what we know.  We just got lucky.


----------



## Nyarlathotep

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Grey Wolf shakes his head as Kibi dons his helmet of water breathing.




Didn't Kibi make a vest of water walking and breathing awhile ago after Wellington (?) commented about his density, sinking and pressure killing him despite the ability to water breathe with the helm? Or am I just bad at the memory thing?


----------



## Sagiro

Nyarlathotep said:
			
		

> Didn't Kibi make a vest of water walking and breathing awhile ago after Wellington (?) commented about his density, sinking and pressure killing him despite the ability to water breathe with the helm? Or am I just bad at the memory thing?



No, your memory is clearly above average.  Kibi did make himself a vest that allows him to cast _water walking_ once per day.  Why he still chooses the helmet, I'm not sure.  Maybe because the vest is 1/day while the helmet is limitless, so he wants to save the vest until after he knows he needs it?  

Since I'm married to Kibi's player, I'll try to remember to ask her.  

-Sagiro


----------



## Piratecat

Betcha a nickel she forgot he had it. I only say that because *I* forgot he had it!


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 259*_
*Road to Nowhere*

“Morningstar... Ell can’t really be dying.  Can she?”

Dranko doesn’t understand it, but he holds the hand of his betrothed, who is still shaking after telling the others what she learned through her _commune_.

“All of the Gods as we know them may be dying,” says Aravis.

Yoba nods.  “We’re taught that Yondalla is as strong as her worshippers.  How many worshippers do your Gods have left in this world?”

“Ell says we have to succeed,” says Morningstar, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Then we’ll succeed,” says Dranko.

“It changes nothing,” says Aravis.  “Failure has never been an option.”

“Then let’s go,” says Ernie.  “I’m ready to cast.”

Once more, he and Morningstar cast _plane shift_.  This time Ernie’s group winds up in the ocean, standing on the surface as it undulates beneath them.   Morningstar’s group arrives on the mountainous coastline of northern Harkran, not more than two hundred yards from a large group of goblins clustered around a mine entrance.  But the goblins don’t see them, and a few seconds later both groups have _teleported_ to the Greenhouse roof.   Their nostrils are quickly filled with the smoky reek of Pyke Vale.

Morningstar tries to smile.  “Ah, home sweet... evil alternate reality.”

Ernie wants to head straight away to the Mirrors of Semek, just to get things over with, but the others convince him that they should replenish their spells before the final dash.  Morningstar casts a _sending_ to Eddings, so as not to surprise him too badly.

*Eddings, we’re on the roof.  We’re coming in.*

Eddings replies:  *It will be nice to see you again, Morningstar.  I trust that everything...oh, just come in and tell me in person!*

The Company swings open the door, still boarded up to all outward appearances, but with the planks cut to allow it to open.  Eddings rises from a chair in the living room, where he has been sitting across a chess board from Carp.  The cats come running up to rub against Ernie, who reaches down to pet them.

“Yoba,” he says happily.  “This is my home.”

“It’s lovely!  Who are those people?”

Before Ernie can answer, Dranko says to Eddings, “You knew we were up on the roof, and you didn’t even get up from your game?  Boy, you can’t get good service around here!”  And with that, he seizes the butler in a ferocious bear hug.

“Has everything been okay here?” asks Morningstar.

“Boring, but good,” says Eddings.  “I’ve had time to work on my carving skills.”  He gestures at the chess set.  All of the pieces have been hand-carved from the leftover bones of various meals from the magical Icebox.  

Carp stands up.  He looks healthy and fit.

“I hope you haven’t been too bored,” says Dranko.

Carp gestures to the chessboard.  “I have learned this fascinating game.  We have played it hundreds of times.”

“Who’s better?” Dranko asks.

“We win with equal frequency.”

“He’s being charitable,” says Eddings.  “I lose two games out of every three.  But enough about us.  What have you been up to all this time?”

“Let’s talk over dinner,” suggests Kibi.

Ernie runs into the kitchen.  “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” he exclaims.  “No Icebox tonight.  I’m making dinner myself!”  Soon he and Yoba are happily preparing a homecoming feast.

“We need more trophy cases!” announces Dranko.  He has started to pull out an assortment of objects from their _bags of holding_.  The floor is soon covered with junk.  There are Nightmare Beast tusks, giantish coins the size of dinner plates, statuettes of Kibi, gears and springs from the Screel, slaad teeth, a bottle with the sapphire dust left over from Flicker’s imprisonment, a Black Circle lantern from the storeroom, 15 adamantine hoops, obsidian bricks, the fake key from the giantish village in Surgoil, eyestalks from a tundra eye, a vial of quicksilver taken from the Abyss, the crystal head of a Black Circle devotee taken from the rotunda, some Blood Fox hair...

“Wow,” says Kibi.  “You really DO collect a lot of crap!”



* *


Kibi does most of the storytelling, and does everything possible to embellish his own role and (when possible) make fun of Dranko.  He delights particularly in telling about their time spent with the Vree, who had assumed he was a luminary and the rest of the Company his servants.    Carp listens intently to all the stories.  He seems much happier now, and for good reason, than when the party had last seen him – regular meals, good company, and not being burned alive in a huge furnace will do that to a man.   He has heard from Eddings every story of the Company’s exploits, and so considers his hosts as near demigods.   Aravis wonders privately what will happen to Carp if they restore the world.  Will the universe tolerate him?  He whispers his concern to Dranko while Kibi regales, and Dranko answers that if he proves “incompatible,” they can always _plane shift_ him to a different Prime.

When the meal is over, Morningstar stands swiftly and goes to her room.  Dranko watches her go but doesn’t follow.  

“I should, uh, replenish my stock of cigars.  Flicker, you in?”

Alone, Morningstar prays fervently in the darkness for her dying Goddess.


* *

The Company wakes comfortably in their own beds, though what wakes them is a new morning of distant shrieking from the streets of Pyke Vale.   Without unnecessary delay they start to prepare for the journey to (and they hope through) the Mirrors of Semek.

“Will we have to wait for a Flashing Day?” asks Morningstar nervously.

“I think the Eyes will create a Flashing Day just for us,” says Dranko.  

“And we’ll need Ernie’s belt, and Kibi’s... self,”  adds Morningstar.  “As the Opener.”

“And the Maze, as a power source,” says Aravis.  He taps his head.

They start _wind walking_ from the roof of the Greenhouse, and for good measure are disguised as sparrows courtesy of a _veil_ from Kibi.  They have left Sagiro behind with Eddings and Carp, though Yoba and Snokas are still with them.   The journey is short as such trips go – it’s only two hours at top speed between Pyke Vale and the Mirrors.   In their own world the flight would take them over many halfling villages, including Ernie’s home of Dingman’s Ferry.  Here the lands below are desolate, with no sign that there had ever been peaceful folk tilling the fields.

The Mirrors of Semek first appear as black dots on the horizon.    Dranko drops to ground level and flies forward to scout, a misty sparrow zipping along at sixty miles per hour.   Soon he is close enough to see the clusters of tents just outside the ring of plinths, and a number of humans milling around – between fifty and a hundred, he thinks.  There are patrols which don’t seem rigorous.  One tent is conspicuously large.

“Dranko,” says Morningstar over the _telepathic bond_.  “You’re too far away.  Remember that the universe still hates us.”

“Stupid universe,” Dranko grumbles.  He returns to the others, and they all fly in toward the Mirrors en masse.

The party has various divinations working:  _greater arcane sight, see invisibility_, even a _true seeing_.   While most of the Company hover two hundred feet above the Mirrors, a few drop down low enough for their spells to play over the scene.  To Aravis’s _arcane sight_, a huge amount of Earth Magic is radiating out from the towering obelisks, obscuring all else.   

Ernie remembers his long-ago dream of black giants, and idly touches the golden belt around his waist.  _Cranchus’ Gift_ 

Everyone’s attention is drawn suddenly to a figure emerging from one of the smaller tents.  It’s a tall warrior, with thinning hair, a goatee, and powerful muscles.  There’s a black sword strapped to his back, and (most notably) familiar red armor strapped to his body.  The warrior stretches, looks around, waves to a passing soldier, and moves toward a groups of men hovering around a cook-pot.   The closer party members can hear the sounds of sparring, smell the odor of oatmeal.  Dranko does a quick scout around the camp, and while a cluster of covered wagons seems like it might be interesting, they only hold uniforms, spare weapons and armor, and general supplies.  There’s no sign of anyone being on alert for the Company or anyone else.  

“It’s a trap,” says Morningstar, thinking of their recent debacle in Delfir.

The party regroups high above the camp to talk strategy.  They have some ideas, but always there is the problem of not knowing how long it will take the Eyes of Moirel to do... whatever it they have to do, once they’ve landed inside the Mirrors.   But they talk through the problems, inventory their assets, and eventually settle on a plan that meets with everyone’s approval.

“Wow,” says Morningstar.  “We’re actually going nowhere.  How long have we been waiting for this?”

“I’m excited!” says Flicker.

“I’m worried,” says Ernie.  “I’m supposed to do something, but I don’t know what it is.  I’ve never gone nowhere before.  What if I do it wrong?”

“Ernie,” says Dranko, grinning.  “In this regard, it’ll be a lot like sex.  You know, like the bull knows what to do with the cow, without anyone telling it how.  Sooo, in that same way...”

In a small voice, Ernie answers:  “I’m not going to have to get naked... am I?”

“No, no,” Dranko assures him.  “Ernie, this is a homespun parable here.”

Aravis smiles at Ernie.  “You’re going to rise to the occasion.  I know it.”

“Are we still talking about the bull?” asks Dranko.

Aravis blinks, entirely guileless.  “No.”

“Not a good choice of words,” Grey Wolf chuckles.  

The Company casts their spells.  Everyone is made to be flying (without the _wind walk_, which doesn’t allow for fast aerial maneuvers).    Aravis scrutinizes the red-armored warrior with his _greater arcane sight_, and sees that he’s under a number of spell effects:  _nondetection, spell resistance, fire resistance, spell turning_, and _true seeing_.  Aravis gulps as he realizes the warrior would see them hovering, if he happened to look up.  

Kibi starts the ball rolling, reading from a scroll, and the red-armored warrior (whose name is Teskin) is sealed in a _forcecage_.    Teskin is jawing it up with a grunt, but he catches sight (and perhaps hears) Kibi reading his scroll.  He looks up and gives a shout – which is heard by no one save the soldier at hand, since the _forcecage_ blocks all sound.   As the Company swoops downward, Teskin barks an order at the soldier, who takes two quick strides before smacking into the invisible wall of his force-prison.   The hapless soldier lies on his back, blinking.  _Are those birds?  How odd._.  

Teskin looks down at the soldier, draws his sword, and swings it to no avail against the wall of the _forcecage_.   Some fifteen feet away a second soldier, seeing Teskin’s odd behavior, asks “General?  Are you all right?”  

Once the final member of the Company has landed in the center of the Mirrors, Ernie casts _obscuring mist_, and Morningstar casts a circular _blade barrier_ just inside the outer edge of the mist.

“Kibi!” says Morningstar in a low but impatient voice.  “Tell the Eyes to get started already!”

“Hey, Eyes?” says Kibi.  “We’re ready.  Any time now!”

*WE LACK POWER*

Kibi shares this fact with the others

There is a sound of tremendous commotion outside the mist, and a confused babble of questions.

“What is that?”
“Should we investigate?”
“Could be dangerous!”
“Maybe we should fire arrows into it.”
“No, I think the Mirrors are _supposed_ to do that.”
“Wasn’t Flashing Day months ago?”
“I don’t know; I wasn’t part of that rotation.”
“Why is the General flailing around like that?”

Yoba draws her weapon and moves to protect Ernie.  Snokas likewise stands between Kibi and Aravis, picks drawn.  

Aravis drops into the Crosser’s Maze.  In an instant he is there, high above the three dimensional map of the multiverse.  With practiced precision he zooms down to his own location on Abernia.  The Mirrors glow brightly, seven luminous rectangles that in the Maze are not black, but hued like the colors of the spectrum.  One is red, one orange, and so on through to violet.   In the center of the Mirrors, Aravis sees four glowing lights:  green, purple, blue and red.

“I think I saw a bunch of birds land in there, right before the fog.”
“What?  Birds?”
“The must have been attracted to the mist.”
“No, the birds were there _first_.”
“Boy, Teskin looks really pissed about something.  It looks like he’s shouting; has he lost his voice?”

Morningstar casts _magic circle vs. evil_, and Ernie pops a scroll of _antilife shell_ into his _quickscroll tube_

“We’re under attack!” shouts a soldier with a more level head than the rest.  “The General is trapped in some kind of... force cage!”

“Then somebody go break the stick!”

Er... what?  That gets everyone’s attention.  The worst interpretation is that they own a _refuge_ token that will summon the Emperor himself!

An arrow comes flying into the fog; it bounces off Grey Wolf’s armor.  It is followed by a dozen more, which either miss their targets or are deflected by the whirling blades of the _blade barrier_.  

“Hey, something in the fog is mutilating our arrows.  Don’t go in there!”

Grey Wolf activates his _vest of greater invisibility_ and flies up high enough to clear the top of the mist.  He sees that soldiers are running around, grabbing weapons out of tents, forming up ranks.  Some bark orders.  Teskin sees Grey Wolf and points, but no one else can see the invisible and illusion-bound enemy.   Grey Wolf conveys all of this to others over the _telepathic bond_.

Morningstar grimaces.  _Nothing can get in our way.  I can’t allow it._ 

She flies upward until she is next to Grey Wolf.  _The way must be clear.  Ell is dying._

She casts _firestorm_.  Coal-black flames rip through the ranks of the enemy soldiers, leaving charred bodies and incinerated tents behind.   Thirty smoking heaps of armor are testament to Morningstar’s wrath.  Dranko follows this with an _ice storm_ that pulverizes most of those who somehow survived the flames.   The few remaining soldiers take cover behind the Mirrors themselves, though Grey Wolf catches a few of these stragglers in a _fireball_.    


* *

Aravis first tries to draw energy from the Mirrors themselves, but in a split-second he realizes he risks a catastrophic feedback loop that would annihilate his mind.  _Never mind._ Instead, he draws upon the life-force of his fellows.  Each member of the Company feels the chilling tug of the Maze, and without hesitation they give willingly of their own souls.   Aravis channels the energy into the Purple, Green and Blue Eyes (while conspicuously avoiding the Red).  

Scree flares up.  Blue, green and purple beams shoot from his body at three of the Mirrors, and then start bouncing between them.  The _obscuring mist_ is illuminated from both without and within as rays of light slice through it.   The light glows brighter as more life force is channeled from the Company to the Eyes.

Grey Wolf sees that a third person has appeared inside the _forcecage._  Probably a spellcaster, there to rescue the red-armored warrior.  Directly below him he sees the mist glowing as if a rainbow had exploded inside it.

Kibi feels a deep shudder run through his body, and then a surge of saturating power.  _Earth Magic_.  He feels immensely solid, stable.  And here, at the center the Mirrors, with the Eyes blazing, he realizes that something is wrong with the fabric of space.   He realizes that he could reach out, part the air with his hands, but that his arms are shaking.   In fact, everyone in the Company feels a growing vibration in their bones.

Everyone, that is, except Ernie.  The belt around his waist grows warm, and the halfling feels stable, anchored.  Kibi puts his hand on Ernie’s shoulder and for him too the buzzing vibration stops.  Back in control of his limbs Kibi extends his other hand and _pulls aside_ something essential about the space here in the center.   He’s not exactly sure of what he’s doing, but he feels something part beneath his fingers like wet paper.  

Those others on the ground reach out to touch Ernie, and they too become stable.   The flyers come down and do the same.  Morningstar touches Aravis's shoulder to bring him into the chain, Aravis, who’s still in the Maze, directing energy into the Eyes.  The light inside the Mirrors has melded into a uniform white radiance, almost blinding in its intensity.  

Ernie looks down curiously at the ground.  Small rocks there are jumping up and down on the ground as if there’s an earthquake, but he himself is solid as stone.  One of the rocks cracks and flakes into fragments.   Dust is shaken loose from the ground and rising into the air in puffs.  

The _obscuring mist_ vanishes, dispelled.  Teskin steps into view, just outside the ring of blades.  Something or someone has freed him from the _forcecage_, and now he glares worriedly at the Company.  Ernie tries to cast _antilife shell_ from his scroll but he’s trying too hard to concentrate on being stable.  The spell fizzles out, as Teskin takes the plunge _through_ the blades and toward them.

Kibi is still making clearing motions with his left hand, as if he’s brushing away invisible cobwebs.  The more he clears, the brighter grows the light reflected from the Mirrors.  Now it has become as bright as the light that shone outside the Greenhouse when the history of Abernia was rewritten.  

He realizes what he’s doing.  Kibi is clearing away residual arcane energies.  The Earth is the source of all magic, he knows, and as an Earth Mage he taps directly into that.  Most arcane casters are not capable of direct contact; they rely on the residual, wispy magical emanations that rise from the earth and permeate the air.   But here, that insubstantial half-magic is only getting in the way.  He clears it away, leaving nothing but the pure power of the Earth to affect the Mirrors of Semek.  The light shines white and blinding around them; they can no longer see even as far as the blades, let alone the Mirrors themselves.

Teskin steps into the light with them, black sword drawn.  With one swift motion he swings his blade directly through Kibi, Aravis and Snokas.  It passes harmlessly through their bodies.   Dranko remembers that the Sharshun who once stood inside the Mirrors was similarly immune to their own attacks, and he smiles at the comeuppance.  Teskin realizes his impotence and rages around in the light, slashing  his sword futilely through the Company.  

Then he realizes his armor is cracking.   Being here in the Mirrors, without Ernie to stabilize him, is a bad, bad idea.  He starts to back away, just as Kibi clears away the last of the hindering half-magic.   The light somehow grows brighter, and Teskin falls to his knees, screaming in pain.  The rocks and pebbles around him are being vibrated into dust.   Blood is pouring out from between the plates in Teskin’s mail, and he falls face first into the dirt, pieces of his armor literally breaking off of his body...  

...and then the body fades away, and the world around them fades, and the bright light grows dim, and goes out, leaving the Company in a strange twilight.  There is nothing but the Company, and the Mirrors, and the Eyes of Moirel.   They are floating in the midst of the mirrors, but at the same time they feel firmly anchored in place.  Earth Magic suffuses them, and the landscape itself is blurred, but the Mirrors of Semek stand out sharply.  Scree is floating in the center of the group, though he doesn’t seem to mind.  

The world around them grows more and more blurred, as if the twilight is in strobe so rapid they cannot discern its flickering.   Every few seconds one of the Eyes flashes its color.  Kibi senses that the Red Eye is trying to stop what’s happening; one particular flash of red almost causes him to become unanchored. 

The Green Eye floats slowly over to hover before Ernie.   The young halfling flinches but finds he cannot move, is not sure his body is real.  A voice sounds in his head.

*YOU ARE DOING REMARKABLY WELL*

“Thank... thank you,” thinks Ernie.  “I’m doing my best.”

*WHAT IS YOUR NAME?*

“Ernest Wilburforce Roundhill.”

*IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU, ERNEST WILBURFORCE ROUNDHILL*

“Who are you?  Do you have a name?”

*WE DO NOT TAKE NAMES TO OURSELVES.  THAT IS A POWERFUL ARTIFACT YOU WEAR.*

“Cranchus gave it to me.”

*A WISE DWARF HE IS.  HE KNOWS OUR WAYS.*

The Green Eye is bathed for a moment in a red glow.

*I MUST CONCENTRATE ON THE TASK AT HAND.  IT WAS NICE TO MEET YOU.  PERHAPS WE WILL MEET AGAIN SOMEDAY.*

A shape appears and disappears in their midst, so quickly that no one gets a good look.  It was the size and shape of a person, and it was there in the center of the Mirrors, as if it were one of them.  But before the Company can even begin to speculate, the shape appears again, and this time does not vanish.

It’s a Sharshun, and one they recognize.  Floating among them now is Inivane, the Sharshun that the Company rescued from beneath God’s Thorn!   He wears a glowing gartine circlet around his head, and out from that circlet shine three short, thin beams of white light, like spokes on a bicycle tire.  At the ends of those beams are three Eyes of Moirel – Yellow, Orange and Indigo.  

“Hey!” says Ernie.  “We rescued him!”

Inivane stares at the Company confusedly; his expression indicates that they’re the last thing he expected to see.  

“You should put time back the way it was!” shouts Ernie.

“What... what are you doing here?” asks Inivane.  

“We’re here to make things right,” Ernie answers.

“That is also why I am here.”

“Yeah, but our right is better than your right!” says Ernie.  “Our right doesn’t have people enslaved.  It doesn’t have an Emperor.  The... the Gods are dying!”

Inivane doesn’t answer, and a moment later he blinks out of existence.  

*OUR TIMING MAY BE OFF.  THE RED...*

A sudden flare of red light fills the twilight, there is a cracking sound, and the four Eyes drop to the ground.   The flickering twilight resolves into early evening.   They are standing in the middle of the Mirrors of Semek, and the world around them looks much like it did before, albeit without soldiers and tents and spell effects.  

“Er... was that it?” asks Ernie to no one in particular. 

Dranko reaches down and picks up one of the Eyes of Moirel.  It is just a diamond now. Without color, he can’t tell which one it is.  He peers closely at the white gem, and goes pale as he sees that it’s veined with deep cracks.   

The Eye of Moirel is broken.  All of them are.

... to be continued...


----------



## Fimmtiu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> The Eye of Moirel is broken.  All of them are.




Well, at least nobody else has to worry about having their eyes scooped out now...


----------



## the Jester

It's cool to see the party finally 'go nowhere' after all this time!   It's pretty exciting to see this happen at last, after all this time.  And, as always, you end on quite a note...   

Any chance of seeing a list of the party's classes, levels and alignments?


----------



## Tamlyn

Fimmtiu said:
			
		

> Well, at least nobody else has to worry about having their eyes scooped out now...




Yeah, but how do they get back now?


----------



## el-remmen

Hmmm, I don't know what I was expecting, but that wasn't it. . .   But then again I get the feeling the PCs didn't quite know what to expect either. . .


----------



## Gold Roger

*BLAMM!!!*

What more can you say. That's bad, real bad. And quite spectacular.


----------



## Piratecat

Interestingly, this is what's on the tape, but it isn't what I remember happening. Or at least, not exactly. I suspect that the next tape will have the piece on it that I remember. And yeah, it's interesting. Yes, indeedy.

We had no idea what to expect, although I had some suspicions. I really, _really_ didn't expect the Eyes to shatter. And you know, this is a direct result of Kibi putting strain on them just recently!

By the way, long time readers will soon appreciate Sagiro's subtleties. Does anyone notice something odd about the conversation that the green eye had with Ernie while we were traveling nowhere?


----------



## Seule

Sagiro said:
			
		

> The Eye of Moirel is broken.  All of them are.




Might I venture to guess that in whatever alternate timeline they have shifted to the Eyes already exist, and they can't exist in two places at once?
If I'm right, they are out there again, waiting to be found and used.  

I'm probably wrong though.

  --Seule


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Piratecat said:
			
		

> By the way, long time readers will soon appreciate Sagiro's subtleties. Does anyone notice something odd about the conversation that the green eye had with Ernie while we were traveling nowhere?






			
				A long time ago said:
			
		

> "Before the head snaps off at the neck and falls to the floor, it swivels around to face Ernie, and says in a rasping voice: “Ernest, how nice to see you again.”




I thought that reminded me of something...

EDIT: And just in case anyone was wondering, it was the Green Eye that was animating that soon-to-be-decapitated head...


----------



## Mishihari Lord

Seule said:
			
		

> Might I venture to guess that in whatever alternate timeline they have shifted to the Eyes already exist, and they can't exist in two places at once?
> If I'm right, they are out there again, waiting to be found and used.
> 
> I'm probably wrong though.
> 
> --Seule




 The Orbs are Dragonballs!


----------



## Sagiro

Mishihari Lord said:
			
		

> The Orbs are Dragonballs!



Given that I have no idea what you're talking about, that probably isn't right... 

-Sagiro


----------



## el-remmen

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Given that I have no idea what you're talking about, that probably isn't right...
> 
> -Sagiro




Uh, how do you think baby dragons are made?


----------



## Mishihari Lord

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Given that I have no idea what you're talking about, that probably isn't right...
> 
> -Sagiro




I was referring to the very popular anime and manga Dragonball and DragonballZ, in which the main characters quest for the 7 Dragonballs.  When they get them all, the are granted 1 wish, then the dragonballs disperse across the globe to await the next quester.  Given that the target audience is probably 10 year old boys, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you didn't recognze it.


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Seule said:
			
		

> Might I venture to guess that in whatever alternate timeline they have shifted to the Eyes already exist, and they can't exist in two places at once?
> If I'm right, they are out there again, waiting to be found and used.
> 
> I'm probably wrong though.
> 
> --Seule




Some quotes from the wayback machine



> May 5, 1996
> 
> The Company head into the town of Dingman’s Ferry. Murgy Thorne was digging himself a new wine cellar under his tavern, and found protruding bits of a large statue buried under his place. The hand has a gold bracelet around the wrist, which would be large enough for a person’s belt.
> 
> May 12, 1996
> 
> The digging is nearly finished. By now, it’s clear that the statue looks almost exactly like Ernie. Halfling records show that Wilburforce was once a family name in the area.




I'm guessing that Yoba does not go "back to the future".


----------



## thatdarncat

ouch... good catch!


----------



## LightPhoenix

While I missed the Green Eye bit, it struck me a bit odd how it talks about itself (and the other Eyes).  The way it's written almost makes it seem like there are more than seven of them.


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Imagine a plot hook, introduced at 2nd level, resolved 9 years later


----------



## KidCthulhu

MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> Imagine a plot hook, introduced at 2nd level, resolved 9 years later




Imagine, hell, Sagiro does that to us on a regular basis.  It's gratifying, frustrating and spooky.


----------



## Everett

This is nothing to do with the last two updates, but are we ever going to find out why Aravis is 'like a cat'?


----------



## Piratecat

Everett said:
			
		

> This is nothing to do with the last two updates, but are we ever going to find out why Aravis is 'like a cat'?



We now know why, but you can bet your socks we don't know WHY... and we sure as heck don't know what to do about it.

In other words, we have learned why it is that cats like him. The answer is so unexpected, though, that there's going to be a fascinating explanation somewhere down the line. We just haven't found it yet.


----------



## Zaruthustran

Dibs on "Aravis is an awakened cat (former familiar) that's been polymorphed into a human"!

!!!

-z


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> Imagine a plot hook, introduced at 2nd level, resolved 9 years later





			
				KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Imagine, hell, Sagiro does that to us on a regular basis.  It's gratifying, frustrating and spooky.




Well yes, You don't have to imagine it. I was suggesting to the rest of us poor souls who aren't in Sagiro's game that we try to imagine such a thing happening.


----------



## Everett

I can imagine it.  ...do I win something?  Gumby doll, maybe?


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Everett said:
			
		

> I can imagine it.  ...do I win something?  Gumby doll, maybe?



A vivid imagination is it's own reward.


----------



## Sejs

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> Dibs on "Aravis is an awakened cat (former familiar) that's been polymorphed into a human"!




Dibs on the whole 'nine lives/multiple incarnations/was a cat that's been reincarnated' thing.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 260*_
*The Beans are Withheld*

“Did we do it wrong?  What happened?”

Ernie is almost frantic.  Dranko stares at the cracked Eyes, unbelieving. 

“This must have been the price of doing that _plane shift_,” says Grey Wolf.  “The Eyes couldn’t hold themselves together.”

“Um,” says Dranko.  “How are we going to get back?”

“I don’t know!” answers Ernie.  “Where are we?”

Then two things happen in quick succession.  First, the Sharshun Inivane appears again, standing next to the Company in the circle of Mirrors.  His three Eyes of Moirel – Yellow, Orange and Indigo – immediately fall out of his magical circlet and bounce lifelessly on the ground.  Inivane looks down at them, then looks up at the Company, who are staring back at him.  Everyone, Inivane included, now has the same “Oh, s***” look on their faces.

Second, there is an extraordinarily bright flash of light from the center of the Mirrors, followed by a shockwave that blasts outward, setting the air rippling in an expanding circle.   All assembled are knocked backward, lifted slightly off their feet, and rendered swiftly unconscious.

Presumably, some time passes.


* *


Aravis blinks.  He’s lying on his back, staring upward at a partly-cloudy sky.   

_I’ve lost my empathic link with Pewter.  But if he’s dead, I’d know it._

He sits up and looks around groggily.  Around him are sprawled the bodies of his companions, as well as that of Inivane.   His head feels like it’s stuffed with sawdust, and not only in an I’ve-just-been knocked-out kind of way.  His brain feels dull, like he’s lost his intellectual edge.   His _greater arcane sight_, working fine before the shockwave, is no longer active.  Come to think of it, no one looks like birds anymore, though Kibi’s _veil_ should have lasted hours yet.  Lying a few feet from him are two of the now-inert Eyes of Moirel.  He grabs them and puts them in his pack, where Pewter also lies, unconscious but breathing.

Kibi is the next to come around.  Like Aravis he has lost his empathic link with his familiar; Scree is just a jumble of rocks next to him.  To his great relief the earth elemental stirs a little bit as he watches.   Kibi watches as Snokas sits up and rubs his temples; the half-orc immediately points at the still form of Inivane.  Kibi pulls a rope from his pack, and the two of them start to tie up the Sharshun.

Aravis looks around for more of the Eyes, spots a third and pops it in his pack.  This time Pewter’s eyes are open, and the cat is looking at his master with obvious concern.  Aravis picks him up and set him on his own shoulder, whereupon Pewter starts to purr. 

Dranko groans and get to his knees.  “Oooooh, my head.”  

“I’ve found three of the Eyes,” says Aravis, still searching.

“Find the others,” suggests Dranko.  He looks at Inivane, who still hasn’t stirred.  “Hey, can we kill him?”

“I wouldn’t,” says Aravis.

“We might need him,” adds Kibi.

“Nah, I’m sure we can find food elsewhere,” says Dranko.  Aravis rolls his eyes.  Seeing that Kibi and Snokas are doing something of an amateur job with the rope, Dranko calls to them:  “Hey, I have manacles.  Hold on a minute.”

He opens his _Heward’s widemouth pouch_ and says ‘manacles.’

Nothing happens.  He tries again with the same (lack of) result.

“I don’t think magic is working here,” says Aravis.

“Ahhhhhhh!” says Dranko, aghast.

“I feel the same way,” adds Aravis.

“No magic?  None?”

“None.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Wait,” says Dranko.  “Are our magic items ruined, or just... turned off for a while?”

“I don’t know,” concedes Aravis.

“No magic,” says Dranko, utterly horrified.  He thinks of all the items, magic and otherwise, he keeps in the now defunct magic pouch.

“Stop whining and help me tie up this Sharshun,” says Kibi.

It takes Dranko all of five seconds to realize that Kibi’s knots are hopeless, and that Inivane will escape without even trying when he wakes up.   Dranko does the job right, taking the time to hog-tie the Sharshun such that any attempt by the prisoner to straighten his legs will result in self-asphyxiation.  He finishes just in time; Inivane wakes up, tries to stretch, and nearly chokes himself to death.

Dranko chuckles.  “Just stay there for a little while, pal.  So, how are you doing?  Oh, wait, let me just relieve you of those weapons.”

While Inivane slowly regains consciousness, Dranko starts removing the dark elf’s weapons.  Inivane’s eyes widen and he attains an expression of great concentration.  The Company then remembers (and fears) that their foe might have a poison sac, and is trying to commit suicide.  But the Sharshun doesn’t die, and instead, when nothing happens, he looks down at a ring on his finger.  Dranko quickly moves to remove it, along with every other magical-looking item on his person.  (Although, when he attempts to cast _detect magic_, it fails to function.)

Over the next minute the rest of the Company wake up, all with angry headaches.   At Aravis’s direction they hunt around on the ground for the remainder of the Eyes, and soon they have a collection of seven cracked diamonds.  

“Ok, brilliant wizards,” demands Dranko.  “What just happened?”

“Not sure,” says Grey Wolf.  “But perhaps we should move outside the Mirrors.”

So saying, he staggers out of the ring of obelisks.  To everyone’s disappointment his magic items do not regain their function, though Grey Wolf thinks his armor may have become a bit lighter.

Dranko picks up Inivane and carries him out of the circle.   The rest of the Company follows.   The wizards’ empathic links with their familiars are still gone, the Eyes are still cracked, and all magic remains out of commission.  Dang.   Dranko shakes his _wide-mouth pouch_ in frustration.  

“Damn it!  All of my stuff is in this bag.  Well, at least no one can steal what’s inside.”

“See?” says Grey Wolf, smiling wryly.  “You’re looking at the bright side.”

“That’s just great.”  Dranko looks down at Inivane and nudges him with his foot.

“So, can you talk?”

“Yes,” answers Inivane, speaking Charagan common.

“Nice to see you again,’ says Dranko, smiling.

“I wish I could say the same.”

“I’m sure,” says Dranko.  “You’ve been a busy boy since we let you free.  Can I ask a question?”

“I can’t stop you,” says Inivane pleasantly.

“Did you end up killing Grawly and Thewana and that parrot?”

“Who?”

“Did you assassinate any archmages?”

“No.  But if I had, I wouldn’t tell you, so my answer is meaningless.”

Dranko sighs.  “Listen,  I’m sorry we currently have you hog-tied.  It may not have to stay that way.  But we need to talk, and understand what’s going on here.”

“I’ll be happy to help you in any way you want, as long as you let me live,” says Inivane.

“That sounds reasonable,” says Dranko.

“So, you’ll let me live?”

“Um.  Lets’ say we have no immediate plans to kill you.  If we did, you wouldn’t have woken up.”

Inivane purses his lips.  “_Immediate_ plans.”

Dranko nods.  “We need to understand what’s going on.   But no guarantees.  I mean, if you tell us you came here to start a giant drought that would kill everyone in Charagan, that would make it tougher for us to let you live.”

“Not knowing if you are going to let me live, I cannot promise to tell you anything,” says Inivane.  The Sharshun looks at Dranko’s holy symbol to Delioch, God of Healers.

“You are a holy man, I see.  Swear on your God you will not kill me if I am honest with you.  You, or any of your friends.”

Morningstar interrupts with her opinion about that.

“No.”

Aravis adds:  “If we discover that you are jeopardizing our mission, we _will_ kill you.”

“And the last time we bargained with you, it didn’t go so well,” adds Morningstar.

Inivane blinks.  “We had no bargain,” he points out.  “You let me go without any conditions for my release.”

Morningstar frowns, but is silent.  Thinking harder, she recalls that, against her own opinion, the Company _had_ just released the Sharshun into the wild.

Dranko looks up idly at the nearest Mirror while Morningstar and Aravis banter with the prisoner.   On a whim he starts to scramble up, the rocky backside of the plinth offering an easy climb.  Soon he’s sitting on the top, and his gaze is immediately drawn westward.  Smoke is rising from beyond the distant hills – in the general direction of Dingman’s Ferry.  

Morningstar stands over Inivane, glaring.

“Are you going to tell us why you’re here?”

“Only if you promise not to kill me.” 

“You might as well just say ‘no,’ then.”

“Very well,” says Inivane coolly.  “No.”

“Dranko!” calls Morningstar.  “Here’s a thought.  No magic includes no HEALING magic, for things like broken bones after a hundred foot fall.”

Good point.  Dranko carefully descends.

The Company needs to talk strategy, so Yoba, Flicker and Snokas are left to guard the prisoner while the others move a ways away to converse.

“So, is this a different onion, or a different slice of the same one?” asks Morningstar.

“I think it’s the same slice,” says Kibi.  “But just at a different time.”

“Basically, we don’t know where the hell we are, or when,” says Dranko.  “But, you know, if Inivane came back to change the world, and he hasn’t done it yet, then if we kill him now, doesn’t the world stay the same, and everything becomes all friendly again?”

“If we’re really before he changed the world, yes,” says Aravis.  “But I don’t think that we can just make that assumption.”

“Maybe we’re here before the Eyes were created, and that’s why they’re broken,” muses Morningstar. 

“We’re here before WE were created,” says Dranko.  “We’re not broken.”

“Well, we’ll kick ourselves if we kill him now, and later realize we need to talk with him,” says Kibi.

Before Ernie can stop himself, he blurts:  “Speak with dead!”  He immediately glances guiltily toward Yoba, and adds:  “No, I don’t think we should kill him.”

“I don’t either,” says Aravis.

“Then we should promise not to kill him,” says Dranko, “and find out what he knows.”

Morningstar says flatly, “I’m comfortable with telling him we won’t kill him, hearing what he knows, and then killing him anyway.”

When Ernie looks upset at the idea, Morningstar glowers at him.  “If that’s what needs to be done... hey, Ell’s dying, remember?”

They continue to talk in circles for a while, and after a few minutes Dranko, Ernie and Grey Wolf decide to go for a walk for an hour, to determine if distance from the Mirrors will affect the function of magics.   As they discover upon their return, it’s time and not distance that’s the key factor.   During their return trip magic (thankfully) starts to come back for both groups.   The wizards’ empathic links to their familiars kick back in, magic items flare to light and life, and spellcasting becomes possible.  This offers a new avenue to explore.  Morningstar casts a still, silent _detect thoughts_ and starts to scan the surface of Inivane’s mind.

“Are you SURE you don’t want to tell us why you’re here?” asks Aravis.

Inivane offers the same riposte.  “Are you going to promise not to kill me?”

Morningstar, standing behind Inivane, shakes her head.  His surface thoughts simply mirror his words.

“Who are you here to assassinate?” asks Aravis.  

“I’m not here to assassinate anyone... as far as you know.”

He’s thinking:  _I’m going to be cagey, and not actually answer any of their questions._

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your mission?” reiterates Aravis.

“Yes.”

“That was really surprising when the Eyes stopped working, wasn’t it?” asks Aravis, hoping the indirect approach will lead to more revealing thoughts.

“Yes,’ agrees Inivane, and Morningstar frowns again.

“That must have really screwed up what you were trying to do,” prompts Aravis .

“Maybe it did, and maybe it didn’t.”

He’s thinking: _No matter what he’s trying to get out of this, I’m not going to answer any of his questions._

Morningstar shakes her head again.  Inivane is not thinking the answers to any of the questions.  His mind is remarkably disciplined and well-ordered, as if he’s been trained not to let his surface thoughts stray.

“Why are YOU here?” asks Inivane

“We think to stop you,” says Aravis.

“And what do you think I’m here to do?” continues the Sharshun.

“We can’t tell you,” says Aravis, smiling.  Inivane just nods.

“Of course you can’t.   So, you must then know why I can’t talk either.  I’m glad we’ve come to this understanding.”

The three walkers soon return, and Dranko checks Inivane’s ropes.  He finds that the Sharshun has been loosening them all this time, without anyone noticing.    Dranko retightens the knots and then plants a foot in Inivane’s back.

“I’m not surprised you’ve tried to break free,” he says.  “I’d have done the same in your situation.  But that’s just not going to fly.”

“Not anymore, I see,” says Inivane, cool and composed despite his face being pushed into the dirt.

“Is he going to stop trying to escape?” asks Ernie.  

“I doubt it,” says Dranko.  “Inivane, are you going to stop trying?”

“Of course not.  I’m already starting to loosen the ropes again.”

“Stop that!” barks Dranko.  “I appreciate the honesty, though.”

Kibi steps into Inivane’s line of sight.  “Don’t you feel any obligation toward us, since we rescued you from eternal torment?”

“Of course,” says Inivane.  “As such, if you free me, I wouldn’t attempt to kill you, or harm you in any way.  I do feel thankful that you rescued me from God’s Thorn.”

“I’m going to ask you a question that’s pretty innocuous,” says Dranko.  “Maybe you’ll answer it.  What was the date yesterday?”

“That’s a fascinating question,” says Inivane.

“No, that’s a simple question,” says Dranko.  “A _fascinating_ question would be:  ‘what’s better for explaining planar theory:  onions, or parfaits?’”

“Planar theory?  Onions or Parfaits?  I wouldn’t use either of those things.  I would use diagrams, of actual planar formations.” 

“If you were trying to explain to Dranko here, though, which would you use?” asks Aravis, smirking.

“I wouldn’t attempt it,” says Inivane.

“I did.  I used onions,” says Aravis.

“To make him cry?  I would imagine that someone of his intellect would cry no matter what you...”

“Hey!” shouts Dranko.  “I’m standing right here!”

Inivane smiles at him.

“What was yesterday’s date?” repeats Dranko.  

“I’m not going to tell you,” says Inivane simply.  

“Why won’t you?” asks Aravis, growing impatient.

“Because you want to know.”

“He’s starting to annoy me,” grumbles Grey Wolf.  

Morningstar casts _memory read_ on the prisoner, attempting to share his memory of when he was sent into the Mirrors.  It fails, and Inivane, unable to look at Morningstar because of his bonds, says to no one:

“Excuse me.  That is extremely impolite, whoever is doing that.”

“Yes it is,” agrees Morningstar.  “Here’s the thing.  My Goddess is dying.   I will do whatever I have to, to learn how to set things right.  So, we can either get information out of you the easy way, or the unpleasant way.”

“What is the unpleasant way?” asks Inivane, his voice indicating nothing more than idle curiosty.

“I don’t think you need to know that right now.”

“Well, if I thought it was unpleasant _enough_, I might be willing to talk.”

But yet more of this banter goes nowhere.  Inivane won’t talk.  The Company refuses to bargain, but is unwilling to kill him outright.  Impasse.  

Finally a light goes off over Kibi’s head, and he pulls out a scroll.  As he reads, Inivane stiffens.  He sees what’s coming, and tries his hardest to resist.   If his mind succumbs, he knows it’s over.  Kibi finishes casting, and says earnestly to the prisoner:  “I _suggest_ that it would be better for everyone, especially since we’re all old acquaintances, and since we did save your life, if you just answer all our questions.”

Inivane blinks.  _It’s over._

“That sounds reasonable,” he says.

...to be continued...


----------



## Piratecat

The look on Sagiro's face when he rolls horribly low on a saving throw is truly, truly a thing of beauty.


----------



## wedgeski

I bet that whole sequence was a blast to RP. It sounded like a session with a hack therapist: "Why the hell won't you answer any of my questions?" "I don't know, why do you *think* I won't answer any of your questions?"

Now, Sagiro, answer the damn questions!


----------



## shilsen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> The look on Sagiro's face when he rolls horribly low on a saving throw is truly, truly a thing of beauty.



 Silly man! He clearly needs to get better trained players. Mine make sure to make half a dozen low rolls at crucial times, so the ones I do roll never hurt.

BTW, I really like Inivane now.


----------



## Everett

That was almost like a good slapstick routine.  I quite enjoyed it.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Everett said:
			
		

> That was almost like a good slapstick routine.  I quite enjoyed it.




I'm slapping stick right now, IYKWIM


----------



## Gold Roger

Inivane has just become my favorite NPC from this storyhour. So magic works, but they lost everything magic they had. Does that mean they have to rebind to their familiars?


----------



## Piratecat

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> Inivane has just become my favorite NPC from this storyhour.



Not ours. We hate the bastard, partially because he's opposed to everything we love and partially because he made us have another one of those moral debates. 

(You _think_ I'm kidding. Consensus decision making is tough when one of the group (Ernie) believes in happiness and light and redeeming people, and one of the group (Morningstar) is utterly pragmatic and believes that a good defense involves killing the offense so they don't re-offend.)

Speaking of pragmatic, how _'bout_ that Inivane? Totally amoral, but highly ethical. He could have been one of us, if we had different loyalties. You can tell he's a bad guy because we kind of liked him at first too. Sagiro's NPCs are maddeningly complex.



> So magic works, but they lost everything magic they had. Does that mean they have to rebind to their familiars?



Magic was just suppressed. When our spellcasting abilities came back, so did our magic items. I wouldn't put it past Sagiro to junk all our stuff, but luckily it didn't come to that.


----------



## el-remmen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> We hate the bastard, partially because he's opposed to everything we love and partially because he made us have another one of those moral debates.
> 
> (You _think_ I'm kidding. Consensus decision making is tough when one of the group (Ernie) believes in happiness and light and redeeming people, and one of the group (Morningstar) is utterly pragmatic and believes that a good defense involves killing the offense so they don't re-offend.)




Reminds me of how the players in my 'Out of th Frying Pan' game decided they were going to take out one of their foes before he spoke.  Not because they were afraid of his spells, but because they were certain he would reveal some peice of knowledge that would cause them to question their choices and argue about it for three hours. 

That is when you get players asking themselves, "Hmmm, has this guy been evil enough in the past that we know of so that we can just kill him right now and not have to justify it to ourselves later?" 

And of course, my answer to that is, "Well, if you have to ask, maybe he hasn't."


----------



## Everett

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> I'm slapping stick right now, IYKWIM




/weak laugh.


----------



## Everett

Piratecat said:
			
		

> (You _think_ I'm kidding. Consensus decision making is tough when one of the group (Ernie) believes in happiness and light and redeeming people, and one of the group (Morningstar) is utterly pragmatic and believes that a good defense involves killing the offense so they don't re-offend.)




I went back through thefirst couple posts of the campaign this morning and noticed that of the original party, only Dranko, Morningstar and Ernie are still in the game.  I find that interesting - I don't know quite why I find it interesting...


----------



## Sagiro

Everett said:
			
		

> I went back through thefirst couple posts of the campaign this morning and noticed that of the original party, only Dranko, Morningstar and Ernie are still in the game...



And Flicker!


_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 261*_
*The Beans are Spilled*

Morningstar is unconvinced; she casts _detect thoughts_, but the Sharshun resists.  Kibi continues under the assumption that Inivane will now be more forthcoming.

“So, what _are_ you doing here?  What are you trying to accomplish?”

Inivane shifts himself into the most comfortable position he can, smiles at Kibi, and answers.

“I’m here to change the course of history,” he says amiably.   “Into something more... palatable.”

Well, _that_ confirms a few suspicions!

“What do you have to do, in order to do that?” Kibi continues.

“Warn the Emperor, of course.”

“Do you know _when_ we are?” 

Inivane thinks a moment.  “We weren’t exactly sure.  I suspect we’re in the vicinity of the year 200.”

The Company knows that the numbering of years was reset when the Emperor Naloric was first driven out of Charagan, so all this really tells them is that they’re probably more than 2000 years in the past.  Yikes!

“What do you want to warn the Emperor about?” asks Kibi.

“Oh, you know how things went, back in the future.  Goodness, you were there, you saw how history ended up.  From what I gather, you were personally instrumental in some of the later failures.”

“Wait,” says Dranko.  “You’re warning the Emperor about _us_?”

“Of course not!” laughs Inivane.  “If I succeed, things will never get to that point.  In fact, you’ll never be born.  For that matter, neither will I.  Of course, the success of my mission is highly in doubt at the moment.”

“Did you have a plan for getting back to your proper time?” asks Dranko.  “Or were you planning on living out the rest of your life here?”

“I wasn’t sure.  It appears I’m stuck here.  I though I might be able to use the Eyes to get back, but that seems unlikely now.  But it doesn’t matter.  My duty is to the Emperor.   My personal welfare is of little import.”

Kibi speaks again.  “Have you done anything to fulfill your mission _other_ than end up here?”

“My intention had been to arrive here, and activate a ring that I was wearing,” says Inivane, glancing at his finger.

“What would it do?”

“It would have teleported me to the Emperor.”

“Really?” exclaims Dranko.  “That’s brilliant!

“How would you have activated it?” asks Kibi.

“It’s thought activated,” explains Inivane.  He frowns.   “It should have just worked.  I don’t know how they made it, so I can’t be sure what went wrong.”

“Very impressive,” says Dranko.  “But tell me.  I could have sworn that, a long time ago, we saw somebody go through the Mirrors on Flashing Day, holding an Eye of  Moirel.  Did...”

“You don’t mean a long time ago,” interrupts Inivane.  “You mean a long time _from now._  Yes?”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean.  Did that not work?  Clearly you managed to get that Eye of Moirel back.”

“I wasn’t there for that test, but I read all the materials.  It worked.  It worked just fine.  It was spatial travel, not temporal, since our agent only had one Eye with him.  Again, I’m no expert, but I gather that was an important step toward calibrating some enchantments that were later placed on my circlet.”

And so, another mystery explained.   The Company by now is satisfied that Kibi’s _suggestion_ has taken fully.  

“If you don’t mind my asking,” says Inivane.  “What are _you_ doing here?  I’m quite curious.”

“Truth is, we’re not quite sure,” says Dranko.  “We were following a prophecy, and we found ourselves here, kind of at loose ends.”

“I hope you like it here, because you’re stuck here too,” says Inivane.

“It does seem that way,” says Kibi, nodding.  “We hoped you had some sneaky back door way of getting home.”

“There is no ‘sneaky back door way’ of getting back.  I’m sorry.  I wish there was, for all of our sakes.”

Getting back to an earlier line of questioning, Kibi asks, “Tell us more specifically just what happened to the Emperor, that you were going to warn him against.”

“I was going to warn him about the group that would defeat him, if he didn’t do something about them.  I was going to warn Naloric about the Spire.”

That produces a chorus of ‘Ahhhhhhhhhh’s from the Company, which prompts Inivane to ask:  “Don’t you people read your history?”

“We couldn’t!” Dranko gripes.  “There was the Masking!”

Inivane laughs.  “Oh, yes, I see.  Well, as you probably know, the reason Naloric tried to come back from Volpos was because he had been driven there after ruling for Charagan for many hundreds of years.   The Spire had been plotting against him in secret, planning their little war, and they somehow got the upper hand, and they drove Naloric into exile.  Things will go much better if that never happens, so I’m here to warn him not to let the Spire... fester.”

“You know,” Ernie chimes in.  “You succeeded.  In the future, the Emperor won.”

“He did?  Splendid!”  Inivane’s face breaks into a grin for just a second, but then it fades.  “But, no, that was before you showed up.  Now there’s no way to be sure.  It’s possible that your being here is all part of the history that leads to Naloric’s victory, but I’m not betting on it.”

There are a few seconds of silence, during which Inivane shifts his weight again so that his legs stop falling asleep.

“Say,” says Dranko, thinking of another question.  “Naloric had a big digging fetish.  He always had lots of slaves digging.  Do you know why?”

“No, I’m not sure.  He’s always been very interested in that, though.”

“What did Darkeye do to that guy with the moustache?” asks Ernie, thinking of poor Sagiro.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re talking about,” says Inivane, shaking his head.  He glowers, though, as if the subject pains him.

“Hey, remember the bitch who was with us when we freed you?” asks Dranko.

“Yes, I do.  Rosetta, her name was, right?”

“Did you kill her?” asks Dranko.  “Or do you know who did?”

“Killed her when?”

“In the future.”

“She’s dead?”

“We don’t know.  She disappeared while investigating... you know, Sharshun stuff.  We just figured...”

“Had she crossed my path,” says Inivane, “I would have tried to kill her.  But she didn’t, and  I didn’t.”

“Darkeye must be a truly impressive leader,” says Dranko.  “What do you think the most impressive and...”

Inivane interrupts sharply.  “I’m not going to talk about her, I’m sorry.  I wish that I could, but I’ve made some promises, and, you know how things are.”

“Aw, that’s okay,” Dranko assures him, smiling.  “What have you been up to since the time we saw you last?”

“I rejoined the Sharshun,” answers Inivane.  

“Were they glad to see you?” Dranko asks.

“Yes, they were.  In fact, as soon as they saw me, they knew I was a natural to go on this mission, since I might actually know the people here, if the timing worked out.  Plus, they wanted someone without a poison sac, and mine had been removed before I was locked away in God’s Thorn.  

“So, did the Sharshun just start you training for this mission, or did they make you prove yourself first?”

Inivane looks offended.  “I didn’t have to _prove_ myself.  In fact, they trusted me in part because they had read about me in certain historical records.”

“Oh, right,” says Dranko with a laugh.  “See, the Masking... we don’t have books about the Sharshun lying around.   Were there really books about you?”

“A few passages,” says Inivane.

“Was it funny, reading about yourself after all that time?”

“Yes.  They exaggerated some points, got some details wrong.  I offered corrections.  But I spent a lot of time relaxing.  I deserved it, after centuries of torture.”

“Absolutely!” agrees Dranko.  

“Any other missions?” asks Morningstar.

“No, this _was_ my mission.   But as I said,  I’m not sure if I’ve succeeded or not.  There’s no way for any of us to know.  Say, I’m curious about something else.  How did you manage to travel back in time, with only the Eyes that you had?”

“We had three ourselves,’ says Kibi.  “Just like you.”

“Four, actually,” Dranko corrects.  “We found two of them in the Hets.”

“Hets?”

“You don’t know what that is?”

“No,” says Inivane.  “What’s a Het?”

“It’s like a henway,” explains Dranko. 

“A henway?  What’s a he...”

Inivane barely avoids the set-up.  He sighs.  “Must you be so banal?”

“Yes,” says Aravis.  “He must.”

“Sooooo,” says Kibi, “why do you think your three Eyes would let you go back in time, but our four wouldn’t?”

“I personally don’t know much about them,” admits Inivane.  “But _we_ have the books that Condor wrote.”

*Flashback, to several months earlier.   The Company has returned from Kivia with the Crosser’s Maze, and has just completed their mission to find out what happened to the Spire agent Carbuncle.  Now, back in the Greenhouse, they find their two Eyes of Moirel have lodged in the eye-sockets of their new orcish torchbearer, Skorg.  Most of what they portend concerns Grey Wolf and the Black Circle plot to merge Abernia and Volpos, but there is also this:

CONDOR IS A NAME YOU HEARD LONG AGO, GREATEST OF NALORIC’S INNER CIRCLE. HE DROVE A SPIKE THROUGH THE FABRIC OF ALL THINGS, AND LOCKED THE HOLE WITH SEVEN KEYS. HE TOLD NALORIC THAT IT WOULD BE NECESSARY, TO CORRECT FUTURE MISTAKES THAT COULD NOT BE CORRECTED...*

“You do?” asks Dranko.  “Really?”

“Where are they?” asks Kibi eagerly.

“I really shouldn’t be telling you these things,” says Inivane.  “I could get in trouble.  Like I said, there are things I’ve made promises to keep secret.  I’ve probably said too much already.”

No.  Really?  You don’t say!

“Our Eyes pretty much just told us what to do,” says Kibi.

“They _talked_ to you?” says Inivane in obvious surprise.

“Didn’t yours talk to you?” asks Dranko smugly.

“Of course not.  They’re rocks!”

“No, they’re intelligent,” says Dranko.  

“Really?  Intelligent?”

“Absolutely,” says Aravis.

“Well, that’s galling!”

“They only talk when they feel like it, which isn’t often,” adds Kibi.

“In theory, they didn’t like what you  were doing, and were willing to help us stop you,” says Aravis.

“I was under the impression that they had to be forced, if you didn’t have all seven,” says Inivane.

There’s another ten seconds of silence, after which Inivane asks softly:  “Can I go now?”

There’s more silence, and the Company moves off again for a final brief conference.   Everyone realizes that it’s harder now, having seen Inivane so pleasant and cooperative.  Harder, but not too hard.

“Have we promised not to kill him?” asks Yoba, her face grim.

“No, we have not,” says Aravis.  “And, literally, millions of lives hang in the balance.”

“I understand,” says Yoba.  “Still, we should make it as quick and painless as possible.”

“I’ll do it,” says Ernie, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Yoba holds his hand.  “Are you sure?”  

Ernie nods.  “I can do it with mercy, and without rancor.”

Without giving himself time to hesitate, Ernie draws his sword and moves behind Inivane.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Sorry for what?” asks Inivane.

Ernie stabs him swiftly through the back of the neck.   The Sharshun does indeed die quickly, though not without a last expression of utter betrayal.

...to be continued...


----------



## wedgeski

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Inivane barely avoids the set-up.  He sighs.  “Must you be so banal?”



Inivane, or the DM? 



> Ernie stabs him swiftly through the back of the neck.   The Sharshun does indeed die quickly, though not without a last expression of utter betrayal.



Heavy stuff.


----------



## Fimmtiu

Ouch. Poor Ernie. A pity -- as usual, the party's nemeses are more sympathetic than their allies. On a lighter topic, I suppose the whole "back in time" thing is why there's a giant statue of Ernie buried underground in the present?


----------



## Gold Roger

Interesting. You know, I may be alone with that, but I consider the killing of a helpless/captured foe an evil act in general. Not one that will shift your alignment, but evil nonetheless. (On the other hand I'm totally liberal with manipulating the free will, which seems to be considered evil in some games-does that make me a fashist? )

A strong layer of enchantments could have made that guy a valuable ally.

Do we know jet why the Sarshun are so damn devoted? They're nothing but slaves themself as well, aren't they? Why do they think Nalorics world is so much better (Naloric and the red armored guys are pretty obvious-they where the overlords of the world, while the black circle used to be the accepted great religion).


----------



## Piratecat

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> I consider the killing of a helpless/captured foe an evil act in general. Not one that will shift your alignment, but evil nonetheless.



In truth, it was an execution, and it was necessary if we were going to prevent the world where people like Karp get thrown into ovens. Truly, we had no choice. No matter how many enchantments we put on the guy, if he ever slipped them _even once_ our world was doomed. It just wasn't an option.

The fact that Ernie took it upon himself to do it, when he could have abdicated the responsibility, was in many ways a character defining moment.

The sharshun are the servants of the Emperor, and they always have been. We're suspecting that this has a whole lot to do with Darkeye. We're starting to make some really disturbing guesses about who or what Darkeye is, and we're not liking them one bit.


----------



## el-remmen

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Without giving himself time to hesitate, Ernie draws his sword and moves behind Inivane.
> 
> “I’m sorry,” he says.
> 
> “Sorry for what?” asks Inivane.
> 
> Ernie stabs him swiftly through the back of the neck. The Sharshun does indeed die quickly, though not without a last expression of utter betrayal.




I live for this! 

You know those heavy dramatic moments where doing the good thing means doing the bad thing?  Yeah that.

Anyway, it is not as is they just decided this guy living was inconvenient and bashed his head in without a second thought.  It looks like Abernathy's Company had a discussion of decent length on the matter and if they could have done anything else they probably would have.  

And, if they feel really guilty about it they can always true res him later once the danger is permanently avoided.


----------



## KidCthulhu

I think of this as one of Ernie's defining moments too.  He had to die, that much was clear.  And if he had to be executed, it had to be done by the person who least wanted to do it.  That was the only way to make it right.  If it had been done by someone who felt the slightest satisfaction in it, it would be murder, not execution.  I think Prachett says something like this in one of the Diskworld Guard based books, and it always rang very true.


----------



## Everett

el-remmen said:
			
		

> I live for this!
> 
> You know those heavy dramatic moments where doing the good thing means doing the bad thing?  Yeah that.




I agree, it was really nice.  Not _nice_, but you get my meaning.  I only wish I hadn't been scrolling upwards before I read the post and accidentally seen: "Ernie stabs Inivane through the neck... the Sharshun does indeed die quickly," which had a way of wrecking the effect, you know.


----------



## Everett

And come to that, might I suggest that in light of this...



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> Ernie stabs him swiftly through the back of the neck.   The Sharshun does indeed die quickly, though not without a last expression of utter betrayal.





...that _this_ was a rather poor title for the episode?




			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> _*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 261*_
> *The Beans are Spilled*




Ja, perhaps you would agree?

On another note, has Dranko's and Morningstar's wedding happened in-game yet?


----------



## thatdarncat

I think so, I believe they were wed in the Greenhouse before time was changed


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

thatdarncat said:
			
		

> I think so, I believe they were wed in the Greenhouse before time was changed




But they are before time changed

(I love temporal humor).


----------



## Uzumaki

No, they're still unmarried. A couple of (Sagiro) posts ago, Morningstar was referred to as Dranko's "betrothed."


----------



## Everett

bump


----------



## Zaruthustran

Dibs on "Darkeye is an undead beholder".

Another guess: do we yet know who Moirel is? Could Darkeye = Moirel?


----------



## Piratecat

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> Another guess: do we yet know who Moirel is? Could Darkeye = Moirel?



This is our current theory, which Sagiro will neither confirm nor deny. If Darkeye and Moirel are one and the same, that means she's over 2000 years old back in our old time. That's a _bad_ thing.

Mind you, rumor has it that the halflings mistook her for a Morel mushroom and ate her after they found her wandering, mad. That's what we're hoping, at least, and as Ernie says "it isn't cannibalism if she isn't a halfling!"

The story hour will reveal more about Moirel reasonably soon. I'm just upset by how we came about the information.


----------



## Everett

I don't remember who Darkeye is / what role they play in the campaign.  Who is they?


----------



## Sejs

Everett said:
			
		

> I don't remember who Darkeye is / what role they play in the campaign.  Who is they?



Enigmatic higher-up of the Sharshun.  

Performed some very bad mental mojo on the in-game Sagiro, and is attributed to various other works of nebulous evil.


----------



## shilsen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> The story hour will reveal more about Moirel reasonably soon. I'm just upset by how we came about the information.




Ooh - sounds like there's an interesting story in there.


----------



## Piratecat

Sejs said:
			
		

> Enigmatic higher-up of the Sharshun.
> 
> Performed some very bad mental mojo on the in-game Sagiro, and is attributed to various other works of nebulous evil.



In addition, no one has ever seen her; she addresses people from behind a screen. We thought she was a medusa as a result, and she very well might still be. We're just guessing with the Moirel theory.

But she's bad news.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Bad enough news that Sagiro has informed us, in a metagame way, that she's not in our league right now and a direct frontal assault would be suicide (my paraphrase, not his).

Which only makes us want her more!


----------



## Destil

I've been thinking high level Illithid with levels of telepath myself, just because she messes with minds so well...


----------



## Everett

Well, I don't know, but I await the next update.


----------



## shilsen

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Bad enough news that Sagiro has informed us, in a metagame way, that she's not in our league right now and a direct frontal assault would be suicide (my paraphrase, not his).
> 
> Which only makes us want her more!



 Sounds like Sagiro doesn't trust you guys' abilities. So go on and prove him wrong with a full frontal assault. You know you wanna.

No, of course I'm not trying to get you killed. What would be the fun in that?


----------



## Sagiro

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Bad enough news that Sagiro has informed us, in a metagame way, that she's not in our league right now and a direct frontal assault would be suicide (my paraphrase, not his).
> 
> Which only makes us want her more!



I said no such thing!  Well, not recently.   I may have smiled innocuously when you mentioned finding and killing her, but that shouldn't serve as a deterrent.   

-Sagiro


----------



## el-remmen

Sagiro said:
			
		

> . . .innocuously. . .





I don't think that word means what you think it means.


----------



## Mishihari Lord

Piratecat said:
			
		

> In addition, no one has ever seen her; she addresses people from behind a screen. We thought she was a medusa as a result, and she very well might still be. We're just guessing with the Moirel theory.
> 
> But she's bad news.




My intuition tells me she's someone you know, maybe even a party member.


----------



## Everett

Mishihari Lord said:
			
		

> My intuition tells me she's someone you know, maybe even a party member.




I see where you're coming from, but I think it's unlikely to be a party member.


----------



## Miln

Mishihari Lord said:
			
		

> My intuition tells me she's someone you know, maybe even a party member.




A random thought: it is the Anti-Ell, or rather what Ell could have become in the re-written future b/c Morningstar "dragged" her into a reality where she shouldn't have existed. 

Kind of silly now that i write it down, but well, there it is.


----------



## Everett

Nah, not that silly.  It's definitely ponder-worthy.


----------



## Sejs

Miln said:
			
		

> A random thought: it is the Anti-Ell, or rather what Ell could have become in the re-written future b/c Morningstar "dragged" her into a reality where she shouldn't have existed.
> 
> Kind of silly now that i write it down, but well, there it is.





Lle?


----------



## Piratecat

Sagiro said:
			
		

> I said no such thing!  Well, not recently.   I may have smiled innocuously when you mentioned finding and killing her, but that shouldn't serve as a deterrent.



"You want to... assault... the sharshun stronghold?"

<He makes that face>

"Huh."

<He bites his lip.>

"I guess you could do that, sure! If you think you're ready for it."


----------



## Everett

Sejs said:
			
		

> Lle?




Hm?


----------



## Everett

shilsen said:
			
		

> Sounds like Sagiro doesn't trust you guys' abilities. So go on and prove him wrong with a full frontal assault. You know you wanna.
> 
> No, of course I'm not trying to get you killed. What would be the fun in that?




HEY... you're doing that one where you pretend to not be saying what you're sayin'!  You is sneaky!


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Bad enough news that Sagiro has informed us, in a metagame way, that she's not in our league right now and a direct frontal assault would be suicide (my paraphrase, not his).
> 
> Which only makes us want her more!




Do you suppose that she wears red armor?


----------



## Redwald

Nine...days...since...update.

Jonesing...so...badly...


----------



## Everett

MavrickWeirdo said:
			
		

> Do you suppose that she wears red armor?





I wouldn't SUPPOSE nothin' about it, bee-yatch!


----------



## Sagiro

Redwald said:
			
		

> Nine...days...since...update.
> 
> Jonesing...so...badly...



It won't be too long now -- maybe another 2-4 days, give or take _n_ days for unexpected family/work issues.  No promises of course, except for this:  it will be an extra-long post, probably 2-3 times longer than most, and with some juicy long-term-plot-related revelations.

No, nothing about Darkeye.  Sorry!  

-Sagiro


----------



## LightPhoenix

One big piece of evidence that could support Moirel = someone in party is that the stones recognized Ernie in the group's past, but just met him at whatever time now is.  My pet theory is that it's Yoba, based on the belt.

I'm not convinced Darkeye and Moirel are the same person.  My current theory is that Darkeye is whomever has the Crosser's Maze right now, since IIRC Aravis has starfields for eyes.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

Given the rainbow coalition of Eyes of Moirel, I'd always thought that perhaps Darkeye was the host to a _black_ Eye of Moirel, or perhaps an anti-Eye, if that makes sense.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 262*_
*Full Circle*

Aravis doesn’t waste any sympathy on the fallen Sharshun.  His first comment upon Inivane’s death is: 

“Oh, I _so_ want those books.  Condor’s books.”

To his credit, he doesn’t drool.

“Kibi,” says Dranko, patting the dwarf on the back.  “You just saved... everyone.  You stopped people from being thrown in ovens.  You stopped them from being enslaved.   You stopped every bad thing from happening that was going to happen.”

Kibi smiles with satisfaction.  He’s traditionally had poor luck with mind-affecting spells; his _charm monster_ spells in particular seem never to overcome his victims’ resistances.  But this time, a single-target _mass suggestion_ had done the trick marvelously well.

Ernie wipes his sword on a rag, the grass being too sparse here for cleaning the blade.  “Given what Inivane told us, maybe we should find the Spire and warn them that they really need to stay strong, and stay the course.”

“I’m not sure I understand everything,” says Flicker, “but at this point aren’t we risking screwing everything up just by being here?”

“Maybe we should just kill ourselves,” says Dranko.  Flicker can’t tell if he’s kidding or not.

“Dranko, no!” exclaims Ernie.  “We just need to figure out how to get home.”

“Maybe by killing him, we actually _did_ screw up the past,” muses Kibi.  That earns him some worried glances, but it’s hard to imagine that letting Inivane warn the Emperor Naloric would have been the right thing to do.

“Here’s the problem,” says Dranko.  “We have something big – maybe a town – on fire.   I saw it while I was up on the Mirror.  We should go investigate.  Buuuuuuut, by definition, if we do _anything,_ that might be messing up history.”

The Company mulls that one over for a minute.  Dare they act?  Dare they NOT act?  Morningstar momentarily gives them something else to think about, nudging the body of Inivane with her foot.

“Can we make sure he stays dead?”

“I guess we can make it more difficult to raise him,” says Dranko.  

“But can’t they use the miracle of _true resurrection_?” asks Yoba.

Dranko frowns at that.  

“Does anyone even know he’s here?” asks Flicker.  “I mean, who would know to even _try_ raising him.”

“And in the future,” says Dranko, “he’ll have been dead for too long.”

Ernie picks back up the thread about meddling with the past.

“We know there’s a big battle sometime, right?  Where the Spire defeats the Emperor?  Maybe we need to stick around for that.”

“But don’t we know that that battle was won _without_ us?” asks Flicker.

“No, we don’t!” says Ernie.  “Because of the stupid Masking, we don’t know the details.   For all we know, we might have tipped the balance in the Spire’s favor!”

Flicker throws up his hands.  “But... but Dranko’s saying that we might screw up history by doing stuff.  And now you’re saying we might screw up history by NOT doing stuff?  Which is it?!”

“If Inivane’s date is correct,” says Aravis, “the long war against the Emperor doesn’t happen for centuries to come.”

“Maybe we’re the ones who _start_ the Spire!” says Morningstar.

“Nah,” says Dranko.  “If it was, I’d have made sure we used the symbol I picked for the Oracle.”

“No you wouldn’t!” says Flicker.  “We know what the symbol is; we’ve seen it.  We would have told them to use the symbol we already know they picked!  Er... wouldn’t we?”

“I refused to be paralyzed by indecision!” Dranko barks.

There’s a bit more of this, which ends with the Company reaching a general agreement that history as they know it will take their actions into account, and that they shouldn’t just sit on their hands until they die of old age.  Morningstar intends to cast of _commune_ to try to clear some things up.

Aravis _disintegrates_ Inivane’s body, and they bury the ashes in a short service.  Inivane was at least an upstanding villain who fought for a cause he believed in.

After Inivane’s dusty remains have been interred (some distance out from the Mirrors, just to be sure), Morningstar turns to her fiancée and says, “you know, we’re not going to get married for centuries, now.”

“I will NOT wait that long!” says Dranko vehemently.  “In a thousand years I’ll be old and wrinkly, and you won’t want me.”

“I could marry the two of you right now,” says Ernie.

Kibi laughs.  “Then you’ll be able to say: ‘we’ve been married for a thousand years!’”

But the betrothed couple don’t ask for an impromptu ceremony just now.  Instead, Morningstar closes her eyes and enters the trance of a _commune_.

In her trance, an Avatar of Ell stands before her.  This one is not ragged and impoverished as was the last one, from a _commune_ cast in a future where worship of Ell had all but vanished. 

The Avatar looks curiously at Morningstar.  Customarily, the servants of the Goddess simply wait for the questions and provide what answers they can.  This time, it’s the Avatar who starts the questioning.

*WHO ARE YOU?*

“I am Morningstar.  I am from the future, and I was sent by Ell.”

*FROM THE FUTURE?  HOW IS SUCH A THING POSSIBLE?*

“We used the Eyes of Moirel and the Mirrors of Semek.”

The Avatar pauses and cocks her head, as if listening to another speak in her mind.

*THERE IS NO BETTER EXPLANATION FOR YOUR PRESENCE – SOMEONE SO POWERFUL IN THE MIND OF ELL, WHO HAS NOT EXISTED BEFORE NOW.   YOU DO NOT APPEAR TO BE A TRICK OR RUSE.   YOUR QUESTIONS WILL BE ANSWERED.*

“I come from a future where the Emperor was banished.  There was one who sought to change the world, by traveling back in time.   I am here to stop him from changing history.”

*YOU ARE A PLEASANT SIGHT IN THESE DIFFICULT TIMES.  ASK YOUR QUESTIONS*

“We just killed a Sharshun by the name of Inivane.  Have we done what we needed to do to restore time to its proper course?”

*I BELIEVE SO*

“Is there anything more that we can do to keep Inivane from being resurrected?”

*UNLIKELY*

“Will interacting with the people of this time cause our future to become damaged?”

*ONLY DRASTIC MEASURES WILL HAVE DRASTIC RESULTS*

“Should we contact the Spire and tell them what we know?”

*NO*

“Is there a way for us to return to our proper time?”

*YES*

“Do we currently have the means to return?”

*PARTIALLY*

“I was told by one such as you that Ell was dying.  Is that no longer the case?”

*SHE IS WEAK, BUT NOT DYING*

“Is there anything else I can do to aid her?”

*YOUR PRESENCE HELPS*

“Should we return Ernie’s Ring to Dingman’s Ferry, for Ernie to find in the future?”

*I DON’T KNOW*

“Do you know where the additional things we need to return to the future might be?”

*YES*

“Is what we need to return, in Kivia?”

*NO*

“On Harkran?”

*NO*

“On Nahalm?”

*YES*

“Thank you, dark lady.”

*I HOPE YOU FIND YOUR WAY HOME.  YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE.*


The first conversation engendered by Morningstar’s divine query is:  ‘what exactly defines “drastic.”’  The consensus is that the term means potentially world-changing actions, like seeking out the Emperor, or telling the Spire about how the future unfolds.  Everyone agrees that their long-term goal should be finding the way to return to their own time.  As for the short-term, there’s a fire that wants investigating.


* *


The Company _wind walks_ low to the ground, to reduce the chance of being observed.  Dranko occasionally zooms up a couple hundred feet to get a good look around, and so is able to report via an increasingly accurate series of visual snapshots, spaced about thirty seconds apart. 

The first snapshot:  a large force of distant bipedal creatures – perhaps two hundred, it’s hard to tell – marching _toward_ the fire from the north.  

Second:  The fire is coming from a large (burning) village, and the force of humanoids is just arriving there.  They’re riding mounts that don’t move like horses.  

Third:  There’s a pitched battle going on in a distinctly halfling town, and many of the outlying farms have been put to the torch.  The arriving force is halflings, some mounted on war-dogs.   It’s still hard for Dranko to tell whom they’re fighting against, but they’re clearly taller than the halflings.  As Dranko flies down for the final time to report to the others, he catches the word “burn” clearly from the melee – spoken in orcish.  

“We have to go help,” says Dranko.  “Halflings are being attacked, by orcs!”

All of the wind-walkers now fly up high enough to get a decent look.   There’s an extremely brief discussion about whether rendering aid will qualify as “drastic,” which is cut off by Dranko complaining.  “I want to kill things, dammit!”

“Hey,” says Flicker, pointing.  “Are those dwarves down there, fighting with the halflings?”

Sure enough, mixed in with halfling warriors are a handful of dwarves, laying waste to orcs with large axes. 

“That would explain the dwarves we found buried near Dingman’s Ferry,” says Morningstar, recalling one of the Company’s earliest adventures.  

They quickly form a plan.   The halflings and Kibi will join in the fighting.  In order to not to call undue attention to themselves, the others will wait in an abandoned and half-burned farmhouse at the edge of town.    The two groups are connected by a _telepathic bond_ and the ‘short fightin’ group’ runs to join the fray.

Alas, by the time all of this scouting and organizing and spellcasting gets done, said fray turns out to be in the mopping up stages.   Yoba, Flicker and Ernie do get in some satisfying orc-hacking, and Kibi is especially pleased with the results of an _unbuckle_ spell on a trio of orcs mounted on wolf-back, but the orcs are being routed and driven off.  Ernie and Yoba meet up at a crossroads near the center of town, sweaty from combat and lightly spattered with orc blood.  They grin shyly at one another, but Flicker, standing nearby, is spared any potential mushiness by a formation of halfling warriors that rounds a corner. 

There are about twelve of these halflings (along with three dwarves), girded in masterwork chain and marching in formation.  Ernie stares at them and blinks.  The soldiers likewise slow, peering curiously at Ernie.   Yoba opens her mouth in surprise but says nothing, gripping Ernie’s arm.  For at the head of this band of warriors is a middle-aged halfling who looks exactly as one might expect Ernie to look, were he about twenty years older.   His cloak is of green and gold, and has prominently displayed the holy symbol of Yondalla.   


* *

Over the _telepathic bond_, Ernie whispers urgently to the others.

“I think about to meet Wilburforce!”

“Well, go tell him ‘hi,’” says Dranko.

The halfling leader is staring as intently at Ernie as Ernie is at him.  The halflings and dwarves are pointing and whispering.  The leader walks his war pony closer and draws his sword, as the other halflings and the dwarves form around him in a protective aspect.  Ernie bows low to him.

“Oh, get up, get up,” snaps the halfling impatiently.  His voice is strong and commanding – and not Ernie’s voice, which wasn’t likely but still a relief.

Ernie straightens.  “Ernest Wilburforce Roundhill at your service.”

“I wasn’t aware that there was any halfling of that name,” says ‘Wilburforce.’

“It’s a very common name where I’m from,” Ernie improvises.

“And where is that?”

“A place called Appleseed.  Far, far from here.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

On his rooftop a few blocks away, Dranko hops down and uses his robe to assume the aspect of a tall halfling warrior.  Ernie continues.

“My colleagues and I are wanderers, and saw the smoke.  We thought you might need help, but it seems like you have it under control.”

“Wanderers?” asks Wilburforce, raising his eyebrows.  “Wandering where?”  He looks around him, then turns back to Ernie.  “We need to have a discussion .  There’s something going on here.”

Ernie takes a step back, turns to Yoba and whispers:  “We need to get out of here!  I think he’s my great great great great great great grandfather, and if he finds out who we really are, we could really... break... things.”

“Oh, I think things will be fine,” Yoba whispers back.  “This is fascinating!  Who gets the chance to talk with their great great great great great great grandfather?

Ernie looks up to find Wilburforce still staring at him, so he clears his throat.

“This is Yoba Stoutheart, and Kibi Bimson.  And this is... uh... Dranko Smoketallow.”

He adds this last introduction as Dranko strides forward, smiling.

“Are you all in disguise?” asks Wilburforce.

“No,” says Ernie.

“Then why do you look just like me?”  It’s much more an accusation than question.

“I couldn’t tell you,” says Ernie.  “Vagaries of bloodlines?   Blessing of Yondalla for especially handsome halflings?

“Or maybe,” adds Dranko, “your mother, your father, and his mother, all got together and...”

Ernie kicks Dranko solidly in the shin.

“You’ll have to pardon him,” says Ernie.  “Part of the reason he’s wandering is as penitence.  He insulted a high priestess, and now he’s trying to learn some MANNERS!”

“Er. Yes.  I am.  It’s true,” admits Dranko.

Wilburforce whispers to a halfling next to him.  It’s meant to be private, but with his absurdly keen senses Dranko is able to overhear.

“This could be a trick.  Spread out and see if the Sable Guard are coming.”

Two halflings immediately break from the group and stride away into the town.

“Any of your men hurt?” asks Dranko.  “Or any of the locals?”

“Many, I’m sure.  We have healers attending to them now.”

“I’m happy to help out!” says Ernie.

“Me too,” says Dranko.  “And hey, since we’re all friends here, what’s your name?”

The halfling commander says nothing for a moment, stroking his chin and staring unnervingly at Ernie. 

“Santo,” he says, having decided on trust.  “Santo Wilburforce.”

*Flashback, to more than two years ago.  The Company has returned from a short job, transporting an otyugh from Calnis to Tal Hae.  At the Greenhouse they make the awful discovery that their two Eyes of Moirel have burned themselves into Eddings’ eye sockets.   The Eyes commence spouting prophecy, mostly about the Ventifact Colossus, but they finish with words about ‘traveling nowhere’:

YOU HAVE THE FOCUS, IN WHOSE VEINS RUNS THE BLOOD OF SANTO. YOU HAVE THE OPENER, WHO BRIDGES THE LIGHT AND THE EARTH. YOU WILL STILL NEED THE TALISMAN TO PRESERVE YOUR SANITY. YOU WILL STILL NEED A SOURCE OF ENERGY, FOR WE WILL BE OTHERWISE OCCUPIED... *

Ernie’s eyes grow wide – here indeed stands the prophesied Santo, and his own ancestor of untold generations.  

Dranko stays cool.  “That’s a nice name.”

Santo ignores him.  “Come.  We will find a more private place to talk.  You will come with me.”

He motions, and his retinue surrounds Dranko, Ernie and Kibi before herding them down the street.  Along the way Santo stops briefly several times to coordinate and receive updates on the battle’s aftermath.  Dranko and Ernie manage to heal some of the wounded townsfolk as they walk.    

Over the _telepathic bond_ Dranko warns Morningstar:  “They’re sending out search parties, so now might be a good time for you to come out and join us.”

But Morningstar and Aravis are still unsure of the wisdom of all this meddling in what might be a delicately mended history.   Aravis in particular – given his unique physical characteristics – is worried that word of their presence here will make its way back to the Emperor.   As a result, those hiding in the barn return to _wind walk_ form and retreat quickly from the town.  They hide behind a nearby hill.  

“You’ll have to give him the thing before we leave,” whispers Dranko to Ernie has they’re marched through the streets.  

“Nuh uh!” protests Ernie.

“But it belongs to him.”

“It’s mine now!”

“But it has to end up on that statue, right?” chimes in Morningstar.  “Otherwise, how are you going to find it later?”

“Irrelevant!” says Aravis.  “It’s _already_ been found.”

Santo stops the group in front of a tavern that has survived the orcish raid without much damage.  One of his guards goes in for a couple of minutes, returns, nods, and Santo motions his guests/prisoners inside.  They are made to leave their weapons at the door, which they mostly do, though Dranko uses some sleight of hand to drop his more potent whip into his _widemouth pouch_ before handing over a non-magical one.  

The tavern is empty; Santo motions for the three of them to sit down.  Some light refreshment is brought in.  When all are settled and seated at a long table, Santo asks Ernie:  “How many of you are there?”

“Quite a few, but most are hiding outside the village.  We didn’t want to cause too big a commotion.”

“We’re professional monster hunters,” Dranko explains.  “Say, can I call you Santo?”

“Yes, you may.”

“You can call me Dranko.”

“Yes, yes I can,” says Santo dryly.  “Now, Dranko, on whose behalf do you hunt monsters?”

Over the mind-link, Grey Wolf groans.  “Why did we send him?  Why does he always end up doing the talking?”

“We never send him,” Aravis sighs.  “He just goes.”

Ernie sort of answers Santo’s question.  “We fight to help people in trouble.  We do it on our own behalf.”

“Do you often find people menaced by... monsters?” asks Santo, taking a sip of water from a mug.

“You’d be surprised!” says Ernie.

“And where do you do the majority of your monster hunting?”

“In and around Dir-Tolia,” says Ernie.  “We’ve come a long way since then.  It’s across the ocean.”

Santo steeples his fingers.  “I’m well versed in the geography of the Islands of Charagan.  On which island is Dir-Tolia?”

“It’s kind of far away,” says Ernie, squirming just a bit.  He’s not much used to this sort of extemporaneous invention of ‘facts.’

“Stop being evasive!” snaps Santo.  

“It’s across the Uncrossable Sea, okay?” says Ernie irritably.  

“And stop making up fanciful lies, also,” says Santo, rising to his feet and leaning forward across the table.  “Why do you think it is called the ‘Uncrossable Sea?’  

Aravis thinks over the mind-link (to the great amusement of the others):  “Because the Gods think it’s uncrossable.”

“I’m not lying to you,” says Ernie flatly.

“I’ve never seen this man lie, in the years I’ve known him,” says Dranko.  (If anyone in the mindlink notes that, just moments ago, Ernie claimed that they tend to monster-hunt around Dir-Tolia, they wisely keep silent).   “Plus,” continues Dranko, “this lady here is a Paladin of Yondalla, and she _cannot_ lie.  So, before you go making the claim that my friends are lying, you might just want to take a step back.  Treat us with the same respect we’re treating you, okay?”

Santo scoffs.  “I have not sensed much _respect._  I have sensed evasion, and half-truths, and fear.  You are all clearly hiding something.”

“The truth of the matter is, we’re on a very secret job,” says Ernie in a calmer voice.  “And _if_ I tell you too much, I will jeopardize the most important thing that’s ever happened on this world.”

Santo graces Ernie with a look of pure skepticism.

“On whose behalf are you _on_ this job?  I still don’t...”

“Yondalla’s!” shrieks Ernie, fed up both with Santo’s suspicion and his own need to dissemble.  “You want to ask her?”

Santo remains unperturbed.  “Yes, I think I’ll have that arranged,” he says.

“Please do.”

For a moment the two nearly-identical halflings regard each other, the air between them cold with tension.   Santo looks away and nods to one of his retinue, who casts _detect evil_ (negative) and _detect magic_ (whoa!) and whispers the results to Santo.

Dranko, who’s seen _detect magic_ cast enough times to know what’s going on, takes off the ring that prevents the spell from working on him.  The halfling caster’s eyes go wide again, and he amends his whispered report.

“They’re not kidding about the Uncrossable Sea,” says Dranko, barely managing not to smirk.

Santo sits up straighter.  “So, what brought you from Dir-Tolia to our part of the world?”

Morningstar, already uncomfortable with this whole meeting, essentially dictates Ernie’s response to that  one over the mind-link.  

“We had a mission,” says Ernie, “and we succeeded, but as a result of that mission we ended up somewhere we didn’t expect.  Now we’re trying to get back.”

“There’s a vast gulf we have to cross, and we don’t know how to do it yet,” adds Dranko.  

“We’re very far from home,” says Ernie.  “I’m sorry if we worry you, and we’ll go if we’re causing any sort of problem.”

Santo sighs and runs a hand through his hair.  “No, you’re not causing a problem... yet.  You’ve caused me some worry, though, I admit.  The Emperor has tried to set traps for me before.”

“I can tell you that we’re no friends of the Emperor,” says Ernie. 

“So they’ve heard of him in Dir-Tolia, then?”

“We’ve heard of him,” sighs Ernie, “and done nothing but try to stop his plans and schemes for years.”

Santo leans forward again.  “So, Ernest.  You really don’t have any idea why we look like identical twins?”

Ernie shifts nervously in his chair, but answers truthfully.  “I think we might be distantly related.”

“Given that there is – present company perhaps excluded – no travel between the Isles of Charagan and the lands beyond the Uncrossable Sea, how do you suppose that we are related?”

“I’m not sure,” says Ernie.

Santo stands suddenly.  “Right then.   I’d like you to come to Greenshire with me.  I need to return there, and I’m not done with you yet.  It’s just a few hours’ travel from here.”

“Do you want the rest of my companions to come?” asks Ernie.

“I’d be interested in meeting them.. Yes, they may all come.  It’s still early and we can be in Greenshire before sundown.”

After the others have left the tavern, and only Santo and Ernie remain, Santo leans in and whispers.

“Ernest, I appreciate that you have secrets to keep.  But I _know_ there is a connection between us, more than us being ‘distant relatives.’   I’m not quite prepared to tell you _how_ I know that.  I also have secrets.   Perhaps we will talk about it back in my home village, in private.”

Ernie nods, and they go out.


* *


The group that marches down the road to Greenshire consists of Kibi, Ernie, Flicker, Dranko, Santo, about twenty mounted halfling soldiers, and a half-dozen dwarves.   Dranko glances down at the dwarf nearest the front of the group, and his blood goes cold.  He has seen this dwarf before – dead and embalmed in a tomb not far from where they currently walk.   He relays this to the others mentally.

“That’s creepy,” says Morningstar. 

The dwarf, deep in his own thoughts, doesn’t notice for a few moments that Dranko is staring.  When he does, he stares back for a second before grunting, “I’m Hurthin.  Hurthin Hammersmith.”

Dranko pauses for a second; will a dwarf recognize an orcish name?  Ernie jumps into the gap.

“Ernest Roundhill, at your service.”

He bows, and Hurthin nods.

“Where are you from?” asks Kibi.

“It’s a long story.  Karth, originally.”

“Hey!” says Dranko.  “I almost got blow up once by Karthian Oil!”

“How’d you get your hands on Karthian Oil?” asks Hurthin.

“I didn’t.  Someone was trying to blow me up.”

Hurthin frowns.  “You know that stuff has been outlawed for decades.”

He says nothing as they walk a few more paces.  Then, sounding solemn, Hurthin tells them, “It’s been twenty-seven years since I’ve been in Karth.”

“Why so long?” asks Dranko.

Hurthin doesn’t answer for a long minute.  “To make a long story short, we paid for our rebellious ways, and I’m one of the lucky few who got out alive.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” says Ernie.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” grumbles Hurthin.  But under his breath, he adds, “Damned Emperor and his damned air demons.”

*Flashback to several years ago.  Kay, in her old home in Cyric, becomes aware of the meaning of the elvish poem her mother sang to her as a child.  The next to last verse goes as follows:

In the days of our slavery, we slew with the Warlord,
Bound like our spirits were bound, and the Dwarves fell before us.
The Hammer drove us to fight, even as it fell upon the earth-folk;
Though we were weak beneath the earth, the Warlord’s Maul gave us the strength of death.*

The verse is about the Yrimpa – air spirits.

Ernie thinks to the others:  “The Emperor enslaved the Yrimpa and made them kill the dwarves, remember?”

Everyone does.


* *


By agreement, the remainder of the party meets Santo’s group on a flat stretch of road halfway to Greenshire.  Snokas, with his unmistakably half-orcish features, agrees to have his hands tied behind him, as if he were a prisoner.  That will avoid awkward questions later.

Snokas is miffed that Dranko (looking like a halfling thanks to his _robe of blending_) doesn’t require similar treatment.  Dranko smirks and offers to hold Snokas’s rope. 

“Hey,” he jests.  “I can scratch my head.  Can you?”

“No, but I can kick you in the junk,” replies Snokas with a snort.  “They haven’t tied my feet, you know.”

Dranko takes a few steps back.

After three hours of walking, Ernie starts to recognize some coarse terrain features, and realizes that Greenshire must be built on the same land as Dingman’s Ferry.  They crest a final hill, and a large halfling town spreads out before them.  It’s easily ten times larger than the Dingman’s Ferry he knows.

Atop the hill, Ernie’s _belt of stability_ – Cranchus’s Gift – starts to tingle and grow warm.  Next to him, Santo brings his hands swiftly to his head as if stricken by a sudden pain, but he shakes it off and makes nothing of it.

“My belt’s tingling,” says Ernie over the mind-link.

“So that’s why you’re smiling,” says Dranko.

“Does Yoba know?” asks Flicker.

“For crying out loud, people!  It’s my belt, not my shorts!”

“I’m shutting down the _telepathic bond_ in five seconds if this doesn’t stop,” warns Morningstar.

Greenshire has a distinctly militaristic feel to it, with guards and soldiers in particularly high numbers.   When Ernie comments, Santo answers simply:  “orcs.”

The tingling of Ernie’s golden belt grows stronger as they enter the town, and grows stronger still as they march down a wide cobblestone street.   As they draw even with a side-street, Ernie looks down it and into a large plaza past the far end.   There’s a statue there, and though he can’t make out any details, he feels a powerful jolt from the belt as he looks at it.  He shares this revelation over the mind-link, and Dranko asks:

“Hey!  Who’s that statue of down there?”

Santo looks embarrassed as he answers, “That’s me.  I couldn’t stop them.  There was a battle many years ago, and we won, and they insisted on building that statue.  Funny, now that I think of it, it looks a lot like Ernie here.”

As they pass the side-street, the feeling in the belt start to fade a bit.

“Don’t you see?” thinks Dranko excitedly.  “The belt starts and stops here!  It never actually gets created.  It came back with us, and now it goes on the statue so we can find it in the future.”

“Then how can it be “Cranchus’s Gift” if it never actually got created?” asks Morningstar.

“We don’t have to leave it,” insists Aravis.  “Ernie already has it.  We’re an anomaly here!”

Santo leaves the Company outside under the guard of his soldiers, while he goes into Greenshire’s large town hall.   Twenty minutes later he comes back out.

“I have a place we can go and talk.” 

To Ernie alone, in a quiet voice, he adds: “Is there anything I might tell you that you wouldn’t want your friends to hear?”

Ernie shakes his head.  

The group heads back toward the plaza with the statue, and Ernie’s belt start to grow warmer again.  This time their route takes them along the edge of the plaza itself, and Ernie feels an actual physical pull on the belt, as if it were a lodestone attracted to an iron block.   Santo looks at him quizzically, then stumbles and almost drops to his knees.  Just as quickly he stands straight, and stares at Ernie for a second before walking on.

“I wonder if the statue is magical,” thinks Kibi.

“Cranchus could still be alive here,” thinks Ernie.  “He could have given the belt to Santo.”

Kibi perks up at the thought of meeting Cranchus.  Yes, they’re a long way in the past, but Abernathy lived to be 900, and dwarves as a rule live longer than humans.

Dranko wonders what would happen if he were to carve something on the statue, right underneath where they found the gold circlet back in the future.  They know that when they found it, there was no such carving.    He speculates that he’ll suddenly remember things differently.  Aravis disagrees; _he_ thinks Dranko will be _unable_ to carve anything, even if he tries.

Ernie resists the pull of the belt, and once again its warmth grows less as they move away from the statue.  A few minutes later they arrive at a large non-descript building.  Santo knocks, gives a password, and they are admitted into a stone edifice whose interior seems mostly to be one large meeting room.  Only three halflings and Hurthin accompany Santo; the rest of his entourage wait outside.  The halflings and dwarves sit in chairs, while the large folk sit on the floor.   More food and drink is brought in.

“So,” says Santo, when everyone is comfortable.  “Am I going to get anywhere trying to get more information out of you?”

“No,” says Aravis simply.

“Are you withholding information because you don’t trust me?  Or because you promised someone you wouldn’t tell?”

“No,” says Dranko.  

For a few minutes Santo grills the Company about the Emperor, but on that subject they really don’t have much to divulge.  Finally Dranko says, “Listen, are you ok with most of your friends leaving, so it’s just you and the dwarf?”

“Ernie said that there was nothing I could tell him that he wouldn’t mind the rest of you hearing.  He and you are very close, yes?  I feel the same way about those in this room.  These four are my loyal and close friends.  What you can tell me, you can tell them.  If you swear them to secrecy, they will keep your secrets.”

Morningstar doesn’t like that, and reminds the others that the Sharshun can read minds.   But Ernie opts for trust.

“The Emperor’s actions do not just concern the here and now.   He has used his sorcerous minions, the Sharshun, and powerful magics to try to affect other places and other times.  If we tell you too much, that might _cause_ the Emperor to win.”

“You’re saying that Naloric has a plan, but the simple act of telling me what that plan _is_ may cause him to succeed?  Is that right?”

“Yep,” says Ernie. “That’s what I’m saying.”

Santo rubs his temples, and takes a long drink of water.  

“Fine.  It’s clear that there are things you are highly reluctant to say, but not because you don’t trust me.  Rather, you fear some greater evil that will befall if you talk.   Fine.  I’ll ask questions, then, and you answer as much as you can.

“Do you know about the Black Mirrors?”

“The ones that flash?” asks Ernie.

“Yes, those.  What do you feel you can tell me about them?”

Ernie glances at Aravis before answering.  “They’re a magical convergence of some kind.  Powered by Earth Magic.  We don’t know how they work.”

“What is Earth Magic?” asks Santo.

“Wild Magic,” says Dranko.  “Dwarf Magic.”

Hurthin clears his throat.  “Santo, it’s a crock.  Dwarves don’t do magic.  You know that.”

Kibi opens his mouth to protest, but Santo saves him the trouble.

“Hurthin, I don’t think the normal rules of things apply to these people.  Speaking of which...” and he turns back to the Company.  “... are you really from across the Uncrossable Sea?”

“We come from a very different place,” says Aravis.  “We came through the Black Mirrors.  They’re a portal.”

“You can cross the Sea using the Black Mirrors?”

“No, not really.”

“Then where does it go?”

“Nowhere,” says Aravis, straight-faced.  

“Have you had anyone come through the Black Mirrors yet?”

“Like a woman named Moirel?” adds Ernie.  “Please tell my friends she wasn’t eaten.”

Santo fixes Ernie with an intense stare.

“Why do you ask about a woman?”

“Because....um... we’ve heard of a woman having traveled through them.”

“You’ve seen her, haven’t you?” says Dranko.  “How long ago was it?”

“About twenty years,” says Santo.  

“She came through then!” exclaims Ernie.  “With the Eyes!”

“Eyes?” asks Santo.  “Would you be talking about seven colored gems, rotating around her head?”

“That would be them,” says Grey Wolf.

“I’ll tell you,” says Santo.  “It was twenty-one years ago.  The Mirrors flash once a year, as I’m sure you know.  It is somewhat a tradition among the young and impetuous among our people...”

“... to run out into them when they flash,” finishes Ernie.

Santo nods, smiling.  “I had been running the Mirrors for several years.  The year I saw her, I was the only one who ran.  I thought I saw a ghost, which had never before happened.  I saw a woman inside the bright lights.  She had seven small colored gems around her head, in an orbit.  I was young, and impetuous, and... well, I thought I’d try to take one.  I reached out and tried to touch the orange one.  I woke some hours later with a pounding headache.  The halflings who were watching had seen nothing.  Ever since then, I have... felt... something.”

“Did she ever show up?” asks Dranko. 

“No.  I thought I must have dreamed her.  But that feeling has been in the back of my mind ever since.  The very nature of my being had been changed, though I didn’t know how.”

Santo’s voice has been rising through the story, and he looks straight at Ernie as he finishes.  

“Over the years the feeling has subsided but has never gone away completely.   But today I feel it as strongly as I did the day I reached out for those gemstones.  That feeling is coming from you, Ernest.  I felt it when you first looked down on Greenshire.  I felt it when you stood near my statue.  And here you are, a relative I’ve never seen or heard of, unable to tell me anything specific, and you look exactly like me.  _Why. Is. That?!_

Ernie looks imploringly at Aravis and Morningstar.

“In for a penny,” sighs Aravis.   But he holds up his hand to stop Ernie from answering, and says to Santo, “We fear word of our visit will get back to the Emperor.”

“I doubt that will happen,” says Santo.  “We are beneath his notice.  To him, we are just playthings for his orcs.”

“What kind of creature is the Emperor, anyway?” asks Dranko.

“I don’t know.  I’ve never seen him.  But I’ve heard the story of his father, Hagdan –  King Hagdan the Just.  A couple hundred years ago, I’ve read, King Hagdan of Harkran was seemingly overnight transformed.  He was a good man, running the kingdom wisely.  The next morning he was a monster, larger, changed in some way.  From that moment on, he sought to wage war.  And while he was killed by Queen Daynell Kalkas, his son Naloric took up his reign.  Naloric was like his father, I hear, and his armies have since conquered all of the Charagan Islands.”

“Why didn’t anyone overthrow him?” asks Dranko.

“Not for lack of trying.,” says Santo.

Hurthin speaks up.  “The dwarves tried.  Not long after they conquered Karth, we rebelled, and had our independence for about twenty more years.   Then... the air demons came.  Don’t know where they came from or what they were, but I’ve never seen anything so horrible in my life.”

Ernie hands the _belt of stability_ to Santo.   “Have you ever seen this before?”

Santo’s reaction is unusual.  Instead of taking the belt from Ernie, he flinches back.  “So strong,” he says.  He leans forward and takes the golden circlet with a trembling hand.  As he grips it, as both he and Ernie hold Cranchus’s gift, his eyes grow wide with wonder.  

“It goes on the statue, doesn’t it,” he says.  “It’s what I’ve been feeling all these years.   It goes on the statue.”

And as Santo speaks these words, Ernie hears in his mind the sound of waves crashing upon the shore, and the scent of brine fills his nostrils.  His heart is at peace, his promise to Brechen fulfilled at last.

* You are charged to look to your own safety, to let wisdom always guide you through the dangers life will set at your feet.  For in your veins, and no other’s, runs the true blood of a Wilburforce, and thus a link to the past is forged.  Do not let that life-blood be spilt without reason!  For before all is done, you must wear the circle, and you will come full circle, and only then can the Circle be broken.  Promise to do your utmost to keep this appointment, as your part in bringing back the life of Isabel Horn.*

“I thought I’d always have that promise,” says Ernie.  “But now I’ve come full circle.”

...to be continued...


----------



## Ashrum the Black

Sagiro, just wanted to say thanks for all the hard work on this wonderful story hour, and to let you know you forgot to update the threads title with the new date.

-Ashrum


----------



## Piratecat

Ashrum the Black said:
			
		

> ...and to let you know you forgot to update the threads title with the new date.



Got it!

I can't begin to tell you how cool this session was. Plot hooks tossed out eight, nine, ten years previously all went "KLUNK" into place. It was incredibly moving for us.

It's also a good example of how a DM sometimes has to say things out-of-game. We were really worried that anything we'd do would upset the past. Bless him, after 45 minutes of us fretting I think Sagiro told us that he wasn't going to ruin the fun of playing D&D just to screw us over. We were then able to relax enough to actually interact with the world and the NPCs, although we were still erring on the side of caution.


----------



## sniffles

Oh, this is awesome. I love time travel stories. I'm so behind now. I've got a lot of catching up to do!


----------



## energy_One

It seems to me there's still a question of why the belt was referred to as Cranchus's Gift. Or... did I miss something?


----------



## Zaruthustran

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Got it!
> 
> I can't begin to tell you how cool this session was. Plot hooks tossed out eight, nine, ten years previously all went "KLUNK" into place. It was incredibly moving for us.
> 
> It's also a good example of how a DM sometimes has to say things out-of-game. We were really worried that anything we'd do would upset the past. Bless him, after 45 minutes of us fretting I think Sagiro told us that he wasn't going to ruin the fun of playing D&D just to screw us over. We were then able to relax enough to actually interact with the world and the NPCs, although we were still erring on the side of caution.




Super satisfying post. And thanks for the note about the session. The frustration and caution came through in the narrative, but also the eventual openness to action. It seems that a time travel adventure is just asking for headaches, and that once the DM picks a certain paradigm he has to stick with it. Glad to hear that you guys are still having fun.


----------



## Thornir Alekeg

sniffles said:
			
		

> Oh, this is awesome. I love time travel stories. I'm so behind now. I've got a lot of catching up to do!



 No, no you are not behind.  Its time travel, you are ahead of the story by a few thousand years.

Great update, very satisfying and nice and long (is that what brought down the boards today?).  I am amazed by your ability to weave a story.


----------



## Everett

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Aravis doesn’t waste any sympathy on the fallen Sharshun.  His first comment upon Inivane’s death is:
> 
> “Oh, I _so_ want those books.  Condor’s books.”
> 
> To his credit, he doesn’t drool.




I LOVE that guy.


----------



## el-remmen

Nice long post - so long I almost forgot to turn on the TV to watch the Mets (hopefully) pound on the Phillies.   

I have some time travel stuff coming up in my story hour and the players had similar worries - but I handled allaying them in a different way.

Great work.


----------



## Everett

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “You’ll have to pardon him,” says Ernie.  “Part of the reason he’s wandering is as penitence.  He insulted a high priestess, and now he’s trying to learn some MANNERS!”
> 
> “Er. Yes.  I am.  It’s true,” admits Dranko.




Is it?  When did that happen?


----------



## Piratecat

Everett said:
			
		

> Is it?  When did that happen?



It didn't. Dranko was lying.


----------



## RangerWickett

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Nice long post - so long I almost forgot to turn on the TV to watch the Mets (hopefully) pound on the Phillies.
> 
> I have some time travel stuff coming up in my story hour and the players had similar worries - but I handled allaying them in a different way.
> 
> Great work.




Care to provide a quick overview? I'll be honest. Your storyhour's too far along for me to start reading now, but I'm interested in hearing tidbits.


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## el-remmen

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> Care to provide a quick overview? I'll be honest. Your storyhour's too far along for me to start reading now, but I'm interested in hearing tidbits.




Well, if Sagiro will humor us. . . I don't want to use his thread to talk too much about my own. 

So I put it behind an sblock.
[sblock]
But basically, the party traveled to a demi-plane where they met "The Tree that Grows Backwards" and they were given magical items as gifts from their future selves who met the tree and convinced it to help them in order completing the anomaly or else the fabric of the prime might tear - of course, something about the tree's difficulty thinking "frontways" made it impossible for it to tell them what they had said to convince him to help.

The campaign finale featured a running fight that takes place in past scenes (or suggested scenes) of the campaign through the present and then into the future (and back).
[/sblock]


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## MavrickWeirdo

sniffles said:
			
		

> Oh, this is awesome. I love time travel stories. I'm so behind now. I've got a lot of catching up to do!




Thats alright so are they


----------



## wedgeski

Great update, Sagiro, thanks! I'm interested in knowing something about the time travel angle: once you had decided that the party was going back in time, did you then sit down and decide on what rules you were going to play by, or make it up as you needed to? Did you for example decide that paradoxes were impossible (the universe finds a way etc.), or even contemplate what would happen with specific items, such as Ernie's belt, if Ernie gave it away, or kept it, or put it on the statue, or whatever..?


----------



## Tamlyn

Wow! That's just amazing. Very impressively laid out and executed.


----------



## carpedavid

Sagiro - you just made my brain explode. Excellent work.


----------



## Miln

carpedavid said:
			
		

> Sagiro - you just made my brain explode. Excellent work.




It's not every day that someone thanks you for expoding their brain...


----------



## Sagiro

wedgeski said:
			
		

> Great update, Sagiro, thanks! I'm interested in knowing something about the time travel angle: once you had decided that the party was going back in time, did you then sit down and decide on what rules you were going to play by, or make it up as you needed to? Did you for example decide that paradoxes were impossible (the universe finds a way etc.), or even contemplate what would happen with specific items, such as Ernie's belt, if Ernie gave it away, or kept it, or put it on the statue, or whatever..?



I agonized pretty good ahead of time about my time-travel mechanics, vis-a-vis paradoxes and continuity issues.  In the end I came up with a simple set of "rules" that were (fairly) easy for me to keep track of.  (I won't spell them out here, for fear of spoiling things.  But, yeah, I did decide that the universe simply wouldn't let paradoxes happen.)  The real fly in my temporal ointment was the Greenhouse, but I solved that via a kind of "Gordian Knot" solution that will later become evident.  

As for what Ernie would do with the Belt: I just took it on faith that Ernie would still have it with him in time for the time travel, and bring it to Greenshire.  Let's face it -- a lot of my plot is a house of cards that _could_ come toppling down if the PC's take certain specific unexpected actions.  I just have to pick my spots in terms of managing risk, and so far, so good.  I readily confess to a moment of smug satisfaction combined with immense relief when one of my players said to me:  "Wait a minute.  Are you telling me you knew this would happen _nine years ago?!_"   Because the answer was, no, I didn't _know_.  But I sure did _hope._ 

-Sagiro


----------



## Dawn

Sagiro said:
			
		

> I readily confess to a moment of smug satisfaction combined with immense relief when one of my players said to me:  "Wait a minute.  Are you telling me you knew this would happen _nine years ago?!_"   Because the answer was, no, I didn't _know_.  But I sure did _hope._
> 
> -Sagiro




Geez.  And I have trouble keeping my plots straight month to month.......

I have to say the prophecy writing you and PKitty do are truly inspirational.


----------



## wedgeski

Sagiro said:
			
		

> I readily confess to a moment of smug satisfaction combined with immense relief when one of my players said to me:  "Wait a minute.  Are you telling me you knew this would happen _nine years ago?!_"   Because the answer was, no, I didn't _know_.  But I sure did _hope._



Good answer. Thanks.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

Piratecat said:
			
		

> It's also a good example of how a DM sometimes has to say things out-of-game.



I once created a magical "factory" that had been buried under rock and earth for a thousand years.  The PCs followed some tunnels down into the complex, and eventually came to the front door (from the inside).  They spent a good half-hour trying to figure out a way to open the doors, until I finally had to tell them out-of-game that there was nothing but rock on the other side.


----------



## Redwald

Sagiro said:
			
		

> _*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 262*_
> *Full Circle*
> 
> _snip_




Ahhhh...cracktacular.

Thank you for the fix, Doctor Sagiro.


----------



## Everett

*Alas, the dreadful inevitability...*

Bump.


----------



## KidCthulhu

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Nice long post - so long I almost forgot to turn on the TV to watch the Mets (hopefully) pound on the Phillies.




Rem, if you want more posts from Sagiro, you might want to lay off on the Phillies pounding.  They were Sagiro's childhood team!  Mentioning that you're a Yankees hater, that might get you an update.


----------



## el-remmen

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Rem, if you want more posts from Sagiro, you might want to lay off on the Phillies pounding.  They were Sagiro's childhood team!  Mentioning that you're a Yankees hater, that might get you an update.




I know they are, thus the dig. ;-) 

But at least the Phillies slapped the Yanks last night.  

One of the announcers on the Mets game last night asked, "Who do you think the Mets fans will root _for_ in the Yanks vs. Phillies games?"

And Keith Hernandez replied without doubt or hesitation, "The Phillies"

Which is saying a lot since Philly is in our division, so their wins mean more in the long term than anything the Yankees can do.


----------



## Lord Pendragon

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Mentioning that you're a Yankees hater, that might get you an update.



I am not a big baseball fan myself, but I would like to point out that my brother wears a Mets ball cap, not particularly because he loves the Mets, but specifically to express his hatred of the Yankees.

Now then, can we have an update, sir?


----------



## blargney the second

I don't like baseball at all... does that help? 
-blarg

ps - I'm actually just not a fan of spectating sports - I'd rather be out there *doing* it!


----------



## Plane Sailing

I hate the Yankees!

(who are they anyway?) 

I've had a bit of catching up to do, but it is great seeing so many past threads being drawn together at last. Interesting too to see major enemies not so much defeated as sidestepped (the diviner back in 'wrong' future, the red armoured general likewise)

Cheers!


----------



## Tamlyn

My wife's a Yankees fan. Summers around our house are not pleasant. There've been a few times we've almost had to divorce for irreconcilable differences. I'm ashamed to admit that I root for the Mariners.


----------



## Everett

*Bump.*

This old man, he played one, he played knick-knack on my thumb / with a knick-knack paddywhack, give a dog a bone...


----------



## Lazybones

Like another poster above, I came late to the party; I tried reading the story a few years ago but it didn't grab me (too complicated, difficult to follow).  This last week, though, I'd finished my own SH, so with little to occupy my brain I downloaded the PDFs onto my USB drive to read during slow stretches at work. 

Needless to say, I was very unproductive this week. 

Having just finished, I'll echo the general kudos on the fine quality of the story. While the writing has gotten stronger over time, the plot twists and the way that many of Sagiro's hooks and threads kept recurring (often in jaw-dropping ways!) were excellent throughout. The characters are very clearly defined, although having read the entire story in a short span of time, I did think that Gray Wolf has sort of faded into the background recently; obviously Dranko hogs the spotlight somewhat but I've found that characters of his type always tend to draw a lot of strong sentiment (either love or hate!) from readers. I find myself drawn in and interested in what happens to these people, which is a mark of good fiction.  

The PDFs are excellent, by the way, StevenAC. I liked the sidebars and the little graphics for letters, player handouts, etc. These story hours can be difficult to read as downloaded text, so I definitely am a fan of compilations. 

My only regret is now that I'm caught up, it looks like the pace of the posting has slowed up some (understandably so, from what Sagiro's posted of his RL situation!). But I did want to thank Sagiro and his players for sharing.


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Lazybones said:
			
		

> obviously Dranko hogs the spotlight somewhat but I've found that characters of his type always tend to draw a lot of strong sentiment (either love or hate!) from readers.




You've never met PC in person have you? Let's just say he has his own way of encouraging the other players to "take it to the next level".


----------



## StevenAC

Lazybones said:
			
		

> The PDFs are excellent, by the way, StevenAC. I liked the sidebars and the little graphics for letters, player handouts, etc. These story hours can be difficult to read as downloaded text, so I definitely am a fan of compilations.



Glad you're enjoying the PDFs!  And thanks to everyone who's sent appreciation both in this thread and by email over the three years     that I've been doing this now.  Most especially, of course, Sagiro himself...

P.S.: The latest chapter of the Story Hour is now complete, bringing the story once again right up to date.


----------



## Everett

Lazybones said:
			
		

> I did think that Gray Wolf has sort of faded into the background recently




Well, his plot piece is over; their adventure currently puts Ernie into the spotlight more.

-----

"Acting abnormally reasonable since 2004."


----------



## Piratecat

Greywolf's actual player is a slightly quiet guy, and he plays Greywolf as more private and self-contained than the rest of are. The combination of the two, I think, result in less Greywolf focus in the story hour. In contrast, however, the _player_ doesn't fade into the background at all during games. He's an amazing guy.

One of the things that Sagiro does really well is focus on individual character arcs, skipping from one character to another. It's clear that Ernie is in the middle of one right now, what with Santo Wilburforce - but we'll soon find out that he isn't the only one. It's a DMing trick of Sagiro's that I also try to emulate, with mixed success.

We're experiencing withdrawal right now; with the wedding of Greywolf's and Morningstar's players, we didn't play at _all_ in June.  Twitch.  Twitch.


----------



## Duncan Haldane

Piratecat said:
			
		

> We're experiencing withdrawal right now; *with the wedding of Greywolf's and Morningstar's players*, we didn't play at _all_ in June.  Twitch.  Twitch.




to each other?  

If so... Wow, I didn't know that was in the works.  

Congratulations any which way!


----------



## Piratecat

Right! Player marrying player, as opposed to Morningstar and Dranko. And nah, the table dynamics aren't actually weird.  

Along with Fajitas and wisdomlikesilence, and Sagiro and Kodiak, that makes a couple of marriages to come out of our games.


----------



## Everett

*Fun with echoes...*

“Grey Wolf, what is it with you and chopping off heads?”

“We should always chop off the heads,” answers Grey Wolf. “Fewer surprises that way.”

“I’ll bet it’s the sword,” says Dranko, referring to Bostock. “I told you it was evil.”

“Actually,” says Bostock, speaking clearly in Grey Wolf’s mind, “I fail to understand the need to decapitate those already vanquished, unless you have specific expectation that otherwise they’ll spring back to life.”


----------



## Everett

bump


----------



## el-remmen

It has been a little more than a month. . .   Damn that real life of his!


----------



## Nyarlathotep

Hmm... I'm sure it was this story hour where Arravis was explaining planar theory to Dranko using an onion as an analogy, but when I D/L the thread I can't seem to find any mention of it (aside from a "does it have something to do with onions" from Dranko). Anyone remember whereabouts the whole onion as planar theory post is?


----------



## Piratecat

It would have been recently, just after Kay disappeared while we were in Het Brannoi.


----------



## Redwald

Nyarlathotep said:
			
		

> Hmm... I'm sure it was this story hour where Arravis was explaining planar theory to Dranko using an onion as an analogy, but when I D/L the thread I can't seem to find any mention of it (aside from a "does it have something to do with onions" from Dranko). Anyone remember whereabouts the whole onion as planar theory post is?




It might have been lost in the board crash.  Here's the bit, reconstructed from StevenAC's compiled PDFs :



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> "But that can't be possible!" Dranko protests. "We fixed Het Branoi."
> 
> "Remember when we were talking about the notion of multiple universes?" says Aravis.
> 
> "Yeah," says Dranko. "You told me that there's Hell *and* the Abyss. I remember."
> 
> "No, no, this is something else," says Aravis. "Here. Think of an onion."
> 
> Dranko raises his eyebrows. "Okay..."
> 
> "The onion has all these layers," continues Aravis. "The onion is our universe. Each of the different layers are different planes. Now, if I have another onion over here, it's a different onion, right?"
> 
> "Yes..." says Dranko, not seeing where this is going.
> 
> "You live in here, in this first onion," says Aravis. "And Kay is in another onion, probably very close to ours."
> 
> "Kay is on the other onion, but the same layer of onion skin as we are on ours?" says Dranko, scratching his head.
> 
> "With different onion us-es!" says Ernie, thinking he gets it.
> 
> Aravis shakes his head, thinking maybe this wasn't the best example. "Please," he says, "whatever you do, don't discuss this theory with other mages. At  least, not with my name attached."
> 
> "But it's brilliant!" says Dranko. "You've explained planar theory in a way I understand!"
> 
> "Aravis's Onion Theory! You could be famous!" says Ernie.
> 
> "That's what I'm afraid of," says Aravis.




The exchange is in Part 2, Chapter 7 of StevenAC's PDFs, at pages 300-301.

By the way, Sagiro, *I'm jonesing!  Hook a brutha up!*


----------



## MorningstarofEll

Oh..that made me laugh.  I was here lurking because we are FINALLY playing again tonight and I am waiting for Greywolf's player to get out of work so we can head over to Sagiro's.  

MISS GAME BADLY. 

Anyway, it seemed rude to read congratulations and not respond so I finally joined in order to say Thanks!




			
				Duncan Haldane said:
			
		

> to each other?
> 
> If so... Wow, I didn't know that was in the works.
> 
> Congratulations any which way!


----------



## Everett

Update, yes?  Update good.  Me eat update raw with cosmic roast.


----------



## Serenity

*Wow..uh..Wow!*

I just spent this week reading the entire Story hour (Thanks StevenAC for the PDF!!) and all I can say is Wow!  Thank you Sagiro and crew for some great entertainment.  You all definitely show us how it can (and should) be done!

Can't wait for the next update!!


----------



## KidCthulhu

MorningstarofEll said:
			
		

> Anyway, it seemed rude to read congratulations and not respond so I finally joined in order to say Thanks!




Hey, welcome!  Come on in, the water's fine.


----------



## Brogarn

Having never read this story hour, I've been spending the past week off an on reading the archives of .pdf's. I just finished Part One and had to come here and say, Wow, Sagiro, you really are a _Rat Bastard_. 

So, what does that say about me that I'm insanely jealous that I don't get to play in his game? Some deep dark inner masochist that has never presented itself before. I must ponder this over coffee and the beginning of Part Two.


----------



## Spatzimaus

Brogarn said:
			
		

> So, what does that say about me that I'm insanely jealous that I don't get to play in his game?




It says you're normal.  Well, relative to the rest of the people around here, anyway.

Here's the thing, and it's going to sound vaguely stalker-ish.  A while back, I realized that whenever I made a new character or big NPC, the first rules of thumb I'd use were based on the story hours on these boards.  First, I'd think how this character would fit into Abernathy's Company, or the Defenders of Daybreak, or Wulf's gang, or the Savage Sword of Meepo, or the Halmae guys, or on rare occasions the guys and gal from the Drunk Southern Girls thread.  (Oh, and the original Return to the ToEE meatgrinder, of course.)  Then, I'd think of how this character would contribute in the encounters these groups had faced.

I made a Half-Elf Psychic Warrior, then immediately wondered what she'd have done against the Necropede, or when the DoD were ambushed in their _mansion_ by Soder's pet.  I made a Halfling Paladin, then wondered how badly Wulf would have tormented him.   I made a Psion (Constructor) and wondered how useful he'd have been in Het Branoi.  And so on.

The reason is that these story hours excel in two (not unrelated) ways:
*1> The DM.*
Anyone up with generic encounters, facing a lone orc guarding a chest in a 10x10 room.  We talk about the ratbastardliness of certain DMs, but really I'm just impressed with anyone who can continually come up with encounters that confound experienced players without being simple unwinnable deathtraps.  Sure, there exist certain threads-which-shall-not-be-named, but no one would ever claim these guys are just sponging off everyone else.  Besides, it makes me feel better about using concepts, err, "inspired" by these story hours in my own world.
*2> The Players.*
Many of these have become the Iconic characters to me, the ideal that groups should be aiming towards.  It's not because they have good stats or are optimally built; I've just played with way too many people who just viewed their characters as just sets of numbers to screw around with.  If the character had any personality at all, it was just a carbon-copy of the player's own.  This clearly isn't the case in the good story hours.

Anyway, don't feel strange about being jealous.  It's perfectly natural.


----------



## blargney the second

Spatzimaus said:
			
		

> *2> The Players.*
> Many of these have become the Iconic characters to me, the ideal that groups should be aiming towards.



Too true!
-blarg


----------



## Tamlyn

Ok, since we're still waiting on another update, how about some more excerpts from Ernie's journal?


----------



## Piratecat

We play tonight, and I'll seize the opportunity to make appropriately pithy comments to Sagiro about timely updating. Mind you, I'm not exactly on the side of the angels with this - it's a crunch week at work, and I'm not done with my own story hour update - but hopefully I'll spur him on to more writing!


----------



## KidCthulhu

Spatzimaus said:
			
		

> I
> Many of these have become the Iconic characters to me, the ideal that groups should be aiming towards.




Ernie for Iconic Halfling.  Cast your vote now!  Tell your congressman that you want a return to the jolly, round-bellied fellows of JRR's dreams, not these wierd, skinny Kender-wanna-bes.

A vote for Ernie is a vote for hairy toes, waist coats and _second _breakfasts!


----------



## el-remmen

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> A vote for Ernie is a vote for hairy toes, waist coats and _second _breakfasts!





What about Elevensies?


----------



## Brogarn

I think I'm the only one in the universe that vastly prefers the new halflings as opposed to the old hobbit wannabes. Ah well. Anyways...

I just read "I cannot remember the password". Were those bread rolls _vorpal_, perhaps? Because that was just evil. >.<

Oh, and the party needs a bard to spread the song "I am the Very Model of Halfling Personality."


----------



## Everett

Me have no comment until update.  Update scatter mana across the skies.  Update sit in eye of raven as it struts across the barnyard.  Update lie in shadow on cave-wall, in buffalo on plains, in point of spear, in eye of needle.  Is easier for rich man to enter kingdom of heaven than for un-updated thread to work on needlepoint.  Yes?

Update good.

*******
Lex: What was it my father always said to me?
Kitty: 'You're losing your hair'?
Lex: No, not that...
Kitty: 'Get out'?

-Superman Returns


----------



## Spatzimaus

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Ernie for Iconic Halfling.




Well, I can see this one both ways.  The Tolkien-style Hobbits were utterly unsuited for adventuring, which was basically a key point in the stories, and so they had to change them for D&D.  On the other hand, I just think they took it way too far in 3E by making them half-Kender.

I think the various Halflings in this SH are good examples of the range of the middle ground.  Even Ernie would never quite fit in in the Shire; he doesn't seem to mind fighting, he gets along well with other races, and he acknowledges that the battle of Good vs. Evil is more important than what's for dinner (well, most of the time anyway).  But contrast with Flicker and Yoba?  Or how about TomTom?  (Not this Story Hour, I know, but it's most of the same people involved.)  To me, Flicker and Yoba would NEVER fit into the Tolkien mold.  And TomTom's focus on money, spying, psionics, and squirrels?


----------



## Piratecat

We played last night, an "interim" session where we trained (to 17th level!) and cast communes (man, are we in trouble, but it's that vague sort of trouble that means something horrible is coming although you won't be able to identify it until it is possibly too late) and made items. Lots and lots of items. In fact, we spent 235,000 gp in making items - woot! We're now poor but mighty, festooned with magic geegaws.

Which is sort of a shame, considering that we ended the game learning that someone stole from us the evil cauldron that summons null shadows...


----------



## el-remmen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> we ended the game learning that someone stole from us the evil cauldron that summons null shadows...




Jeez, man!  I just borrowed it!  I'll have it back next Tuesday.  That's the last time I borrow an evil artifact from you!


----------



## StevenAC

Brogarn said:
			
		

> Oh, and the party needs a bard to spread the song "I am the Very Model of a Halfling Personality."



I can't help but agree with you -- and I'm still waiting for an Original Cast Recording... 

As you'll see in the next chapter, I ended up doing a number of G&S-inspired songs around that time.  I blame KidCthulhu for the encouragement. 
But I think "I am the Very Model of a Halfling Personality" remains the best of them.


----------



## spyscribe

Piratecat said:
			
		

> ...Which is sort of a shame, considering that we ended the game learning that someone stole from us the evil cauldron that summons null shadows...



I wouldn't worry too much.  I'm told that they're friendly.


----------



## Piratecat

Spyscribe, it's fair to say that I'm hoisting something _besides_ my middle finger.

Can'tcha feel the love? The sympathy from certain left-coasters is palpable!


----------



## Everett

Hey PCat, any word on when we may get a fresh installment?


----------



## Brogarn

Woot. I'm completely caught up! Thanks StevenAC!

Err... crap. I'm completely caught up. Now what am I supposed to do at work?

*twitches a bit*


Thinking about taking up an ad in the paper.

SWRPer ISO RBDM. Enjoys peril, plot twists, and wind walks on the beach. 10 yr. hanging plot hooks pref. Contact XXX-XXXX


----------



## Sagiro

Hey there.  Sorry again for the long delay, which occured for two main reasons:

1. My wife and I became hooked on "Lost," and for a while we spent every evening watching an episode or two until we were fully caught up.  

2. 17 months straight of averaging 5 hours of sleep per night finally caught up with me, and lately I've been unable to stay up as late as I used to.  The two hours during which I often worked on the Story Hour, I now usually spend sleeping. 

But I do still chip away at the story, word by word, tape by tape.  I'm still only about a year behind.  And in real life I continue to run the game a couple times a month, as the story barrels relentlessy towards its still distant yet seemingly horrifying conclusion.

Wait, did I say "horrifying?"  I meant "exciting."  Exciting, I tell you!    



_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 263*_
*A Wedding,  A Slaughter, An Introduction*


Santo and Ernie stare at one another for a few seconds while the others look on curiously.  Santo breaks the silence by exhaling loudly through pursed lips.

“This is like those colored gems, isn’t it,” he says.  “Dwarf magic.  Earth Magic.”

Hurthin Hammersmith, standing at Santo’s shoulder, snorts in derision.   Dwarf magic, indeed!  There’s no such thing as...

Kibi smiles, casts _xorn movement_, and sinks into the ground.  Hurthin leaps back in shock.

“Holy boulders!  What the hell was that?”

“A dwarvish wizard,” says Dranko.

Hurthin blinks, and squints at the ground through which Kibi vanished.  A few seconds later Kibi pops back up a few feet away.

“Well, okay then, I take it all back,” says Hurthin.

Someone points out that, if Santo is going to put the golden circlet on the statue for Ernie to find in the future, then there’s no good reason to call the thing ‘Cranchus’s Gift.”  That engenders some brain-twisting discussion about the nature of time and causality that not even Aravis can make sense of.   Santo excuses himself part way through, desiring to see his family.  The debate ends without resolution.

* *

So, for the first time in a while, the Company finds itself in a safe haven of sorts.  They have a lead, albeit vague – Morningstar’s _commune_ indicated that _something_ on the island of Nahalm could return them to the future.   But that future isn’t going anywhere, so to speak, and thus in the bustling town of Greenshire, which centuries hence will have given way to the tiny village of Dingman’s Ferry, the Company settles in for a couple months of vacation and training.  

It is the very next day that Santo, without fanfare, affixes the Ring of Stability to the arm of his statue.  Without anyone telling him, he places it on the exact spot where the party has found/will find it in their own time.   Dranko and Morningstar hold hands, watching as Santo connects past with future.

“You know what?” says Dranko.  “I want to get married here.  Right here, before anything else happens to delay things.”

Morningstar smiles in surprise.  “Ell doesn’t even know who I am here,” she reminds him.

“She’ll figure it out!” says Dranko.  “She’s pretty smart.”

“Our families aren’t here,”  Morningstar points out.

“We’ve got the rest of the Company.  Hey, I promise, when we get back home, we’ll have another ceremony and invite everyone.  But we’ve been putting this off for far too long.  We can have Ernie perform the ceremony.”

Santo turns to them.

“The Black Circle is the only legal religion – it’s been that way for decades, since Naloric conquered Charagan following the death of his father, Hagdan Skewn.  But Yondalla is still here, all around us, and a wedding in Greenshire would honor her, halflings or not.”

And so, after three weeks of hurried preparations,  Ernie marries Dranko and Morningstar on a clear evening under a sky ablaze with stars.   He’s had the best smith in town forge a pair of wedding rings from one of the gartine planks he still carries in his _bag of holding_.  

“They resist time,” Ernie tells them.  “It seems fitting.”

Standing before a large assemblage of halflings, and with all of the rest of the Company in the wedding party, Ernie joins the two in matrimony.

“Yondalla’s grace is about having a place, a home, and protecting it.  What’s special about my friends is that while it seems we’re never home, we’re also _always_ home, because each of us is a home for the rest.  Dranko and Morningstar, you have built a home together in each others’ hearts, and in the hearts of those who love you.  May Yondalla make you fruitful, and may her shield always protect you.   Also, may Delioch and Ell look down upon you and smile at the worthiness of their servants, worthy both to Them, and to us.”

Morningstar and Dranko kiss under the stars, and the halflings cheer.  Aravis finds himself crying.

“I’ve never been to a wedding before,” he whispers to Kibi standing nearby.

Dranko beams at his new bride.  “You’re now entitled to fifty percent of all the loot I’ve ever stolen from the party.”

The celebration goes on deep into the night and the following morning.   Ernie imbibes a good deal more than is good for him, and thus emboldened asks Yoba for a dance.  Afterward, still within her earshot, he slurs to Dranko, “The... the problem is, she’s got to back and help her own people.  If I asked her to marry me, she’d have to stay here, or I’d have to go there.”

Yoba pretends not to have heard.

“Plus,” continues Ernie, “I can’t ask her until she’s met my parents, and we can’t do that right now!”

“Aren’t your ancestors good enough?” asks Dranko.

Aravis, whose own parents were killed by bugbears, looks alarmed.  “You mean, I can’t get married unless my bride-to-be meets my parents?”

Ernie looks at Aravis.  “There’s always _speak with dead_,” he says.

“Thaaaaaat’s enough,” says Yoba, swooping in.  She grips Ernie’s shoulder and leads him firmly away.



* *


The next day Ernie wakes with a pounding hangover.

“I know there’s an orison for this,” he moans at breakfast, “but I can’t remember what it is.”

Dranko fixes him up, and Ernie goes from bleary to anxious.

“Did I say anything... embarrassing... last night?” he asks Dranko.  

Yoba overhears but merely says “I didn’t hear anything.”

“I thought you couldn’t lie,” says Dranko.

“Who says I am?”

Ernie looks sheepishly at Yoba.  “You’re a patient and tolerant woman, and I’m lucky to know you.  Er... I _was_ kind of an idiot last night, wasn’t I?”

“I’ve seen worse,” says Yoba, smiling.

“I hadn’t had good halfling ale in a while,” Ernie explains.  “I think I’ve had enough for now.”

“You’ve had enough for several nows,” laughs Yoba.


* *

For a week or so after the wedding, nothing much exciting happens in Greenshire.   Kibi and Dranko do conspire for the dwarf to chisel “Kibi was here” on the foot of the Wilburforce Statue, via flagrant misuse of _xorn movement_.   And Dranko and Morningstar settle on a new family name:  Brightshield.  

One morning, soon after Ernie’s _heroes feast_ has ended, there comes the sound of a loud horn blaring over the quiet streets of Greenshire.  

“It’s the orc-warning horn!” exclaims Ernie.  And indeed, within moments the town is bustling with activity and shouts.  

Dranko pops a last bite of buttered roll into his mouth, turns to Morningstar, and comments, “Nothing says ‘marriage’ like beating up bad guys.”

Into Grey Wolf’s mind speaks the sword Bostock.  _I’m so close!  I wish to hew these evil orcs!  Wield me in battle!_

A very brief discussion follows in which someone counsels caution – too many area of effect spells, and word will get back to the Emperor that the mostly-ignored halflings have powerful wizards.  Dranko counters that if no orc escapes, no one will learn anything.

The halflings are rushing out to meet the onslaught of orcs.  The humanoid force numbers in the hundreds and is spread out along a long line, so Santo orders the Company to take the center to meet the orcish vanguard.  


* *

The orcs are about to have a pretty poor day.   

For as long as any of them can remember, the halfling lands have been a sort of gifted playground for the orcs, granted them by Emperor Naloric.   That the halflings have lasted so long is a testament to their superior organization and fighting prowess, born of a desperation to survive.   Even so, many halfling villages have been razed by marauding orcs, and Greenshire has the been the target of occasional raids for decades.   They know that the halflings don’t have many wizards among them, and maybe expect a _magic missile_ here and there, possibly a _flaming sphere_.  

Aravis opens up with a crackling _chain lightning_ that causes 14 orcs to explode.  The one survivor pulls up in horror, turns, and flees screaming back through the ranks of onrushing orcs behind him.  The rest of the Company then rushes in to join the melee that has now been joined all along the advancing line.  

It cannot be said the orcs learn an important lesson about what powerful adventurers can do to lowly humanoid grunts.  Oh, they learn the lesson, but it’s not important _per se_ because none of them survive.  Yoba and Ernie chop them down left and right, while Dranko and Flicker operate as a flank-n-sneak attack duo to devastating effect.  Morningstar kills as many of them with her potent _fire shield_ as with her weapon.   Snokas, who already comes complete with a healthy hatred for orcs, lays waste with his dual-wielded picks.  

Grey Wolf, despite the exhortations of Bostock, casts a new spell he’s researched:  _summon the pack_.  Three dire wolves and a dozen more ordinary wolves appears and start tearing into the orcs.   Kibi, not to be outdone, summons a large earth elemental who immediately smashes half a dozen orcs to paste.  

It’s ugly.  It’s grasshoppers-in-a-_blade barrier_ ugly.   The Company moves up and down the line inflicting casualties by the dozen.  Ernie actually kills a bunch with _castigate_:  “Shame on you for picking on halflings for no good reason!  Go HOME!”

But they can’t, because they’re dead.

“Now that’s a stern talking to!” says Dranko.  

Aravis has _dimension doored_ behind and above the orcish lines, so that he can pick out and eliminate the orcs who try to flee.  And Grey Wolf, having summoned his wolves, draws Bostock and starts laying down the smack.    Orcs fall before him, and as he hews the head from a particularly ugly specimen a bloom of powerful blue light erupts from Bostock’s blade.   The voice of the sword sounds clear in Grey Wolf’s mind.

“At last!  AT LAST!  At last, I’m... still in the sword.  Well, I’ll make the best of it.  But I was hoping I’d finally emerge from this cursed prison.”

“I was _trying_,” says Grey Wolf.

“And I appreciate it!” answers Bostock.  “Clearly there must be something more we have to do.  But this is not the time to talk – there are still more orcs to slay!”

As Grey Wolf continues to chop down orcs, the full powers of Bostock come to his mind, and his pulse quickens as he realizes its potential.  

>> _Bostock is now a +5 keen defender, and it grants the maximize spell feat to Grey Wolf, usable 3/day and only on spells channeled through the sword._


* *

“That was excellent!”

Santo and the Company meet outside the town after the battle.  The halfling leader is flushed with exertion but obviously pleased with how things went.

“I wish all the villages around here had a set of... of you, to help with defense. “

Back in Greenshire, after the Company helps with healing the wounded from the combat, Santo joins them for drinks in the Rollicking Rabbit, the only tavern in town with ceilings high enough for humans to stand straight up.    Santo can hardly stop talking about the Company’s fighting prowess, which is well beyond anything he’s seen before.   But eventually talk turns back to Santo’s experience in the Mirrors, and the Company’s own travels through them.

“Do you realize,” says Dranko, “that Ernie’s ancestor Santo here met Grey Wolf’s grandmother, Moirel, in those very mirrors?”

Santo nods.  “My own grandfather remembers the Mirrors being built.  It was seventy-odd years ago now, when the Emperor’s men came to the area.   It was a huge endeavor, and many halfling villages for miles around were razed.   For all that effort, the Black Mirrors were abandoned not long after they were finished.”

“They sent Moirel through,” says Aravis.  “When she didn’t come back, and nothing happened, the Emperor must have decided the Mirrors were a failure.”

Grey Wolf is silent through all of this discussion, which is not unusual.  But in his head he hears the voice of Bostock.

“Grey Wolf,” says the sword, “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done.”

“You’re free, right?” asks Grey Wolf.

“I was hoping that by ‘free’ it would mean ‘free from this sword.”  Though I have all of my memories back, this appears to now be what I am.  I don’t know if there’s a way to get me out, but as time passes I find my current state quite satisfying.”

“Who _are_ you?” asks Grey Wolf.

“My name is Sir Tennin Bostock.  I was... am... a holy warrior of Palamir.  It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.  Your friends, on the other hand, have a peculiar attitude, particularly in regards my alignment.  You may wish to insulate yourself from it, in the future.  Though they do have a light-hearted spirit that you seem to lack.  Even in my former state, I noticed that you have a dour and pessimistic attitude that does not match your heroism.”

“Yeah,” agrees Grey Wolf.

“I think you should act with more confidence, more bravado,” suggests Bostock.

Grey Wolf just nods, smiling.   When Dranko notices his glassy-eyed look, he smirks.

“So, still talking to your evil sword?  Have you slaked its insatiable thirst for blood yet?”

“It’s baffling, really,” says Bostock.  “Your comrades continue to insist that I am evil, when the truth is that I am just the opposite.   I am only here due to the machinations of evil Vinceris-worshippers.”

“Vinceris?” asks Grey Wolf.  “I’m not familiar with the name.”

“God of assassins and treachery,” Bostock explains.  “He’s only a demigod, really, hardly worth the name.  But you are not familiar with the Kivian pantheon.   Perhaps someday we can go back to Djaw, and we can winnow that den of killers and thieves.”

“I would enjoy that,” says Grey Wolf.  “But you still haven’t told me how you ended up in a sword.”

“I was captured, and my essence was put into this blade.  They were hoping to have themselves a mighty weapon, and given my power and reputation that wasn’t such a strange thing to think.  But I foiled them.  I suppressed myself, denying them the full power the sword could bring to bear.   It could only be brought out by someone worthy, and that would appear to be you.”

“I’m honored,” says Grey Wolf, bowing his head.

“I was wielded for many months by a blackguard of Vinceris, who thought that by using me in battles he could draw out my power.  Right idea, but I resisted.  And eventually he was defeated in battle by some kind of tiger-monster, who afterward kept me as a souvenir on his wall until you came along.”

Grey Wolf notices now that the rest of the Company is staring at him, awaiting an explanation.

“Sir Bostock is a paladin,” says Grey Wolf.   “A holy warrior.”

“Get out of town!” exclaims Dranko.  “_Sir_ Bostock?  He’s a noble?  And now we’ve traded one full-sized paladin for two tiny ones?”

“Paladins of Palamir are afforded the title of _sir_," says Bostock, “but we are not nobility.”

When Grey Wolf relays this, Dranko replies, “Yeah, well I’m a ‘Sir,’ _and_ I have a land grant, so at least I outrank the sword.”

Bostock chuckles in Grey Wolf’s mind.  “I don’t understand the motivations and priorities of your friends.  They are a mysterious lot.”

...to be continued...


----------



## Fimmtiu

Uh oh. Bostock is far too nice and polite -- he must be a bad guy. No other explanation.


----------



## Vargo

Nice to have you back!

I understand about the Lost addiction.  While you're at it, let me warn you that Battlestar Galactica (the Sci-fi channel series) is an AWFUL hackjob and not worth even bothering to ever watch.  No sirree, don't bother with it.

Ever.

It's truly awful.

You'll hate it, really!

(Am I trying too hard?)


----------



## LightPhoenix

Heh, BSG is the closest thing to drivel you'll ever get!  Really!  It is!

...

Theory time... I bet one of those Orcs DID escape, and that's why Greenshire "becomes" Dingman's Ferry.  Or is that too morbid?


----------



## Ashrum the Black

Actually, I'd bet the party was very very thorough. Which unfortunately could have worked against them. When nobody comes back from the raid on the poor little halfling villiage ... well, wouldn't you get a wee bit curious and send either a small scout force, or an overwhelming army to stamp out any resistence? 

Either way, bad things come back to the town, and the PC's can't stay forever.

-Ashrum


----------



## Pyske

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Ernie actually kills a bunch with _castigate_:  “Shame on you for picking on halflings for no good reason!  Go HOME!”
> 
> But they can’t, because they’re dead.
> 
> “Now that’s a stern talking to!” says Dranko.




*chuckle* Nice. 

So, I know you've all been close friends for a long time.  Still, was there any awkwardness with playing the Morningstar / Dranko relationship?  Did you go out of your way to be sensitive to the real relationships at the table, or was it never much of an issue?


----------



## Everett

I think this has been answered somewhere recently (and it's nothing to do w/the update, forgive me) - but - at the start of the campaign, were the PCs made with point buy or by rolling up stats?


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Everett said:
			
		

> I think this has been answered somewhere recently (and it's nothing to do w/the update, forgive me) - but - at the start of the campaign, were the PCs made with point buy or by rolling up stats?




I'm 99% certain when the PC's were made up, it was with 2nd edition rules...


----------



## Everett

And pt. buy didn't exist then?  Never played 2nd ed.


----------



## Zaruthustran

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> Theory time... I bet one of those Orcs DID escape, and that's why Greenshire "becomes" Dingman's Ferry.  Or is that too morbid?




No, it's not the orcs. Didn't you notice the bit about Santo loudly proclaiming the prowess of the heroes? Halflings are a chatty bunch.

The whole "no witnesses" plan falls apart when you leave one entire half of the battle's combatants not only alive, but actively singing your praises. 

-z


----------



## Everett

bumpin' on down the road...


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Things got a bit quiet around Enworld.  Did everyone go to GenCon?

GW


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 264*_
*Exit, Pursued by a Dragon*


It has been over one hundred years since Naloric Skewn slaughtered the elves of the Greatwood and took Kinnet Vulthani as his capital.  After razing most of the exquisite elven buildings and cutting down swaths of ancient trees, he ordered the construction of a towering stone fortress which would be his seat of power.  Now, high above the surrounding forest, in a stark throne room lacking in the traditional opulence of royalty,  the creature Guztha stands humble before his Emperor.   Towering above him on a raised throne of obsidian the mighty Naloric, fell ruler of Charagan, takes a sip of wine from a cup carved from an elven skull.  

*"You smell them, don’t you?”* says Naloric.  

Guztha is one of a small cadre of servants to whom Naloric has bestowed especial honor and power.   Black lesions crawl on his skin, a mark of extraordinary favor.  That he is allowed to stand in the same room as Naloric, that Naloric is actually _speaking_ to him, demonstrates his exalted status.

“Yes, my Lord,” says Guztha.  “You know that I do.  It is faint, but there is no mistake.”

Naloric leans forward in his throne.  *“They need to brought into the fold, like the others.   You know that things can be... confusing... in the beginning.”*

Guztha shudders.  He remembers.

*“I did not expect that there would be any more Blood-touched...”  * says Naloric, frowning. 

Guztha says nothing.  If he agrees, he is acknowledging that the Emperor is not all-knowing, which would be a mistake.  If he disagrees... well, one does not disagree with the Emperor.

*“No matter.  Take Shivertooth.  He is young and lacks experience in the field.  Find these Blood-touched and return them to me by any means necessary.  If they resist, kill them and bring back the corpses, as whole as possible.”*

Guztha bows his head.  “Yes, my Lord.”

*“They are near Condor’s Folly, possibly in the company of orcs or halflings.  Do not become distracted – the Blood-touched are all that matter.  You will have no difficulties locating them.  You are brothers, after all.”*

Guztha nods and turns to go.

*“One more thing. There is something different about these, different from you, different from the others I have... blessed.  I don’t know what, but I sense that the difference is important.   Do not fail me, Guztha.”*

“I will not, my Lord.”

Guztha turns and hurries from the throne room.



* *



All good things must come to and end, and the Company’s stay in Greenshire is no exception.  It is nearing sunset on a day almost a week removed from the battle with the orcs, when the bell once again starts ringing a clamorous call to arms.

The Company rush out of the Rollicking Rabbit expecting another invasion of humanoids, but no orcs are in evidence.  Many halflings are pointing upward, where a small shape can be seen swooping high over the town.  Dranko squints into the dusk and thinks he discerns a dragonish shape, with the speck of a rider upon it.

The flying creature drops and lands abruptly about a quarter mile outside of town, spurring the halflings to muster at Greenshire’s eastern edge.   Morningstar casts a _telepathic bond_ that includes the halfling militia leader Torbold, so that the party can keep tabs on what’s going on without making themselves evident to the new arrival.

It’s not long before the heavy thumping of a walking dragon can be heard approaching the town.  It looms large in the failing light, a dull yellow winged lizard with dagger teeth and a snaking tail.  From Torbold’s description, it’s the same species of dragon as appeared near the end of the Battle of Verdshane. As it reaches the line of stalwart halflings, the dragon’s rider calls out:

“Make way, in the name of the Emperor!”

When Torbold relays that to the Company, there is quick agreement that it’s time for the party to make a hasty getaway.   Santo Wilburforce steps to the front of the halfling line and speaks to the newcomer.

 “What is your business, sir?

“None of yours,” says the rider.  “Make way.”

Morningstar casts _wind walk_ on half the party, while Torbold narrates.  The rider has leapt gracefully off the dragon’s back to the ground.  He wears a black military uniform.

“We don’t want to call any more attention to your village,” thinks Dranko to Torbold.  “If they ask, we’re headed east.”  (In fact, they’re heading to Nahalm which is to the south-west.)

A second _wind walk_ gets the remainder of the Company into traveling mode, and they take off at sixty miles per hour, staying as low to the ground as possible.  Torbold wishes them luck, and promises to continue to relay what’s happening with the dragon and its rider.

“The guy is asking questions,” thinks Torbold, even as the party starts to put miles between themselves and Greenshire.  “I’m not right up front, but I can sort of hear what being said.  He seems angry.  Yeah, he’s asking about you, all right.  I think he means you, anyway.  He doesn’t have a description.  I hear bits and pieces.  He’s asking about... strangers, someone unusual.”

“Interesting,” says Dranko.  “He’s not asking about wizards, or people who slaughtered the orcs.”

There’s a pause while Torbold listens intently.

“Somehow he’s figured out more about you.  Someone squealed, maybe?  Now he’s asking questions more specifically about you.   He wants to know more about someone with star fields for eyes.”

“He may be reading minds,” says Dranko.

“That would make sense, given the way he’s asking questions,” says Torbold.  “If that’s the case, he’s going to find out a lot about you.  Santo’s talking to him.  He’s making up some story about you and the orcs.  He doesn’t seem to be worried about having his mind read.”

There is a brief flurry of discussion about going back and killing this black-clad soldier, but that would _clearly_ tip off the Emperor, so the plan is quickly discarded.

“Hm,” says Torbold.  “The guy seems satisfied.  Hold on.  I think he believes Santo.  Ah.  Ok, it sounds like Santo is claiming you arrived with the orcs, and were bad mouthing the Emperor, and he fought you off.   The soldier seems sure that you were just here, which is stretching Santo’s story.  Hm, he’s walking away.  I’ll try to follow, but I don’t want to get too close.  He’s not showing any sign of attacking.   Ah, stupid dragon.  Crushed some rain barrels with his tail.   Oops, he’s getting back on the dragon, and is taking off.  He must have been satisfied.  He’s spiraling up, not in any particular direction.  Crap, I’ve lost him in the dusk, couldn’t tell the direction.”

Troubling as this all is, the Company is pleased that the dragon didn’t just destroy the town out of spite.   Soon enough they are out over the ocean, flying at top speed toward Nahalm while settling in for a boring five-hour trip.  Kibi is especially inclined to grumble, as being a) in the air, and b) above water, is no place for a dwarf.    The full moon shines out in an open sky as below them the dark waves undulate gently.

Hours later they reach the northern coast of Nahalm, though there’s no sign of the town of Kynder Hold (not surprising).   Even at its fastest a flying dragon would have been left behind long ago,  but still there’s a sense of unease among the Company.  They fly ten miles further inland before landing and making camp, and set about reviewing their anti-scrying possibilities for the night.   Dranko suggests the _divination sink_, but it’s finally stopped working.  Aravis, whom the dragon’s rider seems to have identified by description, will wear an _amulet of nondetection_.   

Coincidentally, just as they start wondering if the dragon will find them (or, more realistically, how long will it take), a dark shape passes in front of the moon high above.

“Crap!” exclaims Dranko.

“That was fast,” adds Flicker.

 “We should prepare to fight,” says Aravis, and Dranko agrees.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Grey Wolf uses a wand to get Aravis flying, while Morningstar makes him _invisible_. The others start hurriedly casting buff spells.   There’s a loud whooshing sound from nearby, and the heavy thud of the dragon landing somewhere out of sight.

A voice comes out of the darkness from the direction of the dragon’s landing.

“Put down your arms.  I wish to talk.”

“Ok!” shouts Dranko.  “Go ahead and talk!”

Guztha wonders to himself how this will go.   These people have some formidable magic abilities, clearly.  Where did they come from?  Why hadn’t the Emperor known about them before now.   Maybe he had, and this is a test for him?   Strangest of all, there are many of them, and yet only two are Blood-touched.   Perhaps, having grown in power, they have enslaved a cadre of servants.

“I’m going to approach,” says Guztha.  “You would be wise not to attack me.”

Aravis responds to that by casting _greater arcane sight_.  

“Is that because of your dragon?” asks Dranko.

“Among other reasons, yes,” says Guztha.

“How’d you find us?” asks Dranko.

Guztha strides into the Company’s clearing.   He appears human, just over six-feet tall, a dour and soldierly looking fellow holding a short sword.   His skin is olive, and covered with strange dark lesions that crawl across his hands and face.

Kibi affects _xorn movement_ and sinks into the ground.  Snokas moves to protect Morningstar while Ernie inches closer to Yoba.

Invisible and hovering above the ground, Aravis peers intently at the soldier with his _arcane sight_.   He has two magical auras upon him – one is allowing him to _detect thoughts_, and the other is an illusion spell that covers his whole body.  He also has a spell-like ability with which Aravis is wholly unfamiliar, and when Aravis concentrates on that ability, he gets a waft of concentrated Evil.

“Drop the illusion,” he says sternly.

Guztha looks up, straight at the invisible Aravis.  The lesions on his skin quicken their movement.

“You might want to look into some kind of skin care options,” says Dranko.

Guztha looks away from Aravis and stares intently at Ernie.  Then he points, first at Ernie, and then back at Aravis.

“You.  And you.  You are coming with me.  The Emperor very much wishes to speak with you.”

“Well, he knows where we are,” says Dranko.  “We can probably fit him in on Friday.”

Guztha was prepared for many things, but this kind of impudence toward the Emperor is simply unthinkable.

“Are you coming willingly or unwillingly?” he asks through clenched teeth.

Aravis and Ernie do start moving towards him, but Guztha holds up his hand.

“Stop.  I wish first for you to divest yourself of weapons and magical items.”

“Um....” says Aravis.  “No.  I don’t think so.”

_I figured it would come to this._

“In that case,” says Guztha.  “I suppose we’ll figure out how you became Blood-touched in the post-mortem.”

And with that, the hostilities begin.  Grey Wolf pegs Guztha with an _enervation_ that drains away a small amount of strength.  Guztha hardly seems to notice, as he focuses his attention on Aravis.  The lesions on Guztha’s face start to squirm riotously, and Aravis feels a palpable force of Evil strike him, similar to that of the Evil Book in Mokad’s library, and more recently from the black goo in Het Branoi.

Pustules rise and burst all over Aravis’s skin, and he grimaces in pain and disgust.  And before anyone can react, Guztha takes a quick step into the shadows and melts away.

Aravis _dimension doors_ about fifty feet up and a couple hundred feet in the direction of where the dragon landed.  He sees that dragon is still a good sixty feet further, and flapping its wings, preparing to take to the air.  

Yoba casts _protection from evil_ on Ernie, while Kibi starts summoning some celestial owls.   Aravis then reports that the dragon has gone airborne.

Ernie, also flying, rises upward and spots the dark shape of the dragon in flight.  He casts a _blade barrier_ directly in the dragon’s space, but as Aravis sees from his vantage, the dragon is entirely unaffected by it.

Morningstar follows this with a _darkburst_ on the dragon, but as she’s several hundred feet away, she cannot tell if it had any effect.

“Hey Flicker,” says Dranko.  “Jump on my back.”

Flicker does so, after which Dranko flies upward, straight toward the dragon.  

“What are you doing?” asks Flicker nervously.  “Are you mad?  We’re going to end up in its mouth!”

“Actually, if this works, we’ll end up in his belly.”

“WHAT?!”

Aravis sees that the rider has somehow gotten back onto the dragon, which is circling around toward the majority of the party.   

_How convenient._

He casts _maze_.  On the dragon.  The huge lizard vanishes from under the rider, and Guztha plummets a hundred feet into the scrub below.  Grey Wolf and Yoba take off in that direction.  

“Stay with me,” says Dranko to Flicker.  “We have to get eaten when that thing returns.”

Kibi’s celestial owls arrive but there’s no enemy in sight.  Kibi points in the direction of where Guztha fell, and the owls swoop over.   Kibi _dimension doors_ over there as well, making his best guess as to the landing spot of the dragon rider.  Aravis flies over the general area but can’t spot Guztha in the moonlight.

When Kibi appears, he finds that the he didn’t take the hilly terrain into account, and drops ten feet to the ground.  Before he can get up, he sees a humanoid shape emerge from the shadows and stand over him.  Guztha feints with his short sword, Kibi flinches predictably, and Guztha uses the opportunity to land a perfect sneak attack.  

The dragon reappears in the air, only seconds after his trip into the _maze_.  Ernie flies forward and pegs the dragon with a _flame strike_.  Morningstar does likewise, and follows it up with a quickened _searing darkness_.   Smoke rises from the dragon’s body.  Snokas fires his bow up at the dragon but his arrows mostly bounce off its hide.

“Flicker,” says Dranko.  “I want you to look horrified, like you don’t want to be eaten.”

“I AM horrified!” shouts Flicker.  “For just that reason!  You’re gonna share the good part of this plan with me at some point, right?”

“Sure,” says Dranko.  “We’re gonna fly into its mouth.  It’s gonna swallow us.   When we’re good and deep in its guts,  I’m going to activate Step’s immovable rod, and you’re going use your cape to _dim door_ us out of there.”

Flicker gulps, wonders if Dranko has taken “chewing” into account as part of the plan, and sees that they’re now at dragon-mouth level.

Aravis, alerted to Guztha’s presence by Kibi’s cry of pain, casts _reverse gravity_, with the lower bound of the effect a few feet off the ground.   This means that Guztha is caught in the effect, but the prone Kibi is not.  Guztha doesn’t bother to grab on to anything, but falls back up into the air.  He’s like an evil yo-yo.  At the top of the gravity column he tumbles gracefully into a fighting stance, upside-down, hovering.

Grey Wolf casts _reciprocal gyre_ on Guztha, who doesn’t even flinch.  (Which is probably an indication that he doesn’t have too many spells active upon his person.)  Kibi casts a quickened _coldfire_ straight up at the rider and dragon both, follows it up with an empowered version of the same, then quickly sinks back into the ground.

Guztha can't hide his worry.  These people are even more powerful than he had guesed at first.  Naloric will not be pleased if he returns empty-handed, but he should prepare for escape just in case.  For now, though, the fight is not over.  Shivertooth has never been in a combat like this before, but he should still be a force to be reckoned with.   And at this very moment, there are better places for him to be...

Aravis sees the rider melt into the shadows again.  He think his foe is using an effect like _dimension door_, but he doesn’t recognize the specific ability.

Shivertooth surveys the battlefield, and recalls some of his battle lessons.  _Your greatest advantage is flight.  Your opponents will be on the ground, and you will be in the air.   From there, your breath, your greatest weapon, can be used to its best advantage.   If one foe takes flight, don’t waste time with it, but get it back on the ground if you can.  Get your enemies clustered close, breathe, and fly away.  Repeat until they’re dead.  If they scatter, try picking one up, flying high, and dropping them._

To Dranko’s great frustration, the dragon doesn’t try to eat him.  Instead it casts _dispel magic_, ending Dranko’s flight spell and sending him and Flicker wafting downward (thanks to a _feather fall_ item).  

“Change of plans,” says Dranko as they land.  “Here, take this.”

He presses the _immovable rod_ into Flicker’s hand.

“But...”

“You can still fly, with your armor.  Get yourself eaten, use the rod, and dim door to safety.”

“But...”

“No time to waste!  Get going!”

Flicker sighs, activates the flying ability of his _celestial armor_, and takes off.

The dragon endures another pair of _flame strikes_ from Morningstar and Ernie, cast at long range.   Most of the others look about for the rider but see nothing, while Flicker flies toward Shivertooth.  Aravis sees that the Dragon has performed a wingover maneuver and is now headed back toward them.  He moves a bit and targets the dragon with a _prismatic spray_ that sears the target with acid.

Kibi is underground, but Scree is scouting, poking a sapphire eye up through the ground.

“Scree, what’s the dragon doing?”

“Er... flying?”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Flying toward us, looks like.  Coming in a bit low.  I can’t see any details – in this light the dragon looks like a silhouette.  A bunch of folks are all standing near each other  above us, and the dragon’s headed toward them.”

“Perfect,” says Kibi.  He pops up out of the ground and casts a wide _wall of force_ directly in the dragon’s path.  

Snokas and Morningstar are standing back to back, scanning the area for the elusive dragon-rider.   Suddenly Guztha is standing right in front of Morningstar, sword poised to strike.  Snokas’s recent training as a devoted defender kicks in, as he catches a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye.  Even more quickly than Guztha can strike, Snokas whirls and grabs Morningstar, spinning her out of harm’s way.  Unfortunately for him, that presents his back to Guztha, who carves him up like a turkey.  

The dragon swoops in.  Flicker is hovering directly in his path, unable to decide if he wants to be eaten or not.  It’s a moot point, as the dragon ignores him, knocking him aside as it angles toward the concentration of targets below. 

_I should get five of them in the blast.  That’ll thin out their ranks a bit_.

Shivertooth breathes a mighty cone of lightning that travels about twenty feet before impacting the _wall of force_.  

_What the...?  Oh, crap!_

Shivertooth tries to veer to the side but there’s not enough room.    CRUNCH!  The side of his snout and the base of one wing are crushed against the wall by his own momentum, as Shivertooth comes to a complete halt.  With a squeaky finger-on-clean-glass kind of sound, he slides down the wall and lands in a heap on the ground.

Dranko snorts.  “You’re an embarrassment to dragons everywhere.”  

Kibi placed the wall with enough room beneath its lower edge for human-sized head clearance.  Yoba and Ernie (who has drawn Beryn Sur) run forward and attack the felled dragon.

Morningstar’s eyes have gone wide at Snokas’s sudden heroics, or maybe it’s the sight of the shortsword that was seconds ago poking through Snokas’s chest.  She cast _heal_ on him.

“Thanks,” gasps Snokas.

“No, thank _you!_.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Morningstar then quickens a _dimensional anchor_ and nails Guztha, who is surrounded by its tell-tale green glow. 

Flicker lands and joins in the attacks on the dragon, while celestial owls hoot and bounce off its scales.  Meanwhile Dranko flies down to stand several feet from Guztha, where he trips his opponent with his whip before missing with the follow-through attack.  Aravis casts a _chain lightning_ on Guztha, but despite being on the ground he’s still remarkably nimble.  He manages to twist his body and actually use Dranko for cover, eluding all damage.

“He’s like the blood fox!” shouts Dranko.  “Try _magic missile!_”

Grey Wolf quickens a _true strike_ and swings Bostock, channeling a _greater fireburst_ though the sword.   The sword bites deep, but Guztha manages to avoid the fire damage all together.

*“That’s the spirit!”* cries Bostock.  *“Keep at it!  He can’t evade forever!”*

Kibi quickens a _ray of enfeeblement_ and pegs the dragon, draining a whopping 11 points of strength, then _summons_ a huge earth elemental.  But even so weakened, the dragon manages to avoid being grappled by the creature.

Guztha cries out something in a strange tongue.   Shivertooth starts to pull himself along the _wall of force_, slowly.  Weakened, with its snout crushed and bleeding, one wing bent at a strange angle, numerous rents in its scaly hide, and burned all over from _flame strikes_, it can only drag itself thirty feet.  But that’s all it needs.  It clears the edge of the of the _wall of force_ and casts _dispel magic_ on Guztha.  The green glow of the _dimensional anchor_ disappears.

“If he blinks out, we’re killing his ride,” says Grey Wolf.

And that’s what happens.  Guztha blends into the shadows and vanishes.   The dragon endures a few more attacks – Ernie is unable to grapple it even with his _belt of equality_, Aravis’s _cone of cold_ does almost no damage to the cold-resistant dragon, and another _reciprocal gyre_ from Grey Wolf is ineffective.  Kibi ends up finishing off the beast with an _earthbolt_ that flips the dragon onto its back just as it tries to get airborne again.

Morningstar casts _detect thoughts_ in case Guztha is still nearby, but there’s no sign of his mental signature.  Dranko soars upward hoping to spot his enemy, but there’s no sign of his physical self, either.   They widen the search, with Morningstar giving Dranko her _daylight_-imbued shield as he flies in an outward-spiral pattern overhead.  Aravis flies around as well, looking for magical auras.  

Nothing.  Guztha is gone.

Kibi strokes his beard.  “I wonder how he knew you two were... what did he call it?  Blood-touched?”

“He must have smelled something,” says Dranko.

“And now,” says Grey Wolf.  “The Emperor will know that we’re here.”


...to be continued...


----------



## tmaaas

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “And now,” says Grey Wolf.  “The Emperor will know that we’re here.”




This'll add a little stress to your life.

Another awesome update. Thanks Sagiro!


----------



## shilsen

I've always wanted to have one of my PCs swallowed by a creature and activate an immovable rod in its bowels, so I thought I'd get to live it vicariously here. Dammit!

On the positive side, I love Dranko!


----------



## LightPhoenix

I kinda feel bad for Shivertooth.

...

What?


----------



## Everett

Good update.


----------



## Gold Roger

That's a very very neat fight.


----------



## Jackylhunter

I really would have liked to see the immovable rod trick in action.


----------



## Mishihari Lord

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Shivertooth breathes a mighty cone of lightning that travels about twenty feet before impacting the _wall of force_.
> 
> _What the...?  Oh, crap!_
> 
> Shivertooth tries to veer to the side but there’s not enough room.    CRUNCH!  The side of his snout and the base of one wing are crushed against the wall by his own momentum, as Shivertooth comes to a complete halt.  With a squeaky finger-on-clean-glass kind of sound, he slides down the wall and lands in a heap on the ground.
> 
> Dranko snorts.  “You’re an embarrassment to dragons everywhere.”



   Best insult ever!


----------



## Everett

So.  At the end of Part 1, when they got zapped into the alternate universe:

As far as the evil 'verse is concerned, no one knew anything about them.

And for the 'original' 'verse... it doesn't exist.  Right now.

Enlighten me, please.


----------



## Piratecat

Everett said:
			
		

> So.  At the end of Part 1, when they got zapped into the alternate universe:
> 
> As far as the evil 'verse is concerned, no one knew anything about them.
> 
> And for the 'original' 'verse... it doesn't exist.  Right now.
> 
> Enlighten me, please.



I'm not entirely sure I understand, but I'll try to sum up:

1. The Sharshun changed the universe by sending thr assassin Inivane back in time to warn the Emperor about the Spire. Doing so ensured that the world we grew up in never occurred.

2. The Company journeyed into Het Brannoi in order to find a third Eye of Moirel, in the hopes of fixing the universe. We actually found two. In the process, Aravis and Ernie got temporarily turned evil by spectacularly noxious and evil black fluid. We only managed to cure them with a _wish._

3. Using the Mirrors of Semek, we went back in time - and arrived simultaneously with Inivane. We killed him, and so he never warned the emperor. Presumably this has saved our future, so long as we're careful.

4. The emperor and his minions "smelled" the evil black fluid that had permeated Aravis and Ernie; this seems to be a method he had used to create powerful minions of his own. He sent an assassin named Guztha to bring them back, not knowing that they weren't from this time.

5. Guztha escaped like a big evil deadly shadowdancing chicken - but we killed his dragon! 

Clear?

_edited for clarity and to remove accidental spoilers_


----------



## Brogarn

According to this update, the assassin's still alive. You managed to unconfuse then confuse me again! DARN YOU!!


----------



## Everett

Piratecat said:
			
		

> 4. The emperor and his minions "smelled" the evil black fluid that had permeated Aravis and Ernie; this seems to be a method he had used to create powerful minions of his own. He sent an assassin to bring them back, not knowing that they weren't from this time.




I see.  That's what I didn't catch on to in reading the last update - how he sensed their presence.

But - you didn't kill the assassin - Guztha.  He got away.  Didn't he?


----------



## Sagiro

Piratecat has pretty much got it, but he accidentally sowed some confusion with his point #5 (since corrected... thanks PC!)

Brogarn, I think you're confused because PCat refers to two DIFFERENT assassins from two different time periods.  Consider for a moment that the "normal" campaign year the players are in is, say, 1800.  They traveled back to year 10.  

- Inivane was an assassin by trade, who was alive in 1800.  He traveled back in time to year 10 to warn the Emperor and was ultimately prevented from doing so by the Company.

- Guztha is an assassin-ish servant of Emperor Naloric who naturally lived back in year 10.  When the Company arrived in year 10, the Emperor sent Guztha to find the "Blood-touched" and bring them back.

Is that clearer?

-Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Is that clearer?




Clearly you need to have fewer people in the game trying to kill us.  It's confusing your beloved audience.  

Not to mention your beloved players.


----------



## Piratecat

Sorry - I edited my comment for clarity and spoiler removal!


----------



## blargney the second

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Clearly you need to have fewer people in the game trying to kill us.




I think that's your job.  I recommend hiring Wulf Ratbane. 
-blarg


----------



## Joshua Randall

Hopefully this hasn't already been discussed, making me look foolish, but...


			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> “What kind of creature is the Emperor, anyway?” asks Dranko.
> 
> “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him. But I’ve heard the story of his father, Hagdan – *King Hagdan the Just*. A couple hundred years ago, I’ve read, King Hagdan of Harkran was *seemingly overnight transformed. He was a good man, running the kingdom wisely. The next morning he was a monster*, larger, changed in some way. From that moment on, he sought to wage war. And while *he was killed by Queen Daynell Kalkas*, his son Naloric took up his reign. Naloric was like his father, I hear, and his armies have since conquered all of the Charagan Islands.”



Umm, wow. Did we know this? I don't remember knowing it. (Maybe it's the Masking affecting me.)

So Naloric's father was originally good, then became evil. How? Just your run-of-the-mill demonic temptation / illithid domination / helm of opposite alignment? Or maybe something more... convoluted, like... time-traveling Sharshun swapping the good king with an evil imposter.

Also, have we ever heard of Queen Daynell Kalkas before? If so, what role did / does / will she play in the story?


----------



## Piratecat

Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> Umm, wow. Did we know this? I don't remember knowing it. (Maybe it's the Masking affecting me.)



We didn't; this was the first The Company had heard of it as well.

Our current theory is that someone used something akin to the black fluid on him, transforming him into an evil monster. We don't know this for a fact, but it's our leading theory.

We also haven't heard of the Queen before or since. You know, it might be interesting to find out exactly _how_ she managed to kill him. You know, just in case.*

* _in case we're absolutely screwed and the Emperor breaks through, that is!_


----------



## Hammerhead

Kalkas? As in the Kalkas Peaks?


----------



## Everett

I believe that's it, yes.


----------



## Sagiro

Hammerhead and Everett are correct: the "Kalkas" in "Daynell Kalkas" is the same as in "Hae Kalkas," "The Kalkas Peaks," etc.  

It's probably not spoiling things to point out that in the future the Company comes from, in which the Emperor had long ago been defeated and driven into Exile on the "Prison Prime" of Volpos, many place names had been renamed.  For instance, "Pyke Vale" was renamed "Tal Hae," "Poal Cathan" was renamed "Hae Charagan," "Kinnet Vulthani" became "Verdshane," etc.

It's a safe bet that when the renaming happened, many famous personages were given the honor of having new places named after them.  Who better to honor than Queen Daynell Kalkas of Nahalm, the mighty warrior queen who slew the monstrous Hagdan Skewn on the field of battle?

-Sagiro


----------



## Brogarn

Thanks for further clarifying the clarification, Sagiro. 

You players really need to get on the ball! There's lots of evil afoot, yet. Slackers.

*ducks and runs for cover*


----------



## Everett

:\   bah.  You're not funny.

/trods back into cave.


----------



## Joshua Randall

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Our current theory is that someone used something akin to the black fluid on him, transforming him into an evil monster. We don't know this for a fact, but it's our leading theory.



Hmm... I'll s-block this in case the players don't want to let an outsider's speculation spoil their game.
[sblock]The black fluid that spilled on Aravis and Ernie didn't make them monstrous, just evil. But King Hagdan became a monster (literally?). Which seems to indicate that the black fluid the Company is carrying* is not *exactly* what was used.

* They are still carrying it, right? It's too dangerous to leave lying around.[/sblock]



> We also haven't heard of the Queen before or since. You know, it might be interesting to find out exactly _how_ she managed to kill him. You know, just in case.



Indeed, how *did* she kill him?[sblock]If the Company had traveled further back in time, it might be that they were the ones who joined with the queen to kill Hagdan! [/sblock]


----------



## Everett

I think those are unlikely.

Somehow, neither one gels with the colors you see in Sagiro's world.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Josh, I will tell you that Aravis got only a drop of the black stuff on him, and Ernie only touched Aravis.  And we turned very evil.  Think what a whole lot of black stuff could do!  

I also remember that in the story about the Emperor's transformation, it was mentioned somewhere that the Black Circle had been a new addition to the court just before he went all "funny", but not funny-ha-ha.  We're pretty sure it was the black ooze, introduced by our dark spherical friends.


----------



## Joshua Randall

Hey, KidC, congratulations on making 2nd level! (see attachment)


----------



## Fade

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Clearly you need to have fewer people in the game trying to kill us.  It's confusing your beloved audience.
> 
> Not to mention your beloved players.



Surely destroying the universe must have cut down the number of people trying to kill you. Of course, once the universe is restored they'll get right back to trying to kill you.


----------



## Sagiro

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Josh, I will tell you that Aravis got only a drop of the black stuff on him, and Ernie only touched Aravis.  And we turned very evil.  Think what a whole lot of black stuff could do!




A quick correction on this:  Aravis got sprayed in the face by much more than just a drop of the black liquid.   Ernie became Evil not because he touched Aravis, but because when he cast _dispel evil_, his hand came into contact with a single droplet of the black stuff that was still on Aravis's shoulder.  Clearly, it doesn't take much!

-Sagiro


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Did "ultimate evil"  or "concentrated evil" from the old movie "Time Bandits" contribute to your concentrated evil.  I'm just curious.  Loved that movie, and love this story hour.

GW


----------



## KidCthulhu

Graywolf-ELM said:
			
		

> Did "ultimate evil"  or "concentrated evil" from the old movie "Time Bandits" contribute to your concentrated evil.




Well, Ernie does like toast...


----------



## Everett

bump


----------



## Zaruthustran

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Who better to honor than Queen Daynell Kalkas of Nahalm, the mighty warrior queen who slew the monstrous Hagdan Skewn on the field of battle?
> 
> -Sagiro




For no good reason whatsoever, that statement sounds to me like misdirection. I inexplicably doubt that Queen Kalkas was a mighty warrior, and I doubt that she killed Skewn in battle.

Don't know why.

-z


----------



## Abstraction

Maybe you're just sexist


----------



## Everett

It was light-hearted hyperbole.  Do you understand me?  LIGHT-HEARTED!!!  /throws computer against the wall and sets it on fire.


----------



## Tamlyn

Everett said:
			
		

> It was light-hearted hyperbole.  Do you understand me?  LIGHT-HEARTED!!!  /throws computer against the wall and sets it on fire.




Wow. Sagiro, you better post an update post-haste to calm poor Everett down.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Well, Ernie does like toast...




The last piece in the toaster oven.  yes, that is it.

GW


----------



## Sagiro

I apologize for any typos -- it's late, and I need to sleep, and don't have time for a thorough proof-read. 

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 265*_
*The Legend of Crunchy*

“This dragon sucked!  It wouldn’t eat me!  What’s up with that?”

Dranko complains even as pulls hard on a tooth, freeing it from the dragon’s huge maw.   You can never have too many souvenirs.  

“We should warn the halflings,” says Morningstar.

“Let’s hope they ignore the halflings and keep coming after us,” says Grey Wolf.

Dranko pries off a large yellow scale.  “Kibi, that was the best use of a spell I’ve ever seen.”

Kibi puffs up with pride.  “I _am_ glad it turned out well,” he says, grinning.  Dranko jumps off the dragon’s back and lands gracefully next to the dwarf.  

“And for another thing,” says Dranko.  “We’ve killed two of these dragons now, and I’ve got _zero_ lairs.  Zero!  That’s where all the loot is.  We should go find this one’s lair.”

The others quickly point out that that would likely take them closer to the Emperor, while doing nothing about getting back to their own time.  Dranko sighs.


* *


According to Morningstar’s _commune_, the answer to returning home is on the island of Nahalm.  And the best lead _there_ is to find the dwarven wizard, Cranchus.  It’s possible that he’s still alive, given the strange longevity of archmages, and the natural longer lifespan of dwarves.  Cranchus is/was an Earth Mage, and as such might be able to do something to fix the Eyes of Moirel.   That makes their logical next stop the Kalkas Peaks, and the dwarven city of Hae Kalkas.

It’s a long shot, but it’s all they have.

Worried about the Emperor’s ability to track them, they Company first _wind walks_ an hour toward the (randomly chosen) town of West Nydem, after Dranko has stated out loud (for the sake of any nearby scrying sensors) that they’re headed to that location.  Even so, Morningstar casts _nondetection_ on Aravis, while Kibi does the same for Ernie.  They skim low across the ground.

There’s no sign of pursuit during the trip, only the gentle waving of tall moonlit grass a few feet below them.  Of course, there’s no town of West Nydem this far back in the past, and they see no other settlements en route, so they land at the edge of a small wood and camp under the trees, protected by a _Mordenkainen’s private sanctum_ and an _alarm_ spell.

Nothing accosts them overnight, and the next morning they spend an hour dining on a sumptuous _heroes’ feast_ provided by Ernie.  (In fact, this is now Standard Breakfasting Procedure whenever logistically possible.)   They discuss ways of protecting themselves from detection, but Aravis is extremely pessimistic on that count.  He feels the dragon-rider can find them no matter what they do, and while he might be slowed down by his lack of dragon, Aravis points out that he can clearly _teleport_ or something like it.  The dragon couldn’t have followed them so closely while they were _wind walking_ across the water, after all.

Dranko casts an _augury_:  _Will casting nondetection on the whole party bring us weal or woe?_

The answer:  *Better than nothing*

“Delioch approves,” says Dranko.  “He thinks it’s a great idea.”

Between casters and magic items, everyone is placed under _nondetection_, and they fly off toward where Hae Kalkas used to be.  (Ernie tries _find the path_ to “Cranchus’s bedroom,” but this produces no result.  That could mean that a) the spell was foiled, or b) Cranchus doesn’t exist in this time, or c) that Cranchus exists but doesn’t have a bedoom.)

“Can you sense Wild Magic?” Morningstar asks Kibi.  “That could tell us where Cranchus is, or at least his direction.”

“Well, yes, I can feel it around me,” says Kibi.  “But I couldn’t sense Cranchus from this far away.”

“We should just go to Hae Kalkas and start asking around,” says Dranko.

“Won’t we get in trouble?” asks Morningstar. “Remember what happened last time we just showed up in town and started asking questions about an Archmage?”  (She refers to their attempt to find Alykeen in Minok, way back in the early days of their adventuring careers.)

“He might not be an Archmage this far back in time,” says Dranko.   Then something occurs to him, and he brightens.  “Hey, and you know what?  I know exactly how far in the past we are!  How cool is that?”

“How do you know?” asks Flicker.

“I cast _know age_ on the Wilburforce Statue, back in our own time.  It’s 2661 years old.”

“Yikes,” says Flicker.  “Doesn’t that mean Cranchus might not have even been born yet?”


* *

They reach the eastern end of the Kalkas Peaks, and below them they spot a dwarven town in about the place Hae Kalkas used to be.   It’s much smaller than the city they know, and to Dranko’s disappointment there are no archmage-y looking towers poking up anywhere in sight.  They land outside of town, where Morningstar tries casting _find the path_ toward the biggest source of wild magic.  She gets nothing.

“Let’s go talk to people!” exclaims Dranko.

“Grey Wolf,” says Bostock.  “You should go.  It will be an excellent opportunity to work on your diplomatic skills!”

Grey Wolf nods and volunteers.   They can’t all go in while maintaining disguises, so a small group is sent.  Yoba, Ernie and Kibi will go as they are, while Grey Wolf uses Dranko’s _robe of blending_ to appear as a (still taller than average) dwarf.   They are linked to the rest of the party with the usual _telepathic bond_, and the reconnoitering group heads on foot down the road.   They pass a fork which heads up into the mountains, toward where Kibi’s home town of Eggemoggin used to be.  (When Morningstar asks, Kibi explains that while his family has been in Eggemoggin for as far back as anyone can remember, there’s no way he’ll know anyone there now.)

They meet no one on the road, and soon approach the wall of what they’re still calling “Hae Kalkas.”  The wall is more of a token boundary than a real fortification – 10’ high stone and barely wide enough for sentries.  There are a couple of dwarves manning the northern gate and the walls above it, and also a pair of bored-looking humans.   As they get closer, they see that the uniforms on the human soldiers are the same as that of the dragon-rider – the Sable Guard.  

“The Emperor has a presence here,” comments Grey Wolf.  “Damn.”

“Better to keep walking,” mutters Ernie nervously.

The humans guards have taken notice of them now, and are watching them closely.  As the recon group reaches the gate, the dwarven guards snap to attention while the humans barely stir.

“Halt!” exclaims one of the human guards, getting slowly to his feet.  “Names?”

“Ernest Roundhill.”

“Yoba Stoutheart.”

“Kibilhathur Bimson.”

“Axebreaker,” says Grey Wolf.  “Nord Axebreaker.”

“Business?” asks the guard.

“We want to sell metals from my home village,” says Kibi.

“Here to sell goods,” says the human half to himself, writing in a small book.  “Do you have any contracts with local guilds?”

“No,” says Kibi.  “That’s why we’re here.  We want to acquire contracts so we can do business here.  We’re at the preliminary stages.  We’ll need money to finance our mining operations.”

The soldier of the Sable Guard turns to his human fellow and they both chuckle, while the dwarves glower but say nothing.

“Do you expect to do a good business?” asks the human.

“I hope so, though it’s always dicey with an untapped vein,” says Kibi.

“Gems?”

“Actually, it’s a bit of silver.”

“If you’re going to do business in Stonehold,  there a standard gate tax.  30 gold pieces will cover the lot of you.”

Oh.  That’s a problem.  No one bothered to pick up local currency in Greenshire, and it won’t do to present coins that won’t be minted for another couple of millennia.   Kibi fishes in his pouch and hands over a ruby worth about 50 gold.  The human looks skeptical, but passes it around to the dwarves for inspection.  When the dwarves seem impressed with its value, the human pockets the gem.

 “Ok, good enough.  Move along then.”

Once through the gate, Yoba comments, “They didn’t ask for papers.  That’s a good sign, right?”

As a first order of business, Kibi flags down a dwarf on the street.

“Excuse me.  I don’t mean to bother you, but I’m looking for a place to sell some gems, to get a good value.  Can you recommend me a place?”

“Sure!” says the dwarf.  “It’s on the other side of town, but he’s good.  Kendo’s his name.”  The dwarf gives Kibi directions to a street of moneylenders and gem traders.   As they walk through the streets of Stonehold on a quest for current currency, they see that the main town guard is all human, dressed in the same sable uniforms.   Dwarves and humans alike look askance at the halflings, and also at Grey Wolf, whose height makes him the equivalent of a 6’10” human.  It’s clear soon enough that the local dwarves try not to have anything to do with the humans if they can help it.

Speaking of which:  a human guard steps abruptly out from a shop doorway and stands before Ernie.  Another pair of guards stands back in the shop, laughing.

“Huh.  You’re a long way from home, little fellah,” says the guard, smiling.

“Yes.  Yes I am,” says Ernie, putting on an extremely meek and compliant aspect.

“Hm.  Where you visiting from?”

“Greenshire,” says Ernie.

“Never heard of it,” says the guard.  “I assume you people have visiting papers, then.”   (At this, the other guards chuckle conspicuously.)

“Of course!” says Ernie.

“Let’s see ‘em, then.”

Ernie starts making a show of rifling through his belongings.  “Now, which sack did I put that in...?”

After about 30 seconds of this, Ernie looks up at the guard.  “I can’t seem to find my papers, but I did find something shiny that seems to have fallen into my pack.  Could it be yours?”  (He pulls out a twenty-gold-piece piece of jade.) “Could you have dropped it?”

“Oh, yeah, that,” says the guard, smiling broadly.  “Yeah, I did lose that.  Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” says Ernie cheerfully.  “Always happy to help!”

“That’s all right,” says the guard.  “I’m sure you’ll find your papers once you have time to look.”

“Yeah, I’m such a muddle-head,” says Ernie.  “I can never remember where I put things.”

“Well, that’s probably typical for someone your size.  Now, move along.  Move along.”

Once they’re out of earshot, Ernie turns angrily to Yoba.  

“Can I come back later and kick them in the shins?  Please?”

“Only if I get to hold him while you do it,” says Yoba.

“Someone of my size?  Humph!”


* *

Kendo is a jovial dwarf with a long white beard braided in a criss-cross pattern.   He’s happy to exchange some “modern” currency for a handful of gems.  Ernie takes the small sacks of coins and pulls a few of them out.  They remind him of the strange old square coins the Company found beneath Gohgan’s basement, on their very first assignment for Abernathy.  

“You know, I haven’t seen you before,” says Kendo to Kibi, as they watche Ernie peer at the coins.  “You new in town?”

“Yeah, I am,” answers Kibi.

“Where you from?”

“Oh, up in the mountains aways.  We’ve been looking for new veins of silver.  But, hey, while I’m here, I was wondering: if I wanted to find someone, someone who lives around here, but I don’t know where he is, and I want to get in touch with them, who would I ask?”

“Not sure,” says Kendo.  “Depends on who it was, I guess.”

“Do you know a dwarf named Cranchus?”

“No, not ringing a bell.  What’s he do?”

Ernie pipes up at this point.  “Excuse me, sir.  Is it true that there are no dwarven wizards?”

“Dwarven wizards?” Kendo snorts.  “Far as I know, there ain’t no dwarven wizard.  And all that talk about the Mad Wizard’s just a lot of bunk.”

Ding!

“Mad Wizard?” asks Ernie.

“Oh, you know, the story about the crazy wizard.  But I don’t remember how it goes.”

Kibi turns to Yoba and says, “My friend Yoba here _loves_ stories!”

Yoba nods, taken by surprise.  “Yes!  Yes I do!”

“Well, if I knew any, I’d tell you, but I don’t.  It’s just that you brought to mind a kid’s tale I heard when I was younger.   But there isn’t _actually_ a mad wizard.”

“That’s okay,” says Kibi.  “It’s just that she’s a collector of stories, so we’d love to hear it.”

“Say, you looking for a place to stay?” asks Kendo.  When Kibi nods, he continues.  “Try the Silver Pick.  Best place in town, and if you tell ‘em I sent you, they’ll kick me back some coin.”


* *

More human guards eye them suspiciously as they head back across town to the Silver Pick, but no one accosts them this time.  The Pick is a spacious and clean place, filled with dwarves talking, eating, drinking, arm-wrestling and playing at dice.  A dwarf in an apron, standing near the back, waves them to an empty table.

“Be right with you!”

Soon the four of them are drinking mugs of foamy dwarven ale, spiced differently than Kibi is used to but satisfying all the same.   The innkeep finally makes it to their table, and the first thing he does is bow before the halflings.

“Always a pleasure,” he says.  “Don’t see many halflings around here, but you’re welcome in the Pick.  I’m Hamstock Derring, at your disposal.”

After another round of introductions, and some small talk about Kibi’s accent and business aspirations (“Oh, you live up in Moggin?”), they get down to business.

“My friends here, Yoba in particular, like to collect local stories.”

“Especially children’s stories,” adds Yoba.

“Do you know anyone who can tell us some good tales?” asks Kibi.

A big grin spreads across the face of Hamstock Derring.  

“You’re talking to him!” he exclaims.  “Hey, Segwick!”

“Yeah boss?” answers a dwarf behind the bar. 

“Take over!  I’ll be busy for a few minutes.”  

Hamstock pulls up a chair at the table.  Kibi takes a swig of ale.

“Kendo, the guy who sent us over here, said there was a story about a mad wizard in the mountains.  Do you know that one?”

Hamstock laughs.  “Kendo told you that story?”

“No, no, he didn’t know it,” says Kibi.  “But I was wondering if you know how it goes?”

Hamstock makes a show of cracking the knuckles on his stubby fingers, smiles, and starts talking.

“Well, the story is – and there’s no truth to it, I’ll tell you that right off – is that there was a dwarf who fell into a pool of lava.   ‘Course,  everyone thought he was dead, until a week later he flew out of the pool, with magical power.”

“Wouldn’t he have died instantly when he fell in?” asks Kibi.

“I _told_ you it wasn’t true.  I’m just telling you how it goes.  Anyhow, he comes out of the lava and can do all sorts of magic.  He calls a town meeting, and says to the people, ‘Everyone, I’m going into the mountains, to find the source of the lava.  I’m going to turn it into gold and send it back, now that I know the secret.’”

“So off he went, into the mountains, from right here in Stonehold.   ‘I’ll be back in a year in a day, and I’ll have piles of gold,’ he said.”

“A year and a day passes, and they all look up, and there’s the biggest volcano you ever seen, and lava comes pouring down the mountain, and everyone’s thinkin’, looks like lava to us, and not gold.  But right before it reached Stonehold, the river of lava parted, and spared the town.  Didn’t burn a thing.  But it hardened overnight, and the next day miners went out and chipped away at the solid lava, and underneath the outer layer of rock?  Gold!  Pure gold.  And that, they say, is why we had so much gold here before...”

And here Hamstock looks around to make sure no one’s listening too closely.

“...before we had the sh*t taxed out of us.   Anyway, no one ever saw the mad wizard again.   They say he died in the volcano.   But like I said, it’s a made-up story.   For one thing, there’s no gold in these parts.  And the reasons we had so much wealth from our mines were clever surveying and a lot of hard work, not some crazy wizard.”

“That’s a great story!” says Kibi.  “Was there a specific mountain involved?”

“Naw,” says Hamstock, taking a swig from his own mug.  “It’s not like there’s ever been an actual volcano that blew around here.”

“Did the wizard have a name?” asks Grey Wolf.

“Yeah,” says Hamstock, grinning.  “My kid likes that story.   The wizard’s name was ‘Crunchy.’

DING DING DING!

“Crunchy the Mad Wizard!” exclaims Kibi.  “That’s great!  Yoba, isn’t that great!”

“Yes, great,” Yoba agrees.


* *


It’s agreed then that the next stop is the mining town of Moggin, since there might be more detailed stories there of “Crunchy the Mad Wizard.”  Kibi explains that there are some long-dormant volcanoes in this part of the mountains, but that none had erupted in living memory back in their own time.

After a good meal the recon group says farewell to Hamstock and the Silver Pick.   Hamstock wishes them luck, along with some grumbling about the taxes he pays just to run the place.

“But what are we gonna do?” he asks, throwing up his hands.  The ale has made him more bold in his complaints.  “End up like the dwarves in Karth?  Or the Tarathi?  Wiped off the map?  I don’t think so.”

“Tarathi?” asks Grey Wolf, intrigued.

“A bunch of elves.  Not surprising things didn’t work out for _them._  But Karth... it’s a lesson everyone learns sooner or later.  Defy the Emperor or his agents, and you’re not long for this world.  But you didn’t hear that from me.  Oh, and hey, tell the Mad Wizard I said hi.  Heh heh heh.  Hey Segwick, take 10!”

The group departs through the west gate (having come in from the north), so as not to arouse suspicion.  As they walk out the gate, one human guard puts out a spear and tries to trip up Ernie.  He fails, though Ernie doesn’t take the bait.  Under his breath he mutters,  “Man, the Spire is _so_ going to kick your asses.”

Over the mind-link, Dranko chides him.  “You do _not_ know how to start a fight.”

“And you do,” sighs Ernie.  “I know.  Which is why we didn’t bring you.  Look, they’re bullies, and you know how I feel about bullies., but this is not the time!”

The meet up with the rest of the Company outside of town.  They try a _sending_ to Cranchus, but get no answer.  Still, they’re excited about having a lead to follow.

They _wind walk_ up into the mountains, staying about a hundred feet off the ground and looking for    signs of volcanic activity, as well as the town of Moggin.   It only takes them half and hour at such fast speed, during which time they see not a single soul on the narrow rocky trail below.  They do eventually spot a small mining outpost, not far from where the town of Eggemoggin will someday sit.

“Let’s land there,” says Dranko, starting to descend.

“Looking like we do?” asks Kibi.

“Sure.  Screw it!” says Dranko.

“But you look like an orc!” Kibi points out.

“Ok, fine.”  

Dranko changes into a human, and Snokas agrees to fly up high and wait for a hand signal when it’s time to leave.

The Company lands a mile down the road from the outpost and march on in.  It’s a tiny place, consisting of six or seven tents and two permanent structures: an open-sided dining hall, and a tiny rickety general store called Lug’s Provisioners.    The dining hall is empty, so they walk into the store _en masse_.

It’s a musty place with a creaky door.  Mining equipment ranging from fairly new to old and battered sits on dusty shelves.  A couple of old dwarves sit at a table in the rear of the store, looking suspiciously at Dranko and the human-looking members of the party.  

“Aren’t you a traveling circus!” guffaws one of the dwarves.

One of the dwarves, a black-haired fellow with a triple-forked beard, sets down a dented metal tankard.   .

“We are,” agrees Kibi with a smile and a wave.

“More than you know,” adds Aravis.

“We’ve paid taxes this month!” declares the dwarf.

“Oh, no.  We’re not... we’re not here for that,” Kibi assures him.

“Good.  Cause they’ve already got all my profit, and then some.”

“That’s awful!” says Aravis.

“They’d tax our beards if they could,” says the dwarf bitterly.

“We’ve got no love for tax men, believe me,” says Dranko.

“So, what can we do for you then?” asks the dwarf.  

“Do have problems with orcs around here?” asks Kibi.

“Orcs?  No,” says the dwarf.  (Lug, they guess.)

“How come?” asks Dranko.  “Don’t they live in the mountains around here?”

Lug snorts.  “If they did, they probably fled ‘cause of all the monsters.”

“What monsters?” asks Dranko, intrigued.

“Oh, you know.  You hear lots of stories about monsters livin’ in the mountains round here.”

“We’ve heard some great stories about what lives in the mountains!” says Ernie.  “Some crazy wiz...”

“I met the monsters!” exclaims the oldest of the three dwarves.  The other two roll their eyes.

“Really!” says Dranko.  “What did they look like?”

“Oh, terrible they were.  Big.  Fat. Ugly.  Mmmm, yes, ugly.”

“So far you’re describing bears,” says Dranko.

“No, no!” says the old dwarf.  “Big, big people.  Giant people!”

“With tusks?” asks Dranko.

“No.  No tusks.  I only got a fleetin’ glimpse and I ran.  Think I’m crazy enough to stick around?  I’m here talkin’ to you, ain’t I?”

Ernie describes ogres, and Dranko describes trolls, but the old dwarf shakes his head.  

“The ones I saw had big clubs, but that was years ago.”

“Do they bother the miners?” asks Kibi.

“No.  We don’t go that deep anymore, or in that direction.  I got lost you see, and wandered into the wrong parts of the tunnels.”

“We heard a story about a crazy wizard who lives in the mountains,” says Kibi.  “Do you think he had anything to do with the monsters?”

“Ah, the mad wizard!”  The old dwarf cackles.  “There’s no mad wizard.  _But_, if you ask me, if there is a mad wizard, it’s probably his _fault_ that there’s all them monsters!”

“Have the monsters always been there?” asks Kibi.

“Who knows?  But I’ll tell you this.  There used to be another outpost down the path aways,  and they broke through into some underground cavern, and monsters came a ‘pourin’ out, and wiped out the whole place!”

“Just monsters?  No lava or gold?” asks Dranko.

The old dwarf looks puzzled for a minute.  “Lava or Gold?  Lava or... oh, that.  Ha!”

“I like that story!” says Ernie.

“It’s s stupid story,” says the old dwarf.  “You ever seen any lava?  Heck, you even seen any _gold_ around here?  Silver, iron, little bits of mithril if you get lucky.  No gold around here, though.”

“So you’ve never heard of anyone with the mad wizard’s name?  Crunchy?” prompts Dranko.

The dwarf laughs.  “Yeah, I’ve heard it.  You guys didn’t come all the way here for that piece of crap, did you?”

“No, we came here for other pieces of crap, too,” says Dranko.

“Well, I got a whole shop here full a crap, and most of it’s on sale.  You buyin’?  We got picks a plenty, hammers, hand-carts, boots, shovels... you name it, we got it.”

“Spikes,” says Dranko.  “I need more spikes.”

“We got spikes.”

“If you tell us where the monsters are, we could go investigate and maybe get rid of them for you,” says Kibi.

“Well, sure, I’ll tell you what I remember,” says the old dwarf.  “But I tell you, those big guys have a regular civilization down there.  I saw some of the walls.  The actually built stuff.  Probably built the walls to keep out all the other even crazier monsters that’re down there.  Craaaazy monsters, I tell ya!”

“Like what?  Crazier than giants?” asks Kibi.

“Have you ever heard of any with gems for eyes?” adds Morningstar.

“No, I don’t think so, no gems.  But I heard there are giant one-eyed bats down there.  And I heard rumors... of Eeeeeeeevil air spirits...”  Here he makes an exaggerated whooshing sound.  “...like the ones that did what for Karth!”

“Air spirits?  Here?” asks Kibi, feigning alarm.

“They’re everywhere!” exclaims the dwarf.  Then, in a hushed voice: “I hear they’re on a mission to hunt down and kill every last dwarf in the country.  So it stands to reason that they’re down there, right?  And I heard that there’re things with tentacles, and things with claws...”

Lug spits on the dirt floor.  “Hagglehock, shut up!  You’re senile, your memory’s shot, and you ain’t seen no monsters.   Why don’t you let my customers shop in peace?”

“I can heal that, you know,” says Dranko.  “I’m a healer.”

“You keep back a me,” says Hagglehock.  “I ain’t senile.  I’m telling you, I’ve heard stories, and there ain’t no reason to doubt ‘em.  Maybe the giants keep ‘em as pets.  Or maybe your mad wizard has a whole menagerie of monsters down there, and he sends ‘em out to do his eeeeeevil bidding.”

Dranko buys ten spikes and a small hammer for a handful of silvers.

“Anything  you need?” asks Dranko to Lug.

“Nothing I would say out loud,” says the dwarf.

“Yeah,” agrees Aravis.  “We need that too.”

Dranko slaps Lug on the shoulder, and slips 10 gold pieces into his pocket.  At their request  Hagglehock draws them a map to where he remembers the monsters.   Next to a crudely-drawn fissure he writes  ‘I fell in here.’   He draws lines for tunnels.   Aravis lends Hagglehock his _headband of intellect_ while the dwarf draws, which adds clarity to the map and thus makes it almost usable.  The only trouble is, there’s no indication of where the map actually _starts_, and Hagglehock cannot remember exactly where the landmarks are.

Kibi tries once more to sense any local Wild Magic, but there’s nothing.    Has the Company finally reached a dead end in their search?  

Not quite.  They take a final _wind walk_ jaunt down the road on which Hagglehock had said there used to be another outpost.  And a few minutes later they see it, a small ruin on the spot where, in the future, the town of Marhold will be built.  Dranko is the first to turn solid.

“Tasty half orc!  Any monsters, come out and eat me!”

Morningstar casts _detect thoughts_ but gets nothing, and Kibi still cannot detect even a whiff of Wild Magic.  With nothing left to try, Aravis casts _vision_, naming the dwarf Cranchus as his subject.

All goes white.  For a moment Aravis sees nothing but a featureless bright square, but then he sees lines and pictures appear as if drawn with an invisible quill.  These images resolve into a copy of the map that Hagglehock had just drawn for them, but then they expand.  Hagglehock hadn’t drawn it, but a road appears on the map, winding its way back down the mountains toward Stonehold.  

The map fills his entire vision now, and in Stonehold a blue glowing spot appears.  A gold ribbon then snakes away from the dot, retracing the road, rejoining the original map, and then going further into the mountains.  Is the spell showing him the route Cranchus took, leaving Stonehold and journeying into the Kalkas Peaks? 

The map tilts and stretches into a three-dimensional line-drawing, and Aravis watches as the golden ribbon flows into caverns and tunnels, turning this way and that in a meandering line.  Then, abruptly, the ribbon is fragmented, splitting into dozens of pathways going in multiple directions.  His head throbs as if something has reached out and put a sudden halt to his vision.  The map fades slowly from his sight.

Aravis explains his vision to the others.  Kibi’s heart races; Cranchus, the legendary Earth Mage, whom he is more sure than ever is his own grandfather, has trod the very stones beneath his feet.   And now they follow his footsteps, to see where they lead.

“Ok!” shouts Dranko, patting Kibi on the back.  “Let’s go dirt-diving!”

...to be continued...


----------



## el-remmen

Very enjoyable update.


----------



## Fade

Was a way ever found to get Ernie and Aravis permanently un-eviled, or are they still expected to revert and start plotting behind your backs at any moment?


----------



## Everett

As I remember, the soultion they found was sort of a "permanent quick-fix" - it lasts indefinitely, but the evil isn't gone, it's just in suspended animation.


----------



## Solarious

I recall differently: after they had problems with them being too far away from the Blue eye, they used a _Wish_ from the Luck Blade they had to expell all the black goo from them. Which is good, since the Eyes are all broken right now. 

And this update proves once more: Bribery for the win!


----------



## Everett

Solarious said:
			
		

> I recall differently: after they had problems with them being too far away from the Blue eye, they used a _Wish_ from the Luck Blade they had to expell all the black goo from them. Which is good, since the Eyes are all broken right now.




Yeah, that's correct.  Not sure what I was thinking of...


----------



## Everett

Apropos of nothing, what level is the party at now?


----------



## Sagiro

*Regadring the Evil Black Liquid:*

It is true that, by use of a _wish_, black goo was physically expelled from Ernie and Aravis.  It is also true that since then, the two of them have not been evil, have not felt any desire to do evil, and furthermore have maintined that state of non-evilness without any outside help (like they were getting from the Blue Eye there for a while).  

On the other hand, even after the _wish_, the Emperor and/or his lackey was _still_ able to locate Ernie and Aravis by "smell."   So, make of that what you will.

*Regarding character level:* 

At the time of this last update, I think the highest level characters were 15th level, and the range was 13th to 15th.   Right now, 17 runs and 14 months ahead of the story hour, the highest-level characters have recently hit 17th level, and thus have 9th level spells.  

Speaking of which, Morningstar is likely to try one of them out next game.  The bad news is: after the horrific events of last game, said spell is _true resurrection_.  

-Sagiro


----------



## Everett

Teasing us with a player character death that we won't get to read about for a YEAR?  Unfair, man.  Totally unfair.


----------



## Sagiro

Everett said:
			
		

> Teasing us with a player character death that we won't get to read about for a YEAR?  Unfair, man.  Totally unfair.



As my father was fond of telling me while I was growing up:  "Nobody said life was fair."


----------



## Len

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Speaking of which, Morningstar is likely to try one of them out next game.  The bad news is: after the horrific events of last game, said spell is _true resurrection_.



Not the result of a marital dispute, I hope?


----------



## Enkhidu

Sagiro said:
			
		

> [...On the other hand, even after the _wish_, the Emperor and/or his lackey was _still_ able to locate Ernie and Aravis by "smell."   So, make of that what you will...




_Someone_ didn't bathe in tomato juice to get rid of the musk...


----------



## Everett

Sagiro said:
			
		

> As my father was fond of telling me while I was growing up:  "Nobody said life was fair."




Now what kind of example is that to set for the little hobgoblins?


----------



## Duncan Haldane

Nice update Sagiro, 

and grats on 50 pages of posts in your story hour, whichever iteration it is 

Duncan


----------



## Zaruthustran

Everett said:
			
		

> Teasing us with a player character death that we won't get to read about for a YEAR?  Unfair, man.  Totally unfair.




Well, seeing as how each update is, what, something like 1/3 to 1/2 of a session, it's more like 2-3 years before we witness the PC death.

On the bright side, we get to look forward to another 2-3 years of Sagiro's Story Hour!

-z


----------



## Duncan Haldane

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> Well, seeing as how each update is, what, something like 1/3 to 1/2 of a session, it's more like 2-3 years before we witness the PC death.
> 
> On the bright side, we get to look forward to another 2-3 years of Sagiro's Story Hour!
> 
> -z




I don't think that's really fair.  The campaign has been going for over 10 years, the story hour for about six (IIRC it started on an early version of the Eric Noah 3rd Edition News website, after the August 2000 release of the PHB).

While it has fallen a little further behind than it had been over the last year with Sagiro's increased family commitments, it hasn't been all that much change in how far we are behind the campaign.

Also, Sagiro doesn't want it to get the Story Hour releases too close to the campaign, lest we start making guesses at his storylines before the PCs experience them (or possibly even worse, influence the storyline by our guesses/suggestions).

Great Job, Sagiro!

Duncan


----------



## Dortmunder

*map of charagan?*

Is there a map of Charagan / Kivia floating around somewhere? I love this story hour and am currently re-reading StevenAC's PDFs - and I'd love to be able to see just where Oasis and Karth and Hae Kalkas etc are.


----------



## Piratecat

There was, here: http://home.comcast.net/~dorian.hart/overview.html

Unfortunately, it seems like the images aren't linked right now.


----------



## Joshua Randall

_To prevent possible spoiler-izing of the players in Sagiro's campaign, I'll s-block this entire post. I really don't think anything I've posted here is groundbreaking, but just to be safe...._

I recently began re-reading this story hour from the very beginning, and I'm wondering the following:

[sblock]Is there a connection among...

 the evil black energy used to create and/or powering the Null Shadows
 the evil black energy used by the Circle in their attempt to bridge the planes at Kallor
 the evil black liquid that sprayed on some of the party when they resuced the third Eye of Moirel
?

A couple of interesting quotes follow.


			
				Null Shadows said:
			
		

> They are humanoid but featureless, and slightly blurry around the edges.  They make no noise, and flail at her with *black, fog-like appendages*.  Where they strike, Morningstar’s skin is left with a horrible, stinging black smear.





			
				Black Circle Ritual said:
			
		

> At the bottom of that pit are over twenty Black Circle clerics, most arrayed around the perimeter, with half a dozen standing in a black obsidian circle in the center of the floor.  That circle, like the large one on the floor between the converging spheres above, is pulsing blackly in time with the loud thrumming sound that fills the entire chamber. *Black energy is streaming out* of the black circle in the pit, spilling up the wall of the pit, and across the floor above, towards its counterpart.





			
				Third Eye of Moirel said:
			
		

> The Pillar is what immediately draws his attention.  It is a tall cylindrical column, stacked alternately with rings of obsidian and transparent crystal.  *A black liquid moves about beneath the surface of the crystal sections*, as if dark oil is trapped between two pressed sheets of glass and is oozing like a living Rorschach blot.



[/sblock]


----------



## KidCthulhu

That's not really a spoiler.  They're all connected and the party has put that together.


----------



## sniffles

Wow. I've been slowly reading SteveC's nice PDFs of the earlier adventures, and really enjoying the story. I'm not sure whether to be impressed or bewildered that after 10 years the PCs are just achieving 17th level. I've been in a 3E campaign for 3 years, occurring twice a month, and out PCs are now 12th level. And I thought we were progressing slowly! 

As a player I'm not sure how I'd have reacted to being transported to an alternate reality (that's the part I'm just getting started reading now). I'd probably like it for a short-term story arc, but I'm not sure I'd want to spend months of play in that situation. And I know I'd be angry to learn that they had the option to try to prevent that from happening, but if they had then they wouldn't have been able to prevent the invasion. Your players are more patient than I am, I expect. 

I'm just full of questions now, which were probably answered somewhere long ago. I tend to skim over the other postings -  I'm always impatient to get to the next installment of the adventure.   

I'll go ahead and pose a couple of my questions and see where it gets me.   
Is Kibi's Earth Mage class a homegrown prestige class, or from some sourcebook? Mechanically how did you incorporate the Crosser's Maze into Aravis?

Now I've got to try to tear myself away from the story and get some work done.


----------



## Everett

sniffles said:
			
		

> Is Kibi's Earth Mage class a homegrown prestige class, or from some sourcebook?QUOTE]
> 
> I think it's a mixture, but that's just what I glean from reading the SH.  Better have Sagiro or somebody else inside the campaign answer.


----------



## Piratecat

sniffles said:
			
		

> As a player I'm not sure how I'd have reacted to being transported to an alternate reality (that's the part I'm just getting started reading now). I'd probably like it for a short-term story arc, but I'm not sure I'd want to spend months of play in that situation. And I know I'd be angry to learn that they had the option to try to prevent that from happening, but if they had then they wouldn't have been able to prevent the invasion.



I'm glad you're reading it!

None of us felt tricked or taken advantage of. I'm sure part of it was the metagame knowledge that this was going to lead to some great gaming, but we weren't mad at him -- we were mad because we had purposely decided to ignore the Sharshun, since "they weren't doing anything." That'll teach us! The world is a busy place, and lots of people are striving against one another. That's happening right now in the game, too, and I'm worried that we're missing some clues to ongoing badness that are going to seem obvious in retrospect.

Kibi's earth mage class is custom, as far as I know. Since Kibi was 1-2 levels behind the rest of the party (Kodiak had gone to grad school), the class is purposefully designed to be slightly more powerful than average in order to equalize him with the rest of the group.

Aravis never got stats for the Crosser's Maze, and as far as I know Sagiro never wrote them down; he just knew what it was capable of doing. Aravis made knowledge (planes) checks when he actively tried to use it. I suspect the typical DC for those checks was around 25, but I don't actually know.


----------



## Gold Roger

Piratecat said:
			
		

> None of us felt tricked or taken advantage of. I'm sure part of it was the metagame knowledge that this was going to lead to some great gaming, but we weren't mad at him -- we were mad because we had purposely decided to ignore the Sharshun, since "they weren't doing anything." That'll teach us! The world is a busy place, and lots of people are striving against one another. That's happening right now in the game, too, and I'm worried that we're missing some clues to ongoing badness that are going to seem obvious in retrospect.




I know, I propably sound like a smart ass for saying this, but reading the compiled storyhour I kept asking myself "When are they going to move against that oasis mage guild- it stinks to hell".

I realise that noticing this was far easier when reading a compilation over the course of a week than doing so throughout years of gaming, but it still kept coming up and stuck out to me.

It was a very understandable oversight, but an oversight nontheless and it's actually this ability to pull through the consequences in such a mercyless but entertaining way that is so great about Sagiro's DMing.


----------



## Dawn

Sagiro said:
			
		

> As my father was fond of telling me while I was growing up:  "Nobody said life was fair."




Your dad must have known my dad.  That had to have been his favorite saying to me.  Of course I now use that with my kids too.  

Lovin' the story!  Keep it coming!


----------



## Everett

Gold Roger said:
			
		

> I know, I propably sound like a smart ass for saying this, but reading the compiled storyhour I kept asking myself "When are they going to move against that oasis mage guild- it stinks to hell".





What's that?


----------



## sniffles

Thanks for the answers, KidCthulhu! I imagine a lot of the experience is the 'you had to be there' effect. It's not the same just reading it. I don't mind reading about that sort of situation, but as a player I hate being in it.  

(edit) Oops! It was PirateCat who answered, not KidCthulhu.


----------



## Joshua Randall

In my continued determination to come up with a realization that won't make KidC look down on me  , try this one on for size:
[sblock]What if Archmage Cranchus = Condor, the creator of the Eyes of Moirel? We know that Cranchus was a powerful user of wild/earth magic (like Kibi). We know the Eyes are wild magic artifacts. There's the whole first-letter-of-the-name thing.

Plus, this would just be a damn cool plot point -- what if Cranchus/Condor created the Eyes specifically to *prevent* the PCs from doing what they are now doing? (i.e. "fixing" the timeline so the Emperor didn't win). There have been hints that the original timeline is the one in the which the Emperor *did* win (i.e., the one in which the PCs are now present), so I guess that if Cranchus = Condor, it would mean he's... eeevil!

Well, *I* think it would be cool. Humph.[/sblock]


----------



## Piratecat

That would be cool! You may or may not remember Dranko's great theory (and I still think it is, darn it) that Cranchus is actually Parthol Runecarver. Great minds think alike.

But since we're heading off to find Cranchus, doubtless all will be revealed one way or another.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sorry, Josh.  Still no gold star for you.  In just a few updates, you'll find out all about Crunchy and Condor.


----------



## Joshua Randall

*fumes silently*


----------



## Berandor

Hey there!

I'm currently working my way through this whole SH (I'm at session 105 or so, the party is in Crosser's Maze), but I've got a question:
With a party of six or seven PCs, is there a specific reason that there is an NPC like Flicker in the party, too? Is it to get them into trouble? How do the players take to Flicker saving the day? I can see adding Makel to the party (and keeping him for guests is nice), but when I'm DM'ing, I'd rather have four or five PCs, so in a party of six, I couldn't see myself adding another character.

Not that it keeps me from enjoying the adventures of Abernathy's Company. I particularly enjoy the mix of combat and story, and I mentally jot down many notes on how to throw your group a curve ball. Some day, I'll even be up to date with current posts.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Flicker is in the party for a few reasons.  1) we don't have a "full" rogue, and everyone needs one 2) Also several of the party's players have spouses who game but aren't in this game.  Sagiro specifically wanted a full time NPC so that if we had guests over we had someone for them to play.  

Although we haven't done it in a while, the group likes to go away for weekends and play and hang out together.  It's nice to be able to include Significant Others in the play without having to bend the world to add new PCs


----------



## Berandor

That's cool. I wish the spouses in our group would game with us sometimes.


----------



## Everett

Originally Posted by Sagiro
As my father was fond of telling me while I was growing up: "Nobody said life was fair." 
***

So how about an update?

And what's the Oasis Mage's Guild again?  Don't remember that at all.


----------



## Gold Roger

Everett said:
			
		

> Originally Posted by Sagiro
> As my father was fond of telling me while I was growing up: "Nobody said life was fair."
> ***
> 
> So how about an update?
> 
> And what's the Oasis Mage's Guild again?  Don't remember that at all.




It's forbidden to found a mages guild in the city of Oasis. There was some important in historical reason why that I don't remember. Anyway, quite early the PC's found out that the Sharshun had founded a mages guild in Oasis, but never really did anything about it. I suspect that this would have been the critical link to find the other eyes in time.


----------



## Joshua Randall

My latest insane ramblings...
[sblock]What if Darkeye, the leader of the Sharshun, is really "dark eye"? -- as in a dark Eye of Moirel.

Up to now I had just been assuming the remaining Eyes of Moirel (that the PCs don't have) fill out the remaining colors of the rainbow. But there's no reason that has to be the case. One of them could be black, or some other dark color, and it would then be the Dark Eye.

The Red Eye dominated Sagiro (the NPC), so maybe the Dark Eye is capable of mentally dominating the whole sharshun organization.[/sblock]


----------



## Lord Pendragon

Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> My latest insane ramblings...
> [sblock]What if Darkeye, the leader of the Sharshun, is really "dark eye"? -- as in a dark Eye of Moirel.
> 
> Up to now I had just been assuming the remaining Eyes of Moirel (that the PCs don't have) fill out the remaining colors of the rainbow. But there's no reason that has to be the case. One of them could be black, or some other dark color, and it would then be the Dark Eye.
> 
> The Red Eye dominated Sagiro (the NPC), so maybe the Dark Eye is capable of mentally dominating the whole sharshun organization.[/sblock]



I suggested this theory pages ago.


----------



## Everett

No.  Too literal.

***********
"Oh, it's one of those towns (San Francisco) that people tell you to like."
-The Hours.


----------



## Enkhidu

My guess is Dark Eye is another of the Emperor's Black-Goo assassins.


----------



## Everett

Oh come on, it has to be Mrs. Horn.  You know I'm right, just accept it.


----------



## el-remmen

Everett said:
			
		

> Oh come on, it has to be Mrs. Horn.  You know I'm right, just accept it.




Mrs. Horn was actually my favorite character.


----------



## Joshua Randall

Will she be wearing tight-fitting leather garments?


----------



## KidCthulhu

Oh man.  If we didn't know exactly where Mrs. Horn is right now, that would be _one hell _of an evil idea.  Everett & Josh, I may have to have you both gagged for violation of Rule One.

And I agree on Mrs. Horn, Remmen.  She was always a favorite of mine too. Very complex and not your everyday character.


----------



## thatdarncat

Hey Sagiro, I know it's late but I wanted to say happy anniversery to you and Kodiak.


----------



## Everett

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Oh man.  If we didn't know exactly where Mrs. Horn is right now, that would be _one hell _of an evil idea.  Everett & Josh, I may have to have you both gagged for violation of Rule One.




"Do not act incautiously when confronting a little bald wrinkly smiling man"?

From one of the Discworld books.  Bonus points if you've got the title.

As for knowing where she is - isn't she well-night dead?  Unless I _really_ missed something. 

She was lots of folks favorite, of course; 's why I chose her.


----------



## Ian the Mad

Everett said:
			
		

> "Do not act incautiously when confronting a little bald wrinkly smiling man"?
> 
> From one of the Discworld books.  Bonus points if you've got the title.
> 
> As for knowing where she is - isn't she well-night dead?  Unless I _really_ missed something.
> 
> She was lots of folks favorite, of course; 's why I chose her.



Given the topic, I'm going to have to opt for Thief of Time.

Keep up the good work, fellow Bostonites.  This story hour has kept me entertained for many a year.


----------



## Everett

That's correct.  Not too difficult, I suppose.


----------



## Everett

Recent posts kind of make a bump not warranted, but that's just the sort of bastard I am.

Bump.


----------



## Berandor

Whew. I'm through. And what can I say except: Excellent!

Great players, very cool characters, and of course rat bastardy schemes aplenty! What amazes me most is that this campaign has not only been going on for ten or so years, but that it still expands on the story and threads laid out all this time ago.

I wonder: what would have happened in a TPK? Would new characters follow the old Company's footsteps? Would Sagiro make up a new campaign? Or would a TPK be prevented by a) a DM that always presents options for the players and b) smart players who, when it all went wrong, might have fled or turned themselves in?

A question for the players: Have you pondered going to the Spire and warning them that Parthol Runecarver might be a spy/traitor?

And to Sagiro, off topic: Someone way back posted you used to work for Looking Glass Studios? If you had a hand in the "Thief" series, another round of thanks for games that we still reminisce about and that has lend some parts of it to our role-playing experience, e.g. the typical guard going around, mumbling to himself. 

And now: Update, please!


----------



## Everett

Berandor said:
			
		

> And now: Update, please!




Motion seconded.


----------



## Joshua Randall

Bump.


----------



## Everett

bump bump.  Paper beats rock.


----------



## Piratecat

Berandor said:
			
		

> And to Sagiro, off topic: Someone way back posted you used to work for Looking Glass Studios? If you had a hand in the "Thief" series, another round of thanks for games that we still reminisce about and that has lend some parts of it to our role-playing experience, e.g. the typical guard going around, mumbling to himself.



He did indeed.  

We won't see an update for a bit; Sagiro's been crazy-busy. He and I poke one another to write, thank goodness, so we'll see whose turn it is to glare at the other person.


----------



## Solarious

If he had *anything* to do with the Shalebridge Cradle, tell him he needs to make more masterpieces like that.

Do it. Do it now. Or I shall invent the device that allows people to stab one another over the internet and come looking.


----------



## Piratecat

Solarious said:
			
		

> Tell him he needs to make more masterpieces like that.



Go google "Bioshock." And in the mean time, I'm going to back away from my monitor veeeerrrry sloooowly. . .


----------



## wedgeski

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Go google "Bioshock." And in the mean time, I'm going to back away from my monitor veeeerrrry sloooowly. . .



He's working on Bioshock??!?? Lucky sod!


----------



## Tamlyn

Everett said:
			
		

> bump bump.  Paper beats rock.




And fire beats paper. Name that reference.


----------



## Everett

No clue, man.  "Fire" makes me think George R.R. Martin for no obvious reason.  What is it?


----------



## wedgeski

Tamlyn said:
			
		

> And fire beats paper. Name that reference.



Friends.


----------



## Solarious

Oh? He's involved in that? Did he come up with the creepy little girls and their... err... needles? 

I love needles!


----------



## Kaodi

*Ah...*

I think I'll always remember Deja Vu because of Sagiro, hehehe...

Have you guys even had a chance to do much gaming since the beginning of the summer?

Meanwhile, I won't poke you... but right now my gerry-rigged transporter is locking on to your peg leg, and I fear the only thing that will delay me energizing will be a recounting of the untold adventures of the Defenders of Daybreak...


----------



## Tamlyn

wedgeski said:
			
		

> Friends.




Right. Thanks for reminding me. I remembered the quote but forgot the source.


----------



## CTSparky

*Coming to ask a few questions*

First I'd like to say that the Story Hour is great.  At first I was a bit disappointed (being used to the Halmae story hour), but then I got into the logbook style and I'm loving it.  Right now I'm using StevenAC's pdf's and I'm on Sagiro06.  ( I still have a ways to go)  It is because of Steven Ac's rendering of Halmae that I thought I should try out Sagiro's.

I can't wait until I get to reading the actual bulletin board.  I do have 2 questions tho and I'm sure they have been answered already, but I have to ask.

When did you switch from 3.0 haste to 3.5 haste?  Did it make a big difference in the length of combats?

and now that I had to step away from my computer I can't remember the rest.  So i'll ask that and be done with it.

Ohh.. I remembered now.  How often do you guys play?  For how long also?  Any chance that one of these years a guy from CT can come up and watch?


Great time guys, and keep up the good work.


----------



## wedgeski

Tamlyn said:
			
		

> Right. Thanks for reminding me. I remembered the quote but forgot the source.



"Well played. Well played, Phoebe Buffay."


----------



## Tamlyn

wedgeski said:
			
		

> "Well played. Well played, Phoebe Buffay."




I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not.  :\


----------



## wedgeski

Tamlyn said:
			
		

> I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not.  :\



I was just thinking of the scene in question and that quote occured to me. Nothing meant by it at all.


----------



## Everett

wedgeski said:
			
		

> Friends.




We don't need that kind of negativity in here, yo.


----------



## Berandor

CTSparky said:
			
		

> First I'd like to say that the Story Hour is great.  At first I was a bit disappointed (being used to the Halmae story hour), but then I got into the logbook style and I'm loving it.  Right now I'm using StevenAC's pdf's and I'm on Sagiro06.  ( I still have a ways to go)  It is because of Steven Ac's rendering of Halmae that I thought I should try out Sagiro's.
> 
> I can't wait until I get to reading the actual bulletin board.  I do have 2 questions tho and I'm sure they have been answered already, but I have to ask.
> 
> When did you switch from 3.0 haste to 3.5 haste?  Did it make a big difference in the length of combats?
> 
> and now that I had to step away from my computer I can't remember the rest.  So i'll ask that and be done with it.
> 
> Ohh.. I remembered now.  How often do you guys play?  For how long also?  Any chance that one of these years a guy from CT can come up and watch?
> 
> 
> Great time guys, and keep up the good work.



 I think if anything, you can only come up and play


----------



## Sagiro

Hi everyone!

Sorry I don't have an update yet -- I've been chipping away at the next one in my scarce free time, and I wanted you to know I haven't abandoned the story.  I'm in the midst of transcribing a particularly chaotic and harrowing combat from tape, which can be time consuming.  I don't have an ETA for my next post, but I'm aiming for "within the week."  (This estimate can obviously be altered by work emergencies and severe toddler-induced sleep deficiency.)  

To quickly address some questions that have been asked and not yet answered:

- If the party were to suffer a TPK (and this has nearly happened on more than one occasion), I'd leave it up to the players to decide how they wanted to handle it.   I have no idea what they'd choose.  

- I don't remember exactly when we switched from 3.0 _haste_ to the 3.5 version, but I much, MUCH prefer the 3.5 version.  Allowing casters to cast two spells every round was too overpowered, and slowed things down as well.  I like how the 3.5 version plays, both in theory and practice.

- We play, on average about 1.5 times a month.   (And our next game, scheduled for mid-November, will pretty much mark the 11th anniversary of the campaign!)  In the early days we usually played on weekends for about 6 hours a stretch, once every other week.  More recently we've been playing on weeknights, for about 2.5-3 hours per session, and about once every three weeks.   But while the pace has slowed, the game marches on.

- thatdarnedcat, thanks for remembering our anniversary!  It's more than I can say for the two of us -- we both forgot until the night before, and didn't actually go out to dinner to celebrate until a month later.    

-Sagiro


----------



## thatdarncat

hey, no problem  Seri and I forget ours all the time, I just happened to be reading the right part of the thread on the right day


----------



## Everett

*Things that go *bump* in the night.*

I deserve to be shot for that one.

It's so saccharine; I feel dirty!


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 266*_
*A Nasty Surprise for All Concerned*

The Company discusses plans for their imminent subterranean journey.  _Wind walk_ has been their preferred travel method of late, and it’s still cast upon them, but in a series of underground tunnels and caves they’d be forced into the spell’s slower mode.  Besides, they’d rather be battle-ready.  They could be facing the defenses of a powerful Earth Mage, against whom having airy bodies might prove no defense at all.

Aravis casts _mass darkvision_ so that they won’t need to carry attention-attracting lights, and they plunge into an abandoned mine entrance, connected mentally by Morningstar’s _telepathic bond_.    Dranko, scouting ahead, notes that while old equipment strewn about has become rotten and rusted, the wood beams and walls of the tunnel are solid and withstanding the test of time.   Kibi notes the quality dwarven construction with pride.

After an hour or so Dranko pulls up at the lip of a gaping hole in the ground – a small natural fissure in the rock.  He peers down but sees nothing within the range of his darkvision.    When the rest of the party has caught up he hands a rope to Grey Wolf.  

“Here, hold this.  If you hear me scream, it means something’s attacking me.”

The ground turns out to be about seventy feet below; Dranko descends into a large (and empty) natural cavern.  It looks vaguely familiar to him, which makes sense:  they’ve been in a very similar maze of caves and passages before, when they found and slew Restimar posing as the legendary Chun Aggrat.   

It’s only after Flicker has also been lowered down that they remember they still have _wind walk_ going, so the rest of the party wafts down slowly to the cavern floor.  Once solid again they look around the large space and see no way out of it.  Kibi scratches his beard.

“Aravis, which way did your vision say to go?”

Aravis points at a featureless wall to his right, and Kibi walks that way.   

“Guys, over here!”  

A narrow exit tunnel was camouflaged and hidden by some natural folds in the rock.  He closes his eyes and tries to sense if any source of Wild Magic is near.  Nothing.

“You know what?” says Ernie, as they walk single file into the new tunnel.  “We haven’t been underground since the beast cave where Step died.  The first time, I mean.”

The tunnel does get steadily wider, until they can walk three-abreast.  They hear a constant squeaking sound in the background and catch occasional glimpses of dog-sized cave rats scurrying in the darkness.

“Maybe we should talk to one of them,” laughs Morningstar.

“I don’t speak rat,” says Dranko.  And to show his contempt for a rodent whose language he doesn’t speak, Dranko flicks his whip and slays the rat in a single blow.

“Well done,” says Grey Wolf dryly.

Dranko shrugs, lights a cigar on Ernie’s armor, and they press on into the darkness.   They hear only the sound of their footsteps, the squeaks of rats, and the distant echoes of an underground river.   Despite the warnings of Hagglehock there are no signs of monsters or other dire perils.  Kibi thinks that these caverns have some good mining potential, mostly in iron.

They are following the map as Aravis recalls from his _vision_, but Aravis, while brilliant, has not done much spelunking recently.  After an especially labyrinthine series of connected caves he’s no longer sure they’re still on target.  Morningstar casts _find the path_ targeting the location of “the last clearly-marked location on Aravis’s mental map,” and through this discovers that they’ve been off-course for the last half hour.  They backtrack and pick up the trail, following it until the spell wears off some two-plus hours later.  By this time they’ve put in a full day of traveling and decide to make camp.  At Dranko’s suggestion they wall themselves into a corner with a _wall of stone_ and then sleep in _rope tricks_.  Ah, the comforts of home.


* *

Nothing disturbs their sleep, and the next “morning” the stone wall is still intact.  After a cramped _heroes' feast_ Dranko listens at the stone and hears some rats squeaking.  

“I hope they’re not hungry,” says Ernie.  He’s mostly kidding, but he still harbors terrible memories of his very first underground adventure, in which he stumbled into a pit of live, hungry rats.  Dranko makes the Company an egress with _stone shape_ and crawls out.  There are some rats outside – four of them – but they’re drinking from a small puddle and paying the party no mind.

“You know,” says Kibi, stroking his beard.   “I could make us all look like rats.  We’d fit right in.”

That’s a plan with great appeal, since something that might take exception to a party of armed surface dwellers might not bat an eye at a group of cave rats.  Kibi casts _veil_, making everyone look like plain old rodents.  Morningstar casts another _find the path_ and off they go.

The sounds of water get louder as they progress, and as the tunnels begin to grow damp, the rats become more numerous.   Dranko, still out in front, pulls up short at a strange sound – a loud, wet thump from up ahead.  He waits for the rest to catch up, and they all hear it a second time.  Thump!

“That was not a cave rat,” says Grey Wolf.

Indeed not!  Dranko scoots silently ahead, and after a couple of turns the tunnel opens into another large cavern, over sixty feet across (the range of his darkvision) but with a (relatively low) thirty-foot ceiling.  Near the edge of his visual range, at the left side of the cavern, a ten-foot-tall giant – or ogre, or troll, or some giantish humanoid, he’s not sure which – is pulling a net out of a small pool.   A second giant is slamming a full net against the stone floor to stop the fish from flopping around.  Thump!

The only other interesting feature of the cavern is a giant-sized ladder, extending down from the ceiling in the middle of the cave, about fifty feet in.   Dranko relays all of this to the others, and they decide that Dranko will check out the ladder and ceiling shaft while the others move up close enough to cast some detection spells.  In order to get close enough the rat-looking party must emerge into the cavern a bit, and in doing so someone’s armor clinks.   One of the giants looks toward them and grunts in its own guttural language.  The party freezes – all the giant sees is rats, right?  

The giant drops its net and picks up a large club that had been resting on the ground.  It strides toward the party, licking its lips.   Yoba squeaks:  “Evil!”

The giants aren’t wearing armor, and while the clubs look plenty dangerous the Company is confident that they can take care of this problem quickly.  A bit of that confidence wavers as one of the giants swings its club into Snokas, sending him flying backward onto his back.    The giant looks a little bit puzzled – that was a surprisingly heavy rat! – but there was a meaty “thunk,” and that’s good enough.

Dranko is about forty feet up the shaft – the ladder continues up into it beyond his sight – when he hears a strange sound.

*DM:  Dranko, make me a reflex save.

Dranko:  Why?

DM:  To avoid the goat.

Dranko:  goat?

DM:  There seems to be a goat plummeting down the shaft toward you.*

A falling goat carcass clips the twisting Dranko in the shoulder, knocking him off the ladder.  He starts to _feather fall_ downward and soon lands standing on the body of a large dead goat.   

Kibi opts for a bit of distraction.  He flips the top card from his _deck of illusions_ onto the cavern floor, and up springs... another giant!  This one is a classic hill giant, about a foot taller than the cave giants, and at Kibi’s thought it shakes its club menacingly.

“Make it give the other giants a rude gesture!” thinks Ernie over the mind-link, and Kibi does just that.  The illusionary hill giant backs off a few steps and waves its club suggestively from its midsection.

Aravis has a more painful salvo in mind, and unleashes a _prismatic spray_ on one of the giants.  Only the red beam strikes, but it gets the giant’s attention away from the new foreign hill giant.  It looks toward the source of the spray and sees... a cave rat.  What?

There’s a very quick discussion now over the mind-link, during which it is decided that rather than waste more combat resources on these befuddled giants, they should just flee squeaking into the darkness.   Dranko looks into the back half of the cavern and sees that it bends in an “L” shape, out of sight.   There’s a tunnel leading out of the cavern, also at the back, on the opposite side from the leg of the “L.”  

“One more distraction, to cover our escape,” says Grey Wolf.  He starts to cast _summon the pack_.   The plan is to gather at the back of the cavern and flee through the tunnel.  Morningstar first casts a _cure critical wounds_ on Snokas.

Of course, as with most plans, things don’t go according to plan.  Dranko hears something in the dark back half of the cavern, perhaps hidden from his sight by a cluster of boulders, cast a spell.  A _blade barrier_ springs up across the center of the cavern, cutting Dranko off from the rest of the Company.

“Plan B!” thinks Morningstar.

“Which plan is that?” asks Ernie.

“Get ‘em!”

“I’m going invisible, and I’m going to sneak up and ambush whatever just cast that,” thinks Dranko over the mind-link.  But he doesn’t get the chance, as a creature emerges from the shadows and steps toward him.  It’s an eight-foot-tall humanoid figure, covered head to toe in narrow bands of steel armor.  It holds two long barbed chains, one in each hand, and the chains dance and swing of their own volition.   And if that wasn’t enough, the creature is surrounded by a cloud of animated swords and daggers, flashing and slicing the air.

“Oh,” says Dranko.  “That’s bad.  There’s a...”

Whatever Dranko was going to say tails off into silence, and then over the mind-link the rest of the Company hears Dranko let out a roar of mindless rage.

Thinking the giants are part of a carefully plotted ambush, Ernie lets loose Beryn Sur and then drops a _flame strike_ that gets one of the giants and the chain-wielding humanoid.  The giant bellows in pain (what kind of rats _are_ these?!) while the chain-thing hardly reacts at all.

“Dranko, what’s the plan?” thinks Morningstar.

“Reeaaaaargh!” answers Dranko.

A third giant comes sliding down the ladder from the vertical shaft.  It looks around in confusion, and there’s some giantish blather and commotion for a few seconds.  Kibi summons an _earth elemental_ directly adjacent to the chain-thing; it swings a rocky fist, misses, and then starts making strange incoherent noises.

What happens next is worst of all.  A small glass globe comes soaring out from the shadows at the back of the cavern and shatters on the ground in the middle of the melee.  Black vapors bubble out of it, which immediately congeal into a cluster of null shadows!  The wizards feel the horrific stinging nausea of the foul creatures wash over them, while the divine casters feel it to a lesser degree.  

“Oh, CRAP!” exclaims Aravis.

Dranko no longer has full control of his mind.   He is filled with an all-consuming wrath toward all things, and only cares about inflicting the most damage possible on whatever is closest to him.  Spells are out of the question – too much concentration required – but magic items are simple enough.  He uses a magical ring to drop an _ice storm_ on the chain-thing and one of the giants, who happen to be the two closest creatures.   Flecks of spittle fly from his mouth.

Flicker remembers what to do in the event of Null Shadows.  He pulls out a non-magical sling he keeps for just this purpose and fires a bullet at the closest shadow.   He’s rewarded with a puff of black smoke at the point of impact, though the null shadow survives.

“We should get out of here!” says Aravis.

“Yeah!” agrees Ernie.

“Reeaaaaargh!” says Dranko.

Grey Wolf’s summoning spell finishes, and three Dire Wolves appear along with a pair of regular-sized wolves.   The smaller ones immediately attack the null shadows (to no effect, they being magical creatures) while the dire trio snap at the calves of the giants.

(At this point things have reached a near fever-pitch of chaos.  The cavern now holds three giants, an illusionary hill giant, ten null shadows, three dire wolves, two normal wolves, an earth elemental, nine cave rats with strange abilities, a chain-wielding blade-surrounded armored guy, and a dead goat.  And there’s still whatever it is that threw the null shadow globe.)

Aravis’s new plan is to _dimension door_ to Dranko’s rescue (taking as many others with him as possible), have everyone else meet him there, and then have everyone _teleport_ the heck out of there.  

“Yoba,” he thinks urgently, “run over to Dranko.”

“Are you crazy?” says Yoba.  “Through the blades?”

“Sorry,” says Aravis, “but you see those black things?  They eat spellcasters.”

“They’re very, very dangerous,” adds Ernie.

“More than a _blade barrier_? asks Yoba.

“Much,” says Aravis.”

“I’m taking this on faith, you know,” says Yoba, as she grimaces and leaps through the wall of blades to Dranko.   Her scream of pain en route lets the others know she didn’t dodge as well as one would hope.

Snokas, lacking a non-magical weapon, falls back to stand next to Aravis.  Morningstar fires a _darkbeam_ at one of the giants, blinding it.  It yells and waves it club around at nothing in particular.

Somehow it gets worse.  A _second_ armored chain-thing rises up from the giants’ fishing pool, where it had been lurking unseen since the start of combat.   It wiggles its armored fingers and another _blade barrier_ springs up, further partitioning the battlefield, separating party-members from one another and making an orderly escape even less likely.  

One of the two non-blind giants pastes a wolf with its club, while the other actually does some good and obliterates one of the null shadows with a single swing.  

Ernie takes a moment to cast _true seeing_, while Kibi dismisses his enraged earth elemental.  Aravis, sticking to the grab-Dranko-and-flee plan and  finding lots of his comrades within arm’s reach, casts _dimension door_... blindly into the back half of the cavern!   They arrive in a mostly open section of cavern, but there’s a small pile of rubble where Ernie would have ended up.  The spell shunts him to a near-ish open space, which as luck would have it plops him down right next to the mass of null shadows!

“Sh*t!” he yells.  “Aravis!”

Ernie feels a wave of pure evil wash over him – and no, it’s not from the null shadows – as painful black pustules burst all over his skin.   _Then_ he’s mobbed by null shadows, who leave him covered in smeary black wounds.  The pain is intense, and he screams in anger and frustration.  

Dranko tries to bull rush Yoba into the nearest _blade barrier_ but the paladin holds her ground.  

“Dranko?  What are you...”

“Reeaaaaargh!”

“He’s gone crazy!” says Yoba, in case anyone hadn’t figured that out by now.

“I’ve got to do something about Dranko,” says Grey Wolf.   Since chains seem to be all the rage these days,  Edghar grabs a pile of small chains from Grey Wolf’s belt and drops them near Dranko.  Grey Wolf then casts _dancing chains_ on them, and several manage to wrap up and grapple Dranko.  The half-orc bellows in anger. 

“Flicker!” yells Morningstar.  “Go help Ernie!”

“That’s what I’m doing!” answers Flicker.  He continues to fire sling bullets at the null shadows, and manages to bring one down.

Morningstar decides that Dranko needs more than a grapple if they’re going to escape.  She uses her _diamond of recall_ to fill an empty spell slot with _break enchantment_.

One of the chain-things moves toward Grey Wolf and Aravis.  Aravis resists the descent into madness, but Grey Wolf feels the rage take over his mind.  He screams in anger and then glares menacingly at Aravis.  The second chain-thing puts up a _third blade barrier_, further carving up the battlefield.

Ernie notices that the blade barriers don’t extend all the way to the ceiling of the cavern, so he actives his _winged shield_ and flies upward.  Unfortunately this provokes attacks from the null shadows, attacks which leave him nearly dead.

The original giants would now like nothing more than to flee the insanity, but there are whirling blades everywhere they look.   (Clearly that hill giant is the ringleader, but his army of wolves, armored chain-wielders and magic-using rats is too much!)

Kibi puts up a _wall of force_, hoping to shield Ernie from attacks by the chain-things and giants.  He tells everyone where it is over the mind-link, and has just finished when he sees a shadowy humanoid form detach itself from the mass of boulders in the back of the cavern.  Flicker sees it too, since the person is coming straight for him.

“It’s him, it’s him!” yells Flicker.  “The guy!  The shadow guy that had the dragon!”

He’s right.  Guztha has returned.  He had waited in careful ambush for the Company to appear, and had feared that all his preparations might be ruined by a stupid giantish fishing expedition.   But the added chaos doesn’t appear to be hurting his chances.  Now Guztha slashes Flicker with his sword, and then does some nasty evil mojo that makes Flicker’s skin erupt in painful black suppurations. 

“Reeaaaaargh!” yells Dranko again.  He’s wrapped up in chains, but still tries to roll into Yoba.  She hops back as he bites at her ankle.

Grey Wolf, just as mindless, attempts to attack the nearest chain-thing through a _blade barrier_.  

*“Grey Wolf!” * admonishes Bostock.  *“What has gotten into you?  You’re going to get your hand chopped off!”*

“Reeaaaaargh!” answers Grey Wolf.   He swings through the blades and Bostock is knocked from his hand.  It skitters to a stop on the far side of the barrier.  

There follow a couple failed attempts to get rid of pesky enemy spells.  Yoba uses the _dispel magic_ ability of her Holy Avenger but it fails to either cure Grey Wolf or drop any _blade barriers_.  Morningstar’s _break enchantment_ also does nothing about Grey Wolf’s mindless rage.  Miffed, she pops off a quickened _searing darkness_ at the closest chain-thing, leaving a clean hole in its armor.  Ernie, hovering above most of the battle, heals himself.

It’s sometime around now that the giants decide they’ve had enough.  Blades be damned, they flee from this nightmare of flying spells and magic rats.  Aravis grumbles as they go.

“Great.  Our best weapons against the null shadows are running away!”

Kibi casts _hold monster_ on one of the chain-things and discovers the hard way that it has spell resistance.  Aravis decides to skirt that issue and casts _maze_ on Guztha.  The shadow-servant of the Emperor vanishes into an extradimensional pocket.

Dranko figures he can do the greatest harm to the greatest number by dropping another _ice storm_ on everyone around him, including himself.  Maybe it’s the pain of falling ice chunks, but immediately afterward he comes abruptly to his senses, with full realization of what he’s been doing.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” he thinks to the others.

“Are you back?” asks Ernie, rubbing a bruise on his head.

“Yes,” Dranko grumbles.

Having lost Bostock, Grey Wolf draws his backup longsword, a magical blade with an undead bane enchantment.  He swings at Aravis, but misses.   While Flicker starts to gingerly unwrap Dranko’s chains, Ernie thinks to Yoba:  “I need you to keep me on my feet while I take down those null shadows!”  He lands to allow Yoba to touch him.

Yoba responds by _laying on hands_, giving Ernie almost everything she has, including a double entendre.

“Praise Yondalla,” says Ernie.  “Yoba, you’ve probably just saved my life.”

As if the bad guys hadn’t filled the cavern with enough annoying walls, a new one springs up.  This one’s a _wall of fire_, which scorches Aravis.  (It might have burned Kibi as well, but his _mantle of spell resistance_ protects him.)  Aravis is just patting out his robe when a chain-thing steps toward him... and _his_ mind is overcome with a blinding anger.   He turns to his most immediate nemesis:  Grey Wolf.

Morningstar calls down a _flame strike_ on a chain-thing, though a follow-up quickened _searing darkness_ fails to penetrate its spell resistance.  Ernie draws his non-magical gartine sword and hacks a null shadow with it.   Snokas notes the tactic and grabs a non-magical morningstar out of Morningstar’s pack.  

A second goat falls out of the shaft and lands with a meaty thunk under the foot of the ladder, but no one notices.

Kibi casts _xorn movement_ to go _under_ the blades, emerges, and casts a quickened _earthbolt_ at a chain-thing but he is also foiled by its resistance.  The frustration and trepidation among the Company grows more and more palpable by the second, and it occurs to more than one party member that there may be no good way out of this mess.

That doesn’t occur to Aravis!  In a frenzy he bull-rushes Grey Wolf but merely bounces off the spellsword’s armor.  Grey Wolf grins a manic grin and slashes back with his longsword.  Null shadows continue to swarm around Ernie, while some sense the now-closer Kibi and attack the dwarven arcanist instead.  Dranko casts a ranged cure spell on Ernie, while Flicker draws a dagger and joins Ernie and Snokas in taking on the null shadows hand-to-hand.

Yoba tries another _dispel magic_ from her sword, hoping to remove at least one of the _blade barriers_.  Alas, as ill-luck would have it she only succeeds in removing the effects of the morning’s _heroes’ feast_ from Aravis and Grey Wolf.  Argh.

One of the chain-things annihilates two of the wolves, and a third chain strike scrapes off of Grey Wolf’s armor.  Morningstar tries to cast a _mass cure moderate wounds_ but loses her concentration among the ever-escalating chaos of battle.  Not to be denied, she quickens yet another _searing darkness_ and drills a new hole in a chain-thing’s armor.  

Ernie finally gets a chance to launch a full attack at the null shadows around him.  One Cleave later and he’s killed two and wounded a third.  Snokas lays down the smack with his morningstar and kills another.  Kibi fires off two spells at the closest chain-thing – _coldfire_ and a quickened _earthbolt_ – and the latter gets through its spell resistance.  Its banded armor rattles painfully.

Another giant slides down the ladder and lands in the middle of the melee.  He looks around, blinking in confusion.  He had considered a few possible explanations for all the racket he was hearing, but this wasn’t really what he was thinking of.

Aravis snarls at Grey Wolf, takes out his _vampiric rod_, and strikes Grey Wolf in the chest.  Life force is drained from one wizard and deposited in the other.  Sensing his strong arcane nature, the remaining four null shadows converge on him. One is finished off by Snokas but the remaining three bludgeon Aravis with their black vaporous fists.  Worse than the damage, his most potent prepared spell – another _maze_ – is wiped from his memory.

And speaking of which, Guztha finally finds his way out of the previous _maze_ and takes stock of the situation.   Annoyingly, none of this pesky band of do-gooders has been taken out yet.  More than half his null shadows are gone, which means his foes must have figured out their weakness incredibly quickly.  Grrrr.  And his fearsome armored servants look decidedly beat up.   At least their rage-inducing power has resulted in two of the enemy wizards trying to beat each other up.  That’s a plus.

Dranko tries to whip one of the chain-things through two _blade barriers_, but all he gets for his trouble is a nicked-up whip.  The armored thing ignores him and lashes Grey Wolf twice at range with his chains, badly raking his face.  Grey Wolf gets even more angry, if such a thing is possible.   The second chain-thing moves toward Ernie, and while the halfling doesn’t become enraged, he does get a barbed chain to the chin.

Flicker pops another null shadow with a sling stone, while Morningstar makes the decision to pull out her biggest gun.  She shapes a _firestorm_ to scorch her enemies, and when the black flames subside one of the chain-things collapses into a smoldering ruin.  (This reveals that there’s  no body inside the armor, which doesn’t actually surprise anyone.)  Guztha, however, dances between the flames and seems entirely untouched by the inferno.

Ernie finally catches a glimpse of Guztha with his _true seeing_ up, and does a double take.  Guztha is no human being, that’s for sure.  In fact....

“He’s a tiger-man!” Ernie thinks loudly over the mind-link.  “The shadow-hopping guy is a tiger-man!”  And it’s true – Guztha is of a rare species of Rakshasa, less magic-resistant than his brethren, but possessed of other dark powers.   One of which, apparently, is the power to get pummeled by a _holy smite_ from Ernie.

(The new giant comes to the only logical conclusion, similar to the earlier giants:  the hill giant must be the leader.  He swings his club at the illusion with gusto, over-balances, and nearly falls over.  He ends up spending the rest of the combat furiously swinging at the illusive enemy before fleeing back up the ladder.  The Company never sees him again.)

Out of desperation as much as anything, Kibi decides to cast _hold monster_ on Guztha.  He knows that his _hold_ spells almost never work, and Guztha is probably all kinds of immune to this sort of thing, but he tries it anyway.  

Guztha comes to a sudden halt, his features frozen in place.

“I got him!” cries Kibi exultantly.  “I got him!”

And after that, it’s mostly just a matter of mopping up.   Oh, there’s some additional excitement before the end.  Dranko ends up getting enraged again, but he takes out most of his anger on the conveniently-stationary Guztha before moving on to the wily hill giant.  The remaining chain-thing gets a few more licks in on Dranko and Kibi.   Aravis and Grey Wolf continue to trade blows, all the while ignoring the fact that they’re taking continuous damage from the _wall of fire_.   And the null shadows get a few more hits in.

But Snokas and Flicker slay the remaining null shadows, Morningstar’s mass cure spells keep up with the escalating damage, and the chain-thing is struck by an _earthbolt_ from Kibi, a powerful magical dagger attack from Flicker, a _flame strike_ from Morningstar and (finally) a _searing light_ from Ernie that finishes it off.  

As for Guztha, he endures attacks from Dranko and Kibi before feeling life return to his limbs, but before he can take any actions Dranko delivers a final barrage of whip-strikes that knocks him unconscious.   And when Dranko’s enraged attention then turns to the hill giant, Ernie grabs _Beryn Sur_ and finishes off the evil Guztha with one swift stroke.  

It seems incredible, but the Company has emerged from the ambush with everyone still alive.  

Whew.

...to be continued...


----------



## Jackylhunter

Holy cow, that was a tense one.  I thought for sure someone was going to die.  

Were those Null shadows somehow more powerfull?  

I can totally imagine KC's reaction to having Hold Monster stick, it almost never does when my characters cast it either.

Great story as always


----------



## coyote6

Sheer chaos. Those PC reflexes ("Giants! Kill 'em!") sure can be amusing . . .


----------



## RangerWickett

Nifty. Haha, you have super rare monsters that no one will know how to hurt. Too bad your foes are time travelers!

I hope one of the PCs invests in Microsoft while he's in the past.


----------



## shilsen

Brilliant!

Am I the only person who thought Dranko getting smacked by a dead goat was the best part of the encounter?


----------



## el-remmen

"He's a Tiger-man!"

I love it.


----------



## Solarious

Someone has been having a lot of fun with the Monster Manuals. I believe the Chain-thing (A Ragewalker) and the 'tigerman' (A variant Rakshasha... the Shadowdancer version, I think?) are both possessed of the 3'rd generation. 

All the spellcasters hates the Null Shadows more than the Blade Barriers. That's just hilarious.  But I share the sentiment that the falling goats were the perfect touch!


----------



## thatdarncat

woot update!


----------



## wolff96

*Does a happy dance*

Yeah, more story hour!  

And I'd give a lot to have a photo of PC's face when you asked for the Reflex Save to avoid a falling goat...  of all the phrases a player DOESN'T expect to hear!


----------



## KidCthulhu

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> I hope one of the PCs invests in Microsoft while he's in the past.




Ernie and Aravis were evil for a time.  Does that count?


----------



## blargney the second

That was brilliant!  I now understand what you said earlier about this being a particularly difficult session to transcribe.  Wow.


----------



## Zaruthustran

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Ernie and Aravis were evil for a time.  Does that count?




Speaking of which... did the murder of helpless, KO'd Guztha seem like Good Ernie to you? Or did the proximity to the shadows bring back Bad Ernie?


----------



## Tamlyn

Solarious said:
			
		

> Someone has been having a lot of fun with the Monster Manuals. I believe the Chain-thing (A Ragewalker) and the 'tigerman' (A variant Rakshasha... the Shadowdancer version, I think?) are both possessed of the 3'rd generation.




Gotta say, I love the 3rd Monster Manual. There's all kinds of interesting stuff in there!

And quite the session. I have kind of a love-hate feeling towards those, they're tons of fun, but a pain to run. Sagiro, sounds like you did an excellent job keeping the illusions in play through the whole thing. How many times have DM's forgotten little things like this in all the chaos?


----------



## Solarious

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> Speaking of which... did the murder of helpless, KO'd Guztha seem like Good Ernie to you? Or did the proximity to the shadows bring back Bad Ernie?



Let's see... evil minion of the Emperor escapes one encounter, sets up second encounter which threatens to kill them all, and one of the PCs decides it's too much trouble keeping him alive to set up a second ambush (involving more Null Shadows, probably)?

I'd give Ernie the benefit of the doubt and whistle innocently.


----------



## Gold Roger

Solarious said:
			
		

> Let's see... evil minion of the Emperor escapes one encounter, sets up second encounter which threatens to kill them all, and one of the PCs decides it's too much trouble keeping him alive to set up a second ambush (involving more Null Shadows, probably)?
> 
> I'd give Ernie the benefit of the doubt and whistle innocently.



Ne, he's a fiend, even I have no compunctions about this one.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> Speaking of which... did the murder of helpless, KO'd Guztha seem like Good Ernie to you? Or did the proximity to the shadows bring back Bad Ernie?




You know, it never occured to me.  We knew he could come out of the hold at any time, and he had abilities to move and escape and summnon badness that might or might not be mentally triggered, so at the time it felt very much like we were in combat with him.  No feeling that he was helpless.


----------



## Solarious

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> You know, it never occured to me.  We knew he could come out of the hold at any time, and he had abilities to move and escape and summnon badness that might or might not be mentally triggered, so at the time it felt very much like we were in combat with him.  No feeling that he was helpless.



 Yeah, he might return like Sargio to bite you in the ass 3 years later.


----------



## Sejs

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> Speaking of which... did the murder of helpless, KO'd Guztha seem like Good Ernie to you? Or did the proximity to the shadows bring back Bad Ernie?




The guy's a walking Bad Day.  Wickedness incarnate and servant of the Emperor.  Slippery as you please and twice as viscious.  And, as we so learned, he's a fiend to boot.

Just because he lost a fight (that he himself started, thank you very much) does not all of a sudden turn him into innocent little Polly Pureheart.

So, no.  That wasn't a resurgence of Bad Ernie.  Yondalla's boy was doing just _fine_.



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> “Plan B!” thinks Morningstar.
> 
> “Which plan is that?” asks Ernie.
> 
> “Get ‘em!”




That was your whole plan, Ray?  'Get them'?


----------



## Piratecat

shilsen said:
			
		

> Am I the only person who thought Dranko getting smacked by a dead goat was the best part of the encounter?



Quiet, you.


----------



## Zaruthustran

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> You know, it never occured to me.  We knew he could come out of the hold at any time, and he had abilities to move and escape and summnon badness that might or might not be mentally triggered, so at the time it felt very much like we were in combat with him.  No feeling that he was helpless.




But he was unconscious, so mental abilities wouldn't work. I guess he could have been faking the KO. 

That's the part that seemed weird to me. Not that you guys whaled on a Held foe, but that Ernie beheaded him when he was already neutralized.

No worries, though. Cool combat!


----------



## CTSparky

*just wanted to say*

After a few weeks reading Steven AC's PDF's I'm finally caught up.

Thank you all for the wonderful story.


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

shilsen said:
			
		

> Brilliant!
> 
> Am I the only person who thought Dranko getting smacked by a dead goat was the best part of the encounter?




No you are not the only one.   

and after 3 months of not having time to read the storyhour forum, It's nice to know I wasn't too far behind in my reading.


----------



## Miles Pilitus

Been reading this story hour on and off for a few years, but I've just come back to it and read it's length.

Sagiro, you run an amazing game.


----------



## Everett

I'll chime in on the dead goat.  Dead goat was rockin'.


----------



## Solarious

Sorry Piratecat, the masses have decreed that the falling of dead goats on Danko was masterful.

As do I.


----------



## KidCthulhu

There really are just not enough falling goats in modern D&D.  I blame our permissive society.  And Sagiro.


----------



## Everett

I can just see something really classic in there about dead goats crossing roads.


----------



## Everett

1...and lo, a silence fell across the land.  For the update was over, the message board grown still.  

2 And a voice spake into the chasm, saying thus:  I am the LORD.  I am the roller of fractional dice, the maker of dead goats.  

3 I am He that has too much time on His hands.  I am the Politically-Correct killer of merriment.  In Me does all life wither and look dejectedly at the floor.  In Me songs die and hopes are dashed into bland meaninglessness.  In Me does the ego splinter.  In Me is the source of magic, and I am That which shatters a really good wisecrack beyond all hope of repair.  I, the LORD, do all these things.

4 And the lake was still and silent, and nary a ripple moved across it that was not Shrugged at most blankly.

******

Hm.  Decent writing, no?


----------



## Everett

bump.

One at a time, please, one at a time...


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 267*_
*Killer Magic Rats*

The first thing that occurs to Aravis and Grey Wolf when the rage subsides is that it’s uncomfortably hot, standing so close to a _wall of fire_.  It’s not long before it and the various _blade barriers_ vanish, leaving the Company in a suddenly quiet cavern.  Grey Wolf takes a few steps and picks up Bostock.

*Grey Wolf!  What happened to you?*

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Grey Wolf grumbles.

*You were not yourself.*

“That would be an accurate summary, yes.”

*You seem to have recovered.  Are we out of danger?  Are there more foes to be slain?*

It appears not.  The giants fled either in the direction from which the Company arrived, or into the vertical shaft in the ceiling, and there’s no sign of them returning.  

“Who wants healing?” calls Dranko.

“Me!” says Kibi, eager to be first in line.  Then, always practical, he adds:  “Let’s not forget to collect the loot!”

 The chain-things and null shadows left nothing of value behind, but a search of Guztha’s corpse nets four magic items:  a mithril shirt, a silver ring, an ebony wand, and a short sword.   What they were hoping to find – but don’t – was some correspondence to or from the Emperor.  (In fact, Guztha had never returned to Emperor Naloric after his first failure.  One does not go before the Emperor with a vital task unfinished if one expects to live.  No, having realized he was up against casters, he had gone for the null shadow globe and a pair of ragewind tokens before picking up the scent of the Company again and planning an ambush.) 

“I told you he had a backup plan,” says Morningstar.

“I wonder how he found us again so fast?” muses Aravis.

“I think it’s your blood,” says Kibi.  “I think he just... knows where you are.”

There’s a flurry of random discussions while some more healing is applied.  Bostock manages to convince Grey Wolf not to decapitate Guztha’s body out of hand.  There’s talk of casting _speak with dead_ on Guztha’s corpse but it never gets further than that.   There’s also the worry that they’ll possibly be leading more pursuers right to Cranchus, but Aravis points out that there’s no use worrying about that as they can hardly turn back now.  They should just go as quickly as they can to minimize the danger.

These conversations cease as Dranko holds up a hand and motions for quiet.   In the silence that follows, everyone hears a noise from the ceiling shaft.   It sounds like a giant is slowly descending the ladder – maybe trying to sneak down and away now that the fighting has stopped.

Dranko readies his whip, moves to stand near the ladder and starts counting meaningfully downward from five.  The giant responds in his foreign giantish tongue, and while his voice sounds panicky he keeps descending, until he finally drops down into the cavern next to Dranko.  He looks down and raises his club.

“You know,” says Kibi.  “You still look like a rat.”

Dranko practically smacks his forehead.  “Oh, for the love of...”

He strikes several times with his whip, though only to subdue.   The giant, faced with a vicious whip-wielding rat, grabs the ladder and flees for his life back up the shaft.

“You’re going to be single-handedly responsible for putting their whole race off of rats as food,” smirks Grey Wolf.

A thorough exploration of the back of the cavern reveals an exit tunnel, which, after it bends a few times over the course of fifty yards, ends at a thick wooden wall with a giant-sized door.  They retreat back to the battle-cave where Morningstar spends fifteen minutes praying for a new _find the path_.   Hiding as best they can at the original front-end of the cave, they hear the sound of the giant again, dropping down from the shaft.  No one thinks it’s worth bothering the poor thing at this point, and they listen to its retreating footsteps as it runs toward the giantish door.   They hear a loud banging, followed by some giantish talk and a door creaking open.  A few seconds later they hear it close again, followed by the noise of a bar dropping.

No surprise – the _find the path_ indicates they need to go through that door after all.   It’s only a matter of minutes to walk back to it, at which point Aravis casts _gaseous form_ on himself and slips _underneath_ to see what’s on the other side.   He sees a giant sitting in a huge chair with his back to the door.  He doesn’t see Aravis, but does seem nervous and generally on the alert.  Aravis slips back under the door, and there’s a brief discussion on how to proceed.

Kibi finally activates his _Ioun stone of tongues_ and shouts out:

“Hey, Mr. Giant over there!  We’re going to pass through.  We don’t mean you any harm. Er... unless you get in our way.”

“Who’s that?” barks the giant.  They can hear the sound of him jumping up from his chair.

“Who do you think it is?” asks Kibi.

“I don’t know,” answers the giant.

“You’ve noticed strange things happening recently, right?” prompts Kibi.

“Um.  I haven’t _seen_ anything, but... are you a rat?”

“Maybe I am a rat,” says Kibi menacingly.  “Maybe I’m the ghost of every rat you giants have ever torn limb from limb or bashed with a club!”

“What?” replies the Giant, now sounding confused.

“I think that’s too much for him to understand,” says Aravis.

Kibi sighs.  “Let us through, and we’ll just leave you alone.  We won’t have to break down your door or hurt anyone.”

“You can’t break the door,” answers the giant.  “You’re a rat!”

“Are you going to do what we ask, or not?” asks Kibi. “You’ll regret it if you don’t...”

“Shoo!” barks the giant.  “Shoo!”

Aravis cracks his knuckles.  “Are we ready to go?”

There are nods all around, and Aravis casts _disintegrate_ on the door.  The entire thing turns to dust.  The bar falls with a clank and the giant leaps back.

“We warned you!” says Kibi.

The giant stares down at the pack of rats and the remains of the door.   A moment later he is running away down the tunnel, screaming at the top of his lungs.  “Help!  Killer magic rats!  Help, help!  Killer Rats!  Killer magic rats!”

“That was awesome!” says Dranko.

“Most impressive,” Grey Wolf agrees.

“Do you think these things work for Crunchy?” ponders Morningstar.

“I think it’s possible he enjoys having them there,” says Aravis, “though I doubt they work _for_ him.”

Dranko chimes in.  “My theory is that, now, in this point in time, Cranchus is evil.  That’s why he has evil giants working for him.   And it’s going to fall to us to turn him good.”

“I don’t believe it,” says Kibi, affronted.  “I’m sure he’s good.”

They continue on, following the _find the path_.  It leads them through a snaking giant-sized tunnel which eventually opens into an truly enormous bowl-shaped cavern, easily several hundred yards on a side.  They are up near the lip of the bowl, looking down upon the wooden and stone buildings of a giantish town.

“A ha!” says Dranko.  “That shaft leads to their goat farm up on the surface.  They drop down the goats for food to feed the village.  It also explains how the bad guys got there before us.  They came down the goat shaft.”

According to Morningstar’s spell, the best way to proceed has them going around the rim of the cavern, avoiding the town altogether.  They can hear some commotion in the town, and in the light of torches they can see a dozen or so giants gathered in a central square.  Kibi strains to hear, and it sounds like one is explaining that there might be an attack of super-rats, and they need to be prepared to defend the town.  There’s laughter at this notion.   

“Just go back and get the goats, will you?”

Kibi stifles a laugh.


* *

The way out is much like the way in.  This time the giant guarding the door is facing them, but word of the invading rat army hasn’t yet gotten this far.  It eyes the rats with detached interest.

“Let us through!” demands Kibi.

The giant looks around.  “Who’s there?”

“We’re the magic rats!” says Kibi.  “Let us through.”

“Talking rats?”

The giant stands and takes a step toward them.

“Open the door, and we’ll never bother you again.  Otherwise we’ll blow your door down and rats will attack your village!”

The giant chuckles.  “You’re talking rats... talking rats... heh.”

“I’m warning you,” says Kibi.  “Let us...”

The giant reaches down to pick up Kibi, but Dranko is ready for this.  He whips the giant’s hand, and the giant yanks his arm back in pain.

“Ow!” he bellows.

“Let us through,” says Kibi.

The giant peers down at the assembled rats.

“I’m going to have to discuss this with the chief,” he says nervously.

“He won’t believe you,” says Kibi.  “It be easier for everyone if you just let us through.”

The giant reaches down again, this time for Kibi’s nonexistent tail.

“Hey,” says the giant, puzzled.  “What the...”

The next warning shot is a _lightning bolt_ from Aravis.

“Aargh!  Hey!”

“We warned you,” sighs Kibi.

“Er... right,” says the giant.  “Um... wait here!  I’m getting the chief.”

And with that, the giant takes off running toward the town.  A few minutes later he’s going to be surprised at how seriously everyone in Smashtown takes his warning.

While the giant flees, the Company uses the giant’s chair to reach and lift the bar on the door.   On the other side, Aravis casts _arcane lock_ on the door once they’re through.   

_Find the path_ leads them down yet more giantish tunnels, always sloping downward, always getting just a little bit warmer.  A few minutes later they find another wall-and-door blocking the passage, but it’s long been abandoned, the door hanging open and the chair rotting.  

On the other side, the _find the path_ starts to waver, even though it’s not due to expire for many more minutes.  This seems like a good place to stop for the day and set up _rope tricks_.

“Ordinarily I’d complain about being stuck in this featureless room again,” says Flicker, once he’s climbed the rope.  “But it’s hardly more claustrophobic than outside, and it’s much cooler.”

They use the opportunity to identify the magic items taken from Guztha.  These include a _greater ring of cold resistance_ (which he had acquired specifically because of Morningstar), a _wand of spell immunity_ (which was specifically to insulate himself from _dimensional anchor_), a mithril shirt, and a +3 short sword of sure-striking.   


* *

Morningstar’s _find the paths_ may no longer be functioning, but as there’s only one way to continue the Company decides to press on until they reach a branch in the tunnel.   For another hour the passage heads gently downward, and everyone is starting to sweat.

“Kibi!” exclaims Scree suddenly.  “Do you feel that?  It’s... it’s a little like Het Branoi.  There’s Earth Magic coming from somewhere.”

Kibi stops and concentrates.  Yes!  It’s faint, but he can sense it in the rock around him.

“Hey!” he says out loud.  “It’s kind of thrummy around here.”

“Describe ‘thrummy,’” says Aravis.

“Like Het Branoi,” explains Kibi.  “There’s Earth Magic here.”

That prompts Morningstar to try casting another _sending_ to Cranchus, but there’s still no reply.  It’s hot enough now that the casters make sure everyone has an _endure elements_ active.

They forge ahead and downward, leaving the giants far behind.  (Not surprisingly, there is no sign of pursuit.)  They start to see beetles in greater numbers, and a thick lichen growing on the warm tunnel walls.  It begins to creep into some of their minds that they might have missed some concealed branch and be headed for who-knows-where, when Dranko (still on point) sees that up ahead the tunnel opens into another large space illuminated by a ruddy glow.  Scouting ahead he finds that the cavern is huge, extending past the range of his darkvision in all directions.   More significantly, though, this new cavern is bisected by a tremendous chasm, a hundred feet across and at least that deep.  A river of lava runs along the chasm floor, and it’s this that provides the illumination.   Dranko peers down into it and feels the heat blast upward into his face.

A bit more scouting reveals that there’s no way out of the cavern (aside from how they came in) on this side of the chasm.   There’s a broken-off stub of a stone bridge that extends maybe twenty or thirty feet over the lava-filled ravine.  Dranko casts _detect magic_ and finds that the bridge is real and solid enough, for as far as it goes.  He laments not having Kay around to check for traps.

When the rest of the party gets the all-clear from Dranko, Morningstar arrives firsts and casts three _thought captures_ at the foot of the bridge.  

The first thought:  _It’s going to take forever to smash this bridge._

The second thought:  _I hope Smash is right about the things not flying._

She guesses that both of the these thoughts are from one of the giants.

The third thought is from Dranko:  _Nope, not an illusion!_

Kibi examines the broken bridge, musing on its strength and construction and what it must have taken to destroy it.   He makes the mistake of using the word “buttress” within earshot of Dranko, who immediately starts to chuckle.

“Buttress. Kibi said Buttress.  Hee hee.”

Grey Wolf rolls his eyes.  “At least you’re good looking,” he says to Dranko.

Bridge or no bridge, the Company doesn’t consider the ravine much of an obstacle.  They use _wind walk_ to drift out over the chasm toward the far side. 

They’re thirty feet across when the spell starts to fail.

...to be continued...


----------



## blargney the second

dun dun DUNNNN...


----------



## Tamlyn

Brilliant session!


----------



## Everett

Nice.


----------



## Brogarn

*envisions Wile E Coyote cartoon*

Tell me... the players didn't happen to have picket signs with "UH OH" written on them, did they?


----------



## Zaruthustran

Wow, nice "Doh!" moment.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Brogarn said:
			
		

> *envisions Wile E Coyote cartoon*
> 
> Tell me... the players didn't happen to have picket signs with "UH OH" written on them, did they?




No, we had tiny comedy umbrellas.


----------



## Brogarn

Either way, don't look down! Soon as you do, you fall. At least according to the physics I learned every Saturday morning.


----------



## Everett

Physics taught you that you fall if you look down while flying magically over a giant chasm?

Hm.  That's some kind of new-age physics to me...


----------



## Sejs

Everett said:
			
		

> Physics taught you that you fall if you look down while flying magically over a giant chasm?
> 
> Hm.  That's some kind of new-age physics to me...




You never read any of the works that Professor Coyote published?

He's a super-genius, you know.


----------



## Everett

No, I'll take 'celebrity dirt' instead for $200.


----------



## Everett

Uhm.  Or another update.

Or some tea.


----------



## CTSparky

Everett said:
			
		

> Uhm.  Or another update.
> 
> Or some tea.




Tea is good.  Update is better.


----------



## darkhall-nestor

I have only had a few opportunities to play D&D since high school and after reading this post and a few others I have rekindled an interest in gaming. I thought I had outgrown.

I recently found a large stash of all my first edition Ad&D rule books and modules and am having a good time reading through them.

I wondered if Sagiro, Piratcat or Spyscribe or anyone else of there caliber have considered publishing a printed version.

I thank you for reigniting my interest

My wife however does not

Thanks


----------



## Dawn

darkhall-nestor said:
			
		

> I thank you for reigniting my interest




Same thing happened to me.  I totally missed 2nd Edition and got back into it in time to get 3rd as it came out (and then upgrade to v3.5 - for more money of course).


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

Dawn said:
			
		

> Same thing happened to me.  I totally missed 2nd Edition and got back into it in time to get 3rd as it came out (and then upgrade to v3.5 - for more money of course).




Our group was still forming when 3.5 was just coming out, we were able to skip 3.0 and go straight to 3.5 without the sidelined books.  These story hours and this forum have helped keep my interest in the game going as well.

GW


----------



## KidCthulhu

darkhall-nestor said:
			
		

> I thank you for reigniting my interest
> 
> My wife however does not




Welcome back!  If you'd like to get your wife interested in gaming, I'd suggest starting with something like Spycraft or d20 Modern.  Many people who can't wrap their heads around the concept of gaming have problems because they don't know what a wizard would do in a given situation.  

But most people have seen an action or spy movie.  It's easier for them to visualize the situation when you say "Ok, you're trying to break into the vault at the Bellagio casino" than it is to say "you're confronting the dark naga".  And with familiarity comes enjoyment and willingness to try other things.

Pick a movie you've both seen, like Charlie's Angels or something like that and model a simple adventure on that.  And because they're D20 systems, when you go to move to D&D, many of the mechanics will be familiar and will work the same way!


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 268*_
*Earth Magic*

“We’re sinking!”

There’s panic in Flicker’s voice.  They’re not sinking fast, and that’s something, but the _wind walk_ no longer seems strong enough to keep them aloft.   In only a few seconds they are below the edges of the chasm and wafting downward toward the lava.

They’re still closer to where they started than they are to the far side, so the Company does an about face and flies back, but it’s no good – for every foot they travel laterally they sink a foot vertically.  Desperately they scan the ravine wall for ledges, and Ernie spots one about forty feet below the cliff edge.  It’s not clear that they’ll make it, but there’s no better alternative.  

They barely reach the shelf.  It’s a ledge long enough for all of them to stand on, but extremely narrow – not more than two feet wide.   Soon they are all standing on the ledge, backs to the wall.  Staying in wind-form makes it easier to stay balanced, and that’s a good thing, what with the river of lava flowing below.  The heat is intense.

As dire straights go, though, this one isn’t so bad.  Dranko and Flicker come out of wind form and proceed to scale the cliff face until they’re safely up at the top.  Dranko activates the _immovable rod_ given him by One Certain Step, and Flicker deftly ties a rope around it, sending the loose end over the edge to those waiting below.

Ernie goes first, turning solid and keeping his balance while tying the rope around his waist.  (Every member of the Company is an expert at typing ropes around their waists, since that was Standard Operating Procedure when going through the Ways of Het Branoi.)  Dranko and Flicker heave and pull Ernie up to safety.  He’s a surprisingly heavy load – it must be all the plate mail.

“Why didn’t I make you float-y armor?” grumbles Dranko.

“Because you were too busy making fart-y armor,” says Ernie with a smile.  (Which is true.  Ernie’s armor, you may recall, makes a flatulent sound when the pinky of the left gauntlet is pulled.)

Everyone is soon safely back at “ground level,” looking down at the lava and breathing sighs of relief.  Dranko reverts to wind form, but while he can assume the misty aspect, he can’t gain any elevation.  Something has severely degraded the magic of the _wind walk_.  Aravis casts _greater arcane sight_ and notes right away that Earth Magic is all around them, emanating from the surrounding stone.   He also sees that the _wind walk_ effect on folks is weakened almost to the point of being dispelled.  

“I suspect this Earth Magic saturation will prevent us from doing any kind of flying,” he says.

Squinting across the chasm, Morningstar thinks she can just make out a tunnel mouth on the far side, but she’s not sure.  The wizards could _dimension door_ or _teleport_ across, but it’s so dim on the other side they’re reluctant to take the risk.    Flicker is able to solve that problem; with his amazing climbing skills he scales one of the cavern walls and then picks his way _across the ceiling_.  The rough, natural stone provides him all the hand- and foot-holds he needs, and though it takes him almost an hour he crosses the chasm and climbs down on the other side.  Once there he lights a torch, and when he reports over the mind-link that the ground around him is relatively flat, the wizards are able to _dim door_ the Company across.    There they find that Morningstar was correct: there’s a narrow tunnel here bored into the rock wall.

“Let me just remind everyone,” says Dranko, peering down into the tunnel, “that the giants smashed that bridge because they were afraid of the monsters that live over here on this side.”

They’re out of _find the paths_ but since there’s only one tunnel out, they figure it won’t lead them astray.  It’s low and narrow, squeezing the Company into a single-file line in the darkness.   Dranko is still on point, warning the others over the mind-link where he encounters treacherous footing.  After half an hour he thinks he sees the tunnel terminate at a pit, but when he gets closer he discovers that the tunnel dips sharply down and becomes almost vertical for ten feet before leveling out again.   Carefully they navigate the bend, and while there are no traps or monsters to be seen, Kibi does clearly feel the Earth Magic in his bones that Scree described earlier, in almost Het Branoi-ish quantities.   So it is that when the Company reaches a T-junction with no signs to suggest one way or the other, Kibi is able to concentrate on the Earth Magic around him and determine the way from which it generally emanates.

“The right fork,” he says after a time. 

“Why?” asks Flicker.

 “The Earth Magic is stronger that way.  More thrummy.  Can’t you feel it?”

Well, no, of course Flicker can’t.  Neither can anyone save Kibi and Scree, but the group trusts the dwarf’s judgment, and on they go.

Not long after that the tunnel opens into a large-ish cavern with three possible ways out.  Two of these are at ground level, while the third is high up on the cavern wall, reachable by a narrow sloping ramp of stone.

“Time to use the dwarven dowsing rod,” says Aravis.

While Kibi concentrates, Dranko hears an odd sound emanating from one of the ground-level tunnels.   It sounds like a tiny rockslide, and before there can be much discussion about what it might be, a strange rat comes scurrying out of the tunnel.   Everyone can see at once that it’s not normal: its skin is rough, gray, almost stony, and it has no fur.   On closer examination they see its rat-shape is only approximate, more like a rat-shaped collection of rocks with a tail.  In fact, it resembles nothing so much as a cross between Scree and a cave rat.

“That’s pretty cool!” exclaims Kibi.

“No,” corrects Grey Wolf.  “That’s _just wrong._.”

“Should I check out the tunnel?” asks Dranko.

“Nah,” says Aravis.  “Let’s wait for Kibi, and stay on target.”

A few more earth-rats follow the first, and they swarm over a piece of food that Dranko tosses to them.  Kibi finally decides that the Earth Magic is strongest in the other ground-level tunnel, so Flicker and Dranko go on ahead to scout and check for traps.

It’s about equal parts tunnels and caverns, all highly reminiscent of the caves they traversed while searching for Carbuncle.   Every time there’s a question of which way to go, Kibi provides an answer with a minute or two of effort.   They joke as they travel that, while they’re here so far in the past, they should just write the _Prophecies of the Orcish Crusades_ themselves, and leave copies strewn around the place.

“Dear Okhot One-Eye,” says Aravis, imagining how he’d start it off.  “The Bloodseer is a traitor...”

Flicker interrupts the frivolous mind-link banter   “Dranko, look out! Back back back!”

The tunnel they’re in is narrow – maybe six feet wide and seven feet high.  Dranko instinctively leaps back and catches a glimpse of movement as he does so.  A few feet ahead of him something is dripping down from the ceiling through wide cracks.   

_No_, he corrects himself quickly.  _Not dripping, so much as pouring._

Black goo is spilling down from above and pooling on the floor of the tunnel.   The rate at which it collects is astonishing, and as Flicker and Dranko hop further back it begins to fill up the tunnel ahead of them.  It’s like thick black tar mixed with gravel.   It smells like acid.

“Fall back!” Dranko thinks urgently to the others, who have just stepped into the tunnel from a cavern a hundred feet back.   The rest of the Company takes his advice, retreating back to the cavern while Flicker and Dranko start to run.  

“Back to the cavern, and hammer it with spells!” thinks Dranko.

Flicker and Dranko are going as fast as they can now, chased by a grinding, sloshing sound and an acidic tang.  Dranko looks back over his shoulder and sees that the black goo is filling the entire tunnel and spilling toward them like an acidic wave.   As soon as he and Flicker escape the tunnel, Dranko buys them some time with a _wall of ice_ cast a few feet in.   Everyone backs up, spells ready for when the monstrous ooze emerges.  They hear the hissing of the _wall of ice_ dissolving under the onslaught...

With a tremendous sploosh the black blob comes gushing out of the tunnel mouth, expanding as it enters the larger cavern.  All told it’s almost twenty feet around and piled up taller than a halfling, a seething mass of acidic goo mixed with stones.   Aravis greets the Earth Ooze with a _disintegrate_ but only a tiny section of it bubbles away.  Morningstar follows with a _searing darkness_, and Grey Wolf with a _lightning bolt_.  To his dismay the bolt becomes diminished as soon as it leaves his fingertips; the Earth Magic around them has a suppressing effect on it.

Dranko strikes it with his whip, while Kibi cast _earthbolt_ and Ernie uses a _wand of searing darkness_.  On the one hand the Earth Ooze isn’t hard to hit, but on the other hand, the sum of all these attacks doesn’t seem to have made much of dent in the huge thing.

The Earth Ooze extends a pseudopodia and lashes out at Ernie.  It strikes the halfling and sets his armor smoking, but with his _belt of equality_ (which grants him the same size bonus as his opponent for all opposed grapple checks) Ernie manages to break free of its oozing grasp.

Aravis smiles and casts _maze_.  The Ooze vanishes, leaving only a lingering acrid smell behind.  It’s a good bet that the Ooze, lacking a notable intelligence, will be in there for the full duration of the spell.  Dranko wastes no time in producing his _decanter of endless water_ and spraying down Ernie’s dissolving armor.  He’s in time to save it from total destruction but while it retains its magical properties, it’s still full of holes.  

“We want to be very far away from here ten minutes from now,” says Grey Wolf, gesturing back into the tunnel.

Kibi casts an enclosing _wall of stone_ where the Ooze will be when it emerges from the _maze_, and the Company beats a hasty exit from the cavern.  On and on they go into the darkness, and downward, always downward.  The heat continues to grow steadily, becoming uncomfortable to those without _endure elements_ in place.   Then Dranko reports that for a second time the tunnel is sloping downward, but this time curves down to become a vertical shaft whose bottom is beyond his _darkvision_.

They jam the _immovable_ rod into a rocky corner, activate it, and Flicker ties one end from the _bag of endless rope_ around it.  Dranko then rappels down, reporting mentally as he goes.  It's fortunate that the bag has much rope as it does – it’s over 200 feet down before Dranko’s feet touch the ground!  The shaft is irregular in width and not exactly straight, but is consistently narrow -- narrow enough, in fact, that at the bottom Dranko is obliged to stand sideways.  He informs the others that he’s in a cramped crevasse that stretches away in both directions, with a ceiling of about eight feet once beyond the shaft itself.

Down they go.   It’s not as perilous at it seems at first, since the chimney is so narrow that if one were to slip from the rope, one could simply extend one’s legs and become wedged in.  But it takes a long time to descend (with Flicker coming last, having retrieved the _immovable rod_), and the bottom is a claustrophobe’s nightmare.  They are obliged to line up in single file, and when Kibi indicates which way they should go (the Earth Magic has reached new heights of intensity down here) the non-halflings have to walk sideways in order to fit.  Kibi thinks that lava has passed through this subterranean crack, though not recently.   

The gap slowly becomes narrower, until Snokas has to back everyone up a few feet and shimmy out of his armor.  He drags it behind him as they continue on – it’s the only way both he and the armor will fit.   But just when it seems the fissure will become untenably narrow, it empties the Company into the largest single cavern they’ve ever seen.

How, you might ask, can they tell the size of the cavern, given that their _darkvision_ only extends 60’?  

It’s because the whole of the cavern, eighty feet high and well over a hundred feet across, is illuminated by the green glow of an enormous emerald embedded in the center of the ceiling.   It’s a bit tricky to gauge accurately, given the perspective, but Flicker estimates that the visible face of the emerald is over eight _feet_ in diameter.

Dranko drops to his knees.  “Oh, Delioch.  I know I haven’t been the best cleric, but I thank you for answering all my prayers.  I’ll be a good half-orc from now on.”

Flicker just stands there, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide.

Kibi, while acknowledging the emerald is impressive, also notes that the far wall of the cavern is unusually flat – neither exactly natural nor wholly man-made.  Perhaps it’s natural stone that’s been magically reinforced?  He’s not sure.

Grey Wolf taps Flicker on the shoulder.  “How do you expect to _carry_ that?”

Flicker shakes his head.   “I can just climb up there and start chipping bits away.  They fall, we collect them, and...

“Flicker,” interrupts Aravis.  “Have you noticed that the emerald is _glowing?_  Perhaps chipping bits out of it would be a bad idea.”

“Delioch is making it glow so that I can see it, and take it home...” says Dranko reverently. 

“Don’t lick it!” says Ernie, suddenly alarmed.

Dranko turns and grins at him.  “Licking it is first on the agenda.”

“How much do you think it’s worth?” asks Snokas, putting his armor back on.

Flicker gazes upward.  He doesn’t have a good frame of reference for something like this, but he does some quick math in his head.

“I’d say it’s worth about four or five Charagans,” he declares.

“How much is that in gold pieces?” asks Aravis.

“I don’t know,” answers Flicker.  “I can’t count that high.”

Dranko just giggles like a little kid.   “This is the best day of my life,” he says.  He hasn’t taken his eyes off the emerald for one second since emerging into this cavern.

Ernie nudges him.  “Expect for the day you married Morningstar,” he prompts.

“Right, right,” says Dranko.  “Except for that.”

“I don’t think I believe you,” says Morningstar, grinning at her husband.

Dranko tears his eyes off the green gem and looks at his wife.  “Morningstar, I would not throw you over for that emerald.  I’d cry, sure, but I’d pick you every time.”

Having said that, he turns to Flicker.  “Here’s what we need to do.  We rig up a harness with the _immovable rod_ and some rope up there on the ceiling.  I’ve got a pick and some chisels.”

“Yup,” agrees Flicker.  “First order of business is getting it out of the roof.”

While Flicker and Dranko scheme, the others start to cast around glances, looking for exits but seeing none.  Morningstar casts _true seeing_ and sees nothing hidden or illusionary.  The emerald is really an emerald, albeit magical.   Eventually they decide to send a group, led by Kibi and Flicker, out to investigate the flattish wall on the far side of the cavern.  Dranko, Morningstar and Snokas hang back in case of emergency.

Slowly the group walks into the expansive emptiness, their faces and armor green from the light of the gem above.  Flicker, who’s supposed to be checking for traps, keeps looking up longingly.   And right about when he’s underneath it, the emerald moves.

With a grinding sound of rock-on-rock the emerald slides slowly out of the ceiling, but this is no falling-rock trap.   No, what comes out of the ceiling of this cavern is an earth elemental, a creature so large that the enormous emerald turns out to be one of its _eyes._  Another emerald comes into view as the head emerges, and the enormous body follows.  The mountainous form flips around, and a sixty-foot-tall earth elemental crashes to the ground feet first, its green eyes blazing.  The impact of its landing sends most of the Company sprawling onto the ground.

Kibi finds himself looking up at Scree writ large, a veritable tower of rock and magic, whose idling stance fills the air with a cacophony of grinding stone.  It’s the second largest creature they’ve ever seen – if the Ventifact Colossus had a rider suited for its length, this might be it.

Kibi gulps.  “Hello!” he shouts up, speaking in Terran.  “How do you do?  We mean you no harm!”

Over his empathic link with Scree, he thinks:  smile!

In a voice like an earthquake the Elemental intones:  *“EARTH MAGE.”*

“Yes,” agrees Kibi.  “Is that okay?”

“Kibi!” whispers Ernie.  “Is it angry?”

“I don’t know!”

Aravis waves at the Elemental in what he hopes is a friendly manner.  Dranko hurriedly stows his pick.

Then, speaking again to the Elemental, Kibi continues.

“I _am_ an earth mage, and I _love_ the earth.  It feels so wonderful in here, all full of Earth Magic...”

The Elemental rumbles again, its voice rising like an approaching avalanche. 

*“EARTH MAGE... DIE!”*

...to be continued...


----------



## Sagiro

By the way, I didn't intend to ignore the previous few posts.  It's extremely gratifying to know that our stories have inspired people to get back into this wonderful hobby.  As for darkhall's specific question: trying to write out my campaign as a publishable setting would take much, much more time than I have available.  

I will point out, for the few who don't know, that Piratecat is a published module author:  

Of Sound Mind

-Sagiro


----------



## el-remmen

Awesome.

This kept me up past my bedtime.

Well worth it!  

I have to say I was surprised and delighted with what the emerald turned out to be.


----------



## coyote6

Sagiro said:
			
		

> _*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 268*_
> In a voice like an earthquake the Elemental intones:  *“EARTH MAGE.”*
> 
> [...]
> 
> “I _am_ an earth mage, and I _love_ the earth.  It feels so wonderful in here, all full of Earth Magic...”
> 
> The Elemental rumbles again, its voice rising like an approaching avalanche.
> 
> *“EARTH MAGE... DIE!”*




Ooh, a natural 1 on the Diplomacy check!


----------



## shilsen

A sixty-foot tall elemental whose eyes are each eight feet in diameter? 

Ye gods - it's either an anime character or Mickey Mouse!


----------



## CTSparky

Sagiro said:
			
		

> _*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 268*_
> 
> Dranko just giggles like a little kid.   “This is the best day of my life,” he says.  He hasn’t taken his eyes off the emerald for one second since emerging into this cavern.
> 
> Ernie nudges him.  “Expect for the day you married Morningstar,” he prompts.
> 
> “Right, right,” says Dranko.  “Except for that.”
> 
> “I don’t think I believe you,” says Morningstar, grinning at her husband.
> 
> Dranko tears his eyes off the green gem and looks at his wife.  “Morningstar, I would not throw you over for that emerald.  I’d cry, sure, but I’d pick you every time.”




This had me rolling. I wonder how many times I have been caught like that.


----------



## KidCthulhu

coyote6 said:
			
		

> Ooh, a natural 1 on the Diplomacy check!




Not really.  It's not so much that he failed his Diplomacy as that... well, stay tuned.


----------



## el-remmen

This struck me last night for some reason:  Do you, Sagiro (or any of your players) recall at which point in the campaign you guys were at when the story hour began to be written?

That is, how long was it until the story hour "caught up" to where you had been in game when you starting posting these?

Dag, I know what I am asking and my question _still_ seems unclear to me!


----------



## Joshua Randall

I thought mabye the giant, glowy emerald was somehow enchanting Dranko and Flicker. But I guess it was just well role-played greed.


----------



## RangerWickett

Okay, I feel suddenly confused.

Who is Flicker?

For some reason I was getting him confused with Pewter, the cat. So it was obviously disconcerting to have a cat climbing on the ceiling, 'finding handholds' and 'lighting torches'.


----------



## Sejs

RangerWickett said:
			
		

> Okay, I feel suddenly confused.
> 
> Who is Flicker?




The halfling that isn't Ernie.

Rogue.  Was imprisoned in a big saphire once, has guilt issues about causing the deaths of former party members via trap, his folks own an inn, etc.


----------



## LightPhoenix

So _that's_ what epic Climb can do!

Sorry, I just liked that description a lot more than anything in the ELH.  It should definitely be in  the next edition.


----------



## coyote6

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> So _that's_ what epic Climb can do!
> 
> Sorry, I just liked that description a lot more than anything in the ELH.  It should definitely be in  the next edition.




Sagiro (and Piratecat, and Sepulchrave) should at least be hired as consultants/co-writers for any new Book of Epic-ocity WotC might want to do.


----------



## arwink

I have to say, the thing that impressed me most about the last update was the ooze. I normally don't use oozes and other gunk monsters, primarily because they've never seemed frightening above and beyond their stats and place in DnD history. After reading the encounter above, I may have to revise my opinion.


----------



## StevenAC

el-remmen said:
			
		

> This struck me last night for some reason:  Do you, Sagiro (or any of your players) recall at which point in the campaign you guys were at when the story hour began to be written?
> 
> That is, how long was it until the story hour "caught up" to where you had been in game when you starting posting these?
> 
> Dag, I know what I am asking and my question _still_ seems unclear to me!



I'm not Sagiro, but I can have a go at answering your questions...

The earliest Story Hour posts, now long since vanished, appeared some time in January 2001.  At that point in the campaign, the Company had just been drawn into the Crosser's Maze - around session 106 or so (in chapter 5 of the compiled SH).

Some time in the third quarter of 2001, the Story Hour posts had completely caught up with the campaign -- certainly by session 121 (the aftermath of the battle with Restimar) at the beginning of October, the players and audience alike were avidly discussing what would happen next... 

So it probably took six or seven months for Sagiro's posts to get to the Crosser's Maze adventure.  Hope that helps...


----------



## KidCthulhu

And at this point, the story is trailing about a year or so behind.  It's gotten terrible, with Sagiro trying to have a family and a life and do his job.  His priorities are _so _outta wack.


----------



## Everett

Sejs said:
			
		

> The halfling that isn't Ernie.
> 
> Rogue.  Was imprisoned in a big saphire once, has guilt issues about causing the deaths of former party members via trap, his folks own an inn, etc.




He's also the only remaining member of the party that's a permanent NPC, with One Certain Step having played his role out.  Maybe that's what was confusing RangerWickett.


----------



## Zaruthustran

Snokas is a cohort, right? Of Morningstar?


----------



## Sejs

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> Snokas is a cohort, right? Of Morningstar?




Yep, half orc bodyguard.  Swings a mean pick.  Makes a good .. paletable .. makes black lizard pie.


----------



## Len

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “Why didn’t I make you float-y armor?” grumbles Dranko.
> 
> “Because you were too busy making fart-y armor,” says Ernie with a smile.  (Which is true.  Ernie’s armor, you may recall, makes a flatulent sound when the pinky of the left gauntlet is pulled.)



Makes me wonder what sort of presents show up under the Christmas tree in the Piratecat household...


----------



## Piratecat

That ooze scared the _crap_ out of me.

This was the session that was defined by "Dranko fails at everything he does"!  It wasn't Sagiro's fault -- we just didn't attack anything even remotely sneak-attackable, and I made some questionable tactical choices, and I had had a crappy day after which I wanted to kick ass and take names. It's really fun for me to read this after a year or two, because it's not quite as bad as I remember. But I _still_ didn't hurt anything. Thank goodness Sagiro didn't have my whip completely dissolve.

And man, that was some emerald. Speaking for Dranko, he was downright _insulted_ that it was attached to a creature.

We have a tradition of putting funny little surprises into magic items we make. Sadly, this usually means "Kibi plays embarrassing pranks on Dranko." One of them is related to the Kibi-made _sash of greater invisibility_ that Dranko wears, and that gets revealed fairly soon. 

Stupid dwarf.


----------



## shilsen

Piratecat said:
			
		

> We have a tradition of putting funny little surprises into magic items we make. Sadly, this usually means "Kibi plays embarrassing pranks on Dranko." One of them is related to the Kibi-made _sash of greater invisibility_ that Dranko wears, and that gets revealed fairly soon.
> 
> Stupid dwarf.




Let me guess - when he activates it the sash turns invisible and remains invisible even when Dranko attacks


----------



## Everett

Every time Shilsen posts I wonder if he actually looks like Gandalf, dresses up in a white wig, carries a walking stick around, etc etc


----------



## ajanders

He does not.
You don't want to know how I know that.

aja


----------



## Everett

Reasonable bumping period.  Bump is warranted.  Server says... go for it.

Bump.


----------



## Tamlyn

I've reached the point where every time I hear something go "Bump" in the night, I just assume it's Everett bumping Sagiro's thread.


----------



## CTSparky

Everett said:
			
		

> Reasonable bumping period.  Bump is warranted.  Server says... go for it.
> 
> Bump.




Bump bump.


----------



## Everett

Triple?  Maybe not...


----------



## Everett

Tamlyn said:
			
		

> I've reached the point where every time I hear something go "Bump" in the night, I just assume it's Everett bumping Sagiro's thread.




Yeah, maybe I should sublet.


----------



## shilsen

ajanders said:
			
		

> He does not.
> You don't want to know how I know that.
> 
> aja



 What - you're embarrassed about it now?


----------



## Sejs

Everett said:
			
		

> Every time Shilsen posts I wonder if he actually looks like Gandalf, dresses up in a white wig, carries a walking stick around, etc etc




Yes, he does.  White wig, staff... nothing else, though.  Likes to call himself 'Mandalf'.


Let me tell you, there are some things man was just never meant to see.


----------



## Everett

Ok, more than I needed.  Thanks for the FYI, though.


----------



## Everett

eh, whatever.  bump.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Everett said:
			
		

> eh, whatever.  bump.




Right, that's enough.  We're cutting off your bump rights, dude.  It's the holidays and the man is trying to ship a game.  Give him a break.


----------



## Mishihari Lord

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Right, that's enough.  We're cutting off your bump rights, dude.  It's the holidays and the man is trying to ship a game.  Give him a break.




Can you say what game?  I remember that he's had some awfully good ones in the past.


----------



## Vargo

Probably Bioshock.


----------



## el-remmen

Hey!

I was just browsing the campaign website and discovered you have a god named after Yankees catcher, Jorge Posada!

That's just not right. . .


----------



## Tamlyn

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Hey!
> 
> I was just browsing the campaign website and discovered you have a god named after Yankees catcher, Jorge Posada!
> 
> That's just not right. . .




Especially for a bunch of Boston natives!

I also seem to remember Nicolai Khabibulin (sp) the netminder in there as well.


----------



## Shmoo

Sagiro uses tons of baseball names in his campaign. Embree (before he played for Boston) and Conine also come to mind. I'm sure there are tons more.


----------



## el-remmen

Shmoo said:
			
		

> Sagiro uses tons of baseball names in his campaign. Embree (before he played for Boston) and Conine also come to mind. I'm sure there are tons more.





_Baseball_ names are one thing (I use them, too), but _Yankees_ names are a whole other animal (suitable only for villains, if that)


----------



## KidCthulhu

el-remmen said:
			
		

> _Baseball_ names are one thing (I use them, too), but _Yankees_ names are a whole other animal (suitable only for villains, if that)





Agreed!  Then again, Posada was the cranky god of the sea who was fighting with _our_ god of the sea, so he's at least not a good guy.

When Greywolf's player joined the game, Sagiro had to cut down on the sports names, because  that player actually has the same level of sports mania, and is likely to recognize them and call Sagiro on them.


----------



## Kestrel

Quick question:  What rules are you guys using for whips?  I noticed that Dranko uses his magic whip against armored foes, which wouldn't do damage normally.  Is it a house rule, or a special Lasher thing?

(I ask because I've tried emulate it in a few games, but the GMs generally shoot the idea down)


----------



## coyote6

If it's the Lasher prestige class from Sword & Fist, then yeah, they can do regular damage with whips. I believe it was a 1st level ability.


----------



## Piratecat

Yup! It's the 3e lasher class, common-sense-converted to 3.5. I'd probably be more effective with another weapon, but when you're a black-clad half-orc who's desperate to look cool, whips are de riguer.


----------



## Kestrel

I'll have to dig out my old books to check it out.  I like whips myself, but they are hard to use as a main weapon normally.  (Unless you go with a whip-dagger, which imho is just a dumb idea)

Another question, which may serve as a bump.  How was Grey-Wolf's sword handled?  Did it get xp to open up its abilities or just dm-caveat?


----------



## Everett

'twas xp, was it not?


----------



## Sagiro

Hi everyone.

Updates are likely to be even fewer and farther between than usual for the next couple of months.  We're "crunching" on BioShock at work, which means late nights every night and leaving me even less time than usual to work on the Story Hour.  I'm still chipping away, 10 minutes here, 20 minutes there, but it's pretty grim.

Regarding the recent question about Bostock:  once Grey Wolf had used him to inflict certain damage thresholds, I'd look for the next dramatically-appropriate moment to bring out his next "upgrade."

And here's a very short update, but hey, it's an update!

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 269*_
*Rumbler*

The enormous Elemental swings a massive arm like a battering ram.  Kibi feels all the breath knocked out of him as a fist the size of a kitchen table lifts him bodily off the ground.   Some twenty feet back he lands with a heavy thud on the stone floor.  For a moment he lies there, dazed, blinking.  

A second fist swings ponderously through the air, clipping the ground and breaking off bits of stone before connecting with Ernie.  The halfling goes flying through the air to land with a clang near one wall of the cavern.

Dranko looks up in a panic.  “What do we do?  What do we do?!”

“Holy crap!” is Aravis’s less-than-helpful response.  “I don’t know.”

To buy some time he casts _maze_.  The Elemental vanishes.   Dranko’s panic spreads to the others.  Is there any way out of here?

“Craaaaaaaan-chuuuuuuuss?!” calls Ernie.  All of the Company is wondering:  if the huge stone guardian is a servant of Cranchus, why is it attacking them?  And if it’s not -- well, still, why is it attacking them?  Why would it hate Earth Mages, who normally share a strong affinity with its kind?  Has it already killed Cranchus?

The Company spreads out, searching desperately for a hidden exit from the cavern but not finding one.  And less than thirty seconds later there’s a whoosh and a pop and the colossal Elemental reappears in a cacophony of grinding stone.  

Ernie looks up and pleads. “Please, we don’t mean you any harm!”

The Elemental looks down and grumbles ominously.

“Should I attack it?” asks Yoba urgently.  “What’s the plan?”

“Wait!” exclaims Kibi,” who still feels like his teeth are shaking from the Elemental’s fist.   “I’ll drop a wall.”  And he does so, placing a _wall of force_ between himself and the Elemental.  It’s not much given the sizes involved, but he puts it 30’ off the ground, 30’ high, and makes it 50’ long.    Kibi knows the creature can trivially get around the wall, but it will buy them an extra few seconds to think of something.

“What are we doing?” says Dranko, echoing Yoba’s thoughts.  “Are we attacking?”

“Well, he doesn’t like me much...” says Kibi.

Dranko sights and lashes with his whip.  The Elemental is easy to hit – it makes the broad side of a barn look small by comparison – but its natural resistance to damage minimizes the effect of Dranko’s weapon.  A few small chunks of stone are knocked out of its ankle.

“Back, back you fiend!” he cries out.

Grey Wolf’s attack is more effective.  He launches an _acid orb_ at the Elemental dissolving a nice-sized piece of its leg.  Morningstar follows up with a _flame strike_ that leaves scorched, smoking rocks behind.   Snokas fires some arrows from a distance but they plink harmlessly off its body.

Yoba grits her teeth and charges, knowing what will happen.   Sure enough the Elemental clobbers well before she gets close enough to swing, sending her flying backwards.  Lying on the ground she groans, “I’ve gotten its attention...”

There’s now an increasing body of evidence that spells are the way to go against this behemoth.  Ernie casts _flame strike_ and Aravis casts _cone of cold_.    The Elemental has not felt pain such as this for as long as it can remember.  For a second time it brings its fist down on Kibi, but it comes up short, blocked by the top of the _wall of force_.  It grumbles for a second, pondering, and then sinks bodily into the ground.   Everyone prepares their responses for when it next emerges, which includes Kibi casting _Otto’s irresistible dance_ from a scroll.  

The Elemental emerges from the floor on the far side of the cavern, leaving the Company out of reach of its powerful fists.  But there’s method to its madness – it bends down until its head is at ground level, opens its mouth, and breaths an avalanche of boulders that rolls beneath the _wall of force_ and smashes through the ranks of the party.   Dranko is able to dodge, and Aravis avoids damage by using his _ring of evasion_.  Everyone else is battered, with Ernie and Kibi taking a particularly severe pounding.  

More spells fly at the Elemental:  a _darkbeam_ from Morningstar, a _sonic orb_ from Grey Wolf and a _prismatic spray_ from Aravis.  (This last one strikes the creature with two beams, one doing acid damage, and the other – ha ha – turning it to stone.)  The stone beast roars and rumbles like a living earthquake.  Is it starting to look unsteady, or is the Company just imagining it?

Ernie heals himself, and Dranko heals Kibi.  Dranko and Snokas then both take up positions between the Elemental and Kibi.  

“It’s like I cast _wall of half-orcs_,” mutters Kibi.

The Elemental swings, and Dranko goes flying backward.  Its second swing is aimed unerringly at Kibi, but somehow Snokas manages to whisk him out of harm’s way, absorbing the blow in the dwarf’s stead.  It’s a particularly gruesome attack, smashing Snokas backward and off his feet with a sound of crunching bones.

Kibi winces.  “I take back everything bad I ever said about half-orcs!”

*EARTH MAGE!  *  The roar is so loud that small stones fall from the ceiling from the very sound of it.

Morningstar casts a powerful _mass cure_, while Aravis and Grey Wolf both nail the Elemental with _cones of cold_.  Now it’s abundantly clear that the Elemental is riddled with cracks, with large chunks broken off or frozen or dissolved.   Are they close to defeating it? 

A huge humanoid figure appears in the cavern, standing forty feet tall.  It looks like a cross between a dwarf and an Earth Elemental.  It looks down upon the assembled company and its voice booms out.

*“WHO DARES APPROACH MY DOM...  WELL, BLESS MY BEARD!”*

Kibi looks up at the giant dwarf.  “Why is your elemental so angry with me?  Just because I’m an Earth Mage?”

The huge dwarf raises an eyebrow.

*“WHO ARE YOU?”*

“If you’d answer _sending_ spells, you’d know,” mutters Dranko.

“My name is Kibilhathur Bimson,” says Kibi.  “What’s yours?  And if that elemental is a friend of yours, could you ask him to stop attacking us?”

*“RUMBLER!  BACK IN THE GROUND!”*

The enormous Elemental sinks into the rocky cavern floor.

“Excuse me,” pipes up Ernie.  “We need you to fix the Eyes of Moirel.”

*“WERE YOU FOLLOWED?”*

“Yeah,” admits Ernie.  “But we killed the guy.”

*“WAIT THERE.”*

The dwarf vanishes.  A moment later, at the base of the strangely flat side of the cavern, a small doorway appears as if created with _stone shape_.  Out comes the dwarf, still tall for its race, standing almost five feet high.  It seems made of stone as much as flesh.

“How do you do?” asks Kibi, approaching him.

“I do well,” says the dwarf.  “Kibilhathur Bimson, my name is Cranchus, but I’m guessing you know that.  You’d better come inside.”

Seeing the two dwarves facing one another, the Company can see that the family resemblance is unmistakable.

...to be continued...


----------



## thatdarncat

Sagiro, don't worry about the frequency of updates. We understand how work is, and we're more than happy to have updates whenever your schedule allows.


----------



## blargney the second

My sentiments exactly.  Thanks for the update!


----------



## Destil

thatdarncat said:
			
		

> Sagiro, don't worry about the frequency of updates. We understand how work is*We are awaiting Bioshock as eagerly as your next story hour update*, and we're more than happy to have updates whenever your schedule allows.



 Fixed that for you...


----------



## Solarious

You work on Bioshock. I'll support your writing by buying the game when it comes out. See? It'll all work out.


----------



## Piratecat

We didn't get the giant emerald eyes. _Why_ didn't we get the giant emerald eyes...?  *sob*


----------



## KidCthulhu

Piratecat said:
			
		

> We didn't get the giant emerald eyes. _Why_ didn't we get the giant emerald eyes...?  *sob*




Because Greed is one of the Seven Deadly Sins, and Sagiro was looking out for Dranko's immortal soul.

Plus, no one _really_ wants to know what Dranko would have done with that stone had he gotten his hands (and other parts of him) on it.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Because Greed is one of the Seven Deadly Sins, and Sagiro was looking out for Dranko's immortal soul.
> 
> Plus, no one _really_ wants to know what Dranko would have done with that stone had he gotten his hands (and other parts of him) on it.




At the very least, he would have licked it?  Or did I get my Story Hour's crossed again?


GW


----------



## Everett

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Seeing the two dwarves facing one another, the Company can see that the family resemblance is unmistakable.




Confused...

Are we in a different time period than the last time they talked with Cranchus?  If not, then I have no clue at all.


----------



## Sagiro

Everett said:
			
		

> Confused...
> 
> Are we in a different time period than the last time they talked with Cranchus?  If not, then I have no clue at all.




The party has never met Cranchus before.  They've heard of him a few times -- a reclusive and mysterious dwarven wizard who has helped the Spire on occasion (though no one in the Spire has ever actually seen him). 

The Company is currently about 2000 years in the past, which would make the Cranchus they've heard about in their "normal present" extremely old.  (Though that's not without precedent among the Archmagi -- recall that Abernathy was about 900 years old at the time of his death.)  The party's current quest is to find a way to return to their own time, and they think that Cranchus -- an Earth Mage himself -- can repair the Eyes of Moirel in order to facilitate that.

-Sagiro


----------



## Shmoo

Everett said:
			
		

> Confused...
> 
> Are we in a different time period than the last time they talked with Cranchus?  If not, then I have no clue at all.




Perhaps you're mixing up Cranchus with the halfling (whose name currently escapes me) who looks like Ernie?

EDIT: Wow, I can't believe I only have 15 posts. I've been reading this and PC's story for 6+ years! Guess I don't have much to add/ask.


----------



## Everett

No, it was something / one else who they *did* encounter...

It's going to bug me until I figure it out.


----------



## LightPhoenix

Everett said:
			
		

> No, it was something / one else who they *did* encounter...
> 
> It's going to bug me until I figure it out.




I think I know what you're talking about, but I can't remember it either!  Argh!


----------



## Everett

I think you do think so.  It was a certain scenario, certainly no more than twenty or thirty runs back... where someone important was talking to Ernie, and it wasn't Cranchus?

Was it before the tentacle battle where OCS fulfilled his prophecy?  No... was it not long afterwards?... that's my intuitive feeling about it...


----------



## Everett

Could be I'm just inventing mirages, though.


----------



## Everett

On pg. 45 or so:

********************
IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU, ERNEST WILBURFORCE ROUNDHILL

“Who are you? Do you have a name?”

WE DO NOT TAKE NAMES TO OURSELVES. THAT IS A POWERFUL ARTIFACT YOU WEAR.

“Cranchus gave it to me.”

A WISE DWARF HE IS. HE KNOWS OUR WAYS.
**********************

Ok then.


----------



## MavrickWeirdo

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Hi everyone.
> 
> Updates are likely to be even fewer and farther between than usual for the next couple of months.  We're "crunching" on BioShock at work, which means late nights every night and leaving me even less time than usual to work on the Story Hour.




I suppose that next you'll claim you couldn't work on an update because of your daughter's birthday. Hard to believe she is turning 2 in about 2 weeks.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Everett said:
			
		

> On pg. 45 or so:
> 
> ********************
> IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU, ERNEST WILBURFORCE ROUNDHILL
> 
> “Who are you? Do you have a name?”
> 
> WE DO NOT TAKE NAMES TO OURSELVES. THAT IS A POWERFUL ARTIFACT YOU WEAR.
> 
> “Cranchus gave it to me.”
> 
> A WISE DWARF HE IS. HE KNOWS OUR WAYS.
> *********************




Quite true this is.  Because in various prophecies, the belt Ernie wore was referred to as "Cranchus' Gift".  We hadn't met him, but as it was his gift, Ernie felt safe invoking his name.


----------



## Everett

I'm pretty much satisfied that that's what I was thinking of...


----------



## Joshua Randall

Sagiro said:
			
		

> A huge humanoid figure appears in the cavern, standing forty feet tall.  It looks like a cross between a dwarf and an Earth Elemental.  It looks down upon the assembled company and its voice booms out.
> 
> *“WHO DARES APPROACH MY DOM...  WELL, BLESS MY BEARD!”*
> 
> [...]
> 
> The dwarf vanishes.  A moment later, at the base of the strangely flat side of the cavern, a small doorway appears as if created with _stone shape_.  Out comes the dwarf, still tall for its race, standing almost five feet high.



Looks like Cranchus has been taking lessons from the Wizard of Oz.


----------



## Everett

One still wonders if his beard was a blessed one, though.


----------



## CTSparky

I like the way this is going with Cranchus. Oh to see the full family tree would be a wonderful thing.


----------



## Everett

Are there other relatives of the family that we know about / have been introduced to before?


----------



## sniffles

I've got a question regarding the Story Hour itself. I maintain four Story Hours for my group, and no non-players ever post in them. The players don't post in them often, either. Someone is obviously reading them judging by the view count, but no one is making comments. 

But I see an awful lot of comments in this Story Hour. Pages and pages of them. Many of them I know are from the players in the campaign, but not all.

I'm just curious: Do you think you get a lot of comments from readers because the players make comments? Is it because the story is told in third-person narrative? Or is it because this story hour has been running so long and has such a devoted readership?


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sagiro has, like, 47 alts.  He does all the posts himself, except for the ones from the players.  We're forced to post, on pain of character death and replacement with pixies and commoners.

Shhh.  He's coming.  YES, I LOVE SAGIRO'S GAME.  IT IS THE VERY BEST!!


----------



## sniffles

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Sagiro has, like, 47 alts.  He does all the posts himself, except for the ones from the players.  We're forced to post, on pains of character death and replacement with pixies and commoners.
> 
> Shhh.  He's coming.  YES, I LOVE SAGIRO'S GAME.  IT IS THE VERY BEST!!


----------



## Everett

You're mistaken, Sniffles - all the between-post comments are from the characters themselves.  It's the next stage in metaphysical literary technique, whereby we see into the characters' psyches and learn to our continual astonishment that every last one of them is hopelessly psychotic.

Oh my, look at the time...


----------



## sniffles

Everett said:
			
		

> You're mistaken, Sniffles - all the between-post comments are from the characters themselves.  It's the next stage in metaphysical literary technique, whereby we see into the characters' psyches and learn to our continual astonishment that every last one of them is hopelessly psychotic.
> 
> Oh my, look at the time...



Apparently Sagiro has cross-country mind-control ability, too!


----------



## Everett

It's a deep game the man plays, yes indeed.

In all serious-like truthfulness, though, the reason this story draws so many comments and views is because it's simply outstanding; it's clearly one of the most well-designed and complex D&D campaigns ever put together, and he also manages to make it a good _read_.  When you consider the scope and the length of time (10+ years) that it's played out over, I can only shake my head in awe & bemusement.  The characters are vivid and the detail given to plotting and the ultimate payoff stemming _from_ plot would have made Tolkien happy, I'm sure.

'zat an answer?


----------



## Joshua Randall

sniffles said:
			
		

> Do you think you get a lot of comments from readers because the players make comments? Is it because the story is told in third-person narrative? Or is it because this story hour has been running so long and has such a devoted readership?



Personally, I'm in it for the money.

And BTW, Sagiro, I'm still waiting for that check you said was in the mail. Don't me me get out of my La-Z-Boy!


----------



## Thornir Alekeg

Everett said:
			
		

> It's a deep game the man plays, yes indeed.
> 
> In all serious-like truthfulness, though, the reason this story draws so many comments and views is because it's simply outstanding; it's clearly one of the most well-designed and complex D&D campaigns ever put together, and he also manages to make it a good _read_.  When you consider the scope and the length of time (10+ years) that it's played out over, I can only shake my head in awe & bemusement.  The characters are vivid and the detail given to plotting and the ultimate payoff stemming _from_ plot would have made Tolkien happy, I'm sure.
> 
> 'zat an answer?




I think some of the kudos have to go to the players in the campaign.  Lets face it, another  one of the most read story hours has most of the same players.  Saigiro and Piratecat know how to spin adventures of amazing depth, but the fact that the players know how to make the most of adventures like these and put their own stamp on them makes a huge difference.


----------



## sniffles

Thornir Alekeg said:
			
		

> I think some of the kudos have to go to the players in the campaign.  Lets face it, another  one of the most read story hours has most of the same players.  Saigiro and Piratecat know how to spin adventures of amazing depth, but the fact that the players know how to make the most of adventures like these and put their own stamp on them makes a huge difference.



Yes, I'm beginning to see that the probable reason I don't get reader comments on my story hours is because they're all told in first person narrative. A couple of the other players also do journal entries in those story hours but they don't post as regularly as I do. Which means readers only get to see one player's perspective. 

I certainly enjoy the perspective of all the players in this story hour. I just don't see how Sagiro keeps up with it all, though. Even making audio recordings, don't you have to stop and put in new batteries or a new cassette every couple of hours? What about ambient noise, or interference when several people are talking at once?


----------



## Everett

I wondered about that when I tried to write a story hour for a campaign I played in.  We recorded the sessions but the quality was far too grainy to make enough sense of them to write about it...


----------



## KidCthulhu

sniffles said:
			
		

> Even making audio recordings, don't you have to stop and put in new batteries or a new cassette every couple of hours? What about ambient noise, or interference when several people are talking at once?




Heh.  If Sagiro directly transcribed the tapes, you would hear the chorus of "TAPE!" that we shout when the tape gets to the end.  Or maybe you wouldn't, because we say it after the tape runs out.

The purpose of the recording is more as a portable memory than as a direct transcript.  So back ground noise and people talking over eachother aren't that important.  You can get the good lines, the cool things that happened, the order of events, the results and the descriptions, and the rest is writing.


----------



## Everett

We did see direct transcriptions once.  Cannot remember what point in the campaign it was at, but it was when Morningstar was using thought-captures to open the door to a tower...


----------



## sniffles

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Heh.  If Sagiro directly transcribed the tapes, you would hear the chorus of "TAPE!" that we shout when the tape gets to the end.  Or maybe you wouldn't, because we say it after the tape runs out.
> 
> The purpose of the recording is more as a portable memory than as a direct transcript.  So back ground noise and people talking over eachother aren't that important.  You can get the good lines, the cool things that happened, the order of events, the results and the descriptions, and the rest is writing.



Thanks for that info. I'm thinking of going to recordings. I take handwritten notes, so it often distracts me from the actual play, and I leave a lot of stuff out if I'm tired or distracted. It's nice to know how that works for someone who's been doing it so long.


----------



## sniffles

My curiosity is leading me to become a pest.   

I'm sure I could probably find the answers to my questions by reading through the comments, but I think anyone would agree that's rather a daunting task. 

What I'd like to know is: What level are the PCs now? How was Sagiro able to keep level advancement at a slow enough rate to spread this game out over 10 years of real time? I've been playing in one 3.5 campaign since 2003 and our party are now 14th level. We play twice a month. I thought we were advancing slowly, but our pace appears to be lightning speed by comparison to this campaign. 

How do you keep it fresh for so long? How do you keep the players interested? What makes the players want to keep playing the same characters over such an extended period?


----------



## Everett

He refers to run # 265, about four of the giant EnWorld pages back, if you're reading on Enworld as opposed to StevenAC's Collected.



			
				Sagiro
[B said:
			
		

> Regarding character level:[/B]
> 
> At the time of this last update, I think the highest level characters were 15th level, and the range was 13th to 15th.   Right now, 17 runs and 14 months ahead of the story hour, the highest-level characters have recently hit 17th level, and thus have 9th level spells.
> 
> Speaking of which, Morningstar is likely to try one of them out next game.  The bad news is: after the horrific events of last game, said spell is _true resurrection_.
> 
> -Sagiro


----------



## KidCthulhu

sniffles said:
			
		

> How was Sagiro able to keep level advancement at a slow enough rate to spread this game out over 10 years of real time? I've been playing in one 3.5 campaign since 2003 and our party are now 14th level. We play twice a month. I thought we were advancing slowly, but our pace appears to be lightning speed by comparison to this campaign.




Like PirateCat, Sagiro's group was started in 2e and converted to 3e.  So some of our advancement speed has come from that conversion.  A 5th level Fighter/Cleric in 2e was very different than a 3 fighter/2 cleric in 3e.


----------



## sniffles

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> Like PirateCat, Sagiro's group was started in 2e and converted to 3e.  So some of our advancement speed has come from that conversion.  A 5th level Fighter/Cleric in 2e was very different than a 3 fighter/2 cleric in 3e.



Ah, yes, I'd forgotten to take that into consideration. I've played 2e myself.   

@Everett - I've only read up to #240 so far!!


----------



## Everett

Well you'll get there.  It's a good read.


----------



## Thornir Alekeg

sniffles said:
			
		

> How do you keep it fresh for so long? How do you keep the players interested? What makes the players want to keep playing the same characters over such an extended period?




I wish I could say that I knew firsthand about how Sagiro and his group do it, but from the comments I've read and the story hour itself, I get the impression that there are many factors involved in the success of this game over the long haul:


Sagiro is willing to spend a considerable amount of effort in weaving the story
The players are partners in this effort in that they do not purposely try to sabotage his plans (defeat them, yes, sabotage, no) and they offer up ideas from their characters for Sagiro to use (many players I know refuse to have an extensive character backstory because they don't want the DM to use it against them)
The players trust Sagiro to offer a good story that will respond to them and he trusts them to play along
There is little of the "DM vs. the players" attitude
Come on, if you were part of this, would you want to be the one to screw it up and end it?

Oh, and lets not forget that Sagiro isn't only a DM, he plays in Piratecat's game as well.  I'm willing to bet that helps a bit with the DM burnout issues that often kill a game.


----------



## sniffles

Waaah!! Now I've read everything.


----------



## Shmoo

So I suddenly realized I hadn't been to this site since February 3rd and what do I find? I missed nothing here. And PirateCat's story thread is nowhere to be found.


----------



## justinsluder

Yep, business as usually around these parts.


----------



## Sagiro

I promise, the story is not dead, just sleeping.  It's the nature of my job as a video-game designer that for a few months every couple of years, work rises up to consume almost all of my time.   Family pretty much gets the rest.  

Once work calms down, I'll return to writing the story -- and running the game proper, for that matter.  It's been months since we last played, and that's making me sad.

-Sagiro


----------



## blargney the second

That's heartening!  Some friends and I were just talking last night about how much we miss your story hour.


----------



## Vargo

Dranko is NOT dead. 


I find myself wondering how many other people get the reference...


----------



## Shmoo

It was so much easier before you caught up to real time!

Everything was better back in 2002.

Sagiro- do you still read Baseball Prospectus a lot? I've mostly stopped. Not sure if I stopped because I was no longer in a fantasy league, or if I stopped doing fantasy baseball because my interest was flagging. Still follow the Orioles, but no longer find myself following every single player on every team like I used to. Oh well.

/hijack


----------



## StevenAC

*Collected Story Hour update*



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> I promise, the story is not dead, just sleeping.  It's the nature of my job as a video-game designer that for a few months every couple of years, work rises up to consume almost all of my time.   Family pretty much gets the rest.



Entirely understandable, Sagiro.  I look forward to the next update whenever you can get the time for it...

Meanwhile, for those using the Collected Story Hour, I've just added the latest chapter to the web page, bringing it back up to date.  Enjoy!


----------



## justinsluder

I didn't mean anything negative by my comment.  Just that it's the usual way of things regarding not only your SH, but many, many others.

If it ain't broken, don't fix it.  Keep making to great games, and I for sure won't mind at all.

Thanks,

Justin


----------



## Tamlyn

StevenAC said:
			
		

> Entirely understandable, Sagiro.  I look forward to the next update whenever you can get the time for it...
> 
> Meanwhile, for those using the Collected Story Hour, I've just added the latest chapter to the web page, bringing it back up to date.  Enjoy!




Hey Steven AC, on behalf of those of us who haven't been here since the beginning, I want to thank you for all your effort on this SH. You've made it much less daunting to read (and yes, re-read) this incredible story. You, Sagiro, and all his wonderful players have combined to waste months and months of my lunch hours. Much appreciated!


----------



## Everett

Yeah - the Collected Story Hour's a fantastic achievement in its own right.  Love reading it.  Good work, Steven!


----------



## StevenAC

Tamlyn said:
			
		

> Hey Steven AC, on behalf of those of us who haven't been here since the beginning, I want to thank you for all your effort on this SH. You've made it much less daunting to read (and yes, re-read) this incredible story. You, Sagiro, and all his wonderful players have combined to waste months and months of my lunch hours. Much appreciated!



Sorry about the lunch hours...   

Thanks to everyone who's commented on the Collected Story Hour (both here and in email).  It's nice to know that others find it useful as well.  Although, of course, I'd keep collecting it even if no-one else was reading it  -- and even after six years, I still want to know what's going to happen next...


----------



## darkhall-nestor

Well I think the story hour should be published in book form (probably several books)
With a glossy cover and color maps and pictures and an index as well as a cast list

Hmmm oh oh it could be sold for 7.99 and the proceeds could help encourage continuing posts and more books

And maybe piretcat could publish his as well

Yep   yep   yep


----------



## Everett

no dice, no dice...


----------



## CTSparky

*just waiting*

I'm just waiting for the next installment.


----------



## Piratecat

Just to give folks a feel, here's a quote from Sagiro about a social event this weekend: 

"If everything goes really well this week, I may be able to take half of Sunday off."

The story hour isn't dead.  But Sagiro is spending almost every waking minute at work. I bet he's looking forward to Bioshock launching as much as we are!


----------



## Solarious

Bioshock is one of those lovely games that you'll grow to loathe, yet you hug tight against you in the dark. You'll loathe it because it's one of those scary games that forces you (with the threat of eviceration, no less) to make difficult decisions. Yet you have to hug it tightly against you in the dark, because it has all kinds of interestingly-shaped hooks in you which go _*sliceslice*_ if you move in the wrong direction. Sagiro will be scarring people for decades to come.

I'm so proud of him. *sniff*


----------



## shadowthorn

*Null shadows stats?*

Does anyone have the null shadows stats? Is that something I can ask for here? I seem to recall two versions of them, one regular, one beefed up. Perhaps someone could email them to me? I'd like to use them in my next session.

Thanks.


----------



## The_Warlock

shadowthorn said:
			
		

> Does anyone have the null shadows stats? Is that something I can ask for here? I seem to recall two versions of them, one regular, one beefed up. Perhaps someone could email them to me? I'd like to use them in my next session.
> 
> Thanks.




For simplicity go to StevenAC's collected StoryHour and scroll to the bottom...

http://stevenac.net/sagiro/StoryHour.htm

Many are the GM's who have taken glee in using Sagiro's creation...


----------



## shadowthorn

Fantastic! Thanks.


----------



## Sabriel

The_One_Warlock said:
			
		

> Many are the GM's who have taken glee in using Sagiro's creation...



While fun as an intellectual exercise and to spring on overconfident PCs  as both a GM and a player it

* rest of post eaten by the Cleaners! *

Sorry folks. I shouldn't have discussed the Null Shadow stats here. Per request, I've moved my original responses (and included quotes of Everett's insightful replies and KidCthulhu's comment as a PC on what they did and we should do upon meeting the beasties - hope that's okay) to the Creature Catalog forums under Homebrew, here, should anyone wish to continue discussing them there. My apologies to Sagiro and players.


----------



## Everett

Sabriel said:
			
		

> Also, _summoned_ creatures - if null shadows can't be affected by them, what if you summon a spellcasting creature? The arcane attraction ability would then result in the magic having an effect!




Am not familiar with the rule you quote, but absolute immunity bars any circumstance, doesn't it?


----------



## Sabriel

* this post eaten by the Cleaners! *


----------



## Everett

Sabriel said:
			
		

> Maybe I'm fixating... this sort of thing probably keeps mages up at night




Yeah, but that's fine.  This sort of speculation is the best thing about D&D for my money; it's like pondering a zen koan.    

<<<Which does it go for and why?

It goes for the summoned spellcaster.  That it's unaffected by magic does not mean it's unable to identify a magically created being.

It can't walk through the _Wall of Stone_.  Why?  The magic isn't residual.  If you cast _disintegrate_ beneath the creature, ultimately it's however the DM wants to play it, but I would say no, it doesn't fall.  It's a question of awareness.  If you think the ground you stand on is solid, you're not worried about falling.  If the ground suddenly turns to glass, but you _just don't notice_, you feel the same way.

Does the +1 sword pass through it?  Yes, it does, _if_ the weapon is judged to be inherently magical.  But it can't walk through a magically enhanced wall that's fundamentally just rock underneath.

As the samurais say... you must consider this.      These are my opinions, but a case could be made just as strongly the other way.

In a god-created world... well, they might be intermittently there, flicking in and out of existence like a bad internet connection. (Remember the backstory about Foogzl the Cleaner, the battle where OCS died?) They might be _polymorphed_.  They might be giants (no pun intended) with psychic abilities.  

They could be beings like the Inevitables - the non-living, planer-appointed bounty hunters described in the Monster Manual.  They could be a lot of things.


----------



## Sabriel

* this post eaten by the Cleaners! *


----------



## KidCthulhu

Sabriel said:
			
		

> Heh, yes. This is one of those monster abilities where if you don't have all your ducks in a row, the players will want to pluck you.




Oh, no they won't.  For one thing, Sagiro has never let us see the Null Shadow stats.  And for another, to paraphrase the Matrix, "When you see a Null Shadow, you do what we do.  You run."

We're always too busy screaming in terror to nit-pick the stats.


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Sabriel said:
			
		

> While fun as an intellectual exercise and to spring on overconfident PCs  as both a GM and a player it discomfits me to have creatures with "absolute immunity to magic".... <snip>




I just wanted to note that Sagiro originally posted these stats in a seperate thread, to keep them away from inadvertent PC notice...  I recommend any discussion of the Null Shadows be taken to a seperate thread - there is a homebrew monster forum in the Creature Catalog area, I believe, that would be appropriate.


----------



## Everett

Sabriel said:
			
		

> * "Does the +1 sword pass through it?  Yes, it does, _if_ the weapon is judged to be inherently magical.  But it can't walk through a magically enhanced wall that's fundamentally just rock underneath."
> 
> What is "inherently magical"? A 'standard sword+1' is a masterwork sword with a magical enhancement bonus (it gains +1 attack, +1 damage, +5 hardness, +10 hp, etc). If I make a wall+1, being a masterwork wall with a magical enhancement bonus (etc), then is it considered a magical barrier that a Null Shadow can pass through? Fundamentally a sword+1 is just metal underneath...?




If the +1 sword is a masterwork upgrade, then it hits the Shadow; if it's an artifact or wonderous item of some kind, that would be "inherently" magical & would pass through.  But like the upgrade, a stone wall that was _created_ via magic is still just a stone wall.  Hmm.  Make sense?  A sword that's been upgraded to +1 magic can be dispelled back to ordinary, suggesting that the ordinary sword is still *there*.  If you can think of magic like a new paint job - the previous layer is still underneath, you know.

And it was my mistake about the summoned creature vs. commoner question; the summoned creature isn't magically "created" when it's summoned from somewhere else, but I still say the Shadow would go for it instead of the commoner; summoned creatures are in the fight for a certain amount of time, suggesting that the magic that brought them there could be seen via _Arcane Sight_; likewise, I'd bet that the Null Shadow would sense that too.

<<<So unaffected applies to interaction, not observation? Does this mean it can be potentially fooled by glamers and figments?

Hmm.  I'd say yes, that's possible.  If it can see magic... and it can... then it can be fooled by magic.

<<Um, disintegrate would turn the floor to dust, leaving a 10ft deep non-magical pit, not to glass?

Right, that was silly of me, wasn't it.

Could it be hit by an ordinary sword wielded by telekinesis?  I would say so, yes.  The magic isn't directly doing the attacking.  _Passwall_ - I don't know; I don't play D&D currently and I don't have a Player's Handbook I can consult to look at the spell, unfortunately.  Care to post a brief spell description?

...On the appropriateness of this discussion here; I don't think it's inappropriate...?  We're not discussing the Null Shadow's stats, and I'm sure the guys who play the wizards in Sagiro's campaigns have considered this stuff before.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Charlemagne is right.  Move this discussion please.  Speaking for the players, I don't want to know the stats for the Null Shadows.  They're glorious and spooky and perfect, and I don't want to twink them.


----------



## Joshua Randall

I used null shadows against my PCs a few weeks ago, _and they were totally nonshalant_ -- *except* for the guy who has read this story hour. I mean, here I am describing how their weapons are passing right through the shadows, and their spells as well, and the casters are getting swarmed and losing spells prepared, _and they just didn't seem to care_.

Oh well. Maybe I should have made them Advanced Elite Paragon Null Shadows. Yeah.


----------



## Ryan Koppenhaver

Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> Oh well. Maybe I should have made them Advanced Elite Paragon Null Shadows. Yeah.




Speaking as the player who was worried-- I just assumed they _were_ advanced, elite, etc, null shadows.  

I think a lot of the problem was that when you have two unique opponents-- one a long running thorn in our side, and the other a vampire former PC-- plus a bunch of identical guys, it's easy to mentally sort them into "real challenge" and "cannon fodder", and cannon fodder isn't scary.

If the null shadows had been an encounter by themselves, they'd probably have gotten more of a reaction.  (Of course, it'd have also frustrated the spellcasters to have nothing to do in that encounter.)


----------



## KidCthulhu

Ryan Koppenhaver said:
			
		

> (Of course, it'd have also frustrated the spellcasters to have nothing to do in that encounter.)




I dunno.  I think running for your life is plenty to do.


----------



## Sabriel

I think some spellcasters would enjoy an encounter with null shadows - on their terms, that is: to test spells with the critters from a position of safety. If such a thing exists, of course... otherwise, yes - run!

Sorry about mentioning OOC stats here. Won't happen again. Cleaned/moved my offending posts.


----------



## Sabriel

Followup: reflecting upon my faux pas here compared to my local group's chatter... do folks have any techniques for improving immersion / cutting down on "stats talk" at the gaming table? Does Sagiro's table have a "tip jar" or something?


----------



## CTSparky

*lamenting*

I am lamenting the fact that there haven't been any updates (I know why and I understand; I can still cry) to not only Sagiro's game but also Halmae..Boo hoo..


----------



## Plane Sailing

Huzzah!

I'm back up to date with the storyhour again, and life is good.


----------



## Everett

Any news from the maker?


----------



## Vargo

The maker, I believe, is currently in "crunch" mode over a little game named "Bioshock".  I could be wrong, but that's what I understand...


----------



## Sagiro

Hm.  Huh?  Where am I?    

No update at the moment, but it won't be too much longer now.  My crunch is drawing to a close, and so I am able to peek at the bits of life I've left behind these past 5 months.   Apparently I have a 2.3 year old daughter, a lovely wife with whom I am expecting a second daughter in August, and a number of excellent friends.   (I overstate for effect -- I have gotten out on occasion.  Did you know Piratecat recently turned 40?  Over in his game, he "celebrated" by making us fight a CR 27 monstrosity out of the Epic Handbook.  He's not getting soft in his old age, let me tell you.  But I digress.)

I also have a D&D campaign covered with dust, which I am eager to shake out and get going again.  I've scheduled some sessions for June, after going several months with the entire game (not just the SH) on mothballs.   And I've just cleaned off my computer desk, which revealed my tape recorder with a tape inside of the session where Kibi meets Cranchus.   I guess I should get down to transcribing.

If I get motivated, I may take some time to write up a "what's going on" synopsis, to remind readers of just what was going on when the Story Hour went on hiatus.  In case I don't, here's the short version:  

_Company has traveled back in time, to prevent a bad guy from changing the past.  They did that, but the Magic Gizmotrons that allow time-travel broke.  They figured Cranchus might be able to fix them, so they went looking for him.  Hey!  Here he is!_

I hope to post again soon.

-Sagiro


----------



## el-remmen

Congrats on the awaited addition to the fam, and good hear you are going to be getting some time for the more extraneous, but none-the-less fun, things of life. 

I look forward to it.


----------



## Tamlyn

Indeed! Congrats on the new Sagirite!

Take care of your fam and we'll be here waiting when you have the time.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 270*_
*Family History*

Kibi glances over his shoulder.  “Can my friends come too?”

“They’d better,” says Cranchus.

Dranko looks up nervously at the emerald eye of the enormous Elemental, which is now once again keeping watch from the ceiling.

“Can we kill that thing, please?” he asks.

“Kill Rumbler?” exclaims Cranchus, affronted.  “No!”   The earthy dwarf strokes his beard.  “You _were_ doing a decent job at it, though.  I’ll have to make a bigger one.”

“That seems completely unnecessary,” says Grey Wolf.  

“Couldn’t you just make the eyes, and leave the rest out?” Dranko suggests.

“I require a guardian,” says Cranchus.  “There’s only one other Earth Mage I know of on this entire world – present company excepted – who might be able to find me here... and I do _not_ want that to happen!”

“His name’s not Parthol Runecarver, is it?” asks Dranko.

“No.  His name is Condor.  He works for the Emperor.”

This elicits a chorus of  “Oohhhhhhh” from the Company.  So Condor wasn’t just a run-of-the-mill powerful servant of the Emperor.  He was... is... an Earth Mage, which explains his ability to construct the Mirrors of Semek.

“And thus, the Eyes of Moirel,” says Aravis, understanding.  

As the Company follows Cranchus through the doorway in the huge flat wall, Dranko casts one last longing glance upward.

“I’d be willing to trade one of my eyes for one of his.”

Morningstar shakes her head.

The party finds itself in a more moderately-sized cavern.   From this side, the large wall is translucent, serving the function of a one-way mirror.  There is a glowing stone pedestal, like a podium, that Cranchus could use to observe any activity in the huge hall beyond.

“You could have called off your elemental any time you wanted!” exclaims Kibi, though he tries not to sound too accusatory.

“I wasn’t watching,” says Cranchus.  “I was... busy.  I came as soon as I became aware of the commotion – and certainly saw something I didn’t expect.”

“We’re sorry to disturb you,” says Aravis humbly.  “But it’s our belief that we need your help to get back to where we belong.”

“Umm... I hate to interrupt,” says Snokas gruffly.  “But before we get to talking, could I get some healing?  I’m no cleric, but I think my ribs are usually on the inside.”

A flurry of healing follows.  When all are feeling better, Cranchus causes stone chairs to form, rising out of the ground from a simple gesture.  Kibi whistles under his breath and sits down in a chair opposite Cranchus.  The rest make themselves comfortable.  Dranko lights up a cigar.

In his overwhelmed excitement, Kibi hardly knows where to begin.   “I like your translucent rock wall,” he says with a slight stammer.  

“Thank you,” says Cranchus, bowing his head.  His voice rumbles deeply, as if there are stones in his throat.  Which there are.

“You must be quite curious about us,” says Kibi.

Cranchus nods.  “What I most want to know is, how is it that I haven’t noticed you before now?”

“We’re from the future,” explains Kibi.   “About two thousand years, we think.”

Cranchus leans forward, eyes glittering like gemstones.  (And maybe they _are_ gemstones... it’s hard to be sure.)  “So, you figured it out!  Time travel!  You’ll have to teach me.  It’s only been a theory until now.”

“We didn’t actually do it ourselves,” Kibi admits.  “We traveled with the assistance of some wild magic items.”

“Made by Condor,” adds Ernie.

“Do you know anything about the Eyes of Moirel?” asks Kibi.  “And the Standing Stones?”

“You mean Condor’s Plinths?” asks Cranchus.  “Yes.  I know of them.  But... time travel...” 

“We don’t want to do things here that will mess up our future,” says Kibi, startled into remembering the dangers.  “We came back to set that  future back to the way it used to be.  Whatever we tell you, please don’t tell anyone.”

“I think that the future will take things into account,” says Cranchus, leaning back in his stone chair.  “Maybe the very fact of you telling me things is necessary for setting the future to the way you know it.”

“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” asks Dranko.  

“I’m one hundred thirteen years old.”

“You’re going to live at least another 1700, 1800 years,” says Dranko.  

“I intend to,” Cranchus says with a smile.

The Company spends another couple of minutes trying to decide what to reveal about themselves, but in the end they decide to place their full trust in Cranchus, and tell him everything – what happened on their own world, how the Sharshun changed the past, their quest into Het Branoi to find an Eye of Moirel, and their journey back in time to stop Inivane from warning the Emperor about his eventual defeat.  

“And in accomplishing all of this,” finishes Aravis, “the Eyes have broken.  We have no way to return home.”

“And we must,” adds Morningstar.  “My goddess has said specifically we shouldn’t be here.”

Cranchus has listened to the tale with unwavering interest.  When the Company has finished the account, he asks to see one of the cracked Eyes, and Kibi hands one over without hesitation.  Cranchus studies it carefully, turning it over and over in his stony hands.

“Explain to me again,” he says, running his fingers over the Eye, “when you traveled back in time... this belt of yours, Ernest... describe it.”

“Well,” says Ernie.  “It was a plain gold band, a circle, that...”

Cranchus finishes his sentence.  “...that had rounded edges, and a hinge so smooth and subtle that it looked solid and unbroken when closed.   It had the faintest glow about it, though it would shed no light in a dark place.  And when wearing it you felt solid, stable, as if it anchored you to reality.  And yet... I’ve never given one away.  They’re all still here, in my workshop, except for...”

He trails off.  Ernie hardly knows what to say.  Cranchus has perfectly described the Wilburforce Ring.

“What do they do?” asks Dranko.  “The rings?”

“They attempt to stabilize,” answers Cranchus.  “Wild Magic is inherently entropic.  Chaotic.  Causes things to fly apart.”  He looks sad for a moment, then shakes his head before continuing.  “But you would need one, I imagine... I have explored time travel, you know.  Condor was trying it, I could tell, with those big rocks of his.  But until today, I was sure they didn’t work.  The Emperor was sure, too.  Condor’s Plinths.  But I have some theories of my own I want to test.”

“If it involves putting Kibi into a giant Mechanical Device, we’ll pass,” says Dranko.  

Cranchus gestures, and another stone pedestal rises up from the floor in front of him.  On it he has the Company place all of the broken Eyes of Moirel, as well as Inivane’s gartine crown by which his own three Eyes were transfixed.  

“They’re smart – sentient,” warns Morningstar.  “They have distinct personalities, when they’re not broken.”

“We have an item that can affect time and planes,” adds Aravis.  “In here.”  He taps his head.  “The person I got it from was part of an order that knew how to use it to move through time.  But that was very dangerous, and drove people mad.   You may use it if you wish.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” says Cranchus, “but I’m not sure how I’d study it, in a way that wouldn’t be harmful to you.”

“Are you married?” asks Kibi.  He’s eager to find out more about Cranchus’s family, of which more and more he suspects he is a part.  “Do you have any children?”

“I was married.” says Cranchus.  

“And something horrible happened because of the wild mag...” says Dranko, 

“Yes, yes, something horrible happened,” says Cranchus testily, cutting him off.

“I’m sorry,” says Dranko, responding to an elbow from Ernie.  

“I’m not blaming you.   I just... yes, I was married once.  My wife was also my apprentice.  There was an accident.  She died.”  

There are condolences given all around, and then a moment of awkward silence.

“Was your wife an Earth Mage?” asks Kibi.

“She was, yes.  You think I’m related to you somehow, don’t you?” asks Cranchus, smiling.  

“Well, I think one of the Eyes of Moirel here referred to you as my grandfather,” says Kibi.  “It sounded like it knew you.”

“But I hadn’t met... ah, but I have _now_.”  He looks at the Eyes of Moirel, eyebrows raised.  “Well then,” Cranchus continues, “tell me about your mother.”

“I don’t know that much about where she’s from.  Her village was attacked by orcs, and she was the only one who survived.   My father found her in the ruins of the village, with no clear memories of what had happened or how she had survived.  He brought her back to Eggemoggin with him.  And she was wearing a gold circlet, like the one you described.”

“She was?” asks Cranchus sharply.  “But...” 

His face darkens, as he works out the puzzle in his mind.

“Tell me,” he says after a minute.  “What was your mother’s name?”

“Her name is Gela,” says Kibi.  

Cranchus goes pale.  “When?” he asks urgently.  “When was she discovered?  And where?  Be specific!  The day... what day was it?”

“Well, I wasn’t born yet...”

“But your father must have told you,” presses Cranchus.  “Think!  On what day was she found?”

Kibi thinks hard.  “Oh, now I remember.  It was the second day of October, in 1765.  It was the first night of the full moon, which helped the rescue team find her.   Does... does that mean anything to you?”

“No, not yet.  I suppose that... here, follow me.”

Cranchus walks swiftly to the opposite wall from the one-way stone window and gestures open a door with _stone shape._  He walks through, and beckons Kibi and the others to follow.  

Beyond that doorway Cranchus leads the Company through a complex of caves, though the interconnectivity only comes about when the old Earth Mage opens temporary doorways with his _stone shape_ ability.  Most of the caves are rich with gems, and sometimes the Company hears sounds like distant picks hammering against stone.

“Who’s that?” asks Dranko.

“Unseen Servants,” answers Cranchus.

“They can _do_ that?”

“Mine can.”

Many of the caves are littered with tools, and tables covered in various experimental endeavors.  One cavern has a number of iron cauldrons filled with lava.   Another has baskets overflowing with perfectly round stones.  There is also a constant traffic of small earth elementals going to and fro on errands, many transporting gems from cave to cave. 

“What a wonderful place you have!” exclaims Kibi, enchanted.   Cranchus smiles and winks, as he opens a new doorway into yet another room.  This one has a large mirror in its center, surrounded  by sharp arrow-shaped crystals pointing inward.  Beams of light are shining at the mirror, which itself is glowing.

“Don’t touch,” he warns.

“What’s it for?” asks Dranko.

“Scrying.  I can’t leave this place, so that’s how I keep track of what’s going on out in the world.”

“How come you can’t leave?” Dranko presses.

Aravis ventures a guess.  “If he does, Condor will find him?”

“There are number of reasons, and that’s one of the best,” says Cranchus.  “Also, the Earth has told me not leave.  It would be dangerous for anyone to be around me if I left this sanctuary.”

The next chamber is filled with stone workbenches, and on many of these are metal circlets obviously akin to the one Ernie had been wearing for so long.   There are over thirty of the things, varying slightly in size and precise alloy but otherwise similar.  

“These are all my attempts to find a proper stabilizing influence -- things to make my work less dangerous,” explains Cranchus.  “But Kibi, what I want to show you is through here.”

He gestures to a wall, and yet another doorway opens up.  Cranchus motions Kibi to go inside.

Kibi finds himself in a tall conical chamber, thirty feet around at ground level and tapering to a point some sixty feet in the air.  Silvery metal scaffolding is built up in the center of the cone, and hovering inside that metal latticework is...

Kibi gasps.  “Mother?”

Gela dun Bim is younger than Kibi has ever seen her, but it’s her, there can be no doubt.  And over her head, like a halo, is a golden circlet exactly like the one kept on the mantelpiece in Kibi’s home back in Eggemoggin.

“Is she awake?” whispers Kibi.

“No.”

“Is she... natural?”

“Yes.  She’s my daughter.  She survived the accident... barely.  She was infused with Wild Magic that should have torn her apart, but I was able to... stabilize her.  That was twenty-one years ago.”

“Is she aging now?” asks Kibi.

“No, she’s in stasis.  I hope the circlet will stabilize her, and I will be able to release her.  But I’ve always known that it could take centuries, if it ever happens.  The combination of that ring, and the gartine scaffold around her, is keeping her in perfect, timeless health.  Though, even when the day comes that she has recovered from the accident, she’ll have to keep the stabilizing circlet with her at all times.”

Kibi gulps.  “We thought we needed it to go nowhere, so we took it.”

“You did?!” asks Cranchus in alarm.

“Yes, but it always returned to her, if it got too far away.”

Cranchus strokes his beard and chuckles.  “Well then.  I guess I’d better enchant it so that it does just that!”

He turns to regard Kibi, who cannot take his eyes from his young mother.

“Kibi... it’s an honor to meet my grandson.”  

He pulls Kibi into a bear-hug embrace.

...to be continued...


----------



## blargney the second

Yaaaaay!  Thank you, Sagiro!
-blarg


----------



## Mishihari Lord

blargney the second said:
			
		

> Yaaaaay!  Thank you, Sagiro!




What he said.


----------



## wolff96

In addition to thanking you for the story hour, I'd also like to add my appreciation for your work on BioShock.  I just recently saw the trailer of the fight against a Big Daddy...  and I am really can't express how excited I am to get my hands on that game.  

And on top of that, it's WONDERFUL to have you updating again.


----------



## LightPhoenix

Congratulations on the new baby Sagiro!!!


----------



## StevenAC

Great dialogue, intriguing characterisation, and the immensely satisfying way the resolutions to nine and ten year old plot points slide seamlessly into place -- yeah, you've still got it...   

For those wondering what I'm going on about, here are some quotes from the very early days of the campaign:


			
				Run #40 (page 47 of the Collected Story Hour) said:
			
		

> On gartine:
> Also called ‘skysteel.’  An extremely rare blue metal, extraordinarily light, made via a magical process practiced upon fine steel.  In addition to providing fine weaponry and armor, and being of generally enchantable quality, skysteel is thought to retard the aging process.  There are tales of ancient kings building sleeping chambers out of skysteel, to increase their own spans of years.  The spells required to produce gartine are generally thought to have vanished over a thousand years ago, and no attempt to recreate the formulae has been successful.





			
				Run #44 (page 52) said:
			
		

> Remarkably, the party notice that a large gold band sits on a mantelpiece in the Bimson home, a ring that looks the twin of the ring found on the Wilburforce statue in Dingman’s Ferry!  It doesn’t detect as magical.  Kibi’s mother claims the ring was found with her in the ruins of her village.
> ...
> _Memory read_ spells cast on Kibi’s mom (with her consent, of course) have mixed results; they seem to confirm her discovery by her husband, but an attempt to share her memory about the first time she saw the ring fails.  Clearly something odd is going on.





			
				Run #51 (page 64) said:
			
		

> Also, while Flicker, Ernie and Morningstar train, Tor, Kay and Kibi take a two week vacation, sailing to Kynder Hold and then taking the flying carpet to Eggemoggin by way of Hae Kalkas.  There they convince Kibi’s mom to give them her precious Gold Ring™ family heirloom.
> ...
> On their way back to Tal Hae, they stop at Hae Kalkas and pay the Hae Kalkas Sages’ Consortium to research several topics ...  Then they discover that Kibi’s mom’s Ring is gone!  None of them can remember where they might have lost it, so they trace their flight back to Eggemoggin, where they find the Ring has appeared again on Kibi’s mom’s mantelpiece.  Clearly it has some strong magical tie to Kibi’s mom, and they decide to travel back to Tal Hae without it.



Welcome back Sagiro, and congratulations on the new daughter-to-be.


----------



## Solarious

*giggles like a maniac drug addict and basks in the warmth of a new update*

Ahhhhhhh.... *puffs the SH*


----------



## Plane Sailing

Sweet family reunion story  Plus your descriptive style is cinematic - I could imagine it all unfolding on the big screen before me!

Also - congrats on the impending arrival in August. My two daughters are 2.5 years apart, and they love playing games with each other now. It's a nice age gap.

Cheers


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 271*_
*Explanations*

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.”

Kibi is deliriously happy.   Learning that his grandfather is a great wizard who lives in a magic workshop with little earth elementals has exceeded his wildest dreams.

“I always knew there was something special about my mother,” he says. “She encouraged my magic, even when other dwarves mocked me for it, and thought it was... a bit odd.   But she didn’t remember anything about where she had come from, or how she he gotten there.”

“She probably won’t,” concedes Cranchus.  “She’ll be lucky if she has any memory at all.”

“She has the most wonderful voice. And the best sense of humor.”  Kibi sighs.  He loves his mother, like a good son should.

“Yeah, that sounds like her,” says Cranchus.  “So, I guess she got it all back.”

Cranchus allows Kibi to gaze upon his mother for a few more minutes in silence, before they retire to the adjacent room and Cranchus seals off the stasis chamber.

“Do you know the stories they tell about you, down in the valley?” Kibi asks.

“They call you ‘Crunchy,’" says Ernie with a grin.

“Crunchy?”  Cranchus is appalled.  “They call me Crunchy?  Hrmph.  Well, they can call me what they want, I suppose.

Kibi relates the stories they’d heard, while Cranchus alternately chuckles and shakes his head.  

“All absurd,” Cranchus declares.  “Though one of my experiments did go awry early on and caused some...seismic activity.  Maybe the stories stem from that.   I was learning to harness my one access point to the Source.  I have some gems soaking in it right now, in fact.”

The what now?  The Source?  

Without even knowing exactly what that is, Ernie exclaims, “Maybe that can restore the Eyes!”

“Yeah!” agrees Dranko.  “Let ‘em soak up some Earth Magic until they’re working again.”

Cranchus laughs.  “It will take a little more fine crafting than that.  But remind me:  you need these Eyes to go back home, and they interact somehow with Condor’s Plinths to effect time travel?”

“They controlled our getting here,” says Aravis.  

At Cranchus’s urging the Company relates all the relevant details:  what day and year they left, what the visual effects were when the Mirrors started flashing, and everything else they can think of.  This leads to a discussion about whether they’ll need to leave the Eyes behind, to avoid there being two sets in the future.   And there’s even more confusion about the Wilberforce Ring, which has also been called “Cranchus’s Gift.”

“Don’t we have to have it, so we can travel without going crazy?” asks Ernie.  “But then... we have to have left it here, so we can find it again in the future.  And I don't understand exactly when it is that you actually _make_ it.  Oh, my head hurts.”

“Ah, a fascinating topic,” says Cranchus.  “You seem to be suffering from the fallacy of the Fixed Prime Event Theory... an understandable misconception.”

“This isn’t going to involve onions and parfaits, is it?” asks Morningstar.

“Did you say ‘phallus?’ asks Dranko.

“I said ‘fallacy.’  It means an incorrect method of deduction.”

“But what is it, this... fixed event thingy?” asks Ernie. 

“It’s an assumption that every temporal loop needs a starting point,” explains Cranchus.  “That every object needs a moment of creation.”  In response to the blank looks from most of the party, he continues.   “Here, I’ll show you what I mean.”  He draws the number ‘6’ on a piece of paper.  “There you are.”

The party continues to stare, not as immediately enlightened as Cranchus seems to hope.  

“That’s a six,” Morningstar correctly points out.

“Er... yes,” says Cranchus.  He points to the “tail” of the six.  “Here’s where I must have made the belt.”  

Then he traces the rest of the ‘6,’ but continues to draw the loop, going around and around in a circle.

“Here’s the loop we’re in.  The spur, where we started, where I crafted the belt, doesn’t exist anymore, but it did."

“So now it’s a zero,” says Dranko, scratching his head.

“Exactly!  The ‘6’ doesn’t exist any more, and now we’re in the ‘0’, but I must have made the belt back in the six.   Reality has pinched it off, closing the loop, to avoid there being a paradox." 

Morningstar finds it easier to simply concede.  “I believe you,” she says, and means it.

Sensing there’s still some confusion, Cranchus keeps going.  “There’s no essential permanence to the spur of a temporal loop.  In fact, as often as not, it has to become nonexistent to ensure proper continuity.  Do you see?”

“So it can be made, even if no one actually ever made it?” asks Ernie.  “Then...then how did it get on the statue?”

“Because you put it there,” says Cranchus.  “And you find it in the future, so that you can come back and do that.  That’s the loop.  It seems like a paradox because you can’t see the spur anymore.   You can’t see the tail of the “6,” when the ring was made, because you’re in the ‘0.’”  

“But how are we going to get home without it?” asks Kibi, coming back around to Ernie’s original question.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.  I’ll just make you a new one.  You’ll need it – otherwise the energy involved in time travel would blow you all into bits, scattered across all of Abernia.”

Grey Wolf gulps.  “Er, lets’ avoid that, shall we?”

“I’m more confused than I was before,” says Ernie.  “Does anyone want lunch?”

It turns out that Cranchus hasn’t eaten real food in several years, though he does confess to munching on rocks now and then.   “I even eat a ruby or two each month – keeps me sharp.”  But Cranchus admits that while he still _could_ eat real food, he’s a terrible cook, and he’s been alone for so long, he no longer bothers. 

This prompts Kibi to ask, “So, why would it be so dangerous to the rest of the world if you left this place?  Why would _you_ be dangerous?”

Cranchus sighs and rumbles.  “Too much contact with the Source.”

“What’s the Source?” asks Dranko.

“You do know where magic comes from, right?  It comes from deep inside the earth...”

“Or it comes from where the Cleaners are,” interrupts Dranko.  “You know, from where all those tentacles are.”

Cranchus blinks.  “What?”

“Remember that place with all the horrible tentacles?” appeals Dranko to the rest of the party.  “Wasn’t that place generating strong Earth Magic?”

Aravis and Kibi explain Het Branoi to Cranchus, but also remind Dranko that the Earth Magic and the “Cleaners” came from different sources.

“As I was saying,” Cranchus continues, “Magic comes, not surprisingly,  from the Earth, and not the air, as most conventional wizards believe.  In some very rare places, there are vents which lead down to... well, you know that Abernia, at it’s heart, is molten.  It’s made of lava, for want of a better term."

“Really?  Lava” asks Ernie, excited by the thought.

“That’s where magic is generated,” explains Cranchus.  “Sometimes it bubbles up close to the surface, so that we can be exposed to it directly.   There is such a vent near here, where I go sometimes to augment my experiments.   But I’ve spent too much time there, and become infused with magic directly from the Source.  The accident that killed my wife... well, if I were to leave here, and go out away from the Source, that sort of accident would be happening around me, all the time."  

“We know what that’s like,” says Morningstar.   “When we were in the wrong world, the Eyes told us we had to stay near your Stabilizer all the time, or we would tear apart the universe.”  

“And you were only able to exist there in the first place because of what you called the Greenhouse,” muses Cranchus, stroking his beard. “Hmmmm.   That’s an interesting case, right there.  From what you’ve told me, this Abernathy sounds like quite an interesting person, and his Greenhouse... well, I’d like to study it sometime.”

“You’re welcome to come visit us, in the future,” says Ernie. 

“I will, if I can ever figure out a way to leave here safely,” says Cranchus. 

“Or maybe,” says Dranko, _we_ can visit _you_ in the future!”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” warns Cranchus.  “Just being here is dangerous.”

“Because we’d get infused by the Source?” asks Kibi.

“Exactly.  In fact, you’d be badly off staying here as long as it will take me to fix these Eyes of yours.  But don’t worry -- I’ll make you an extradimensional shelter. You should stay in that as often as you can.”

“Is it staying here that’s made you so powerful?” asks Kibi.

“That’s part of it,” answers Cranchus.  “I’ve also been studying and learning for sixty years, and I was already pretty good when I left home.  I might be the most powerful Earth Mage on Abernia right now.  Condor was certainly more powerful, but then he... displeased the Emperor.”

The Company obviously presses him for more on that!

“I don’t know the details – it’s hard for me to scry things related to the Black Circle.  But I am a powerful diviner – I have to be, to keep an eye on things out there, and make sure they’re not aware of me here.  But I know about Condor.  He built his Plinths, and then he sent his daughter, Moirel, into some kind of gateway in their center.  When she didn’t come back, the Emperor deemed them a failure, and punished Condor severely.  No one but the Emperor wields any significant power without his approval.  The Emperor stripped Condor of much of his ability.  I don’t know why.  The Emperor is... not of this world, is the best way I can describe it.  He is, but he isn’t.  Something happened to him.”

“_We_ know what happened to him,” says Dranko.  They explain to Cranchus about the Black Goo that affected Ernie and Aravis.

“Do you know how we can get rid of the Black Goo altogether?” asks Ernie.

“You’ve said that you already tried casting _wish_, so I expect you’ll need some kind of powerful divine intervention.”

“Oh boy,” says Ernie.

“But I wouldn’t worry,” says Cranchus, “if it’s not affecting how you think or feel, and you don’t detect as evil.  Still, if you find a way to be rid of it, I wouldn’t turn it down.”

Ernie and Aravis nod in agreement. 

“Cranchus,” asks Kibi, changing the subject to something he’s been meaning to bring up.  “I had a dream – a prophetic dream, I think – about Abernia having a splinter.  Does that ring any bells?”

“Yes!” answers Cranchus, surprised.  “The earth has said similar things to me over the decades.  That it needs my help and understanding, that it’s wounded and needs to be healed.  But I’ve never been sure what that means.”

“Me neither,” admits Kibi.  “But... if I do figure it out, could we come back and visit you, in the future?”

“We could even bring your daughter!” says Ernie.

“Please don’t bring her back here,” says Cranchus, growing solemn.  “The accident that took my wife’s life was not the last one I’ve had.  It’s just that now, there’s no one left to kill.  I’d like to keep it that way.  It will be enough for me to know that my Gela is living a full and happy life.”

At Dranko’s suggestion, Cranchus does promise to write a letter to his daughter, that Kibi can take back with him.  He seems brightened by the prospect.

“And now, I should get started on fixing your time-travel gems,” says Cranchus.   “Feel free to wander around, but don’t touch anything that looks dangerous, and spend most of your time in the ‘mansion.’”  

It turns out that when Cranchus casts “Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion,” it always ends up being a series of connected caves, not unlike the one he lives in.  It does have beds, and a pool of clean water, though the banquet table is covered with small rocks.   


* *


The next day the Company spends mostly inside the _mansion_, though Cranchus invites Kibi to visit the cave in which he accesses the Source.  En route they pass a room full of hourglasses, which Cranchus explains are part of his own experiments in time travel.  He’s never made much headway, and it’s clear he feels both some jealousy toward Condor and his successes in that area, as well as some schadenfreude regarding Condor’s punishment at the hands of the Emperor.  

The Source Chamber is little more than a wide stone platform high above a river of lava.  Kibi can feel Earth Magic streaming up from below, along with the intense heat.  Cranchus has shaped himself a number of outcroppings that hang in the full blast of the Source, and on these has placed several gems, including two of the Eyes of Moirel.   He warns Kibi that while the Source helps augment his spells, if he spends too much time in its direct radiance he would start to physically fly apart.  Despite that warning Kibi finds it difficult to leave that place – the Source has an addictive quality that he is reluctant to relinquish even after only a few minutes.

“These are forces you don’t mess around with,” warns Cranchus.   Spend too much time here, and you’ll turn out like me.  You don’t want that – trust me.”

The truth of this warning is well demonstrated a couple of days later, when those in the Company who are outside the _mansion_ hear a tremendous explosion a few caverns over.  Some stalactites are shaken loose from the ceiling and clouds of dust kick up from the floor.  Minutes later a door is shaped open nearby and Cranchus stumbles through in a daze, his half-flesh, half-stone skin covered with glowing striations and smears of dwarfish blood.   Dranko rushes forward to heal him.  Kibi can feel the Earth Magic radiating out from him.

Cranchus shakes his head.  

“It happens,” he whispers hoarsely.  “It happens.  But it will only set me back a day or two, and I’ve already learned something about the Eyes.  I have a theory, anyhow.  These Eyes, they work with Condor’s Plinths to allow time travel.   They would need to draw on a huge amount of Earth Magic to work, but by mathematical necessity they couldn’t draw power from _this_ earth – from Abernia.  It would lead to some paradoxes and... well, planetary ruin.   So the Eyes, the first time they were called upon, must have found another nearby Prime, and used that one.  I’m guessing that they created a Slave Prime in the process.”

A ha!  That would be Volpos, the world that the Black Circle tried to cause to overlap Abernia in order to transfer the Emperor and his armies.   The world on which the Emperor is, thankfully, still trapped.

“That’s a phenomenon found sporadically throughout the cosmos,” explains Cranchus.  “Slave Primes.  Sometimes two Primes get caught up together, and one gets cut off entirely from all the coterminous planes – you know, the Astral, the Ethereal, etcetera.  The Slave Prime is cut off from all other planes save its ‘master.’  They are perfect places for a prison, if you want to stop someone from escaping via planar travel.  I’ve always wondered how such places come into being.  I guess it must be unique in each case.”

Aravis asks, “If the connection between Prime and Slave is severed, would that cause the Slave to be cut off entirely, or freed to the rest of the universe?”

“I’d guess cut off entirely,” says Cranchus.  “But that would be extremely hard to do, assuming it’s possible at all.  I doubt Condor intended that to happen in this case.  I think the Eyes did it on their own – they needed a world to power Moirel’s time travel, and there was Volpos, and wham – Slave Prime.”

Ernie smiles.  “So the Emperor was indirectly responsible for creating his own eventual prison, and probably has no idea?”

Cranchus chuckles.  Dranko lets out a loud guffaw.  

“Now that’s comedy!”


...to be continued...


----------



## Jackylhunter

I read this wonderful story, and it makes me sad.  My own D&D group just spent 3 hours debating what the wholesale prices on dinosaurs were.  Sad really.

Anyway, great story again, keep up the good work.
-Jackylhunter


----------



## el-remmen

Great to see an update!

I love the informative ones as much as the "action" ones. . .


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

I love the explanation of time travel vis a vis paradoxes, as well as the concept of the "slave prime."  I may have to yoink that!


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

How wonderful to get an e-mail about an update, and not have it be a bump. 

GW


----------



## Dawn

What a truely awesome time to be able to return to the Story Hours.  A double posting!  Happy is me.


----------



## Piratecat

We played again last night, for the first time in six months! Hooray, hooray. It's no exaggeration when I say that Dranko's character sheet had dust on it.

And without giving any spoilers, I'd like to say that Sagiro is a bad, _bad_ man.


----------



## CTSparky

*Great!*

I'm very happy that you guys started playing again and that updates are on their way.

Continue the great work.

CTS


----------



## Solarious

Piratecat said:
			
		

> We played again last night, for the first time in six months! Hooray, hooray. It's no exaggeration when I say that Dranko's character sheet had dust on it.
> 
> And without giving any spoilers, I'd like to say that Sagiro is a bad, _bad_ man.



 You say that like you're learning that fact for the first time. Then again, you could be excused by the fact that Sagrio has been working hard for the last 6 months without you.

Could; since, after all, you knew very well that Sagrio was working hard at terrorizing the nightmares of innocent dreamers everywhere in the form of Bioshock. You really should know better. 

What _does_ Sagrio do at Irrational Games anyways?


----------



## Chesspiece

Although Dranko has some of his typical impolite (cigar, age, dead wife) and avaricious (gem eye) moments, he really seemed a little light on the crude humour - all he had was his phallas-y question.  Were there more comments that were missed, or is he slipping?  I mean, he could have done the whole “your Mom is hot” thing with Kibi.  I suppose it wouldn’t be the best idea in front of an arch-wild-mage father and his flame-striking wife.  But that wouldn’t have stopped the old Dranko!

[Note: The above is not merely an excuse to bump… or is it?]


----------



## Vargo

Ooo, Bioshock just went gold!

Update? 

(Just kidding.  Your families probably want to see all y'all after the most recent deathmarch.)


----------



## Piratecat

Chesspiece said:
			
		

> Although Dranko has some of his typical impolite (cigar, age, dead wife) and avaricious (gem eye) moments, he really seemed a little light on the crude humour - all he had was his phallas-y question.  Were there more comments that were missed, or is he slipping?  I mean, he could have done the whole “your Mom is hot” thing with Kibi.  I suppose it wouldn’t be the best idea in front of an arch-wild-mage father and his flame-striking wife.  But that wouldn’t have stopped the old Dranko!



Thank goodness, I'm usually a good enough player to recognize when it is someone else's moment in the sun, and to shut the hell up during those times. This was Kibi's moment; interrupting such things would be rude.

Sagiro IS now done with Bioshock, although juggling certain other responsibilities. I'll poke him!


----------



## LightPhoenix

So where's my copy?   

I'm planning on picking it up, so don't update until I'm done playing it!


----------



## Vargo

While we're waiting, I'll just note that I played the PC demo tonight, in the dark, with a pair of headphones.

Sagiro, Piratecat, you both owe me a new pair of shorts.  I'm picking it up tomorrow.


----------



## wedgeski

Yep, seems like a veritable work of art so far. Can't wait until Friday for the full game (damn these European release dates!!).

Congrats to the entire Irration-- er, sorry, 2K Boston team. 

Edit: 4 chapters and 15 hours in and I don't want it to end. There isn't a nook or, verily, a cranny that I have left unexplored. Bravo guys.


----------



## wedgeski

The risk of being annoying won't stop me bumping this SH and asking for a teeny-tiny update. It seems PC's poking-foo isn't all it's cracked up to be.


----------



## energy_One

I, personally, agree with all those craving more SSH. That being said, I'm also craving more BioShock today. I think one or the other will suffice.

Congrats, Sagiro, if congratulating one on that sort of thing is a social nicety.


----------



## Atanatotatos

c'mon, someone please bump!!

please, sagiro, more!!


----------



## Kayl

Breaking a long time of lurking:

thanks for sharing this masterpiece of campaign building and development, Sagiro. Hope we'll see more of this thread in the future.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Over the last few weeks I've been catching up with this wonderful Story Hour.

In that time, Sagiro has aged at least two years (probably more, but only mentioned two birthdays), got married, had a kid, seen the release of Bioshock...and DM'd one of the best games I've heard of.

A massive set of congratulations to him for that, and to the players also. I look forward to all future updates, and to whatever game comes out of the switch to 4e!

This may also serve as a well-meaning BUMP, safe in the knowledge that I'll not offer another bump at any point.

Sagiro - as someone who has written Story Hours myself, let me say that I would wait another few years to see the continuation of this one.


----------



## Atanatotatos

ditto. AND, i may me too sentimental, but I want to see this on the first page


----------



## Atanatotatos

Uhmmm.... I don't mean to post two bumps ina row... just... what do you think, guys? Are we going to have a new update sooner or later?


----------



## el-remmen

Atanatotatos said:
			
		

> what do you think, guys? Are we going to have a new update sooner or later?





My bet would be on 'later' rather than 'sooner'.  He's a busy guy with a demanding job, a young family and a kick-ass campaign to play in, let alone this one he is running. . .

At least when he _does_ update, he tends to do so with some frequency for a while before dropping off again.


----------



## darkhall-nestor

Woops I thought I was going to read a new el-remmen post in his Second son story hour but I am I’m reading an el-remmen post in Sagiro’s story hour

Both story hours are GREAT by the way

If only Sagiro would ignore his kids (like I’m trying unsuccessfully to do now) and post some new story hour goodness or get a book deal and write a novelized version
(Now the two year old is stealing cookies got to go)


----------



## thegreyman

Would it be possible for P-Kitty, KidC, anyone from that group to drop in and let us know what's up?  I miss my favorite story hour...  I cry everynight thinking of poor Dranko and his lick-a-holic obsession that will never be resolved....


----------



## Sagiro

I apologize for the slight delay since my last posting.  I'm happy to say that the family is well; my eldest daughter just had her 3rd birthday, and my youngest just turned 6 months.   As for the campaign, it continues, albeit more slowly than in years past.  Work and family and the busy social lives of my players have conspired to make our sessions less frequent, but the game goes on!

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 272*_
*Eyes on the Prize*

Cranchus and the Company continue to discuss the details of their strange travels, past and future.

“When we got here,” says Aravis, “_We_ powered the Eyes.  I used the Crosser’s Maze.”

“I don't know if that will be necessary for the return trip,” says Cranchus.  “There’s a lack of symmetry in time travel.  Going forward and going backward use different temporal mechanics.   Still... things _should_ work out fine.  But here’s the interesting thing, and I haven’t been able to figure out the answer.  This Greenhouse of yours.  And your butler – Eddings.  I don’t know what’s going to happen to him, or that other fellow you said is with him.”

“If they’re inside the Greenhouse, we presume they’ll be safe,” says Ernie, but his tone betrays this as only a hopeful guess.

“I’ve been trying to place them in the temporal loop, but it’s got me stumped," says Cranchus.  "The universe will take care of itself, I’m sure, but I don’t know how.”

“If our theory is correct,” says Aravis, “and stopping Inivane stopped the experiment that ended up with us getting here, then the Greenhouse will be back where it’s supposed to be.”

Cranchus frowns.  “Well, on the one hand, the Greenhouse caused you to exist in a time where you couldn’t have otherwise been.  But in the future you now have ahead of you, this Carp will never be born.”

“Raise your hand if you trust Abernathy,” says Dranko.

Everyone in the Company raises a hand (Flicker raises two for emphasis), but Morningstar still has her doubts.

“But Abernathy didn’t know about Carp,” she says.

Ernie sighs.  “But even if something were to go wrong, is there anything we could do about it?”

“No,” says Cranchus.  “It’s all a purely intellectual exercise for us.”

“I hate those,” says Ernie.

“I’m sure the Greenhouse will come out fine,” says Aravis.  “But Carp, I don’t know about.”

“And Sagiro,” adds Grey Wolf.  “Don’t forget we left him there too.”


* *

A week later, Cranchus announces he knows how to fix the Eyes.  A few days after that, he comes to the Company with news.

“I have to warn you,” he says.  “I could not repair them fully.  I don’t understand them well enough, and I doubt I ever will.  But give me one more day to tinker, and they should be repaired enough to get you back.”

“That’s probably for the best,” says Ernie.  “If they were still alive and kicking when we got back, the Sharshun could presumably try this trick again.”

“The Eyes remember Cranchus,” points out Morningstar.

Cranchus frowns.  “You say these things were sentient, but I have no idea how that could be.”

“They told us that their creator didn’t understand them,” says Ernie.

Cranchus laughs.  “Well, if Condor didn’t understand them, I don’t know how I’m supposed to.  But I’ll do some more tinkering, in case they need their sentience back to do... whatever it is they do.  I’ve also got to warn you about a couple more things.  I _think_ I can get you back to the exact time you left, but I’m not sure.  It’ll be close... maybe even exact...  not sure.

“As long as we don’t run into ourselves...” says Grey Wolf.

“And there’s one other thing,” continues Cranchus.  “The future is going to be... _almost_ exactly like you remembered.”

This is greeted with alarmed silence.  

Sensing there’s more, Ernie prompts the stony dwarf:  “But...”

“There’s really no ‘but.’  The universe has a way of taking care of itself, but you’ll only have been gone a couple thousand years, which in the grand scheme of things isn’t a lot of time to smooth out the wrinkles.  So, there may be one or two small  -- almost certainly inconsequential -- differences.  The people you’ve met will be the same, and they’ll remember you, and remember all the same things that you do.   Probably.   But maybe someone will have a different hair color, that sort of thing.  Because when the universe plays itself out from now to your present, some little things will have happened differently.”

“Maybe we’ll own some new houses in a second town...” muses Grey Wolf. 

“That’s more drastic than what I’m talking about,” says Cranchus, “but you never know.  If you want, I could try to work in a little excess oscillation, though that wouldn’t be much more than a roll of the dice.”

This suggestion is met with a chorus of ‘no’s’

“In the worst case,” says Cranchus – and perhaps he doesn’t mean to say this out loud – “you’d show up to find that you’d never been born.  I don’t know what would happen then.”

Not for the first time, Ernie says, “My head hurts.”  So, maybe to get some answers, and maybe just to feel better, he casts _commune_.

“Yondalla, I ask the boon of an audience with thee.”

He feels a chill through his body, and the smell of fresh bread fills his nostrils.

*YOU ARE OUT OF PLACE.*

“You’re telling me,” mutters Ernie.

*BUT YOU MAY ASK YOUR QUESTIONS.*

“Can my friend Morningstar get out of being the Slayer?”

*I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS.*

Hm.  Not a good sign.

“Can you only answer questions about this time, or can you see into the future?”

*THE FUTURE AS FAR AS YOURS IS VERY HARD TO SEE.*

“Then I might be wasting your time with most of these.  I apologize.  In our time, is our friend Tor still alive?”

Ernie expects no answer on this one either, but he feels something rooting around in his memories, as if the Divine presence hopes to piece together an answer from Ernie’s own experiences.

*YES, I THINK SO.*

“If we break the connection between Abernia and Volpos, will that seal off Volpos?”

*YES.  YES IT WILL.*

“If we seal off Volpos, will anyone on that plane be able to reach Abernia, or anywhere else?”

*NOT EASILY*

Do we have the means or the knowledge to separate Abernia from Volpos?

*YOU?  NOW?  NO.*

Is there anyone in our time who does have that knowledge?

*I DON’T KNOW.*

“If we split off Abernia and Volpos, would there be ill-effects to Abernia?”

*NO*

“In the future to which we’ll return, are Yoba’s people okay, without her guidance?”

*I DON’T KNOW.*

“Thank you very much.  It was nice to talking to you.”

*IT WAS NICE TO TALK WITH YOU AS WELL.  PERHAPS WE WILL TALK AGAIN CENTURIES HENCE.*

Morningstar also casts _commune_, though her reasons differ.  With all the rampant doctrinal strife occurring in her own time, she wants to learn what Ell’s policies and preferences were way back when... which is now.  It’s a unique opportunity that she does not let slip away.

She casts, and an Avatar of Ell is there, awaiting her inquiry.

“Can you answer questions about the current practices of the church?”

*YES*

“In my time, we avoid contact with the daylight, to the point where light can be used to harm and distract us, especially in combat.  Is this what the priestesses do in your time?”

*NO*

“Are there any who are trained to withstand the daylight?”

*NOT SPECIFICALLY*

“Do the priestesses train for combat in Ava Dormo?”

*YES*

“Do they open the doors of the temple during the day, to people who approach them then?”

*YES*

“Does this trouble Ell?”

*NO*

“Do they require that someone ask for help before providing it?”

*YES*

“Do they walk in the daylight?”

*IF THERE IS NEED*

“Does this trouble Ell?”

*NO*

“By coming here, have we jeopardized Cranchus?  Will the Emperor find him because of us?”

*PROBABLY NOT*

“Is there anything we can do to keep him safer?”

*DON’T STAY TOO LONG*

“Thank you.”

The Avatar fades.

“Not what I was expecting,” she says.  “The Illuminated Sisters have an historical basis for two out of three.”  She has much to contemplate.

* *

Back in Cranchus’s “living room,” the Company gathers for more conversation.  

“Cranchus,” asks Kibi, “in the future, what will be the best way to communicate with you?”

“You’d have to come visit,” rumbles Cranchus.   “You can’t cast _sendings_ in or out.  Can’t _xorn move_ in here either, or _teleport_, or anything like that.  I’m not about to make myself any _less_ protected in the foreseeable future.”

“I’d say you’re the probably the most powerful Archmagi of our time,” says Dranko, perhaps hoping to take the edge off of Cranchus’s paranoia.  

Cranchus chuckles.  “Nice to know I’ll live that long!”

“If we do come to visit, is there anything you’d like us to bring?” asks Kibi.

“Another one of your pies,” says Cranchus, addressing Ernie directly

“Any advice on how to use the Gartine Arches to travel between Charagan and Kivia?” asks Dranko.

That stumps Cranchus.  “There are gartine arches?”

“Yeah,” says Dranko, pleased to know something Cranchus doesn’t.  “They link Charagan and Kivia across the Uncrossable Sea”

“You don’t say!  I didn’t know that.”

Dranko then offers to give Cranchus one of the translator disks from Het Branoi, that only work in the presence of strong Earth Magic.

“Sure,” says Cranchus, taking the small disk.  “I don’t really need it, but I suppose it’s possible something could dispel the permanent _tongues_.”

_Permanent tongues._.  Dozens of lewd remarks pass through Dranko’s head in an instant, and everyone knows it.

“Don’t.  Just don’t,” warns Ernie.

Dranko opens his mouth, but with a great effort says nothing.  “And you say I have no strength of character,” he mutters.

“I’m very, very impressed,” says Ernie.

“You have no strength of character,” opines Aravis with a smirk.  “You do have strength of _will._”

Ernie reiterates his hope that the Eyes only have one ‘charge’ remaining, so that the Sharshun won’t be able to get their hands on them and try again.  That leads to a rambling discussion of the Mirrors, and the Emperor, and Condor.  Dranko points out, when the subject of Condor comes up, that both Condor and Cranchus have lost a daughter to their Wild Magic experiments.

“I haven’t lost my daughter,” says Cranchus sharply.  “I’ve lost my wife.  My daughter’s still alive, and evidently goes on to be Kibi’s mother.”

“Yeah, but she’s going to be a bookend for, like, 1500 years,” says Dranko.

In aghast unison, all others of the Company exclaim “DRANKO!”

Cranchus can’t decide whether to be offended or amused.

“It’s okay,” he grumbles.  “At least, _now_ it’s okay, knowing what I know about how things turn out.”

“It’s still rude,” says Ernie.

“What do you expect!” laughs Cranchus.  “He’s a half-o...”

“Don’t say it,” snaps Aravis.  “That’s rude, too.”

“What, that Dranko’s a half-orc?” says Kibi, instinctively defending his grandfather.  “But that’s true!”

“I would have said ‘d*ck,’” says Grey Wolf, mostly under his breath.

“Well, I _have_ thanked him for his hospitality,” says Dranko earnestly.   “He’s been very kind to us.”

“Thank you,” grumbles Cranchus.  It’s hard to tell how seriously he’s taking all of this.

“Dranko,” says Ernie, “you’ve done a good job remembering the rule:  ‘Ernie’s the one who comforts the bereaved.’  Here’s a new one for you:  ‘Stop at thank you.’”

“He’s sort of a work in progress,” Grey Wolf explains.

Cranchus nods, grunts, then stands and stretches with a sound like a small rockslide.  “I’ll need one more day to get the Eyes ready.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* *


The following day Cranchus presents a small stone plate upon which rest all seven Eyes of Moirel, restored to their unblemished state.   They even emit a soft glow, which is a new trick for them in their resting state.

“I had the most fascinating talk with the Green one!” exclaims Cranchus.  “I don’t know how they became sentient, but they are.  They all are!  And this one here, on the end?  It’s a right bastard!  If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was trying to fight me, so it wouldn’t have to go back.”

He gestures to what the Company assumes is the Red Eye, and they offer their agreement.

“And here’s the other thing you’ll need,” continues Cranchus.  He hands Ernie a gold and silver circle, a _belt of stability_ somewhat similar to the one Ernie recently affixed to the Wilburforce statue.  

“Best  I could do on short notice,” says Cranchus, “but it’ll do the trick.  Now, about the Eyes.   When you get to the Plinths, it’ll take a few minutes for them to warm up once you’re in the center, if I understand how they work.  That could take five, maybe ten minutes.”

“I recommend we prepare for an attack while that’s happening,” says Dranko.

“I doubt that,” says Cranchus.  “The Plinths have been abandoned for years, and I still scry them from time to time.  After Condor’s experiment, which...heh, heh... appeared to be a dismal failure, the Emperor punished him severely, and they abandoned the site.”  

(Ernie notes that this does match the local halfling account of events.)

“Can you scry the area one more time, right before we go there?” asks Dranko.

“Of course.  Condor _is_ a tricky one.  I’d be surprised if he could divine anything about your coming, since...  I forgot to mention... I built an anti-divinatory into the Eyes when I fixed them.”

“Great!” exclaims Dranko.

“And I’m prepared to do you one more favor,” Cranchus continues.  “I can _teleport_ you out of here, up to the surface.  Must have been nasty finding your way down here on foot; I’ll spare you the annoyance of backtracking.  I can probably get you fairly close to the mirrors, but...”  

And here he turns to Kibi and winks.

“...wear your _helmet of waterbreathing_.”

Cranchus leads the group through his caverns, opening up passage after passage with his innate ability to _stone shape_.   As they walk, Dranko suggests to Cranchus that he could write a letter to his daughter and actually put it on her person, so that when she recovers from the accident, she’ll have some guidance.  Cranchus looks thoughtful.

““Did she have a letter when she was found?” he asks.

“No,” says Kibi.

“Then I’d best not.”

Dranko stammers.  “But... I... ok... fine.  Stupid time travel.”

They reach Cranchus’s scrying chamber, and he spends a few minutes casting before all the Company sees the abandoned Mirrors of Semek in his scrying mirror.  The party mages are impressed; Cranchus seems to be _scrying_ a place rather than a person, which is not normally how these things work.

“It should be simple,” says Cranchus.  “Aravis, you won’t have to supply any extra power, and Kibi, you won’t need to keep everyone grounded.  Traveling forward in time is different, and simpler.  All you’ll need to do is make sure Ernie’s wearing his belt, and that you’re all touching him.”

“How will the Eyes know _when_ to take us?” asks Dranko.

“It’s all about Ernie,” answers Cranchus.  “They’ll try to return him to the exact moment he left.  Of course, that’s not an exact science either.  You might get there a little early, or a little late.  Late, that’s not a problem.  Early... well, let’s say that would be very interesting.

“What happens if we meet ourselves?” asks Dranko.

“That would be the 'very interesting' part.”

“And what about the Greenhouse?” asks Ernie.

“I have no idea.  It might be there, it might not.  Or maybe it’ll still be traveling through time when you get back., and will just show up one day.”

Dranko’s eyes narrow as another thing occurs to him.  “If things have changed, is it possible that our past selves will have done stuff that we don’t remember?  Like, let’s say our past selves stormed the Castle of Glassamere.   Then we pop in, but _we_ haven’t done that.  But _somebody_ must have.  If the people who actually _had_ stormed the castle get displaced to somewhere else – the other me, the one who’s displaced, is going to come after me for revenge.  ‘Cause I know me.  If I lived in a nice happy world, and another me came and kicked me out to someplace else, I would absolutely come back and kick my own ass.”

Cranchus sighs.  “No.  It doesn’t work like that.  You won’t exist in that case.  I mean the other you.  He won’t exist to take revenge...you’ll be him!”

“Oh,” says Dranko, brightening.   "So, you’re saying I get his stuff.”

_“You’re him._  It’s your stuff!  But don’t get worked up about it.  Remember, that’s the sort of thing that should be smoothed out.  It’s _theoretically_ possible, of course, that you’ll have done all sorts of things differently than you remember.  This is all theory.  And you, you’re the practice.”

“My head hurts,” says Ernie.

“Like I said,” says Cranchus, “I’ve infused the Eyes with an anti-divinatory, but abjuration isn’t my specialty, while divination _is_ the bailiwick of the Black Circle.  I’m pretty confident that whatever means they have to track Ernie and Aravis, this will foil.  And I _know_ they don’t’ know where you are now.  They can’t _scry_ in here, and my continued existence is proof of that.”

“But we know they have prophecies where we show up at a certain place and a certain time, and there’s nothing we can do about that,” points out Morningstar.

“True,” admits Cranchus.  “There’s only so much I can do.”

In the final minutes before they take their leave of Cranchus’s demesnes, the Company tries to remember exactly what they had been doing right before the universe changed.  There was that parade celebrating Sealing Day, and King Farazil had possessed Ernie’s mom, to everyone’s chagrin.   

Dranko and Ernie both cast _auguries_:  “Will going right now to use the Eyes to return to the future bring us weal or woe?”

Dranko’s spell fails, but Ernie’s returns an answer of *WEAL AND WOE*.  

“Guess we’re getting ambushed then,” he says.  The only question is, will the ambush come before they travel, or after?  

The Company casts a final flurry of protective spells before uttering their final farewells.   Cranchus crushes Kibi in a rocky bear-hug.  

“I’ll have a happier next thousand years, knowing my daughter turns out okay, and will go on to have a son who’s a powerful Earth Mage in his own right.”

“It’s been such an honor to meet you,” says Kibi with a sniffle.  It’s not assured -- perhaps not even likely -- that they’ll ever see Cranchus in person again.

“Bah!” says Cranchus.  “Honor?  We’re family!  Don’t talk like that.”

“Well, it was an honor for _me_ to meet you,” says Dranko.

“That’s true,” says Cranchus.  “It was.”

And with that, the old dwarf, now almost half earth-elemental, _teleports_ the party back to the surface.  Next stop:  the future!

...to be continued...


----------



## Atanatotatos

Oh,so long! Great!


----------



## wedgeski

omnomnomnom.... aaaahhhh.  /satisfied burp


----------



## Fimmtiu

So awesome! And, as usual, Dranko still gets the best lines. Welcome back, Sagiro!


----------



## Micah

Thank You! Always a pleasure to read.


----------



## Kid Charlemagne

Sagiro said:
			
		

> And with that, the old dwarf, now almost half earth-elemental, _teleports_ the party back to the surface.  Next stop:  the future!
> 
> ...to be continued...




Now I have this image of Cranchus as Christopher Lloyd in _Back to the Future_...

"1.21 jigawatts!  1.21 jigawatts!"


----------



## Tamlyn

Micah said:
			
		

> Thank You! Always a pleasure to read.




Seconded.


----------



## blargney the second

My head hurts.  It's a happy hurt.


----------



## Shmoo

*supreme relief*

Ahhhhhh...


----------



## el-remmen

Great stuff as always, Sagiro!  I look forward to more.  

*Question:* Are you working towards a final end for this campaign?  Will you go 4E?

Also, this conversation reminded me of one near the end of my "Out of the Frying Pan" campaign:



> “So, we have no worries about the pasts we visited?” Roland asked, changing subjects. “I mean, the world we return to will be as we remember it, despite what we saw happen back then that was different, and despite the loss of one of the items granted by Chochokpi?”
> 
> Again, Hurgun of the Stone took some time before responding.
> 
> “Yes and no,” he finally said. “It _will_ affect things, though we can never be sure how. We think of time as linear, this moment follows one and is followed by another – but it is more like ripples in a pond, or the circular ridges in the ground when the earth explodes. Everything, from the forgotten bronze coin to the greatest knight of Neergaard is immersed in the liquid of time and no one of us can know how something or someone’s circles intercept that of others. It is impossible to predict. Things _change_ more often that you would imagine, but to the world and in the records of sages it as if those things had always been as they are. Some say the cosmos is in constant need of maintenance, that we only play the roles set to us by the gods to accomplish these changes and repairs, but the gods themselves are only pawns of some greater power; a power without form and whose reasons, if any, are unfathomable to us. Though I have erred on the side of arrogance and sought to know, and many have suffered because of it.”
> 
> “So. . .?” Roland began, but stopped.
> 
> “It is the nature of Time to repair itself,” Hurgun continued. “Even when flung out to the realms beyond reason, it seeks to cling to the at least the illusion of order. Only those involved near the center of these events can remember these things, and even then the mind tends to try to make it fit and make it work, until the true memory becomes a hazy thing, a dream, if it is remembered at all. And then again, who is to say what the true memory is, for was not the world different before then? So these small items may make small changes, or they make big ones. There may be some that will be immediately obvious, and ones that may not come to light until you are old men, and ones you may never encounter at all. And chances are you will not notice anyway. I would council you to forget.”
> 
> “Why?” Kazrack asked, growing blustery with anger once again.
> 
> “If you wish to keep your wits, surrender to your new memories,” Hurgun said. “The mortal mind cannot hold such disparate elements for too long without fracturing…”


----------



## wedgeski

el-remmen said:
			
		

> *Question:* Are you working towards a final end for this campaign?  Will you go 4E?



Oooohhh, good question.


----------



## Sagiro

el-remmen said:
			
		

> *Question:* Are you working towards a final end for this campaign?  Will you go 4E?




Yes, I'm working towards a final end -- and I always have been!  It's hard for me to say how far away I am from that end.  I'm tempted to say the campaign is about 65% - 75% done, but I could be way off in either direction.  

As for 4E -- no, I don't plan to switch.  I've already moved the campaign from 2E to 3E to 3.5E, and I can't put my players through another system-change wringer, let alone require them to spend hundreds more collective dollars on books.  That's no condemnation of 4E, which I find quite intriguing from what I've read, but I'm happy with 3.5 and figure I'll close out the campaign with it.

If I run a second campaign someday, it'll probably be using 4E, assuming it turns out not to suck.

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 273*_
*Condor’s Folly*

The Company appears in the dark, under a bright half-moon and a sky full of stars.   It’s a pleasantly warm evening with a light breeze ruffling the tall grasses indigenous to Harkran’s southern plain region.  The Mirrors of Semek, a.k.a. Condor’s Plinths, are not immediately at hand.   Aravis looks around with _arcane sight_ and there is no magic within a hundred feet.

But while Cranchus’s _teleportation_ was not spot-on accurate, things are not as dire as they might seem – as Grey Wolf’s half-elven eyes adjust to the moonlight he sees blocky shadows silhouetted against a darker horizon, no more than a couple hundred yards distant.  

They are doubly protected against observers, being both disguised as small rats by a _veil_ from Kibi and _invisible_ through Morningstar’s _cloak of night_.    A few minutes of walking brings them within a short stone’s throw of the Mirrors; they halt, and Morningstar casts _true seeing_.  Neither she nor Aravis can detect any magic auras besides the overwhelming Earth Magic radiating from the Plinths.

Suspicious of their inaccurate arrival, Dranko suggests they circle around to the far side of the Mirrors in case their vector of approach was specifically arranged by an enemy, but all seems just as quiescent on the far side.  Only the breeze and some field mice keep company with the Company.

Cautiously they move nearer to the standing stones, expecting ambush at every step.  As close an observation as they can make without crossing the perimeter shows no footprints or scuffmarks on the dry dirt within the ring.  As a final precaution Aravis casts _mirage arcana_, generating a duplicate illusionary ring of Mirrors next to the real ones,  and adds a fake _secure shelter_ in the middle of it implying that they might be hiding inside.

They step into the ring and walk warily to its center.  Kibi takes the restored Eyes of Moirel from his robes and holds them in his cupped hands; immediately they start to glow a soft white.  Seconds later they rise up into the air of their own volition, forming into a flat circle some ten feet above the ground.   There they begin to spin, and as happens on Flashing Day, white light flashes from Mirror to Mirror, reflecting off of each polished obsidian face until it forms a seven-pointed star.  Ernie concentrates on _Home_, one hand on his _belt of stability_.  

A minute passes.

Two minutes.

To maintain the ruse of the _mirage arcana_, Kibi uses his _staff of illusion_ to mimic the light show there.

Three minutes.

The Eyes of Moirel spin faster in their circle, and the translucent beams of light now start to flicker with color.

It is in the 6th minute, when the Company has just started to believe that the ambush will come at the end of their journey rather than the beginning, that they are attacked.


* *

Most wizards, if asked to produce magics that could send a subject far into the future, would laugh at the very idea.  For two reasons, the Earth Wizard Condor did not.

For one thing, laughing at Emperor Naloric is not typically conducive to long-term survival, no matter how outrageous his suggestions.  For another, Condor actually knew he could do it.  

Time travel was, at the time of the Emperor’s humble proposal, mostly a theoretical possibility.  Condor had dabbled in small ways over his many years of study, pulling at the threads of causality and continuum surrounding small, inanimate objects.   He had drawn up schematics for larger projects, surmised impossibly complex formulae, constructed elaborate jeweled constructs.   And he had descended to the deepest hot pits beneath the Emperor’s palace, there to commune with the Source and learn its secrets.  

Naloric was not normally a patient creature, but he took a surprisingly relaxed and tolerant attitude towards Condor’s eventual proposal – a ring of standing stones crafted in conjunction with a set of tortured and magic-saturated diamonds.   Condor suspected the reason, and he was correct: for all of Naloric’s malign power and formidable intellect, he didn’t really know what Condor was talking about when it came to the project’s details.  

“I anticipate that the entire undertaking will last eight months,” Condor had said at the conclusion of the presentation.   “My apprentices can begin on the plinths while I prepare the diamonds.  There will be seven of each, in order to preserve the essential symmetries of...”

Naloric cut him off with a dismissive wave.

*“Can your apparatus be tested, before I go myself?”*

“Of course, my lord Emperor,” Condor had said emphatically.  “I will be able to tune the diamonds as well as infuse the...”

*“Enough, Condor.  I believe you.  And to further demonstrate to me your great confidence, your daughter Moirel will be the test subject.  I will afford her that singular honor.”*

Time slowed then for Condor, and he knew that the next second contained many possibilities, few of them good.  His words, his expressions, his posture, these all could betray his concerns, his doubts, his unspoken fears of side-effects.   Would Naloric see into his soul, see that Condor had already considered that, were the Emperor not to return, the Earth Wizard would be unmatched in power in Charagan?

“You are generous beyond words,” is what he said.  “My daughter will blaze a trail for you through the centuries and return triumphant.”

*“Excellent.” *  Naloric smiled, and Condor suspected then that the Emperor knew every thought in his head, and didn’t care.   “I see no further need for delay.  You are dismissed.”

It took a little over a year for the completion of Condor's Plinths and what he called the "Diamond Keys."  Over forty slaves died during the construction, most from a combination of exhaustion and malnourishment, a few from being crushed beneath great masses of rock or collapsing scaffolds.  Naloric never once complained of the extended schedule, or offered Condor anything but his full support.

Moirel was a formidable Earth Wizard in her own right, a 31-year-old woman on a career trajectory to someday match or exceed her father in arcane might.  She stoically accepted her role as guinea-pig and spent most of the year studying, questioning, readying.  She even assisted Condor in some of the more fiddly bits of the Diamond Keys' creation, and co-authored a spell of fusion that set the perfect spheres of jet in the very center of each otherwise-flawless gemstone.

When the time came Moirel was confident of success.  She would take the seven Diamonds, stand in the center of the Plinths, and be transported some hundreds of years into the future.  She would only stay as long was necessary to ascertain the year, and then return.  (The journey back would require the casting of several complex spells, but nothing beyond her impressive talents.)

Had anyone consulted Cranchus about all of this he would have suggested a Ring of Stability to prevent Moirel from losing her sanity during the excursion.  But no one did, and long after Moirel vanished from the center of the flashing Plinths, Condor and Naloric still waited.  The plan had been for Condor's daughter to return to a time only 5 minutes after she left, but Condor insisted that time travel was an inexact science at best and that it could be hours instead of minutes.  

Naloric gave him one full day, during which Condor's thoughts transitioned from optimistic, to nervous, to an internal debate regarding whether he should resist the inevitable punishments or simply submit to them.  Already depressed by the apparent sacrifice of his only child, he settled on the latter when Naloric pronounced his judgment. 

*"Condor, you have failed me.  Furthermore, your inner thoughts of sedition and treachery have not escaped my notice.  I am displeased but not surprised; I have had many servants reach heights of power that invited such ambitions.  

"I will leave you your life, and will retain you in my court, albeit at a diminished position.  But your power must be culled -- it will be for your own good, in the long run."*

Condor bowed his head, and Naloric placed his hand upon it. 

Sometime later Condor regained consciousness.  He felt violated, angry, and in his mind and memories were now gaping holes that might never be refilled.  It was especially galling that he no longer possessed the knowledge to fully analyze his failure.  Still, possessed of a certainty that Moirel _had_ traveled through time but was either unable or unwilling to return, he brooded over his daughter's fate.  Excluded now from Naloric’s inner circle he found himself with abundant time for bitter introspection. 

Years passed, but Condor gained scant perspective.  Only his indignation and shame increased with time.  Moirel had not returned, and his Plinths were long abandoned, monuments to his greatest mistake.  ‘Condor’s Folly,” they were now called by some.   Finally, heedless of the potential consequences should Naloric discover his plot, he gained a forbidden audience with one of Naloric's three Oracular Crones.  The Crone, named Tizha, sat him in a room thick with incense mingled with the reek of fresh entrails.  Like all the Crones, Tizha was Blood-touched, and her aura was so foul that Condor, no stranger to evil’s palpable aspects, squirmed in his chair. 

He gave his gift of gold, and his gift of blood, and his gift of kin (a distant cousin, unlikely to be missed).  Tizha pronounced his fate.

"Your daughter is lost, but your legacy returns, and your Diamonds also.  One chance remains to you, in the half-moon light of Grenke's heavenly journey.  Muster what power remains to you, and take truth and gems from disjoint interlopers.  Should you survive – a thing by no means certain -- and present your proof, the Emperor will see you again with favor."

Some months later Tizha's prophetic words came to fruition.  Condor waited on each night of the half-moon, heavily enchanted and watching with perfect perception from the secret safety of one of his Plinths.  And the interlopers came, just as the Crone had foretold.

...to be continued...


----------



## blargney the second

Woah.  How long ago did you plan this story and upcoming encounter?


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 274*_
*The Last Step*


Condor steps out smoothly from the solid northernmost Plinth.   He is _invisible_, but in case anyone can see him regardless he is also surrounded by a cluster of _mirror images_. 

He is a Sharshun, or at very least a Mors Tarathi.   Muscles unbecoming of a wizard bulge beneath black robes; his bare arms and face are obscured by myriad tattoos and piercings.  His face has a timeless quality that belies estimates of age.   And confirming the Company’s worst fears, his skin is flesh and stone mingled, just like Cranchus.   

“Condor,” breaths Kibi in dismay.

“Hi, great-great-great-grand-dad,” says Grey Wolf.  “We’re just leaving.”

Condor ignores this meaningless babble; in fact, he is already casting.  An elder earth elemental appears much sooner than it should, towering in front of Aravis and standing nearly as tall as the Plinths themselves.  The Sharshun follows this with a tactically placed _wall of force_ before hissing:

 “This will return me to the Emperor’s favor.”  

Condor is well prepared for this battle, but so is the Company.  For starters they’re all still invisible until someone attacks, and secondly many of them are sporting _protection from evil_ that hedges out the direct touch of summoned creatures.  As a result of this, one of the sixty-foot-tall elemental’s fists strikes the ground, and the other glances off of Yoba’s ward.  

There are three members of the party who can see Condor:  Morningstar with her _true seeing_ and Grey Wolf and Kibi with _see invisibility_ spells.  Aravis, with _greater arcane sight_, cannot see Condor’s body, but can figure out his location easily enough by the miasma of arcane auras that surround him.

The _wall of force_, while not blocking the beams of light from the Eyes and Mirrors, is faintly illuminated by it.   With the wall between him and Condor, Dranko decides the best way over it is by climbing the elemental’s body.  He’s half way up its back when Condor sinks into the ground.  

“_Xorn movement_” groans Kibi. “Of course.”  So saying,  he casts the same on himself.  

With Condor momentarily out of the picture, Yoba, Morningstar and Snokas concentrate on the elemental – Snokas and Yoba swing their weapons (with little effect) while Morningstar tosses a _fire seed_ (somewhat more effective).  Ernie readies a spell while Aravis takes a few seconds to check on the Eyes of Moirel.  The Eyes are still spinning in place, seemingly oblivious to, and so far unaffected by, the recent violence.  

The elemental notices that some small irritant is using its body as a ladder.  It plucks Dranko from its back and holds the half-orc firm in a stony grip.  At its feet, Grey Wolf’s _summoned_ wolves appear – a pack of speed-bumps, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.   The elemental swats at them with Dranko.  

Condor appears again, rising up from the ground and casting a spell.  Over the _Rary’s telepathic bond_ Grey Wolf serves as  spotter, and this triggers Ernie’s _flame strike_, dropped on Condor’s head.   The Sharshun wizard winces but maintains his concentration well enough to catch the entire Company in a _horrid wilting_.  Water is forced painfully from their bodies.  He follows this with a quickened _slow_ that only affects Flicker and Yoba.

“Just so you know,” says Grey Wolf, his voice pained,  “you just sucked the moisture out of one of your own kin.”

Condor continues to ignore him.  Kin?  Absurd.

Kibi casts _Evard’s Black Tentacles_ with Condor at its center, and one of the writhing black pseudopodia wraps the enemy up tight.   He follows it up with _coldfire._

“I know how you feel,” calls out Dranko.  

“Use the half-orc as a club!” Condor shouts to the elemental.  It’s good advice, as this will circumvent the hedging effects of _protection from evil._.  Dranko feels the wind pushed from his lungs as the rocky behemoth tightens its grip.

Aravis puts an incipient _dimension door_ on Pewter and sends his familiar scampering up toward Dranko in order to free him.  Morningstar casts the first of many _mass cure_ spells, restoring some vital fluids to herself and her friends, before quickening a _searing darkness_.  Worse yet for Condor is a _reciprocal gyre_ from Grey Wolf, which does damage commensurate with the number and strength of active spells on the target.  

Condor is heavily enchanted and so his scream of pain is certainly genuine.   He gulps, and vanishes, only to reappear on the far side of the circle.  He absorbs the pain of a readied _ice storm_ Dranko casts through a magic ring, and blasts the majority of the party with a _delayed blast sonic ball_.  Then he sinks into the ground again.

Kibi surfaces and uses a staff to cast _rainbow pattern_ around the earth elemental’s head.  Such beautiful, mesmerizing lights!  The elemental is transfixed, enchanted both literally and figuratively.  It drops Dranko and follows the lights as Kibi moves them off to the side, stepping idly over the _wall of force_ as it leaves.

Grey Wolf immediately dismisses his wolf pack, not wanting an attack to shake the elemental from its reverie.  Pewter sighs as his mission is made meaningless, and casts the _dimension door_ on himself to return to Aravis.   Morningstar casts a second mass curative, while the others ready for Condor’s return.

The malign wizard rises up from the ground  in a new part of the circle.  Ernie drops a _holy smite_ on his head, just before Aravis casts _maze_.  A second later Aravis finds himself _in_ the maze, and grumbling about the vicissitudes of _spell turning_.    

Condor gulps again, a strange and deliberate gesture that suggests something more than simple nerves, and then casts a second _horrid wilting_ that leaves Flicker and Kibi nearly dead, and many others badly injured.  Not a few members of the Company start to wonder if Condor might be out of their league, diminished though he might be.

(They might have been comforted to know that Condor was starting to wonder the opposite.   He knew that in a one-on-many fight, time favors the many, and not a single adversary had dropped from a pair of his most potent necromantic blasts.  But there was nothing for it but to battle on – what would be the point of fleeing?  His foes would vanish into the future, leaving him with the unacceptable status quo.  He needed time to cast the spells that would dislodge the Eyes from their current activities, and there would be no such opportunity while these strange heroes were alive. It was kill or be killed.) 

Kibi gasps desperately for healing before popping most of Condor’s remaining _mirror images_ (and using up the last vestiges of the _spell turning_) with a _magic missile_.   Then he quickens a _glitterdust_ upon Condor, whose invisible form (as well as his last remaining _mirror image_) is now coated with tiny glowing flecks.  

Dranko heals Kibi with a wand, while Yoba _lays on hands_, bringing the dwarf back from the brink.  

Morningstar blasts Condor with a _flame strike_, followed by a _searing darkness_.   _Shouldn’t a wizard be dead by now?_  On closer inspection, it’s evident that Condor has been healing himself throughout the battle.

“So,” calls Dranko.  “You sacrificed your daughter for this?  Was it worth it?”

Condor glares fiercely.  “You wish to talk?  Then surrender.”

“I would have expected you to have some backup from the Emperor,” continues Dranko.  “Oh, but wait!  He doesn’t trust you, does he?  Ha ha!”

Beside himself with rage and confusion, Condor snarls.  “Who are you, and what do you know of these things?”

“We have a relative of yours among us,” says Morningstar,  gesturing to Grey Wolf.

“I have no...”

“Through your daughter, you dinglebat!” says Grey Wolf.  “Haven’t you been listening?”

Condor, in all of his 61 years on Abernia, has never been called a ‘dinglebat’ or anything like it.  

“That’s not possible,” he spits.

“I’m afraid so... grand-dad,” says Grey Wolf with a smirk.

Kibi frowns.  Is gloating really worth giving away information that Condor wouldn’t otherwise know?  _I’m sure for Dranko it is..._

Grey Wolf pops the final _image_ with another flurry of _magic missiles_, and follows it up with a quickened _acid orb_ before speaking again.  

“If you had listened to me before, and called off your attack, you might have had a chance.”

“You lie!” Condor hisses.  “My daughter had no children!”

“Oh, but she did.  And now I’m here.  But it doesn’t matter, at least not to you.”

Ernie casts _heal_ on the nearly-dead Flicker while the others are engaged in their witty repartee.  “Now stop getting so injured!” he admonishes.  “Take care of yourself!”

Aravis reappears from his own _maze_, having easily found his way out.   He’s pleased with himself for about two seconds before coming to regret the timing – Condor blasts the entire party with an empowered _cone of cold_.  Amazingly no one is dead; their patchwork of healing spells, potions and wands is barely keeping everyone conscious.  Now, though, over half the Company is one spell away from death.  Yoba herself looks like you could kill her with strong language, and Snokas blinks like he’s not sure where he is.   Having cast his spell, Condor quickly steps behind the nearest Plinth, out of the line of sight of every member of the Company.

Dranko, healthiest of the party, wants nothing more that to charge over and get in Condor's face.  Since the direct path is blocked by Kibi’s _black tentacles_ he downs a _fly potion_ and flies.  As he nears the Plinth behind which he expects to see Condor, he encounters Condor's _repulsion_ field.  With a tremendous burst of concentration and will, he fights through it.   Behind the Plinth he sees Condor's glittering outline.

Kibi summons his own earth elemental, smaller than Condor’s but big enough.  It appears next to Condor’s rock and grabs the Earth Wizard, grappling..   Kibi then sinks back underground.

The rest of the Company keeps healing, trying to keep up with Condor’s prodigious damage-dealing.  Potions are consumed, wands used, and Morningstar casts her third mass cure.

To Dranko’s great frustration, Condor gulps again before casting a spell – _dimension door_ or _teleport_, presumably – and vanishing from the elemental’s grip.   Dranko flies straight up and looks around frantically.  There’s no sign of Condor’s glittering form – he could be hiding behind any of the Plinths.  Grey Wolf and Snokas both make a quick search but also come up empty.  Morningstar casts _heal_ on herself and murmurs thanks to Ell.

Condor knows that it’s almost over, one way or another.  He has run out of healing and cannot endure more than another spell or two, but the same, he thinks, is true of many of his enemies.  When he next emerges from the ground he will have to endure whatever his foes have ready and blast with his most potent remaining spell – an empowered _chain lightning_.    He has dispelled the _glitterdust_, but he knows that some of his foes can see him anyway.  He dares wait no longer.

_Kill or be killed_.

Condor appears and starts to cast.  Grey Wolf is too far to cast his _enervate_, but Aravis casts _reverse gravity_ almost concurrently with a _flame strike_ from Morningstar.  For the first time in memory Condor’s contact from the ground is forcibly severed.  His discomfiture at rising from the ground makes it impossible to dodge any of the _flame strike_, and the combined effect causes his _chain lightning_ to fizzle despite his superhuman ability to concentrate.   Condor falls upward, coming to a bobbing stop high above the ring of Mirrors. 

“He’s at the top,” confirms Grey Wolf.

Dranko leaps into the gravity shaft and hurtles upward, colliding with Condor at the apex.   They float there together, and though Dranko cannot see his opponent, he can feel the brush of Condor’s robe.   And then Dranko feels something else: the plink of iron filings from Grey Wolf’s _ironstorm_.  He grins wickedly, showing his tusks.  He knows what’s coming.

“You know what’s sad?” says Dranko.  “You lived a failure, and you’re going to die a failure.”

“There was no failure!” roars Condor.  “My experiment succeeded.  You are living proof!”

“That’s not what the Emperor would say,” says Dranko.  

“He will change his mind when I bring him your corpses, along with my Diamonds!”

Dranko glances downward, wondering when the blast is coming.  From his high vantage the light of the Plinths is astonishingly beautiful, a seven-pointed star of rainbow lights in the countryside’s wide and dark expanse. 

“You know, if you were a _real_ wizard, you could just fly away right now,” he says.

“Who _are_ you?” demands Condor.

Dranko’s grin grows wider.  “I’ve been waiting my whole life to say this:  ‘I’m your *worst nightmare!’”*.

That turns out to be quite true.

Aravis can’t see Condor well enough to target his spell, but he can see Dranko, and with the _ironstorm_ in place that’s all that matters.  He targets an _empowered chain lightning_ on his friend, and when the stroke enters the field of iron filings the entire area is filled with raging electricity.  Dranko twists, dodges, and avoids all harm.  

The same cannot be said of Condor.  His body explodes in a shower of rocks and gore, which, along with his magic items, rain down in a gruesome shower upon the Company below.  So comes to an end one of the greatest Earth Wizards ever born on Abernia.

The Eyes of Moirel continue to spin.

Flicker and Aravis quickly collect the magic items, and there’s a flurry of healing in case more danger comes.

Fourteen minutes after the Eyes started spinning, a voice sounds in their minds:  “Ernest.  It’s time.”

The Company crowds around Ernie, putting their hands on his shoulders.    Ernie closes his eyes and thinks fondly of Home, his proper place in space and time.  The _belt of stability_ becomes warm around his waist.

Condor’s Plinths start to blink in and out of existence.  As they did when they traveled backward in time the Company feels as if they are floating, though that is objectively untrue.

Time passes in unknowable ways.  The Company is detached from the universe as it rushes past them.   Toward the end of their journey there is a brief flash, and a snapshot vision of their own duplicates passing in the other direction.  Then there is soft oblivion; there are parts of the journey for which it is best to be unaware.


* *

Above them the sky is a cold and washed-out blue.  Beneath them is a thick bed of snow.  Before they can come to any realization of their journey’s end,  the sky and sun fade out together into a uniform white, and they hear a strange sound in the distance.  It is the rhythmic thumping of horse hooves.  Together they share a vision of a distant place:

_In Djaw, greatest of the Jewels of the Plains, a stable-boy named Four Honest Thoughts stands agog.   Before him is the stall of the warhorse Thunder, steed of the errant paladin One Certain Step.   It was almost six months ago that she trotted into the city, alone, released temporarily from service while her master journeyed underground.   Since that time it has fallen to Honest Thoughts to see to her feeding and comfort, against the day that One Certain Step would return.

“Feathers, come quickly!” he calls to his friend, a teenaged lass his own age who shares duties with him in the stables.  Two Orange Feathers runs over to see what’s the matter, and soon she too is standing slack-jawed.  The stall is empty.  Thunder has vanished, though she was there not moments ago, and it’s impossible that the mare could have walked out without them knowing.   But what has the two youngsters in awe is that the empty stall is glowing with a soft yellow radiance, a holy cloister strewn with straw.

On the wide slopes of Mount Celestia a holy knight in unstained armor stands facing a burgeoning sunrise.   His heart and mind are at peace, and no earthly care troubles his fair countenance.   Far below him a magnificent white horse gallops toward him through boundless fields of the greenest grass.  The sound of her thundering hooves comes clear to the ears of the knight, and a tear of joy shines bright in his eye, for soon, soon, he will be riding again._


----------



## el-remmen

Awesome.  I mean, truly.

Also, _reciprocal gyre_: Is that from a book or a homebrew?  If the former, which.  If the latter, would you mind posting it?

I must have or concoct my own. 

Thanks.


----------



## Kaodi

Holy Deja Vu! Another update!

I am glad to see you back, Sagiro, even if it is only for a while. You and PirateCat write and run my favourite story hours, and how awesome it is to get a number of updates after a long hiatus.


----------



## coyote6

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Also, _reciprocal gyre_: Is that from a book or a homebrew?  If the former, which.




It's a WotC spell; there's a version in the Spell Compendium, but I think the original was in Complete Arcane (and was nastier; 1d6 per spell _level_, where the SC version is 1d12 per spell).

Also, I just realized that I should steal One Certain Step's name (at least) for my Exalted game.


----------



## wedgeski

Wow.


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

That was great, Now I have to go back and re-read some of what I'd forgotten.  Why did I think Crankus was Moirel's daughter?  Thank you for the update.

GW


----------



## Tamlyn

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Dranko, healthiest of the party, wants nothing more that to charge over and get in *Naloric’s* face.  Since the direct path is blocked by Kibi’s _black tentacles_ he downs a _fly potion_ and flies.  As he nears the Plinth behind which he expects to see Condor, he encounters Naloric’s _repulsion_ field.  With a tremendous burst of concentration and will, he fights through it.   Behind the Plinth he sees *Naloric’s* glittering outline.




You had me seriously worried about the party here if the Emperor had shown up!

Thoroughly enjoyed the updates!


----------



## Sagiro

Oops!  Yeah, it looks like I accidentally substituted "Naloric" for "Condor" a few times in that paragraph.  Fixed.


----------



## Miln

Thank You.


----------



## wedgeski

Sagiro said:
			
		

> Oops!  Yeah, it looks like I accidentally substituted "Naloric" for "Condor" a few times in that paragraph.  Fixed.



lol! I read that and thought, hang on, what have I forgotten about the plot here? Turns out, loads, but not that.


----------



## scrubkai

I've been lurking around this thread a long time... But the last couple updates made it just impossible not to post.
WOW...  That is the best written fight I've read in a long time.
It was well worth the build up that's been happening for what feels like years.
All I can say is thank you so much for making my life just that much more enjoyable over the years.


----------



## Everett

Good stuff.  but... I didn't understand two things...

a)  How did Condor find them?  

b) When/where did we learn that he's an ancestor of Grey Wolf's?


----------



## el-remmen

Everett said:
			
		

> Good stuff.  but... I didn't understand two things...
> 
> a)  How did Condor find them?




I can answer this one (I think).

He didn't _find _them.  He knew they would be coming there because of the prophecy he purchased with a cousin.   Poor cousin.


----------



## Everett

Was that revealed in an earlier Story Hour?


----------



## el-remmen

Everett said:
			
		

> Was that revealed in an earlier Story Hour?




Yeah, the second most recent one:



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> He gave his gift of gold, and his gift of blood, and his gift of kin (a distant cousin, unlikely to be missed). Tizha pronounced his fate.
> 
> "Your daughter is lost, but your legacy returns, and your Diamonds also. One chance remains to you, in the half-moon light of Grenke's heavenly journey. Muster what power remains to you, and take truth and gems from disjoint interlopers. Should you survive – a thing by no means certain -- and present your proof, the Emperor will see you again with favor."
> 
> Some months later Tizha's prophetic words came to fruition. Condor waited on each night of the half-moon, heavily enchanted and watching with perfect perception from the secret safety of one of his Plinths. And the interlopers came, just as the Crone had foretold.


----------



## thatdarncat

Wow.

Thank you  Something to distract me from my interview in the morning. Awesome.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 275*_
*Of Historical Significance*

Snow is starting to soak into their clothes, and none of them care.   The air is fresh and clean, the sky is a blinding blue, and the sun shines down upon a world restored. 

Ernie makes a snow angel.

The Eyes of Moirel have shattered during their final journey, their powdery remains mixed irretrievably with the fluffy snow.  Ernie’s _belt of stability_ has turned a brittle gray, its power and magic consumed.  

All in the Company are eager to return home, but after so many magical journeys made under the weight of so much responsibility, they decide to walk back to Tal Hae.  It’s maybe eighty miles from the Mirrors of Semek to Tal Hae, and they can stop off at Dingman’s Ferry on the way.  Ernie is eager to introduce Yoba to his parents.  

Morningstar issues an apprehensive _sending_ to Eddings before they set out; is he alive?  Does he exist?  What does he remember?

_Eddings, it’s Morningstar.  We’re back... we think!  Are you okay?”_

The answer comes back almost immediately:

_You’re alive!  You exist!  I’m so pleased to hear from you!  We thought that one of your many enemies had finally found a way to..._

Aravis frowns.  “Wasn’t he in the house with us when the world changed?”

“Yeah,” says Dranko.  “So maybe our Eddings is caught in a temporal loop, and this is a different Eddings.  I wonder if he remembers being in another world., and how long we’ve been gone.  It was October when the world changed.”

As they tromp across the snow-laden countryside, the party talks about what may have happened during their absence.  Dranko worries that Turlus may have found a way to take over the Greenhouse.   Of greater concern (to him) is that there will be no heroes’ welcome for the party, since no one will realize there had been any danger.   He comforts himself by looking forward to a reckoning with King Farazil.

“When we see him, I’m all for threatening him with _banishment_ after which we’ll follow him to the plane of shadow to kill him once and for all.”

“I don’t understand why we’d give him any warning,” says Grey Wolf.

They sleep that night in a _secure shelter_.  Morningstar _sends_ to Eddings again.

_ We are okay.  Long story.  Sharshun plot.  How long were we gone? How are Sagiro and Carp? We will be home in a few days._

Eddings replies:  _You’ve been gone for seven weeks.  Spire had determined you didn’t exist.  Haven’t seen Sagiro recently.  Who’s Carp?_

“I think that means the Greenhouse didn’t come back from the past,” says Dranko.  “It just reintegrated into the current time line.”

At Ernie’s urging, Morningstar casts one more _sending_, this one to Sagiro.  There is no reply.


* *

In the morning Morningstar casts _commune_.  Though her questions are few, there is only one that she needs answered.

“Is Ell okay?”

*YES.  THANK YOU.*

“Do you know where we’ve been?”

*YES.*

That’s really all she wants to know, but she asks one more question for Ernie’s sake.

“If Yoba stays here, will it have an adverse effect on her and her people?”

*YES*

“Thank you so much.”

*YOU’VE HAD A LONG JOURNEY.  WELCOME BACK.*

She shares the news with Ernie.  “I’m sorry, Ernest.”

But Yoba and Ernie aren’t surprised.  In her own land Yoba is a key military strategist in an ongoing campaign – it’s inevitable that her own folk will be better off when she returns.

“I ought to find someone to _plane shift_ me back,” she says.

“I’ll do it,” says Ernie.

Yoba’s face brightens.   “Then you’ll be coming with me, at least for a little while.  I can show you Evergreen!”

“I’d like that very much!” says Ernie.

Dranko clears his throat.  “If the two of you don’t get married, I’m going to beat the snot out of you both.”

Yoba starts to protest, but Dranko cuts her off.

“I am well aware that you have a cause, and that Ernest has one here as well, but if you let a small matter of inter-planar borders hold the two of you apart, I’m going to be _really_ disappointed.

“But...” says Ernie. 

_”And that’s my piece!”_ roars Dranko, who immediately turns and walks away.

“He cares a lot about you, doesn’t he?” says Yoba, smiling.   “Ernie, I have to go back, but he’s essentially right.  We can see each other from time to time – and talk via _sendings_ --  until one of our situations changes.”

There are many ways to say ‘I love you’ in twenty-five words or less.


* *

It’s a warmer day than yesterday, making the snow slick and exposing swathes of mud.   Grey Wolf summons up horses for all the Company to ride.   They make sparse and idle conversation throughout the day, preferring to quietly enjoy the return to normalcy.  But as the sun starts to set, Ernie beings to recognize landmarks at the outskirts of Dingman’s Ferry.  He starts to babble excitedly to Yoba.

“That’s the fence we would follow when the snows were heavy... we could follow it from the farthest orchard into the center of town following the bits of the posts sticking up.  And there’s the Longfield’s  farm, where we used to play tag in his cornfields until he’d come out waving his pitchfork.”

Dranko laughs.  “And that’s the tree I fell asleep under listening to Ernie’s boring lectures about his homeland.”

Soon they arrive at the doorstep of Ernie’s childhood home.  His mother, Rowan Roundhill, opens the door.

“Ernest!” she exclaims happily.

“Hi Mom!  I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by.”

“You know you’re always welcome, you and your friends.  I know everyone here I think...”  

She looks up at the faces of the assembled heroes, but stops when her eyes settle on Yoba.

“I’d like you to meet Yoba Stoutheart,” says Ernie, unable to mitigate his grin in the slightest.  “She’s a paladin.  We met her on our recent travels.”

Behind Ernie’s mom, his dad Hob is looking back and forth between Yoba and Ernie, a look of incredulous approval on his face.   It’s clear what he’s thinking:  Ernie’s ship has finally come in.

“Come in everyone!” says Rowan, getting hold of herself.  “You must be hungry!”

The non-halflings have to duck to get through the door, and crouch a bit inside, but soon all are seated and enjoying an incredible feast.  It seems that ever since Rowan learned that her son was part of an itinerant adventuring group, she made sure to always keep an extra store of food in the cupboards and pantries for just this sort of occasion.  

They talk some about their adventure, but Ernie is highly reluctant to explain the details, believing that his parents won’t understand the ins and outs of time travel and alternate histories.   He nudges the conversation toward lighter topics, like Dranko and Morningstar having gotten married while they were on the road.   Rowan and Hob, on more familiar ground, press for details.

“We’ve both changed our last name to “Brightshield,” says Dranko, beaming at his wife.  “Which reminds me: we should change the name of Castle Blackhope to Castle Brightshield.”

“You mean Longtooth Keep?” asks Flicker.

“Yeah.  Castle Blackhope.  That’s the one,” answers Dranko.  “And if someone has taken it over, we can wait for them to fix it up and _then_ take it back.  By force, if necessary.  It’ll be cheaper than fixing it up ourselves.”

“Isn’t siege warfare expensive?” asks Flicker.

“Not the way these two do it!” says Dranko, gesturing to Aravis and Grey Wolf.  

“But they way they do it,” says Flicker, “you’ll just have to fix it all over again!”


* *


As they finish up dessert – home-baked pies cooked by Rowan – Dranko asks idly about the Wilburforce Statue.

“They finished excavating it,” says Rowan.  “They want to start a museum, since it’s clearly of historic import.  But the problem is, they can’t find anything else to put in it.”  

She chuckles before continuing.  “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I won’t be sad to see the museum fail.  You remember Murgy Thorn?  Technically the statue was on his property, so he owns it, and the museum is his idea.  He’s not as unpleasant as he used to be, but he’s still a schemer.  I don’t like that he owns a statue that’s clearly of someone from our family.”

Dranko rubs his hands together.  “Come on, gang.  Let’s take a little trip over to Murgy’s tavern.”  Only Yoba and Ernie stay behind, happy to stay and chat with the parents.

It’s not a long walk.  Most of the Company sit at a long table and start drinking, but Dranko, having used his _robe of blending_ to make himself look somewhat impoverished, stands at the door.  Grey Wolf and Aravis stand behind him, as intimidating a pair of bodyguards as one could ever fear to meet.

Eventually an officious halfling comes bustling over.

“I am looking for Murgy Thorn,” says Dranko.

“Who, may I ask, is calling for him?” asks the halfling.

“I am Sir Dranko.”

“Does he know you?”

“Indeed he does.”

The halfling disappears into a back room, then returns a minute later.

“Mr. Thorn is indisposed.  Can you come back tomorrow?”

“No,” says Dranko.

“We have to speak with him _now!_” barks Aravis.

The halfling looks up into human eyes reflecting endless stars.

“Oh.  That’s different.  One moment!”  The halfling again dashes off.

Dranko chuckles as he listens to the raised voices coming from the back room.  Soon enough Murgy Thorn emerges, the same cantankerous, middle-aged halfling they remember.

“Been a long time, Murgy,” says Dranko.

“Yes, yes it has,” says Murgy, casting a nervous glance at Grey Wolf and Aravis.

“I think you’ll want to have this conversation in private,” Dranko suggests.

“Er... I think it’s better out here,” says Murgy.  “You know... lots of people, no one would try anything...”

“If you don’t mind everyone hearing your business, sure!” says Dranko.

“These people know my business,” says Murgy, gaining some confidence.  “I’m a respectable man of the town, and I have nothing to hide.”

“Fine,” says Dranko.  “I understand you plan to start a museum, based around the statue that you have in your basement.”

“Have you come to make any donations or investments?” asks Murgy.

“In a sense.  The way I see it, you seem like a fellow more interested in a good profit and comfortable living, than necessarily in showcasing the culture of your people.  Is that a fair statement?”

Murgy thinks for a moment.

“No.  I want to do both.”

“I have learned a little bit about museums in my travels,” continues Dranko.  “They almost never make any money, and they take great time and expense to build.  I wish to offer you an alternative.  Instead of you going into debt, I wish to give you a flat amount of money right now, for the statue.  Instead of a centerpiece for your museum, you will have a large amount of cash.”

Murgy blinks.  “You’re right,” he says.  “We should be having this conversation in private.  Let’s discuss terms.”

Once they’re seated in the back room, Dranko keeps on with his pitch.

“You will notice that, despite the fact that we are Knights of the Realm, and own a keep and several mansions given us by the king, we have no intention of simply seizing the statue.”

“Oh, I know you wouldn’t do that,” says Murgy.  “You’re friends of Ernest Roundhill.  He wouldn’t have made friends with those who would steal.”

To their great credit, neither Grey Wolf nor Aravis actually laugh out loud at this.

“What do you think is a fair price for the statue?” asks Dranko.

“Well,” says Murgy, “you understand its age has been estimated at hundreds of years old.  It is an exquisite piece of stonework, the likes of which cannot be found for miles around.  It bears an uncanny resemblance to the greatest hero of our city, the aforementioned Ernest Roundhill.  I would say it’s extraordinarily valuable.”

He thinks for a moment, and what he’s clearly thinking is:  _how high can I go without being preposterous?_

“I would think...  I would think a thousand pieces of gold.  If I were to commission it today, it would cost nearly that much, even not regarding its historical value.”

Dranko smiles indulgently.  “I was thinking of more like that number with a zero removed.”

“A hundred gold!” exclaims Murgy.  “Surely you must be joking.  For a hundred gold pieces I couldn’t even attain a cheap version of the statue....”

The haggling begins, and ends a few minutes later with Murgy accepting an offer of 500 gold pieces, and an agreement that his own name will appear on a plaque to be set on its base.   It’s a princely sum for Murgy, and he’s obviously pleased with himself.   Dranko pulls out a sack of coins and counts out the gold and platinum right there on Murgy’s desk.  The halfling’s jaw drops at the thought of anyone carrying that much cash around with them.  He hands over a signed deed of ownership.


* *


The following morning brings the discovery that the restoration of the proper timeline has come with one poor side-effect.  The itchy rash that had been intermittently plaguing most of the Company has returned for Morningstar and Aravis.  Yoba uses her powers to eradicate the symptoms, but from experience they expect it will return tomorrow.  

“I guess we still have rabid crazy dragon-itis,” Morningstar sighs.  

“Hey Ernie,” says Dranko.  “I think there’s something you should see in the town square.”

Ernie looks apprehensive, but Dranko reveals nothing more.  They walk through town until they reach the center of Dingman’s Ferry.

The Wilburforce Statue, at Dranko’s request, is already being set onto a base.  Eight industrious halflings are working on the construction and even laying a small garden around it.  

“_What did you do?"_ shouts Ernie.  “And when will Murgy be able to walk again?”

Dranko just smiles.  

“The benches were my idea,” says Morningstar, grinning at Ernie’s slack-jawed stare.

Yoba leans in to whisper in Ernie’s ear.  “Are you going to tell anyone it’s not actually you?”

When Ernie doesn’t answer, Yoba adds:  “I won’t tell until you do.”

“Hey Kibi,” says Dranko.  “Remember how you carved something on the bottom of the foot of the statue back in the past?  You should see if it’s still there!”

Kibi _xorn moves_ into the ground, and pops up a moment later.

“The inscription is still there, just like I wrote it!” he says happily.

“That’s so _neat!_ exclaims Dranko.

Kibi smirks.  “You don’t know what I wrote.”

Dranko pales.  “Kibi, I trust that you would never do anything to cast one of your friends in an unfavorable light.”

“Just like Ernie would never have a friend who steals?” asks Kibi, eyebrows raised.

“Ah, crap,” says Dranko.

...to be continued...


----------



## Pat

Sagiro said:
			
		

> There are many ways to say ‘I love you’ in twenty-five words or less.



After a haiku
on a love that spans the planes,
how many remain?


----------



## Fimmtiu

I think these are my favourite parts of Story Hours, in general... the quiet interludes of rest and relief after long and dangerous adventures, where you get a glimpse of who the heroes are when they're not busy being heroes. (Particularly long, in this case!)


----------



## Everett

Sagiro said:
			
		

> _*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 275*_
> *Of Historical Significance*
> 
> _”And that’s my piece!”_ roars Dranko, who immediately turns and walks away.




LOL.  Well done.


----------



## Piratecat

Wow, I had totally forgotten about this. That's great.

We just played Sagiro's game this evening -- AND last Monday as well. We're 17th level. There have been deaths and betrayals and surprises. And the game remains an utter delight.

But man, we still have some _really_ embarrassing combats. It was nice to read the fight at the plinths, back when we had our tactics nicely polished for a change.


----------



## blargney the second

Updates to this story hour make me do a happy dance like the carol-loving kids from Love Actually. 
-blarg


----------



## LightPhoenix

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Wow, I had totally forgotten about this. That's great.
> 
> We just played Sagiro's game this evening -- AND last Monday as well. We're 17th level. There have been deaths and betrayals and surprises. And the game remains an utter delight.
> 
> But man, we still have some _really_ embarrassing combats. It was nice to read the fight at the plinths, back when we had our tactics nicely polished for a change.




That's what happens when you take a break...  

I didn't even realize there were posts, and had three posts to read.

Glad to hear things are going well Sagiro!


----------



## Joshua Randall

Dang, about six months ago I had this elaborate theory worked out regarding the itchy rash, but I never posted it, and now I've forgotten all my brilliant insights.

= = =

In other news, I suspect the party hasn't seen the last of Naloric and the Sharshun. Villains that good aren't so easily circumvented.


----------



## Oversight

Well it's been done hundreds of times before but I just wanted to add to the accolades.  I don't think that I've ever posted here before, but I have lurked for years.  A long time ago I read Sagiro's story hour and, as everyone here likely agrees, found it absolutely fantastic.  Two weeks ago I came across it again and started reading the compiled pdf's and now here I am at the end.  

At the risk of being redundant let me just say that Sagirio you are the kind of GM that players dream about and your players are the kind that GM's dream about.  I look forward hearing more about Abernathy's Company.  Back to my lurkdom I go.


----------



## Sagiro

*Oversight*, I'm honored that you'd blow your first post on my Story Hour, and I appreciate the compliments.  And you're at least half-right -- I do have awesome players.   

The following run is definitely one of my five favorites in all the time we've been playing.  (And in case you're wondering, I've run 208 sessions of the campaign as of today)  I think you readers will understand why.

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 276*_
*Contents May Have Shifted During Flight*

The Company makes only one additional stop on their way to Tal Hae.  Having purchased flowers in Dingman’s Ferry, they take a small detour to the nearby dwarvish tombs discovered so long ago.  Because they are accessible only by a small crack in the back of a cave, Ernie doffs his armor and crawls inside with the flowers, leaving them at them at the foot of Hurthin Hammersmith, recently visited in the distant past.  He murmurs a prayer for those who have died a long way from home.

The sun is setting once again when the Company reaches the outskirts of Tal Hae.

“You can smell the fish from here,” comments Dranko.  “But I’m more looking forward to checking in with the church.”

Morningstar winces, imagining how awkward it’s going to be, sharing her newfound knowledge of how the Church of Ell _used_ to operate...  

They ride up to the gates of Tal Hae in full Knights of the Spire Guard regalia.

“We’re Ernest Roundhill and Company, Knights of the Realm!” announces Dranko.  Yoba beams, though she also looks puzzled as she examines the walls.

“Interesting choice,” she says.  “The wall is made out of wood?”

“It’s a long story,” says Ernie.

“Welcome back to the city,” says one of the soldiers manning the gate.  It's clear he recognizes the Company.

“Any news?” asks Dranko.

“Things have been quiet since the war, thank the Gods.”

Ernie spreads some coins among the guards.  “Get yourself something warm to drink,” he tells them.  He’s thinking of hot cocoa, personally, though the guards probably have different ideas.

They make no detours on the way back to the Greenhouse.  Dranko pulls out his Greenhouse Key, and finds that, oddly, there are _two_ keys on his keychain.  One opens the door to the Greenhouse, but he’s never seen the second one before.

“Flicker?”

“Don’t look at me!”

“I think it’s a time key,” says Dranko.  “I guess when time changed, it gave me an extra key.”

They open the door, and Eddings greets them with a smile of intense relief.   He’s already in pajamas, and the cats Argol and Smeggy, looking particularly well-fed, weave excitedly around his feet.  

“Thank the Gods you’re alive!” says the old butler.  

“How long have we been gone?” asks Aravis.

“Didn’t I say in the _sending?_” says Eddings.  “Seven weeks give or take a day or two.”

“And when was the last time you saw us?” asks Dranko.

“When you all went down in the basement.  You had some important thing to do.  I went to check on you a few hours later, and you were gone.”

“Do you know what Eyes of Moirel are?” asks Morningstar.

Eddings looks a bit peeved at the question.  “Yes, of course I do.”  He extends a finger into one of his illusionary eyes to make the point.

“It’s not as stupid a question as it sounds,” says Morningstar.  “You see, when we vanished, you came with us.”

“Err... to where, exactly?” asks Eddings.

Ernie looks up from the cats before Morningstar can answer.  “Eddings, I want you to meet our friend Yoba!  She has to go back home soon, but I wanted her to see where we live.”

“Charmed,” says Eddings, bowing.

“Say, where’s Skorg?” asks Dranko.

“He’s... traveling.  I don’t know exactly where.  Once we got word that you... had been annihilated, he decided to explore more of the kingdom.”

“Annihilated?” asks Aravis.

“I thought you said we went into the basement and disappeared,” says Dranko.  “We teleport around all the time.  Why would you think we were annihilated?”

“Ozilinsh confided in me,” says Eddings.  “The Spire... they cast some divinations, and discerned that you didn’t exist.    I told Ozilinsh you were back after I received your _sendings_.  He warned me to be suspicious, but I knew it was you.”

“Oh, and Morningstar and I got married,” adds Dranko.

“Right,” says Eddings.  “You were annihilated, and the two of you became married.  Of course.”

“Well, we were gone for the better part of a year,” explains Dranko.

“Nooooo,” says Eddings slowly.  “You were gone seven weeks.  Like I’ve already told you twice now.”

At this point it’s easier to just tell Eddings everything, and so they do.  It’s hard for him to get his head around it all, especially the part where he went with the party to the past.  They also tell the sad part about losing Kay, and that they don’t know where she’s gone.  Eddings is confident that she’ll be back someday.  

When they get to the bit about possible small changes to history as they know it, Eddings scratches his beard thoughtfully. 

“That...that explains it,” says the butler.  “I don’t want to say anything else.  Just go visit Turlus’s shop tomorrow morning.  I don’t want to say anything else.   Dranko, you’ll need to... just go.”

Dranko is intrigued, but doesn’t push it.   “Does it have anything to do with why I have a second key on my key ring?”

“I don’t know anything about that,” says Eddings.  “But that does remind me of something else.  There’s a gentleman who has called upon you while you were gone, Dranko.  I swear I’ve never met him before in my life, but he’s been here three times.   He wouldn’t tell me his name.  I flashed a light on him in case he was Farazil, but he merely told me to stop.   He’s tall, with a neat goatee, and handsome.  Very polite.  Well dressed.  I don’t think he liked me very much.  He thought I should recognize him.  The last time he visited, he asked me to tell Dranko that ‘we miss him at the Manse.’  I answered:  ‘And you are...?’  He said  ‘Very funny... just tell him.’  And then he left.  That was about three weeks ago, and I haven’t seen him since.

The Company then calls upon Ozilinsh using the crystal ball in the secret room.  Ozilinsh is wide-eyed and overjoyed to see them.

“You exist!” he shouts.

“Remember how we had three enemy power groups?” says Dranko.  “The Sharshun, and the Black Circle, and Naradawk?  We stopped two of them.  But the third one?  The Sharshun?  They won.”

“What?” says Ozilinsh, alarmed.  “When?  How?  And... why don’t you seem worried?

They spend the next hour giving Ozilinsh a huge info dump of their entire adventure.  Ozilinsh listens with rapt attention.   When the narrative is over, he says in a hushed voice: “Do you realize the implications on temporal mechanics?  Think of the paper we could write!  But regardless, I’ll tell the Spire all about your journey.   They’ll be overjoyed to know that you’re back and alive.  High Priest Cornwall _communed_ with Pikon when you had been gone for two weeks, and he learned that you didn’t even exist.  We figured one of your many enemies had finally figured out how to do you in.  Some of us held out hope that something odd was going on; I’m glad that our faith has been rewarded.”  

Besides the apparent reality of time travel, the part of the tale Ozilinsh finds most intriguing is their visit with Cranchus.

“We’ve always wanted to know what he looks like,” he says.

“He looks like a cross between me and an earth elemental,” says Kibi.

“He’s very smart – he has very good ideas,” adds Ozilinsh.  “But he’s always been mysterious, and not very communicative.”

“And he’s not actually Parthol,” Dranko admits grumpily.

“Just like I told you he wasn’t,” says Ozilinsh with a smile.

“He stays apart, because he’s afraid of what will happen to those around him,” adds Aravis.

“He’s expressed that sentiment to us before,” says Ozilinsh.  “He doesn’t even want us to know where he is.  We haven’t heard from him at all since the Battle of Verdshane – we can no longer cast the spells to speak with him, and he hasn’t made contact with us.”

Ozilinsh shares a few tidbits of information from the party’s missing seven weeks.  Wellington, Glade and Royce cleared out another Black Circle bestiary, this one in Forquelle.  The Delfirians have now entirely retreated back through the gartine arch at Seablade Point; a few stayed behind to cause trouble as highwaymen and bandits, but Jerzembeck, Junaya & Co. are cleaning them up.

“This sounds strange to say,” concludes Ozilinsh, “but right now, I have nothing for you to do.  You’re on your own for a while.  And now I really ought to go and inform the rest of the Spire that you have not, in fact, been obliterated from existence.”  

Exhausted, the Company goes to bed.


* *


The next morning it’s Grey Wolf, Dranko and Ernie who are suffering from the mystery rash.  Yoba cures them before breakfast.   All the Company are curious about Eddings’ cryptic comments about Turlus, so after eating Ernie’s now-daily Heroes’ Feast, they take a stroll down the Street of Bakers to visit ‘Fine Baked Goods.’

The inside of the bakery is no different than they remember; Turlus is a formidable baker, of a skill nearly equal to Ernie’s own.  There are a handful of customers who regard the decked-out party with understandable curiosity.  There’s no sign of Turlus, but there’s a woman behind the counter who is indisputably and stunningly gorgeous.   

Dranko stares at her.  She stares back at Dranko, her eyes wide.  Before she can speak, Dranko regains his composure and asks:  “Where might I find Turlus?”

“Who?” asks the woman.

“Turlus.”

“Dranko,” she says with a throaty chuckle.  “Come here.”  

Far be it for Dranko to deny this heavenly creature such a simple request.   Her voice is low and rich, as lovely as the rest of her.

“We need to talk for a moment,” she says, leaning in close to him.  Then she shoots a quick look over his shoulder and winks at Morningstar.

Morningstar blinks.

“May I...uh...may I introduce you to my wife?” says Dranko.  

“You got married?  How lovely!  I’m very happy for you.”

She gives Dranko a light peck on the cheek, then winks again at Morningstar.  Morningstar gives the woman a wan smile.

“Sooooo,” says Dranko, unsure how to proceed.  “What’s your name?”

“Excuse me?  What’s my name?”  

Then, leaning in so close that her lips graze his ear, she whispers, “I guess we’re playing that we’re strangers then?  I’m curious where this is going.”

With that, she straightens up, smoothes her apron, and in a clipped voice asks:  “So, what can I get for you today, sir?”

“Your name,” Dranko insists.

The woman smiles sweetly.  “Turlissa.  Now.  What can I get you?”

* >> At this point the entire table fell into helpless laughter for over a minute.*

“Turlissa, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

At this point the half-dozen or so patrons of the bakery have all stopped their shopping to observe this unusual exchange.  Dranko walks swiftly to the door, turns the sign to read “Closed,” and announces:  “Get them whatever they want, and I’ll pay for it!”

Soon enough the bakery is empty save for the Company and Turlissa.  Morningstar decides it would be prudent to pop off a silent, still _detect thoughts_, but finds that Turlissa is somehow warded against the spell.

“Dranko, may I speak with you in private?” she asks.

“I... I think we... er...”

“Dranko, you’re so cute when you’re at a loss for words.  Not that that happens very often.”

“Turlissa, how...  how, in 20 or 30 words, would you best describe our relationship?”

Turlissa looks pointedly at the rest of the Company.  “Our relationship?  You mean our... working relationship?”

“I mean our...uh... every aspect of our relationship?”  Dranko answers tentatively.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” asks Turlissa.

“Every aspect of our relationship!” Dranko decides.

“Do you really want to be talking about that in front of your friends?” she presses.

“Oh, my word,” mutters Grey Wolf.  

“Yes,” says Dranko.  “I trust these people absolutely.”

Morningstar bails him out.  “Dranko, would you like some time alone with her?”

“Sure!” says Dranko, lunging.  “That would be great.”

He nudges Pewter, who jumps up on his shoulder, but this does not go unnoticed by Turlissa. 

“Are you sure you want your wizard’s familiar listening in?”

“Oh... familiar?  No, no, of course not.  Let me shoo him out.”

He picks up Pewter and walks outside with the rest of the Company, at which point he gestures wildly for Morningstar to cast _Rary’s telepathic bond_ on him.   Morningstar does this, and also mentions that Turlissa was warded against her _detect thoughts_.  Yoba adds that Turlissa is not detecting as evil.

As Dranko reenters the shop Ernie comments mentally (and with a hint of disapproval):  “She’s very... friendly.”

“And she’s way, way hotter than the old Turlus!” observes Dranko.

“And she’s clearly into you,” adds Kibi, “which makes me think she’s not in her right mind.”

“Dranko,” says Turlissa, once the two are alone in the shop.  “You’re acting very strange.  What has happened to you these past few weeks?”

She motions to a door in the back of the shop, then disappears inside.  Dranko follows her, and after she closes the door to the back office, she swiftly grabs Dranko’s head and plants a long, deep kiss right on his lips.  Dranko carefully keeps his thoughts to himself.

He breaks off the kiss before it gets _too_ intense, steps backwards, and says, “I’ve been gone for seven weeks.”

“Yes, I know,” says Turlissa.

“Yes,” agrees Dranko.  “Right.  Yes.  That’s correct.  And in that time, uh... I... it would be useful for you to give me a full description of what’s been going on.”

She whispers, “Didn’t you tell Lucas where you were going?”

“Lucas...”

“You are playing with me, Dranko, and I don’t appreciate it.”

Dranko improvises wildly.  “Do you think it’s appropriate that I tell everyone my business?  No.  So why would I have told Lucas where I was going?”

“Dranko... who did you _expect_ would take over in your absence?”

Hm.  Good question!

“Um... Turlissa, how loyal are you to me?”

“How can you even ask that?” she shoots back.  She’s clearly growing tired of the games.

“Let us assume, if that is true, that I have come back from my trip without a clear memory of  some of the things from my past.”

A light goes on in Turlissa’s head.  “How do I know it’s really you?”

Dranko belches.

“I’ll need more than that.  Do you expect me to believe that you have no memory, and that now I should start coughing up secrets?”  

“I see your point,” concedes Dranko.  “What would prove it to you, Turlissa?”

The lovely baker thinks for a moment before answering.  “A year ago you saved someone’s life in a smuggling ring operation.  Who was it?”

Over the telepathic bond, Dranko asks the others if he should level with her about the whole ‘changes in the universe’ thing.  The answer is a unanimous ‘NO!’

When Dranko doesn’t answer, Turlissa says flatly, “I think this interview is at an end.”

“I saved your life,” guesses Dranko, but his guess comes too late, and is seemingly wrong as well.  Turlissa walks to the door and opens it.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” she says.  “I don’t know who you are, or who you’re working for, or what you think you’re doing, but... get out of my shop.”

Dranko laughs.  “This is funny for reasons you don’t understand.  And I appreciate that you’re confused.”

“I’m not confused,” says Turlissa, thunder forming on her brow.  “You’re attempting to impersonate Dranko, and you’re doing a terrible job of it.   You’ve done some research...”  She points to his cigar.  “...but not nearly enough.  Out!”

“If I was going to go through all of the trouble to research, don’t you think I would have filled in all the cracks?” asks Dranko.

“You just figured I’d believe the utterly convincing personal appearance and... and crude mannerisms.    But no.  Please leave.”

“What would the hard way be?” asks Dranko.

“The hard way is, I summon the city guard and they throw you in jail.”

“That’s not going to happen,” says Dranko.  

“True... because I’m giving you the opportunity to leave now.  But... given that I’m going to report this to my superiors...”

“Which superiors?” Dranko can’t help asking.

Turlissa decides that the conversation is at an end.  She walks out of the shop, leaving him behind.  Dranko hustles out after her.  The Company has wisely moved off to a different block, but Dranko scrambles up to the rooftops, curious as to where Turlissa is really going.

It turns out that she’s really going to get some town guards.  She finds a pair only two blocks away and leads them back to Fine Baked Goods, at which point Dranko decides to make himself scarce.  Grey Wolf comments over the mind-link:  “Time has changed in a very interesting and bad way for you.”

“What could we possibly have done,” Dranko wonders out loud when reunited with the others, “to make Turlus turn into... into smoking hot Turlissa?!”

This sets off a wave of laughter; Flicker nearly busts a gut.  “Dranko, you could say ‘smoking hot Turlissa’ a million times before I die, and it’ll be funny every time.”

...to be continued...


----------



## EroGaki

Wow!! A few weeks ago, I started reading the storyhour view the pdf's, and I just caught up. This is an amazing campaign! Great job to Sagiro and all he players! I'm looking forward to the next update.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Ah, Turlissa.  Sagiro is right to call this one of his favorite moments.  DMs live for the look that was on all of our faces at that moment.  And it only gets better...


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 277*_
*The Power of Perspective*

“She’s clearly intelligent,” says Dranko, rubbing his temples.   Ye Gods... Turlissa?  It’s going to take some getting used to.

“She has a legitimate front,” says Grey Wolf, “but she’s involved with you in something shadier, no doubt.”

“And your extra key is probably to your hideout,” adds Kibi.

“A hideout that I’m in charge of,” says Dranko.  “But this Lucas guy has taken over in my stead.”

The party ponders this change is history – that Dranko may rule his own criminal organization.  Ernie looks around to see if he’s spontaneously acquired a five-star restaurant.  Aravis looks for his mages’ academy.  

“I’m afraid to go to my temple,” says Morningstar with a nervous laugh.

“You might be running it,” says Grey Wolf.

Ernie suggests that Dranko might get some insight into the recent changes from his old landlady, Berthel.  It’s not far to his old house, so Dranko takes the thieves' highway, stopping only for the traditional bottle of wine.  Soon he is knocking on Berthel’s window from out on the wall.

“Dranko?  That you?” comes Berthel’s screechy, abrasive voice.  “What you doing out there?”

He slips in the window.

“You being followed?” asks Berthel.  “And if not, why didn’t you use the door?”

“Boring!” is Dranko’s reply.  He hands Berthel the wine, then sits in a chair in the landlady’s small apartment.  

“I need info,” says Dranko.  “What do you know about my reputation in the city?”

“You’ve always been kind of cagey about that,” says Berthel.  “You’re a priest, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m a priest.  Say, there was a parade, right?”  

Dranko is suddenly terrified of the thought that his big victory celebration never happened.  

“Oh, yeah,” says Berthel.  “A couple of months ago I think.  I didn’t go to it.”

“You didn’t go to a parade for _me?_” accuses Dranko.

“That was for you?  Should have told me!  But why would they have a parade for you?”

Dranko sighs.  “Look, is there anything else you know about me?”

“I think you know everything I know about you.  And yet you’re an incredibly generous person underneath all of that.  You’ve made a family very happy, when you let them have your old place with the rent paid up forever. I’ve even fixed the roof.”

Dranko stands and stretches.  “Look, next time there’s a parade for me, will you come to it?”

“If you send me a letter or something, sure!” says Berthel.

“Oh,” adds Dranko.  “Also I’m royalty.  They made me a knight.”

“Really.”

“And I got married!”

Berthel laughs.  “Is this ‘make up stories about yourself’ day, and no one told me?”

“No, really.  I did get knighted, and I did get married.  Look, I have a ring!”

Berthel looks at his hands.  “You have lots of rings,” she says.

“Yeah, but this ring lets me fall of high buildings, and this ring means I can control water, and this ring means I’m married.”

“Dranko, I believe you.  Congratulations.  So, who is it?”

“Morningstar,” says Dranko proudly.  

“The Ellish priestess?” Berthel raises her eyebrows.  “She agreed to marry you?  Did you cast a spell on her or something?

Dranko leaves by the window.


* *


A brief interview with Eddings after dinner confirms that while he didn’t actually travel with the Company, he also remembers the past the same way as they do.   He was just as surprised to find the change in Turlus.  

“She thinks that the two of us, and some guy named Lucas, are involved in some underground organization," says Dranko.

“Who’s Lucas?” asks Eddings.

“I think he’s probably that man who came to visit you while we were away,” says Dranko.

“Turlissa was flirting with Dranko, too,” adds Morningstar.

“Was she?  Harlot!”

“Eddings, I’ve really missed you,” says Ernie.

“This seems like a bigger change than Cranchus said would happen,” says Grey Wolf, lounging in the Greenhouse living room.

Aravis nods.  “He’s ended up with a key to manse owned by a secret organization of which he’s evidently the leader?  Yeah, I’d say that’s not small.”

Morningstar stands up and peers outside at the setting sun.  “I really need to check in with my temple,” she says.   



* *



She finds that her reception is the same as always; her sistren are cold, suspicious, but not overtly rude or hostile.   Her request to speak with the High Priestess Milanwy is quickly passed on, and soon she is praying in the small chapel beside her old superior.   Milanwy was never quite as bad as many others, if not exactly warm and friendly.

When the services end, the two of them retire to Milanwy’s office.  Morningstar realizes that navigating the dark corridor, while easy, is no longer so instinctive, so second-nature as it once was.  

“Welcome!” says Milanwy.  “Welcome back.”

Morningstar thinks the High Priestess is nervous, which makes sense considering the circumstances.

“I take it you’ve heard some strange things,” Morningstar says.

“That would be an accurate statement, yes,” says Milanwy.  “Have you come here straight away?”

“We arrived back yesterday,” says Morningstar.  “I’ve visited no other temple before this one.”

“Oh.”  Milanwy pauses, balancing decorum and curiosity.  “Are you here to tell me what happened?”

“You mean why I disappeared?”

“Yes, that, but also why...”

Milanwy pauses again, then plunges onward.  “We’ve _communed_ with Ell in your absence, and the answers have been vague, hard to decipher.  Perhaps we weren’t asking the right questions.  But... it sounded like you were not dead exactly, but rather that you existed and you didn’t exist.  It might be easier if you could just tell us what happened.   But did you...   did you exist 2000 years ago?”

Morningstar nods.  

“How is that possible?” asks Milanwy, awed.

“It’s a very long story,” sighs Morningstar.  

“Did you speak to Ell?” asks Milanwy.

“Yes,” says Morningstar simply.

Milanwy sinks back into her chair and looks up briefly at the ceiling.  “That I should live to see such times!”  She shakes her head a bit, as if overwhelmed by the thought.   “Can you just tell me what happened?”

“I’ve told you before about the Emperor,” says Morningstar.  “We stopped two plots to bring him back, but not the third.”  

“Then the Emperor has returned?”

“No.. I mean, he was, but... no.   It’s complicated.   We were in the Greenhouse, which was protected by Abernathy.  It was not affected when time changed and the Emperor...”.

“Time changed?” interrupts Milanwy.  “What does that mean?”

“It means the Emperor had never left.  It was like we had never defeated him.”

“And where was the temple when this happened?  Where was I?”

“You, and it, didn’t exist.  Ell was very, very weak.  It was... terrifying.”

“The Emperor had won,” says Milanwy, still unsure of what she’s hearing.  “How did that happen?”

“Another servant of the Emperor used some very old magical artifacts, and changed history so that the Emperor had never fled.”

“He changed history.  And in the new history, he was victorious.”  

“Yes.”

“Then how are we having this conversation?”

“The Company and I fixed it.”

“You changed history back to the way it should be,” says Milanwy nodding.  “And that’s what you were doing these last two months.  Fixing history.”

“It’s been more like a year for us, but yes.”

Morningstar describes Het Branoi as well as she can.  Milanwy can’t really understand the details, but Morningstar keeps it simple.  When she gets to the point about going 2000 years into the past,  Milanwy shakes her head.

“That is consistent with some of the answers we’ve gotten from our divinations.  I still don’t understand much of what you’re saying, but I’ll take your word for it.  But... while you were in the past you _communed_ with Ell?

“She was not well.   I think I may have been her only disciple.”

“And this was in the time when the Emperor had won.  Yes, I imagine he outlawed all other religions.   We’ll need to send a report to Rhiavonne... this will make things interesting.   I am the first person you’ve spoken to in the church?  Then you don’t know... about the Illuminated Sisters.  You see, Rhiavonne thought you were... out of the picture, so to speak.  She said that you had made a promise before your disappearance, that you would dissolve the Illuminated Sisters after the recent battle at Verdshane.”

“I promised I would do my best to make it so,” says Morningstar.  

“Well, she took your promise straight to Amber.  Rhiavonne has ordered the Illuminated Sisters to be disbanded.  That was about three weeks ago.”

“And?” prompts Morningstar.

“Amber is very clever,” says Milanwy.  “She’s stalling, calling on old laws from old books, involving church bureaucracy, which is at very least sending religious scholars scrambling.  You know my feelings on the Illuminated Sisters – neutral at best.  But the _communes_ we have done paint a slightly different picture.  I’m no longer so convinced that they _should_ be dissolved.  You’ve learned something, haven’t you?”

“I have,” says Morningstar.  

“Something that’s not going to make Rhiavonne very happy?”

“No.  But I have always wished that the Temple be whole.  I _never_ asked for this.”

“If it’s true that you have gone into the past and _communed_ with Ell, and asked questions that we in the present are not encouraged to ask, and you received from the Goddess clear answers... then that puts you in a very unique position.  There will be many priestesses who will back you up, if you use this opportunity to... write policy, if you take my meaning.”

Morningstar puts her head in her hands and lets out a long sigh.

“If that policy is reintegration – to make the church whole, as you say – I expect little disagreement,” continues Milanwy.  “Amber, perhaps.  But... you should think about what you want.  Because whatever that is, many priestesses from all factions will be behind you.  As you know, Ell wants us to find our own path, our own interpretation of her teachings.   She does not answer direct questions about her will.   We feel that this is still true, regardless of your return.”  

“And yet Ell was very straightforward in sending me to train in the light, to become who I am,” says Morningstar.  

“Yes, I know,” says Milanwy.  “And I find that interesting, that Ell speaks so clearly to you.  My personal opinion is that Ell is testing us.  She wants us to see how we resolve this crisis.  I expect She will be pleased however this turns out, but then, I am an optimist.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“What do you want the Church to do, Morningstar of Ell?  Think upon that.  I am certain, given your journey, you should be allowed time to reflect.  You need not decide right away.  And in my opinion, you should talk to Rhiavonne, and to Amber – you need not make any decisions alone.  Your sisters... will share their opinions with you one way or another.”

“Oh, I know that!” laughs Morningstar.  

“Yes.  You have not been treated fairly by our church, I admit, and I personally did not make things any easier for you.  For that I am sorry.  But times have changed, and Ell, I’m sure, now watches us with great curiosity.”

“When I spoke with Ell, I learned that She does not agree with everything the Illuminated Sisters would have,” admits Morningstar.  

“Are you... will you share your whole conversation with me?”  asks Milanwy, expectantly.

“Do you want to know?” asks Morningstar.

“Of course I want to know!” Milanwy exclaims.  “Most of the High Priestesses of the various temples around Charagan would be just as eager as I am.   And were you to write you a journal of your experiences, it would quickly become among the most renowned of our religious texts.”

Morningstar blinks.  “Oh,” she says quietly.

For a moment they simply regard each other, quietly, in the pitch dark of the office.

“I don’t envy you, Morningstar,” says Milanwy at last.  “Ell has given you a winding road.”

“It’s not what I would have chosen for myself,” says Morningstar.  

“And what _would_ you have chosen for yourself?” asks Milanwy, standing up.

Morningstar stands as well, before giving an answer about which she hardly needs to think.

“A simple life of prayer,” she says.


* *

Back in the Greenhouse, Morningstar throws herself onto a sofa.  

“Crap, crap, crap. Crap!”

Dranko, Ernie and Flicker have stayed up to find out how things went.

“Good news?” says Dranko.

“Crap!” Morningstar confirms.  She shares with them her full conversation with the High Priestess.  

“So you could be the architect of the future of your temple?” asks Dranko when she finishes.  “What’s wrong with that?”

“I’m not qualified!” Morningstar protests.

“The fact that you don’t feel worthy of the task, is a good indication that you are,” says Ernie.  

Dranko frowns.  “Does that mean I’m the wrong person for the job of being in charge of the Thieves’ Guild?”

“Yeah, probably,” says Flicker.

Dranko turns to his wife and becomes serious.  “This is your test from Ell,” he says.  “She’s asking you to choose from between the traditional teachings of the church, and what you learned from her directly in the past.  And if you follow your conscience, and do what you feel is right, everything is going to be okay.”

Morningstar smiles, reminded of why she married him.  

“And if you get a swollen head in the process, we’ll mock you,” adds Dranko.  “But I don’t think that will happen.”

...to be continued...


----------



## Abciximab

“Yeah, but this ring lets me fall of high buildings, and this ring means I can control water, and this ring means I’m married.”

Hmmm... You can only have 2 rings active at once, does that mean Dranko is not married when you need the other two?


----------



## Shmoo

So very, very happy to see this thread updating regularly again! It's basically the only reason I still come to this site.


----------



## Zog

Frequent updates, Frequent Updates!   Huzzah!


----------



## Everett

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “Of course I want to know!” Milanwy exclaims.  “Most of the High Priestesses of the various temples around Charagan would be just as eager as I am.   And were you to write you a journal of your experiences, it would quickly become among the most renowned of our religious texts.”
> 
> Morningstar blinks.  “Oh,” she says quietly.
> 
> For a moment they simply regard each other, quietly, in the pitch dark of the office.
> 
> “I don’t envy you, Morningstar,” says Milanwy at last.  “Ell has given you a winding road.”
> 
> “It’s not what I would have chosen for myself,” says Morningstar.
> 
> “And what _would_ you have chosen for yourself?” asks Milanwy, standing up.
> 
> Morningstar stands as well, before giving an answer about which she hardly needs to think.
> 
> “A simple life of prayer,” she says.




You know, Sagiro, you really ought to look at making your Story Hour over into a full-length novel.  I know people have suggested it half-jokingly on this thread in the past, but you should give it some serious consideration.


----------



## RangerWickett

So in 4th edition, you can't get married 'til 11th level? *grin*

Intriguing as always. My theory is [sblock]Turlissa is married to Dranko, and Lucas is their child. Seems too obvious, though.[/sblock]


----------



## el-remmen

Just want to add my voice to the many who express their joy at getting a bunch of updates in a row.

Thanks!


----------



## Sagiro

Everett said:
			
		

> You know, Sagiro, you really ought to look at making your Story Hour over into a full-length novel.  I know people have suggested it half-jokingly on this thread in the past, but you should give it some serious consideration.




I do appreciate the sentiment, and I _have_ considered it, but it's just not possible.  For one thing, with kids and work and chores and wanting to actually spend some time with my wife, I am left with something like 2-3 hours a night (and not every night) that gets divvied up among many hobbies.  I simply don't have the time.  For another thing, teasing out all of the WotC-owned stuff would be a nightmare.  For a third thing, I'm not convinced that a D&D campaign, however compelling, would translate well into a novel.  Now, there's probably a good book to be written that's _based_ on my campaign, but that would only add to the enormity of the undertaking.  

In short, when someone sends me a check in advance for about 2 million dollars, thus allowing me to retire and freeing up 40-50 hours a week of my time, I promise to get writing immediately!    

-Sagiro


----------



## el-remmen

The check's in the mail.


----------



## StevenAC

*Collected Story Hour update*

Lovely to see frequent updates again, Sagiro.  I can't wait to see what Turlissa has in store for poor Dranko... 

In celebration, I've added a new chapter to the Collected Story Hour page, bringing the story up to part-way through the latest update.  Part Two of The Adventures of Abernathy's Company now has a total of exactly (ye gods...) 400 pages.  Enjoy!


----------



## darkhall-nestor

Everett said:
			
		

> You know, Sagiro, you really ought to look at making your Story Hour over into a full-length novel.  I know people have suggested it half-jokingly on this thread in the past, but you should give it some serious consideration.




I agree 

I have suggested it before and will again .

he is a much better writer than many of the so called professionals out there


as an alternative  maybe Sagrio and piratecat could co author a novel and share the work load

not that they couldn't do a great job on their own


----------



## Sagiro

*StevenAC*, thank you so much for continuing your excellent series of PDF's.  I still use them regularly when planning my ongoing runs.   Speaking of which...

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 278*_
*It's Hard to Explain*

Dranko’s visit to his own temple is much less momentous; most of the clergy there never even knew he had been away.  He spends a pleasant afternoon with Harmon but learns nothing new about changes to his history.

Kibi casts _prying eyes_ to track Turlissa when she leaves her bakery that evening.   Their combined report is brief:  she left the shop, bought some produce at a stand in the marketplace, and went into a small tailor’s shop.  When one of the eyes followed her in, it didn’t see her anywhere inside.  She did not emerge for the duration of the spell.

That evening, at the Company’s invitation, Spence comes over for dinner.  Spence is their liaison among the town guard, the replacement for the late and lamented Marbury Tillerson who died in the Battle of Verdshane.   He’s a nice enough fellow, even if he’s never quite settled into the comfortable relationship that Marbury enjoyed.  

Tonight doesn’t help.   The Company invites him in for dinner, and after a minimum of pleasantries Dranko gets right to the point.  

“So,” he says, trying to be casual.  “What do you know about the thieves’ guild?”

Spence freezes for a second, reminding himself that these folks are Adventurers who by nature will ask awkward questions.  He finishes a bite of Ernie’s delightful stew before answering.

“You mean the Undermen, sir?  They... they both run and restrict crime in the city.   They have a certain latitude – kind of like you do.  There are certain of their operations we don’t interfere with.  They’re somewhat self-policing.   We still often investigate them, to keep things honest.  And I have no personal connection with them, yourself and Flicker excepted.”  

“Take a step back,” says Dranko.  “In what way are Flicker and I involved in the Undermen?”

“I don’t know the full extent, sir,” answers Spence.

“Tell you what,” prompts Dranko.  “Give me the rumors.”

Spence starts to sweat just a little.  “I don’t know that I should be talking about this, sir.”

“Oh, sure you should,” says Dranko, smiling. 

“All right,” says Spence.  “It is suspected, at least, that the two of you are members of fine standing in the Undermen.  There were rumors that you were involved in some sort of...altercation of succession, some time back?”  

Spence phrases this last comment deliberately as a question, as if he fears to assert something dangerous.  He cannot hide his nerves.

“You mean to say that the someone who once was the leader of the Undermen no longer is, and now I am?” asks Dranko, a bit eagerly.

“I can’t speak to rumors that you are thought to be leading the Undermen,” says Spence stiffly.  “I doubt that’s the case.  But you may have had a hand in the... change of positions involved.  Now, these are all entirely unfounded rumors, of course.”

“Of course!” Dranko agrees.  “And I’m sure there are rumors, unconnected to the truth, of the name associated with the leader of the Undermen.”

“I really wouldn’t know, sir,” says Spence weakly.  “I’m just a rank-and-file member of the town guard, and not privy to details like that.  I only hear the same rumors as everyone else.  I’ve already told you everything I know.  Well, there’s this:  the only name I’ve ever heard in conjunction with the upper ranks of the Undermen is ‘The Slipper.’

Morningstar decides it’s a good time to cast a silent, still _detect thoughts,_ and it appears Spence is telling the unvarnished truth.   Dranko continues to press him for details, but all this does is add to the guard’s discomfiture without revealing any new details.

“He’s never coming to diner again,” mutters Kibi under his breath.  And indeed, Spence can’t leave fast enough, not even staying for dessert.  But as it happens Dranko doesn’t need to wait long for some real answers.  Not ten minutes after Spence’s hasty departure there is a knock on the door.  It appears that the stranger Eddings spoke of has returned – a tall and handsome man stands in the street, hair and goatee neatly combed, sharply dressed in a gray and black.

He looks at Dranko, then peeks in the door at everyone else.  Yoba shakes her head:  not evil.   

“Come on in,” says Dranko.  

The man steps into the Greenhouse. 

“We need to talk,” says the man to Dranko.   “In private, I should think.”

Morningstar touches Dranko on the shoulder.  “Can I talk to you first?”

“Hello Morningstar,” says the man with a smile.

“Hey, we got married, you know?” says Dranko.

“You did?” asks the man, and his smile gets bigger.  “Well, it’s about time.  Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” says Morningstar demurely.

Yoba introduces herself while Dranko and Morningstar have a brief meeting in the kitchen, during which Morningstar casts a quick and silent _Rary’s telepathic bond_.

The gentleman solemnly shakes Yoba’s hand.  “A pleasure to meet you.  My name is Lucas.”  Turning to the rest of the Company, he nods politely and says, “It is nice to see _all_ of you again.  You’ve been missed.”

When Dranko comes back, Lucas says, “Now.  Should we go talk in the... private room?”

What now?  The secret room?  This guy Lucas knows about the secret room in the Greenhouse?!  Dranko is mortified; he waves generally for Lucas to go first, and the man does in fact head right up the stairs toward the secret door behind the bookcase.  

“I guess I trust the guy,” thinks Dranko over the mind-link.   The rest of the party can’t believe it.

At least, when Lucas reaches the door, he politely turns his back so that he can’t see exactly what Dranko does to open it.  Once inside they sit in chairs, and Dranko says, “Talk to me, Lucas.”

Lucas stares holes into him before answering.  “I thought we had come to an understanding, Dranko.  When you go off on one of your excursions, you _have_ to let me know.  It’s very difficult to explain your absence when I don’t know where you are!”

“I didn’t know where I was either,” says Dranko.  “And my absence was neither anticipated nor preventable.”

“You know the rumors, don’t you?” asks Lucas. 

“That I was dead?” answers Dranko.

“That, or worse.”

“What’s worse than dead?”

“Well,” says Lucas slowly.  “I know this will sound silly, but some of the rumors indicated that you weren’t just dead, but had never existed at all.”

“Ah.  Yes,” says Dranko knowingly.  “Yeah, that’s been going around.  But, hey, tell me about Turlissa!”

“What about her?” says Lucas.  “I’ll say this:  she doesn’t believe that you’re you.  And her instincts are good; I’d believe her, if you weren’t here in the Greenhouse.   And from her story, I don’t blame her.”

Dranko lets out a long breath, considering for a moment what direction this conversation should take.  “Ok, look.  It appears that we’ve been gone for seven weeks.  In fact, it’s been more like eight months.  Alright?”

“I’m listening,” says Lucas.

“I don’t know who you are,” says Dranko.

Lucas stares for a moment, thinking he’s missing the joke.  “Dranko, please.  Of course you know who I am.”

“Not only do I not know who you are, but when I left, I wasn’t involved with the Undermen at all.”

When Lucas looks at him like he’s gone mad, Dranko lets out another breath.  “Look, you’re familiar with the Battle of Verdshane, right?

Lucas nods.  “Of course I am.  You dropped all Guild business to go fight in it.”

“Except that I didn’t, because I wasn’t involved in the Guild,” says Dranko.

“You don’t remember, perhaps, but you were involved, I can assure you,” says Lucas.  This conversation is, at the very least, proving that Turlissa wasn’t exaggerating.

“Ok, fair enough,” says Dranko.  “So here’s what happened:  There were three plots to destroy Charagan and put the old evil Emperor in power.  We stopped two.  The third worked.  The Emperor managed to change things, change time, so that he was in charge.  We managed to change things back to the way they were before, but not exactly.  So, I got back from that little jaunt, and I discover that I’ve been involved with the Undermen, and I’ve got you as a friend.”

Lucas raises an eyebrow.  “Involved in?  That’s what you call it?”

“Well, am I in charge of the Undermen?” asks Dranko.

Lucas sighs.  “You... you’re testing me, aren’t you.  That’s what this is.”

“When I left, Turlissa was named ‘Turlus’ and was a pudgy, middle-aged man,” says Dranko.

Lucas leans forward, becoming just as annoyed as had Turlissa.  “What is the point of all this, Dranko?  Please.  This is bizarre even by your usual standards.”

“The point is this:  I’m not testing you, and I’m not lying.  Would this be easier if I just said I was hit in the head and don’t remember anything?”

“You don’t remember... but... how far back does your memory loss go?” asks Lucas.

“My memory is fine except for certain things:  specifically, everything to do with the Undermen and my involvement with them.”

Lucas shakes his head.  “Oh, for the love of the Gods...”

“I can pick stuff up on the fly, but anything you can do to help would be wonderful.”

Several times, Lucas opens his mouth as if to speak, but can’t quite figure out what to say.   He mulls the possibilities.   This could be an imposter, but someone capable of that level of deception  -- and capable of getting into the Greenhouse – would have come up with a better ruse.  Dranko could be insane.  He could really have lost his memories of the Undermen, perhaps at the hands of an enemy?  Dranko has antagonized plenty of people, goodness knows, during his strange extracurricular adventures.   Or, maybe this really is a test.  A bizarre, annoying and stupid test, of someone whose loyalty should be beyond any question...

“Dranko, whether you remember it or not, we’ve known each other a long time.”

“Ok,” says Dranko.  “When did we first meet?”

Lucas thinks for a second.  “We first met about three weeks before the Slipper tried to have you killed.”

“I was attacked by evil footwear?”

Lucas thinks to himself:  _no imposter could be this good_.

“Not _a_ slipper.  _The_ Slipper.  The assassin, the Slipper.  The one who... you really don’t remember this?  Can’t we take to you a temple and get your memory fixed?”

“Nope.  Not possible.  So.  When did the Slipper try to have me killed, and why?”

“That was about two years ago.  I’ll assume this is a test for the moment; it will make me feel better.”

“Fine,” says Dranko.

“Do you remember the name ‘The Oracle?’” asks Lucas.

“Yes!  That was me!”

“Good, good!” exclaims Lucas.  “You remember something after all!  Excellent.”

When Dranko simply looks at him expectantly, Lucas frowns and continues.  “Some years ago – and I don’t quite understand how this got started – you and your friends downstairs operated as a kind of adjunct strike team to the Guild.   The old leader knew he could count on you.  But then the Slipper...”

Dranko interrupts him with a derisive snort.

“You weren’t laughing at the time,” says Lucas seriously.  “You barely survived!  The Slipper was the leader of the Undermen, and a formidable assassin.   Unlike his predecessor, he didn’t approve of you – The Oracle – and your friends having the power and privileges that you did.  He tried to have you killed.  It was a mess – a mess that resulted in the Slipper being dead, as well as the man most likely to have succeeded him.  There was a power vacuum.”  

“Tell me I stepped in!”

“You stepped in.”

“Good for me!”

“Yes, it was.  And you’ve been running the Undermen for the two years since then.”

Over the mind link comes Morningstar’s distressed thoughts:  “No!  No, no, no, no, no, no, no!”

She turns to the rest of the party (to whom she is relaying Dranko’s conversation), a look on her face even more aggrieved than usual.

“I’m married to the mob.”

...to be continued...


----------



## shilsen

Sagiro said:
			
		

> “I was attacked by evil footwear?”




You know, I hate whenever that happens!



> I’m married to the mob.”






Was that line actually delivered at the game or is this creative license?


----------



## el-remmen

> “Do you remember the name ‘The Oracle?’” asks Dranko.
> 
> “Yes! That was me!”





I found this confusing.  Shouldn't it be Lucas that asks and Dranko that says "That was me!"?

Regardless, I look forward to seeing where this goes. . .


----------



## Sagiro

shilsen said:
			
		

> Was that line actually delivered at the game or is this creative license?



Actual line, straight from the tape.


----------



## Sagiro

el-remmen said:
			
		

> I found this confusing.  Shouldn't it be Lucas that asks and Dranko that says "That was me!"?




You are correct.  Fixed.  Thanks!


----------



## Eccles

Short query since I just started re-reading the pdf files.

How old is Dranko by this stage? He's only 10 when the campaign opens. 

Very much enjoying the story, you guys must have a blast with this much history behind you all!


----------



## Piratecat

Eccles said:
			
		

> How old is Dranko by this stage? He's only 10 when the campaign opens.



If it says that somewhere, it's a typo! When the campaign started, he had finally gotten himself free of the church and had moved out on his own; that put him at about 17 or 18 unless I'm forgetting something. At this point, a few years on, he's 21 or 22.


----------



## Eccles

Having just eaten and checked my facts... My bad!

He was mindwiped and lost 10 years briefly. That's fine. I no longer feel the wedding to be a deeply sinister affair!!


----------



## Piratecat

Incidentally, what you're seeing here is the result of a long-delayed _leadership_ feat. I took it for Dranko not long after angering that demon lord Tapheon in the Citadel of Indifference, probably with the half-formed thought of getting a bard and having him spread embarrassing lies about Tapheon. (I also thought about spreading a rumor that Dranko was now Saint Dranko, so if Tapheon ate my soul, some do-gooder paladin would show up in the Abyss to free me. It was a nice thought, but a very silly one.) My leadership feat sat fallow all the time that we were in Het Brannoi and the past.

Then it kicked in all at once.


----------



## Oversight

Well having gotten my first post I figured I'd might as well do another and comment on the extremely interesting role-playing possibilities evident in Dranko's new "friends".  Even the friendliest thieves' guild is going to run morally very gray.  I'm curious how Dranko deals with the complicated moral collisions between running a thieves' guild and being a member of a party of national heroes that runs very much to the "good" side.  Not to mention being a cleric of Delioch.  Basically it seems that Dranko is connected to 3 different moral authorities: the Undermen, the Spire Guard, and Delioch.  

It's these kind of complicated situations that lead to difficult decisions that in turn bring life to a character.  Do the Undermen take assasination jobs?  Do they do money-lending and if they do, what happens when someone doesn't pay up?  Are examples made?  If these kinds of things happen, how do the other members of the party feel about it?  How does Delioch?  How does Dranko?  

Very good stuff.


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 279*_
*What an Oracle Should Know*


Dranko grins wide, having finally heard confirmation of his lofty status.  And upon hearing that he does in fact head up a powerful semi-criminal organization, the first words out of his mouth are: 

“Then tell me why I’m not richer!”

Lucas clears his throat.  “As your right-hand man – and it pains me to remind you of this – I should point out that the Undermen’s treasury can be used for discretionary purposes, by you or other members of your Small Council with your permission.  I don’t know if it’s a lot by your standards – we have perhaps 30,000 gold in liquid assets, and another 15,000 tied up in investments and business ventures.”

He pauses, then asks:  “Have I passed the test yet?”

“Not yet.  Keep going!” exhorts Dranko.  

Lucas strokes his goatee and peers thoughtfully at Dranko for a moment.  “If Turlissa is correct, and you are someone disguised as Dranko attempting to learn Guild secrets, it’s a brilliant disguise.  It means you have somehow infiltrated the Greenhouse, disposed of Dranko Blackhope and all of his adventuring associates, replaced them with people who look and act like them in all ways, and have adopted a number of Dranko’s unique mannerisms that I would have sworn could never be ascribed to another individual... no, it simply can’t be.   It’s much easier for me to believe that you’ve simply lost your memory.  I don’t understand what you were saying before about time changing and the rest, but honestly I don’t think I have to.”

“Agreed,” says Dranko, and now he feels relief at having gotten past the tricky part of the conversation.   “What I need from you, is that you look after our best interests, and _my_ best interests in particular.”  

“You know I always do,” says Lucas gravely.  “Part of the reason your position is so tenuous is that many in the Guild do not wish to be led by someone with such a high degree of absenteeism.  When you are gone, which is often – and usually you _tell_ me, so I can step in smoothly – I am always pleased to handle the affairs of the Undermen.”

Dranko smiles gratefully at Lucas.  “I’m curious,” he says.  “Just as a matter of moral principle, we don’t do assassinations, do we?”

“No, not as a rule,” says Lucas.

“Excellent,” says Dranko.  “That makes me happy.”

Lucas does offer a qualification.  “Occasionally, in the course of disrupting some illicit operation, people die.  But it is not our preference.  Murder is bad for business, and we are involved in a lot of... business.”

“We are the grease that keeps the wheels of commerce turning!” says Dranko with a knowing look.

“Yes, that’s an excellent way of putting it.  In fact, I’ve heard you say similar things in the past.”

Over the mind-link Morningstar suggests a new inquiry.

“You’ll need to brief me on any enemies we have,” says Dranko.  Then, not that Morningstar specifically asked, but he adds:  “Oh, and am I sleeping with Turlissa?”

Lucas looks scandalized.  “Gods no!” he exclaims.  “You really have no memory, do you?”

“Then why did she kiss me when she first saw me?” asks Dranko.

“That’s just how she is,” says Lucas.  “A shameless flirt.  She’s always been like that, especially with you.  She has... utmost respect for you and your relationship with Morningstar.  She just... thinks you’re cute.  It’s one of those mysteries that none of us can explain.”

Kibi suggests asking about the other members of the Small Council.  Morningstar passes this on to Dranko, who in turn asks Lucas.  

Lucas sighs.  “I suppose I’d better remind you about them before we meet, which we ought to do at your earliest convenience.  Turlissa is technically not a member of the Small Council.  She is... well, she calls herself a master spy.  She collects incoming information about illicit crime in the city.   She delivers her reports to me on a regular basis.”  

“Which reminds me,” says Dranko.  “We should make a public show of a healer coming to “fix my memory,” so that Turlissa’s rumors don’t make it to the wrong ears.”

“I’ll take care of that,” says Lucas.  “I’ll explain everything to her.  Now.  The Small Council then.  Of course there’s you at the top – styling yourself ‘The Oracle,’ naturally.”

Morningstar shares this with the others, which elicits a gale of laughter.   For better or worse the secret room is soundproofed, so Lucas doesn’t hear.

“I am Lucas Blackwell.  I am ‘The Hand’ – your right-hand man, and the second in command.  I have always been privy to your plans and thoughts, so that I can step in and take over during your many absences.

“There is Greta Smith.  She is ‘The Box.’  She is the treasurer.”

“If these are all named after body parts, then she totally got screwed,” says Dranko.

Lucas counts silently to three.  “She has an excellent head for numbers,” he says evenly.  “She runs the accounts, keeps the money flowing smoothly.

“There is Aaron Martel; he is ‘The Blade.’  He trains the Undermen in combat.  He has been fiercely loyal to you ever since you saved his life.   Do you remember that?"

“Nope.”

“Remind me to go over all of the details – as many as I can think of.  Aaron Martel is perhaps the most critical person to your political position, because the self-proclaimed ‘Knuckles’ don’t approve of you.  He keeps them in line.

“There is Gideon Hollow – He calls himself ‘The Brain.’  He is an arcane trickster,  a halfling, very good at what he does despite his attitude.  From time to time he crafts items that we sell  or use on Guild business.  

“And of course there is ‘The Mouse,’ your friend Flicker, in charge of ‘questionable procurement,’ as we say.”

Morningstar shares this with Flicker, who freaks out.   Grey Wolf puts on hand on his shoulder.  “That means you’re nearly at the top of the Thieves’ Guild.”

Flicker hyperventilates.  

“Just for reference,” says Dranko to Lucas.  “Flicker doesn’t remember any of this either.”

“Because he was with you,” says Lucas, shaking his head.  “Of course.  Can I count on you to brief him on everything we discuss?  Tell him it’s very important that Gideon doesn’t find out – the two of them are not on the best of terms.”

“Right.”

“Finally,” says Lucas, “there’s Octavius Hightower, who is technically part of the Small Council.  He is called ‘The Ear,’ and he is the head of your propaganda arm.  He leads the Starshine Ensemble, is an excellent musician, and is your main source of information outside Tal Hae.  They have players, musicians, dancers and such in various places around Charagan.  He has an office in Tal Hae but is based out of the capital and so only attends meetings sporadically.  Whenever you need rumors spread or rumors gathered, he’s your man.”

“Great!” is Dranko’s comment about all of that.  No understatement, that: Dranko is already scheming about the ways he can use a kingdom-wide rumor machine, most of them entirely inappropriate.  

“Perhaps I should call a meeting at the Manse, tomorrow afternoon,” says Lucas, breaking Dranko’s reverie.

“Where’s the Manse?  Say, I found this extra key on my keychain when I came back – does it open up the Manse?”

Lucas realizes he’s acquired a splitting headache since arriving at the Greenhouse.   Not bothering to hide the pained tone of his voice, he answers, “That’s the key to the _vault_, Dranko.”

“Good to know.  So, is the Manse in the Tailor shop?”

Surprise blossoms on Lucas’s face.  “Very good!  Perhaps your memory is returning.  You have just identified one of the ways in.”

“We actually used divination to follow Turlissa,” admits Dranko.  Lucas’s face sags.

“So you understand,” he says wearily.  “Just...so we’re on the same page.  Your position is highly unusual in the history of the Undermen.  You are... as secure as you can be, given your position in your church, and your position as a member of the Spire Guard, and your liaison with the Church of Ell.”

“I’d like to think that all adds some legitimacy to the position,” says Dranko.

_There’s not enough time in the world to explain everything_ thinks Lucas, rubbing his throbbing temples.  

“Let’s just say that you exude an aura of extreme importance that people are generally afraid to poke,” he says, trying to encapsulate Dranko’s complex position in as few words as possible.

“Ah,” says Dranko.

“There is a rumor about a connection even with Duke Nigel himself,” adds Lucas.

“What, nothing about King Crunard?” asks Dranko, feigning seriousness.

Lucas counts to five this time.  “No.”

He stands up and moves to the door.  “Talk to Quince, the tailor.   He will pretend not to know you, but if you ask to see the scarves in the back of the shop, he will tell you to go right ahead.   In the back of the shop, out of sight from most of the rest, is a rack of coats.  Behind that rack is a trap-door.  I will trust that a man of your means will have no difficulty finding it.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to have people ask to see the rack of, you know, _coats?_ asks Dranko.

“It’s subterfuge.  There is a rack of coats, next to the rack of scarves.   It’s useful if we think someone is tailing.  We change the password regularly – in fact, you yourself insisted on the current every-two-month rotation.   The Manse is entirely underground.  It contains meeting rooms, safe houses, the council room, the Vault to which you have the key; it has Gideon’s laboratory...  look, why don’t you simply meet me at the Manse, and I can go in with you.  That way I can cover for if you meet anyone on the way to the council meeting.”

Dranko and Lucas descend the stairs to the living room, where the Company, having essentially eavesdropped on the entire conversation, acts natural. 

“Everybody!” Dranko announces.  “This is Lucas.  Lucas is my second in command with the Undermen.  We like him.”

Lucas starts.  “Oh, so none of them remember anything either?”

“Nope,” says Dranko.

“Ah,” says Lucas.  “Please explain it to them.”

The tall man turns to the assembled Company and bows.  “It was nice to see you all again, even if you don’t remember me.”

With that, he walks out into the night.

Aravis turns to Dranko.  “Yes, you have a _lot_ of explaining to do.”

...to be continued...


----------



## el-remmen

You know, normally I have a definite vision of Dranko, but for this whole exchange I just kept imagining Piratecat's pie-eating grin, except replace "pie" with something else. 

Sounds like a fun "discovery".


----------



## coyote6

How much of this (Dranko's new position) did the player(s) know about in advance, and how much was made up entirely by the GM and thus was a total surprise to the player(s)?


----------



## KidCthulhu

coyote6 said:
			
		

> How much of this (Dranko's new position) did the player(s) know about in advance, and how much was made up entirely by the GM and thus was a total surprise to the player(s)?




All of it was a surprise.  For Piratecat it was a pleasant surprise, nay, a culmination of all Dranko's wildest dreams.

For the rest of us, it was rather more on the Nightmare side.


----------



## darkhall-nestor

does the party still have that "lizard man Mage"  that was killed on one of the planes of the abyss and then deflated rolled up and stuffed into a bag of holding---->.

So anyway if they do, any plans on doing anything with him/her/it?


----------



## Piratecat

darkhall-nestor said:
			
		

> does the party still have that "lizard man Mage"  that was killed on one of the planes of the abyss and then deflated rolled up and stuffed into a bag of holding---->.
> 
> So anyway if they do, any plans on doing anything with him/her/it?



We did that? Got a link? I have no memory!

Holy cow, that may explain that lingering smell...

Incidentally, just to give folks a feel for it, we played Thursday night and everyone is now 17th level. Sagiro is a sneaky, sneaky DM; in the game right now we are currently of the opinion that we _want_ to build an inlaid black circle diagram out of obsidian bricks, to perform one of their own damn rituals. Oh, _that's_ a good idea, and we certainly have a choice -- but the alternative is worse. Stupid sneaky DM.


----------



## Joshua Randall

darkhall-nestor said:
			
		

> that "lizard man Mage"  that was killed on one of the planes of the abyss and then deflated rolled up and stuffed into a bag of holding



I think he means the guy who temporarily kidnapped Flicker during the Het Branoi adventures, in order to coerce the party into following him to (what turned out to be) Sagiro (the NPC) and the Red Eye.


----------



## Joshua Randall

*Blast from the Past -- Moirel and the Eyes*

I was cleaning out my e-mail and I found one I had sent to myself (who, me? crazy?) regarding Moirel and the Eyes. This was way before the most recent spate of updates that made clear who she was/is, and before the Eyes served their purpose and got dusted.

At the time, I was trying to come up with my own explanation for Moirel, the Eyes, Condor, etc. Long-time readers of this Story Hour thread will be familiar with my other wildly unsuccessful predictions, such as that Condor and Cranchus were the same person, or that Darkeye (heretofor unseen leader of the Sharshun) is actually the mirror universe version of Mrs. Horn, complete with tight-fitting black leather outfit.

Actually, I still hold out hope for that latter prediction. 

Anyway, I thought it might be amusing to re-post some of these "greatest hits" here. Relive these moments, and marvel once again at the tightly woven strands of Sagiro's plot tapestry.

[sblock][from Previa]
The Eyes of Moirel are another story.  Legend has it that Moirel was an elven mage who appeared in the Mirrors of 
Semek, well over 2000 years ago (exact date not known), carrying a number of highly magical diamonds, each cut 
round, with many facets.  She was robbed of them by bandits, and she spent the rest of her days searching for them.   
The legends say that she was driven mad with the desire to find them, and there are conflicting stories of her fate.   
Some say she was killed by halflings who lived in the grassy hills near the Mirrors, for in her madness she was 
wrecking the little people's homes with powerful magics.  Others maintain that after years of searching she walked 
back into the mirrors and vanished.  By most accounts, however, she died a wandering lunatic, asking all she met to 
give her back her Eyes so that she could go home. 

= = = = =

The Company arrive back in Tal Hae [after Mirrors of Semek] and go immediately to the Greenhouse, but the crystal ball is still dead, and there's no 
sign of Abernathy. 
There is another letter from the Temple of Ell, with some information that might be about an Eye of Moirel near the town of 
Medir on the island of Nahalm: 
To Morningstar, Shield of Ell: 
Greetings, sister, from Previa, Chronicler.  I have discovered one more reference, though vague, that may have 
bearing on your request for knowledge.  This excerpt is from Chronicler Eloa of Dimres, written 48 years ago: 

"And this man, who named himself Isaac, he came at night to the doors of our house, bleeding from a dozen 
wounds, and with the madness in his eyes.  At first he begged for sanctuary, and so we admitted him, and tended to 
his hurts.  From his ravings we gathered that he had staggered almost fifty miles from the low hills about the town of 
Medir.  He had been the leader of a band of outlaws, and there had been some falling out among them, and he had 
slain many of his own comrades, so that (in his own words) 'they would not steal his sight.'

"When we asked him what this meant, he became restless.  When one of the Hands attempted to calm him further, he 
flung himself away, and from the folds of his tattered cloak he withdrew a strange gem.  It was a clear, round-cut 
diamond, the size of a child's fist, and in its center was a blackness, perhaps a flaw, perhaps a bit of jet -- we could not 
say.  The outlaw held it up, and began to shout: 'Do you not know?  I have the eye that sees truth!  And I see the light 
that will come into this place, scrying out all your shadowed corners, and piercing your secrets.  I can see it!  I can see!'

"At that moment Verna, the High Priestess, came into the chamber, and ordered that the man be turned out of the 
Temple.  He was, though his ravings continued, and among them he vowed to return to Medir and slay the rest of 
his treacherous fellows.  At Verna's command the man was followed some miles out of Dimres, and he was headed 
east, and our sisters returned.  The High Priestess would say no more about the man, and he did not come back." 
-- Previa 

= = = = =

Masteen has been in the hire of Sagiro 
and the Sharshun for a few months, and has been given lots of information about the party.  He knows that the Sharshun are 
looking for the Eyes of Moirel, and that the Eyes are devices that are used for some sort of travel. He has a guess that the Sharshun 
are trying to free their imprisoned Emperor, though that is only a guess.  By inference, it is clear that Masteen is not being affected 
noticeably by the Masking.  And he divulges (by thought) how much he has been paid and where he's keeping the money. 
Eventually, he figures out that his mind has been read this entire time, and he despairs.  The Company decide to let him go, but 
not before Kay makes him drink a fake potion, which she claims will kill him if he commits any act of violence against 
women.  He departs with some unkind words for her.

Meanwhile Sarai, while grateful for the help against the Sharshun, is upset that the Cyclops is missing.  Kay sorts out some 
tracks that seem to match, and follows them into the forest, where they end at a tall tree.  The Cyclops is sitting up in the tree.   
And then, as the Company and Sarai look up at it, it begins to talk in a gravelly voice.  Dranko calls up to it, offering to keep it 
safe in a storage room in the Greenhouse, but it claims that it would rather be set prominently on a mantelpiece.

Sarai jumps in 
and offers to do just that, and the Cyclops agrees to go with her.  (It actually seems to consider itself as the tiger's property.) 
In the discussion with the Cyclops that follows (and over the next few days' travel), the Company learn some interesting things, 
though the creature is often hopelessly enigmatic.

It is clearly self-aware, and refers to the other Eyes as its "brothers."  It dislikes 
the Sharshun, because they want to use the Eyes to "travel nowhere," and it doesn't want to do that.  It claims that Moirel went 
mad for that reason; that she "traveled nowhere" and, not being ready for whatever that entailed, lost her mind.  It seems to regard 
all notions of (and questions about) time as meaningless.  It feels closely associated with its physical form -- it thinks of itself as 
the Cyclops, not just the Eye.  It's also of the opinion that its brother should not be held captive in the Greenhouse. [2, 33-34] 

= = = = =

Eddings is there to greet the party as usual.  What is less usual is that his eyes are missing from their sockets, and in their 
places are the two Eyes of Moirel!  The edges of the sockets are rimed over with colored crystal, one purple, the other green.   
They speak through Eddings using his voice, each one glowing (either purple or green) while it is the one "talking":

WELCOME HOME, ERNEST. KIBI.

YOU HAVE KEPT ME PRISONER, BUT I HAVE ALSO BEEN YOUR GUEST. YOUR GUEST I WILL REMAIN. BUT I LIKED THE LIZARD 
MORE. 

LISTEN WELL TO ME. THE VENTIFACT COLOSSUS IS WAKING FROM ITS SLEEP. THE WORLD IS AT A CROSSROADS. 

LISTEN WELL TO ME. THE GREAT SAND TURTLE WILL ARISE FROM SLUMBER, AND DESTINIES WILL SCATTER LIKE GRAINS OF 
SAND TUMBLING FROM ITS SHELL. 

HEED WELL MY WARNING. IF THE COLOSSUS IS NOT SLAIN BY THE STORMKNIGHTS, THOUSANDS WILL PERISH. IT WILL LEAD 
ITS BRETHREN IN A CRUSADE OF MINDLESS DESTRUCTION. 

HEED WELL MY WARNING. IF THE COLOSSUS IS KILLED BY THE WAR GOD'S CHILDREN, THOUSANDS WILL PERISH. ITS DEATH 
WILL HERALD THE COMING OF THE FIRE. 

YOU MUST NOT ALLOW THE WATCHERS TO SUCCEED. THEY WILL SACRIFICE THE PRESENT, AND ONLY TO SAVE AN EMPTY 
FUTURE. 

YOU MUST NOT ALLOW THE WATCHERS TO FAIL. THE STORMKNIGHTS WILL THROW THE FUTURE INTO CHAOS, AND ONLY TO 
SAVE THE EPHEMERAL PRESENT. 

MY BROTHER IS CORRECT. THE DEATH OF THE COLOSSUS WILL CREATE A PERILOUS FUTURE. 

MY BROTHER IS CORRECT. THE SURVIVAL OF THE COLOSSUS WILL RESULT IN DESTRUCTION BEYOND MEASURE. BUT BEST THAT 
NONE BE ALIVE TO SEE THE FUTURE BURN. FOR THE FUTURE IS CARVED IN DIAMOND, THAT NONE MAY ERASE OR CHANGE. 

NO. THE FUTURE IS WRITTEN ON WATER, AND WE ARE ALL ITS AUTHORS. 

Then both Eyes speak, glowing at the same time as Eddings speaks in a strangely double-toned voice: 

YOU HAVE THE FOCUS, IN WHOSE VEINS RUNS THE BLOOD OF SANTO. YOU HAVE THE OPENER, WHO BRIDGES THE LIGHT 
AND THE EARTH. YOU WILL STILL NEED THE TALISMAN TO PRESERVE YOUR SANITY. YOU WILL STILL NEED A SOURCE OF 
ENERGY, FOR WE WILL BE OTHERWISE OCCUPIED. AND THERE IS ONE MORE THING. 

OUR CREATOR DID NOT FULLY UNDERSTAND US. THOUGH YOU DO NOT HAVE THE KNOWLEDGE OR THE MIGHT TO BEND 
US TO YOUR WILL, WE ARE NOT ALL REQUIRED. TO TRAVEL NOWHERE, YOU WILL NEED US WHO ARE WILLING. TO TRAVEL 
NOWHERE, WE WILL NEED OUR BROTHER. 

HE IS IN THE HOUSE OF HET BRANOI, BEYOND THE GATE OF FIRE, AND HE CANNOT RETURN ON HIS OWN. THE CANARY 
HAS ENTRAPPED THE CAT. RETURN HIM TO US, SO YOU MIGHT WALK IN THE FOOTPRINTS OF MOIREL. 

= = = = =

[Kibi's weird experience]
you are standing on a white marble floor, and specifically within a wide grey circle drawn on that floor.  Nine candles burn at various 
points around its perimeter.  Around you is a wide chamber with a high ceiling; the walls are marked with glyphs and patterns, written in 
a grey, swirling hand.  The room is lit by hanging lanterns, and through a round glass window at the highest point in the ceiling you can 
see, in a black night sky, a full, red moon.  In front of you are two people: a tall, imperious-looking woman in a brown and white robe, 
and a small man with spectacles, holding a large book. 

The woman speaks: "Something must have gone wrong.  This is a dwarf!"

The man frantically looks through the book. "No, we did this right.  I made sure of it."

The woman answers, "Dolt! The Opener is a mage.  It has to be! And dwarves are incapable of magery.  We must have made a mistake."

"Perhaps this one isn't.  Maybe he's -- oh, I don't know.  And besides, this one has to be the Opener.  The summoning wouldn't have 
worked on anyone else."

He flips to a page near the back of the book. "I'll read it again, milady, in case you've forgotten.  "When the smoke of nine is set 
beneath the Sigil of the Sky, and four of Tirat's children align themselves behind the moon, the Opener will be brought from an echoing 
world.  He is the wizard who will move the World Stone.  He will bridge the Earth and the light, and force the gates of yesterday."

"I told you," says the woman frowning.  "It says 'wizard.'"

"Hm," says the man.  He looks at you.  "Well?  Are you a wizard?"

You feel as though you couldn't lie, even if you wanted to.  "Of course," you say. 

"Ah," he says.  "Well then.  Good.  What is your name?"

"Kibilhathur Bimson."

"Well, Kibilhathur Bimson, know this.  You have been summoned by the Lady Serpicore, Mistress of the Wizards' College, and by her 
humble apprentice, Maudrin.  You are under our control for as long as the task takes.  When your task is done, you will be released to 
your home.  We will not mistreat you, but if you resist us, we will compel you, and that might cause you discomfort.  Your task is 
dangerous, and though we will give you assistance, and protect your life however we might, there is no guarantee that you will survive.   
Understand that the fate of Cafille, our world, hangs in the balance, and that if you fail, you will perish with the rest of us. 

"Will you assist us willingly, or will we be obliged to compel you?"

For the record, Kibi agreed to help willingly.  He embarked on a quest [...] 

= = = = =

The Eyes alternately glow, and speak slowly to the Company in Skorg's voice. 

SUCH A COLLECTION OF FOCI IS WITHOUT PRECEDENT. ABERNATHY PLAYED A DANGEROUS GAME, BRINGING SO MANY 
TOGETHER. AND NOW THE LIGHT IS WITH YOU. KEEP HIM SAFE, OR SUCCESS SOONER WILL TURN TO ASH LATER. 

YOU ARE NEARLY READY TO MAKE THE GREAT JOURNEY, TO QUIET THE OSCILLATING THREADS OF FATE. INTO THIS PLACE OF 
REFUGE YOU HAVE BROUGHT WHAT YOU WILL NEED. YOU HAVE THE FOCUS, SON OF HE WHO STOOD AT THE HEART OF 
NOWHERE IN AGES PAST. YOU HAVE THE OPENER, WITHOUT WHOM THE LIGHT WILL TEAR YOUR BODIES FREE OF ALL 
MOORINGS. YOU HAVE THE TALISMAN, FORGED IN DAYS FORGOTTEN BY THE EARTH MAGE, WITHOUT WHICH THE LIGHT 
WILL TEAR YOUR MINDS FREE OF ALL MOORINGS. YOU HAVE NOW A SOURCE OF POWER, TO MAKE UP FOR THE LACK OF 
FOUR OF OUR BROTHERS. ALL WE NOW LACK IS THE THIRD. HE MUST ACCOMPANY US. 

CONDOR IS A NAME YOU HEARD LONG AGO, GREATEST OF NALORIC'S INNER CIRCLE. HE DROVE A SPIKE THROUGH THE 
FABRIC OF ALL THINGS, AND LOCKED THE HOLE WITH SEVEN KEYS. HE TOLD NALORIC THAT IT WOULD BE NECESSARY, TO 
CORRECT FUTURE MISTAKES THAT COULD NOT BE CORRECTED. THE EMPEROR WAS A SKEPTIC, LIKE ALL GREAT MEN. HE 
DEMANDED THAT CONDOR'S DAUGHTER, MOIREL, BE THE FIRST TO GO THROUGH, AS A TEST. SEVEN KEYS SHE HELD, AND SHE 
PLUNGED INTO THE HOLE THAT HER FATHER HAD MADE. SHE EMERGED WHOLE IN BODY, BUT BROKEN IN MIND. THE KEYS 
WERE SCATTERED, AND MOIREL WANDERED FAR TO FIND THEM, UNTIL SHE FORGOT WHO SHE WAS. SHE HAD NO FOCUS. 
SHE HAD NO OPENER. SHE HAD NO HOPE. 

BUT ALL PLANS AND PLOTS FIND THEIR WAY INTO THE GREAT TAPESTRY. WE SEVEN REACHED OUT INTO THE MULTIVERSE 
DURING THAT FIRST JOURNEY, CLUTCHING FOR LIFE, FOR ABERNIA WAS INACCESSIBLE WHILE WE TRAVELED. VOLPOS WAS 
THE CLOSEST, AND FROM THERE COMES OUR SENTIENCE. WE BOUND VOLPOS TO ABERNIA, AND MOIREL ABSORBED THE 
ESSENCE OF BOTH. TWO PLANES OF BEING LOCKED TOGETHER, MOIREL AT THEIR CENTER. NOW, HER LAST DESCENDANT… 
HE IS THE CENTER. 

BEWARE, SON OF MOIREL! WHEN ABERNIA AND VOLPOS EMBRACE, THE CENTER WILL BE BURNED AWAY, TO FUSE THE 
TWO TOGETHER FOR A TIME. ENOUGH TIME. HEED THE WORDS OF THE KYASHA. HEED THE WORDS OF THE 
NUMISMATIST. HEED THE WORDS OF THE TRAITOR. STAND IN SHADOW. STAND 'TWIXT THE SHADOWS. WHEN THE SKY 
IS REVEALED AND THE ARCS TOUCH YOUR FRAME, THE WINDOW WILL OPEN. YOUR FLAME MUST BE EXTINGUISHED 
BEFORE THE CORES CONVERGE ON YOUR SOUL. 

= = = = =

Seconds pass that seem like an eternity.  It is just creeping into peoples' minds that nothing is going to happen, when they start 
to feel the vibrations.  At first there is no sound, just a silent thrumming that buzzes through their bodies from all around.  Then 
a low rumble begins, sounding through the basement walls.  The Greenhouse is trembling, ever so slightly. 

"Kibi?  Are you okay?" asks Ernie. 

"Yes.  They aren't saying anything."

The rumble becomes louder, as if a small earthquake is shaking the foundations of the house.  An alembic on Aravis' 
workbench starts to rattle.  In Kibi's head, words form: 

EARTH WIZARD, YOU ARE BECOMING WHAT WILL BE ONE WITH US. 

BEFORE THE END YOU WILL DESCEND, DESTROY, AND OPEN THE DOOR TO YOUR GREATEST FEAR. 

BUT THE JOURNEY FROM NOW TO THEN IS A JOURNEY FROM NOW TO THEN TO NOW, 
AND MANY YEARS LIE 'TWIXT KEY AND DOOR. 

NOW, ALL OF YOU -- WAIT, FOR THE TIME IS ALMOST UPON YOU. 

Kibi repeats what he heard to the others.  As they ponder the words, the Greenhouse creaks, as if a gale has started to blow 
outside.  The laboratory equipment is all a-clatter; a flask falls on its side, rolls off a table and shatters on the hard earth floor.   
From upstairs they hear the sound of windows yammering in their frames. 

The shaft of sunlight shining down through the stairwell goes out, as if the sun has been switched off.  And from Kibi's mouth 
two voices speak, his own voice doubled, sounding in unison.  The Eyes in his hands glow brightly, purple and green, as the 
words come. 

IT HAS ALL COME UNDONE. 
YOUR ENEMIES UNMAKE THE WORLD, 
BUT YOU SHALL NOT BE UNMADE, 
AND ALONE OF ALL THINGS YOU SHALL BE REMADE. 

Flicker bounds up the stairs in a panic. It's a bit past two in the afternoon, and all is dark outside.  And not just dark.  Lightless. 
He runs to a window and puts his face to the glass, but there is nothing outside.  For all that he can see, the Greenhouse is 
floating in a great black void.  He runs back down to the others. 

The Greenhouse groans as if something outside is trying to twist it apart.  All around them their glassware is rolling off tables 
and benches, crashing onto the floor. 

The green Eye glows brightly, and from Kibi's mouth comes its voice. 

OUTSIDE, THE WORLD IS AS IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN --
SLAVES, TOIL, FEAR, AND THE ENDLESS DIGGING. 
THE EMPEROR DRIVES THEM, ALWAYS DEEPER INTO DESPAIR. 
EVIL BEYOND EVIL, AND YET HIMSELF ONLY A MEANS TO AN END. 
FEAR HIM, BUT FEAR MORE HIS SUCCESS. 

There is a series of crashes from upstairs as jars and crockery fall from kitchen shelves.  Tiny cracks appear in the floor, the walls.   
The sound of shaking and rattling becomes almost deafening, and it seems a miracle that the Greenhouse is not flying apart in a 
shower of beams and bricks.  Beyond the sound of the house is that of a wailing wind, or the scream of an unearthly voice. 
The purple Eye flashes in Kibi's hand, and his voice sounds clear above the din. 

INSIDE, THE WORLD IS AS IT NEVER WAS -- 
HOPE, STRENGTH, FREEDOM AND THE SAFETY OF FORESIGHT. 
THE ARCHMAGE CRAFTED IT, A HAVEN TO BE ANATHEMA TO YOUR ENEMIES' DESIGNS. 
WISE BEYOND WISDOM, AND YET HIMSELF ONLY A MEANS TO AN END. 
TRUST HIM, BUT TRUST MORE YOURSELVES. 

The Greenhouse quiets. 

Is that all? 

Sweat is dripping down Kibi's face into his beard.  His grasping knuckles are pale. 

A shaft of light again shines down the stairwell, but brighter, oh so much brighter.  From outside the Greenhouse shines a light 
brighter than a hundred suns, absolutely blinding, filling every window with its blaze. 

Both Eyes glow again, purple and green light intermingling with the powerful ambient sunlight from upstairs.  In his strange 
double voice Kibi speaks a final time. 

THEY ARE FOLLOWING BACK THE PATH OF MOIREL. THEY HAVE ALWAYS DONE SO. 
WE CANNOT PURSUE THEM WITHOUT OUR BROTHER. 
IF YOU WISH TO TRAVEL NOWHERE, TO UNMAKE THE WORLD, 
BRING US TO THE HOME OF SEVEN DARK WORDS AND MAKE US THREE. 
BEWARE THE WORLD. 

The dazzling light goes out.  The Greenhouse is still.[/sblock]


----------



## darkhall-nestor

Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> I think he means the guy who temporarily kidnapped Flicker during the Het Branoi adventures, in order to coerce the party into following him to (what turned out to be) Sagiro (the NPC) and the Red Eye.





yep that is the one


----------



## Piratecat

Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> At the time, I was trying to come up with my own explanation for Moirel, the Eyes, Condor, etc. Long-time readers of this Story Hour thread will be familiar with my other wildly unsuccessful predictions, such as that Condor and Cranchus were the same person, or that Darkeye (heretofor unseen leader of the Sharshun) is actually the mirror universe version of Mrs. Horn, complete with tight-fitting black leather outfit.
> 
> Actually, I still hold out hope for that latter prediction.



Dude, you _deeply_ worry me.  

My theory that Cranchus and the evil Parthol Runecarver (traitorous archmagi) were the same person is STILL utterly brilliant, even though it's been blatantly proven to be completely wrong. I was so sure...  Our current theory is that Darkeye and Moirel are the same person. If so, it's going to be fun to get to say "Hey, nice to meet you, we killed your dad" when she's wiping the floor with us.


----------



## Joshua Randall

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Dude, you _deeply_ worry me.



So says the man who plays the half-orc with sex on the brain so often that his own party members sometimes have to ask him not to think over the _rary's telepathic bond_! 



> Our current theory is that Darkeye and Moirel are the same person.



That seems too obvious for Sagiro. His machinations are more subtle and devious.

Unless that's what he WANTS us to think, and it really IS as simple as Darkeye = Moirel.

My head hurts.


----------



## StevenAC

Piratecat said:
			
		

> We did that? Got a link? I have no memory!
> 
> Holy cow, that may explain that lingering smell...



Here's some quotes for you, taken from Chapter 4 of Part Two of the Collected Story Hour...

First, Dranko finding Srapa's body after the party's fight with him (p.157):







> He only spots Srapa’s body because of the blood.  The lizard-man is impaled on a snapped-off pine tree that’s poking up through the ice, having fallen over two hundred feet.  Dranko picks up Srapa’s staff, searches briefly for other belongings, and then sets about prising the body off its stake.  It’s a chore, since the body has slid past downward-pointing branches, and the blood is already starting to freeze.  Finally the corpse wrenches free with a gruesome tearing sound; fresh blood gouts out, spilling onto Dranko.  “Flicker, I’m doing this for you.  There’s no _treasure_ worth this, that’s for sure.”



Then, shortly afterwards (p.158):







> The Company cast _shrink item_ and _gentle repose_ on Srapa’s body, fold it up, and Stow it in a pack for later questioning.  Getting back to the Eye of the Storm is a simple logistical matter, mostly of wind walks and teleports.  Before the day is out they are emerging into the netted enclosure around the Way in/out of the Demon Slices.
> 
> “Hello!  We’re back!” calls Grey Wolf.
> 
> “Not demons!” adds Ernie.
> 
> Back at the Inn, Horny is the first to greet them.  “You get him?” he asks.
> 
> Dranko pulls out the sapphire and holds it up to the light.  “What’s that?” asks the minotaur.
> 
> “That’s Flicker.  He’s trapped inside this gem.”
> 
> “Oh, well, yeah, I’m glad you got him back, but what I really meant was, did you get the bastard who kidnapped him?”
> 
> “Yeah,” says Morningstar.  Kibi pulls out the body of Srapa, folded up in its cloth-like state.
> 
> “That’s just a piece of cloth painted like a lizard,” says Horny, scratching his head.  “It’s neat, but I meant the actual guy who kidnapped your friend.”
> 
> Slightly affronted, Kibi dismisses the _shrink item_ spell, and there’s the shrunken body of Srapa lying on the table.  “That’s disgusting!” exclaims Horny.
> 
> “Well, you didn’t believe me,” complains Kibi.
> 
> “So that cloth thing was the body!”
> 
> “Still is,” points out Grey Wolf.
> 
> “Magic is a wonderful and glorious thing,” says Dranko.  “Can we get on with it?  Who around here has a hammer and an anvil?”



The next day (p.160):







> The next morning, Morningstar casts _speak with dead_ on Srapa’s corpse, but the spell fails.  There’s much debate afterward on whether or not they should carry the lizard-man’s body around for another week in order to try again.  Most are in favor, though the thought makes Ernie and Step uncomfortable.  Snokas snorts, “I feel bad about the body, but not _that_ bad.  The guy kidnapped Flicker!”
> 
> “We can just bless the body before we pack it away again,” Flicker adds, supporting the idea.  “Heck, we could get a box, bless _that_, and keep the body folded up inside.  Then we wouldn’t feel as guilty.”
> 
> “You’re attempting to finesse,” accuses Step.
> 
> “If we’re carrying around unburied bodies, we _should_ feel guilty about it!” cries Ernie.  But the corpse-carrying advocates win the day; Kibi casts _shrink item_ again, folds up the body, and stows it.



And the body of poor Srapa never appears again, even though the _shrink item_ spell (and the _gentle repose_, for that matter) should have worn off by now...


----------



## darkhall-nestor

thanks for the back up S.A.C.

wouldn't the body be preserved in a bag o holding or a haversack


ooh scary "the haunted haversack"


----------



## coyote6

darkhall-nestor said:
			
		

> wouldn't the body be preserved in a bag o holding or a haversack




Not ordinarily; the usual variety don't come with stasis fields or anything; food will rot, wind-up clocks will wind down, living people can use up all the air and suffocate, etc.




			
				darkhall-nestor said:
			
		

> ooh scary "the haunted haversack"




Worse -- open the bag, and some souped-up wight reaches out and grabs you. Forget _bag of devouring_; it's a _bag of energy drain_!


----------



## thegreyman

Of course, it could just be that everyone forgot, and now that we've reminded Sagiro, lots of evil, twisted things come of it.  It's sometimes really bad to remind your DM that you still are carrying those extra tidbits you picked up...


----------



## darkhall-nestor

thegreyman said:
			
		

> Of course, it could just be that everyone forgot, and now that we've reminded Sagiro, lots of evil, twisted things come of it.  It's sometimes really bad to remind your DM that you still are carrying those extra tidbits you picked up...





I thought of that 
 its all good--------for us


----------



## KidCthulhu

I'm pretty sure we remembered to take him out of the bag, and this just wasn't an important enough item for Sagiro to comment on.  Sorry guys, no haunted sack.


----------



## Piratecat

Dranko has a haunted sack.

[Venture Brothers]Ernie: Dude, the Apaches are back, and they're pitching a haunted teepee in your pants!  Dranko: My pants are haunted! My pants are haunted![/Venture Brothers]

Ahem. Moving right along.


----------



## The_Warlock

Piratecat said:
			
		

> My pants are haunted! My pants are haunted!




Best Windows Critical Error sound ever, by the by.


----------



## Sagiro

This next installment was so long, it exceeded some kind of character limit for posting.  I'm breaking it up int two parts.

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 280a*_
*Dreams, Deliveries, Disease and Doctrine *

Dranko’s new responsibilities aside, the Company has no clear agenda for the first time in its history.  With no dire threats to the Kingdom or other Spire-related outings on which to embark, they mostly hang around the Greenhouse divvying up loot, laying in supplies for a magic-item-creation bonanza, and enjoying some much-deserved R&R.   Nonetheless, they are about to experience an extraordinarily eventful three-month stretch.

Lucas Blackwell does call a brief meeting of the Undermen Small Council, allowing Dranko to meet his immediate underlings.   Greta Smith is an immense woman, easily 6’4” and 250 pounds, with short hair and an open smile.  She does sleight-of-hand tricks with coins while others talk.  Gideon Hollow is an obnoxious and arrogant halfling who shows absolutely no respect for the Oracle’s position.  Aaron Martel is a hulking, brooding man who says little, and if it’s true that a life-debt to Dranko has earned his undying loyalty, there’s no evidence of that during their meeting.   Octavius Hightower is not in attendance but that is not unusual.  

There is little business to discuss.    The day-to-day operations of the Undermen proceed quite smoothly under Lucas’s guiding hand.   The only items on the agenda are a local jeweler suspected of receiving smuggled goods from Forquelle without Guild involvement, and the ongoing surveillance of an independent cat-burglar.   Dranko needs to say little, letting Lucas take the lead in discussions.  Flicker remains entirely silent under some dire but unspecified threat from Dranko.  

After the meeting, Lucas takes Dranko on a tour of the Manse, a regular warren beneath the city of Tal Hae.   There are actually two ways in: one through Quince’s tailor shop, and another through the basement of an abandoned tenement.   Both are heavily guarded every hour of the day.


* *


“God damn it!” Dranko yells.  He has just woken up on the morning after his council meeting to discover that the itchy mystery rash is all over his face.   Flicker and Grey Wolf have it as well.   _Restoration_ and _remove disease_ are still efficacious, but ye Gods, it’s annoying!    Among the Company only Kibi seems immune (as do Snokas and Yoba), but it’s the dwarf who has one of those face-smacking moments of insight about the affliction.  

“You know,” he says over breakfast, “I could just cast _legend lore_ on one of you.  A disease that can’t be cured by magic seems important enough that the spell could work.”

There’s no reason not to try it.  Kibi casts his spell, and ten minutes later a brief verse comes into his head.

_Each agreed, and each knew well
A bargain was made where the darkness fell
Promises broken are vile things
The Goddess heard, and woe she brings_

There are groans all around the breakfast table.  Shreen the Fair!  The Company had sworn an oath on Dralla’s name that they would return the Crosser’s Maze to Shreen when they were done with it.  The rash started to appear soon after Aravis had used the Maze to seal the rift between Abernia and Volpos at Verdshane.   It appears that they are now suffering divine punishment for failing to fulfill their promise.

“I guess a visit to our old friend Shreen is in order,” says Aravis grimly.  Whether or not he will (or even can) relinquish the Crosser’s Maze is not clear.   Still, since the rash can be controlled by daily spells, the Company still plans to spend a few months crafting magic items before returning to Kivia and a showdown with Shreen.


* *


Four nights later, each member of the Company has an intensely vivid dream.   It is the same dream for all of them, and what they dream is this:

_There is only blue.  Above, the sky stretches clear, and below, the ocean lies calm like a sheet of cerulean glass.   

On the surface of the sea there are ships, two sets of three, facing each other across a half-mile of calm water.   The three ships facing west display the holy symbol of Posada, Kivian God of the Sea.  The three ships facing east fly the flags of Charagan and of Brechen.  

One of the ships under Brechen’s symbol is familiar;  Makel Troutman is its captain.

A whirlpool starts to form, slowly, its center exactly between the two groups of ships.  Over time it expands, growing loud and vigorous and deep.   The ships make no move to escape the vortex, and so inexorably they are sucked in; around and around they sweep, tilting ever more steeply as the whirlpool draws them into its heart.   After a time made immeasurable by the nature of dreams the ships plummet downward and out of sight, into the depths of the Uncrossable Sea,  their banners and crews lost forever, sacrifices sealing an accord between bitter Divine rivals._

The Company awakes, and they, like every citizen of Charagan and Kivia alike, understand instinctively what has changed.  The Uncrossable Sea is uncrossable no more.  Across both continents the implications are discussed for weeks – new possibilities opened for ship travel, trade, exploration and war.   Dranko wastes little time in asking Lucas to start sending envoys via _teleport_ to seek economic opportunity.


* *


Morningstar has been dreading the inevitable meeting with High Priestess Rhiavonne.   It’s hard for her to guess what the High Priestess’s reaction will be to Morningstar’s  account of the distant past – or indeed what she has already learned through _communes_ –  but the fate of the Illuminated Sisters is certainly at stake.  And no matter what Rhiavonne might say, Morningstar will not abandon her calling as the Child of Light, especially with Octesian still at large.   To better prepare for the confrontation with the matriarch of her church, Morningstar casts _commune_ herself.  The Avatar of Ell is with her.

Instead of opening with a question, Morningstar takes a moment to frame her inquiries.

“You warned us there was a need for some of us to withstand daylight.  So far we have met the challenges before us.  Politics have grown up around this issue like weeds, but the question remains: will the need for sisters who can walk strong in the daylight span for only a few years, or is this something we should institute for generations?  The High Priestess fears that if we dilute our skills, and return to walking both in night and day, we will be unprepared for some great danger in the future. The Illuminated Sisters believe that your call to us was a signal that we should change our ways for more than just the immediate danger.

“Things have changed somewhat in my present and in my past.  Is all that I have just spoken still the core of the issue?”

*YOUR POLITICS HAVE NOT CHANGED*

“The prophesies of the turtle and the great army showed me that sometimes all paths lead to some kind of danger. Is one of these ways of serving you better than the other?”

*SERVE ELL WITH YOUR HEART*

(Morningstar can't help grumbling a bit at this. _My heart isn’t the problem; it's what my mouth may do that I'm worried about._)

“Will Ell be displeased or weakened if the Illuminated Sisters are cast out and form a separate temple?”

*NO*

“ If all Priestesses learn to withstand daylight, will it cause us to be unprepared for another danger in the future?”

*THAT FUTURE IS UNCERTAIN*

“If I ask the Illuminated Sisters to follow Rhiavonne’s demands, will we be less well prepared for future battles in the dreamscape and with Octesian – the battles that you warned me of when I fulfilled my promise for Mrs. Horn’s life?”

*YES, IF THEY LISTEN*

“Once Octesian is defeated is it likely that the need for a group Dreamwalkers who can withstand the daylight will be fulfilled for my generation?”

*LIKELY? YES. CERTAIN? NO.*

“I have no clear opinion on which practice is the best. My thought is to ask for compromise – to have some sisters in each temple serve as Daywalkers. After being accepted as priestesses and fully learning to operate at night, they would then train to withstand the day. They could work in shifts during the day so that the temple doors could remain open to callers. When not on a Daywalking shift the priestess would be awake at night with the rest of her sisters. The main body of the temple would be able to continue operating as before. The Illuminated Sisters could serve as the first Daywalkers at our various temples and train others.

“Would this change weaken or displease Ell?”

*NO*

“Is there a chance High Priestess Rhiavonne would accept a proposal like this?”

*YES*

“Have the plans to bring back the Emperor been aborted for the next three months?

*YES. YOU HAVE DONE WELL.*

“The Company has several interests to pursue in Kivia.  Will our enemies in Charagan do significant harm here if we pursue our interests in Kivia next?”

*PROBABLY NOT*

“You warned me that Octesian will not forget me. Would it be to our best advantage to pursue him next?”

*PROBABLY NOT*

“You warned me a while back that there is a great evil hidden in Kynder Hold. Does this evil still remain?”

*YES*

“Is it time yet for us to pursue that evil?”

*YOU WOULD NOT SURVIVE*

“Is Parthol Runecarver the threat in Kynder Hold?”

*YES*

“Are Tarsos or Meledien threats that we will need to deal with?”

*YES*

“Should we try to rescue Rosetta or Cencerra before returning to Kivia?”

*NO*



* *


A week and a half after that, while the Company eats breakfast at the Greenhouse, there is a loud knock on the front door.  Eddings finds a messenger from the Ducal Palace standing outside, a rolled up carpet beneath one arm.  

“Is this the residence of General Kay Windstorm and her associates?”

Eddings lets out a sigh; there has been no sign of Kay since her departure from Het Branoi.  

“Yes,” he answers shortly.  “Though the General is indisposed at the moment.”

“My orders stipulate that I may leave this delivery with her associates at the Greenhouse,” says the messenger.  He hands over the rug, along with a note, and departs.  Eddings brings the delivery inside.

Ernie nearly leaps out of his apron when he sees what has arrived.  

“Burning Sky!” he exclaims.  “How in Yondalla’s heaven did this find its way back here?”

The accompanying note explains: 

_To General Kay Windstorm and Company:  

You’ll be happy to know that your carpet was a turning point in the final battles against the Delfirians.   By extreme good luck, a Delfirian messenger using the carpet was shot down by a unit of Werthian archers who were stranded behind enemy lines.  The messenger was carrying orders, and the Werthans smuggled these back to our command center.  With knowledge of their strategies, many kingdom lives were saved in the subsequent battles.   Word has reached me that the Delfirian flying rug had once belonged to you, a spoil of war from a previous battle.  In gratitude for your allowance of continued deployment of the Yrimpan army, I now return this device to you.   

Yours, General Largent Brown._

There is much rejoicing, especially among the Company’s halfling cooks.  And, even better, it turns out that the reacquisition of Burning Sky isn’t even the coolest delivery the party gets that week.  Two days later there is another knock on the Greenhouse door during lunch, which interrupts Flicker complaining that _he_ didn’t get a key to the Undermen’s vault.

Eddings again opens the door, but isn’t sure what to make of what he sees in the street.  The others come over at his request, and they behold what appears to be a hovering scarecrow with fly-wings.   It’s holding a wooden box about three feet on a side.  As the Company watches, a small twig emerges from the scarecrow’s head, and there are small pieces of paper affixed to the twig.   It dangles the papers in front of its own eyes, seeming to stare at them for a few seconds.  Then the whole thing dissolves into a pile of loose straw, the box landing with a thump in the street and the papers fluttering down after.  

The papers, it turns out, have crude sketches of each of the Company on them.  

Suspicion is high, and some in the Company note that the box is just the right size for a torso.   Flicker makes a tasteless joke about Levec Oldbarrow.   Neither the box nor its contents detect as magical.  Ernie casts _augury_ and learns that opening the box will bring “weal.”  

Dranko pries open the container and discovers three things inside.  One is a dark green book with a strange symbol on the cover.  One is a chunk of rough white quartz about the size of a baseball.  The third is an envelope with a wax seal bearing the same symbol as the book.

The inside of the crate was also lined with lead; the book and crystal now both radiate significant magic.   Dranko tears open the envelope to find a letter written in a scratchy hand and an unfamiliar language.  One _comprehend languages_ later he is reading the letter to his friends.

_“It seems you folks did okay, and more than okay.  I’m enclosing a couple of old things from my storeroom, gifts in gratitude for freeing us multitudes from the web of Slices.   Before you utter the command word for the lucent tower, stand well back, and don’t use it indoors!  The commands are simple:  “crystal rise,” and “crystal fall.”   The book goes one page at a time, and anyone can use it.  I’ve a feeling that folks in your line of work will find good uses for these things, more than an old retired wizard with his time nearly expired. 

Sincerely, 
Chiswick._

The book is one of “infinite” spells – Dranko flips the front cover and finds the first incantation is _shout_.

There is a bit of moist-eyed reminiscing about the old wizard Chiswick, encountered in the Eye of the Storm back in Het Branoi.  He had been exceedingly old, and the timeless nature of the Slices had given him many extra years he had not expected to enjoy.   But soon enough thought turns to the Lucent Tower, and Ernie takes the others on his newly-acquired carpet to an empty field outside the city walls.

Dranko tosses the chunk of quartz onto the ground, uttering “Crystal Rise.”  It immediately starts to grow in the fashion of an expanding crystal, rising upward until, within a few seconds, it has formed into a pearlescent tower almost 30’ high and 20’ in diameter.  It comes to a point at the top, just above four balconies set high up in the walls.  Down at ground level a doorway appears.  Dranko slowly pushes it open.

Inside the Lucent Tower it is cool.  It also _looks_ cool, an effect of the blue-white light that filters through the walls.   The boots of the Company echo on the hard marble floor.  The most notable feature of the Tower is its lack of features; the entire interior is one huge space.  There are no stairs (or other means to reach the balconies), no furnishings, no objects at all, save for four wooden “handles” that sprout from the walls at the four compass points, about three feet off the ground.  These handles don’t look _entirely_ solid, as if they’re part substance and part illusion.  Aravis reaches out and grasps one, discovering that it feels much the same – _almost_ solid, but not quite.   It doesn’t move at all.

Dranko grabs one and thinks about a chair on the floor next to him.  Silently a chair appears matching the image in his mind.  When he releases the handle, the chair remains.  Aravis imagines a spiral marble staircase leading up to the balconies, and there it is.  Both staircase and chair share the semi-physical nature of the handles, but are solid enough to bear human weight.  

Ernie grabs a third handle and thinks:  “fully equipped kitchen!”  It appears off to the side.  He realizes that his mental image of the kitchen was incomplete – it’s missing some shelves and a spice rack – but even as he realizes these things, they fill themselves in.   Dranko grabs a wooden spoon and walks out of the Tower with it; it melts away to nothingness as he crosses the threshold.  

He comes back in, grips a handle, and thinks: “big pile of treasure.”  There it is:  coins, jewels, gems, crowns, the works.   He does the only sensible thing, and dives into the heap.

A bit more experimentation reveals the following:  

-	Semi-illusionary food can be created, and even eaten, but it vanishes from the throat when swallowed
-	Only the person who activated the Lucent Tower can open and close the door
-	It’s unwise to keep hold of the tower in closed form when activating it.  

Dranko learns that last one by direct empirical testing, though his stellar reflexes and tumbling skills spare him any actual harm.

...to be continued


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 280b*_
*Dreams, Deliveries, Disease and Doctrine *


Before meeting with Rhiavonne in Kallor, Morningstar travels to Kynder Hold to see her parents.  Dranko, her husband, goes with her.  They arrive at dusk, hoping to catch her mother at home.  

Morningstar’s mother and father – Domira and Rodvin – are delighted by the visit.  Morningstar wonders how she’s going to break the news to them.   What she ends up doing is babbling.

“We have some news.  We didn’t think we’d be gone so long, but it turns out that we were gone longer than we though we had been, and when were there, we... we got married.”

There’s a second or two of awkward silence; Dranko leaps to fill it.

“I know it’s a little late,” he says to Rodvin, “and after the fact and all, but I would be honored if you would give me the hand of your daughter in marriage.”

As Morningstar’s father nods, bewildered, her mother blurts out: “You got married, and you didn’t invite us?”

“We’re really sorry!” says Morningstar.  “It’s complicated.  We weren’t technically on this plane.”

“Plane?” asks Domira.

“Of existence,” adds Dranko.  

“We couldn’t get back,” says Morningstar.  “There was a big enemy plot, and we had to stop them.  For us, we were gone almost a year.”

“Time moved differently there,” says Dranko.

“You were off on another world, fighting evil,” says Domira.  “I at least understand that much.”

“It was very dangerous,” says Morningstar.  “And we weren’t sure about the whole ‘getting back’ thing, so we decided to get married, in case... you know....”

“In case something bad happened,” says Domira.

“And by ‘something bad,’ you mean ‘get killed,’ adds Dranko helpfully.

“But you didn’t,” says Domira, and, having finally accepted her daughter’s reasoning, she breaks into a grin.  “And here you are. Congratulations!  And don’t you worry – we’ll have another marriage ceremony now that you’re back, for your friends and family who might have missed the first one.”

Morningstar smiles back, but she can’t keep the worry off of her face.  Her meeting with Rhiavonne is fast approaching.  Domira notices immediately.

“I’d expect you to be happier,” she says.  “Something else is bothering you, isn’t it.”

“She’s going to be talking to the High Priestess in Kallor,” says Dranko.

“The High Priestess Rhiavonne?” says Domira, surprised.  “Well, dear, you are strong in the faith of Ell.”

“More than you know,” says Dranko.   “But she and Rhiavonne are sometimes at loggerheads.  They might have an... argument.”

“Rhiavonne decided to disband the Illuminated Sisters while I was gone,” says Morningstar.

“Yes, I heard,” says Domira.  “I wondered about that.  But we’re having a wedding ceremony, whatever Rhiavonne says to you.”

She smiles encouragingly at Morningstar, who can’t help but smile back.

“I’m honored to be a part of your family,” says Dranko.

“I’m sure that the church... appreciates you, for all that you’ve done,” says Domira.  Then, speaking more to Dranko and Rodvin, she says with clear pride in her voice, “I know that my daughter can do things many other sisters cannot, a sure sign of Ell’s favor.  It’s time they understood just what she does for them, how important she is to them.”

“Thank you,” says Morningstar, grateful.  “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about all this.”

“I’m still not sure how I feel,” says Domira.  “I’ve never quite understood this whole ‘Illuminated Sisters’ business you’re involved in.  But Ell is Ell, and if people want to serve Her, they will, and if she wants to bless them, She will.   If your faith is strong, and your works are good, I don’t think Ell will mind the rest.”

“I wish more priests of Delioch were like this,” Dranko mutters under his breath.

“I did a _commune_,” says Morningstar, “and She didn’t seem to mind.”

Domira can’t help but laugh. “Do you see how she tosses that off?” she says to her husband.  “’Oh, yes, the other day, when I was talking with Ell...’”

“She chats with angels,” confirms Dranko.  Morningstar turns red.

“What did She say?” asks Domira.  “Did She say ‘hi?’”

“She said I did a good job,” says Morningstar.

“See?” says Domira.  “You can say about me, ‘oh, I’m just your mom,’ but you can’t say that about Ell.   If She thinks you’re doing a good job, I daresay you are.”

“I didn’t seek the Illuminated Sisters out, they came to me,” says Morningstar.  

“But they needed you,” says Domira.  “They needed you to teach them.”

“Yes, for a task that’s not yet over,” says Morningstar.  “So we can’t let them be disbanded.”

“So you just tell Rhiavonne that.”

“That’s what I’ll do.”  There is now more resolve than doubt in Morningstar’s voice.  “And I’ll ask that there be Daywalkers, just as there are Dreamwalkers, who will be able to withstand the light.”

Morningstar goes to church with her mother while Dranko stays behind to swap stories with Rodvin.   After services Morningstar seeks out her old combat trainer, Clariel.   They talk for a while, and then Clariel offers to spar, to see how Morningstar has progressed.  She is astounded at her pupil’s martial prowess. 

“How did you learn so many fighting techniques?” she asks.

“Mostly from having them used on me,” says Morningstar modestly. 

“I’d love to learn more,” says Clariel.  “How long will you be back in Kynder Hold?”

“I have to leave in just a few minutes,” says Morningstar.

“Off on another adventure?”

“Of a sort.”  


* *


Morningstar’s meeting with the High Priestess Rhiavonne is at 1:00 A.M.   As has been the case in previous meetings, the old priestess is standing with her back to the door, staring out a large window into the blackness of Kallor.   She turns as Morningstar enters her office, looking older than Morningstar recalls, and more tired.   But despite the extra lines in her weathered face, and shoulders that seem more stooped, the High Priestess still radiates an unmistakable piety and power.  Her expression is unreadable.

“Please, sit down.” She motions Morningstar toward a chair.  “You wished to have an audience.  Here we are.  Would you like to speak first?”

Morningstar clears her throat.  “Do you know what happened?  Where I was?”

“I’ve heard things,” admits Rhiavonne.  “That you’ve traveled to the past.”

“That is true,” says Morningstar.  “But not initially.”

While Rhiavonne listens with unwavering attention, Morningstar briefs her on her recent adventures, starting with the Sharshun plot to change history.   She talks of the Emperor, and how he had never been banished.  Unlike Lucas, the old priestess actually seems to understand the contortions of time involved.  

Morningstar goes on to explain Het Branoi as plainly as she can, and how, with the Eyes of Moirel, they went back in time to preserve history.

“I presume that the very fact of our current discussion means you succeeded in going back in time, and preventing history from being rewritten after all,” says Rhiavonne, nodding.  “And then you managed to come back to our own time.   It sounds like you have had quite the adventure... and the details help explain some... odd... answers to _commune_ questions posed by some of our sisters.  

“And now you’re back.”

“Yes,” says Morningstar.  She ventures a smile.  “To be a thorn in your side once more.”

Rhiavonne looks up at her, a glint in her eyes.  “I think the days of you being a thorn in my side are just about over.”

Morningstar cannot hide her dismay.   She braces for excommunication.  

“Don’t look so dour,” says Rhiavonne, seeing Morningstar’s crestfallen look.  “I don’t mean what you think I do.  Let me explain.

“There is a rule about being High Priestess of Ell, a rule with which you are unfamiliar.  You know that Ell greatly values our independence, our freedom to make our own decisions.  When one is the High Priestess of Ell, one may make only questioning assay into the mind of the Goddess, only one _commune_ in her natural life.  I had never used mine.  I always intended to cast it at the end, to pose questions about my successor, to make sure things would be in good hands when I was gone.  I won’t be able to do that now, because when I heard that you were back, and considering some of the details that had reached my ears, I knew I had to have answers.  I had reached a more important fork in the road.  So I asked questions of Ell.  Do you want to know what she said?”

Morningstar nods.  

“I have a clear memory of my discussion with Ell.  I’m not going to share all of my questions; some of them were personal, and don’t involve you.  Here are the rest. 

I asked that if I allow Daywalking to become prevalent in the church, will that lead to the eventual failure of the church as predicted in the allegory I shared with you in this very room.  The answer was:  *Only without eternal vigilance.*

I asked if I should elevate you to a position of higher authority within the church.  She said:  *She will find your own place.*

I asked if she would be angry if I upheld the excommunication of the Illuminated Sisters, and let them find their own way in Her eyes.  She said *No.  They would still serve Her.*

I asked if she would be angry if I altered the policies of the church sanctioning _all_ sisters to walk freely beneath the sun.  She said:  *Less angry than disappointed.*

I asked if you really did speak to her in the past.  You know what she said.

I asked if her desires for the church had changed since she spoke with you.   She said that her desire for a strong church has never changed.  I’m not sure quite what to make of that answer.  I have a feeling there’s as much in what she didn’t say, as in what she did. 

I asked if you are acting for the betterment of the church, more so than for your own personal gain.   The answer was *Yes, she is as faithful as you.*

I asked of the same could be said of Amber.   The answer was *No.  For her, Power and Piety are of equal weight.*

When I asked if I should remove her from power, even if I did continue to sanction the Illuminated Sisters to operate in daylight, she said:  *She has great potential.*

I asked:  You chose Morningstar for the task of defeating Naradawk’s dream-soldiers.   Must she continue her vigilance regardless of my choices?   The answer was: *It would be prudent.*

I asked if there were still enemy agents of the Black Circle within the church of Ell, here in Kallor.  *No, not in Kallor.*

Elsewhere then?  The answer was yes.”

Rhiavonne finishes her recitation.  She looks thoughtful.  She looks at Morningstar.

“What do you propose?” she asks.

“I know that my task is not done, that Octesian is still out there,” says Morningstar.  “I have asked Ell: when Octesian is defeated, will the need for dreamwalkers trained in the light during my generation be fulfilled.  The answer was:  *Likely? Yes. Certain?  No.*

“So, my thought is, I would like to create a group of Daywalkers, just as there are Dreamwalkers now.   They would be of limited number, but they could withstand the daylight when needed.”

“A new order,” murmurs Rhiavonne. 

“ I would propose that they would not stay in the daylight all the time,” continues Morningstar, “but would work there in shifts.   I would also propose that the Illuminated Sisters be the first group of Daywalkers, and have them spread throughout the various temples of Charagan.  This would help all sisters see who they are, and what they do.

“I do not agree with all the tenets of the Illuminated Sisters, and never have.  But I think we need to be able to withstand all threats, and I think that’s particularly important now that Posada’s Boundary is down.  Dralla is an extremely powerful force in Kivia; people have good reason to fear the night there.”

Rhiavonne fixes Morningstar with a steely gaze.  

“I will tell you, Morningstar of Ell, Child of Light, that I will follow your suggestion, given what I now know.   There will be a new order of Sisters, and they shall be called Daywalkers, and they will train beneath the sun.  

“But I ask this of you in return:  that you take the time, when you have it, to write your memoirs of your time in the past.  I want the words you spoke to Ell, and that she spoke to you, written as holy text and added to the canon.  I want you to write, in whatever manner you see fit, a work that will become required reading for all novices, that they will remember why we have Daywalkers, why they are the exception, and what role they will serve, and the dangers of following that path too far.  ‘Eternal Vigilance,’ Ell advised.   I deem the way to make that happen is to be sure none stay with the Church of Ell without hearing those words for themselves.  Will you do this?”

“Of course,” says Morningstar.  

“Then it shall be done.  And Amber will accept it, since she will not like the alternative.  I will invent a position for her that will be to her liking.  And then this chapter of division within the church will come to a close.  There will be grumbling, and a backlash, but if we manage things correctly that will subside, and we will be stronger for it.”

Rhiavonne’s eyes flash a dark fire.

“And when this Octesian comes back, you will throw him down.”

A bell rings out in the church, and Rhiavonne’s ardor subsides.  Again she looks tired, old.  “Would you care to join me for prayers?”

“I would like nothing better,” says Morningstar.

“Then let us retire.”


* *


More weeks pass, bringing more changes, and a tying up of loose ends.   With much regret Yoba finally takes her leave of the Company, needing to return to her home of Evergreen.  Her duties as Commander of the Southern Border will wait no longer.   Ernie casts the _plane shift_ himself, accompanying her and staying a few days longer than is strictly necessary.  They depart with promises of many _sendings_ and visits whenever possible.

When he returns, he takes upon himself the unpleasant task of flying to Kay’s family farm.  He tells her parents and brothers of her great bravery and her role in saving the world from disaster.  As for where she is now? 

“She stayed behind to continue the fight,” he says carefully.  “She’s still alive, but may not be back for quite some time.” 

 Her family seems to understand at least that much, and Ernie is disinclined to try explaining parallel dimensions.

Soon after, the Company loses the last of its temporary members.  Snokas approaches Morningstar one day, looking sheepish.

“I uh... now, don’t take this the wrong way.  It’s been an honor serving you, and I don’t regret a second of it.  But... uh... well, I want to _learn_ more.  I’ve learned a lot traveling with you, and I appreciate it.   Ell wanted me to protect you, and I have.”  

He looks especially embarrassed as he adds:  “I want to spend a while in the library.”

Dranko snorts.

“Hey, shut up!” snaps Snokas.  “I’ve been working on my reading skills, and I want to read more about Ell.  They have a really good library here in Tal Hae, so I figured I’d spend a few months educating myself.”

He looks nervously at Morningstar.  “Do you think it’ll be all right, given that I’m a... you know, a guy?”

Morningstar  laughs.  “I’m sure it’s okay.”

“It means I won’t have your back for a while,” says Snokas.

“Go,” says Morningstar.  “I think you’re going where you’re being called, and that’s very important.”

“Yeah,” says Snokas.  “Thanks.”


* *

At the same time the Company is crafting magic items, they also get around to setting aside piles of treasure for those who helped them defeat the Cleaners in Het Branoi.  Through a series of _sendings_ and _plane shifts_, they make good on their promises to reward Ox, Kiro and Cashbox Jack from the Eye of the Storm.

They also take some time to write out full reports of their recent adventure, for delivery to the Spire.  Ozilinsh still marvels at the account and is a stickler for detail.  He also fills the Company in on what’s happened in their absence.   Royce, Glade and Wellington had cleaned out another Black Circle bestiary that had become Unmasked, just before the party’s return.   The brother-sister team of Jerzembeck and Junaya, together with their adventuring group, have been tracking down and eliminating enemies who fled the Battle of Verdshane.  There has been no sign of Cencerra or Rosetta, nor of Tor or Meledien.  No progress has been made in discovering the murderers of Grawly and Thewana.  And neither hide nor hair nor _simulacrum_ has been seen of Parthol Runecarver.

The rash – or Curse of Dralla – grows steadily worse over time.  Each week it afflicts more and more of the Company, and it covers more of their bodies.  More troubling, it starts to cause ability score loss – charisma and constitution are both affected.  Still, since a daily battery of _restorations_ can keep the effects at bay, the Company guts it out and finishes their full slate of item crafting.  


* *

At last the day comes when all the loose ends have been tied up, and the Company decides it’s time to make the journey to Kivia.  Dranko makes sure to tell Lucas where he’s going.

“And now that Posada’s Boundary is no more,” says Lucas, “you’ll be able to make regular reports.”

“As long as they’re twenty-five words or less,” says Dranko.

“Excellent,” says Lucas.  “Though, regrettably, it means you’ll be unable to grace your communiqués with your usual colorful lingo.”

“Actually, it’ll be Morningstar sending the _sendings_.”

Lucas grins.  “This is getting better all the time.”

“I like him,” says Grey Wolf.

With that taken care of, the wizards prepare to _teleport_ to Djaw.  Next up:  a reckoning with Shreen the Fair.

...to be continued...


----------



## el-remmen

Can someone remind who/what "Octesian" is?  

I have no recollection.

Reading this update made me wish there was an Abernathy's Company wiki. . .  

But great stuff as usual, I like how the PCs have an effect of the world's organizations.


----------



## coyote6

This:



			
				Sagiro said:
			
		

> Four nights later, each member of the Company has an intensely vivid dream.   It is the same dream for all of them, and what they dream is this:
> 
> _There is only blue.  Above, the sky stretches clear, and below, the ocean lies calm like a sheet of cerulean glass.
> 
> On the surface of the sea there are ships, two sets of three, facing each other across a half-mile of calm water.   The three ships facing west display the holy symbol of Posada, Kivian God of the Sea.  The three ships facing east fly the flags of Charagan and of Brechen.
> 
> One of the ships under Brechen’s symbol is familiar;  Makel Troutman is its captain.
> 
> A whirlpool starts to form, slowly, its center exactly between the two groups of ships.  Over time it expands, growing loud and vigorous and deep.   The ships make no move to escape the vortex, and so inexorably they are sucked in; around and around they sweep, tilting ever more steeply as the whirlpool draws them into its heart.   After a time made immeasurable by the nature of dreams the ships plummet downward and out of sight, into the depths of the Uncrossable Sea,  their banners and crews lost forever, sacrifices sealing an accord between bitter Divine rivals._
> 
> The Company awakes, and they, like every citizen of Charagan and Kivia alike, understand instinctively what has changed.  The Uncrossable Sea is uncrossable no more.




= Totally Badass™.


----------



## weiknarf

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Can someone remind who/what "Octesian" is?




Red armor guy.  Hangs out in the Dreamscape.  Has a sword that can kill dreamwalkers.


----------



## energy_One

el-remmen said:
			
		

> Can someone remind who/what "Octesian" is?
> 
> I have no recollection.
> 
> Reading this update made me wish there was an Abernathy's Company wiki. . .
> 
> But great stuff as usual, I like how the PCs have an effect of the world's organizations.




I hearby challenge you, el-remmen, to create an Abernathy's Company wiki.


----------



## darkhall-nestor

http://home.comcast.net/~dorian.hart/charagan.html

not a wiki but there is a lot of info


----------



## el-remmen

energy_One said:
			
		

> I hearby challenge you, el-remmen, to create an Abernathy's Company wiki.




Um, as much as I would love to volunteer for such a project my own homebrew wiki and life in general makes such a task impossible for me to undertake.  Anyway, wikis work best when you have a group of people contributing.




			
				darkhall nestor said:
			
		

> http://home.comcast.net/~dorian.hart/charagan.html
> 
> not a wiki but there is a lot of info




Yep, I been to that site before, informative, though not as convenient with cross-references as a wiki.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Sagiro - would it be possible to get a list of the items that the company made during this break?

This would also be a great time to get an idea of the Company's levels, if that'd be OK.

Thanks for another great update - I'm sure I'm not alone in saying that the RP-heavy sessions are just as entertaining as the combat-heavy ones, often more!


----------



## Sagiro

Tallarn said:
			
		

> Sagiro - would it be possible to get a list of the items that the company made during this break?




The story hour currently lags behind the game by about 20 runs, or 2.5 years.  Unless the items are specifically mentioned on the next tape or two, I'm not sure how I'd figure it out.  



			
				Tallarn said:
			
		

> This would also be a great time to get an idea of the Company's levels, if that'd be OK.




I'm pretty sure the average party member was about 15th level at that point in the story.

For the record:  my next session, scheduled for early May, will be the 211th of the campaign.   The party is currently all 17th level.  That means the party has leveled about once every 13 games over the life of the campaign.  

Another way:  the game has been running about 150 months, which means, on average, we've played 1.41 times per month, and the PC's have leveled about once every 9 months.  

-Sagiro


----------



## Sagiro

darkhall-nestor said:
			
		

> http://home.comcast.net/~dorian.hart/charagan.html
> 
> not a wiki but there is a lot of info



That site is hopelessly out of date.  I used to update it back before I had kids, but now I just don't have the time.  Consult it at your own risk!

-Sagiro


----------



## Joshua Randall

Hot damn I love this story.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Sagiro said:
			
		

> The story hour currently lags behind the game by about 20 runs, or 2.5 years.  Unless the items are specifically mentioned on the next tape or two, I'm not sure how I'd figure it out.
> 
> I'm pretty sure the average party member was about 15th level at that point in the story.




Ah, OK. In that case, consider my request rescinded. 

Hmmm...now I'm looking forward to the party getting regular access to 9th level spells...


----------



## Vargo

I think the idea of Dranko with 9th level spells is a very scary idea.


----------



## Sagiro

Vargo said:
			
		

> I think the idea of Dranko with 9th level spells is a very scary idea.



I'm sure you're not the only one who thinks that, but I doubt it will ever happen.  Only 4 or 5 of Dranko's levels are in Cleric.  The other 12 or 13 are in Rogue and Lasher.


----------



## KidCthulhu

Vargo said:
			
		

> I think the idea of Dranko with 9th level spells is a very scary idea.




I don't know why it's so scary.  He'd cast _Miracle_ to surround himself in treasure and be crushed under his own greed.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> I don't know why it's so scary.  He'd cast _Miracle_ to surround himself in treasure and be crushed under his own greed.




Whereas Ernie would just use it to provide the *Greatest. Meal. Evar!*


----------



## Piratecat

KidCthulhu said:
			
		

> I don't know why it's so scary.  He'd cast _Miracle_ to surround himself in treasure and be crushed under his own greed.



I'm totally okay with this.


----------



## Joshua Randall

*shakes head sadly*

That's just how my father went.

*sniffle*


----------



## KidCthulhu

Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> *shakes head sadly*
> 
> That's just how my father went.
> 
> *sniffle*




Did you at least inherit the loot?


----------



## Sagiro

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 280b*_
*Meow Down Before Him*


Posada’s Boundary may now be fully permeable, but the actual distance in miles is such that a normal _teleport_ is insufficient.  Since Aravis is the only mage with _greater teleport_, he is obliged to take the spell three times and ferry the Company in shifts.   As he prepares to cast, he remarks, “We should visit Lord Dafron in Mirj while we’re over there.”

“Why would we do that?” asks Ernie, making a face.

“Because it will make him feel _very_ uncomfortable,” says Aravis with a wicked grin.

A minute later, the party is standing outside the massive gates of Djaw – no special magical rope needed, and with no perilous dashes through the Delfirian Arch.   It’s early March, but still warm.  Some of that is geographic – Djaw is warm most of the year – and some is because, while it was mid-morning when they left Charagan, it’s mid-afternoon in central Kivia.  

A short line of trader wagons is ahead of them in the line to enter the city.   The air is filled with unfamiliar smells that bring back the wonder of Djaw, greatest city in the known world and the seat of culture, commerce and military might in Kivia.   But just ahead of the Company is a reminder of the civilization’s darker side; a dwarven slave attends a wealthy spice-merchant, a red iron collar clamped around his neck.  Kibi glowers.  

Ernie is still chomping at the bit to enter the city gates.  He’s been lusting after the spiced chicken sticks sold in many of Djaw’s outdoor markets, and is so excited at the prospect that he asks the gate guards if they happen to have any  -- you know, just maybe sitting around.  

“I haven’t seen you this happy since Yoba went home,” observes Dranko.

Kibi frowns, watching the dwarven slave ahead get led into the city.  “How can you like this place so much?” he mutters.  

The guards don’t stop him as he pays for his visiting papers just like everyone else.  Still, when they look at him askance, he gives them a withering glare in return, almost daring them to say something.   Morningstar puts a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll take care of it,” she says, referring to the Guild of Chains.  “But the best way to do that is not to draw attention to ourselves.”

Kibi shrugs his shoulder out from beneath her hand.  “I’m just walking around,” he says angrily, “minding my own business.”  

They emerge into the city proper, glittering white buildings lining the clean streets,  urbane locals in their gauzy robes going about their daily business.  Kibi notes that while dwarves are scarce, the few he sees are all slaves.

“You’re the only free dwarf in sight,” says Morningstar, pressing the point.  “That’s calling attention to yourself.  I understand that your pride is...”

“I am  _not_ wearing a collar,” snarls Kibi.  

“I would never suggest that,” says Morningstar.  “But, we can make you look like a human...”

“Or I can look like a free dwarf,” says Kibi, “which maybe is something they should get used to around here.”

“And if anyone has a problem with it, they can go through me,” says Ernie. 

“And me,” adds Grey Wolf.

“And me,” says Aravis.

Morningstar sighs.  “Getting bogged down fighting these little battles isn’t going to help the dwarves in the long run.”

“Let’s just go to the Church of Kemma first," says Ernie.  "They can tell us whether it’s okay for dwarves to walk around free these days.  Maybe it’s not a problem at all.”

Morningstar _sends_ to One Shining Mirror, the High Priest of the Sun Goddess Kemma and leader of One Certain Step’s church.   They’ve spoken with him in the past, and hope for wisdom on Shreen and Dralla, as well as insight about the dwarves.  The answer comes back that Mirror is indisposed for the rest of the day, but that he would be pleased to meet with them tomorrow.   That leaves them free agents for the remainder of the day.

“I think we need to celebrate,” says Ernie suddenly.   When the others look at him curiously, he continues:  “That we can teleport across the sea.  And that time is restored...”

And here he can’t help but grin widely, as he spills some beans from his last trip to Evergreen.

“...and that Yoba agreed to marry me!”

There are hearty and exuberant congratulations all around, though  Dranko can’t help leering.

“So,” says the half-orc, “Did you... you know...?”

Ernie just stares.  When Morningstar gives him a burning glare, Dranko backpedals a bit.  “I mean, how did you ask her?”

“It’s kind of personal, Dranko,” says Ernie.

Dranko gives him a pat on the back.  “Well, I’m proud of you.”

Ernie smirks.  “Well, I figured, if _you_ could get married...”

“Go ahead,” dares Dranko.  “Finish that sentence.”

Ernie doesn’t say anything, but Flicker’s happy to jump in.

“If you could get married, then even a blind weasel could get lucky and tie the knot!”

A deft wrist-flick later and Flicker is lying on his backside, a whip curled around his ankle.

“So,” says Ernie, ignoring this last exchange, “I say we stay in the finest inn in Djaw!”

 It’s the consensus of several passersby that the finest inn in Djaw is the Golden Goblet, located in the ritziest part of the city, not many blocks from the immense limestone and marble palace of the Emperor, One Supreme Intellect.  Aravis is keen to visit the Court of Cats en route, so they take a meandering route, admiring the architecture and breathing in the exotic scents.  Ernie eats about a half-dozen spiced chicken sticks. 

The Company is approached just outside the Court of Cats by a Falcon – one of the omnipresent and imposing city guardsmen of Djaw.  The Falcons are rumored to be able to see into men’s souls and note the guilt or innocence reflected therein.  

The Falcon walks directly to Kibi.  

“You’re not wearing your collar,” he says flatly.

As Kibi flourishes his papers, Ernie steps forward.

“He’s not a slave.  He’s a free dwarf.”

“Are you aware that Posada’s Boundary is down?” adds Morningstar.

“I shared the same dream as everyone else,” acknowledges the guard.

“In Charagan,” says Morningstar, “dwarves are a free people.”

The Falcon smiles.  “Very well.  His papers are in order.  If you can vouch for him, that’s good enough for me.  As you were.”

He walks off.  

“We have to do something about the Guild of Chains,” says Grey Wolf.

“Don’t worry Kibi,” adds Ernie.  “I know we’ll find a way to free the dwarves of Kivia.”


* *


The Court of Cats is a huge open-air plaza surrounded by cafes and shops.  It is filled with fountains, benches, and numerous tables and chairs.  It is also the home to hundreds of cats, prowling the place for attention and scraps of food.   Built right into the flagstones are numerous small bowls, and the human denizens of Djaw make a ritual of keeping these filled with meat and milk.  It’s no wonder the place is such a feline hot-spot.  

As happened the last time, Aravis becomes a cat-magnet the moment he arrives.  Dozens of felines start milling around his legs, rubbing against him and meowing loudly.   One even jumps up on Aravis’s shoulder, but Pewter chases her off.

“Only one familiar per wizard!” he hisses.  Then, to Aravis, he adds:  “The cats don’t seem to know exactly _why_ you’re so interesting, just that you are.”

All of this inspires the party to learn more.  Encouraged by the success of _legend lore_ in revealing the cause of the Mystery Rash, Kibi casts the same spell on Aravis himself over the course of the next few minutes.  When the spell is over, Kibi’s eyes bulge and his jaw drops.  Already a bit jealous of Aravis in the wizarding department, Kibi grumbles:  “Does Aravis have to hear this?”

“Why?” asks Aravis.

“Well, just don’t let your head get more swollen than it already is,” says Kibi.  The spell produced the following:

_He, a Prison Guard

He, a Wizards’ Bane

He, a Feline God

He, a Universe_

A feline God?!

“If you want to get a swollen head,” says Pewter, “I wouldn’t blame you one bit.”

Ernie can’t help but laugh.  “I, for one, will not be worshipping you.  I’m spoken for.”

“But we can add a shrine to you back at Longtooth Keep,” says Grey Wolf.

“Hey!” says Flicker.  “If I worship you, will you grant me spells?”

“I don’t know,” says Aravis.  “Do you truly believe in Me?”

“Sure!” assures Flicker.  “All hail the almighty Aravis!”

“Your first follower,” sighs Morningstar.

“Actually,” says Grey Wolf soberly, “This would explain why the rats are so concerned about you.”

The cats continue to swarm around Aravis’s feet.  “I’m sorry,” he tells them.  “I don’t have any miracles for you at the moment.”


* *

The Golden Goblet is the very epitome of posh.   Its main three-story edifice is surrounded by numerous outbuildings scattered over a several-acre property.   The landscaping is impeccable, with lush green lawns that are a rarity in Djaw, fountains, marbled walks and colorful flower gardens.   Private guards are discretely placed, implying safety without making the place seem like a fortress.

Ernie takes a deep and contented breath as they approach the main doors.  

“It’s a whole week I don’t have to cook!” he says happily.

“I thought you loved to cook,” says Dranko.  “Isn’t cooking like praying for you?  Are you saying you want to go a week without praying?”

“Ernie didn’t say he wasn’t _going_ to cook,” says Flicker.  “Just that he doesn’t _have_ to cook.  Don’t you see?  When you have to do something you love, it can start to feel like a job.”

“Whoa,” says Aravis. “That came from Flicker?”

“Yeah,” says Flicker sheepishly.  “I guess that was my flash of insight for the year.”

“It comes from worshipping Aravis,” says Grey Wolf.

“That’s right!” exclaims Aravis.  “My first miracle!”

An elegant (if slightly rotund) commissionaire greets them at the door.

“Welcome to the Golden Goblet,” he says expansively.  

“I would like to reserve rooms for me and my friends for a week,” says Ernie.

“Of course.  And how many of you are there?”

“Seven,” says Ernie.  

The doorman does a quick headcount and only gets to six.

“One of my companions is a free-born dwarf,” says Ernie, keeping his voice polite and formal.  “From the Kingdom of Charagan.”

“Charagan?” asks the doorman.

“As you may know,” says Ernie, “Posada’s Boundary has fallen, and the Uncrossable Sea is now crossable.”

“Yes, I know,” says the doorman.  “There has been much speculation about the lands beyond.”

“That’s where we’re from,” says Ernie.

“Such an honor!” exclaims the commissionaire.  “And it is a special honor to meet _you_, master dwarf.   Seven of you then.  And you’d like a week?  That will be 700 Miracs.”

From their previous visit to Djaw they have some miracs rattling around in their bags of holding, enough for a downpayment on the rooms.   They get seven rooms in total; with Dranko and Morningstar sharing a bed, the seventh will serve as a smoking room for Dranko and Flicker.

“Please make yourselves comfortable, while we prepare your rooms,” says the doorman.   “If you have any needs, our serving staff will attend to you without delay.”

“And you are...?” asks Dranko.

“My name is Balthazar,” says the man, bowing.

“You’re not “One something something?” asks Dranko.

“I’m not originally from Djaw,” says Balthazar.  “But I find it much nicer to be here than Mirj.”

This elicits great sympathy from the Company.

The waiting area is gorgeous – wonderful padded sofas and chairs arrayed around a fountain and illuminated by colored lanterns.  A huge platter of honeyed dates is brought in, along with perfectly-brewed tea.   Morningstar turns to her husband and asks, “When you were renting from Berthel, did you ever imagine you’d be staying somewhere like this?”

Dranko just grins at her.  “Say, think anyone would mind if a stripped down and bathed in that fountain?”

Especially given that there are half-dozen other patrons in the lounge, the rest of the party talks him out of it.

“Let’s try not to get thrown out on the very first night,” suggests Grey Wolf.

That sets off a minute or two of fond reminiscing about inns around the world that have suffered serious damage during Company stays.  They count at least four:  The Eye of the Storm in Het Branoi, the Singing Sickle in Mirj, the Victory in Tev, and the Shadow Chaser in Verdshane.  The other guests glance over nervously at the conversation.

A pretty serving girl approaches after a few minutes of this. 

“Your rooms are ready,” she says.  “Will you be dining with us tonight?  And if so, would you prefer a private dining room?”

“We’ll dine in the public room tonight,” says Dranko.  “But let’s plan on a private room tomorrow night.”

“Is there a dress code?” asks Morningstar.

“I would expect you to look clean and presentable,” says the servant. “According to your own custom, of course.  Do you wish any refreshment sent to your rooms in the meantime?”

“Yes,” says Dranko immediately.  “And a bottle of wine would be nice.  Whatever your wine steward thinks good – I’m sure he has impeccable taste.”

The servant leads them outside and along a shaded stone path to an outbuilding surrounded by perfectly-manicured hedges.   Inside – oh, the rooms!  Each is enormous, with a full-sized feather bed, complete furnishings and magically-heated bathtubs.  They have carpets so thick you could comfortably sleep on them were anything to happen to the beds.   On bedside tables are pitchers of lime-flavored water next to plates heaped with sweet grapes. 

There is a knock on Dranko’s door; a servant has arrived with his wine.  

“Your wine, sir.  Tevian vintage.”

The servant uncorks the bottle, and Dranko makes a show of smelling it, pressing one nostril shut while sniffing with the other.

His finger sticks.  Try as he might, he can’t remove it from his pushed-in nose.  It feels like something has glued it there.  The servant looks at him curiously.  Dranko turns a bit red before dismissing her with his free hand.  

“Flicker!”

Flicker and Morningstar come rushing into the room.  

“Finger stuck to nose!” says Dranko.  “Very annoyed!”

Flicker tries hard not to laugh.  “What do you want me to do about it?” he asks.

“Did you have anything to do with this?” asks Morningstar.

“And remember,” says Dranko.  “Before you answer, you shouldn’t be thinking of me as good ‘ol Dranko who’s having a practical joke played on him, but as a man whose wife can cast _firestorm_."

“I swear!” says Flicker.  “I don’t know why your finger is stuck to your nose!”

“Can you find out for me?” asks Dranko.  “I’m thinking Grey Wolf, but I have to consider Aravis or Kibi too.”

“I’ll make some inquiries,” says Flicker, who can’t help laughing out loud at this point.

“That would be great,” grumbles Dranko.  “I’ll...uh...just stick around here then.”

With his free hand, Dranko casts _detect magic_, but neither the bottle nor cork are radiating enchantment.

Flicker finds Aravis eating grapes in his room.  “Aravis, Dranko’s finger is stuck to his nose.  You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“His what?” asks Aravis, not sure if he heard right.  “His finger is stuck to his nose?”

“Yeah,” says Flicker.  “And he’s going to blame me unless I find out who did it!”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“I didn’t do it, I swear!”

Aravis puts his own finger to his nose and walks into Dranko’s room.  Kibi hears the commotion and comes along as well.

“You too, huh?” asks Dranko, seeing Aravis.

Aravis casually removes his finger, prompting a growl from Dranko.   

“How did this happen?” asks Aravis.

“Was he picking his nose?” asks Kibi.

Aravis casts _dispel magic_ on Dranko, and the finger comes free.  Dranko opens his mouth to thank him, but notices that Kibi has a huge smug grin on his face.

“Hello, Dranko!” says Kibi brightly.

“Kibilhathur...”

“What seems to be the problem?” asks the dwarf.

“My finger... became stuck to my nose.  What can you tell me about this?”

“Oh!” says Kibi.  “It, uh, might have been a side effect of the gloves I made you.”

There are gales of laughter from the rest of the Company, who have now all gathered in Dranko’s room.  Dranko looks down at his fingerless _gloves of dexterity_ recently crafted for him by the dwarf.

“Will this happen often?” asks Dranko.

“Well, I intended it only for when you picked your nose, but I guess being next to your nose was good enough.”

“Will this happen _every_ time my finger becomes close to my nose?”

“Well, maybe it’ll be every time you press your nose hard with your finger,” says Kibi.  “But I did design it so that it can become undone.”

“And how might that happen?” asks Dranko, each word filled with a flat menace.

“You just have to say the command word.  Well, more of a phrase, really.”

Dranko lunges forward and grabs Kibi’s beard.  “You know, my religion forbids me from using bladed weapons,  but I’m pretty sure there’s no rule against razors and beard-cutting.   And I can’t help thinking that what you did was inappropriate among those whose lives so often depend on _mutual trust!_

Kibi looks indignant.  “Oh, and you’ve never put some wacky side-effect on a magic item you made for someone else.”

Dranko can’t help but take a quick look at Ernie – whose plate mail emits a loud fart when the left gauntlet’s pinky is pulled.

“Yes,” admits Dranko.  “But I did that years ago, when I was younger and immature.”

Morningstar looks serious.  “What if his finger stuck to his nose in the middle of combat... when he’s trying to heal you?”

“Well,” explains Kibi, “I thought it would only happen when he was picking his nose – which I figured wouldn’t be when his life was in danger.”

“You’ve effectively made these gloves something I can’t depend on,” says Dranko.  “I can’t be in a situation where I might be in combat, and end up with my finger stuck to my nose.  I just can’t.  Which means I can’t use them.”

Kibi is taken aback by Dranko’s lack of humor.  “You’re serious,” he says.

“Oh, I’m absolutely serious,” says Dranko.

Awkward silence.

“Unless there’s some way you can remove the curse from the gloves,” adds Dranko.  “Then it would be okay.”

Dranko does find that just touching his nose isn’t enough to trigger it, but pressing again causes his finger to re-stick.  He sighs.

“Ok, so, what’s the command phrase?” he asks.

In a smaller voice, Kibi says:  _“Kibi is a genius.”_

This elicits more laughter, and Dranko can’t help but chuckle himself.  “Well, I guess I have to give you bonus points for that.”

“I’m sorry, Dranko,” says Kibi.  “I figured this side effect wouldn’t happen as often as the one on your other magic item.”

What?  This is news to Ernie and Flicker, at very least.

“Ah, yes” explains Dranko.  “My dear, trusted friend here has informed me that, when I turn invisible, someone who can see invisible people we observe something... amusing.”

“Really?” asks Flicker.  “But we can’t see him when he’s invisible.”

“That’s the problem,” says Kibi.  “It’s too obscure.  You can only see it when he’s invisible, and you have _see invisibility_ cast."

“See what?” asks Ernie.

“See that the his _sash of invisibility_ says ‘Miss Charagan’ on it,” says Kibi, and that sets Ernie and Flicker to rolling on the floor, helpless with mirth.  Kibi does agree to remove the ‘curse’ from the gloves at his next opportunity – it should only take a couple of days.

“In the meantime,” says Flicker, “Just don’t pick your nose in combat.  How hard can that be?”

“So!” says Aravis.  “Dinner!”

Dranko and Morningstar hang back for a moment while the rest head depart for the main dining room.  

“I have two choices,” says Dranko.  “I can take the high road, and forget this whole thing... or I can think of a good way to get him back.”

It’s not hard for Morningstar to guess which one he’ll choose.

...to be continued...


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## Piratecat

Oh, lordy. _This_ game. I as a player was surprisingly annoyed about this, a fact that Kibi's player was also really surprised about; he meant it in good fun. We've never removed that particular "feature" of the gloves. But man, it was awfully embarrassing. Nothing is more irksome than a gloating dwarf.

The Golden Goblet is a simply gorgeous inn. Enjoy it while it lasts.


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## Mathew_Freeman

Piratecat said:
			
		

> Oh, lordy. _This_ game. I as a player was surprisingly annoyed about this, a fact that Kibi's player was also really surprised about; he meant it in good fun. We've never removed that particular "feature" of the gloves. But man, it was awfully embarrassing. Nothing is more irksome than a gloating dwarf.
> 
> The Golden Goblet is a simply gorgeous inn. Enjoy it while it lasts.




Why do you think you were so annoyed about it, particularly as I can't imagine Sagiro is the kind of DM who would unexpectedly enforce this in combat or something?

I can appreciate that I would also find this a bit irritating, but like you I hope I'd manage to see the funny side.

I can't help but think that such a (mostly) cheery update can only mean Upcoming Doom for the Company.


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## Jackylhunter

Tallarn said:
			
		

> ...I can't help but think that such a (mostly) cheery update can only mean Upcoming Doom for the Company.




Here here!!  This is going to be bad, and oh so good...8p

Great to have you back and posting Sagiro!


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## Piratecat

Tallarn said:
			
		

> Why do you think you were so annoyed about it, particularly as I can't imagine Sagiro is the kind of DM who would unexpectedly enforce this in combat or something?



A really bad day that leaked into the game, I think. In addition, Dranko had trusted Kibi to make him something and the practical joke left him feeling really vulnerable. If my friend could do this, what could my enemies do?

Not that he _did_ anything about that feeling of vulnerability. We'll be regretting that uncharacteristic lack of paranoia soon enough...


> I can't help but think that such a (mostly) cheery update can only mean Upcoming Doom for the Company.



You. Have. No. Idea. The scene you're about to see is one of the most memorable in the campaign for me. Man, Sagiro is a big jerk!


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## Sagiro

Piratecat said:
			
		

> ...You. Have. No. Idea. The scene you're about to see is one of the most memorable in the campaign for me. Man, Sagiro is a big jerk!



You're not _quite_ about to see it; the Company managed to dawdle an awful lot before heading over to see their old pal Shreen.  Soon, though.    

_*Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 281*_
*Preparations*

Dinner at the Golden Goblet is appropriately sumptuous: six courses, all expertly prepared; more excellent wine; delicious desserts.    A cadre of discrete servants attends them at all times.  The Company shares the main dining room with about a dozen other guests, all in traditional formal Djawish attire.   

No one attacks.  No one poisons them.  The furniture doesn’t animate.  It’s simply lovely.

After the meal, Aravis finds something on the floor outside the door of his room.  It’s a tiny little altar of stones, on which is balanced a tiny cup of milk – that Pewter immediately drinks.  Aravis looks around curiously but there’s no sign of who might have left it there.

Inside his (locked) room is another altar, this one atop the wardrobe, and with a dead mouse instead of milk.  Pewter leaps up and gives it a sniff.

“I usually like to kill them myself, but it’s still reasonably fresh.”

“It’s all yours,” says Aravis.  He has a strong suspicion as to how it got there.  “I’m going to bed.”

That night Morningstar visits each of her friends’ dreams – there is no taint of Dralla in any of them.  In fact, the Company seems more relaxed than they have been in quite some time.  Feather beds will do that.


* *


The next morning the entire Company is blissfully free of rash.  Dranko opines that, since they’re actively moving towards fulfilling their promise to Shreen, the Curse of Dralla has temporarily abated.

“We should consider the possibility that we’ll just have to hand the Maze over,” he says.

“And how do we go about doing that?” asks Morningstar.

“I don’t know,” Dranko confesses.

“How would we even get it out of Aravis’s head?” asks Grey Wolf.

“I don’t know that either,” says Dranko.  “I’m just saying it’s a possibility.”

“I’d say ‘last resort,’” says Grey Wolf.

“And technically we didn’t promise to _give_ the Maze to Shreen,” says Ernie.  “We only said we’d _bring_ it to him.”

It remains to be seen if Dralla will acknowledge the distinction.

A servant knocks on the door, asking if the Company would like breakfast in their room, or in the commons.   They decide on a private meal, since the topic of discussion will be Shreen the Fair and how to deal with him.  

Aravis, wondering if the Crosser’s Maze can be used to increase the accuracy of _teleportation_ to locations only seen in another time line, decides he wants to have a talk with King Vhadish XXIII.   When he enters the Maze, the first thing he notices is that something is wrong with it.  It’s not disastrous, or even particularly alarming, but the whole thing seems to be – well, vibrating, for want of a better word, and it gives him a headache.  Aravis finds Vhadish in his fortress, still guarded by steel-handed golems.

King Vhadish appears before him, looking peevish.  

“Young Aravis,” he says.

“Master Vhadish,” Aravis bows.

“I am quite busy,” says Vhadish.  “But I can spare a moment or two.”

“I have two questions for you,” says Aravis.  “Have you noticed that there is something wrong with the Maze?

“Yes,” agrees Vhadish.  “There is.  I assume it’s your fault.”

“Probably, yes,” admits Aravis.

“What did you do?” asks Vhadish.

Aravis explains his recent time-travels, as well as the Curse of Dralla.  Vhadish has little interest in Shreen the Fair, but listens intently to the Aravis’s accounts of temporal journeys.  

“Time travel,” Vhadish says to himself when Aravis is finished.  “Interesting that such a thing is possible.  I imagine that the Maze is reacting to that in some fashion.  Can you fix it?”

“I will try,” promises Aravis.

“Please do.  It's annoying.”

“The second question I have,” says Aravis, “is: can I use the Maze to correct teleportation?”

“I doubt the Maze was designed for that,” says Vhadish.  “Perhaps you could bend it to your will if you were mighty enough.  But I doubt you are.  Maybe with sufficient training, you could be elevated to a sufficient level of mental prowess.  I could take the time to train you again, though you are already in my debt.”

“Right now I don’t have the time,” says Aravis.

“Very well,” says Vhadish, looking bored.  “As it stands, I haven’t even thought of a task for you in regards to your existing debt.  Every time I think of some job I want done, I come to the conclusion that it would be easier simply to do it myself.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have many things to attend to.  Good day, young Aravis.”


* *


Before their appointment with One Shining Mirror that afternoon, the Company discusses the Guild of Chains.  Dranko decides he’ll spend the morning collecting information about them.  He uses his _robe of blending_ to disguise himself (as Turlus, of all people) and presents himself at one of the Guild’s own offices as a bard and historian.  He is writing a book about the Guild of Chains and its many glorious contributions to the Djawish society and economy.  He desires to know how the Guild of Chains came into being.

He is handed off to a minor functionary who is happy to sit and talk with such an illustrious author, especially since there is no particular secret about the Guild’s origins.  What Dranko is told is this:

The Guild of Chains, before it was called that, was actually a branch of the Djawish government, as slavery has been an acceptable punishment for criminals since the city’s founding.   Certain humanitarian factions in the noble court eventually became uncomfortable with the close connection, and the government office in charge of administering sentences of slavery was calved off as a separate organization, which named itself the Guild of Chains.  

As a separate entity seeking to increase its financial means, the Guild of Chains sent a prospecting team into the mountains east of Djaw.  There they discovered a small and scattered tribe of dwarves, who themselves had recently fled from the mountains’ interior from encroaching ogres.   The story is that, of the small number of dwarves who actually escaped, many had been inmates in a dwarfish prison.   That was making it difficult for the dwarven tribal elders to maintain basic order, let along establish a new dwarvish nation.  The Guild of Chains struck a bargain with the dwarves:  they would provide the dwarves with the supplies needed to bootstrap their society, _and_ purchase the worst of their criminals to boost their inventory.  In return the dwarves would grant limited mining rights to the Guild.   So it was that over the course of many decades, the dwarves managed to establish the Kingdom of Gurund.  

Eventually, however, there arose a faction within Gurund that felt it was immoral to sell criminals to the Guild, especially since over time the severity of the crimes required for such sales had grown small.  Even petty thieves and vandals were being sold into slavery.  This schism grew more and more intractable until it led to a civil war.  The Guild, of course, threw their weight behind the pro-slavery faction, and that assistance made the difference in the outcome.  But the new ruling government of Gurund was now further indebted to the Guild of Chains, and so things began (from the Dwarves’ point of view) to spiral out of control.   The dwarves grew ever more surly and resentful, but the Guild had grown so strong that there was nothing they could do about the all-pervasive institution of slavery.  

Technically, Dranko is assured, the dwarves sold into slavery are still all criminals and debtors, and the Guild has the full cooperation of the Gurundian government.  It’s a shame, truly, that so many dwarves cannot accept the status quo.


* *


In the early afternoon the Company visits One Shining Mirror, High Priest of the Sun Goddess Kemma in Djaw.  Mirror doesn’t have much to offer regarding Shreen the Fair or the temple of Dralla – it seems that Shreen has laid low ever since the party’s previous visit, and there has been little activity from the poor Drallan presence in the city.

On the other hand, the party has much information to provide.  One Shining Mirror listens to every word they have to say about One Certain Step, as they recount in full his role in their adventures.  They make sure to emphasize his honor and sacrifice but don’t gloss over his spiritual wavering and subsequent atonement.  Dranko tells of Step’s defiance of the Demon Lord Tapheon, and they finish with his final words and deeds as they entered the Lightless Room.   A scribe busily records the entire tale.

Before the Company leaves, an underpriest shows them to the stables, where Thunder’s glowing stall is kept clean and empty.  It has been designated a holy site by the church, and a few pilgrims have already prayed at the stall of One Certain Step’s horse.


* *


Back at the Golden Goblet the Company continues to discuss strategy – should they be looking to negotiate?  Subdue?  Annihilate?   Could Shreen be swayed with gifts?  Maybe the curse will be lifted in Shreen is killed?  And what spells should they prepare, or cast ahead of time?  One thing they all agree on:  they should ask to meet him on neutral ground, and not at the Plaza of Glory.

One thing is for sure: more information is never a bad thing.  Morningstar attempts to scout the Plaza of Glory (site of Shreen’s temple) in Ava Dormo, but finds it protected there by an impenetrable darkness that extends several blocks in each direction.

“Shreen’s subscribed to the Mokad School of Dream Warding,” she tells the others.

Aravis decides to cast _vision_, with Shreen the Fair as his subject, and this provides an interesting vignette.  His vision goes black as he casts, and his feels submerged in darkness.  A small glow forms out of the black, a circular pattern on a floor, coruscating with red and gray light.   Then Aravis sees the silhouette of a humpbacked humanoid creature, pacing back and forth in front of the circle.   There’s no way for Aravis to place the scene, or even tell if it’s indoors or out.  

The red light of the circle flashes brightly; Shreen turns to look.  A tall beastly humanoid has appeared standing in the circle, a vile creature with snakes coming out of its midsection.   The two beings regard each other for a moment, and then Shreen starts to chuckle in his distinctive broken-glass voice.  

“This way, this way,” urges Shreen, and the monster steps from the circle, following.  

The _vision_ ends.  

Whatever else the vision might indicate, it leaves Aravis and the others with an even stronger sense that Shreen would use the Maze to evil ends.  

“If it looks like an abomination,” says Morningstar, “it’s an abomination.  I think the Vree are the only exception we’ve ever run across.”

The others agree.  It looks like the encounter will entail more ass-kicking than calm discussion.

A servant comes by asking if they need any laundry done.  The Company politely declines, and Dranko asks if the Goblet could stop sending servants for a while, as they wish more privacy.  

“Maybe we should invite Shreen to meet us here,” suggests Grey Wolf, mostly kidding.

“That would make this the most expensive inn we’d have ever destroyed,” says Ernie,

“No!” objects Kibi.  “This is the only place in Djaw I actually _like_.”

A thought comes to Dranko then, and he smiles to himself.  He excuses himself from the room for a moment, and once outside he uses his _robe of blending_ to look exactly like Kibi.  He sticks his finger in his nose and goes in search of a servant.

“Excuse me,” he says in his best imitation of Kibi’s voice.  “My name is Kibilhathur Bimson.  As a dwarf, I don’t have very good personal hygiene.  And I need a snot rag, because my finger is holding a giant booger inside.  If you could get me one please, I would appreciate it.  And perhaps one for my bottom as well.  Just have it brought up to my room.”

The servant is unflappable.  “Of course, sir.  Will you require any medical assistance?”

“No, no!  It’s actually rather fun.  Thank you, though.”

He returns to the rooms and changes back, uttering “Kibi is a genius” to dislodge his finger while savoring the irony.  Inside, he approaches the dwarf.

“Kibi, I want you to know:  no hard feelings about the gloves.  I don’t think we really need to worry about removing the side-effect.  They do the job I need them to.  Thank you for making them.”

Kibi wonders how suspicious he should be of this change in attitude, but he bows graciously and answers:  “I’m glad you like them.”


* *


Ernie casts a _sending_ to Shreen the Fair, requesting a meeting the next afternoon on neutral ground.  But the answer is implacable:

_You will bring it to me here, after sundown tomorrow.   You will hand over my prizes, as requested._

Ernie repeats this to the others, adding:  “You will be a big old jerk!”

“We made an offer that would have spared his shrine considerable damage,” says Grey Wolf.  “He can hardly blame us now.”

There’s a knock at the door.  

“Didn’t we ask for privacy?” asks Morningstar.

Dranko opens the door.  “Hi there,” he says.

“Delivery for Master Bimson.”

The servant hands Kibi two clean and folded linens.   “As you requested, sir.”

“As I requested?” asks Kibi, but the servant is already leaving.

Kibi gives Dranko a funny look  “Does this have anything to do with your recent change of heart?

“Yes.  I think it might,” says Dranko.  He turns and walks whistling to the other side of the room, where he plucks a grape from a table and pops it into his mouth.

The only additional action of import the Company executes that day is a _divination_ spell, cast by Ernie.  

“Will we do well, if we go to the Temple of Dralla to meet Shreen the Fair?”  

The answer comes to him:

_“They will take what is not given.  The darkness presses close, and does not lift.”_

“So negotiation isn’t likely,” Morningstar opines.  

“I think we should open negotiations by burning the whole place to the ground,” offers Grey Wolf.


* *

Heedless of Shreen’s preferred schedule the Company heads to the Plaza of Glory at noon the following day, having foregone the Golden Goblet’s excessive breakfast for a _heroes’ feast_.   The sun is dim behind a thick cloud layer; drizzle starts to fall soon after they depart.   Their trip through Djaw shows them every strata of the city’s social structure – they leave from the wealthiest neighborhoods and travel through genteel residential blocks, marketplaces and parks, then poorer areas, and finally the squalor of a forgotten corner of the city wherein they find the Plaza of Glory.  

The rain grows steady as they walk.  The Plaza of Glory is as they remember:  a little courtyard of broken flagstones and abandoned tenements, far from any thoroughfare and watched by a cracked statue of an angel in the center of a dried-up fountain.   Beyond one of the boarded up walls of empty homes lies the Shrine of Dralla, and its Night Master, Shreen the Fair.

In the spattering rain, the angel weeps.

...to be continued...


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## Artoomis

Like many, I love reading this stuff...


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## EroGaki

All hail the Lord of Felines!!


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## jensun

Nice update.  Can someone track down the page where Shreen appears?


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## Vargo

http://home.comcast.net/~dorian.hart/diary81-90.html


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## Joshua Randall

They built a shrine to One Certain Step's horse! I love it.


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## Innocent Bystander

Do you guys ever reminisce about the days where magic missile was a powerful spell and a good roll on a cure light wounds potion could bring you from the brink of death to full health?

No, this is not a shameless bump, how dare you even think such a thing


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## Sagiro

Greetings, loyal readers!

Because long threads like this one are affecting the performance of the message boards, I have started a new one.   Here's a link:

The Further Adventures of Abernathy's Company

It picks up exactly where this one leaves off.

-Sagiro


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## Shmoo

Feel like this old thread needs a bump for new readers.


----------

