It's Three Dragon Ante Night at the University of Magic Arts, or at least Bunnicula called for a late, late game! He has been acting erratically since his Master, Bucknard, disappeared under mysterious circumstances two years before. Still, being around him gives you all hope that one day all of you will, like he, be away from your Humans. They aren't that bad sort, at least not for Humans. Still freedom you all yearn for it...
Of course, the damn Bunny is late, again, so you start the game and will either deal him in later or restart when he arrives.
You, each one of you, feel a pull from your Masters' as if asking Where are you!?. However, you've a LOT of gold on this pot with your current hands each looking favorable for the win!
Anaxian ignores his Master Rary, Tekumsah La'Awethikah ignores his Master Otto, Zizi The Masterless ignores her Master Jallarzi, Whisper Heart Sliver ignores her Master Otiluke, Eirish Carb'Ombe ignores his Master Drawmij, Trakas Aeramirdal ignores his Master Nystul, Silvertail ignores her Master Bigby, and finally Fidget the Raccoon ignores his Master Tenser.
Each of you feels a sense of irritation from your Masters but what can you do? Excuses will be made and this too shall pass. After all, it is 3 am what could these Human Wizards' want a THIS Ungodly hour?
Silvertail 'holds' her hands in front of her via mage hand, her silver-tipped tail pointed at them as the focus of her spell. It was always pleasant to be around others more her size and relative level of power. They were much less likely to look down on her... and much more manipulable. Which was why poker was an amusing diversion.
Just now, however, she wasn't so happy. Her cards weren't exactly the best. Well, that just meant bluffing, but acting confident would be too obvious. Instead she goes for the more complicated bluff, frowning just slightly, letting her tails and ears droop a bit, trying to subtly act like she's bluffing a good hand by acting like she has a bad hand.
Trakas keeps his card very still and lets his eye roam from animal to animal. He know that he had a good hand and he just wanted to watch them fidget in their chairs a few more moments before he took their money. It was always enjoyable to play with an opponent. Watching them attempt to keep up with him and when it was time...
Do not get ahead of yourself. It would be foolish to think it was over just now. Let us see what the others are doing...
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Anaxian was a dragon. He did not risk losing a single coin in his horde unless there was more to gain than a few more meager coins. Gambling was stupid.
He lounged on the human sized table a short distance away from the others and their insipid game, reading a book that was bigger than he was and trying to ignore his bitterness about having already lost all the money he had left.
That squirrel was a godsdammed shark.
With little chance of winning this pot, Zizi plays a low black dragon, allowing her to steal 2 gold from the pot. "Well, gotta get my share at least. But this is my last round. Someone needs me."
Standing on the table with her cards laid out in front of her, Whispered paced back and forth. When they said games, this was not what the little fey had in mind. How was this fun? There was no stabbing, no bleeding, and no vulgar display of language, still, there was something to be said for tricking others out of their valuables, but why cards?! She sighed again, knowing she had little chance of besting the others in this hand.
She briefly considered color spraying the lot of them. Sitting at the table, it would have been easy to hit almost all of them in one blast, and Anaxian wouldn't care. Still, with her luck tonight it would be ineffective and leave her with several agitated familiars that were bigger than she was.
Also at the table, seated atop its surface near one edge, is a tiny plant in the shape of a person. With wiry vine-wrapped arms and legs, ending in tiny fingers and toes, and a leafy tendrils something like hair on its bark-covered head, it leans over to peer at its cards with bright green eyes, shimmering with simple curious joy. The cards in question are face-up on the table, plain for all to see, although it doesn't really matter. Tek has no money, and barely follows the concept of gambling. He's here for fun and companionship, and because he usually serves to lighten the mood and raise some laughs among the others. He gets a hand from a spare deck when the others are dealt in.
So when Zizi puts forward her low black dragon, Tek eagerly stands up and lifts one of his cards, stepping forward on the table to lay it down. "Good?" he asks, his voice like a forest breeze. A beaming smile is on his face.
The card isn't one he could play, even if it were his turn.
Silvertail scarcely even glances at the card. "No, Tekumsah, that's not good right now. Maybe next time," she says distractedly, still mostly focused on her own cards.
Throws down 131 gp down in a disgusted gangsta-like fashion. "Serves me right fo bein' thrifty...Yo! I guess it gon' be a few mo' dayz til I getz me grill!" (greater magic fang permenaced)
"Oi! Tek-Man, draw one of doz cards, boyo...I wanna seez if yoo can out-bank theze theeves!"
He throws 100 gp down in front of Tekumsah in hopes the wee liitle green man can get lucky!
Despite acting and being fairly weak, Eirish sends sensations of jumping for joy about his hand via "Empath" and looks to see how his opponents react.
His company has come to know that Eirish is almost embarrassed about his exuberant intellect and knows how tough he really isn't. He tries to "fit in" and look and sound tough by adopting a Ghettoblin dialect to compliment his Gealic accent.
Fidget had been counting the cards. It was a fun exercise. He had 75 gold in the pot and he knew every card everyone had...except for Trakas. There was at least 1 card the squirrel had that he was unsure of. I wonder if he's scent-marking the cards.
Bah! This was just for the companionship anyway. And his hand couldn't even beat Tekumsah's.
Silvertail sighs at Eirish's antics. When will he stop with that ridiculous accent?
She sends an apologetic feeling back to her master, as if to say she's sorry for being delayed and will come as soon as she can.
Tekumsah frowns when Silvertail comments on his card, and he withdraws it with a sad sigh. When Eirish speaks up, though, the little petrifern eagerly nods and trots back to his deck. With every step, tiny flowers and sprouts of green appear from the table, easily plucked but marking his path as he goes.
Tek picks up a card and sets it before him. He looks at it for a few seconds, and then picks up his other cards, walks forward, and tosses them all down on the table.
"Good?"
Fidget sends an 'annoyance' vibe right back at Tenser. But he also sends the ever-present 'is there food?' vibe, just in case. They've gotten pretty good at this vibe-thing at this point. And a racoon's gotta eat, ya know.
"DAAAAAAMN Tek-Man! If we wuz playin Elevensies, den you'd be da KING! But I am afraid wee man, It ain't gonna cut the mustard seed this hand. Next time I be bringin' me shamrock, YO!"
Eirish throws down The Slutty Maiden card.
" Thirteen eh...me lucky number has never been good to me with the honies! One too many for me to handle at one time."
Trakas looks over his hand to look at Eirish.
The money you wasted on your grill should have been spent on learning how to speak properly.
He smiles at him in a slight disarming manner and continues on.
The only "honies" you will ever handle are ones that you created out of Drawmij's excrement.
He laughs a bit more as he looks down at the pot on the table.
Tekumsah, that is good....
Tekumsah beams and jumps up and down, his fists clenched in excitement. "I win? Make fire now?" He turns and dashes to his spot at the table, where a leather case about as tall as Tek himself rests. He throws open one end and pulls out a thin wand, longer than he is tall, carved from ash and detailed with flame motifs. Everyone else present knows very well that it's the newest in a line of simple wands that Tek has been given by his master, thanks to his insatiable love of the things.
They also know that Tek isn't nearly as capable with a wand as he likes to think, and is as liable to cause a mishap as he is to actually use the thing properly.
The petrifern raises the wand like a spear set for a charge, and looks around the table, awaiting confirmation that he should, indeed, make fire now.
It was tempting to just let him do it--after all, she would get out of losing if everyone's hands burned up. But it would be such a mess to clean up after.
"No, dear, now isn't a good time to make fire," Silvertail says, giving Tekumsah a vulpine smile. "Maybe in a minute I can show you somewhere that's good for making fire, okay?"
Treating the simple-minded fern so kindly was a trial, but he was surprisingly powerful in his own way, so it was useful to keep him thinking of her as a good friend.
"Wow Trak...excrement...theat's a big word fo yoo! Yo keepa musta called yooz dat enuf to wherez you realized what it meant. And enough to remember how ta uze it in a proppa sentence. Cuz I knowz yoo dint read it somewhere...you would hafta knowz how to read fo dat."
Looking around at the others gathered around the table, Whisper asked "am I the only that that doesn't know what language he's speaking?"
"Eirish, there is no Sluty Maiden card. Where'd you buy this deck, from a thieve's guild? Guess that's why you've been winning."
"I believe that's a 'Princess' card. Wishful thinking in his part perhaps. Or has Drawmij simply taught you what he refers to them as?"
Trakas looks over at the fey
after all these years, we all are still trying to figure out what the hell he is saying. No one ever understand this ghettonese stuff he feels the need to use.
He looks around the room at the others and holds up a finger....
and tilts his head to the side as if he is trying to hear something....
wait for it...
Trakas smiles again and turns to Eirish as he begins his speech.
"Wow Trak...excrement...theat's a big word fo yoo! Yo keepa musta called yooz dat enuf to wherez you realized what it meant. And enough to remember how ta uze it in a proppa sentence. Cuz I knowz yoo dint read it somewhere...you would hafta knowz how to read fo dat."
And..there it is. Goes right for the demeaning your intelligence. You can sit at the bottom of the Azure Sea reading all the books your master gives you. It will do you no good until you come up for air and into the real world. For someone who is as intelligent as you..you would think they would finally pick up on the constructive criticism and handle it like an adult. Life is too short to get your pants full of excrement over words. You should lighten up more....just like I did your coin purse.
Trakas causally tosses his cards down on the table.
Eirish pauses to consider the moment internally.
"Hmmm...it's the first time Trak has ever attempted to us a complex word three syllables long in place of a vulgar alternative, and yet he anticipated your retort. Has he, himself been tinkering with weird science chicanery enough to find something, so young, that distorts temporal fields? Nah, being no way smart enough, he must have stumbled into it by accident and attributed it to one of his deeds. Even so, by accident, he will be able to counter any raw intelligence with retro-speculation. And given an infinite amount of time, which he undoubtedly needs, he need not be smart at all. Too bad he feels the need to cheat in a battle of words, instead of letting an insult fly and then taking the counter like a man. But I guess it's not very game of me to duel in a battle of wits with an, otherwise, unarmed man-and rogues and swashbucklers were never greatly known for any honor. Be kind to him, Shwishies are nothing without their girlish flamboyant panache-if you ever verbally stab him too hard he may cry and swing on his own sword-which in turn probably wouldn't hurt that bad even if he sneak attacked himself. You bring it on yourself anyways Eirish...concede"
Eirish concedes to Trakas for the greater good.
"Well played Yo!"
Anaxian wished for the hundredth time that arcane spellcasters could cast Silence. He made a mental note to himself to pick up a few scrolls of that spell. He might not be able to cast them himself, but he could fake it. If it would free him from this prattling it would be cheap at twice the price.
Tekumsah hops up and down at Silvertail's suggestion that fire may be in high demand soon, and he begins to hop back and forth, waving the wand like a fighting staff of some kind. In short order, he notices a word repeated several times in conversation, and begins chanting it himself, accentuating his display of martial prowess.
"Excrement!"
Trakas watches with amusement as Tekumsah continues his display of martial prowess.
Keep your wrist set and use your hips more. I guess that will be your battle cry...
"Yeah. As...entertaining, as this all is, I think I should see what my human wants. I can't keep him waiting too long. He gets testy, and those damn spheres can be a pain."
As the hands are about to be revealed, IT happens... fiery lances of pain ripping through your skull! Each of you sees a vision, a horrible vision of death. Small furry bodies fall smashing into the table, cards fall from nerveless fingers, the pot of money and jewels flies across the room, the game is in ruin.
First, it happens to -
Then to -
Next -
Followed by -
The stone hands on him are pushed away. He casts another spell attempting to translocate away but it is stifled! The a final word rings through his mind, . He falters and then so perishes.
To -
Thereafter -
The darkness seems to be a living tangible thing, he attempts to dispel it when a thought echoes in his mind, My enemy is right here, he's always been jealous of me. I've a chance to slay him! He turns and sees Bigby who has one of his hands up and active. Nystul blasts the hated Bigby with some sort of Blacklight. Nystul shakes his head fighting off this evil thought. Before he can act to undo what he has done, stony wings envelop and tackle him. He casts a spell blasting the thing, he still can't exactly see what it is, into the ceiling. By the time he gets to a knee, Bigby lies on the floor, seemingly dead. Suddenly, Nystul shrivels up and falls over dead.
But then -
Then out of the corner of his eye Nystul targets him with a spell! Not prepared for it, he cannot see, Somehow the creature which should be crushed breaks free, could a mortal do that he thinks? Then he feels cold hands, hands like the grave grasp his throat. He cannot move once more try as he might. Neck snapped, Bigby falls to the floor a rag doll his fist and hand thereafter hover immobile.
Finally -
Body honed as the greatest of warriors through magic he leaps into the fray, slicing whatever stands in his way. A magic blade, the spell created by Mordenkainen himself aids in the death dealing.
Flashes of light, fire, lightning all rock his fellow Circle members. Prepared for electricity and fire, neither harm the crafty Tenser. Still he knows, as long as one lives the rest can be revived. Then magic, bone chilling cold strikes him once, twice, three times. Proofed against fire and lightning he did not expect this. Still, he fares well and is still able to fight slaying or destroying whatever sort of minions array before him but the foe uses the shadows against Tenser.
Finally, the foe is in his line of sight and he charges forward to strike the murky figure and even lands a blow though he still cannot see the figure as well as he would like to. Then a green ray strikes Tenser in the chest he knows it now, the cold a softening for this finale. No other thoughts pass his mind and his body disintegrates and the mighty Tenser is no more...
A final thought echoes through the bond you once shared with your Masters, Warn Mordenkainen....
Then nothing, nothing at all. The future some if not all wanted has finally come. But is this how they wanted it? The Circle of Eight, the most elite of Wizards of the Flanaess have all been slain so quickly it is unthinkable.
Zizi has forgotten all about the game as she quietly scouts all the entrances to room they are in to make sure whatever danger found her master isn't also about to hit them.
Anaxian looked up, tensing with panic and pain that was not his. A shiver rippled through him as the sensations faded. His master was dead.
He went back to his book.
Fidget falls away from the table. "Excrement, indeed. I believe I understand what the summons was about." He stretches his senses, hearing, smell, looking for any indication that they may be in immediate danger.
"Anyone know where we can find Mordenkainen?" He wonders what kind of foe could have done this and with such speed.
A wave of nausea washes over Eirish. He feels as though he just violently vomited over the card game, everyone playing, as well as those just spectating. He looks around to make sure neither the floor, nor anyone in the room has been the victim of a horrid mess he had caused.
"Someone jus' got iced, Yo!"
"They all did. The whole circle." Anaxian's dry telepathic mind voice said. "Save for Mordenkainen." He did not look up from his book.
Silvertail had enough time to observe the reactions of some of her 'peers' and her own master's fear that she could put down her cards (face-down) and compose herself a bit before the pain and shock of Bigby's death hit her.
She takes a moment to catch her breath afterward. She seems to still be herself, which is good--no sign of her magic or intellect diminishing, which had always been a concern, given their source had been unclear. Freedom... it was not the way she would have wished it. Bigby had been a useful master, and she had never wished harm upon him. But he was dead, and she was free.
But there was the small matter of what happened next to worry about now...
"Yes, all of our masters are dead, based on how we've all reacted," she says, standing up and taking a couple of steps into the middle of the room (coincidentally standing on her cards). "Which means a few different things. First, we are free, and we all seem to have retained our intellects and abilities, meaning we still have the capability to act. Second, there is something or someone out there capable of killing eight of Oerth's most skilled wizards... simultaneously."
She swept her gaze over the assembled familiars. "That's bad enough, obviously, when we don't know what their goals might be, but let me point something else out--you don't go killing the Circle of Eight without researching them first... which means that there's a possibility they know about us. So point number three is, they might send someone for us next. "
"Which leads to point number four. We must act. The question is, what do we do? One option," she nods at Fidget, "Would be to find Mordenkainen. He might have the power to face this foe, if he were to be warned of it, and he certainly has the motivation to do so. Another option would be to strike out on our own. But we would forever be looking over our shoulders, wondering if something might come out of the shadows to kill us at any moment. And of course the idea of facing this enemy ourselves is foolishness, at least as we are now."
"This all leads us to one conclusion, I think," she looks over the other familiars again. "We must find Mordenkainen, and we must do so as swiftly as possible. Which leaves one question--where is he? Why was he not present where the Eight were assembled? Did any of you get any clues from your masters as to where he might be, or for that matter, why they were all up in the middle of the night and in the same room together?"
When the sensation and vision come in, Tek has just turned to smile at Trakas's suggestions... and then he shrieks and falls onto the table, rolling and kicking. One little arm comes up, and it grows--explosively, violently--into a writhing tendrilous mass. The heavy, thorned vines flail about in the air, and then come down on the table with a sharp crack, splitting the wooden surface deep across the entire breadth. Then Tek rolls over, falls off the table to the floor, and just as quickly the vines disappear, retracting into his tiny body.
The petrifern pushes himself to his feet about the time Silvertail is finishing up her speech. He clambers up a chair, and then back onto the table, where he gingerly retrieves his wands and slings the case over his shoulder. Then he looks up at the others, his eyes watery. "Otto dead. Find Morken?" He tugs on the strap of his wand case, and the leaves atop his head quiver--Tek's equivalent of a deep breath. "Where is he?"
Trakas sits back as he lets things digest...he looks around the room at the others and understand that they too have felt this loss. As others start to speak up he listen and waits for the really smart ones to give some advice as to what happened. His eye stop on silvertail and gives her a look on understanding and respect.
Thank you Silvertail for the answer that all of us needed to hear. The circle like most of you know will have several contingencies in place...clones aplenty, failing that they have placed body parts hidden around the world so that they may be cloned if something should happen. That is what I was told by my master at least. Now Mordenkainen has always been very quiet about his personal life. If he is not here, then we could try the Citadel.
He looks around again at the others
The Yatils are good distance from here though.
Fidget looks around the room. Something, aside from what's just happened, is off. It takes him a moment to figure out what it is.
"Where's Bunnicula?"
"We should be wary of Bunnicula. Something like this often requires inside help. On the other paw, Bunnicula could be the first victim. First things first, we vacate the area quickly. We can come back to pick up anything we might want later. We should inform the locals. Not likely to help us much, but we might get lucky and it'll put them on their guard should this be the first step in a larger plan."
Zizi steps through a brief portal up to the window ledge, looking out to see if this is a good way to exit.
"Should we check our bosses' cribs? Maybe dey saw this comin' and had contingencies in place...left us clues.. or maybe sumthin to help jack tha fool who threw all this shade!"
"Not likely. If they had, they'd have had us with them, in preperation to fight the threat, or help set the trap, or if they left us out of harm's way, then we would not have been called at the last moment. In any case, we should look around, but after we give the enemy a chance to leave. Besides, if we go right now, we might catch a glimpse of who did this from a safe vantage point."
"For an archmage, death is only a temporary setback. I suspect they all have contingencies and will return at some point soon. If they do not, they can hardly be said to be worthy of their title." Anaxian said. "I am surprised none of them shared their death contingencies with any of you. Mine did."
"First though, we need to find out what happened. There would be no point in aiding our masters' return if whatever killed them is ready to kill them again. For now, death is a refuge for them."
"Besides, if I were to kill several powerful wizards, the first thing I'd do after grabbing anything they had on them would be to raid their quarters for anything they might have left there," Silvertail points out. "We'd be far too likely to run into whatever killed our masters. Speaking of which, did any of the rest of you get a clear look at it? Bigby never really saw what it was."
"What we need now is more information. For all we know, there's some horrible wizard-eating monster prowling the halls right now. So the sneakiest one of us needs to go take a peek and make sure we're not about to run face-first into something that's out to kill us." She looks over the assembled group again and sighs. "That's me, isn't it?"
"No." Anaxian's mind-voice rasped. "But if you wish to go, I will not argue."
"If you're volunteering, Anaxian, it would be a pleasant surprise," Silvertail says sweetly.
"All I saw was a murky humanoid figure, one who seems to manipulate shadows. Not much of a description to go on. But if you see something like that, I'd suggest you run, fly, or skitter in the opposite direction."
Currently the FF are all assembled in the basement at the University of Magic Arts. Based on what you all did see from your visions, the floor where your Masters' was located was a stone floor similar to this one.
You heard nothing down here though so it's unlikely the fight took place here anyway.
Looking out the one window to the basement it is dark outside but all seems as normal as it ever was.
It's me..yo. I'm the one that's gonna look. Unless anyone else here gets a second chance when they get smacked for reelz, it's me. Two minutes."
If everyone thinks they have two minutes to spare, Eirish will mix an extract of Cure Light Wounds and Recharge Innate Magic, as he has no extracts prepared. If they don't think they have two minutes to spare, he will go immediately without mixing.
Eirish has "Lil Red" stay 10' inside the room and he moves his full 20' inside the hallway.
Anaxian gave Silvertail a reptilian stare loaded with ambiguity, hopped off the table, soared gently to the floor, and slipped through the doorway.