Getting his bearings, Janosz finds further evidence that they have moved. The position of the main landmarks, the cathedral and the castle, have shifted in perspective.
"I can't see anything lurking in the Aether," says the priest.
"Nor I," adds Bor. "And I do not believe we are where we were before - we seem to have been moved again against our wills." He points towards the skyline. "The position of our main landmarks, the cathedral and the castle, have shifted relative to us. I think we are now slightly closer to the centre of the city, and moving away from the city exits," he murmurs ominously.
Group 1:
Group 1:
"If whatever is causing this wants to draw us into the town's center, then I say we give them what they want. It's almost certainly a trap, but I'd rather die fighting than spend an eternity in this lhaew reichar. The others might be drawn there as well."
The empty thoroughfares mock them. Sometimes they see the tracks of their lost companions, or they come across their own tracks, heading in the opposite direction. They hear the murmur of their friends' voices but cannot reach them before they are snatched or hidden away. Sometimes they are in the southern quadrant of the city, then the east, then the west; wandering fruitlessly as the landmarks in the centre treacherously shift between glances to impossibly reposition themselves. Always they are kept in the periphery of the city, unable to either reach its edge or its centre.
And the wan sun tracks ominously across the sky, beginning to dip towards sunset.
The empty thoroughfares mock them. Sometimes they see the tracks of their lost companions, or they come across their own tracks, heading in the opposite direction. They hear the murmur of their friends' voices but cannot reach them before they are snatched or hidden away. Sometimes they are in the southern quadrant of the city, then the east, then the west; wandering fruitlessly as the landmarks in the centre treacherously shift between glances to impossibly reposition themselves. Always they are kept in the periphery of the city, unable to either reach its edge or its centre.
And the wan sun tracks ominously across the sky, beginning to dip towards sunset.
Group 1:
Then, the oppressive silence in the city is abruptly shattered. The hollow tolling of the cathedral bell rings out across the city. It is startlingly close - the temple's remaining tower can be seen looming over the roofs, a brief walk from where the companions now stand.
Group 1:
“We have proved today that walking will not bring us to our destination. It may be that we will need to defeat whatever force is keeping us here before we leave. It appears that we are being drawn towards this cathedral.” Lightbringer hefts his sword and looks to his companions. “Shall we go and confront our tormentors, should they be within?”
Group 1:
“But our choices are slim.”
Then, the oppressive silence in the city is abruptly shattered. The hollow tolling of the cathedral bell rings out across the city. It is startlingly close - the temple's remaining tower can be seen looming over the roofs, a brief walk from where the companions now stand.
Group 1:
Group 1:
Having said his piece, the paladin turns and begins walking in the direction of the cathedral, pausing after a few paces to ensure that his companions are following.
Group 1:
Group 1:
Group 1:
“Looks are deceiving in this accursed place, Master Frogshanks,” Rolund warns with his ever present frown as he gazes upon the temple. “We must be wary that the church has not been corrupted to a more sinister congregation.”
“Tell me, warforged. Can you sense any evil in this place?”
Group 1:
Group 2:
There is a stir of movement at the far side of the square, across the crevasse. Rodergo, Ezreal and Bor stagger out from a side street. As they do so, the tolling of the bell stops, and silence falls again.
There is a stir of movement at the far side of the square, across the crevasse. Janosz, Gil, Lightbringer and Basher stagger out from a side street. As they do so, the tolling of the bell stops, and silence falls again.
Is....Rolund there, too?
Seeing what looks like most of their missing comrades across the square, Lightbringer raises a hand and begins walking towards them (stopping short of the crevasse obviously). Where is Runzyl? he thinks.
Gil stops to take in the scene, studying the different elements.
Perception
"Hi guys... if it really is you." Janosz pulls his bow as he walks towards the other party members, aiming at the nearest new arrival. "How do we know they aren't shapechangers f&&$ing with our minds? So, Ezreal - to prove you're the real thing, why don't you tell me the address of our apartment back home?"
Rolund looks on warily at the fortuitous reunion with the others.
“I see my prayers for being called to the Flame prematurely went unanswered,” Rolund says to the Purified. “Where is the Valenar?”
Runzyl emerges from the shadowy confines of the alleyway, Falla Caesenri blossoming into ethereal frost at his command.
"I am here," he states flatly. "It takes more than dancing shades and tricks of the light to stop the vallaes tairn."
The adventurers walk cautiously towards each other, calling across the chasm dividing the square. The setting sun dwindles as it descends behind the rooftops and long fingers of shadow extend across the plaza, finally extinguishing the light in their chill grip. A cold breeze begins to play, bringing both the metallic dead smell of the deserted city the sweet scent of rot from the rent in the earth.
With a leathery rustle, something begins to haul itself from the stub of the broken tower, thirty feet above the heads of the travellers. A long, slim, midnight-black claw scrabbles at the broken masonry, followed by another. Umbral wings unfurl as the creature levers itself into the night air. It is a form of pure darkness, almost invisible against the emerging stars. Only a few of the clouds high in the air, retaining the residual glow of the sunset, provide a backdrop to gauge its size and shape. An immense, inchoate form of shadow, vaguely bat-winged, its head and body are indistinct silhouettes. Seemingly faceless, its gaze is nevertheless intense and oppressive at it regards the intruders in its realm.
A voice whispers in the minds of the adventurers, more sensation than language. "I/we greet you/welcome/join with us/feed us/become us."
"Damn it Frogshanks! 38 Oakbridge Way! Now defensive positions! Something has figured out how to harness the unstable ripples of arcane energy permeating this place to pull us here. I don't think it was for a chat!"
When the shadow beast breaks free of the tower, Ezreal drops one hand to his component bag musing aloud, "That thing is manipulating the ambient translocation field? How in the hells...?! What is it? The shadows pooled together as one form?"
"Don't ask me - looks like a dragon. Sort of."
"Looks like s~**, is more like it. D'ya think it's friendly? I sorta doubt it."
"Um , and thanks, Ez. Sorry 'bout that."
“The scriptures speak of winged beasts of shadow, unholy creatures of night and entropy,” states Lightbringer, looking across the ravine to Xativa.
The paladin holds his sword before him and bows his head, mouthing holy words as his eyes glow silver.
Rolund's eyes narrow in concentration as he attempts to determine what manner of beast they now face.
"Ware!" Rolund shouts. "We face the souls of this city given form. A nightwing!"
"Ware!" Rolund shouts. "We face the souls of this city given form. A nightwing!"
know religion: aid another if needed......
"we will see what happens when we join the silvery flame of righteousness with you, foulspawn'd creature!!!"
"I need know only one thing," Runzyl's grip tightens on his blades. "If I cut it, will it die?"
"Souls? We face souls? How do we fight souls - and aren't they the good part of you?" She takes a deep breath, "Sorry. But that sounds - bad. What do you want of me? Farlowe, what do you suggest?"
Initiative
Init:
I bet this fogger doesn't cotton to searing light.
At the end of the round.