Blades of Cormyr

Game Master ShakaUVM

I take some of the crystals (about a quarter of them) and when I get to the bottom I cast light.

"No objections here." Marcus replies catching his breath and following suit to takING some crystals.

You light up the area, but again it's almost a maze down here. It will take some time to search.

3d20 ⇒ (7, 9, 12) = 28

You do hear movement coming from one corner of the room.

Walking over, you see a strange sight. A human-like figure, made of what appears to be made of nothing but *needles* glued together, is rotating a long wooden stave on a lathe, shaving it down to size. It doesn't seem to be paying much attention to its work, as it is mumbling to itself under its breath. When the stave breaks from being whittled down too far, it simply tosses it aside and begins turning another piece.

"What is that?" Edmond whispers, looking at Havelock.

Arcana: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

You are stumped, for once.

It looks like a combination of construct and swarm, but is also something like a human in shape and movement.

I explain this to the group.

"Is it... can we talk to it? Should we?"

3d20 ⇒ (3, 10, 4) = 17

You can't make out what it is mumbling under its breath from here.

Can we make out that it's saying anything at all?

It does seem to be forming sentences, with words, but it's just mumbling constantly like Rainman.

It snaps another stave, mumbles to itself, and vanishes. You hear mumbling coming from further down the maze. Approaching you see the same or different creature carelessly whittling a stick of wood.

-Posted with Wayfinder

"So, do we follow?"

"No where to go but onward. Count?" Marcus replies and turns, obviously referring to each count respectively.

You approach it. It ignores you. What do you do?

"Pardon me, but do you have any idea where we can talk to Lord Illance?"

The creature immediately dissolves into a pile of needles, which reforms around you with shocking speed. The needles don't hurt, but you are surrounded by a cloud of them.

"Are you real? Or is this another gambit by Mycofarox?"

The hissing comes from around you, seemingly from the vibrations of the needles themselves.

"Who?"

The entity hisses at you, and needles pierce you from all directions.

You take 2d6 ⇒ (5, 5) = 10 damage, and Fort Save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21 are not nauseated.

It releases you suddenly, reforming five feet away, and bows to you. "My apologies. You are real. You are looking for Hocuba Illance? He is busy right now."

The entity looks around. "Oh dear. What year is it? Have we fallen behind? Could you be a dear and finish this wand for me? I absolutely *must* get back."

Edmond is absolutely confused by everything that is going on.

Seems reasonable.

I inspect the wand. I guess.

It hands the wand to you. You realize you have no idea what you're supposed to do with it.

This is what laborers are for after all, and you just let one boss you around.

Oh, I meant that I see what type of wand it is and stuff.

1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

It's a wand of cure moderate wounds, or will be when it's finished. If ever.

Edmond chimes in, "If Illance is busy, when would he be free? What we are doing is terribly important."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16

The creature dissolves into a pile of metal needles and reforms around Edmond. "Lord Illance is leading a charge against the demons of the Underdark. I MUST GET BACK. I will meet you here again in an hour of your time."

He dissolves into a pile of needles again, which rustle along the ground to a far corner in the room.

[b]"Hm.. We're rather pressed to find Hocuba Illance, so I'm afraid I can't help you with that. Do you have any idea where we should start?"

"I wouldn't push to bard he- it doesn't seem as though it's... of while mind at the moment." Marcus cautions.

Sorry about the brief activity, I just got done with a move.

If there are any apparent directions to continue moving forward, Marcus suggests we do so to seek more answers. If there are none apparent to him, he only cautions Havelock.

You could probably follow the swarm of needles without much effort.

"That felt peculiar... the needle swarm thing, I mean." he looks to the two, "I'm a smart enough man to know when I'm not the smart enough man. I will follow your lead on this, Count Havelock, but my instinct is that whatever Illance is doing to thwart the Underdark we should make sure he succeeds."

"Hm... I doubt we can do much to assist, but I'm sure every little bit helps. Onward?"

You follow the needle swarm as it slides along the ground, moving at speed.

It approaches a large golden table (as in a large table, made completely of solid gold - Marcus appraises its value somewhere in the millions of gp). It is holding only a single item - a human skull, whose eye sockets and teeth have been filled with precious gems. The needles pour into the mouth of the skull and vanish.

I cast Identify.

I cast Identify.

Neither the skull nor the table are magical items, and have no spell effects up on them.

That said, the needles did vanish into thin air, but your spell can find no trace of where it went.

Is there anything else nearby of note?

>Is there anything else nearby of note?

Many more of the crafting stations. It appears this place could host several hundred artisans all working at once, but the place has fallen into disrepair and many of the stations are covered in thick dust. 3d20 ⇒ (18, 6, 11) = 35 Perhaps decades of dust.

As you are looking around, the skull slowly starts rising up off of the table, rotates slowly around, and turns to face you all.

Vetinari 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23 recognizes it as something called a "demilich", the faded remnant of a powerful undead wizard. While not as dangerous as a lich, it is still rumored to be extremely powerful.

It regards you all with its amethyst eyes, and says nothing, simply hovering there above the table.

"Is there something we can do for you?"

The voice sounds like it is coming from a thousand miles away, dry and faint. "You... want to fight the demons of the Underdark? Then enter."

-Posted with Wayfinder

Seeing as no doors were mentioned in the description, I'm going to take it that it's reasonable to assume it means itself or some other means.
"Enter... how, exactly? Marcus says in a hesitant voice, not certain if he wants to know.

"Touch.... my... eyes...."

Havelock has heard that demiliches can sometimes trap peoples' souls, but this skull looks like a trustworthy fellow.

Sorry, I've been busy.

I walk hesitantly over to the skull.

It regards you with its ancient crystalline eyes. Although it radiates menace, you also realize that it has not attacked you yet.

"Well... into the unknown?"

'Why not?", I say, touching the eyes.

You touch the eyes and with a rushing sensation are sucked bodily inside.

-----

You find yourself standing in a bright green meadow. The sun is shining, birds are chirping, and the crash of arms sounds from nearby. Looking to your right, you see hundreds of knights, gaily dressed in polished plate mail and colorful tabards engaging in a grand melee. They seem to be swinging full force at each other with metal swords and maces, but when one takes a blow that should sever an arm or neck, the victim merely crumples to the ground, helpless.

After several minutes, only two competitors remain. One is an old man in robes wielding a shield-staff in one hand, and sword in the other, the other is a giant of a knight in full plate, wielding a massive greatsword. Despite the size of the sword, he maneuvers it with the deftness of a rapier, and puts forth a terrifying combination of blows at the old man, who does his best to parry, block, duck, and roll out of the way of the attacks that look like they could split him in half.

The old man finally manages to maneuver behind the giant, and trips him with his staff. The giant plants his sword in the ground to steady himself, and without looking, kicks the old man directly in the jaw, knocking him out.

A whistle blasts across the field, and the fallen knights return to consciousness. The old man rises, rubbing his jaw, and slaps the giant on the back. "Well done, Sir Gregor! The souls are yours!" Reaching into his robes, the old man pulls forth a crystal vial containing faintly glowing orbs drifting inside. The knights burst into applause, though with some jealousy, and begin talking amongst one another. They do not seem to notice your presence yet.

To your left, there is what appears to be a merchant's row set up for the tournament. Several of the vendors whistle to get your attention, and beckon you over. They present to you a bewildering variety of arms, armor and magic items, all for sale to you at reasonable rates, for very small pieces of your soul.

Doing some math, you realize that they're valuing your soul as worth 20,000gp, and can acquire basically any item in the game for a commensurate percentage of your soul. A +1 weapon (2,000gp) would require 10% of your soul, for example.

Marcus cringes, and reluctantly touches the eyes as well.