The mists came for you, and you have been in them ever since, however long that has been. It must have been days ago, or was it just now? And you are falling. You don't feel like you are falling, but then you don't really feel anything. But whenever you try to focus on anything, to think coherent thoughts, to remember anything, a great yawning pit opens up in your stomach, and you feel reality drop away leaving you plunging into nothingness.
Thoughts flash through your mind. Images. They're not your thoughts - they can't be, because you're not thinking them. They seem to blossom in your mind, and then fade instantly, like dreams on waking. It has been happening in the endless, timeless days, the few brief seconds, since the mists came for you. Images: a tall bearded man in blue robes; a town trapped on the other side of a mirror; a sinister, laughing monkey; a silver key; an hourglass, frozen, its sand grains suspended in mid air, time never flowing. You try to focus on the images, and find yourself falling again.
You are not falling any more. You are lying, face down, on soft, sweet-smelling well manicured grass. A lawn. In front of you a great, gothic manor house rises up out of the gloom. It is neither day nor night. There is only the manor house, and around it the mists. There is light -enough to see, although you cannot tell from where it comes. Others are lying on the lawn near you, and beginning to stir.
"Am I dead?" He'll pause to beat out some smouldering spots on his pants then look around, "If this is the afterlife the priests sure got it wrong."
Celeste stands up and tidies herself absently. She looks around and then looks over the others. "That was unpleasant." She says mildly.
Celeste is a slender, attractive half-elf woman, with thick dark hair tied carelessly back and an air of distraction about her, as if she wasn't all there.
Studying the others. "Are you real I wonder?"
"If I'm imaginary, can you imagine me without the burns please?"
Celeste nods, "True, and the smell as well. I doubt I would dream something that awful."
Looking you over again, "Do you need healing?"
Corlan shakes his head and pushes himself up, thinking he'd heard stories of exactly this kind of occurrence about the dungeons beneath Castle Greyhawk. He hadn't actually ventured into them, although he was thinking about maybe doing so sometime...
Mind-reading dungeons? Surely not.
Still, he recovers his composure quickly.
Picking up his wide-brimmed hat, he says, "Say, folks, anyone see a tea party around here?"
Celeste nods, "True, and the smell as well. I doubt I would dream something that awful."
Looking you over again, "Do you need healing?"
"No, I don't think so, thanks. Mostly just smoke inhalation."
Corlan shakes his head and pushes himself up, thinking he'd heard stories of exactly this kind of occurrence about the dungeons beneath Castle Greyhawk. He hadn't actually ventured into them, although he was thinking about maybe doing so sometime...
Mind-reading dungeons? Surely not.
Still, he recovers his composure quickly.Picking up his wide-brimmed hat, he says, "Say, folks, anyone see a tea party around here?"
"Tea party?"
"Bleh!" Celeste gives her polite opinion of tea parties as she studies the manor house before them.
She ponders kicking those still laying on the ground to check if they are alive?
"Was it you I was talking to earlier, or was that just another vision? You were talking about watching people sleep? I'm Mordan by the way."
@GM_Ragged.
Does Knowledge (Planes) give Celeste any information?
"Was it you I was talking to earlier, or was that just another vision? You were talking about watching people sleep? I'm Mordan by the way."
Celeste frowns and concentrates on Mordan. "I think so?" She remembers her manners. "Celeste Toronos, Oracle of the Dark tapestry at your service."
"Nice to meet you Celeste." Mordan will give a half bow, "Oracle? Are you a priest then... A priestess I mean, begging your pardon"
"Sort of..Kind of." Celeste doesn't look happy, "Clerics chose their God. Oracles are chosen, by Gods or other forces. Want it or not."
She looks about for a stick to prod the sleepers on the lawn.
There are five of you in all, lying on a small, rectangular lawn - a garden terrace really, surrounded by a low stone wall. On three sides, there is nothing but mist beyond the wall, but the fourth side abuts what looks like the side of a large manor house. Grey stone steps lead up from the lawn to a large, ornate wooden door that stands slightly ajar, warm light spilling from the opening into grey half-light that surrounds you. You get the impression of, rather than see, the rest of the manor house, as the mists block all vision outside of the terrace.
To the left of the steps, as you look at it, a weathered stone fountain gurgles forth a small stream of water into its basin, where a number of coins glint from the bottom. To the right of the steps, a white-painted iron garden table is surrounded by five similar chairs. A plate of sandwiches, some half-eaten, sits on the table next to a small book, open but face down. There is no tea.
A tall human woman dressed all in black save for the crested yellow tabard she wears over her armor begins to moan and stir.
"Gods-blasted magic," she mutters, shaking her head. When she realizes she's not alone, she draws a longsword with graceful skill and speed, levelling it toward Mordan.
"Torlius! Carprius! To me!" she shouts into the fog. "Mogdog--to me!" When no one answers her summons, the woman tries to position herself so that there's no one behind her and lowers her blade into a less threatening position.
"It would seem you have me at a disadvantage, both in numbers and...." The woman pauses, looking for the right words or phrase. Then she smirks, shrugs her shoulders a bit, and finishes, "...and in the fact that I have no clue where in Hell I am or what the Hell is going on. Care to enlighten me?"
Corlan nods briefly to Mordan and winks at Celeste. Then, observing Lucia's theatrics, he adds:
"Oh, good, someone else to join the party."
Looking around, the man has on hand on his sword hilt but otherwise seems relaxed or even amused. Looking fastidiously down at the plate of sandwiches he says, "I'm not much for leftovers. What say we go inside and see whose lawn we're on? Sort of a courtesy heads-up, as it were... Unless of course any of you represent the owners?"
A tall human woman dressed all in black save for the crested yellow tabard she wears over her armor begins to moan and stir.
"Gods-blasted magic," she mutters, shaking her head. When she realizes she's not alone, she draws a longsword with graceful skill and speed, levelling it toward Mordan.
"Torlius! Carprius! To me!" she shouts into the fog. "Mogdog--to me!" When no one answers her summons, the woman tries to position herself so that there's no one behind her and lowers her blade into a less threatening position.
"It would seem you have me at a disadvantage, both in numbers and...." The woman pauses, looking for the right words or phrase. Then she smirks, shrugs her shoulders a bit, and finishes, "...and in the fact that I have no clue where in Hell I am or what the Hell is going on. Care to enlighten me?"
[dice=Lucky One]1d3
Mordan hides behinds the furniture, "I'm not a Witch! I'm not a Witch!" When Lucia doesn't press her attack he cautiously looks over the table, "I don't know where we are, just that it isn't Goodnestone."
[dice=Lucia Knowledge (All Untrained)]1d20+1
The architecture looks vaguely Glantrian to Lucia, to the extent that she cares about such things.
Lucia sheathes her sword when it becomes apparent that it's frightening the non-witch. Looking up at the manor house, she begins to form a hypothesis.
"I believe we're all still in Glantri," she announces to the others, "and that this may well be the manor of one of its magic-wielding nobility. It seems likely we were brought here by powerful magic...but for what purpose? Were you all traveling together before we arrived here...on the ground...all disoriented?"
"Glantri? Never heard of it, is it on Golarian?"
Celeste regards Mordan curiously, wondering at his strange reaction?
"No, I was alone when the mists pulled me here"
She wanders over to the table and looks at the book, does she recognise the language?
She wanders over to the table and looks at the book, does she recognise the language?
Let's Make Sembia Great Again! by Fzoul Drumpf
"Anybody heard of a place called Sembia?" Celeste asks, regarding the book with dubious contempt.
"I was alone, surrounded by people. But none of you were there"
"Golarion...Sembia...never heard of 'em. I was traveling with a company of men. I think we got separated in the fog." The young woman seems deep in thought, speaking to no one in particular.
"Since it appears this strange scenario isn't a device of any of you and you all seem as lost as I am, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lucia."
Corlan stops and thinks for a moment. "I know a bit about geography, from pursuing fugitives, but I have to admit I don't know where any of those places are. Corlan's the name, by the way. Corlan of Greyhawk, to be a bit more formal."
"Celeste Toronos, Oracle of the Dark tapestry. If that means anything to you?"
She draws her crossbow and prepares it. "I'm sure whatever drew a group of strangers here from faraway lands is benevolent." The last said in a sarcastic tone.
"Sembia, Golarian, Glantri. I've never heard of any of those places. Are you all from Wales?
"No, I'm Half-Elven." Celeste replies, wondering what giant aquatic mammals have to do with peoples races?
The fifth body, that of a male human, remains comatose.
The door at the top of the steps swings open and a tall, well-groomed hobgoblin, wearing the velvet livery of a servant, including a tabard emblazoned with a stylized golden letter 'A', steps out. He is carrying a plate of sandwiches on a silver platter, and a linen cloth over his arm. He pauses once he sees the group.
"Ah, please excuse me ladies, gentlemen. I didn't realize new visitors had arrived. The family are expecting you. May I take your coats? And does sir realize his trousers are on fire at the back?"
Lucia unclips the black, nonmagical hooded cloak she wears and hands it to the butler. "This may seem like a strange question, but whose manor house is this? I'm afraid I may have gotten turned around a bit in all the fog."
Then she considers the fifth unmoving guest still lying on the lawn. Scooping him/her up, Lucia fireman-carries the unconscious figure up to the mansion's front entrance.
"Quite understandable, madam. This is Chateau D'Ambreville, home of the Amber family. However, if madam is here, then I can assure her that it is because the Master invited her. The same goes for madam's companions. If the gentleman is indisposed, there is a couch just inside the hallway. Madam may leave him there and I will see that he is attended to. It is not unusual for the Master's guests to be a little... disoriented."
He places the plate of fresh sandwiches on the table, removing the old plate, and straightening out the book.
"The family invite guests to make themselves at home, until the Master returns. Dinner is being served in the dining room. If there is anything else, please ring, and I or one of the other staff will attend to you."
Corlan politely allows the others to precede him into the manor; he uses the time to carefully scan the perimeter of the clearing and to look into any of the manor windows that might afford a view inside.
Passing the butler, he murmurs, "I'll keep the cloak, thanks. It makes a handy bib."
There seems to be nothing beyond the terrace except the endless, churning grey mist. Corlan sometimes sees half-shapes begin to coalesce in the mist, but they always fade away before they are fully formed. There are no, ground floor windows at this side entrance, but there are windows on the second floor, and some of them are lit.
Ah, the Ambers--one of the noble wizarding families her liege and father had sent her to meet with to recruit some talent. Not the family she'd been planning on visiting first, but still.... She was on her own without her associates and bodyguards, but at least her mission wasn't wholly off the tracks just yet.
Lucia laid the unconscious man down on the couch as directed and asked the butler for directions to the dining hall. She suddenly found herself extremely hungry...both for food and for answers.
"Through to the grand hallway madam, then second door on the right."
Lucia nods and thanks the hobgoblin, acting like she's used to seeing evil humanoids in such non-traditional roles amongst polite society.
Mordan beats out the smouldering spot on his pants and mumbles his thanks. He'll follow the rest to the dining room, "I don't think I'm anywhere near home anymore. Best keep my gob shut until I figure out what's going on. At least these folk don't seem like they fear magic."
Celeste keeps her gear with her and follows the others inside.
The steps lead up to a large entrance vestibule, with bare stone walls and stone flags. A large ornate armoire stands against once wall, with a walking stick stand made from what may very well be a dragon's foot next to it. The hobgoblin dutifully brushes Lucia's cloak, and hangs it in the armoire.
Opposite the door that leads outside is another, wooden-paneled door. This leads to a short hallway, much more ornate, with wooden panels covering the walls, all ornately carved, and with paintings hung every few feet on the wall. A rich, golden carpet runs down the center of the hallway, leading to a door at the far end. However, halfway down the hallway on the right-hand wall, there is another door. Flaming torches that shed light, but strangely not heat, illuminate the hallway every 10 feet or so.
The hobgoblin bustles past, nods, smiles, and disappears through the door at the far end of the corridor.
The man coming out of a sleep that was so deep that it was near death snorts and wakes.
Snnnght.
He rises, wiping at his eyes.
What the hells was I drinking? It tastes like Lamashtu peed in my mouth, to say nothing of how my head feels, he groans hoarsely. He looks around in confusion.
OOOOkay. I'm, errr, not in Korvosa anymore I take it? Unless this is some sort of weird Shiver induced dream that is...
The scruffy figure adjusts his sword and armour both and strides forward, wincing with each step and shielding his eyes against the light with his hand and squinted eyes.
Are we doing some sort of party? People dressed as Goblins and that sort of thing? Or is that a really Hobgoblin in a butlers uniform?
Corlan leans over to their newly-awakened companion and speaks quietly.
"Yeah, we're all someplace weird. Probably best to just go along with it for now -- I have a feeling the hobgoblin is the least crazy thing we're going to see."
Lucia says "Thank you" (in the Goblin tongue) before the butler hurries about his other duties. Then she follows his directions to the dining hall, opening the door and peering inside before entering.
Opening the door at the far end of the short corridor reveals what can only be what the butler referred to as 'The Grand Hall'. The group finds themselves at one end of a long, wide hallway that must run the entire length of this wing of the manor. The central path, with the same wide, golden carpet as before, is well lit by chandeliers hanging from the ceiling above, yet the hallway is so wide that its sides are shrouded in shadow. Numerous large vases, suits of armour, sculptures of voluptuous maidens and other art objects can be seen, and that is only in the small area that the group can immediately see.
The hobgoblin butler can be seen striding off down the hallway, before he too disappears into the shadows, no doubt to exit through one of the many doors that lead off this large hallway.
EDIT - Map now up at the top of the page. Let me know if you can't see it.
Goblins and elves, it's like I've woken up in a children's tale
Celeste starts using Detect magic to scan her surroundings.
Mordant flinches as Celestrial casts her spell and quickly looks around at the others, "Nobody seems to object to even an obvious use of magic. I'm a stranger in a strange land indeed."