|
"Very well spoken, Glarifyur!" Bugdip looks to his dwarven comrade with admiration, before turning to the archivist, "My friend is right. Wulessa is not yet done fulfilling her life's story. You must surely see that, based on what she has done so far, much more will be provided. Adding her so early deprives her of a life not yet lived - but it also deprives you of the chance to ever see her future achievements."
Glarifyur shouts out his challenge, defiance, and then a proposal. Bugdip expresses his excitement and agreement with this brilliant suggestion. Why shouldn't a person who has lived a lifetime of experiences be able to be recorded in the annals of the archive for all of time? And why should Wulessa, who still has so many more valuable experiences yet to gain, not be allowed to gain them?
The image of Murqual pauses his gesticulation, obviously caught off guard by this alternative bargain presented to him. He holds the key, not quite offering it, but not quite reaching for the picture of Wulessa so vehemently anymore.
Suddenly a thin man appears, as blinky and disjointed as the fat man. The pathfinders recognize him as the translater in their previous dealings with the shopkeeper. His mouth opens impossibly wide, as if to scream in protest, but no audible words come out. Even still, the pathfinders all get the unmistakeable sense he is saying, What gaurantees do I have that this subject will be back? And what have you done to prove you would bring more subjects to catalog? This is all a trick, a trick to rob me of priceless information for the archive! I am the ruler here, my will is what will be done!
The thin man's eyes flash a violent red as he reaches forward to forcably rip the scroll from Glarifyur's hands, but Bugdip is having none of it. He lunges forward, waving his rapier to ward off this new threat, only to find nothing as the room melts away.
"I can feel a conflict within the archive. You must have triggered something when you bargained for my life... er, mind. Maybe the best way to describe it would be an internal struggle, though that isn't quite right for a being like the archivist who isn't constrained by time or material trappings. There is a rift in the archive now. I'm afraid there is only one way out... for all of us..."
In front of the group a marquetry-adorned teak credenza sits below the painting. A drawer slides open, and inside is an oil flask, containing oil of greater magic weapon.
Wulessa, entrapped in the painting for this portion of their mind bending journey, suddenly gets a worried look on her face. Her legs lift into the space behind her and she clings to the sides of the portrait as if they were handles, and she were being sucked or swept away into some void behind her. Panic crosses her face and she begins to scream, sliding her left hand over next to her right, on the side of the painting and hanging on for dear life as some unseen force threatens to carry her away in an invisible vortex.
The edge of the painting suddenly breaks free from the wall with Wulessa still holding on stubbornly. It swings into the wallspace like a door being yanked open from a wild storm. It catches and holds for a split second, and everything seems to be frozen in place.
Suddenly the painting breaks free once more, swinging inward to the wall. The pathfinders find themselves inexplicably sucked into a darkened vortex, following the image of their venture captain as everything they see blinks into a black void.
The sensation of spinning and falling is nearly overwhelming, made worse by the lack of a fixed perspective visually. Finally the sensation simply stops, and a slightly less dark corridor can be seen in front of the group. Taking tenative steps forward, The passage opens upon a tunnel to oblivion. Smooth glass walls stretch fifty or sixty feet, ending abruptly in a maw open to the void. The crystalline structure floating in the void’s heart somehow hovers mere feet away from the tunnel’s end. From this close, it resembles a torus of jagged crystals, slowly revolving around a core of flashing light and mist.
A form breaks away from the crystalline core and floats towards the tunnel, stopping at the end. It stares back at each of the pathfinders, daring them to come closer.
Looking closer, you shake the strange mirror image of yourself from your mind, seeing the strange creature for what it truly is.
Looking closer, you shake the strange mirror image of yourself from your mind, seeing the strange creature for what it truly is.
Looking closer, you shake the strange mirror image of yourself from your mind, seeing the strange creature for what it truly is.
The figure at the end of the hall stands like a gatekeeper, not yet ready to advance, but unwilling to let anyone, or anything, pass.
|
"You. Ugly armed guy. Let us pass. Or if you prefer the hard way .... well that can be arranged too. Gird your loins boys, this is gonna get hairy. 'Cept you Bugdip. Slimy and hairy is just plain ol' nasty.
"Мен сізді шарлар соққы шамамен сенімдімін үшін өзіңіз жабыңыз"
|
|
"What guarantee? Are you kidding me?" Bugdip cries at the figure appearing at the end of the hall as he coats his weapon with the generously enchanted oil, "You are a fool if you think Wulessa wouldn't come back here. The lengths she went to, the dedication to just finding the archives... they're extraordinary! Wulessa would not just come back here willingly, she would stop at nothing to do so - even more so if she knew you were willing to just take new memories and then let her go to form new ones.
"As for new subjects," Bugdip decides to sweeten the pot, "Search your archives for what you may know about the Pathfinder Society. Wulessa will have countless willing subjects coming with her on a regular basis. All that ends if you consume her, though. Satisfy yourself with what you have, and you shall have infinitely more. Complete the process, and all you will get is Wulessa's unfinished self. It's not really a decision now, is it?"
|
The feeling of deja' vu is nearly nauseating as the group seems to flip and pass into previous memories. As the store disappears and this new crystal hallway settles into existence a strange new form seems to block the adventurers way.
"As much fun as this has been, I am officially all funned out! Archievist, this is your last chance to allow us passage without having conflict. Let it be know, it's diffuclut to acquire new knowledge when you are destroyed. Take this opportunity to free Wulessa and us before you leave no choice."
The bricks on the smooth, round tunnel shaped walls flicker and change in a familiar effort to communicate through images.
I am conflicted. I must assimilate all knowledge, yet your proposal is intriguing to me. I lack the perspective to properly categorize or understand what has happened, but I believe my programmed purpose, at odds with my desire to add more information, has spawned a guardian. I have no control anymore, you must defeat this opposition to allow me to accept your new proposal. Subdue my uncompromising programming and purpose, and grant me the free reign to… decide.
The bricks go back to their blank, checkerboard pattern again abruptly as the strange crystalline creature starts to approach.
|
"You show some reason... we will dispatch this beast so that you can make your decision. I pray you make the right one..."
Glarifyur, having a strong tactical (and geological) sense, allows Nugats to hurl his amalgam of earth at the crystalline creature before he moves to engage and swings his axe, aiming toward a fleshy arm instead of the central crystalline body.
Once again, the brush with the unfamiliar causes Glarifyur to fail to heed the teachings of his father and set his stance first. As he swings wildly, he is thrown out of balance and he clambors to recover his defensive posture.
|
|
"You can't have her," the youth says coldly, staring at a creature he takes to look almost identical to himself. "If defeating you will give you free will, then we shall. And in doing so we will free both our friend, and you from your programming."
At that he draws free the long, slender blade and moves swiftly at the creature, thrusting out with the weapon..
The three melee combatants quickly close the gap between them and the archivist spawn before it has a chance to react with the longspear that suddenly appears in its hands.
Bugdip’s righteous wrath guides his supremely magical blade true, cutting a deep gash in the purple belly that looks so much like his own. Nugats flings his mass of earth and mud, striking the crystalline creature square, bringing it to its knee for a moment.
Glarifyur nearly trips over an imaginary catch in the glass flooring, overbalancing himself while Edgar’s rapier is turned away by the natural crystalline armor of the strange multi-armed, scarved thing in front of him.
The Archivist does not speak, nor show any emotion whatsoever. It simply tries to rush past the wall of its opponents to get to the center of the room.
To everyone’s shock but its own, It makes it to its destination, pulling out a small cube and throwing it in front of him. The cube arcs a few feet through the air before stopping, suspended in the air like it is held to some imaginary fixture.
|
|
As the dust settles from Nugats stoney strike and Bugdip's magical melee, Vorathan takes an angle to attack not from his usual perspective.
That last encounter has shown me that sometime you have to think of attacks from a new view so let see how you handle this!
With a light push up from the ground and a mindful awareness of his surroundings, Vorathan launches straight upward to make an airborne attack. Gaining enough height, he aims his sword at the four armed foe and charges from the heavens.
|
|
"Tricky bugger! I like it! Come on you louts, swing your thingys!"
In the heat of battle, Nugats is relishing in the chaos. Seeing the guardian stroll past his armed and ready companions, Nugats flings yet more earth at the Archivist.
"You like eating books and people's thoughts, how's the ground taste weirdo!"
|
|
Bugdip closes in again, ducking out of the way of the longspear. He considers aiming for the crystal, but his rapier is unlikely to be an effective tool against it.
"What do you think you're doing?" cries the grippli, trying to extract information from the thing, "You know you will be defeated and we will dismantle that crystal cube immediately after!"
|
”What manner of creature is that? This place gets stranger every passing minute!”
Without any better plan, it looks like the best way to resolve the situation is to kick some butt. Or whatever equivalent this creature has for a behind. Tybain leaps forward, trying roll under the enemy’s longspear. And once closed in, he delivers a swift kick at the four-legged monster.
|
|
The youth crouches low for a moment, drawing back his rapier, as his eyes dart to and fro assessing his companion's positions around the creature. To his left he can see Glarifyur, and an idea occurs to Edgar. With a quick skip he slides into a threatening position across from the stout dwarf, and immediately thrusts out with his blade.
Vorathan uses the magical flight to his advantage, but isn't quite used to the nuances, and his blade is turned aside by the creatures natural armor. Glarifyur recovers from his poorly balanced attack, and meets the same natural resistance as Vorathan.
Nugats flings another blast of mud and dirt, but must try to avoid clipping his companions and as a result the mudball explodes harmlessly on the side of the creation.
Bugdip and Tybain both try to move in to the crystalline creature's new position, but could never have anticipated the thing's deadly quick reaction time. It lashes out once as Bugdip approaches, and a second time as Tybain tries to prevent leaving an opening.
Twice the longspear flashes, and twice it sinks deep into the mind-projected bodies of its victims. Bugdip is overcome from the wound, collapsing to the ground before he can strike, though his verbal barb hangs in the air. Tybain takes a similarly brutal wound, though remains standing despite the blow.
Tybain's subsequent attack misses the mark, as does Edgar who trails in behind him.
The crystalline creature spins to take in the dangerous threat behind him. It speaks no words to insult it by calling it a gnome, but somehow Nugats gets that sensation that if it could, it would. It lashes out quickly with its longspear before reaching back to the other creature that hit it, and tries to rake him with his claws.
The longspear sinks deep into Nugat's right shoulder, the point piercing through his back before it is ripped viciously from the wound it created. With its second set of arms, the creature gashes Edgar across the face, but the youth is simply to nimble to allow the claws to make contact.
Its significant damage done, it skitters away from its previous, poor position to keep from getting surrounded even more.
-Posted with Wayfinder
|
|
The ferocious attack leaving Bugdip bleeding on the ground sends a ripple of severity and anger through Vorathan as he watched helplessly the body draining of life force.
Those spears are far too powerful to overcome in close melee! I need to get some distance...and now!
Vorathan kicks up from the ground and hovers 10ft above his previous stance. As he flies upward, he sheaths his sword and draws his bow.
"WE WILL MAKE YOU PAY FOR THAT!!"
|
|
"Arrgh erouof!" yells the gnome as the longspear enters his guts.
Nugats put a hand over the wound that is quickly covered in hot, sticky blood. Feeling weak, he shuffles backward to give himself more space between the creature and his soft underbelly.
Once again the swirling mass of dirt and rock flies forth, intent upon striking down the creature and saving his companions.
Seeing his blast once again sail harmlessly past the creature, Nugats begins to look around in case he needs to beat a tactical retreat.
|
|
The youth watches as the grippli falls back and drops to the floor. "Bugdip, no!" he yells, drawing back his own weapon. Edgar can feel his anger brewing, bubbling up and causing his hands to shake. What was normally meant to be a very delicate and balanced blade, used only with great dexterity and care, he pushes forward ungracefully with the sharp point.
The ungraceful thrust cannot find any opening or weakness on the strange creature, and the youth realizes that if he can survive another few seconds, he must calm down and let precision guide his strikes rather than anger.
|
|
Panic-stricken, Glarifyur watches Bugdip slip out of consciousness and fall in a pool of red. He then realizes that he must monopolize this creature's attention or he and his party will be found, dead on cushy pillows all sitting slumped in a circle. He knows just what to say to influence the creature to focus on him, but with no discernible ears he is not sure it would even hear him. Just then, inspiration strikes Glarifyur and he thinks of a way the construct might hear him. He closes his eyes and thinks each word as if he were speaking them directly to the crystalline thing.
"You are fighting for your very existence, creature. You know the Archivist is heavily considering my offer; the offer that left MY lips. He is done taking memories by force and he will have no need of you afterwards. If you want to make someone pay before you wink out of this illusion permanently, bring that longspear to me!!"
Diplomacy: You fluster your enemy. For the next minute, the target takes a –2 penalty on all attacks rolls made against creatures other than you and has a 10% spell failure chance on all spells that do not target you or that have you within their area of effect.
Although it has no body language that would be recognizable to Glarifyur, he feels confident that he has made his point and steps in; left foot forward and firmly planted in his defensive posture.
Amphibion ichor oozes out into the glass tiled floor as Bugdip's system struggles to keep the precious fluid inside his body. Vorathan positions himself to better shoot from out of range of the deadly longspear while Edgar and Nugats try to damage the archivist more, only to miss.
Glarifyur, panicked and inside the crucible of pressure and stress, shines through the chaos in a way that would make Durifyur proud. Connecting on mental wavelengths through the mental construct of space, he communicates with the guardian in a way it doesn't expect. The creatures turns to face the dwarf, clearly rattled by the paladin's bold actions.
|
|
How wrong was he on his steps. Tybain thought he could dance his way past the creature's spear, but instead he got skewered. Had the creature's aim been just an inch to he left, the cold blade would have bitten Tybain's heart. But now he still lives, and the horrible pain makes him feel very much alive.
Blood floods plenty on the masked man's armor, and he knows he will not have many moments left. But the blood is already on his hands and feet, making his footing slippery and his arms unsteady. Tybain tries to punch the opponent again, but has little success.
Tybain's attack is weakened by the blow he sustained, and the masked man cannot connect.
The Archivist, now focused on the dwarf, realizes it cannot step back to put the paladin in range of his deadly spear. Instead, it ducks between Glarifyur and Edgar, then lashes out with his second set of hands, trying to rake the dwarf's face.
His run of supreme luck doesn't appear to be holding as he nearly loses his balance on the first swing, which clearly affects the accuracy of the second. The dwarf's defenses are too strong to penetrate this time.
|
|
Feeling helpless, Nugats takes a step to flee this awful place.
But he stops himself mid-step.
No. These are my friends and companions. I have to help them.
Feeling utterly dejected, knowing that this foe is mightier than he, Nugats turns once again to face the guardian.
He steps to the side, masses of dirt and rock circling around him, stronger and stronger, until he releases the mass of earth in one final surge.
The chunks of earth fly harmlessly by.
|
|
"Be careful everyone!" the youth calls. "This beastie is is dangerous..." He pauses his speech for a moment to duck and dodge a little, hoping to draw the creature's attention. In his chest his heart rate is finally slowing, allowing him to see straighter and think clearer.
Reaching back, Edgar aligns his strike, at last guided by dexterity and grace, rather than sheer anger. He only hopes it will be enough to pierce the creature's defenses.
Edgar calms his emotions, but even distracted, the creature is too nimble to be struck by the youth's blade. Nugats calls upon the earth to aid him, but mother earth is a fickle mistress.
Vorathan waits for the perfect moment, and lets fly his bolt. It streaks towards the crystalline creature, and its aim could not be more true.
Unfortunately the defenses that the archivist set at the beginning of this combat flare to life. The small box that the creature set in the middle of the room flares with a bright light, and the arrow takes an unnatural turn in mid-air, striking the metal box instead of the creature. The arrow tip bounces off the metal casing and falls to the floor, to everyone's dismay.
|
|
Bugdip floats through the haze of tavern goers. He sucks the mosquitos of their faces with his sticky tongue, lashing out with it from a distance. It isn't polite, but the mosquitos are so delicious. Everyone clutches at red welts that his tongue raised on their faces. One tavern goer in particular is very offended. A refined elven dignitary. Finer-Inn. He mouths a question: Who are you? Bugdip is crestfallen. How could he not even remember me?
|
|
"Damn you, and your multiple legs!"
The creature has moved, and ruins Tybain's plans for hitting it while it's surrounded by his allies. And bleeding wound is a good reminder what happened last time he tried to maneuver past the longspear. So, instead of trying to hurt the creature, Tybain attacks the weapon that almost killed him. He waits until the opponent strikes out with it's spear, and grabs it before it manages to hit him. Then he pulls with all his might, hoping to release it from the archivist's grip.
At last the pathfinders begin to tip the scale of this harrowing combat in their favor as Tybain twists his shoulder, planting both hands firmly on the haft of the longspear and wrenching it from it’s grasp.
Glarifyur smirks a dwarven smirk of confidence, and hunkers down in place, pulling his axe back and pushing his shield out in front of him in a defensive posture that was drilled into his brain by his father.
Lacking its primary, devastating weapon, the creature continues to lash out with its clawed hands at the hunkered down dwarf.
Durifyur's commands ring in Glarifyur's head, and he sees exactly why his father was so strict in these drills as his new position helps deflect the second blow, which seemed destined to hit.
|
|
"Vorathan!" Edgar calls aloud, again drawing back his rapier. His teeth grind together painfully as he anticipates missing yet again. "Move opposite from me, then we'll attack together!"
The youth waits a moment with the blade held back, poised to strike forward. He waits for his companion to move on the opposite side of the creature, hoping desperately that a combined attack will allow at least blow to land.
|
|
His heart no longer in it, he is relieved to see the stalwart dwarf stymieing the creature's attacks, and then the thespian's commanding presence disarm.
Renewed by this shifting tide, Nugats once again pulls as much earth to him as he can, not yet reaching the point where he would physically harm himself, releases the earthen mass towards the source of their ire.
This time his blast is true, striking the creature in the center of it's chest.
"About time. About time you dream crazy bastard!"
Edgar slides into position. A giant ball of mud and rocks flies through the air as Vorathan dances into place. A metal box and the vile longspear clatters on the ground and for a moment time seems to stop.
The momentum shift feels like the undertow of an ocean, and it drags the Archivist’s creation swiftly and suddenly into oblivion.
Focused on Glarifyur and distracted by Vorathan, the creature cannot stop Edgar’s blade from piercing its crystalline side. To make matters worse, it could not hope to stop the onslaught of earth careening towards it. Instead of the mass of dirt shattering over the creature, this time it is the creature that shatters under the force of the blow.
Four arms and four legs twist and flicker in a strange warp of reality and the creature begins to spiral into nothingness. Before they can react, the vortex that pulls the unfettered eidolon into the void begins to suck each of the pathfinders with it, warping the walls around them. This black hole looks to take everything around it into its depths.
With a wicked, blinding flash of light the pathfinders suddenly find themselves sitting on comfortable pillows in a circle, holding hands in Wulessa’s office, back at the farseer tower as they remember it from their first visit. The curtains hang limp, and an eerie silence fills the room as they stare at each other.
Slowly, Wulessa lifts her head to look at each of them before letting out a huge sigh of exhaustion and relief.
”Oh…. I… can’t thank you enough. I thought I was a goner for sure. I am so sorry…” She stops abruptly as she begins to choke up, moisture rimming her eyes. After a moment, she clears her throat and tries to begin again, but cannot keep the shakiness from her voice.
”I am so sorry for the danger I put each of you through. I was reckless, and you nearly paid a very dear price for my mistake.” She slowly stands, grabbing the scroll from the center of the circle and reverently rolling it back up. ”There is much research to do here, and I will see it done. Clearly there needs to be more safeguards put in place to ensure the safety of those who would do the research.”
|
|
The group find themselves in much more comfortable surroundings after the Mindscape removed its effects. Vorathan takes a quick look around to make sure it's not another trick, but seeing the Venture Captain and hearing her speak calms his anxiety. As he tries to stand up his legs seem extra heavy and exceedingly numb.
Pins and needles!!! Ack!! Just don't fall over infront of everyone...
"Worry not Captain, we all understand this job is not for the faint at heart. With your aid, we prevailed, that is all that matters now."
As Vorathan finishs speaking he looks back at Bugdip with a hint of concern.
"OK сіз онда лягушка адам?"
|
|
Bugdip dances in a circle with his friends from his tribe. This is where he belongs. He should never have tried to emulate the beautiful elf who spins electricity with his blade. Bugdip cannot even do that. He is with his friend who smells... of burnt amphibious flesh. Oh no! Did I do that? He looks over to his other friend who smells... of burnt amphibious flesh and is very worried. What did he smell like before that? Oh dear, oh dear... I cannot control it! I cannot control the power that I wield! What shall I do, friend who smells... of burnt amphibious flesh? Oh, not you too! I cannot do it! I cannot push my power through my blade, it is incinerating my friends instead. I cannot do it! I cannot...
"I know how to do it..." Bugdip murmurs as he becomes conscious once more, staring at the apologetic face of Wulessa.
"Well, I would not be opposed to the idea of destroying that scroll forever," he says. This world already feels more solid and he draws his rapier to see if his dream revelation was correct. He spins it around and around and electricity crackles along its length. The small purple-bellied grippli who smells ever so faintly of puréed dragonflies grins broadly.
"Thank you for your kind words Vorathan." Wulessa blushes slightly, though the concern is still clear on her face.
"Impressive, Bugdip." She offers to the Grippli, encouraging the timid pathfinder. "While I appreciate your healthy respect for this archive now, I believe the proper precautions and safeguards can be put in place before exploring it further. And you will be already far off on your next adventure for the society, so you needn't worry about the same thing happening again, my friend." She smiles a genuine smile, finally breaking through some of the tears. "Surely there isn't so many places in this land that force you into an imaginary landscape of the mind?"
"I shall write a full report for what happened here, and you can be sure that all of you will get glowing evaluations. Valsin still has not yet failed to send the best when requested. Of course, don't forget to write up your own reports. You may take whatever time and space you need to do it here before you leave. As Master Shaine has always said, writing things down as soon as possible helps make sure that you remember the most details."
She smiles, eventually walking over to her desk.