Croc attacks
Anumil swayed aside as his enemy missed wide.
Round 5___________
"No no no. It's more like this!" He commented to the creature.
Anumil sprang attacked, lashed out at his opponent with his rapier again.
for a possible piercing, magic and precision damage.
for a possible extra piercing and magic damage.
Then he sprang back fifteen feet again.
Huesto stammers as he discerns what attack Corum is conjuring. "N-n-no! C-come aid meee!!"
The force bowls him over.. his skin blisters and blackens, and his limbs curl like the gnarled branches of the tangled wood.
Everything changes. Everything becomes drained of color... the buildings are simple stone-block, the stage is dull and weathered, the grass looks more like the tips of a broom's bristle.. dull green in color. An omnipresent low-pitch hum (which you had not realized was there since you'd arrived) winds down and stops.
------ ------ ------
You hear a faint and familiar voice in your heads.
"Why aren't they waking up..."
Then another.. subhuman and shrill "Adrenalin makes the bind stronger... mayhaps be in battle, aye-yes? I putter with levels... make adjustmentses..."
A third voice.. deep rumbling.. otherworldly reverberation "Leng has arrived... both this world and there. I will plunge deep - to not draw them here."
------ ------ ------
The sky darkens.. strangely. The blue in the air thins as if diluted. You see the black of night beyond.. There is a massive sphere in the sky - larger or nearer than Golarion's sun. It is exploding, but frozen in the state of exploding.. a bright flash, and the first few chunks blowing apart.
Also in the sky is a colossal object which looks like a metal-hulled sailing vessel stacked upside down on another. It hangs unmoving - who knows how many miles away, the prow seems to be pointed toward the center of this land mass.
A purplish crackling ribbon flashes across the sky, and everything.. stars, ship, and exploding planet have shifted slightly. The ship is nearer, the flash is brighter, and the hunks of earth have broken further from the planet.
The feral bulk fades from the werewolf leader. He is badly injured, but looks unconcerned with his wounds. The fight has left him. He glances to the sky.
"There are tunnels to the center under the platform. The Third Fold of Leng has come. We will wake the defenses, and fight at the Matron's side. Take the innocents and go."
You wake - strapped to a large device... like a gothic sculpture - an abstract tree - with the entire group lying on the dark iron boughs.
A blue face with a chin sprouting tendrils like a beard peers over you as he loosens your restraints. A wrinkled bald derro with eyes as intense, but not quite as wild as others of his kind.
"Howzit you're feeling??"
Those of you who know him, see Mayor Doyle. He has a rapier to the throat of Otholear near the doorway of the dark stone chamber.
"You see Otholear... by infusing their distant clones with their dreamselves... I uh... don't precisely understand enough to explain. Unfortunately.. things will not likely go well for their clones. The pitting of Leng against the Matron will cost some collateral damage."
"uhn... What now? Where is the stage? What IS this?" Anumil spoke out loud, looking around at the strange chamber.
His hand felt around for the grip of his rapier.
Disoriented a bit, Corum looks with distrust and disdain at the mayor.
"I don't know who these derros and blue creatures are, but I know I don't trust you Mayor Doyle."
"Where are we? What is this place... and who is this Mayor Doyle, and why is he not trustworthy?" Arthyl looks around confused.. shakes his head to clear it a little.
Sunny blinks and looks around muzzily,
"Where we be? Where'd tha' peoples go?" She begins to feel around herself... and where she is... and possibly trying to sit up.
Mayor Doyle winks slyly at Corum, then gestures to door-less lockers to your left. "Your belongings... " Doyle gives Migthwet the aberrant derro a sidelong glance as the blue creature sheepishly fiddles with dials and levers - avoiding his gaze.
"It would appear something went awry with your recent memories.. no matter, from the beans Otholear has been kind enough to spill, you've done enough to ensure the Crone's demise-"
Otholear snorts, "Pfft. Not just the Matron.. thousands will die.... Mister Doyle here has employed our means to gain access to the Retreat, but not for your return. Your clones on the retreat have no idea-"
Mayor Doyle snaps back "Ahem.. I'll tolerate you illuminating them.. fishing for pity."
Otholear eyes all of you with Mayor Doyle's rapier still to his throat. "The Retreat exists outside of time... that is why it is only accessible through dream travel. We use aboleth-powered cloning technology to create copies of ourselves - which become receptors to our dream selves. The Retreat leeches the energy of an exploding planet... immeasurable power.. it's enough to feed to time-stopping arcane technology. It has also attracted the attention of Leng. They invaded centuries ago, but have been frozen in a time-suspension field. The anomaly you caused, however, forced our constructs to shift power from temporal suspension to phantasmal stability. The invading forces of Leng will reach the surface in days. Your copies, and the thousands of innocents-"
Mayor Doyle jumps back in to wrap up... "And since the Crone.. or Matron as she's known in Feyeater's Retreat - is weak from our battles against her, they will slaughter her... hit her hard where she's gone to take refuge."
Through the doorway beyond, you see an underground pool. Those who've been here before recognize it as the stone chamber underneath the "hag's house in the village of Doyle's Run.
Corum nods: "Major Doyle, you need to explain why we do this for you when your intentions have never proven to be honorable?"
"While you did not in so many words volunteer for this, our interests are aligned. We wish the final death of a great evil, do we not? She would have continued to haunt us if were not to snuff her out."
"Regardless... there are more important things to worry over than my moralities and spotty past. The Third Fold of Leng has come to Golarion as well, and has very likely made the same false assumption as your druid friends since your procurement..." He casually gestures to indicate Arcthyl. "Otholear and his enclave's main operation is to the north... Fort Hook. They've apparently been under assault by your allies, and some of yours... " He looks to Arcthyl, then the others. ".. but now.. Leng has arrived. The Third Fold will be relatively vulnerable until they have attuned. After that, they will be able to pluck minions from time... any thing or anyone who's walked those lands."
Corum nods: "I am sure we can count on your full support. You will, of course, be coming along with us. Unfortunately you past actions require you to be in sight at all time rather than being nefarious behind our backs."
Quickly, Anumil made his way to the equipment locker to grab his sword belt, pack and crossbow.
Unsure as to what exactly was going on, he felt inclined to follow Corum's lead.
Sunny looks around at the room she finds herself in and her friends, and the Mayor and the Dwarf for a few moments more. Even as Corum strikes up a conversation and Anumil bounces into motion.
She turns and lowers her legs over the side of the table/bench upon which she woke up before standing and making sure she has her balance, followed by a cursory self poking seeming to simply check herself out and that she has every thing where it's supposed to be.
Once she seems happy with what she's found, Sunny pads over and stands her naturally tanned self in front of Mr Doyle. Her large, innocent, blue eyes gazing into his.
If he passes, he knows Sunny is about to try and throw a punch into his head and gets his full AC.
If he doesn't... then Sunny gets to hit his 'Flat footed' AC, plus her sneak att damage.
Arcthyl wakes and sits up... looking about in confusion, not knowing these strangers that his new friends seem to already know. He scowls at being referred to as friends with folks he isn't actually sure of.
"My friends? My allies? and who or what is a Leng and a third fold? and why do these things concern us?"
"Hmmm.. Oh the details... who knows. This is all second hand from scouts and underlings who never seem to get to the point quickly enough to keep my attention for the details...." He lightly scratches his cheekbone as he steals a glance.
"I've gotten to the point where unless they've dragged themselves in bleeding, or have.. ahem.. brought me something sparkly, I just say Ah.. when they've stopped.. prattling on."
Doyle remains distracted enough for Sunny to come close.
Otholear is too distracted to notice Doyle's rapier and attention veering away from him.
Migthwet appears distracted in general.
Sunny suddenly spins a heel kick into Mayor Doyl's face with complete surprise.
"You! You is a bad man! Ye has gone made me rilly angry!" She points a finger at Doyle even as she begins to rant and rage in sudden obvious fury.
"Ye be usin' peoples fer yer own ends. Not even botherin' ta' be as'plainin' whut t'is be happenin'! Ye dun't be carin' about others! Ye know there be peoples all trapped in thrall an' dangers an' stuffs. With ye in't doin' nuthin' ta' help 'em be gettin' out! Whut about us?" She points to her tanned self and her friends,
"We bin poked an' prodded an' put ta' sleep an' be wakin' up in'a strangest places an' why? All fer yer own dealin's!" Sunny fumes,
"Well! I say 'Enough'! We in't gon'a be doin' nuffin' more till we's start gettin' some un'erstandin' of whut t'is be goin' on. Like gettin' words ta' as'plain things so's we can be doin' our bestest fer peoples who be needin' helpin'!" She finishes emphatically, even as she turns and steps into the room, arms folding in stubborn defiance of Mayor Doyle.
Mayor Doyle's head rocks back with the shot. Otholear scoots from the rapier's reach before Mayor Doyle can recover... and then further away as Sunny unleashes her tirade.
Migthwet the tentacle-chinned derro rushes to his side. Doyle shrugs off the creature's aid as he sheathes his rapier, tugs his waistcoat straight, and retrains the locks of hair - knocked out of place by the blow.
"Righteous might and do-goodery is useless... not to mention rather dull when not pitted against true evil. I merely set you on a path toward a bit of it... as the hands of fate might do. Should I warn the divine shapers of destiny to expect such a thump, tongue lashing, and.. naked aggression as well?"
Otholear swipes a silver syringe from Migthwet's dark iron console. He turns it needle up and taps as he gently plunges the air out of the indigo fluid within. "This is what brings the sleep state." He holds it out toward the group for someone to take, and jerks his head toward Doyle. "Just a suggestion.... I'll explain what I can after you decide how he should be dealt with."
Doyle harumphs indignantly.
"I'm still not sure of what's going on here, but it's starting to become clearer. We were put to sleep with that strange fluid and made to have experiences in an alternate place or plane. Perhaps the same should be done to this fellow and his minion... set them on a new path, as they did to us, see how they likes it."
"Yes, I think Mayor Doyle will be leading this assault after taking slumber. I do not trust him with our sleeping bodies to honor any deals or agreements while he is helpless. It is time to cut the puppet strings."
"The retreat has existed for many millennia. Created by an enclave of Thassilonians and a delegation of Eoxians - each had both complementary knowledges, and impending global catastrophe. The Thassilonians intended to return after earthfall. The Eoxians were buying time .. in attempt to determine why their young were being born soulless."
"The retreat was then co-opted by an abomination - the Matron.. the spawn of ancient outcast gods of creation and dreams. It took decades to rid the retreat of her. A man known now only as Henry... made contact - coincidentally with an ancestor of Mister Doyle. Henry guided Doyle's ancestor both on the mutation of derro brain mold, and the construction of the dream stations such as this - the practical application of which the newly enlightened derro would be able to understand. It took an army of recruited dreamers to drive her out. I was among them.. a young man then. After her defeat we - many of my fellow recruits - decided the project need to come to an end."
"We'd freed the minds of the citizens, but... learning their world was "false".. and that it would take centuries of their time for us to learn how to return to Golarion... drove them into despondence and in some indelible madness. So.. the dream-shaping continued. Her three daughters were restored to power in their respective lands, and the legacy remained. We've since found this has united the psyches of the masses in a way which bolsters the efficiency of the Retreat's.. inner workings."
Mayor Doyle stretches and yawns.
Otholear gives Mayor Doyle a mildly disdainful look... "In recent decades we've been close to reintegration with Golarion... the end of the Retreat without the blood of thousands as a price. However.. influential factions here have found use for it... for their own gain...."
"If you wish to help... I see two ways you could do some good."
"Convince meddlers to lend aid, or at the very least not stand in our way. I know of four... though the locations are vague on the most powerful pair. I have no doubt they all have both resources and desire to protect their privacy."
"Or... you could return with me... Fort Hook is the center of my group's operation. If you could help broker peace between my allies and yours - the Black Arrow is leading the siege.. blaming us for the recent rash of "procurements" carried out by derro and duergar. We will need to stand together against the Third Fold of Leng - "
Mayor Doyle butts in.. "-And middle management will be free hurrah.... We should go after the inner circle. The dreamers who are the Matronguard."
Otholear just rolls his eyes.
Corum nods, listening attentively to Otholear.
"We should rally one of the meddlers to our common cause. Using this newfound ally should help lift this siege when we return with a new convert that can speak on your behalf. Send us to the one you are most sure of, in location and, hopefully, open-mindedness. Major Doyle can come too."
Sunny listens to Otholear, though Doyle's actions garner him a glare.
"How might we be gettin' tha' peoples free?" She asks.
Anumil looked back and forth, trying to follow the thread of the conversation.
"Before you balk at the distance to these locations... The Retreat has initiated a defense condition time ratio... an hour of their time will pass for every three weeks of Golarion time... roughly. Though aiding our cause would be beneficial to all... the most likely to amenable are Aelo Doestes in the border mountains of Druma, and Shmad Blackrock - who has a set-up in Cassomir of Taldor."
"Those I'd suspect to be less friendly are somewhere in Nisroch... we believe in or around Graveside, and northwest Andoran... somewhere in the Aspodell Mountains."
He looks to Sunny.. responding to her question. "If and when the invaders are dealt with, normalcy can be restored... a reverse in the time ratio will give us the time we need to continue working toward re-integrating the Retreat with Golarion."
Sunny smiles happily at Otholear,
"So's we can be helpin' tha' folkks?" She gives him a quick hug before stepping back.
'Okeys, what're we gon'a do first? She asks.
'Let's go after the invaders."
Otholear pulls a jewel-topped rod from the derro's console, and hands it to you. "Don't lose it, sell it, trade it... just show it to those you intend to parley with... they may be less guarded knowing you know of this dream world. Simply put, each is bound to an engineered aboleth spawn which powers these machines...."
He then gestures toward the larger adjoining chamber and the rising spiral stairs within. "Let's get topside. With luck, someone in town will have left a map behind... I'll mark the locations to best of my knowledge." He grabs the derro, and nods toward Doyle to suggest someone take care of him.
The stairs lead up to the interior of the "hags' house" in Doyle's Run... though it is completely gutted. Otholear waits for everyone to come up at the top of the stairs. "Village is empty... no sign of a fight. Looks like everyone just left... erm hands full... could someone get the door." He nods to indicate the front door to exit the gutted hag house.
Sunny nods and takes Doyle by the arm and tugging, indicating that he should follow her lead. Any reticence attracting her glare and obvious displeasure, should be be slow in complying.
Arcthyl moves forward and opens the door, and steps outside... looking about curiously.
Anumil nodded his agreement with Corum, and followed Arcthyl out the door.
Across the vacant market square - a little over 100 feet away, you see a turban-wearing figure in robes made of leather strips sitting (motionless as if meditating) near the fountain with its head lowered. The palm of one hand is down to the ground, two scrawny bestial arms sprout from the other shoulder under a large feral-faced pauldron. Behind him is a large egg shaped pod.. construct(?) with a raised top hatch. It appears to have seating inside for a rider. Six appendages like beetle legs keep it upright.
Other than the weird little arms, it looks like a denizen of Leng.
Sunny continues to tug at Mister Doyle's sleeve leading him towards the door out along with every one else.
Anumil, noticing the strange figure, immediately eased back through the doorway and waved at his companions inside. The upraised fist 'stop, enemy in sight' sign.
Otholear mentioned the Third Fold.
You have heard of "the Fold" .. they were a large contingent of denizens who were cut off from the shared consciousness long enough to permanently sever the connection... (some kind of break in time/space) Along with some "degeneration", they soon mutated to become their own separate but complete shared consciousness.
The third fold must refer to a another denizen offshoot species resulting from a similar occurrence.
You also noticed that the feral faced pauldron is actual living... the humanoid figure has the head and forelegs of some beast in place of his left arm and shoulder.
"Is that one of the enemy?" Whispered Anumil, who swept his hat off to peek out the door without being seen.
Arcthyl advises, "That creature noticed us, it was starting to react as we closed the door. Did you all notice that it's left arm and shoulder were actually the head and legs of some kind of other beast? Like they were fused together somehow...." He shivers slightly in disgust at the unnatural form he'd witnessed...
Corum explains:
"These are multidimensional beings from Leng. Severed from a shared consciousness, they formed their own offshoot called the Third Fold. I would assume it is alien and hostile until proven otherwise."
Sunny forgets Mister Doyle and puts her ear t the door to discern what the critter outside might be doing.
Anumil turned to the rest and arched an eyebrow.
"Then, shall we go out and kill it?"
Still with an ear pressed against the door Sunny frowns a little,
"It might be friendly...?"
Mayor Doyle snorts in reaction to Sunny's optimism, then smiles in appreciation of it.
"Not likely..."
Corum nods as he enlarges the druid, "Preemptive attack. "
They have innate divination abilities, and their bite drains dex.