[dice=Kn: Arcana]1d20+16
[dice=Kn: Planes]1d20+16
The soul cages are reaper vessels that have been frequently encountered within their domains in the Deep Gray.
Based on existing reports, they appear to be able to store collected souls, as well as absorb and trap the the psychic energies of other beings. They also seem to be linked to prison pocket dimensions that can be used to trap and keep victims.
The vectors for these abilities seem to be the mouths at the front of the vessels -- creatures devoured by these maws can have their pysches or souls trapped in the egg-like construction at the back of the vessel.
The holds of the ship contain enscorceled slaves.
Reports of the vessels indicate that they seem to hold many more reaper troops, most arachnidian jem'hadar, then would be indicated even by their already impressive size. Each seems to be able to disgorge hundreds or even thousands of the spider-like monstrosities from their depths.
There have been reports of much larger versions of these vessels within the reaper domains of the Deep Gray.
[dice=knowledge (planes)]1d20+25
"That is an impressive piece of equipment friend. What purpose and use does it have here?" He asks, wanting to make sure it wasn't going to be used against him and his companions.
"That is an impressive piece of equipment friend. What purpose and use does it have here?" He asks, wanting to make sure it wasn't going to be used against him and his companions.
The caneloth again breaks into a disconcerting rictus. Acrid ichor drips from between its serrated incisors as the strange entity lifts its orchid-tinted black lips in a snarl.
"To gather what is ours, little demon, for the Watchers always claim their due..."
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The story thus far...
Hearken strange, my name is Slavathras of the Lands of the Dead, Silan Tilak of the elves who are the Makers of Thought, and Mind Shadow according to the Compact of the Company of the Broken Tablet…’
Thus have I heard...
In the early days of the Age of Heroes, the dolorous form of Destiny's Chariot came to wander amongst the interminable reaches of the Great Alluvial Sand Waste's most south-easterly reaches, an exceptionally barren corner of the Lands of the Seven Kingdoms on the Continent of Hargalor which dominates the southern hemisphere of this blasted world.
This fabled moving palace was once the luxurious summer domicile of Kalid-Ma, sorcerer queen of the vast, ancient, and terrible city of Kalidnay, it was rescued a millennia past, following the vast city's sudden destruction at the hands of Borys the Dragon Emperor of the Million Isles and his accomplices among the sorcerer kings of the other Seven City States of the Tablelands. Before the final assault, in which Borys massive army of undead minions breached the Citadel of Kalidnay, the palace of Destiny’s Chariot was rescued the agents of the city’s House Vordon before their hijra to the north, to seek the shelter of the Ringing Mountains.
Some stories of the time, if they can be believed, recount that the trader Ah Pteh-menes of House Vordon arranged to have Destiny’s Chariot borne on the swift currents of a mighty subterranean torrent which surfaced in the famed Subaqueous Bazaar of Kalidnay’s Trade District.
Whatever the truth of these, and other tales of the ancient world, the redoubtable merchant enclave, though given birth in the lost city of Kalidnay, was reborn in what would, in our latter days, become the Free City of Tyr. For many years, they served Kalak and his Templars, and were the scourge of the Free Men of the Ringing Mountains, who occupied villages near the ancient elemental shrines of the Rhulisti, including Amlitkayek of the Eternal Flame.
But just as they had been reborn in former times, so they faced ruin in these latter years, for the end of cruel Kalak's rule in Tyr brought the simultaneous abolishment of human bondage.
And thus Clan Ashtarte-Athirathu of House Vordon found itself impoverished, fallen from their recent majesty, and dispatched its favorite daughter, the Lady Almah, alongside her ever-dutiful major-domo Garavel, and my own humble person, to restore the forgotten trading post known variously as Kelmarane or Kell’Tamm-Hammath. This lost possession of House Vordon lay far off, in the vicinity of the Lost Oasis, and, with the reclamation of this prize, the fortunes of the beleaguered clan stood in the gaze of a fresh up-surging, like a desert fountain thought dried up by the weltering sun.
Destiny's Chariot wended amongst the dunes in a strange journey astride the ruins of its birthplace, when its grand progress was arrested by unexpected apparitions in the distance, portending an unexpected life still stirred within the devastated city state.
What more, the caravan was halted by the admonitions of Faalcuun the Magnificent, a former apprentice of the supposedly long-dead sorcerer-king Dregoth of Giustenal. This terrifying, decrepit t'liz, a horrible remnant of a half transformed dragon, restored to a pale semblance of life as an essence-drinking undead abomination, dispatched its herald Nalcaros of Ebe from the cyclopean pyramidal Green Age vessel known as the Pavilion of Mercy to stop the progress of House Vordon before the ruined city.
Lady Almah dispatched a delegation to parlay with Nalcaros, the herald of Faalcuun, and likewise an undead creature. He belonged to a forgotten race, the gnomes, and stood as a brutal testament to the violent age of the Cleansing Wars.
Nalcaros ushered our heroes into his master Faalcuun's presence within the heights of the t’liz’s throne within the Pavilion of Mercy, where Dregoth's former apprentice revealed deep mysteries to those gathered hastily before his awful personage.
For the ancient city of Kalidnay had been reawakened -- the black orbs containing the minds of the sleeping sorcerer-queen and her five greatest Templars had been reawakened, and with them the Great Orrery, a colossal black ring that hung in the heavens above the ruins, and offered an open gate to dark powers wishing to enter Athas.
What more, this unanticipated stirring of the ancient sorcerer-queen's hateful spirit had drawn emissaries of the other sorcerer-kings of the Tablelands, who hoped now to secure the power for which they had felled their sister over a millennia ago -- the greater seed, an obsidian orb of great power which derived from a world accessible only through the portal of the Great Orrery.
And so it was that the Shadow King Nibenay, Hamanu, the Lion of Urik, and the Dread King Dregoth had all sent their most trust worthy servants to wretch power from the ruins.
And they should shortly descend upon the once sleeping city...
In addition, Faalcuun revealed to our heroes that the source of the greater seed, the Great Orrery, and other obsidian wonders of the Green Age was not, as they supposed, the halflings or the other powers of the age, but a species of ancient malevolent entities who wandered the stars, known only by the name of Stoneburners.
These entities, and their ancient rivals, the Glassmakers, were in fact responsible for all psionic, as well as many of the most potent magical arts of Serinbaal the Lands of Torment.
Strengthened by the fell powers of Faalcuun, channeled from the sun within the Pavilion of Mercy, our redoubtable heroes decided to attempt an ingress of the city, whereby they would quiet the minds of Kalid-Ma and her Templars stirring in the four Talons of the Mother, and the Great Temple of the Eternal Queen at the heart of the recently slumbering city. By disabling the pylons at each of these locations, the threat to the Lands of Torment and their inhabitants would be at least temporarily halted.
Based on the expert guidance of your trusty narrator, our heroes resolved to attempt an entrance to the ruins through the Riese, the name of the vast subterranean complex within the ancient diamond mines which tower above Kalidnay, and were once ruled by the implacable will of the High Templar Khnum-Khamunkephres.
However, upon arriving at the dead fire-mount, our valiant heroes found the complex not so abandoned as they might have expected -- and instead interrupted a gruesome sacrifice made by the servants a mysterious soul-trading fiend who now ruled the mines. This mysterious entity, known only as the Master of the Aerie, had apparently arrived recently from the City of Brass preaching the bloody gospel of Ymeri, Elemental Princess of Fire, and quickly converted the mutated remnants of Kalidnay’s population which inhabited the diamond mine, as well as the distorted psionic creatures which governed them, to the teachings of the Cult of the Auroric Inferno.
Helping the heroes was a small party from a distant world, deposited in Serinbaal by the Great Orrery, and led by a mysterious draconic sage known as Tlamtlistillit the Shadowborn. However, these new travelers vanished as quickly as they had arrived, spirited away by some power possessed of this mysterious spell wielder known as the Shadowborn.
However, their quick intervention allowed the emissaries of Almah to save several intended sacrifices -- including a halfling warrior and druid, and a noble elf maiden of the Serpent Sing tribe, one Amunet-Ra – from the greedy mouth’s of the Master’s Fire Drakes.
The intellect devourers, once the masters of the mines and the misshapen remnants of ancient Kalidnay’s people until the arrival of the Master, parlayed with our heroes. On behalf of the enigmatic Master, they sought an alliance against a mysterious threat -- the ‘serpent spiders’, a race of extra dimensional wanderers who had recently come to the dark places beneath Kalidnay, and vied with the devourer's own Master for control of the ruins of the ancient city-state. These serpent spiders had installed themselves in vast arcologies beneath the Rift of Baltoush, a deep ravine south of the ruins.
Among those saved from peril, the halflings revealed that they had joined an expedition from distant Raam betrayed by disguised dray -- apparently a new race of shape-changing draconic beings sworn to Dregoth of Giustenal. The dray were adherents of a terrible cult known as the Children of the Endless Gray that had infested Raam and other city states of the Tablelands. A society of skin-stealers, the cruel ritualists of the dray flensed one of the caravan guards in the sight of the other captives. These dray had then traded the captives to the morlocks, intellect devourers, and their mysterious Master who now ruled the mines in return for safe passage.
And so it was revealed that Dregoth's servants had already entered the ruins at the behest of their terrible master, but our heroes possessed no means of revealing the dray's arcane disguises.
At the urging of the rescued elven maiden, Amunet-Ra, our heroes made a short journey to a forward camp of the Serpent Singer tribe, which resided within a ruined temple. There, one of the leaders of the tribe, the Dreaderseer Anubisemonekeh, parlayed with our heroes, and agreed to exchange the desired knowledge of aura-reading, which might reveal the presence of the disguised dray, in exchange for their provision of ancient knowledge from the kreen tomb that lay astride the temple where were gathered the elves.
While meeting with the elves, a mysterious stranger, known as Cae, arrived on the scene, claiming to hail from Balic by the shores of the Estuary of the Forked Tongue. He sought, or so he said, to reunite with his departed mistress, Arsinoe of House Nicephorus of the city-state of Balic.
And thus our heroes resolved to enter the tomb of the ancient kreen, servants of the Red God Dargulin, an ancient allay of the corrupted pyreen Rajaat.
A fierce melee with flying abominations at the entrance of the tomb dispatched one of our redoubtable heroes, who had no time to mourn.
Our heroes were again assaulted by the forces of the serpent spiders -- a party of xulgath and their animal servants. After a fierce melee, the remaining xulgath druid Troodon began to reveal much of its new masters and their desires. The serpent spiders were a race of shape changers and dimension-skippers that hailed from a distant world which had also been visited by the power of the enigmatic Stoneburners who had taught Rajaat the defiling arts, and the abomination of nature bending to the ancient halflings. Their legacy on the far off world of the serpent singers had been adopted by a race of colorless dragons who had drawn upon its power to shape themselves and the other races of mortals in their own image. Chiefly, this power, as in Serinbaal, was channeled through obsidian orbs. However, the dragons’ corruption of fiends with their mutagenic abilities proved their undoing, and the resulting abominations, known as the dramojh, and driven their former masters from the Lands of the Glistening East before installing themselves as rules of all. The serpent spiders, known as the slassans, were created by these dramojh, the warping of great subterranean serpents with the mutagenic powers of the dragon’s Stoneburner artifacts. After the destruction of the dramojh at the hands of a crusade of giants, the slassans were freed to pursue their own destinies. They divided themselves among several Chromatic Societies, and drew upon the power of the phase heart, an ancient dramojh artifact, to travel to the world of Serinbaal to seek after the remnants of the tenebrian seeds, the black orbs of the Stoneburner’s power, on other worlds. And so they had arrived on Serinbaal in Kalidnay. The Yellow Chromatic Society of the Ochre dome had awakened an ancient Stoneburner within one of the obsidian orbs, and had quickly used their newfound powers to rise to the head of serpent spider society. The Azure and Vermilion Domes of, respectively, the Blue and Red Chromatic societies had decided to pursue a different, less warlike course in their explorations of the Lands of Torment.
Venturing deeper into the tombs, our party encountered a group of agents from Nibenay seeking to punish smugglers from this region who had trespassed on their trade routes, but they quickly passed by…
Within deeper chambers of the tomb, within the resting place of Klaa’Trah-Yee the Keeper of the Keys, one of the Templars known as the Six Fingers of the Red God, the redoubtable servants of Almah combatted grievous tomb guardians, bathed in a residual living vortex of the kreen dark lord Dargulin, and then ascended a network of caverns above the tombs.
Here, they encountered the Soordogum Tribe of myceloids, who had succumbed to the power of Kchac'Thraa, an undead servant of Dargulin who had recently awakened. The wraith and its myceloid spokesperson Shraagroom the Sporulator convinced the party to enter an elemental grotto and dispose of a troublesome earth drake.
When they had arrived via a magical portal in the grotto, the party discovered that there were not one, but two drakes, and that they were companions of a mysterious druid from Yaramuke known as Itko. The representative of a clandestine criminal society that served the former serpentine lords of Yaramuke, he proposed to allay and dispose of the wraith. When their double-cross had been negotiated, the group was assaulted by an automaton servant of Kchac'Thraa.
The party returned to the great chamber of the myceloids and an intense melee ensued where the apprentices of the wraith were destroyed. Having dispatched the wraith’s immediate forces and sealed off the chamber from reinforcements, they then entered the Chamber of Convocation, where they discovered the myceloid shaman Shraagroom parlaying with the terrible Reapers, soul-stealing entities of the Gray. The party struck a deal with the caneloth, a hyena-headed monstrosity, and a renewed assault commenced that ended the reign of the wraith with its detonation of a powerful incendiary device which collapsed a vast portion of the tombs.
However, enough remained to allow the surviving heroes to rescue several elven artifacts from the myceloid chambers, and return them to Anubissemonekeh of the Serpent Singers in exchange for aura-reading abilities.
The collapsed mass of the kreen tombs, a great hole in the Iridescent Desert and the Rainbow Rise which divided the glittering sands of the former from the heat of Magsaphuron the Lake of Magma to the east, was quickly founded as a new settlement known as Cthasm. This strange admixture of myceloid, xulgath from the depths, white gnomes, human traders from New Kalid astride the ruins, and others from both the surface and subterranean worlds, had become the greatest nexus of peoples since the fabled days of Kalidnay’s Subaqueous Bazaar. Now, they all gather around the great pit known as the Doom Drop to seek their respective destinies…
The last week...
After the destruction of the Soordogum Tribe's cavernous lair by during the combined assault of the Compact of the Broken Tablet, their erstwhile ally Itko of Yaramuke, and the forces of the mysterious Reapers, the immense cavity created by Kchac'Thraa's detonation of a powerful explosive device was quickly repopulated, and the area -- now known as the 'Doom Drop -- has already transformed itself into a kind of makeshift city which the locals have taken to calling Cthasm.
Within the remains of the Soordogum tribal domain, the surviving myceloids have laid new sporulation beds, as well as constructed shrines to their new masters, the soul-thieving inhabitants of the Gray known as the Reapers. Within the myceloid domains, confined largely to the top tier of Cthasm, the arachnidians, the race of spider-like creatures that serve as the Reaper's warriors and beasts of burden, have become a frequent sight. It is said that several caneloths and oinodaemoiniae, as well as other Reaper castes, have also have spotted within the myceloid domains.
From the deeps of the earth, which, in the tortured planet, is now far more heavily populated than the surface world, several forces have converged on the new aperture to the lands of the sun, erecting their respective embassies beside the subterranean lake at the bottom of the Doom Drop, upon the site for the former lair of the wraith Kchac'Thraa .
First, an embassy of White Gnomes have arrived with several of their monstrous cavern worms. They have come to seek slaves, food, and mercenaries to assist them in a conflict with some terrible force deep within the earth...
Another party to have recently settled the shores of the Dead Lake are the xulgaths of the inner world. By their own account, these creatures hail from a hollow world within the planet, a verdant but deadly jungle paradise dominated by reptilian creatures. The xulgath arrived with a large entourage of dinosaurs, and one of the enterprising creatures has recently established a sort of menagerie to display lost varieties of the species to interested inhabitants of the Seven Cities.
From some lightless realm has also surfaced the mysterious obsidian-skinned elves know as the fulgrim or shograth. These ambassadors of what they refer to as the 'Shadow Kingdom' of their kind appear to nurture a special interest in establishing, or re-establishing, contacts with the elven tribes of the surface world, including the Serpent Singers of the Iridescent Desert.
Many other parties arrive, day by day, and the district on the shores of the Dead Lake has already been organized and surrounded by a palisade and defensive trench. This had proved a show of remarkable foresight, as the recently-completed fortifications were shortly tested by a hostile party of deep-dwelling dwarves known as druegar or dvenimpram and their earth elemental allies, who were driven back with difficulty by the combined forces of the xulgath, the white gnomes, the fulgrim, the xulgath, and other recent immigrants.
This establishment of new trade relations within the earth has been accompanied by similar developments above ground. The Serpent Singer tribe has established an embassy within a Kalidanayan ruin on the top ledge of Cthasm, set perilously by the shores of a torrentous waterfall.
From the south, the mysterious winged pterrans known as the kamistala'i and the speaking, thinking pangolins known as atodilophs, who likewise hail from a far region below the Deadlands, have appeared to seek their fortunes.
In the meanwhile, Rokan the Ascetic, psion of the Free City of Tyr, led the remainder of the Compact of the Broken Tablet to Destiny's Chariot, the remarkable mobile palace in which the Lady Almah of House Vordon had pursued her journey to an abandoned trade site in the most distant corner of the Great Alluvial Sand Waste.
Upon receiving their report, she encouraged the company to continue its adventures within the ruins of Kalidnay, seeking to end the threat which the Great Orrery posed to the rest of the Lands of Torment.
Several elven artifacts were retrieved from the myecloid chambers, and these permitted a successful parlay with the Dreadseer of the Serpent Singer Tribe, Anubisemoneke, who endowed the Compact of the Broken Tablet with the abilities of aura reading, so that they might, upon their next encounter, uncover the villainous presences of the shape-shifting spawn of Dregoth known as the dray.
The further adventures of the Compact of the Broken Tablet begin in the Plaza of Power, deep within the ruins of Kalidnay. This ancient parade ground stands before the immense fortifications of the Scarabhold, the former demesne of the High Templar Ahmun Ahnpur the Beastmaster. This powerful summoner and alchemist, one of the great Templars whose minds were imprisoned alongside that of their queen in the Orbs of Kalid-Ma, built this immense fortress on the shores of the Lake of Doom to surround the Gates of the Night, a set of three large portals to the subterranean caverns below the city, each surrounded by an immense mazework.
Recently, it appears that the fortress has been re-inhabited, as lights have been detected from the heights of the central keep.
The Compact of the Broken Tablet was directed by the Lady Almah of House Vordon to begin their explorations of the Kalidnay ruins within this site, since a troubling report had come to the noble lady's ears: a caravan of the winged pterrans known as the kamistala'i and the race of anthropomorphic pangolins know as atodilophs have been waylaid during their movement through the city, seeking to visit an unknown purveyor within the depths of the ruins. She charged Rokan and his companions to investigate the dispatch of the caravan, and, if possible, determine their current course and intentions. For the representative of both races had been extremely circumspect in their comments when they had visited Destiny's Chariot, and had declined to reveal the true nature of their visitation to the lands of the Seven Cities.
And so the Compact of the Broken tablet finds itself within the broad expanse of the Plaza of Power, within the uppermost reaches of the Acropolis of Kalidnay. They must uncover the truth behind the mysterious assault on the lost caravan, whose ruin now lies before them, as well as seek the Orb of Kalid-Ma and its attendant pylon which is doubtless contained within the Fortress of the High Templar Ahmun Ahnpur, the first stage of closing the gate of the Grand Orrery, whose rings still hang ominously over the ruins of the vast city...
The burning sun had been a rather unwelcome surprise as Narzor unsealed the magic that had locked his lab away from prying eyes.
Surprisingly there were tall insect like humanoids standing outside that were as surprised that the wall opened behind them as he was that they were standing there. His magic prevented them from seeing him, and so he simply stepped out of the way and allowed them to enter the lab below.
As he walked away from the wall, the screams began. They almost sound like Humans he mused to himself.
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The days stretched on as Narzor walked through an unending sea of sand. He was surprised that the desert went as long as it did, but he continued walking and trying to reach out to Orcus, the lord of undeath.
So far, however, his master was silent.
It was almost a month before he ran across another soul, or in this case, a large number of souls. As he crested a dune, he saw a caravan travelling across the desert. Deciding to see what he could learn from these creatures, Narzor joined the caravan remaining invisible.
Soon, the caravan arrived at a large city, and Narzor left them there. He had learned something of the language (they still spoke Common, although some of the terms were a bit different from what he knew. Apparently the local politics are tumultuous, with a group of so-called Sorcerer Kings. For a group of arcane spellcasters, there appeared to be a lack of magical ability among the locals.
Narzor stood in the square at midday, observing the coming and going of the mortals and taking in what knowledge he can.
The burning sun had been a rather unwelcome surprise as Narzor unsealed the magic that had locked his lab away from prying eyes.
Surprisingly there were tall insect like humanoids standing outside that were as surprised that the wall opened behind them as he was that they were standing there. His magic prevented them from seeing him, and so he simply stepped out of the way and allowed them to enter the lab below.
As he walked away from the wall, the screams began. They almost sound like Humans he mused to himself.
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The days stretched on as Narzor walked through an unending sea of sand. He was surprised that the desert went as long as it did, but he continued walking and trying to reach out to Orcus, the lord of undeath.
So far, however, his master was silent.
It was almost a month before he ran across another soul, or in this case, a large number of souls. As he crested a dune, he saw a caravan travelling across the desert. Deciding to see what he could learn from these creatures, Narzor joined the caravan remaining invisible.
Soon, the caravan arrived at a large city, and Narzor left them there. He had learned something of the language (they still spoke Common, although some of the terms were a bit different from what he knew. Apparently the local politics are tumultuous, with a group of so-called Sorcerer Kings. For a group of arcane spellcasters, there appeared to be a lack of magical ability among the locals.
Narzor stood in the square at midday, observing the coming and going of the mortals and taking in what knowledge he can.
The caravan which Narzor had observed consisted of a mixture of two curious species -- one a race of winged lizardmen dressed in flowing togas of the purest white, so blazoningly pure as to hurt the eyes of the observer, and another which resembled armored ant eaters with large, brimmed hats that overshadowed their beady eyes.
These accompanied about a half dozen wooden carts through the ruins of the immense, ancient metropolis.
The only snippets of the conversation between the two groups that their invisible camp follower could discern was when the two species conversed between their respective camps in Trade Tongue. The internal dialog within the two groups was conducted in impossibly alien languages.
From these brief conversations, Narzor had discerned that the two parties had united in a far southerly region to visit a party that was currently headquartered within the ruined city. They apparently had several names, but the caravan members mostly referred to them as Cytobardites or Cyotbidaradans. They apparently had sent emissaries to distant lands advertising their offer of a new power that could dispel sorcerous and psionic powers.
The caravan had made it's way to the ruined city, apparently named Kalidnay, in the hope that this new treasure might help them in their struggle against a tyrant of the distant south known as Tsepan, the ruler of a expansionistic city-state protected by an invincible wall covered with mirrors.
The caravan was assaulted once it had reached a central quarter where the meeting between these parties and the Cytobardites was supposed to have occurred. The attackers were a race of orc like creatures with sixteen arms, and they were accompanied by several large warbeasts that resembled a large boar or some kind of wolf.
Once the slaughter had been concluded, the assailants erected a defensive barricade around their position with immense stones quarried from the ruins, apparently awaiting the arrival of some other expected visitors...
Narzor opted to simply watch the strange Orcs for now, content in learning what he could about the creatures. He had not spent millenia in observation to act rashly now.
Narzor opted to simply watch the strange Orcs for now, content in learning what he could about the creatures. He had not spent millenia in observation to act rashly now.
After spending a couple of hours piling up stones, the creatures seemed to have completed their haphazard fortifications. The site of the destroyed caravan is now surrounded by a dense barrier of large rocks some twenty five feet or so feet thick at its broadest point, and at least that tall.
Over the edge of the barrier, and standing out starkly against the dimming light of the late afternoon occasioned by the unexpected descent of a large bay of clouds over the vast ruins, flickers an eerie firelight, as if a large bonfire or other holocaust had been kindled within the tarek's hastily-erected walls.
The broad expanse of the Plaza of Power in ancient Kalidnay sprawls hundreds of feet to each side, encompassing a vast, flat space.
Seemingly endless ruins surround the four sides of the square, some in better repair than others.
Most of the buildings are constructed of sandstone decorated with elaborate hieroglyphics. Some retain some or all of their sheen of decorative paint from a previous age.
A far smaller number of structures are clad in sheer white slabs of limestone, and further decorated by what appears to be metal inlay in decorative friezes near their roofs. The latter element is especially peculiar -- how was such a quantity of metal originally obtained or preserved from salvage? Perhaps it is not really metal...
To the east, the immense bulk of the Scarabhold, the great fortress of the High Templar Ahmun Ahnpur, broods behind its thick walls overlooking the black waters of the Lake of Doom. The high towers of the central keep eclipse the noonday sun.
The center of the great plaza, once a parade ground of the ancient metropolis, is dominated by a wall of rough boulders piled some twenty five feet or more in height. A dim illumination can be seen behind their bulk, as if a fire had been kindled within.
The path of the caravan mentioned by the Lady Almah terminates in the plaza. It seems very likely that the answer to their fate lies behind the haphazard walls which create a sort of barricade within the center of the Plaza of Power...
A bald monk stands in the midday sun, not at all sweating under the oppressive, dry heat. In fact he seems to be strangely appreciating it, basking in it.
Finally we arrive here to address the matter of the awakened minds, and the opened gate.
In his mind he flashes back to the dank darkness of the myceloids chamber, and the surrounding caverns. Then before that, the labyrinths of the kreen tomb where his party bathed in the motes of the Red God.
He shudders at this last thought. Power does not come for free.
Altogether too long in the darkness, he thinks.
Not speaking to his party at length he scans the Plaza of power, wondering where power or aberration may lurk. He focuses, in particular, on the small number of dwellings that seem to exhibit metal inlay, or something that matches its appearance. After a time he looks to Scarabhold and likewise focuses on it to detect any presence of psionic power or protections.
Sheathed in a cloak which has taken on the pale blue tones of the sky, a halfling walks as if firmly on the ground.. yet he is a hundred feet in the air. He stays above and near Rokan (the only one left of those who'd saved his life), and scouts from his higher vantage point.
Things were muddled below - every chamber held forces of unfathomable power. It wasn't until his return to the surface that Jimbli felt how truly powerful he'd become. The blood of his formidable and varied lineage had awoken. It surely wouldn't be long before he was strong enough to travel the planes to search for the one of whom his father spoke.
A bald monk stands in the midday sun, not at all sweating under the oppressive, dry heat. In fact he seems to be strangely appreciating it, basking in it.
Finally we arrive here to address the matter of the awakened minds, and the opened gate.
In his mind he flashes back to the dank darkness of the myceloids chamber, and the surrounding caverns. Then before that, the labyrinths of the kreen tomb where his party bathed in the motes of the Red God.
He shudders at this last thought. Power does not come for free.
Altogether too long in the darkness, he thinks.
Not speaking to his party at length he scans the Plaza of power, wondering where power or aberration may lurk. He focuses, in particular, on the small number of dwellings that seem to exhibit metal inlay, or something that matches its appearance. After a time he looks to Scarabhold and likewise focuses on it to detect any presence of psionic power or protections.
1st Round: Presence or absence of psionic auras.
There is an extremely strong psionic aura covering the entire Scarabhold, as if the entirety of the immense structure were completely enveloped in a mantle of mental power of almost unimaginable dimensions and size. To someone with sensitivity to these forces, it is as if a psionic power of super planetary size and dimensions were resting over the tall spires of the High Templar's fort...
There are scattered psionic readings from the surrounding buildings, as well as the haphazard defenses in the center of the plaza. It appears there are about a dozen psionic signatures within the latter, and another dozen or so around the periphery of the open space.
Sheathed in a cloak which has taken on the pale blue tones of the sky, a halfling walks as if firmly on the ground.. yet he is a hundred feet in the air. He stays above and near Rokan (the only one left of those who'd saved his life), and scouts from his higher vantage point.
Things were muddled below - every chamber held forces of unfathomable power. It wasn't until his return to the surface that Jimbli felt how truly powerful he'd become. The blood of his formidable and varied lineage had awoken. It surely wouldn't be long before he was strong enough to travel the planes to search for the one of whom his father spoke.
[dice=Perception searching for hidden or concealed]1d20+29
From his high vantage point, the halfling can easily discern the shape and contents of the fortification in the center of the plaza. The remains of the caravan, a half dozen large wooden carts, are set in the midst of two towering infernos, fed by the remains of the vehicle's inhabitants. There are a dozen sixteen armed tareks of large size, an ettin, and two immense wolf like creatures within the hastily-erected barricade. Though it appears to have been quickly assembled, the structure is cyclopean in dimensions, some twenty five or more feet thick and at least that high.
The structure's defenders easily spot the halfling and begin to point in his direction.
Finally. Narzor thought to himself as he saw Jimbli. Another spellcaster. Perhaps he is one of the tribe of Halflings who rule here?
Jimbli disappears.. reappearing within fifteen feet of Rokan.
"I've been spotted. A dozen many-armed big guys, an ettin, and a couple massive wolves beyond the barricade. Are you ready for a fight?.. I certainly am."
His eyes glow for a moment as he grins in anticipation.. he then scans the area for their allies to report what he'd seen.
A few feet next to the bald monk casually lounges an elven woman.
A slight breeze gently plays with the long hair flowing down from her head, only parted by long pointed ears, every now and then shifting the light gowns which conceal as much as they reveal in typical elven attire.
On her arms are many different bracelets, some obsidian, some seemingly wooden, some of jade, some made from bones, all elaborately carved with different motives. She doesn't seem to carry much else, or if it's better concealed by her clothing than her figure.
The very image of fecundity and liveliness she at the same time fulfills and elevates all the prejudice elven women normaly face, giving off an unearthly and snakelike grace in every little movement.
Standing there staring at nothing in particular ignoring the environment she plays with her hair in a lascivious way and seems bored.
Not even the sudden appearance of the flying blue cloaked halfling seems to startled her, but a slight smile touches her face, revealing pronounced fangs where the canines would usualy be.
Remind me, why are we here again?
More hushed she adds:
Many-armed big guys doesn't sound bad, but probably they are too ugly, stupid and clumsy to be of any use.
A few feet next to the bald monk casually lounges an elven woman.
A slight breeze gently plays with the long hair flowing down from her head, only parted by long pointed ears, every now and then shifting the light gowns which conceal as much as they reveal in typical elven attire.
On her arms are many different bracelets, some obsidian, some seemingly wooden, some of jade, some made from bones, all elaborately carved with different motives. She doesn't seem to carry much else, or if it's better concealed by her clothing than her figure.
The very image of fecundity and liveliness she at the same time fulfills and elevates all the prejudice elven women normaly face, giving off an unearthly and snakelike grace in every little movement.
Standing there staring at nothing in particular ignoring the environment she plays with her hair in a lascivious way and seems bored.Not even the sudden appearance of the flying blue cloaked halfling seems to startled her, but a slight smile touches her face, revealing pronounced fangs where the canines would usualy be.
Remind me, why are we here again?
More hushed she adds:
Many-armed big guys doesn't sound bad, but probably they are too ugly, stupid and clumsy to be of any use.
"Sister Runner!" replies the mysterious minstrel of the Deadlands, "your memory is as elusive as your people! We are of course here at the behest of the regal Lady Almah of the Clan Athiratu-Astarte of House Vordon of the Free City of Tyr, investigating the sudden disappearance of joint caravan expedition of the winged pterran known as the kamistala'i and the anthropomorphic race of pangolins known as atodilophs, which had arrived recently at the lady's audience hall within Destiny's Chariot from some far southerly region, set beneath the yawning wastes of the Deadlands."
He gestures demonstrative to the haphazard fortification in the center of the Plaza of Power,
"I believe our associate in the Compact of the Broken Tablet, Jimbli of Raam, has just alerted us those responsible for the dispatch of the southern travelers, apparently a tribe of mutant tareks. I have heard reports of them beforehand... one faction seized the Great Gate of Battle, the primary aperture of the outer walls of ancient Kalidnay."
Slavathras frowns visible,
"I wonder what reason could have compelled them to so savagely assault this entourage, and come to think of it, the reason for these rare people's entrance into the ruins remains similarly obscure."
Born aloft on shadowy, demonic looking wings, Hamza flies effortlessly over the Plaza of Power. Unseen by any but the most perceptive, the assassin settles onto one of the house's roof, and scans the courtyard.
Jimbli disappears.. reappearing within fifteen feet of Rokan.
"I've been spotted. A dozen many-armed big guys, an ettin, and a couple massive wolves beyond the barricade. Are you ready for a fight?.. I certainly am."
Rokan breaks his gaze from scanning the plaza to barely respond.
Hmm. I can be. I was hoping we wouldn't make a mess so soon, or announce our presence so loudly.
Born aloft on shadowy, demonic looking wings, Hamza flies effortlessly over the Plaza of Power. Unseen by any but the most perceptive, the assassin settles onto one of the house's roof, and scans the courtyard.
Hamza sees a haphazardly assembled fortification in the middle of the large plaza. Large boulders quarried from the ruins, all weighing several tons, have been quickly moved into position to form a defensive barricade around the ruins of the ambushed caravan.
The ruins of the doomed expedition of the winged pterrans and their pangolin-race compatriots from the far south burn in a torrent within the thick ring of stones.
The walls are at least 25 feet thick, and as high or greater than their breadth. The circular compound is at least 100 feet across.
Within the walls of the enclosure, a dozen heavily muscled tarek with sixteen arms each congregate around a roaring blaze. They are accompanied by a large ettin and two lumbering wolf-like creatures.
One of the tareks points upwards as it spots Jimbli's approach and howls with a blood curdling war cry.
Jimbli disappears.. reappearing within fifteen feet of Rokan.
"I've been spotted. A dozen many-armed big guys, an ettin, and a couple massive wolves beyond the barricade. Are you ready for a fight?.. I certainly am."Rokan breaks his gaze from scanning the plaza to barely respond.
Hmm. I can be. I was hoping we wouldn't make a mess so soon, or announce our presence so loudly.
The strange elf sneers.
"Indeed, I would rather we had maintained our advantage of surprise as well. However, I suppose there is nothing to be done about it now..."
The first day outside the caverns had been a welcome relief for Cae who had relished seeing sunlight again, even such as it was. But now, the heat only serves as an irritant, each sunrise being a reminder that he has still not found his Mistress for yet another day. Only the calming presence of Vyse allows him to keep the usual smile on his face.
Here in this plaza, he absorbs the red sun's rays into himself and out into the weapons of his allies.
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Suddenly, one of the mutant tareks appears at the entrance of the hastily-erected fortification. The creature bears a white standard emblazoned with an open palm, a universally-recognized sign of peace throughout the Lands of the Seven Cities.
It speaks in heavily accented Trade Tongue,
"Halt strangers! Are you servants of the Citadel? You do not resemble others of their number. If so, I curse you with a thousand curses. If not, I beg you to hear our petition."
Hamza stays to the shadows of the roof he's on, but directs his attention to the tarek.
Hamza stays to the shadows of the roof he's on, but directs his attention to the tarek.
The creature's query and offer are both genuine.
Rokan looks at Hamza for a moment to confirm the safety of this engagement. A short missive to the shadow lord. Let's play this as a little naive, let them show their hand, and see if they can be directed to our purposes.
The monk booms out over the surface of the plaza in response to the tareks. We are listening. Tell us what you know of this citadel and then state your request.
Rokan looks at Hamza for a moment to confirm the safety of this engagement. A short missive to the shadow lord. Let's play this as a little naive, let them show their hand, and see if they can be directed to our purposes.
The monk booms out over the surface of the plaza in response to the tareks. We are listening. Tell us what you know of this citadel and then state your request.
The tarek regards the psion warily,
"The ones who now dwell in the Citadel came from a vast city to the east known as Balic, which is an important port on the Sea of Silt. We believe they were originally merchants of some type. If you are a native of this region, I imagine the city is known to you. We have heard of it only when those who wield the obsidian orbs arrived and claimed the Citadel for themselves, and made an alliance with the dreadful devil snakes who now live below the Rift of Baltoush."
Rokan stands waiting for the tareks to say more, for an uncomfortable length of time, never breaking his gaze or blinking.
"This caravan from the south came to barter with the denizens of the Citadel. We have dispatched them for their wickedness. The foreigners from Balic who have seized the Citadel have sought dark magic from the devil serpents. This dark magic silences the mind and the word. This caravan was made up of enemies of our tribe's ally, the great warrior Tsepan. They sought the dark magic of the Citadel to oppose him in the distant lands of the south."
"All lands are threatened by this dark magic. You should join with us to end its threat to your peoples and ours. Soon, the Citadel will send its forces to find this caravan, and then we must seize them, and abduct a captive from whom we can pry the key to the fortress."
Hamza steps into the shadows surrounding him, and emerges next to Rokan. He wears the appearance of his merchant guise. "Friends, I know nothing of this Citadel, or dark forces conspiring from the shadows. However, my companions and I are quite capable at dispatching troublesome interlopers. Allow us to take over guarding the caravan and we shall ambush the pesky investigators you seem concerned about. As you just saw, I am rather adapt at remaining unseen, and I can promise you they won't see me before it's too late. Once we have gotten rid of the Citadel's agents, we shall join you inside your most impressive fortress, and celebrate their demise. What say you?" Hamza offers expansively.
