"Certainly Tolheimia. I will talk to the Loremaster and find out as much as I can, but I must admit, I have limited understanding about the ways of magic. I can emulate a few spells, but I am no wizard. Assuming what you propose is possible, what do you want us to tell the other group? "
"If we could communicate to them that one of our groups has found the temple, and when their mission is finished to return to the fort. If we can contact that other group, we can establish a way to keep in touch. Who else is active in your group that could assist?"
"Hopefully the Loremaster can assist and provide the magic needed to transport you. I don't know what is being dealt with, but it would help to ask if something like that would work. Please convey to him our request to bring our groups into successful communication."
Goivan rattles off a quick list of the other students of Goodwin. "I would like to get in touch with them as well. We have been separate for long enough for them to all get into trouble."
"I am a wizard." Prar chimes in. "Not a powerful one by any means but a wizard nonetheless."
The dark blue Ithilid played with a tentacle, seemingly lost in thought after that statement.
"Very well. Excellent. If the three of you would be able to get the message to our different groups, we can hopefully let them know that we may have located the temple. Go now quickly, and hopefully the Loremaster can use this painting somehow to lend aid."
"We are off than. Thank you for all of your help." With an old-fashioned bow of respect, Goivan leads the others out on their new objective.
The group returns to Loremaster Cronin and advises that they are willing to help, but first wish to have the painting tuned so that they can travel the shadow world to join up and communicate with their other groups that are afield.
The Loremaster ponders this and notes that it should be doable, but that the shadow world can be somewhat unpredictable, and he is not sure what things might be changed locally around the lady in the painting's domain.
He grabs an armload of scrolls and potions and moves you three to the painting that is set in a stronger larger frame.
"This is so you can 'enter' the painting and not knock it over if you bump the edges. We are doing something there that hasn't been done before really, at least to my knowledge." You can see the perspiration on his forehead and anxiety.
"If it works, please try to entreat the shadow lady to assist us in our fight, in exchange for freeing her of the curse. If not, get your butts out of there back into the real world. These potions I will give you are to be consumed when you are ready to re-enter this plane. You can travel in shadow and see the regular world beyond if you focus mentally. You can also move much much swifter there. These scrolls will allow us to scry your companions. They come at great expense but it has been approved in advancement of this mission. So I trust you to put forth your best effort." He looks over his eyeglasses at the group, smirking just a little, winking.
"Do you have any questions?"
Champawat puts her hand on the Loremaster's shoulder. "Don't worry Loremaster, if there is one thing we're comfortable with it's traveling in foreign dimensions. To be honest, we've probably spent more time in abnormal realms than we have in the real world. if there is anyone that can accomplish this mission, it's us." With that, she approaches the painting and slowly reaches her arm out to touch the painting.
Day 12 - Evening
As Goivan and Prar look on, Champawat steps toward the painting and reaches out touching it. Her form immediately becomes shadowy and insubstantial. The painting itself, seems to draw her in and she feels a slight pull from the realm beyond. Her mind, still fixed in this world reels slightly as it tries to adjust to the concept that the painting has become a three dimensional portal. She shes her hand darken and become shadowy as it 'reaches' into the scene of the painting. Was it her imagination, she thought she saw the lady depicted turn her eyes toward her. No harm has come to Champawat, and she steps entirely into the painting. To Goivan and Prar the painting, begins to move and they see Champawat now, within the painting's scene, moving in the scene.
To Champawat in the painting as soon as she is wholly within the painting the world around her swirls and the scene depicted in the painting blurs, the woman and the other items around her disappearing, Champawat standing in a small greyish courtyard, everything appearing shadowlike and indistinct. She focuses her mind and will and tries to determine where she came from. As she does so, a small window seems to appear and she can see out looking at the Loremaster, Prar and Goivan.
Goivan and Prar look to each other and at the Loremaster who is furiously scribbling notes, his quill swishing and ink splashing about as he feverishly dips it into the inkwell again and again, scribing all that is occurring. "Good luck young ones, find your kin, rescue your master."
Goivan and Prar follow Champawat, each stepping gingerly into the painting, squeezing between its frame, though reasonably large for a painting, still challenging to step through carefully.
Once within, the three stand in the same shadowy courtyard as Champawat. A tower, similar in design to the one they found the painting in, looms above. There is no sound, no wind, no insects, birds or anything. The silence is deafening. There is no sun, just an grey haze that seems to cover everything and limits vision to perhaps sixty feet at best. Things feel a bit claustrophobic.
At the end of their vision, on the far side of the courtyard a large black metallic gate seems to exit the keep. To their side, a wooden door, with metal reinforcements enters the tower-keep.
Prar walks up to the metallic gate and peers out away from the tower.
Turning back towards his siblings, he speaks, shattering the silence with a muffled whisper. "I suppose we should seek out the lady of the painting in the tower."
You look through the gates and although you can only see about sixty feet it seems to lead to the outside of the walls. You see a dirt road heading away from the tower-keep. So far, no signs of any life, although the ground has some greyish ( as with everything here, in greyscale ) grass growing.
"It appears to be an endless plain of shadow and grass. I would wager that it is dangerous to go out of this gate and if we were to do so, even more dangerous to stray from the road."
The tall, lithely muscular Ithillid turned back towards his brothers and sister. "Our most logical discourse is to enter the tower."
As the group prepares, Prar fishes a piece of cure leather from his pack. Saying a brief cantation he moves his hand in a circle. The leather evaporates from his hand and for a moment an armored coat of force is visible around him. It fades from sight after a few seconds.
He steps towards the tower..
Goivan looks around, confused and wondered by this part of their journey. "Well, so far so good I suppose. I agree Prar, let us head to the tower. I think it would be wise to keep the boundaries of the painting in mind as we travel." If there are no objections, Goivan leads the group along the road.
Shuffling along behind his larger gargoyle sibling, Prar looks at his spellbook and checks the folds of his robe. His Blue little lizard that seemed just as displaced in time as him hopped along at his feet.
Checking his notes he tries to determine the nature of the place they were in.
The trio makes its way towards the tower, throwing open the thick wooden door. Prar recalls his lore about the Shadow Plane and refreshes what he knows from his journals that he carries with him.
Prar you know that the Shadow Plane lies on top of the prime material plane, a warped reflection of it. Spellcasters use it to travel quickly using such spells as shadow walk, as the plane is not subject to the same rules as the Prime. Other casters use it to empower shadow magic, drawing on the shadow 'stuff' to simulate evocations or conjurations, creating semi-real copies of typical spells.
This particular location you suspect may be a pocket realm or one that is heavily influenced by local power. Certainly the lady in the painting would qualify, and her influence of local reality is likely to be strong. It is known that many dangers exist in the Shadow Plane for the living as it is fueled by negative energy. You conjecture that staying here too long would be detrimental to you or that eventually something will find you and decide your life forces would make an appropriate feast. You hope that the mutable aspect of the plane will allow you to bend it somewhat to your own wills and let you manipulate reality in some aspect to accomplish your goals. You only hope that they are not contradictory to that of the shadowy mistress whose tower you have entered.
Entering the tower, you are faced with an entrance gallery and a wide winding staircase that spirals upwards. The tower seems familiar and you remember back to the tower and keep where you found the painting. While not identical at all, it seems at least to evoke the same feeling. In the way you dream about a building or home you are familiar with, but in the dream the layout and floor plan is different, yet it is still 'the same' in your mind, so too is this tower.
Empty and devoid of any trappings of habitation you ascend the staircase, your footsteps echoing hollowly on the broad steps. It seems to take you longer to get to the top than would seem likely. You look back and though you have only climbed a single floor, it felt like tenfold that amount. Peering down to the entryway your head spins a bit as the stairs seem to morph below, a fog rolling in masking your retreat. In an MC Escher like manner the stairs ahead seems to twist slightly. You hasten your pace now taking steps two or three at a time. Legs burning you reach the top after what seems like an unnecessarily long time and halt at a landing before a large dark set of double doors. In a world with color they may have been bronze or perhaps iron. Here, in a world of greys, the dark metal is difficult to determine. Made of shadow-stuff, it likely does not matter. Flanking the doors two large decorative plants sit forlornly. You wonder how they survive, there is no sun, but then again, reality here follows different rules.
Goivan steps forward and grasps a large metal knocker on the doors. With no point to being stealthy, he raps the massive metal piece three times. The sound echoes with three thunderous booms that seem to shake the walls and floor of the tower and stairwell. Within moments the doors swing open silently of their own accord and a long columned hall is revealed before you. At the far the end, barely visible through swirling grey mists, is a figure seated on a throne....
"Hmm. A woman of massive influence on this plane, and we have a time limit. Let us move forward with all haste then. I advise let's ask questions first instead of later. Hopefully we can have a diplomatic discussion with her."
A very long trek later Goivan is starting to breath heavier, and he's a specimen in peak physical condition. He takes a moment to let everybody catch their breath as he studies the strange door and plants. Once they are prepared he finds the knocker and announces their presence. As the doors eerily swing open Goivan narrows his eyes, then leads the others inside...
Champawat follows the others into the tower and falls into line, bringing up the rear. "What questions should we ask? I think it's more of establishing a mutually beneficial agreement, but I suppose anything we learn will have value." While walking, she tries to focus her mind on Greebins, her Catfolk sibling, hopeful that the shadow realm will show her a glimpse of her family.
As the group stands in the entryway to the hall and discusses their options, then walking forward, Champawat focuses her will inward seeking out her companions. She focuses on Greebins and is able to catch a mental glimpse of him. It is vague and nebulous but she is none the less able to establish a link of some sort, reaching across the barrier that separates the Plane of Shadow from the Prime.
A voice interrupts her concentration. "I......have.....not....had....visitors.....in...sooooo.....verrrrryyy....l ong. Come to me children..."
The voice is more internal than external, although you get the sense that it comes from the far end of the hall. Stepping forward closer, almost without thinking, or is the hall shrinking or bringing you closer of its own accord?
Within a short time, you stand before a dais, and seated on a chair, not necessarily a throne, but a very well crafted chair, is the woman in the painting. Dressed in flowing gowns and finery, its splendor is no doubt muted by the greys of the realm you are in. She stands and moves down the dais, more floating than stepping. "You, you are the ones who have found the painting. Awoken after so long. A now, just shortly ago I felt your presence. How have you come to be here?" She steps around you, circling you, moving curiously, a pale grey hand to her chin contemplatively. "A rare treat to have guests in my .... home. Surely your visit is planned, I cannot imagine many finding their way here by accident."
Goivan is not appreciating the feelings of disorientism from the strange world. But all the same, he keeps up his formal and noble demeanor and gives a deep, respectful bow. "You are wise and insightful. Forgive my rudeness, for I know not your name or title to appropriately address you. I would be thankful if you were to bestow such information upon me so I may properly convey my respects." His eyes stay sharp, but he keeps his head down. "And you are correct, this was no accident. We ventured here to seek knowledge of how this portal works. We are sorry if we are intruding."
"You may call me Lady Immelian Turjedan." You realize though she seems to be speaking to you, you seem to hear the voice in your mind more than anything. Clearly you are unlikely to speak the same language, but the telepathic communication seems to work excellently.
She mulls it over for a minute. "So you found your way here via the painting. Impressive. Do not be afraid of intrusion. Time here flows abnormally, and I have some control over it, but there is little to do for amusement. I have become skilled at plane-crafting however. This prison though grows tiresome. Those who cursed me are surely long gone and I seek a release. The curse will be ended when one of these shadow stones is destroyed by one of the Blood of Vanethis. It was he was who cursed me because I spurned his advances. Any of his bloodline who crush one of those shards will free my curse. Where you can find them is anyone's guess. I have sent others forth over the centuries and none have succeeded clearly." As she is speaking and explaining, three dark shards appear in the air, hovering before each of you. The shards are several inches long, and crystalline in appearance.
"In exchange for attempting this, I will assist in what way I can to answer your questions."
"My lady Immelian Turjedan." Goivan says, considering the offer.
Her curiosity getting the better of her, Champawat reaches out to grasp one of the crystal shards. A dozen scenarios run through her head, none of them good, but she cannot seam to help herself. This realm is nothing like the one that master had created. Where it was vibrant, this was dreary. Where master's was warmth, this one was pale.
There seemed to be no joy in this realm, and she began to pity the lady. How long could she have been trapped here, alone... Champawat wondered.
Goivan you get the sense that she is speaking truthfully and that no deception is occurring.
Champawat grasps one of the shards, it is cold to the touch, and as you grasp it you feel a brief darkness wash over you, that quickly disappears. "Thank you." she responds when you take the stone.
Prar looks at the catfolk that was his sibling. "That actually work? Champawat possesses the blood of Vanethis?"
Prar scratched his head in thought.
"If I'm understanding this correctly, we are just delivering the shards to these descendants of Vanethis. It is up to those descendants to shatter the shards to free our...friend here." Champawat begins to stroke her chin. "Ma'am...if you are freed from this...prison, will it cease to exist? Will this shadow realm fall into oblivion?"
"My particular prison here will fade away. The Shadow Plane will persist as it always has."
While Champawat distracts the lady with her questions, Goivan narrows his eyes and scans her for evil.
Goivan casts his detect evil spell and begins scanning. You definitely register evil, and give that this is the Shadow Plane, in some ways fueled by negative energy you aren't surprised. However you had not expected it to radiate evil everywhere. You surmise that it may be related to the curse. Your second round, you focus in your perceptions, differentiating the sources of evil, narrowing your will to separate the auras. You focus on the woman, whom you know to be undead, and thus are not surprised when her aura radiates evil. You are surprised at the overwhelming power of her aura, and you stumble, stunned in place reeling at her power. In fact so powerful is it that it ends your detection spell as you gather your senses and take several second to recover from the surge.
In your time you know that evil takes many forms, from bloodthirsty outsiders and malevolent undead, to the most innocuous sort of evil, that selfish sort of personal advancement at the expense of others' well being and livelihood.
Clearly, as a cursed undead being whose existence is entirely composed of shadow, she will radiate some evil, and as one who has spent an unknown amount of time here, her empathy for the living is likely diminished to the point where her curse is the focus of her existence.
Champawat, after grasping the shadow shard, and as a the conversation continues, feels her senses become more acute and attuned to the shadows. The plane becomes a bit more vibrant and 'real' to her. Possibly she is becoming more like it, which could be disconcerting to ponder. As Goivan focuses on a spell only to stumble and stagger a short bit after, and Prar ponders the plane, Champawat feels her will strengthen in regard to the shadows, she almost feels more in tune and capable of perhaps even manipulating the essence of the plane, perhaps as a result of taking the shard, which is likely infused with some of the grey woman's power.
"My Lady Immelian Turjedan, I'm assuming that the descends of Vanethis are not located in the shadow realm...do you have any idea where they could be found? Or where we should begin looking?"
Her voice echoes, "Nay, not here, but on the Prime. Sadly I do not know where his offspring have spread. I am unable to track or detect from this realm. Searching out his descendants may take some significant effort. For me, I am patient, time here is somewhat immaterial. I merely ask that you do not give up your progress. I would begin with some divinations perhaps, or seek out some historical or temple archives detailing the genealogy or lineage of Canisar Moratheon Vanethis within the region of Espertoo."
"Thank you my lady. We will do our best in our search. Forgive me, but I would be remiss if I did not ask, but do you know the name Goodwin?"
"I must apologize, I do not. It seems a common enough moniker, but I have never known anyone by that name. May I ask its importance?"
"I am looking for the man who imprisoned me in his dimension, similar to your predicament. It seems we have something in common."
She seems to ponder a bit "A shared fate then. It appears you were able to make your escape. Were that I were so lucky."
You suspect she is telling the truth. Though she has certainly been here a long time, based on the painting, the chest it was in and the ruined tower, it is a few magnitudes less time than the ten thousand years since Goodwin was captured. Even centuries of time having passed pales in comparison to that amount of time.
"If there are no more questions, I can send you back to where you came. I do have the ability to place you in other locations, and.... I have some very minor influence over when.."
She looks to Prar and Goivan. "Will you aid me by taking up a shadow shard as well?"
Goivan internally grimaces. Working with this evil woman puts a sour taste in my mouth. But there are greater goals at stake here. I will have to keep sharp and make sure that it is this place that has corrupted her, and not vice-versa. If her intention is to use us as vessels to spread her taint upon the world, woe be unto her for my wrath will be great.
"Of course, my lady. We are ready to depart."
The Grey Lady smiles to the three of you and nods, "So it is done. Maybe your travels take you far and wide and may you find Ganethis' progeny and undo this existence of mine. Long ago, I wished to be free of this. I did not ask for this." she states bitterly.
"Have you chosen a time and place?"
Each of you considers the small group that your original five has dwindled to, and perhaps it is time to seek out some of your other kin. You discuss briefly among yourselves and decide it may be best to find what has happened to the others, perhaps they have had better luck finding Master Goodwin, and now with a second search quest in your minds, you might be able to accomplish both.
You reach out with your minds and images flood across your vision, your wills shaping the shadow stuff before you, augmented by the Grey Lady's power. You take some time to fine tune it and focus in deciding where to go. As you review the various groups you look for those that could perhaps use the most aid. With concentration you are able to even look back in time somewhat, though looking forward seems to be a block. "Even I cannot predict the future." observes the shadowy woman.
Champawat settles in on an image of a group of your kin, a ship to ship battle wheels around them. Sailors and pirates swarm the decks of two ships and a spells are flying as well as mundane weapons. This may be a good time to make an appearance.
Goivan concentrates and reviews the timeline and fates of others. He sees deep in a subterranean dungeon a group of others, exploring an ancient crypt, a door swings open and a room full of undead hisses its challenge. Goivan's blood surges and he kin are outnumbered two to one at least. He sets his jaw and sees a chance to make a difference.
Prar reaches out his expansive illithid mind, seeking fellow siblings. Always having a bond with the many Sarenrae worshippers in the groups, he touches on their timeline. He sees a small group also dwindled in numbers, tracking warily a group of enemies. Humanoids, hellish beasts, and even a fiery giant. You recall the difficult missions set out by the Thane and Marshal Hawke, and your friends seem to be at a disadvantage against this group. You decide to throw in your lot with your fellow devotees, perhaps your divine and arcane magics and healing can turn the tide or lend counsel.
After some discussion about reallocating the children of Goodwin, Goivan gives a nod. "I am sad to part with you all, but I am also glad to be reunited with other children of Goodwin. May Ragathiel keep you safe and give you strength and fury in the battles to come."
"Stay safe and walk proud. I will miss you Goivan. I hope to see you again. And you as well Prar. I long to reunite with master and the rest of our family. Fare well."
Grasping his shard he nods at his siblings. "Go in peace my friends." he gurgles.
The trio say their farewells and focus their minds on the various timelines and locations in their minds. The Grey Lady nods, "So you have decided." She stands and gathers shadows about her, holding within her outstretched hand a swirling mass of gathering power. After several seconds the mass has gathered enough size and she hurls it at your group. As the mass flies towards you, you have a brief moment of hesitation and thought that perhaps she meant to destroy you all along, and then the world goes dark.
You awaken almost instantly, and your senses take a moment to orient themselves now that you are no longer in the Shadow Plane, but indeed seem to have been transported back to the Prime Material, and very likely through the time-stream itself.