Dot here
Gameplay begins Friday the 21st
Dotting for great vengeance.
Dotting for justice!
Dotting for lost love!
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dotting
Dot.
Dotting with great foresight.
The pale sun rises over the mountain range to the east.
Ten long days of marching. That's what it took to get you from the shore to the innermost part of this remote and barren island.
There, in secret, arcanists and mystics both had been working on a planar breach strong enough to penetrate Amberfall's ironclad protectives.
Before you stretches a vast army. Divided into a multitude of regiments, they are all waiting the signal.
The lot of you are off to the side, warded by powerful illusion spells. Upon entry to Amberfall, your first task will be to find a safe place to make a base of operations and keep it.
From there, the Remnant leaders will send you all the details they will have obtained and your task to take out the Amberfall leaders will have begun.
Minutes pass, the chanting and arm waving of the spellcasters around you quickens, rising to a crescendo and soon the breach will open.
From astride the powerful, horse-sized dire hyena, the towering and scarred gnoll rests his thick forearms on his mount's shoulder haunch as his mis-matched eyes curiously follow the hypnotic movements of the small spell-singers' arms and bodies.
Neither mount nor rider showed much strain from the ten-day march, and they currently stand idly on the outskirts of this small company of mis-matched warriors… some kind of elite fighting pack, if B'auw had overheard correctly. Who knows, the tongue common to these soft pink-skinned races was often hard to follow.
For the hundredth time, the nose of his massive mount shifts curiously towards the wing'd mount of one of the smallest of B'auw's small pack-mates . And, for the hundredth, a calming hand on her powerful neck stills her. He lets his eyes wander one more time from halfling to elf to human, scowling as he wonders who will stand, who will die, and who will survive as he slides from his saddle and crouches down. His meaty, fur-covered hand scoops up some dirt from the packed ground under his paws, and – with a strange barking yip – calls on the spirits of the desert wind for speed. He can feel their blessing pour into his long, lean leg muscles.
Standing back to his full 7 foot height, B'auw stretches his back and rolls his shoulders before vaulting easily back into the saddle. His mis-matched eyes return to the opening path-between-worlds. He didn't know if he would be one of those to stand or fall, but he would show them his teeth… the teeth of his people… before all was done.
Nine days atop his spectral mount had made Freddy remarkably bored. He'd given up singing for morale come the third day, and resorted to just tapping his fingers to a steady, empty beat on the saddle as they marched. On the tenth he stretched out and lingered on the ground as long as he could, missing the feel of ground beneath his feet, but not more than he missed a myriad of other things.
His eyes kept returning to the amassed legions, and each time he backed away just a little, fearful for what would come from their mission. He had to believe that they would succeed, because they were such a strange assortment of folks that they had to. It was precisely the sort of strange group of people who always came together for the heroic tasks he sang about, and it was a comforting thought to think that they could do it, and that if he was lucky, he could find some quiet tavern after it was all over where he could sing about what they've down.
He stands up at last, stretching out and preparing himself. He pulls his bow out and looks around, wondering which of his allies would benefit most from being hasted.
Nawarld watched the powerfull spellcasting with a frown. So much magic, so much power, so much danger. He should never have agreed to stand for this...
But then, on the other hand, it is a necessity, the better outcome of a loose/loose situation.
To contain the rampart war-magics of Amberfall this sacrifice had to be made, and he could feel ill at its sight as much as he wants, it wont change anything. At least, there is no city anywhere near.
With a sigh he once again checks the straps of his new armor, not trusting the ominous enchantments placed on it, and then leans on his hammer, gazing into nowhere. Waiting for reality to be ripped apart and hell to break loose.
Standing silently by, Calithilon observes the momentous events of the morning, eager to be on the other side of the breach and take the fight to the enemy.
From the back of her savage-looking companion, Beast, Shaelathar waits on the edge of her seat for the spells to be completed. her lance in her hands.
Ten riding had been straining for the Halfling, but she was thankful it was spent in the air rather than bouncing on a horse. She smiled briefly to herself looking at the group assembled and said a brief prayer to Erastil for their success and safe return. Durin, the mighty griffon, seemed much more focused and still than usual as they prepared to cross over.
Rose sits up in her saddle, bow in hand and with a strong aura of good emanating out.
Level 1: Rally Point, Protection from Evil, Deadeye's Arrow, Divine Favor
Level 2: Litany of Righteousness, Litany of Eloquence
Level 3: Fire of Judgement
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Schahrizade lays across the back of her horse, perfectly balanced in the saddle, a piece of chalk in her hand. As she draws the holy symbol of Sarenrae on her breastplate, she casts a sidelong glance to the rest of the "elite" who were stationed here with her. Some of them didn't look too elite, some of them looked too elite and the rest of them...
This bloody portal had best open soon before she got bored. Their chanting was getting louder, but, really, what did that mean besides a second wind? A confirmatory look at the surrounding people revealed that it actually meant that the portal was opening soon. She hurried the chalk drawing on her breastplate, finishing it with a quick swipe-- a horizon line under the angel carrying the sun.
Scattering a handful of silver dust in a circle around herself, she visualizes an impenetrable shield. Schahrizade swings around, into the saddle, and pats her horse's head. "Don't worry, Aladdin," she whispers-- as though the horse can hear her. "I promise that we'll both get through this."
It was potentially not a promise she could keep.
Seila half dozed. She tried to remain conscious through the tedium knowing that falling off the back of Xon ( a good twelve feet off the ground) would be unpleasant and highly embarassing. Everytime it would seem like she was going completely out Xon would shrug, shift, or give a polite cough, an action that sounded more like distant cannon fire than throat clearing, that would jostle her awake and elicit muttered cursing.
She decided to go with a crimson and black attire today, loose fitting and plenty covering. She deeply suspected she'd be covered in a great deal of gore by the end of the day and decided it would be best not to show too much blood.
Taking a second she looked out on the ranks of soldiers. Poor bastards. Remnants was a good way to put it. The Order was good about assimilating, killing, or otherwise eliminating any surviving military from its conquests. In most instances those that could not be coerced in joining their armies were forced anyway through soem dark ritual or another that turned them undead, mutated them into some form of monster, or broke their minds and bodies to the point where the other two options might have been considered a blessed mercy.
And what was left? IF the rumors were true mostly green troops barely out of their pikemen training before the war came to them. The rest comprised of women, children, and old men who all decided it was better to die for a cause then live under the order. The officers consisted of the last remaining nations own officers plus whatever footmen were left from the conquered nations. Idiots.
They were here quaking in their ill fitting boots for what? Destroyed nations? Corrupt kings? Incompetent generals? Misplaced ideals in a world of uncaring gods. In the end regardless of who won reality would settle back in and everyone would sit down and realize two very basic tenants of the universe. One the only thing that mattered at the end of the day was who owed what how much and when was it due. Second, in the case that such that was owed would not be paid how would the one being owed get his due?
Seila planned on getting her due one way or another. She suspected, perhaps correctly, that on the off chance she succeeded she would be betrayed, perhaps by that gnoll or maybe that uncomfortable looking man with the giant hammer, or perhaps even the cute one on top of his magic horse (it's always the good looking ones you have to worry about), and she would have to add a few more corpses to the heap. Then she would go looking for her due. It was an ugly business.
Still, the chance of an untold amount of loot at the heart of the Order was in and of itself promising and if some young buck with ideals got the credit for the guts she splattered all over the walls than so be it.
Xon was, of course, being Xon. The black marbled behemoth in his (or was it her?) serene mask simply stared unmoving into forming disturbance beyond the mage's hands. He was surprisingly personable when he wasn't tearing people limb from limb. But perhaps the anticipation of blood shed was affecting even his unmoving demeanor. He stood unmoving beyond a slight twich of his claws or a long stream of drool leaking out of the corner of that terrible maw in his torso and making a small pool of spit on the ground.
Sliding off his back and hitting the ground on both feet Seila yawned and stretched with her naginata behind her back popping stiff muscles and joints.
"So borrring! So much tension and not even good light show on top of that!"
Casting a couple of good protective spells to make things a little easier later on she hoists her naginata up on her shoulder and leans against the stony form of Xon.
Current Spell Effects on Her: Overland Flight (10 Hours), Barkskin 200 Minutes
Spells Used: 1st:1, 2nd:2, 3rd:1, 4th:All
Current Spell Effects on it: Mage Armor, Greater Magic Fang, Barkskin 200 Minutes
Spells: Shield of the Dawnflower (10 rounds, 1d6+10 damage), Cure Serious Wounds (3d8+10), Haste (10 rounds), Phantom Steed (10 hours), Tactical Acumen (10 rounds, +2), Gallant Inspiration (only on important situations when needed).
Wands: Cure Light Wounds (1d8+5), Feather Fall, Identify
As the battle draws nearer, Freddy finally gets up, casting Phantom Steed and climbing atop his mount, steeling himself. He then calls another spell, drawing a small portion of a map from his component pouch to focus on.
As you ready yourselves, a horn blows in the distance.
The moment has come!
The spellcasters finish one last gesture of power and the entire area is bathed in a shimmering curtain of gold.
Gazing upwards you see the sky peel away to reveal a new landscape... one suddenly bursting in flames.
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You find yourselves in a valley like area.
Fire rains down from above, coming from what appears to be an ironclad airship.
Numbers dwindling, the troops are nevertheless swiftly covered in various protective spells and a cadre of mages disappear from view, blinking straight up, followed by cavalry mounted on gryphons.
A voice fills your thoughts:
"You should escape while you can, that Airship won't relent until we bring it down. I'm guessing the teleportation must have been detected but it doesn't look like they've mustered too many troops just yet. Get to a safe location and we'll contact you once we finish with this hulking mess."
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Nawarlds eyes widden at the raining fire "Freaking mages, can't even get us here safely..." He then quickly looks for cover.
Freddy grabs his horse by the reigns, looking back at his amassed companions and shaking his head. His horse may have had a silent gallop, but the others had proper mounts, which worried him. He didn't bother rousing his song, taking the voice's advice and readying to flee. The sole spell he'd cast on them would hopefully provide enough for everyone to manage until they were safe.
Without much thought to where, Shaelathar urges Beast to move, quickly, to avoid the rain of fire.
"Find cover, Beast! Looks like we teleported right into a firing zone."
Shaelather swiftly looks around for cover and urges Beast towards it.
Beast moves, but not as Shaelathar wants him to, taking a cautious route to avoid being seen, weaving back and forth between the fiery balls of destruction raining down on them.
"Pfah! Leave it to amateurs to dump everyone into an ambush!" Seila half growled.
Xon looked up with its impassive mask seeming to calculate the odds for a brief moment before turning back to the others and announcing in its deep bass voice from behind the mask.
"Fine, I'm not being paid to bring down some flying hunk of metal and death."
Stepping up on a nearby boulder or high area Seila surveys the landscape for a safe location. Xon does the same though in his case only really needing to stand briefly on his hind legs.
Seila's perception.
Xon's perception
Stealth Seila
Stealth Xon
As the new world flickers into existence, the eyes of the bald dwarf snap open and he stands and draws his bow in one smooth action. Scanning the surroundings measuringly, and the airship with an expression of amazement, he grins. " Into t'mouth o'all hells we go!" Crouching low against the ground, he runs forward along the earth, juking and dodging gracefully.
Rose has no desire to flee and wants to stay to take down the airship. Fortunately, Durin wisely chose to flee with the rest of the group bringing the over eager Halfling along for the ride as she huffed in annoyance.
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As Calithilon appears in the new world, he is suddenly attended by a tiny woman with a lithe form and delicate butterfly wings. She is surrounded by sparkling lights and gentle rainbow arcs.
As the elf looks around him for signs of shelter, he inquires of the otherworldly beauty. "Athaniel, do you see any places of safety?
While he speaks, he runs along with the others, the outsider floating gracefully above him.
B'auw calls out for a second gift from the spirits as he rides through into the Order's fiery rain... eyes sweeping for threats and defensible positions at the same time.
The highest totals were:
33 Perception
21 Knowledge (geography)
31 Stealth
31 Survival
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As you head through the raging chaos around you, your skills quickly spy a a small wood in the distance. Using the surrounding inferno to your advantage, you maneuver through the smoke and rocks and manage to make your way there.
From the trees' cover, you are then able to follow a small brook uphill to its source where you find a small cave system consisting of a few crevices, open chambers and a natural spring... the perfect place to make a campsite.
A message sounds again in your head:
"We're taking casualties but the airship should fall soon. We'll be sending you a small detachment soon. In the meantime, do what you can to make a secure base and scout out the immediate area. Our scouts are already reporting that Amberfall seems to be composed of many floating islands... though each one seems to be immensely different from the next. While the one we are on seems to be relatively similar to our woodland home, we have reports coming in of a volcanic isle to the west and a frozen tundra to the north... keep your eyes peeled friends. This missions must not fail."
As beast moves towards the protected caverns, Shaelather looks behind her and to the side for the others. "Come on! We'll get these b@!#@#$s later."
Nawarld looks around, not yet trusting the peace of the cavern. Once he is sure the cavern is empty he'll go to secure the perimeter.
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Schahrizade rides her horse to the mouth of the cave before dismounting and giving a firm order to the horse to stay-- it only half-listens, meandering and grazing.
She takes count of the cave system, finding the natural spring and peering into the cold crystal-clear water. She takes stock of the 'elites' who've made it here with them-- truth be told, she followed the gnoll here to begin with.
"Truly dislike that mental communication system. Jarring, it is. Completely forgot what I was thinking about."
"I can try to make the caves a bit homier if others wish to trapse through the brush to check the perimeter. Perhaps you'll run into polar bears. Never been one for bears."
Schahrizade slaps a palm against a cave wall, setting her palm print alight with flame-- a simple light cantrip, but enough to spread some warm orange glow across the gloomy stone. "Apologies-- I tend to nervously talk, as some of you may have become aware of."
While Beast goes off exploring the cave system, so similar to its home plane, Shaelathar also looks at the perimeter defenses.
"I'm sure there's a way to strengthen our defenses."
(in the caves)
(outside perimeter)
As soon as everyone is through the cave entrance, Calithilon disguises it as just another part of the rock face, while his familiar Athaniel cruises around the cave, investigating.
Rose paces uncomfortably in the cave.
"I hate waiting..."
Then looking up and noticing all the other warriors she brightens up as if realising they are there for the first time.
"Hi! I'm Roselyn Bracebuck, servant of the might forest god Erastil, but you can call me Rose. And this is Durin. He's not evil. Just big." the Halfling proclaims beaming with a massive childlike smile.
B'auw dismounts as he enters the cave, wicked blade rasping from its back-sheath as his paws hit the ground. As the two elves and the stout human man begin the work of searching the cave itself, B'auw reverses direction and heads back outside.
He gives a curious look to the fellow desert-dweller as well as the griffon-mounted halfling. He taps the edge of his blade on his own breastplate, then pats the big hyena. "B'auw. Arau. We'll sweep outside for threats. We'll be fast and quiet. Anyone else coming?"
As he mounts, he just catches the thin elf create some false-wall vision over the mouth of the cave. He grunts in acknowledgement before finding the nearest tree and scratching a slash that points roughly towards the cave opening. Satisfied he can find his way back in, he switches out his blade for his bow, making a wide circuit around the cave's perimeter along with any other fast-moving scouts.
As he rides, he watches for threats, traps, or tracks from any that could be from the Order while he also checks for any natural threats or game trails.
Beast bounds back to Shaelathar, momentarily confused by the illusional wall, then he shakes it off and barges through the illusion.
Shaelathar heads back into the caverns, with Beast beside her and they begin searching for food, perhaps live fish in the spring or anything of that sort.
Thak smiles widely as they descend into the cavern. "Caves and darkness! Me dwarven senses be tinglin' with excitement like beer bubblin' against m'lips." Nodding to B'auw, he replies "Name's Thak Val Zsing, o' clan Zsing. I'll go check'n the back o'this hole." Pausing for a moment, he passes his hand before his eyes and his skin hardens like stone for a moment before returning to their pink hue. Turning, Thak heads off with any others who'll come, peering into corners curiously.
Freddy lets his steed go find somewhere dark to hide in, worrying that if he leaves it with the real animals, they might be disturbed by it. He draws his Wand of Alarm from his belt and casts the spell on the entrance to the cave. "The password for the day will be 'cave'. It's nothing special, but I hadn't the time to prepare a list of fancy words."
"Faerdorcha Maercair," he says, tipping his hat to them. "But you may call me 'Freddy' for simplicity's sake."
"Please observe that this," says Calithilon, putting his hand through the illusory wall "is only an illusion."
"Many call me the Dreamer, though my name in the forests of my youth was Calithilon. This lovely creature is Athaniel, a celestial of surpassing courage and wisdom."
Calithilon and Athaniel accompany Thak on his rounds.
Seila brushes off the casual camraderie. "Names are unimportant at this juncture of our working relationship!" Seila says coldly. "Maybe you live past a week and I reconsider it. Maybe not. Depends on how I feel. Xon! Make camp! I go outside and have quick fly around!"
Shrugging off her pack and passing it to Xon, Seila Pushes past the others and walsk outside.
As the others pause to consider her rudeness the massive brute that is her companion clears its throat. Moving with surprising care inside the cramped cave Xon retireves from seila's pack several important camping things setting them out for the moent it's decided which chamber they will secure themselves in for the night. As he pulls out a bucket to draw from the spring he adds in his booming monotone. Then as an after thought the creature looks up from its task and adds.
Xon Bluff
Seila Perception.
"Whatever. Arcane Monstrosity is arcane monstrosity to me.
But does anyone else find it strange that there is a brazier in here? Seems that this is not just an empty cave after all. Oh, and my name is Nawarld or just Naw.
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Watching the woman go, she almost laughs. Listening to Xon, she decides who exactly she's going to be addressing her questions and comments to. "If she doesn't care what my name is, I don't care what hers is. She can stuff the flower of carnage or whatever." Schahrizade shrugs. "You're reasonable enough, but there's always a reason to be afraid of anything that's as big as yours with a vocabulary to match. Nice to meet you."
Nawarld's dismissal of the polite creature irks her slightly, but she doesn't hold it against him. The monster was frighteningly huge. It was alright for him to be scared.
"My name is Schahrizade," the ifrit says with a bow to the others. "Or just Shy, if you're going to be shouting something like 'behind you!' or 'watch out!'"
She gravitates to the brazier while listening to the others introductions-- everyone but the savage and the painted devil lady were so pleasant! She hoped no one would confuse the nameless one with herself-- or, worse, think they were related.
"Should we light it?" she asks, and points a hand into the brazier's mouth.
Shaelathar looks up from searching for food in or near the natural springs. "I am Shaelathar, and this is Beast. He doesn't really speak a lot, but I'm sure he understands most everything we're talking about." Beast snuffles at the idea.
