First
A blue, cloudless sky, with the singing of birds all throughout Westervale's many cherry trees, greets the morning that finds the day's crop of adventurers gathered in Light's Justice Square, the appropriated entryway for the Tower of Light event.
Adventurers of all shapes and sizes mill about in the square, doing last-minute shopping at some of the helpful vendor stalls or simply talking with one another. Dotted along the outer walls are the occasional lone wolf adventurer keeping to themselves and simply waiting to be called by the attendants.
The attendants are tall women with the top halves of their faces completely obscured by their white ritual robes and hoods. A mask of material that allows them to see through is drawn across their face at the nose. In high, serene voices, they call out name after name, whether it be an individual or the name of an adventuring party. When called, adventurers register their final waiver forms exonerating the King of all legal action as a result of injuries or death incurred by the Tower. Once that grim paperwork is collected and filed away, the attendants sweep to the side and allow the adventurers to enter a large set of double-doors. Beyond the double-doors is a mysterious portal crackling with electricity, but you can't get more than a glimpse before the doors slam shut again.
The maximum size of any group is 6, that you know. You see groups of six, individuals, and every combination in between milling about. It's a large crowd, and diverse - races from all corners of the continent are represented in greater or fewer numbers.
Father Jarad is surprised at the crowd, he didn't think this event would attract so many people, he pulls out a piece of bread and eats it as he stands looking around all the adventurers and people that have gathered here,
Many lives will be lost in there, Boran show them the way
He walks around for a while while thinking,
Maybe I should just register and get assigned to a group...
He starts looking for the registration table.
Registration is fairly straightforward - the line is being processed quickly and efficiently by the Attendants to the Tower. You reach the front of the line and look up...and up and up...at one of the tall women carrying a quill and a flat surface. In a lilting voice, she asks, "Name, profession?" while looking down at a clipboard.
Jarad fixes his beard and clears his throat,
"I am Father Jarad, humble servitor of Boran, god of Restoration. I can help with healing and combat..."
He draws breath as the walk tired him, he cleans the sweat on his forehead and finishes,
"I seek to help adventurers on this journey."
Hakonyr harrumphs impatiently as the bald, kindly-eyed man in front of him takes more time than he thinks is necessary to register.
"One cannot keep a storm at bay," he grumbles. "The longer they keep me here, the greater my fury. Woe to whatever meets me on the other side of that door."
"Calm down, friend. There is no rush to meet death, a slow paced life is longer than a fast paced one. I'll get my papers and then you can register." Father Jarad calmly talks as he turn back to meet the adventurer, he bows his head and turns again at the tall women.
The attendants serenely mark down your information and gesture off to one side, where a wild-haired and wild-eyed youth converses in a rapid tongue with a tall, dignified-looking man. He clutches weighted boomerangs as weapons and stops his question to stare at you suspiciously as you approach. The well-dressed man he was speaking to, a tall Elf with tousled red hair, raises his chin in greeting.
"Hello there, new blood," the Elf states, looking the two of you over. "I'm Kerrigan, your Agent. This is...CJ."
CJ spits. "I'm Carthmajininifarnian, you buffoon! But CJ will suffice if your tongue is too slow to speak correctly."
CJ crosses his arms as he turns to face Father Jarad and Hakonyr. "Look at the pair of rubes I was assigned with!" he turns back to you. "I'm assigned with the pair of you and three other schmucks to enter the Tower together, but make no mistake. I'm in this for myself and you'd all better just stay out of my way."
"Nice to meet you, CJ." He does a small nod,
"I think team work would be better for this challenge, if we all want to finish alive. If you are as good as you think you are, then you shall find use in our skills." Jarad finishes with a small laugh and tapping his hands on his belly.
Galadin approaches the registration area, and notices the small commotion created by CJ et al. He is slightly drawn the the register near him, simply so he can place himself in a place to intervene should things get rowdy.
To Kerrigan he says, Galadin, the Paladin is I. Know of any groups with an opening? He motions towards the men beside him. Perhaps these gentlemen?
Kerrigan sizes you up coldly. Taking out a small ruby monacle, he gazes at you through it. It shimmers and flashes slightly in the morning light as he regards you. "Those housing resident monstrous spirits of any description count against a group's monstrous quota." it sounds like he's reciting something he's said many, many times. [b]"You'll do just fine, however.
Galadin laughs nervously.Yeah!... Er... Monster on the... battlefield! He eyes his potential future companions to see if his bluff has worked, thumbing towards Kerrigan as if they were old buddies sharing a joke.
Your Agent sighs irritably. "It's counterproductive to the success of my team to withhold information about your teammate's capabilities...and drawbacks...as I understand them." He glances down at his clipboard. "Which is why I've taken the liberty of creating files on each of you." He passes out uncomfortably detailed backstories (from the recruitment thread) to each of you in-character.
Stepping with ease through the bustling crowd, Qadir weaved his way towards the recruitment tables, his well worn shield carried with a sense of comfortable familiarity. His spears, slung across his back in slings, were barely noticed, their weight a presence that is only noticed when absent. Glancing behind him, Qadir shakes his head and pauses to allow his companion, the shaman Zim'wa, a moment to catch up.
"My friend, you are far too slow on your feet. If you cannot walk with ease through this crowd, how can you hope to dodge the killing thrust of your enemy's spear? It would be a great shame for you to have come so far only to fall on the first blade to present itself." Eyes tightening in silent amusement, Qadir turns back to the tables and enters the closest of the lines. "This market is acceptably beautiful -unlike much of this barbaric land- and though it doesn't compare to the finest of the gardens in Ghazwara."
With this backhanded compliment, Qadir makes his final few steps to join the line, where he waits with patiently for his opportunity to join the fight.
Cappy appears as if out of nowhere, dressed in an over sized human jacket with it's sleeves rolled up to fit his arms. A large "newsboy" style cap also sits on his head giving the overall impression of a walking pile of laundry.
"Cappy's the name. Second story man, safe cracker, handy with a blade and aquirer of the unaquirable."
As he speaks he alternates between picking his grimy nails and gesturing with a dagger in his left hand. He eyes up the odd assortment of adventurers finding the thick looking bald cleric again. Seeing that he seems to be teaming up with some other equally thick and well armored folks as well as someone who appears to be throwing a temper tantrum, he muses that they look like they could be fun. At the very least they are some meat shields between he and whatever might be in the Tower.
He jerks his thumb to the group and motions to Kerrigan
"Oy! This lot'll do nicely.
He slinks up to Father Jared and takes a look to see what's so great about this "CJ" character.
Cappy and Qadir, with Zim'wa in tow, are both assigned to Agent Kerrigan's team, whereupon he provides you with detailed information on your party members.
When you are all assembled, the elf crosses his arms and regards all of you. He looks down at his clipboard, his mouth narrowing to a thin line. Drawing a wand from his pocket, he traces a symbol in the air, leaving behind a thin white trail of light. When the symbol is completed, it fades from the air, and reappears briefly as afterimages in the center of your vision, making all of you blink a few times.
CJ gets angry about it. "What's the big idea, a@!+$!+? Get that magic shit out of my eyes!" he complains, rubbing at them.
Kerrigan gives a long-suffering sigh. "It's a harmless spell, designed to allow viewers to watch your adventures - when they're exciting."
He motions for you all to follow him out of the market square, past the waiting attendants who watch you silently as you walk past. "That brings me to my next point. You all are expected to perform for the people of Westervale, and the acclaim and support of your viewing public will have affects on the challenges you face, as well as the advantages you're granted." As he speaks, he leads you up a narrow stairwell. With natural elven grace, he turns around and ascends the stairs walking backwards, speaking with the ease of a well-heeled tour guide.
"Thus," he continues, "the more daring risks you attempt, the harder you make it on yourself, the better a show you put on...for your deaths WILL be a show...the longer you'll last. Please the people of Westervale with your adventures enough, and you may be permitted boons from the outside world, delivered to you via my magic." the red-haired elf smiles wanly for the first time. "My success as an Agent is tied to your adventures, so don't disappoint me."
The stairwell opens up again to a wide plaza. No members of the public are allowed this far - you see magically enchanted scrying orbs floating here and there, including one that seems to be recording an interview of a reporter. All around you you see other Agents wearing ruby monacles examining their adventuring groups and discussing tactics with them.
After making sure you can all hear him and are gathered around, Kerrigan continues. "There are no rules within the Tower of Light, save one - be as entertaining as possible. So far, ratings have been incredibly high for the deaths of the first wave of adventurers that have braved the tower, and we expect the high viewer numbers to continue. You will be rewarded for ensuring that this happens, and for encouraging situations that promote bets as to whether you will survive."
On the far end of the plaza are massive double doors flanked by enormous stone lions, The lions suddenly animate, standing on their platforms and shaking their stone manes side to side. They roar as one, silencing all discussion momentarily.
Kerrigan glances over his shoulder at them, then turns back to you. "I hope you're all prepared, because that's the signal. This batch of adventurers are being sent in, you included." All around you you see Agents walking away from their assigned groups. The double doors begin to swing open. What do you do?
"My friend, you are far too slow on your feet..."
"Ah, but the crowd is twice as dense as you see. As I've said before, more than mortals have taken an interest in this gathering." As if to make a point, Zim'wa pauses momentarily for a larger spirit to pass in front of him. "It would not be wise to anger the spirits before such an undertaking."
The amassment of spirits made quickly distinquishing any of them almost impossible. As he and Quadir approached their assigned group however, he did see two things of interest - a throng of lightning spirits clustered near a man who looked quite stormy himself, and a darker spirit hunched almost possessively over a much more heavily armored one. The others did not draw special attention from the spirits, but that did not mean they weren't skilled or talented in their own way. A fact Quadir was a proven example of.
------
"That brings me to my next point. You all are expected to perform for the people of Westervale, and the acclaim and support of your viewing public will have affects on the challenges you face, as well as the advantages you're granted."
Zim'wa listens with interest as they ascend, the talismans tied to his staff clacking together softly as the extra motion required makes them swing a bit. "So, we are to be watched not only by spirits, but the people as well. Interesting." The shaman wondered if, perhaps, there was something beyond the obvious here, but as a relative stranger to this country he doubted he'd know if there was. It did, however, sound as if they were almost (but not quite) more interested in the deaths of those participating than their survival. Not exactly a comforting thought.
"An interesting way to entertain the people..." Jarad looks around at all the adventurers preparing to enter the tower,
"It would be wise to wait for everyone to get in, be the last ones or among the last ones, the first ones will rush it and meet death as fast as they get in" He tells at his new group and he draws his warhammer and his shield.
"Well, anyone watching me had better be prepared," Hakonyr glances around him as if addressing his unseen audience. "They will be shocked and awed by the power I harness."
Cappy leans out from behind one of the other characters to take a good hard look at whatever is on the other side of the doors when they open.
Galadin nods at Father Jarad in agreement. He pretends to occupy himself with the buckles on his armor, then clumsily draws his sword, dropping it. The same routine applies to his shield.
Good thing we have some competent champions, for I fear myself lacking at the moment...
He winks at his companions, hoping they follow his lead.
Father Jarad tries to follow Galadin by dropping on one knee and starts praying, hopefully make time to enter at the last moment.
"Give me a second, We will need all the help we can in there, divine, magical or luck." He bows his head.
"Boran, lead our way to finish this quest we start today, bless us with your light and heal our wounds if we suffer in combat, give us strenght to keep going and protect us..." He finishes his pray with a small chanting that's more lengthy than it's supposed to be.
"My knees are killind me" The Father complains as he tries to get up and his weight and age don't let him.
"STRANGERS! WELCOME!" an incredibly deep voice booms from within the darkened doorway. Those of you who are attuned to the otherworldly can sense a flash of something - a great evil coming from within the tower. The feeling disappears as quickly as it first appears.
"COME CLOSER!" the voice beckons. Suddenly you all feel yourselves gripped by a powerful magic. You feel yourself discorporating! As your bodies disappear piece by piece over the course of a few seconds, your vision grows dark and the doorway seems to be rushing at you...
You awaken in a blasted landscape, dotted with dead trees and shrubs with dark gray clouds overhead. There's no sign of the Agent, though you do see the two other groups of adventurers that were present with you before groggily waking up and standing not far from your group.
A robe with hood up appears overhead, floating above you. "I BID YOU WELCOME ONCE MORE, BUT I WILL NOT CALL YOU STRANGERS AGAIN! FOR YOU ARE NOW IN MY HOUSE...MY DOMAIN! I...AM YOUR HOST, HECTOR LAPREE, SERVANT TO THE KING VESTERI!"
The hood shows no face underneath. You hear amused laughter coming from the hood. "AS YOU KNOW," the deep voice booms, "YOU ARE HERE TO ASCEND TO THE TOP FLOOR OF THE TOWER OF LIGHT! BUT IT WOULDN'T BE A GOOD SHOW IF IT WERE EASY, WOULD IT?" The robed figure gestures behind him to the horizon, revealing no hands beneath the sleeves. "THAT CASTLE IS YOUR DESTINATION, WHERE THE FINAL CHALLENGE OF THESE LANDS CAN BE FOUND. BUT TO DEFEAT IT YOU MUST FIRST REACH IT, WHICH WILL BE EASIER SAID THAN DONE! BEHOLD!"
The robed figure gestures, and behind you you see a bright flash of light. From the earth rise clay shapes that quickly coalesce into the forms of men armored in foreign-looking gear, mounted on horseback. With a roar they begin charging at you! They'll be upon you in minutes!
"GOOD LUCK SURVIVING! MAY THE BEST TEAM WIN!" Hector laughs once more and the robed figure disappears. Away behind you you can hear the screaming of the clay horsemen as they gallop straight for you.
You glance at the other two adventuring parties - one is composed largely of elves, with one centaur archer, and the other is a mix of humans and dwarves accompanied by a half-giant wielding a huge club. You hear the centaur archer cry, "Away! To the high ground!" and begins leading her group away from the horsemen across the field to some hills off in the distance.
"No! Take cover in that ruined temple, it's closer!" one of the dwarves shouts. The group with the half-giant in tow begins to flee in that direction instead.
What do you do?
Cappy draws his rapier and keeps his throwing dagger in his left hand. He looks up at his companions, thinking one of them better make a plan but he keeps an eye on the horsemen. If nobody has done anything (to his liking) he'll leap behind a tree or into a bush while there's still time, and wait for a chance to leap out and slit some throats. It's wouldn't be the first time he's hamstrung a horse. For now he readies himself and see if anyone else has any ideas...
There are some scattered piles of stone and broken masonry that might present difficulties for a cavalry charge.
"Run for the ruins, take cover and stay close as a group" Jarad yells and starts running towards the temple.
"I hate running...and why did I ate too much this morning" The Father questions himself as he runs trying not to trip.
The fact that many of the spirits in attendance suddenly shy away from the door as it opens and the voice begins to speak is very ominous to Zim'wa, but the shaman has little time to process it before the magic takes hold and takes him away... presumably into the tower...
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Peering over at the ruins, Zim'wa comes to the same decision just as the priest takes off towards it. He follows without further comment - even if he disagreed, there was little to no time to argue, and his silent agreement would hopefully sway the others if they had not come to the same conclusion.
As they run, Zim'wa mentally reviews the spirits he already has bound to totems - Chu-a, the Python; Amokekun, the Tiger; Naandawi, the Mender. He had a feeling he'd be calling on their help soon.
You see a smaller band of the horsemen break off in pursuit of the elven group while the larger remainder of the clay warriors charge at you, waving their weapons overhead and screaming. Their voices sound as human, but warped somehow.
Jarad, your initiative means you reach the ruins not long after the half-giant's group, who started out a bit closer than you did. You have to jump over a fallen plinth and scramble over loose rocks and cobblestones, but you make it past the outermost ring of wall-rubble just as Zim'wa catches up to you.
The two of you: You see the final pair of adventurers in the other party, a human and a dwarf, fleeing through an archway into what looks like a courtyard surrounded by broken walls, where you see the half-giant readying his club. You also see a guard tower that might have once been part of a wall, but now stands alone but intact. Finally, a third option presents itself - off to your right, a smaller trench leads to what looks like an unlocked cellar door, mostly overgrown with dead plants. What do you do?
The rest of you are running to catch up (I assume) as you see Zim'wa and Jarad glancing left and right, evaluating options.
Looking around quickly, Zim'wa sees the entrance to the cellar and the tower - standing with the other group in the courtyard might give them more numbers, but he had a hunch that it would be better to split up the horsemen - and even better, get them off the horses.
"The cellar? Over there?" the shaman speaks quickly as he comes to a stop next to the cleric. "If it's not caved in, it'll let us fight them one by one."
"The cellar...go...!" Jarad tries to speak while keeping his breath, he runs towards the cellar with shield and warhammer in hand.
Galadin takes the tail end to ensure the entire group stays together. Follow the old man. Faster! Stick together!
Cappy moves more quickly than his small frame might suggest and is in the ruins and along side the cleric.
Hee hee! Here's where I earn my keep!
He twiddles his fingers and sets to work. If he has time he checks the door for traps before seeing if it's locked and of course making short work of the lock if there is one.
The invisible throngs surrounding him do little to settle Qadir's nerves and he glances around warily, feeling caged in. The skirmisher fingers his spears nervously as he observers, "Your wisdom is again evident for all to see, Shaman."
Frowning at his 'agent', Qadir harrumphs and rolls his eyes. This is mere spectacle to these fools. We face grave danger as a matter of course and these soft people view it as a game. Miserable. This criticism doesn't stop the Qadir from searching the opening doors hungrily for signs of what is to come.
Recognizing sense when he hears it, Qadir looses one of his spears from it's sling and takes off with the rest, loping easily alongside the well armored man. "It seems we are to have a fight. I will be as a wolf, dancing around our enemy and ripping into him when I can. You will hunt with me with your rough hacking and slashing, metal man?" After the group reaches the door, Qadir takes up a defensive position alongside Galadin, dancing back and forth energetically on the balls of his feet.
Galadin has a flash in his eye as he looks towards his comrade. He grins, and Qadir is certain for a moment he sees fangs. He shakes his head, then turns his focus again to the approaching threat and task at hand.
More wolves for the pack...
Hakonyr gazes at the charging horseman, throws back his head, and laughs.
"Ha ha! Bring on your clay toy soldiers," he shouts. "I wield the inexhaustible arsenal of the-" He stops when he sees everyone else has made a run for the cellar.
He dashes over to join his companions, taking up a position beside Galadin. "As I was saying: I wield the inexhaustible arsenal of the Storm!"
Jarad, Galadin, Zim'wa and Hakonyr take up positions in front of the cellar door. Hakonyr, most of the horsemen are out of range of traditional projectiles, but lightning can reach them.
You strike a horseman who was leading the charge and pierce clean through the clay soldier's armor - he staggers in his saddle and the clay horse runs on, merely following the "herd" now. Roll your damage and describe your attack. Your attack draws attention to you - you see some of the horsemen behind your target scream in rage and level their weapons at you in particular. You've "gained a lot of aggro" as the saying goes.
Cappy, you reach for the cellar door only to find that the padlock is rusted to worthlessness. You'd need to use your Trap Expert move to try to search for traps, however - so I'd need to see a roll. Otherwise, the door appears unlocked and you can try just opening it. You see something odd without having to roll, though - a small illusion stone, common throughout Westervale for disseminating information quickly, is placed next to the doorframe. As you gaze at it, you see the words "Audience Participation: Vote Now!" in illusory letters hovering above the stone. "Cellar: Good Idea, or Bad Idea?" reads the illusion stone's sub-header. A green column and a red column are growing together as your audience casts their votes mentally. Right now the audience seems conflicted about the idea - they both rapidly rise at the same rate.
"For the mighty beard of Boran, they do really want a show!" The Father says with a crackig voice, hoping his choice to run in the temple ruins won't be their doom,
Edit: Thanks Cappy!
"I shall give them a show!" He shouts with strenght trying to call the divine favor of his god to empower his weapon shinning with bright light and fire around it.
Cappy grumbles a bit, taken aback by the strange illusion.
To answer your question that I forgot to answer earlier, Zim'wa - the cellar door is old, rotted slightly, but intact and mostly solid. The plants that have overgrown it have died. That's all you can tell about it.
Lightning crackles from each of Hakonyr's right hand fingertips and braid together into a single jagged bolt that stabs into the chest of the clay horseman.
Speaking to few and blatantly ignoring the line a large man dressed in an old leather kilt and serape seeks out the 'agent'.
"Is this where men seek death?"
When Kerrigan begins to explain the goal and rules Xha interrupts him. "Do not cloud the air. Death is here, I am here. Open the door."
When Kerrigan explains that groups are limited to six and that his own success depends on the group's fate Xha interrupts him again. "Let the other agents sit at six, go to seven and win your prize. If these others trouble you send then to me and we shall discuss the rules. Besides our numbers will fall soon enough."
Drawing a large single edged sword from beneath his dust colored serape Xha strides a bit out from the group. Just far enough the more tactically minded notice to allow the group to flank the coming horsemen.
booms the deep, disembodied voice of Hector LaPree. The sound of cheering is broadcast over the battlefield briefly as illusory fireworks go off over Hakonyr's head.
The onrushing soldiers' eyes turn to lock on the channeler as one. Hakonyr, you look up, to see this rotating slowly over your head, singling you out to the horsemen, who roar in renewed fury.
Zim'wa looks on as the horsemen reach the outer ring of rubble. To his surprise, as the horsemen near the masonry, they simply smash through the stones with staggering force and barely slow down! Rocks go flying away in all directions from the sharp flashing of the horses' hooves. They'll be upon you in 30 seconds or less - time for one last-second action. They're bearing down on Hakonyr in particular - even drawing some of the horsemen away from the other adventuring group! Seeing this, Qadir the Dancer notices that the other party, including the half-giant, is making their way over to the horizon's castle.
Meanwhile, the old and portly cleric suddenly looks much more intimidating thanks to the magic of his weapon belching out righteous fire to the heavens. The wizened human's warhammer relights with the glories of old combat as the battle is soon to be joined.
Cappy, the door is not trapped and not locked. There are old roots growing over the door, but a moment's cutting with your trusty knife should see them open!
Seeing the spirit begin to escape from the body of the electrocuted soldier, Zim'wa quickly grabs a specially-carved effigy on his staff, holding it aloft and concentrates on pulling the newly released spirit to him, with the promise of a new, if temporary, home.
Sliding one foot backwards into a half-combat, half-retreating stance, Zim'wa glances backwards at the door. "Are we in or out?" He calls out over the sound of bursting masonry.
Though the warriors nearest to the injured soldier continue to stare down Hakonyr in their charge, many of the group break off to charge down the fearless berserker. Some of the soldiers in the backlines carry bows that rain arrows on you from above! What do you do?