When Worlds Collide (Inactive)

Game Master Brian Minhinnick

Bunken immediately begins foraging through the goods they've found, checking the flavors and insides of nearly everything he'd uncovered. First he drinks from the greenish fluid, thinking it looked like wine of some sort, but immediately coughs and sputters the oily substance all over the place. Then he tries the brownish liquid which, although extremely strongly flavored, gives the immediate warming sensation of a very potent alcohol. "A-hah!" he calls triumphantly, "At least this alien people understands the cultural importance of a good, strong booze." Then he begins experimenting with the more solid objects -- he rips open the paper box and finds the strange metal canisters inside; he also rips a hole in the bag that ends up being filled with tasteless, white powder. "What a weird bunch of people... anyone have any ideas about all this junk?"

Dorin leans over the mercenary's take, inspecting the goods. "Hrm." They were nearly all as meaningless to him as to Bunken, but he leans down and pokes a finger at the white powder. Sniffing at it, he touches it to his tongue and his eyebrows raise.

"Tastes like flour."

"I am Xanos." the tall sorcerer says simply as he looks over the collection of gathered items carefully.

Opening the strange box and one of the bright packages, he taps the metal cylinder and crunches the odd wavy strings compacted into the simple block. Smelling it, his eyes narrow.

"Food." he says, tossing it back on the table and going back to the packaging. "This though... this is something else."

He is quiet, staring intently at the odd material.

What is this substance?

The flesh of the elder-beasts, rendered in the vaults of millennia and distilled by alchemy to a perfect liquid clay.

Heated and moulded by thousands of forged arms given life by the sky's rage, all enslaved to the will of a collective gluttony and greed that makes me weep in joy.: 0 = 0

The artificial crust of a bread carried forth across the realms by titans of metal belching smoke and driven by fire, sold to the ignorant as a sustenance masking the slowest and most insidious poison.

The immortal garbage of a culture that worshiped waste.

What is this place? Where are we?

Home.

"Flour and booze. Food indeed." Argoth picks up one of the metal cylinders Bunken had found. He shakes it to hear liquid inside. "A flask of some sort? Oddly shaped." He muses for a moment. Then he flings it against the wall where it breaks open and sprays everywhere.

"Not food! A weapon of some sort. With strange bubbling acid inside. An alchemist weapon, perhaps?"

Then he grabs one of the colorful paper boxes and tears it open. Inside are shiny thin packages. He looks at Xanos' find and shrugs tearing one of the small pouches open. Corn kernels spray out of it. "Corn in these! Though dried and hard. Feed perhaps."

"Hmph." Dorin straightens up from his crouch over the spoils. He takes up the pale dry wavy thing Xanos discarded and taps it on the wall, then takes a bite. He grimaces, obviously less than pleased.

"Food, perhaps, but it will hardly sustain a man. Little here of any use, it seems. Perhaps there will be something worth our time in the next of these...dwellings."

Let me know if there is anything specific you guys are looking for. There's tons of stuff in these houses, just most of it is broken or you have no idea what it does in character.

Argoth leaves the room to look for sleeping quarters. There must be some wealth here. Maybe furs or jewels.

Anhur simply takes a moment to sit while everyone else rummages for whatever it is they're after.

The upstairs level of the structure is mostly collapsed in on itself, that appears to have been where the sleeping chambers were. Argoth clambers up the debris ridden steps and looks around. He eventually finds a couple small pieces of gold and silver jewelry. Rings, necklaces and the like. Such things would only be worn by nobility where he came from. There is also a door that leads to a set of downward steps. The room under the house is in relatively good repair, though the floor is covered in a layer of slick algea infused water. There are three more of the large divan-chair things, and several shelves with more small metal cylinders. They have pictures of various fruits and vegetables on them, while some of the larger ones seem to be paint. There are boxes of clothes and other incomprehensible objects made of the hard shiny material that they've never seen before (plastic).

Argoth pockets the gold and jewels quickly, hoping no one saw anything. I'll live like a king! That is, if we ever get back.

He returns back downstairs. "The upper levels are collapsing. Some odd things up there, but mostly debris."

Just to be clear, there is a basement (the down steps) and there are four bedrooms upstairs (ruined collapsed).

Dorin turns to Xanos. "Well, wizard? What do you need to get us back?"

"If that's even possible," Bunken adds hopefully. "Though if we do make it back, just and handful of some of these artifacts and we could revolutionize everyone's understanding of the world," he says, then takes another swig of the whiskey.

"What with this stuff?" Argoth lifts some of the hard, shiny material. "It bends too easily. You can't make anything out of it like you can with wood. Though, being able to see through it...That is interesting."

So after searching the house, what's the plan? Looks like a couple hours before dark.

"I think we should scout the other structures in the area. We run the risk of entangling ourselves with more of those... things, but this structure seems entirely unsuitable for the night."

Most of the others are in much worse repair. It's unlikely you'll find something better in the immediate area. However it would be relatively simple work to construct some sort of basic shelter. There's plenty of wood to be cannibalized from the houses, and there's a couple of those heavy duty blue plastic tarps in the basement. In one of the open bays fronting the house (garage), you find a large metal box with tools in it. Some of them you don't recognize, but there is a hammer and plenty of nails.

Argoth stares at the plethora of nails. "Perhaps this man was a blacksmith or knew one closely. Who would have so many nails?" He inspect some of the other odd tools, but is both confused and amazed at their construction and function.

"Perhaps we should just stay here for the night. At least this place will keep out the wind and rain."

"We are here at the whim of Hastur, called the King in Yellow, a powerful demon with a talent for warping space and time. If we are to get back, first we must learn where we are, then we must learn the means by which Hastur caused the rift. Then, I believe I can reverse the process."

Dorin frowns, displeased by this news. "This sounds like it may take some time." Nodding at Argoth, he continues, "That may be the best course, for this night. And we have just proven that we can defend this place, after all."

Bunken immediately begins looking for a comfortable place to bed down. Preferably somewhere far from any windows or doors and behind a largeish object to conceal him from anyone or anything that enters the room. "Well if we're staying here, best be smart about it. That magical barrier won't last throughout the night, I guess?" he asks, directed towards Xanos.

"We should make a barricade and trap it with some sort of alarm." Anhur rubs his temples. "This talk of demons and rifts... I've not taste for all this."

The basement would be relatively easy to barricade. Only one door leads down there, and there are no windows. The floor is wet, but it could be cleaned up pretty easily and there are two couches and a futon.

"The wards will fade with moonrise. Before then we should gather anything of interest and head to the basement. I may be able to devise a ward for that door which will last through the night."

Argoth helps build up the barricade, though he stays his distance from Xanos as the man works his magic. He also rummages around for any sort of food they can take with them.

Crackers, dried/cured meats, etc.

There are the specifics I mentioned above (ramen, soda, rice, flour etc). The basement also has a big metal shelf with a hundred or so cans of vegetables, fruit and soup. You guy's will have to figure out how to open them, but most of them have picture of what's inside on the labels so it's not too tough to figure out what they must be. Essentially you have as much food as you can carry.

With Dorin around, that's a lot. Good thing too. He eats like he's hosting a parasite or three.

Hey, what's going on in my intestines is my business.

Scouring the house with Argoth, Dorin hefts several loads worth of the metal containers with pictures of food on them, presuming that they are what they seem to be. He stops in the smaller room with the cooking implements, grabbing the cleaver he'd spotted earlier. He muses on the strange way these people apparently store corn as he makes his way to the basement.

Are you barricading the basement door with magic, or mundane means, or both? Please be detailed. Carrying the food you found upstairs down to the rest of it on the shelves is not difficult. The biggest thing you've got is the 45 KG bag of rice. We'll say there are fifty cans of various veggies, fruit and soups on the shelves. Along with that you've got the flour, the ramen noodles, oil, whiskey and mountain dew (which remains unrecognized as food).

Tools wise, you were able to pick out and recognize 2 hammers, a saw, a hatchet, a wood axe, nails, a file, an awl, two shovels and a pickaxe.

As the men work searching the house and organizing their finds in the basement, the wind picks up. Dark clouds begin to roll in from the horizon and the booming of thunder can be heard in the distance. The Aquilonians have begun looking to Dorin for leadership after the shock of the situation wore off. Their appointed spokesman, a brown haired man in his thirties with a horse face named Gaston, has approached Dorin. "You seems to know what's going on, or at least you're not scared of those monsters. What do you want us to do?"

Dorin looks down at the Aquilonian with an amused air of mild confusion. "Do? Hm. Any of you who can use a hammer, help secure this place - if more of those things show up, we shall need the time to wake the sleepers. The rest of you..."

He looks around the damp basement for a moment, attempting to find something worthwhile for them to accomplish. Dorin has never been in a position of leadership before, and while it clearly does not sit well with him, he just as clearly does not want to fail. The huge Aesir has been under the command of others often enough to know that it's always good to feel like your efforts are of use.

"Help us gather supplies to this place, and clear the area as best you can. We may be staying here some time, and we should not sleep on wet ground if we can help it." He seems to be done, but casts glances at the rest of the more capable fighters to see if they have further suggestions.

"Doom - is there anything you need to assist your..." his mouth twists uncomfortably at the idea, "Magic making?"

The Aquilonians set about cleaning up the basement and organizing supplies. They find some unrotted blankets in a crawlspace along with another of the thick paper boxes. On the outside is a picture of some kind of tent, of a construction that puts even the Khans of Hyrkania to shame. Inside the box are a great bale of some sort of strange slick shiny cloth, and several thin flexible rods capped with metal. Some of them are attached to one another with a flexible string. There is a small folded paper with pictures depicting men putting the rods together and constructing the tent.

Dorin strides over to the new find, poking at the green material with a meaty finger and wondering at the substance. "Hm. Something like oilcloth, I think. It should be useful when we need to travel. A good find," he concludes somewhat uncertainly, nodding approvingly to the Aquilonians.

Anhur makes his way to Xanos, attempting to remain unheard by the others.
"So... you are a sorcerer of some note, it would seem. Do you really think you can ward us for the night?"

Argoth find a can with a picture of beans, though from the image, they look like the most delicious beans ever created. He grabs the cleaver and tries to cut into the metal.

As the Aquilonians set down to business, Bunken searches out a chair or stoop to sit on and begins to drink the whiskey. After several sips he joins Argoth in trying to pry open the can using the head of one of his arrows. Giving up, he grabs a hammer from one of the working Aquilonians and bashes the metal container as hard as he can, a slouching smile on his face.

The cleaver can eventually open the can, but it will be very dull after a few times of doing that. These people must have had an easier way to get these things open. Inside are some small reddish brown beans, with chunks of smoked pork all floating in a thick sweet syrup. They are quite yummy.

"Make with your barricade, Aesir. When you finish, I will see to my end of things. All the help I need is for you to hurry."

"So... you are a sorcerer of some note, it would seem. Do you really think you can ward us for the night?"

"I was a sorcerer of note. Now I am nothing, but this I can still manage."

You have always been nothing. Now you simply realize it.

Quiet.

Anhur makes a run upstairs where some of the presumably food was found, grabbing handfuls of exotic tools.
Perhaps a few of these will be of use to us. I am almost certain some must have great and wondrous properties!

He finds screw drivers, a power drill, a socket wrench with sockets, vicegrip pliers, and a circular power saw.

Dorin goes upstairs, his weapon slung on his back and a smaller hammer thrust through his belt, taking with him whatever Aquilonians were currently unoccupied. "Find anything loose that we can use to bar the door."

Remembering some of the tales his father told him of his reckless past, Dorin adds, "Take nothing that holds up the building, but tear loose anything that might-" he breaks off, coming across a bit of shelving in the pantry. With a twist of his mighty arms, he breaks it free of the wall. With a satisfied grunt, he concludes, "Anything like this."

In a few minutes the group has assembled a foot high pile of variously shaped and colored wood scavenged from the building.

Dorin and the Aquilonians gather up their materials and head for the basement, where he sets the most confident carpenters to barricading the door.

The door is thoroughly barricaded and the night comes. A storm comes with it. Heavy winds and rains lash the structure above them. Several times during the cold night a loud thunking upstairs causes whoever's on sentry duty to start, but each time it turns out to simply be the wind.

The ceiling of the basement is leaky in several places. A few buckets take care of the dripping, and the basement is prevented from returning to its damp state. They also serve the second purpose of storing the relatively clean water for drinking.

By morning time the storm has cleared up. The chirping of birds outside and the loud buzzing of insects can be heard accompanying the sun's rise.

What're you gonna do now?

Bunken wakes up and the first thing he does is a load a bowl of tobacco in his pipe. Smoking, he peeks through the cracks in their barricades.

"Well, as lovely as this fortified little hole is, I think we should explore a bit today. Maybe find something a bit more comfortable, and tastier I suppose." He retrieves the now half-empty whiskey bottle from its spot on the floor next to where he slept, takes a small swig to wet his lips, and then begins hammering open cans of food for the group's breakfast.

Anhur wakes up startled from the hammering.
"It seems day is upon us already." he sits confused for a moment, trying to remember where he is and how he got there.
"At very least, there is a dawn in this world."
Anhur begins to rise and pack anything he thinks might be valuable, including a few food cans and a couple of the kitchen knives that Dorin found.

Argoth sleeps fitfully, woken seemingly every half hour by the sound of the wind. Can't even get a good night's sleep in this blasted place.

When dawn comes, they find him sitting up in a corner of the room, brooding. As the others rise, he get some of the cans of food and he uses one of the nails and the hammer to help open the metal container.

"There must be a sorceror on this side who can send us back. We should find a town and see what they know."

Xanos was awake before the rest and was awake in a meditative pose every time Argoth had stirred. He may not have slept at all.

"The night was as long as it should be, which it should not have been." he said to Dorin when the big man woke.

Argoth and Xanos feel something strange inside them. Its as if they can feel the moods of the others drifting into their own consciousnesses. They feel a well of power in the back of their minds, it feels like warm yellow sunlight. To Xanos, it feels similar to the demonic power he draws into himself when working magics, but its source is his own being not something external. To Argoth it is a completely alien feeling.

Xanos' eyes went wide.

The manacles! Do they not function in this realm? Can I tap my own energies again?

A flare of concentration that should have filled him with godlike power brought fourth only frustration.

Inside him, things laughed. His runic tattoos seemed to peel and crack letting wisps of black smoke leak out from beneath his skin.

Something wrong, little creature?

Quiet. I have no patience for you right now.

Good...

Ripping off one of his heavy gloves, he stared at his hand. Black and white swirls of energy poured fourth casting odd liquid light against the walls.

"No." he growled in frustration and disappointment.

I am still... bound. What is this then?

Closing his eyes in meditation he searched with his second sight, trying to find the source of this new font of power and tap it.

Psionic manifestation: 2d6 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (2, 6) + 3 + 1 = 12

Argoth rises during the early early morning to find Xanos sitting up. What are you doing Sorceror? He sits with his back against the wall and his head is pounding. It's like I drank Bunken's whole bottle of whiskey last night. Only worse.

He looks at Xanos, trying to keep his guard up. Are you watching me, Sorceror? What's going on here? The pounding his head continues until it's like some creature about to burst forth from his skull. Argoth can barely keep his eyes open it hurts so much. At some point, the sellsword actually contemplates cutting out part of his own head.

Dawn comes and the others find him passed out in the corner.