Volcano's Land - Mercury Morn

Game Master Miner Cotren

"Thanks to us, not as bad as they could have been. Thanks to me specifically, Wamblee made it." Abnaki ignores the crack about godhood, or at least seems to. [b]"Ky-La is dead and dusted, most likely for good this time, and Samen got some new spectacles out of it. Gabe's a human now, whatever that means, we unmade another of Moon's great servitors, and the Sun-Lord that lives in the kettle learned a little humility. So what's new with you?"

With victory in hand, Samen scans the crowd, looking for his brother. He breathes an enormous sigh of relief upon seeing him.

"We got back as soon as we could. Our mission was a success, but victory in one place nearly brought defeat in another. The 4th level of the library was more of a creative nexus of reality. While it was necessary, it was incredibly dangerous for Abnaki and I to be there. We could've ascended to godhood. Abnaki at least got some worshippers out of the deal."

Samen winces. "Oh, and I'm pretty sure dragons are no longer extinct. Sorry about that."

"How bad are the casualties here?"

Wamblee climbs unsteadily to his feet. He smiles, though he winces a bit as it pulls on the puckered scars on the left side his face. "Many of the fallen are merely wounded. We would all be dead if it were not for your timely intervention." He bows deeply, somewhat steadier now. "The Tribe of Peace thanks you. I thank you."

Gabe breathes heavily trying to catch his breath after his stunt inside the war machine. "Just another day for us I guess. Just get finished re-writing reality only to jump back into an assault on our friends. I'm just glad we got here in time to help."

"Thanks to us, not as bad as they could have been. Thanks to me specifically, Wamblee made it." Abnaki ignores the crack about godhood, or at least seems to. [b]"Ky-La is dead and dusted, most likely for good this time, and Samen got some new spectacles out of it. Gabe's a human now, whatever that means, we unmade another of Moon's great servitors, and the Sun-Lord that lives in the kettle learned a little humility. So what's new with you?"

It takes Wamblee a moment to take in your glib summary of world-changing events. He simply says, "Besides the salamanders, you mean? Well, my son is due to be born in two months. I hope to show him a better world than the one we have at present."

A pause. "What was that about dragons, Samen?"

Qizz loves the crowds and the applause, of course. Kallik stays invisible, blood dripping from her mouth as she bites her tongue to keep from growling. Even invisible and insubstantial, it feels like everyone is looking at her. Damn crowds, even nice ones.

It is nineteenth candle, still Rootsday the 8th.

For all to hear, the Sunlord messages, I grow tired as the light of the land wanes. I require rest soon.

"Ehm, I'll tell you all about it over dinner. The sunlord is right, it's been a long day, and I could use a break."

"I understand. I'm afraid we cannot offer a feast, as most will be tending to the injured, but I will find us food to sustain, and rooms to rest."

**

True to his word, Wamblee finds a quiet room near his own stone-shaped chambers, complete with meat, bread, rocks, and mead.

"So you have changed the world...or was it always this way?" Wamblee scratches at this puckered scars on his face, then deliberately sets his hand down, resisting the urge to touch them again.

Sweet drink is good, and dizzy!

It takes Wamblee a moment to take in your glib summary of world-changing events. He simply says, "Besides the salamanders, you mean? Well, my son is due to be born in two months. I hope to show him a better world than the one we have at present."

"Oh how wonderful! There's a magic I could never hope to achieve." He ponders to himself for a moment. "Or perhaps I could? I have heard stories of gods giving birth to six legged horses... Best not to dwell on it."

Abnaki, one of your worshippers is attempting to memorize your every word for posterity, mumbling to itself incessantly. Several others are preaching to nearby oreads, to the oreads' obvious annoyance.

And why shouldn't they? I am great.

Abnaki, some of the oreads begin laughing hysterically at the mycos antics, and you realize that your followers just may have learned the ability to instill hideous laughter from you.

Gabe grabs some food but seems to withdraw into the fringes between the groups, watching each of them but not participating. He seems particularly interested in what the mycos are doing in their worship of their new god. Spontaneously casting magic now? What strength will they manifest next?

He observes the laughing oreads to see if they show signs of stopping, moving to assist if it doesn't show signs of stopping.

Gabriel, a sour-faced oread warrior (you remember his name is Hakka, the one who challenged Samen and his psychic powers the last time you were here) walks up next to you, also surveying the scene. "You don't trust this magic too, eh? It's too much change, too fast. How can our traditions remain when the stone beneath our feet seems to shift and crumble?"

feel free to finish up conversations and narrate yourselves to sleep. What goes through your mind in this changed world?
**

It is Ashday, Rainrites the 9th.

Wamblee asks one final question of Samen for the night. "Brother, is the return of these drakes a good thing? How can we know the consequences actions so...all-encompassing?"

Replying to Hakka, "No, something odd seems to follow us wherever we go. Somehow, some of us seem to be able to speak things into being... on accident even. These little myconians helped us when we were in a bad place. Just by being there we upended their society and brought them to the surface. Now they are worshiping one of us and gaining powers for doing so? We may be tearing down sources of corruption, but it seems we are flirting with raising another. Will you even know your traditions are changed if your memories of them are lost and replaced with something new? The new thing will be all you have even known of your practices..." Gabe pauses as he can tell he is getting worked up. Taking a breath to calm himself, he continues "You can only do your best with what's in front of you. There's no reason to worry yourself over things you can't change. Keep the traditions you know as best you can. Preserve your culture in the face of change, but do not shackle yourself to the past. An unyielding stone will crumble in the face of an avalanche."

Hakka frowns, but it is an expression of thought, bot disapproval. "Hmm. Even stone changes in the wind and rain, yeah? Ok, I think I understand." His eyes focus on Abnaki. "I'm not for allowing oreads to worship no new god though." His voice is flat, dangerous.

Samen deflates with a defeated sigh. "I don't know, Wamblee. The drakes are an old thing made new again. For now, they seem to exclusively be guardians of knowledge, much like they were before, so I don't see them becoming a wider threat. But then, I didn't anticipate an army of salamanders on your doorstep."

He pulls him aside, and privately explains the more disturbing truth of the finiteness of divinity. "Every time we change something, or kill something, or restore something, a little bit of divinity dies. Maybe 'dies' isn't the right word. Maybe weakened, or lessened. We're fighting a war we can't win, Wamblee. It's a war the gods cannot win. Whether it be a year, a century, or a dozen millennia, all discernable distinction will be lost. Death will look like life, hot like cold, light like darkness. There's no champion who can save us. Reality is dying."

"The best we can hope for is a temporary stabilization under an acceptable new balance. But the more we change to achieve that balance, the more damage we do."

"They said dies. They said weakens. But they are afeared of us Samen. I do not believe divinity is lost. It merely changes hands. And the Old Gods are jealous, senile, old things that resent the changing of the new order. They resent other divinities other than themselves. The Dead Witch was not always dead, killed by a jealous other. And as moon weakens, I grow in strength. Perhaps not to the same degree, not yet, but I do not see a zenith in sight yet, dear Samen. I think the Gods themselves are afraid of each other, yes, but also afraid of us. Entropy has not won yet."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 22 ⇒ (8) + 22 = 30

"You carry the herald of an older god in your Tea Kettle. Ask it what happened to Sun. Ask where it's power went, if it was lost to the void, or if it became part of something else. And ask it if Sun might live again. I will be something new. You do not have to worship me, but you will learn to recognize me."

Samen pinches his nose where his new glasses rest. It's been a long day, and Abnaki's sanity has deteriorated observably.

"Abnaki, I do recognize you, more than you think. You are no doubt growing in power, and your question of the sunlord is reasonable, but there is something I would like you to consider. You were once an elen like any other. But you took power from the dead hands of the declarative. You took power from the dead heart of the fey in Hearth. You bargained away the part of your soul that remembers your love for power from Dream."

"Fey, Declaration, and Dreams. At the price of your own essence, you melted down and merged those divine essences. You became the Storyteller. Truly, you're a more accomplished warlock than I ever was. Two dead aspects and strength taken from another to create one. Someday someone may kill you for a scrap of your power, but the point is, there's always a reduction. Eventually, there will be nothing left."

"But I want you to consider something further, Storyteller. Do some introspection. What is your metanarrative? You write the story of your life in real time, but consider where your narrative arc is leading. You've sacrificed yourself to become this, and now you claim divinity and worship as your birthright. In any story, this arc leads to either great hubris, proceeding to a great downfall, corruption unto becoming a worse villain than any you've defeated, or the character growth and wisdom that comes from humbling yourself. Which is your arc?"

Samen tenses up as he asks this, ready for conflict should things go poorly.

"We have been humbled Samen." Abnaki says quietly. "We have died. I have suffered ego death. Abnaki was hubristic to think that he could martial such powers and remain as he was. Abnaki was an optimist, and so am I. I genuinely don't believe that entropy is the nature of divinity. I genuinely believe that we can lead our people through this time into a better one. And I genuinely believe that most of the current gods would stand in our way to preserve their own place in this world. To be divine is to have the power of creation. We can make this world a better place. But don't follow my path Samen." Abnaki looks very sad, "We must all stand tall in different ways to play our parts in the days to come. Mine is to be a cement pillar, a foundation that all can rest on, made of the ground remains of limestone and clay. I am the pillar, but I am also the clay. The Declarative was Limestone. I am an aggregate. Be yourself Samen. If I am to be a foundation that new buildings is to be placed upon, they will need a master architect." He sighs deeply. "I must be glib. I must be larger than life. I must be Divine. It's tiring Samen, for I am burning the candle that was Abnaki at both ends. Don't be fooled by the smiles and jokes." He pats his friend on the shoulder, and straightens his back, loudly proclaiming, "Even a God must need rest sometimes! Do you think Volcano ever tires in protecting this land from the Dark?"

He basks in pewling groveling of His followers. He breathes deep of the sacrifices made in His name. All He must do is burn and glow, and spur others to let blood in His name. He would do it for the rest of time, if we allowed Him to do so.

**
officially next morning

A humbled Sunlord intones, Now is the morning to be your best self.

Samen stretches and welcomes the dawning of a new day. "Good morning, Opræterius. A new day is always good for the soul."

He goes to join the others, content that for once, there isn't an immediate crisis keeping him from his coffee.

"Cookies?"

"Yes Qzz. We'll see if we can find you any cookies," Abnaki says, ruffling the little Mycos's head.

A plate of cookies rises up from the stone table, created by Abnaki's incidental suggestion. Qizz is delighted, and deposits their face directly on top of the cookies, growing additional mouths to taste with.

The ghost of a smile touches the phantom's lips. To be so content in the moment. To be able to taste again.

"Good bright, everyone." Wamblee joins you when you've had a chance to enjoy cookies, coffee, and more traditional breakfast foods. He leaves his honorguard by the entrance to your stoneshaped chambers.

After receiving good mornings in turn and a bit of small talk, Wamblee clears his throat. "I happen to be in negotiations with some of the more...sensitive members of the Eastern Tribe these past few days, and...I cannot phrase this delicately, but the idea of mushroom-shaped elens proclaiming that a new living god walks among us would destroy the bridge I am attempting to build between our peoples. The more united the Tribes are, the stronger we stand against Moon and all this chaos."

He looks to Abnaki, then Samen and Gabe, while Qizz is still noisily consuming cookies.

"What do you suggest then?" Abnaki asks, unconcerned. "Go ahead, I value your opinion highly Wamblee. I could have a talk with them, but I suspect that although it would be productive, the ramifications would be far more widespread and destructive than them simply learning of us. I don't want to be a bother to you." Abnaki has seemingly already forgotten that he saved Wamblee's life just last night.

I of course value everything you have done for us. Everything you have done for me. However, your presences are...disruptive by their very nature. I want to honor your sacrifices and your achievements, but I am also wondering where you are going next." A pause. "I could consult Obdurate if you are looking for a direction."

Samen nods. "That would be wise. However, I'm expecting our next destination needs to be Light. We dealt Moon an unexpected blow and we need to see the extent of it. It's possible the Sylphs have been freed and are in need of direction."

He grunts, characteristic of his former self. "And it's also possible they're all dead."

"Regardless, we need to know, and we can be faster than any scout."

"Glowing cookies (there)?"

anything you can think of that you would want to buy (potions etc), anyone you would want to visit or inquire about, or anything you would want to do while Wamblee consults Obdurate about any potential dangers of the journey?

let me know if you wished to do any errands etc, otherwise Wamblee comes back several candles later.

It is seventeenth candle.

After a long session with Obdurate, Wamblee comes back with a grim look on his face. "The journey to Light will be difficult, my friends. The areas surrounding the city have been draped with Breathless Valley material, which would ensnare any attempts at teleportation. At best, you could get transport yourselves outside these barriers, but the problem remains of how to get through."

"Obdurate says that Dreams could provide a route through these places of death and suffocation, but only a lost friend could help you find your way."

"I really should check in with Ozna sometime," Abnaki muses, "It's been far too long."

Kallik wonders how much dream-stuff a phantom is made of. Will it be like throwing a chunk of ice into a raging river, slowly melting into the current?

Ignoring such thoughts, she gives a smile to Qizz as they caper about and blurble about cookie-dreams and bird-dreams.

Family good. Hi to magician grandpa before we (go). Kallik mad, but Kallik secretly (wants to go) too.

But magician grandpa (is hurt). (Sleeping, healing). Brave at big fight, (saved) many young ones. No (say) goodbye, but we (hear) it anyway. We (feel) love and (give) love, and we (cry). Kallik mad, but Kallik secretly sad. (Want to hug) Kallik, but best (is shift) around her space. (Hope) she (feels) love too.

(Leave) sad. Cookies don't (taste) as good now, but (need) something good to (make) bad away.

when y'all are ready to teleport close to Light and take on the Breathless Valley, I believe Cedar Smoke would be the closest place Samen is familiar with. (two days on foot to Light, less if you have other means of transportation)

Gabriel allows the others to bask in friendship and family without getting in the way. Besides Wamblee, these oreads are acquaintances at best. He spends the time contemplating their next destination. What new horrors await us at Light? And what risks are there for shifting truth...

Gabriel, Hakka seeks you out one last time. "Here. From one who worries about change just as much as you do." His dark, grim face gives a sardonic smile for just a moment. He hands you a stone, and walks away.

A worry stone, highly polished, with a small indentation in the middle. It's meant to rub away anxiety and worries by moving your thumb over the indentation until feelings improve. This one is dark onyx.

I'm ready for Samen to roll for a teleport to Cedar Smoke tribe if everyone else is! This would count as "studied carefully".

Alright then, let's be off!

Teleport(1-94 good): 1d100 ⇒ 32

In the village
Gabe takes the stone in hand, rubbing his thumb over the stone's smooth surface before looking to Hakka with a genuine smile. Thank you Hakka, a small but heartfelt token. I'm sure it will come in handy.
He slips the stone into a pouch for easy access in case the worry becomes to great.

Samen's powerful thoughts propel you all through void and color; as your eyes clear, you are in the middle of tall grasses amidst crude stone dwellings. The mostly abandoned tribal area does not surprise you - Cedar Smoke was never a powerful Tribe, and after Samen's father abdicated the chieftain's seat, it never recovered. Most oreads likely migrated to other Tribes, or joined with the ever-growing Tribe of Peace.

The true shock is the surreal, purplish glow on the near horizon - a Breathless Valley stretched vertically to completely block the way south. The light is irritating, causing your eyes to water if gazed at too long.

You hear rustling in the bushes, though whether animal or elen is unclear.

"Tribe? Where people? Where smoke?"

"Gone. Dead, or moved on. I should go back home to Rokerenge some day, I'm sure it's in a similarly abandoned state."

He investigates the Breathless zone, hoping for some clue of its origins or a solution to its impenetrability.

Casting Heightened Awareness for +2
Knowledge Planes: 1d20 + 24 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 24 + 2 = 31
Knowledge Planes: 1d20 + 24 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 24 + 2 = 30

Though you can tell much about the energies of Anti-air, Void, and Death that make up the Valley, a solution to the problem eludes you for now. The sheer size makes it difficult to tell (like a mountain), but you are fairly certain you are still a day's journey or so from the barrier-- it may be easier to test and assess if you are closer.