I will check in around New Years :)
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Captain Dove sits alone in his high office, a chessboard before him. The hour is late. Neither color is in front of him: the crows are to the left, and pigeons to the right. For many years he has amused himself by practicing the strange art of playing two different games, each 'unaware' of the other. He strives to bend his mind in new ways, and see what pathways follow. Now he is always playing two different games. Always. Meditations, medications, and other such ministrations; he has tried them all. But he has never been so physical, so literal, in his use of the word mind-altering. With numbing agents, an excellent set of mirrors, and a state-of-the-art alchemical laser, Dove Garden has severed his mind in two, straight down the middle. Two minds to battle a Tallmind. Maybe they'll name the neural region Dove's Canyon, in honor of him. Dove will not see the world of elens end. Humans and their hideous mind magic will not be the end of free will. He will find the tools to fight back. He swears it only to himself, for he is the only person he believes in.
Thanks again for your patience. I wouldn't leave y'all hanging. It's been uh, three weeks? of teaching, piano lessons, and all the assorted stuff that comes with life with kiddos. I've been pouring my heart into the D&D Club that I host on Thursdays, where I DM for ~7 students. I went with Russian Gothic Horror as our theme. This campaign is important too, but urgent things came first, and wow what a month. Anyway, I will try my best to finish tonight.
Not quite done. Plan on finishing tomorrow.
Learningto (smiles). To (see) a young one (grow) in power and wisdom...wonderful Qizzlvutz. Learningto's heart (smiles).
Samen, Wamblee heals from his injuries after a few days' rest. You see the lingering shadows behind his eyes, however, and you know the death of Obdurate will weigh heavily upon him for a time. The grief of over a friend's death, and the sudden loss of his reassuring powers of clairvoyance, has left Wamblee with troubled lines upon his brow that were not there just a few weeks ago. He speaks optimistically to you of troop movements and logistics, now that the planar paths are open for the northern oread tribes to march with the paladins of Hearth. The unspoken words in his silences contain all his worries for his wife, and his unborn child.
...
Humans continue to pop up in unexpected places - the Confessional Arches buckle and melt as the ancient Temple metals they were constructed from lose their potency. The Arches go dark, in time with Volcano's own diminution. Hundreds of preserved human bodies pour forth from the remains of the Arches. They slowly wake up, but without more Tallminds, they remain empty and aloof, like gloves with no hands to fill them. ___ When the Silent Sing... The Temple Courtyards are now a sprawling place of sunlight, birdsong, and fountains. The hole in the Dark has widened, and Sunlight floods a large swath of the central city for several hours, most days. All of the old brutal architecture surrounding the Great Temple has been torn down, replaced with gentler paths, generous magical fountains, and trees for the birds to perch upon. The birds. They never cease to amaze visitors, even those that come every day. After a lifetime and cawing monochrome crows and screeching dirty gulls, the songbirds that populate the gardens are nothing short of miracles. They are more like delicate singing flowers that happen to be bord-shaped; they share nothing in common with filthy gutter-pigeons and vicious carrion vultures. Who would have ever thought birds could be beautiful? Elens weep in the gardens, listening to the perfect singsong nonsense that these flittering gems of red, blue, and orange, chirrup back and forth. Once a place that denied the rights common to all elens in the name of brutal control and holy loyalty, now Hearth is blooming into something new. Nothing quite says hope, nothing quite inspires dreams of next spring's beauty... nothing heals the soul like Birdsong.
... The Black and Red burn, side by side... Despite having lost its patron god --for now all three aspects of Volcano are disgraced, and the physical manifestation of Volcano weakens daily--Hearth is a city full of hope. Oreads tend to the newest Elder, which continues to thrive in the heart of the city. Ifrits now preach openly of the acceptance of the phoenix, while sylphs debate on street corners about the meaning of the visions the Dream Crow has been sending them. Gone is the dominance of Volcano; now reigns the age of Elens. (and Humans?) The only sour note is the lack of news from the south. No one has seen River travelers in months. It has been reported by many different sources that Moon has some strange power over water in particular, and many fear that Moon has overtaken the undine fortress known as the IceFall.
... A surprised Abnaki Once-Dreamt lands naked on a gray, pocked landscape. The fallen dream king chokes upon chalky dust. Above the fallen him, the bone-white visage of Moon stares. And stares. Soon, Abnaki is ground into nothing. All minds under Moon become the same happy, tepid porridge eventually. Moon enjoys this small feast; this little storyteller's imagination just may be the key to the Stars...
Once again, appreciate the patience. I believe I'll be posting the finishing touches tonight.
I'm fine with you switching to druid. I think that Qizz relationship with Kallik will depend on what comes after (if/when we pick the campaign up again) I think it all fits narratively if Kallik "dies" with Krz, and you would both return to Heap. I think that as we finish this chapter, Qizz returning to Heap basically as a master of death rather than an apprentice of Learningto, you could find a way to 'become' a druid (so for now, you can hint at some changes) I really want you to make the decision on what happens to Kallik :) But those are my thoughts.
I appreciate your patience, everyone. The side job is rolling on nicely now, and I'm starting what feels like a successful week with teaching, as well. I'm still 100% sure that putting this campaign on hold is the right decision. ---> Write yourself one final scene (or pass it back to me, if anyone isn't sure what to write) ----> I'll write a final post(s) over the weekend. -----> I won't the the campaign inactive yet; I want to check in right around New Year's and see how we are all doing.
Aisling takes a different path. A path through dreams. A wandering path, a trail that takes weeks to pass through. But Aisling emerges at the same time as the others. There is a gleam in his eye: the bright-eyed belief of a prophet gone slightly mad.
The psychic among you teleport with hardly a complaint at all; perhaps a falling sensation in the stomach, but it passes after a moment. Back in Hearth, to continue the fight against Moon... Benedetto's words make Wamblee sit up from his prone position. He reaches into a pouch, pulls out a small geode, quickly crushes it into powder, and utters a prayer. A small green flash from the waters below is the only hint you receive of his actions, then you two are also pulled back to the capital city of Hearth... Kallik and Qizz wrap their love around Krz, who weeps as they disappear from this plane. They slip down through the ground as naturally as breathing; the ethereal trio follow Learningto down to Heap. Down, down, down...
Let's say that Abnaki was more a a "cuckoo" hiding in the nest rather than an actual Dream Crow. I think Aisling said the perfect thing at the perfect time.
I cherish the moments where I am truly surprised as a DM. Summoning the Dream Crow instead of Abnaki, especially since the PCs were so careful not to name him...I'm very happy you made the story your own.
The illusory orchestra is cut off, and the Storyteller of the Fey pops out of existence just as quickly as he appeared. The spurning of his name, the choosing of the Dream Crow, and the naming of his lost love banish the demigod before he can so much as sneeze. ... But still, a horrible psychic backwash is coming, even that single syllable enough to strip the bark from the walls and ceiling.
React as you will. All of you are witnessing this, and I will let you know when we reach the end of posting.
*** A heavenly orchestra plays, seemingly from nowhere, and a long-faced oread with a fey grin is suddenly descending the upper stairs. "This is precisely as boring as a game of eite. Let's sweep the pieces, and as he says this, he flicks his wrist, and the monks and oathbreakers tumble into the bog down below, "and try something else."
I think a little of both :) Thanks for the patience, everyone. Here we go!
Thanks for all the kind replies. I'm still planning on checking in come mid-December or so. Look for some posts in the next few days and over the weekend :)
Companions, I know my posting rate has slowed lately. To help pay bills (teacher salaries are not the greatest, and everything is expensive these days), I've also taken up an online tutoring gig. I know that once I get busy in a few weeks, I won't have time/energy for online PbP. 1) I'd like to take the next few weeks to get the story to a cool pausing/stopping point. I don't want to abruptly drop the story, especially since I have some bandwidth before school starts. 2) I'd love to check in with everyone around holiday break of December 2025/Jan 2026. I'll have a definite answer on how I'm feeling with my two jobs. You have all been an outstanding bunch of players :) I just know I can't keep this up, and I don't want the game to just ran out of steam and die. Thank you all for being a part of this story :)
Just used up for the day.
Take actions if you have not done so. We're a bit more free-form right now.
Kallik: Despite being a phantom, it is hard for you to breathe as the creature grips you with hard wooden fingers beneath its muck. The booming voice throws accusations at you, like a hurt child might. Link to the last time you spoke to Krz, before the Unwritten Library was altered
The bog-creature's angry shout shakes the very walls and ceiling, causing more half-made oathbreakers to spill out of their rootbeds. (map updated, they are slowly standing up) Benedetto runs towards the tentacles, but they are dismissed at the last moment. One psychic tendril brushes your face before it disappears, and you vividly remember a humiliating experience from your first day of grammar school. You shake your head, the memory vanishes, and you run down the stairs. Kallik is looking transfixed by the bog monster. Incredibly, tears are running down her ghostly cheeks.
Kallik, as you walk closer to the stairs, you are propelled in your ghostly form past the tentacles to confront the weeping green mass directly. You feel like a wooden toy being gripped by a wrathful child. A keening sound, some awful blend of crying and screaming, tears the very air. The bog below you begins to boil, hot gas steaming, each bubble like a burst blister.
Samen holds his brother tightly, relieved that worked. "Come on Wamblee, I know you're weak, but we need information! What is Obdurate doing, and why? Stof and Abby are both dead in quick succession, and I refuse to accept Obdurate's presence as a coincidence. What is going on?" Wamblee sputters, coughing a thin mist of blood. "Obdurate was...watching...for the right moment to come through." You recall that clearing this forsaken planar rift was going to allow the oread armies to join the war march upon Light. "I thought I heard Abby's laughter just as we went through...I think Obdurate's sight was damaged his sibling's deaths..." Gripping your hand tightly, forcing out a few more words, Wamblee says, "Do not let Kallik go down..."
The monks, even those who have not been drained, shake their heads exhausted and defeated.. "Nothing prepared us....that screaming thing down there is like a banshee...nothing but pain..." Supernatural despair grips the monks; you can feel hints of it in the air, but the muddied oreads seem to be drowning in it. They stare ahead, catatonic.
Posting today - unexpectedly busy summer.
Samen, your brother weeps weakly in your arms. "Obdurate, no..."
such a lush, smelly bog, on a plane of metaphor and dream...a myconian paradise... The stone husk crumbles as Wamblee escapes, and the huge thing tumbles back into the bog with huge splashes and a noxious smell. A few moments pass, and the surface settles once more, as if all the commotion had never been. Aisling notices the disturbance first. Though this new presence is only beginning to coalesce, it feels every bit as strong as the bird-song mote nestled in his hair. ...
With an unsettling feeling, you are certain the heart you are looking for--the weeping, seething heart of earth on this broken plane--is somewhere within the awakening swamp below.
That was a classic "D&D crazy" kind of stunt to pull, Samen. Hats off to you.
Benedetto slays the last oathbreaker as it tries rabidly to escape (deleted) Gabe stands ready. The situation seems in hand for the moment, so he waits for some dumb bullsh- Samen jumps like a completely insane person,
and teleports away with Wamblee, landing neatly at Gabe's feet...after falling another several inches to the ground with a loud thud.
Wamblee has gotten the wind knocked out of him from the spell and the fall, but he is clearly alive and breathing.
D) All of the Above :) Aisling, my first thought for this new ability would be large, ethereal black wings, kind of an echo of your raven form. I leave the exact details up to you, of course.
Samen, your sunbeam connects, hitting the creature solidly in the chest. As the sheer force of the beam chips away layers of stone, you see a face, an oread's face, shouting from inside creature's torso. Samen, your heart lurches as you recognize the oread trapped within the boulder giant, having his strength drained-- your brother Wamblee.
Kallik climbs the wooden walls, hesitant at first. The roots and branches provide ample handholds, so Kallik gains confidence and approaches the top. With a savage backhand swipe of her axe, she severs all the roots holding Qizzlvutz. The griffon dives and catchs Qizz, who blows bubbles of fright and joy at the same time.
Aisling, as you take a few steps forward, you realize your desperate plea to the goddess has cost you more than you thought -- you are suddenly tired, as if you been toiling for the whole day. You stop to catch your breath before you pass out.
I'm fine with the griffin attacking the roots "this" turn :)
A creature made of living stone and boulder slowly emerges from the bog below. At first, its ponderous progress hides its bulk, but it becomes apparent that this latest enemy is at least the size of a giant. (added big grey boulder at bottom of stairs)
Aisling, at first, nothing but a quiet stillness meets you words. Then, a small chirping sound, rhythmic and sweet. Louder now, like a bard ready to rouse sleepy tavern goers to one last dance. Finally, a sudden burst of SOUND that you feel in your chest- the fire flask shoots out of your hands, shattering open, mixing with this divine sound flowing through the air, and a storm of glass, fire, and holy energy slams into the far oathbreakers. (two more triangles deleted)
Sensing something is amiss with the drained monks, the uninjured oreads separate their brethren and try to make them comfortable on the floor. They also gently move them away from the 'black tentacle' area as Benedetto takes up his defensive position.
Benedetto, one of the oathbreakers tries to flee the tentacles, but your preparation pays off. Your vengeful flaming sword turns half the thing to ash by the time your swing is complete. (deleted) Gabriel, you pummel the thing to pieces, and for a moment your mystical fists take on another property: they glow with yellow sunlight. You feel a nearly painful heat in your knuckles as you set flame to the monstrous oathbreaker with the speed and power of your punches. (deleted!) Qizzvutz, your try to steer the griffon away from the grasping roots,
but you are unused to piloting this animal, and you come too close to the roots. The griffon drops away to avoid being captured, but Qizzlvutz is stuck fast. You wonder if you will become food for new oathbreakers.
The drained monks huddle in groups, trying feebly to stay away from danger.
Captain Yesterday, Captain, Esq has not participated in any online campaigns. |