downrightamazed's page

Also also; I just spun up an official wiki for this erstwhile campaign setting, and all the games in it. I'll add as I'm able, feel free to contribute things in the meantime.

Kudos to Dave for the suggestion.

Pechora is a town about a week southwest of Inta. It was the Baron had a sanctum of sorts, and had the whole populace Enthralled. It is where Kelne, Justahl, and the others finally destroyed him. Unrelatedly, it is also where Nurianna dropped off that big book for Professor Vask.

Was the rest of the building in this sort of disrepair/dustiness? Was Inta within the Baron's ruling area?

The answers are "no" and "sort of". Inta is an active outpost, so there are no signs of neglect/dustiness except here in the Baron's quarters and other places where only he was allowed to go. Inta was not within the Baron's territory of Ormiria, but he was known to have other outposts that he ran and/or ruled here and there on the map, most in the northern latitudes. Pechora and Inta both fall under this category.

Is this also a known place that the Baron had lodgings? Or is it surprising to be in Inta? Was there any sign of heraldry? There's Stol - were there many other servants or soldiers visible? Or signs of the passage of servants/people/soldiers (i.e., footprints in the snow, sounds in the hall, etc.)

Tanith and Baron:

As for the Baron's residence, Dave is pretty spot-on in comparing it to a manse, only it'd be bigger and have more secret passages and guest rooms; the Baron would want guests under his thumb and watchful eyes. So if you could imagine a somewhat shrunk-down version of the Great Northern in Twin Peaks, that's really close to what it's like.

You better. Tanith del Covas does not like to be kept waiting.

Shameless plug; if any of you are into euro-style metal music, my metal band, Magma Dragon, has just released another new song; "Chaotic Evil Outsider".

I wanted to make sure I pointed out how great the standoff was, because I see from the OOC here that there was some frustration, but to me, as an objective set of eyes coming in after the fact, you need to know that it reads really well, and is a real nail-biter.

If there's one thing I've learned, it's to never underestimate my players' abilities to "get abusive" with basically anything.

Ancient Sensei needs no puny white house writers! He is possessed of a +5 sigil of loquaciousness. It's pretty rad.

WHY WERE COOKIES NOT PART OF PLAN A?!

FYI, @Jorzan: the Mothermind will not fit in your handy haversack.

@Min: The voirkyth begins to spin, picking up tremendous speed. The doctor has you switch seats with him and look into the spinning device. He stands back out of the way.

The spinning becomes so fast that the thing is just a blur, and the hypnotic sound it makes causes you to enter a relaxed trance state. The borders of third-dimensional perception fall away and you enter the everywhen, becoming a fourth-dimensional percipient as you do. Humanoid senses are not made for the everywhen, though, and the strain on your mind is tremendous. Multiple events that happened across all times are visible to you as a simultaneity. You witness time as its architects -- the mighty time elementals and gravity elementals, and the Unseen God, Chronos -- are able, and marvel at its design and superstructure, at the arches and plinths, the supports and filigrees, the warp and woof of the fabric covering it all, the fabric that is life. It is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen in your life.

Woven into this covering fabric is a distinct strain of bloody heroics. You are brought in to focus on it, bypassing other threads that tantalize you with their familiarity (was that...your thread?) or entice you with their importance. Zeroing in, you see that this belongs to Tanner Stormblade, dashing captain of the Lionhearts. It is an incredible act of will for you to get any one part of the everywhen to come into focus in your insufficient humanoid senses, but you make out a stream of images...

a 700-foot-tall burning humanoid is striding across the land, it must reach it target, it must protect them at all costs, but they are already dead, another one, the intricate tattoo no longer glowing, standing over them are the men in orange, again, they defy it, they rally, they fight

a pack of hounds of tindalos are hunting, they must find their target, they must protect them at all costs, but they are already dead, another one, the intricate tattoo no longer glowing, standiing over them are the men in orange, again, they defy the hounds, they rally, they fight

another one murdered and the star sailors have had enough, they call forth the leng spiders, who track them down, this time the one they murder is a set-up, and has no tattoo, and the star sailors send forth their greatest Deceptor, they send forth beautiful Perioolanar, its crimson garments fluttering as it whispers in the ear of asmodeus, as it whispers in the ear of sarenrae, as it whispers to all the gods, and as the men in orange are cursed, their leader is cast out, the mark of the gods upon him, and the star sailors freeze the world and he will walk forever and no one else will know

You suddenly pull out of the Everywhen, gasping for breath. The doctor is there, administering a potion to you as the voirkyth spins down. "So you see, Min, it is much worse than you thought. There is an infernal contract, this is true, but the Lionhearts have made the worst enemies they possibly could." You can barely move, you are so exhausted. Doctor Schrebel looks earnestly into your eyes. "They crossed the Telestari. And no one crosses the Telestari."

Min, add five years to your age.

...so Mettalum Aeterum were used to make the abominations...they help seal them....what happens if you attack an abomination with a weapon of said material....

Great question. Dare ya to try it.

The hapless guards look from Kelne to Hurin and then to each other. They shrug and one of them says. "Uh, I don't see anything here. I guess we'll just keep playing cards! No disturbances out here..." He offers a hopeful grin. Both put down their spears.

You can use Geography, but P(Cartographer) would be better. Here's the way I handle it:

• Knowledge Checks are much broader and more useful in more situations, but have higher DCs whenever something really specific, or rare, or related to a profession is involved.
  
• Profession Checks have a much narrower focus, but when it's a toss-up between a K check and P check, the P check will have a much lower DC.
  

So yeah; P checks aren't useful as often as K checks, but when they are, they're MUCH more useful.

Ahahahahaaa

I am enjoying this conversation immensely.

*taps microphone* Is this thing on?

Delaware, are you still there, is this thing on?

@Belsarious: " "Ah, my apologies good sir. I am called Fastolph. As for the geckos, you will know their placement when you see the arrangement of the trees around the Sunderer in the fountain at the center of the city. I can give you no more information than that, I fear, as the arrangement of the trees will undoubtedly have changed since last I was there."

@Belsarious: "The geckos? Yes, the geckos. They must go back to Mamban, to the Fountain of The Sunderer, and they must be placed in the trees around the fountain in the correct order."

@Belsarious: The halfling answers without hesitation; "The four pillars are places, fixed both in space AND time. We know of two of them; the Uniter's Tower, not far south of here, is one of them. There is a stone structure on the borders of the southern Forgelands and the Land of Broken Roads. We know the other two must be in the north, but have not found them yet. Find them, and you find the key to unlocking the everywhen, and possibly the secrets of dwarf doors such as those Beltz Wellrock made back in his day."

@Belsarious: "The what?! I don't...I mean, how do you know about these things? That is confi-"

The halfling suddenly stops speaking and blinks. Before your eyes, he ages several decades, gaining liver spots and wrinkles and losing nearly all his hair. The transformation is near-instantaneous and as soon as it's done he points at you, recognition clear in his eyes. "Belsarious! Did you get the Geckos I sent? Remember, you have to return them in the correct order, just like we discussed!"

@Min: Sophitia's eyes get big. "Oh but of course you could say 'no', I just...I..." she looks down. "...I so hope you won't." She thinks for a moment. "If...if you don't mind my asking, Lord Min, who are the "Skyknights", and why exactly are you bound to Izmir?"

"Oh, Alexius, you just made your LAST mistake! You think I don't know of Verik's physical weakness? His self-doubt? His questioning? You think I don't know where things stand? You think -- you HONESTLY think -- you can come down here, to my shack, where I keep Currency that will gain me passage to the very vaults of GOD himSELF and tell me things I already know and make me turn against a cousin I just bared my soul before? You THINK I DON'T KNOW about the risks I'm taking?" Golden fire is starting to flicker and whip around the tiny cabin in the woods, like wills-o-the-wisp gathering to Taisper. "And worst of ALL, you THINK you can prey on MY TRUST and the HUNTERS' BOND we had to bend me to...to WHAT? TO WHAT PLAN DO YOU HAVE?! YOU'RE JUST LIKE MY TEACHERS, THRUNE! 'LET'S GET THE CRAZY KID TO DO IT! HE'LL DO WHATEVER!'"The halo of light around the inquisitor is so bright now it almost penetrates the fog. Almost. "Well I've learned, Thrune! The mistakes I've made have cost me enough! I've chosen my road, my faith is pure, I am CHOSEN! YOU are a FOLLOWER! YOU are NOTHING! YOU HIDE IN YOUR MISTS BUT THE FIRE OF MY FAITH WILL FIND YOU, OUTSIDER! JUDGED! DOOMED! I NAME YOU CURSED AND I NAME YOU ENEMY AND YOU CAN BURN IN HELL YOU SON OF A B%#@#! BURN! BURRRRRN!" As Taisper's clear, ringing voice rises to a feverish pitch of righteous fury, the flickers of gold flame gather and circle in the mist, the magic of the Lawgiver easily finding Alexius hiding in his magical fog and smashing into his armor, heating it. As the thunderous threats of the inquisitor shake the hellknight to his core, the fires leap into his armor and light the very flesh and hair and clothes of the man on fire, burning him alive inside his ornate plate mail.

Alexius now knows the fury of the Lawgiver, painfully, and first hand.

Round 3, Initiative 12
HP: 30/30 AC: 24 Saves: F/R/W - 6/3/10
Buffs: Judgment Surge(Judgment/Resistance(ER5(electricity)) and Judgment/Protection(+3 AC)), Favored Judgment(all Judgments +1 vs. Humanoids/Humans), Bane (Humanoids/Humans)
Swift: Change Purity to Resistance
MA: Interpose myself between Alexius' last position and Verik's current position
SA: cast Blistering Invective
DC15 Intimidate: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (5) + 13 = 18
Alexius DC15 Reflex: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Damage: 1d10 + 1d6 ⇒ (2) + (6) = 8, plus Alexius is now on fire.

As far as I can tell from the "Catching on Fire" rules, Alexius takes fire damage immediately, and then another 1d6 every round he remains on fire:

If a character's clothes or hair catch fire, he takes 1d6 points of damage immediately. In each subsequent round, the burning character must make another Reflex saving throw. Failure means he takes another 1d6 points of damage that round. Success means that the fire has gone out—that is, once he succeeds on his saving throw, he's no longer on fire.

@Justahl: Finding Cassandra takes a little bit of looking around, but eventually you spot the young cloud dragon that Captain Lamorak's squire rides seated outside the garrison just off the quad. Following a hunch, you go inside and find the little seer probably about as safe as she can be for the moment, surrounded by fellow paladine and massive Warbanian mercs in the pay of the city of Stormfare. Kevin and Brook are in there as well, and while both boys seem wary, it's clear they're both also more than a little awed by all the muscle and steel around them.

Two of the huge Warbanians are seated on the floor while Cassandra is having a pretend tea party, serving the men from invisible pots, pouring invisible tea into invisible cup. The visual of the massive warriors lifting pretend cups of tea to their mouths -- pinkies out and everything -- at the insistence of a little girl, is priceless. It's easily the happiest you've Cassandra since you met her, just being a kid, playing at pretend.

The Day Sergeant notices you and nods a greeting. "Justahl! How may we help you, sir?"

Taisper leads Verik back through giant sheets of hanging spanish moss, around massive tree trunks and over rock stepping-ways that cross wide ponds. It is a route that requires a bit of dexterity and plenty of concentration, so conversation is nonexistent most of the way.

After an hour's walk, a small but well-built shack seems to sort of appear out of the vegetation. Built into the side of a hillock ("It was a barrow", explains Taisper, "I moved the former occupants, with appropriate blessings from the Master, of course."), the deceptively shoddy-looking little structure is clearly uninhabited. Taisper holds his hand up, stopping his cousin. "Wait here a moment." Verik is then able to watch as the inquisitor carefully disarms a series of at least a half-dozen traps of various types; a trap door, three trip wires, etc. The whole setup is eerily reminiscent of Orlivanch's cabin. Verik can't help but wonder if the similarity is lost on his oblivious cousin.

Once he's happy that it's safe, Taisper motions for Verik to follow him in. The cabin has only two rooms; first there is a small room containing only a simple writing desk, a chair, and a musty camp bed that looks surprisingly well-used. The second room, built in what must have been the main chamber of the barrow, is behind another trapped door. It is into this room that Taisper leads Verik.

The air in this room is very close, and smells of sweat and blood and moss and rot. The scent is alarmingly reminiscent of Orlivanch's basement; the smell of madness. Verik takes stock of all the things he sees, his keen eyes and mind cataloging the items almost against his will. A great deal of money must have been spent to obtain all this, and suddenly his cousin's coy false entries in the city's accounting logs make a terrible kind of sense.

There is a shelf with many empty phylacteries on it, and one with many full phylacteries. There is an unmarked barrel. There is a very solid desk, not unlike a banker's desk, and a comfortable-looking chair. There are candles and torches. There are strange alchemical liquids and compounds, needles, thread, wire, pliers and knives...there are surgical instruments. There are empty boxes, caltrops, daggers with no handles, an axe, a crossbow, some gems, what looks like a mostly-empty coin purse, writing materials, feathers, books, journals.

The journals are tantalizingly close, each one marked simply with a date range done in his cousin's hand. Judging by the ragged state of the bindings, these journals have seen a great deal of use.

Verik finishes looking around and is startled by Taisper standing right in front of him. There is a trap door in the floor -- Verik sees more traps -- and his cousin is holding a good-sized box, a chest, really, like one would use to store very valuable treasure.

"It took me a long time, but I put some things together, Verik. I understand some things I had never understood before. Today's events, your troubles. I get it now." Taisper's eyes are shiny, but not in the healthy, glow-y way they get when he does magic or prays to Abadar; this is the shine of high fever or crazed zealotry. He sets the solid treasure chest on the desk with a resounding *THUMP* and takes a phylactery out of its pouch on his belt -- it is the one he was fiddling with earlier, back in Verik's office. In this phylactery is a key. Taisper breaks the magical seal and takes the key out. He holds it up like a prized possession.

"I wasn't sent here because I was the best man for the job, Verik, and I didn't get graduated early because I did well on the exams. It was all faked. Faked by a church afraid of a higher truth." Taisper is uncomfortably close to Verik at this moment, violating his personal space, which admittedly isn't difficult to do with the cleric from Absalom. "I made my first Judgment when I was fourteen, Verik. I joked as I did it. I joked as I did it like I joked when I killed the Stag Lord's men in front of you, like I did when I executed Kressle's men, like I do every time. I don't feel for them, you see, Verik? I don't feel for humans. I don't feel for anything. They're all the same to me; humans and beasts and elves...all the same. All awaiting Judgment. All just awaiting Judgment."

Taisper lowers the key.

"They weren't worried that I killed so young, they were worried that I didn't care. It was my job and I was proud to have done it well. That's not normal, Verik. That's not healthy. I prayed so much. I worked so hard. But I was neither smart enough nor skilled enough to pass my exams at 19. I was sent out unprepared, Verik, and I was not sent to Absalom, where I could have apprenticed. I was sent straight into the wild. And I think I know why. You already know that I'm an Inquisitor, that much was clear from your letter, and that's fine. What I do as a hunter is not a secret, Verik, but how I do what I do and how much I do it, these are things you shouldn't know. They were right when they told you to cease inquiries. You don't want to ask. But this is a valid church function. It is not what you need to fear."

Taisper puts the key in the lock on the chest.

"I had a dream, Verik. And I was shown meaning, and I was shown truth. I am going to die at the hands of my own church, a disgrace and a heretic. I will bleed to death in an alley, and all my magic and all my hate and all my skill will not be able to save me. I will never see my family again, if I do they will die. 'NEVER AGAIN' is what they told my mother, Verik; 'NEVER AGAIN, THIS IS A UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY BUT YOU MUST LET YOUR SON GO'! That's what they said! But they lied. They told her that not because I was special, but because they were sending me away to die, because they knew then what I am only just now learning..."

Taisper unlocks the chest.

"Verik, cousin, I must weigh the sins of my heresies against the good work I have done to enter Elysium, to be allowed to gaze upon the First Vault. I will not have the Lawgiver find me lacking, Verik. I will not. But I fear I am lying to myself and do not know it. In another dream, Orlivanch was me, and I him, and he my family and therefore I my only family. This cannot come to pass." Verik refrains from commenting that it perhaps already has come to pass, though it is difficult. "And now there is another! The widow Flaxton, Verik, I...I can't think around her, I...she...I think I'm falling in love, or something like it, I don't know. But I can't! 'NO FAMILY' they told me, 'NO FAMILY, FOR YOU ARE A HUNTER NOW AND THEY WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU'. That's why I spoke to you, see? You are family, but you are also a cleric. I can talk to you as a fellow of the faith. Ilyana, she...I...I think I know now that all they told me was lies. They sent me here and isolated me and put me in the woods not to conquer, not to win, but because they know." Taisper's voice is taking on an uncomfortable, keening edge that raises the hackles on the back of Verik's neck. somewhere outside, a raven calls. There is a splashing sound, like footsteps, but nothing comes into view. Taisper is starting to repeat himself now, which is somehow even more alarming; the repetition of an obsessive. "They knew the truth when I was 14, but they knew I could still be useful. I could help them and then be done away with, and for the same reason I can't let myself be with Ilyana or be close with any of you. Verik!" There is a sudden urgency in Taisper's voice. He pauses.

"Verik. I'm crazy."

Taisper opens the chest.

Inside the well-made box are 106 alchemical phylacteries, and in each phylactery is a perfectly preserved eyeball. Some are elven, some human, some halfling, some orc. It is an impressive and alarming variety.

The inquisitor's voice gets very quiet. "Behold, Verik. The price of freedom."

Percy nods. "Mm. I do know what you mean, actually. At least maybe he'll be around more. Eye candy."

There is a distant rumble, seismic and subsonic. Both students have been here long enough to know that unless alarms are sounding, such sounds are safely ignored. If students when rushing after every "boom" that happened in this place, they...well, they wouldn't need gym class, that's for sure.

..."Dance Dance Ovulation"?

Sorry, that's terrible. 8-X

@Tokine: The Imperial dragons glide carefully through the airy halls of your temple, a couple of them making low growling sounds as they pass certain objets d'art and other masterworks which their leader, the dragon with whom you've been speaking, clarifies are "purrs of appreciation."

When you get to the main door, the four dragons gather around and peer suspiciously at the rain. The leader snorts derisively, causing the cowering citizen by Izumi to jump a foot in the air and hide behind her.

"This will not do for our return." He says haughtily. Poking his snout out into the vestibule, he calls up mightily into the sky; "Rensuke! Where are you? Fix this!" There is an unintelligible answering bellow from the sky, then nothing. The dragons are still, waiting. Izumi looks curiously up at the sky while the poor citizen peeks nervously over her shoulder.

Suddenly Izumi gives a small gasp. "Madam Curator! Look!" High, high up in the sky, the clouds are beginning to swirl and twist. The rain slows and the thunder scatters. From the west, near the palace, a mighty roar goes up. Something glimmers on the near horizon, something very very large, and flying.

Meanwhile, right above the city, the clouds continue to get spun and swirled around. At first they remain dense, impenetrable, and are simply re-shaped. Then they scatter a bit, the wind dies down, the rain lightens further. The clouds break, then, and sun dogs are visible shining down through gaps in the cloud cover. Long, elegant silhouettes become visible, circling and gliding and dancing in the sky, arcs of divine energy trailing in their wake. Another roar goes up from the west, and four shimmering draconic forms blast up into the sky and hang there, flapping their wings gently as they wait for the form on the horizon to join them.

In the minutes of their approach, the rain stops.

Some clouds remain, but the sun is shining clear, illuminating the mists and causing the cobbled streets to gleam and shine with glorious silvery light, much like the scales of the Sky dragons above who have used their weather magic to dismiss the soaking rains, and much like the scales of the western dragons approaching from the palace; you recognize them now as the dragons that came with the third deputation; the zealots and holy warriors of Lesotho and Izmir. Three silver dragons and a copper, they are powerful-looking but clumsy compared to the serpentine grace of the Imperial dragons. The lead two bear riders.

As they approach, the final dragon comes soaring in from the west, and this one is as large as an entire wing of the palace, and gleaming purest gold, like autumn sun.

The sky dragons remain above, twisting and cavorting on the zephyrs and breezes of the upper altitudes, but the imperial dragons tarry a moment longer, waiting to see what the newcomers seek. The silver and copper dragons from the palace pull up and land in the streets, their large frames barely fitting in the boulevards of this district. The lead rider gets down and strides over to you, the second rider close behind.

"With hair like the river and beauty divine, with a coterie of Great Ones around you, in the vestibule of a glorious temple to the Lady of Beauty, and Art, and Love, you must be Curator Tokine Nagano. It is a pleasure. I am General Illuminata Vittoria, of Lesotho, and this is my second, Captain Lilitine Citanu." Both bow deeply. The general is a slim but strong-looking woman, perhaps 5'9", with obsidian eyes and golden hair and ornate armor. Her voice is silvery and clarion, a voice bred of royalty and meant to command.

The Captain is a bit taller, about 5'11"; a whip-thin half-elf with reddish hair and regal features.

The final dragon, whose head is the size of a small cathedral and whose body covers most of the block, hovers magically above you, his wings held respectfully still so as not to disturb anyone on the ground. When he speaks, his voice booms gently from back across the millenia of his long life. "Greetings to you, Great and Noble Cousins, Beloved of Shelyn, citizens of the Empire. I am Na-Calanon, of Izmir, eldest of the gold dragons of this age. We come with tidings, and to join our cause to yours, as the prophecies tell, as the calls command..."

All of the westerners seem well-versed in the manners of the empire, as they politely await acknowledgment before speaking further.

I COOK, TOO, IN A MANNER OF SPEAKING

EVERYONE NEEDS A HOBBY

Yu smiles warmly up at Jim, and bows politely. "Hello, friend. I am Yu-Nyin. New student, taking a tour, just got here from off-world. I am scheduled for an introductory mechamagical engineering course here, thought I would make sure I knew where everything was. You are...the professor? Yes? Honored to make your acquaintance." He bows again. He does not attempt to enter the lab, another show of manners.

Jim can't help but note that there is a spray of mostly-dried blood all over this guy's suit, face, and sunglasses.

As you all vault into the gate, there is a bizarre becoming that happens, where the music seems to turn into a physical thing and entwine itself around your body. Each of you is covered in living melody, fortified with moving, sentient harmony. You feel the speech that exists in music, whose vocabulary is the fundamental motion of bodies in the multiverse and whose language is emotion itself. You are in a strange tunnel of some sort, and there is a blurring as you go past, a sensation of tremendous power and the distinct lucrh-in-the-stomach of a steep fall, but executed so rapidly you don't even have time to register it before it ends and you are now, still armored in living music, rocketing through an endless blue-white glow.

It takes a moment, but Aylaeth and Belsarious realize it at the same time, both breathing the words "Ley Line..." Aylaeth explains a little-known fact that Ada'an's perfect memory recalls for her; one of the rumored powers of the Dragonsingers is to travel along ley lines, a feat that would typically destroy just about any creature in the multiverse, but the way they open the Gates of travel and outfit themselves and their companions in a coat of protective emotion and life and melody keeps the travelers safe. You are all inside a Ley Line, fundamental source of power and magic in the land, and it is impossibly beautiful.

Then, as abruptly as the journey along the ley line began, it ends. You are jerked back upwards at an incalculable rate of speed, Strange traceries of ley line energy cling to you and fall away as you move higher, higher, through the cold...

...and then you are there. The exit through the gate strips away the music and you are suddenly fully under your own power again. There is the usual lurch of teleportation, but it is much, much worse than usual. All of you are able to steel yourselves against it except Min, who keeps his stomach but looks a bit Shaken (for 1 round). There is a suffusion of power you all feel coursing through you; remnants of traveling through the ley line? (It is indeed; all spellcasters treat ALL spells as being cast one level higher for the next four (4) rounds as you work through the excess power the ley lines gave you.)

Looking down, you see Izmir's diviners were working on old intel. You have been dropped into a bloodbath. (Here is the map.)

You are in a tall, cold hallway. The walls are stone, but the floors and ceiling are marble. There are 5' diameter marble columns set 5' from the walls and with 15' between each column. The hallway itself is 40' wide and nearly 100' long, with a 50', arched ceiling. You all manifest right up by that ceiling, 40' up. There are two large tapestries depicting some sort of bloody conquest in one, and trade and commerce in the other. Both feature a central figure around which the scenes are composed that Aylaeth explains (again, via Ada'an) is Baron Ormir, ruler of Ormiria, and one of very few men ever to be allowed to enter into trade treaties with the surly dwarves of the Van-Monnen and Van-Duriss, the two countries that are collectively known as The Forgelands.

At each end of the hall is a large set of double doors. Each door is 10' wide and 20' tall and made of solid wood banded with iron. The doors on the west end are flung wide open and through them you see several corpses of some kind of guards. Standing there is Karthan Zhosk, the half-orc you seek, the son of the head Librarian of Stormfare University. His hands and wrists arc and spit with arcane energy and there is fire in his eyes. Immediately in front of him is a Large monster of some sort that none of you recognize, not even little Ada'an, who has thus far been quite helpful on this trip. The beast looks like a cross between a girallon and a taer, perhaps, and is engaged in combat with two metal-covered skeletons, combat that it appears is not going all that well as the beast is clearly battered and bloody, though one of the skeletons is about ready to fall apart. A Shadow is behind the undamaged skeleton, though it doesn't appear to be helping much at the moment.

Directly beneath you is the young girl, Cassandra, and the warrior Kelne, both of whom you also recognize from Ian's descriptions. The battered and bloody Kelne stands over the body of a typical-looking court jester in a tattered old harlequin's suit. Next to the jester's body is a scattered deck of cards, a mace is in his hand. Kelne is bearing down, preparing for attack from the two other metal-covered skeletons that are coming up after him. Standing next to Kelne is a heavily-armored Pharasman cleric, his hands invisible in giant orbs of purple and black divine power. As you appear, several of Kelne's wounds heal under the divine touch of this cleric, so it's a safe bet they're allies, though Captain Harrix gave no indication of any cleric traveling with the group.

Curiously, in addition to Cassandra, there is another young child, a wild-looking boy, not much older than Cassandra, stands with a pugnacious look on his bruised and broken face -- clearly he has been fighting -- and a sling in his hand. Bizarrely, strange arcane characters are swirling about him, and you notice similar characters around the Monster over by the east doors. A link between them, perhaps? The boy is clad in furs and a very old warrior's helmet that is far too big for him. The boy's eyes are glowing with arcane sight, so clearly he is a mage of some sort.

Only one of the east doors is open, but you see no one there. There is no sign of Jorzan, Tanel, or Sir Justahl. But there is clearly a battle being fought directly underneath you.

The day passes quickly. Maiathreen, Livain, and Belsarious all remain hidden. Lin and Ioseph help comfort Na-Verinath as best they can back in the eyrie while Min stands thoughtfully in front of the Fount of the Inheritor for a long time. Brook spends the day getting Sarish's bulky, strange frame outfitted with armor and riding gear and then taking little practice flights with his new friend, who proves to be an extremely skilled flyer.

It is after nightfall that Sir Damian returns with the Standard of the Skyknights; a giant, glorious banner showing Iomedae's sword flanked by two white angel wings, all on a sea of deep, rich blue. He also has tabards and cloaks for each of you, as is appropriate, to wear. Putting them on, you look like a solid, formiddable unit.

You look like a team.

It is a beautiful moment, there outside under the stars, in the Great Square where you all have gathered after dinner, and Captain Harrix looks wistful, but also very hopeful. Clearly he is happy for you all. The good mood must be contagious because you could swear you hear music. Lin and Min shake their heads, as do Brook and Sarish. All four say they hear some kind of distant noise across their Bond. They look agitated, then suddenly stop and look up, their eyes wide. Tears fall down Brook's cheeks. "Sarish, can you hear it? It's so...so beautiful!" he gasps.

Captain Harrix stands suddenly and looks up, as well. "Can it be...? Oh, what luck. This would be such luck!" he says.

There is a swelling of music all around you; a glorious celestial orchestra, bright and alien in the air yet utterly your own and noble and ennervating in your heart; horns, strings, lutes, and voices, oh the swirling and uplifting glory of those voices locked in harmonies of strength and beauty that no darkness can throw down. The very spirit of hope, of life, of escape lives between the notes in those chords.

Suddenly arcane characters burst swirling into the air above you, whooshing and twisting in three huge circles, and doors slowly open in the sky. The music swells and three massive dragons rocket out of the doors at full speed. There is a definitive perfect cadence in the music and as quickly as the doors appeared, they are gone, shut swiftly by some unseen hand.

"...Atiamu...!" breathes Captain Harrix, and his joy is obvious.

The three dragons are burdened, heavily, with...bodies? Each is clearly Ancient, and the Bond between rider and dragon is so strong for each of them that the riders all have instruments they are playing as they ride, wheeling around in a great arc and coming to a gentle, perfect landing about a hundred yards away.

Ian, suddenly solemn, calls over his shoulder. "Sound the alarm! Healers! Come forth! NOW!" Silver bells begin to ring and clerics and paladine come rushing out from all over, descending on these three dragons. The riders have climbed back and are unwinding the ropes binding what are definitely a collection of carefully bound bodies, though all the bodies seem to be wounded, not dead. The riders are two women and a man, and the dragons are a brass, a silver, and a copper.

Ian looks at you. "Come. This is such a boon. Come meet the last of the Dragonsingers." He heads off at a trot across the Square.

Seems light by yesterday's standards, but lets see what the rest of the morning brings

<_<

"Don't worry, all; none of you shall come to any type of grievous harm as long as I am on the premises."

Percy the ill-tempered magma elemental has found his true calling as a healer while on Sifu Daiyu's extended Advanced Meditation masterclass. He has a surprisingly light bedside manner and MAN can he cauterize a wound.

How in the 9 Hells did that happen?

Eh. I went back to edit and it munched my edit; I think my post got re-time stamped. *shrug* GREAT SCOTT, MARTY!

Whoa, time warp!

Nasima, still in cloud form around the creature's eyes or sensors or whatever, trying to blind it, hears Enre and calls down to him. "It's a big metal thing that came up through the floor! Try hitting it with the big metal thing on your back, for starters, and we can work from there!"

Well you're no fun. I'm out of bullies now unless we count Albin, and what is going to do? Get attacked by slurks again?

Well, if you're looking for trouble, I could start flirting with you. Lots.

Filne Nathton wrote:

"But more to the point you have no spellcaster I am aware of that can break thru my spells.

[Chuckles]

Heh. I'm starting to sense a pattern here with OC's characters.

Wait, they're scheduled? Well that explains a lot.

Wow! The boards just got 20% cooler in 10 seconds flat.

Brony here, too, got mad love for DJ p0n-E. Only just on ep. 16 right now but I keep making my way through. Love the show so much, pity my gf just doesn't understand. :-(

Exactly! You can't spell one without the other, after all.

"You're the last one, you know that?"

Miles away from the city, Taisper stands over a dying man, the last of the bandits who fled from the battle where the Stag Lord went to his final reward. Both of the bandit's legs are broken and there is an arrow shot straight through his shoulder. He has given up grasping at his sword, too far for him to reach. He rolls over and looks up at the golden-eyed young man who is barely out of his teens who has brought him down. "Just finish it. F@#%ing tosser. I ain't inter'sted in your preaching or bragging." There is a rustling in the shadows behind him. The bandit attempts to look but the pain is too great and he winces. "What's that? More of you? You can't do it yourself? Puny little s**!. You're nothing. You're s*#&."

Taisper grins, and if it's a bit too wide, the man is too hurt to notice. "Hey man, hey I've got an idea. You know..." The inquisitor has taken out a piece of paper and made a slash through the final word on a small list. With great care, he puts the paper back. "...it was almost a year ago today that you ran. I got your other three fellow deserters pretty fast, but you! Man, you hid good. But your own impurity brought you low. You scofflaw. You malcontent. Heh. A year ago! Hey, you want to hear a joke?"

There is another rustling in the shadows, and now the heavy tread of an armored boot. Taisper pays no mind, and doesn't wait for the man to answer his question but instead launches into a joke. "So a priest is walking down a country lane and sees a young farmer struggling to load hay back onto a cart after it had fallen off. "You look hot, my son," said the cleric. "why don't you rest a moment, and I'll give you a hand."
"No thanks," says the kid. "My father wouldn't like it."
Well, this cleric he says "Don't be silly," he says. "Everyone is entitled to a break. Come and have a drink of water."
Again the kid, he says his dad, boy, his dad will be upset and give him a whipping. Losing his patience, the cleric said, "Your father must be a real slave driver. Tell me where I can find him and I'll give him a piece of my mind!"
"Well," says the kid, "he's under the load of hay." "

Taisper smiles broadly and squats down by the bandit who rolls his eyes in disgust at the terrible joke. The inquisitor speaks again. "Ain't that something? That's a joke some of the farmers tell around here in Newhaven. Man those folk have some great gags. Salt of the earth I tell you." The footsteps stop mere inches from the dying man. Taisper finally looks up to acknowlege the newcomer. "Well Alexius, I guess it's time for you to do your thing." Taisper latches his morningstar back on his belt and folds his arms over his chest. He is a bit bigger than he was a year ago, and his armor had to be let out to make room for his thicker arms and broader shoulders. All his heavy exercise and careful eating led to his build getting thicker with muscle.

The bandit looks up and sees the hellknight scowling down at him. "Wh-! No no no no no! No, you...you have to kill me! Not him! You can't let him use th-"

Taisper cuts him off as Alexius draws Mourne from its sheath. "I judged you on that day, friend, and your end is mine. That's the way this goes. Do you know what happened that day? What you missed, you coward? I was bathed in golden light, and while many of my companions were laid low, and the saint Jemini of Ioemedae sacrificed herself so my mission, my life could continue, I was unhurt. Unhurt! No damage was done to my person because I'm Chosen, you see. All the signs lined up. Because that day? You know what that day was? The day of our triumph over chaos and fear? The day we crushed the Stag Lord?"

Alexius' sword plunges into the bandit's chest, killing him instantly. The strange sighing hiss that Taisper has come to recognize as the blade devouring a soul whispers off into the woods, joining a thousand thousand other secrets that no doubt lurk in the shadows and briars.

The 21-year-old holy warrior looks down at the corpse at his feet. "That day was my birthday, criminal. I am Chosen. And I will end you all." He nods at Alexius, and the two unlikely partners start back to the city, leaving the corpse of the last of the deserters behind for the animals of the woods to devour, like the black blade devoured his soul.