You awaken... slowly you awaken... everything hurts... but that's good right? You could have sworn you died... You try to remember how you died... was it falling into a bottomless pit? That seems to flash through your mind... maybe it was sinking into the mystical waters in that cave... you can't remember... a giant mouth? You shudder, please don't let it have been the giant mouth...
As your eyes begin to work again.. you look around... and you see a marble wall in front of your nose... no.. a marble floor... you're laying face down on a marble floor...
Agony as you force your head to move... someone replaced your skeleton with lead... evil people doing that to someone who just died...
Finally you force your head, despite it's new weight of 500 lbs, to move and look around.
You're in a place that's so odd.. marble walls... odd angles... stairs on the ceiling... doorways in walls that lead no where... all marble. You see other people stirring... some rest on those stairs... the ones on the ceiling... Everywhere is a mist...
You force your body, that weighs a good ten tons, to stand... the mist swirls around you... people wave and call at you... but the sound only carries a few feet before dying off...
Scattered around are round designs, each no bigger than a single person can fit on. And next to each.. an hourglass six feet tall... the sands spin down... rapidly... yet as fast as they fall... the sands don't seem to vanish down...
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Gaah, what the hells happened to me?
Goragg drags himself painfully to his feet. This is not the goblin cave.
Glancing around, he takes in the otherworldly aspects of his surroundings. This is not any place at all.
He grunts to himself. So this is Death. At least it is not painful.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he takes stock of his inventory. The painful blisters covering his back shriek in silent agony as he reaches down to pick up his backpack.
It is all here. But no rations. First order, secure a fallback position. Second order, find food and water.
Padding silently a few paces, he comes upon a strange design with an outlandishly large hourglass next to it.
Cannot eat sand. But might be able to use it for something. It is the only cover available so far. He searches the surrounding area for traps.
He studies the design, trying to discern its meaning or purpose.
Finally, he studies the surrounding area for tracks.
Then, exhausted, bruised, and burned, he sits down with his back against the hourglass to rest a bit.
Goragg can see some others, but they are standing upside down, on a stairwell, about a thousand feet up. They look up (down to him) and wave and it looks like they are shouting, but he hears nothing.
The white marble is incapable of holding tracks unless someone leaves muddy bootprints or something. There is no visible food, but Goragg is also not appreciably hungry.
Grim slowly stands up.
Where am I, this most certainly look like the mud we fought on and where is everyone?
Grim pads himself down and takes a mental note of his equipment and state of his body.
Grim's body is sore, and he has wounds and aches and cuts, as if he'd been in combat. The last thing he remembers seeing is an armored horse crashing down on him, it's rider dead, and the light fading from it's eyes even as it's bulk crashed down on the elf.
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Feeling somewhat better ("slightly less dead", is how he phrases it to himself), Goragg stands up and notices a figure standing upside down (!) on a stairwell far above him.
The gods taunt me with strange visions. What manner of creature stands on ceilings so...
Suddenly he stops absentmindedly pacing and slaps himself. Fool! Have you forgotten *all* of your training? You are exposed. You are lost. You have failed your mission.
But there may still be glory left to earn.
He gathers up his meager belongings and sets off toward the nearest staircase, but stops as he spies movement through the mist nearby. Drawing his trusty falchion as quietly as he can, he pads silently closer to the humanoid figure getting himself up off the floor.
This is the first sound that has been heard by anyone in the room, and it fills every nook and cranny. The voice is very neutrally toned, and it repeats itself in over 5 languages before it goes silent again.
Goragg's falchion flickers and turns into a pile of metal dust that drifts slowly to the floor.
There had been no pain, just numbness, and the blue sky overhead through the waving yellow grass. But now the pain was back, an ache in every bone. Suddenly, too, the sky was replaced with a very cold marble surface against her face. Someone had laid marble on her? No, she lay on it. Tolla pushed herself up slowly, her thick arms straining despite their obvious strength, fighting the nausea of disorientation. She slowly stood up. "My head is splitting. Gods, is this what my mother's migraines felt like?" she complains, her voice shriller than one would expect for a woman of her size.
Looking around does not help the disorientation. She looks from the populated ceiling to the sideways stairwells to the continuously flowing giant hourglasses, anger and panic mounting in her expression. She notices the tiefling and hobgoblin about thirty feet away--filthy creatures, those--and habitually falls into a fighting stance with her arms blocking her sizable torso. "What the hell is going on here?" she shouts across at them, just before the disembodied voice sounds its message. She looked across at them again, her face in abject horror. "DEAD?!"
Goghurt's crimson eyes open very suddenly and very incredulously, and he sits up very, very quickly. For more than a few moments, he doesn't see what's in front of him, because his vision is pure white.
How...?
I don't...
Is Goghurt alive? It would seem so, as his vision clears to show....floor, people...he can feel his pack on his back. He pats it. It clinks excessively and reassuringly.
He looks more carefully to see...hobgoblin, tears in eyes, standing threateningly over...devil-man. Big, healthy, wide-hipped and chested human woman.
As the voice booms overhead, somehow, the little goblin keeps his cool. It's cool. He didn't die. Obviously, he was doing something right so far.
He squeaks out a little greeting as he sets his pack in front of him and begins to pull out reagents and little vials, beginning to mix together a few useful extracts.
"Hello, Goghurt here! What do?"
Goghurt holds his vials in his hands and just looks at them for a few seconds, expecting them to foam, or to change color, or blow up, or something. Anything would be more interesting than this! Gah.
He puts them away, disappointed, and ponderously slowly stands up, letting his bare green feet slap and patter the ground as he begins to explore their surroundings.
He doesn't notice the sound-warping. His ears have been damaged more than enough by his frequent experimentation with fiery things.
Grim eye's focus on the creature that was threatening him with a weapon and has he was about to reply the loud voice was heard and the weapon gone.
I have no idea what happened, i don't even know where we are or what is going on. The only thing i know is that i was dying or at least should be dead. he has an outward calm body expression but his hand was twitching toward his weapon before the loud voice boomed.
apparently if we wait 35 minutes we should get some more explanation.
This sound fills every nook and cranny. The voice is very neutrally toned, and it repeats itself in over 50 languages before it goes silent again.
Ha so we were not dead yet, that is some sort of relief and it appears i mis understood the first languages. We should know more in 5 hours
suddenly relieved Grim looks in greater detail those around him
Gniel sits up. He looks around the hall and at his singed clothes.
"Well that was unexpected. When I mess with magi-fluxor fields like that, I normally only get a small fire, not an explosion. It's a breakthrough I say!
He takes out a slightly toasty journal and starts writing furiously.
From across the strangely-patterned floor, Goghurt sees a small, singed gnome pop into existence. With the presence of the similarly-singed hobgoblin there, he gets an idea into his head. He waddles over to Gniel, pack clinking and heavy.
He stops in front of the gnome spellcaster, looking very directly and uncomfortably into his face. "You. How you get here?"
Goghurt blinks. "Am Goghurt.", he mumbles.
Goblin now hey, Well welcome to this merry little land. We should here a great booming voice very soon so don't be alarmed.
This sound fills every nook and cranny. The voice is very neutrally toned, and it repeats itself in over 50 languages before it goes silent again.
See what did i tell you new guys. he says with a smile.
as per DM instructions
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Goragg tires of not getting an answer and peers at his companions. Seeing Goghurt's face up close for the first time (previously he had only categorized him as "generic useless whiny goblin"), a spark of recognition surfaces.
You! You and your accursed potions are why I am here! He growls menacingly and starts to raise his hands as if to throttle the goblin's puny throat, but catches himself, remembering what happened the last time he showed aggression.
Under his breath he speaks to Goghurt, You are lucky I am forced to remain neutral to you all. If we both survive this ordeal, you and I shall have words. The last word is inflected to have the implied subtext of bloodshed.
A goblin now? And a gnome? Tolla eyed the motley crew of (mostly singed?) monsters, angry and confused. Was this some kind of hell? The tiefling and the goblinoids seemed to point that way--but then why would she be here? She remembered the booming voice that rang out from everywhere, though.
She slowly approached the group before her, lacking anywhere else meaningful to go, lowering her fists but still on edge. "So...who are you all?" she asks, her voice tinged with not-so-subtle racial implications. She then makes those implications explicit as she glances between Goragg and Goghurt, asking, "I mean, who would want to save a couple of goblins?"
Goghurt cocks his head at the angry hobgoblin approaching him, and blinks twice. "My potions not responsible for our presence here. Potions very purposeful in purpose. Goghurt not know a potion for preventing death by massive explosion. Would be very useful, always prepared, if Goghurt did know potion for preventing death by massive explosion."
He uncocks his head and looks uncompromisingly at the larger goblinoid. "If hobgoblin in strange death-place, is hobgoblin's responsibility."
He turns his head, then, to look coldly at Tolla. "I would want to save a couple of goblins."
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Goragg is taken aback by the combined effects of being called a goblin, and having the actual goblin responsible for his fiery death (or whatever this is) deny his guilt.
He straightens up to his full height and addresses Tolla. I am HOBgoblin. You will not make that mistake again, or we too will have words.
He deigns not to reply to the goblin's rejoinder, instead addressing the group.
I am Goragg, warrior scout of Clan Grashnost. he says, slapping his palm to his chest forcefully.
And I am in charge here.
Off in the distance, above and to the left, the odd group see a human girl in her late teens suddenly gesticulate wildly while talking to a lizardfolk and a human male. She turns and runs (while standing on a wall, per the perception of the coterie) and leaps off the edge.
Her body puffs into dust which begins to expand out and is eventually consumed by mist.
All the burns, blisters, bruises, slashes, cuts, etc are slowly disappearing from everyone
All the burns, blisters, bruises, slashes, cuts, etc are slowly disappearing from everyone. Although it appears that the wounds on the heads and shoulders are healing slower than the wounds on the legs.
All the burns, blisters, bruises, slashes, cuts, etc are slowly disappearing from everyone. Although it appears that the wounds on the heads and shoulders are healing slower than the wounds on the legs. Although the goblin and gnome appear to be healing rapidly all over.
Goghurt looks curiously around at the others, interested to see if they've noticed that the very state of their bodies is changing.
Tolla rolls her eyes at the little goblin, but is confused why it's not trying to attack anyone. When the taller one straightens up to correct her, she also stands to her full height, at least a full head taller than Goragg .
She snorts and rolls her eyes at him. "Yeah, right. First of all, I don't take orders from any hobbos, and second of all, if you were really in charge, why would you be screaming questions into nothingness like you did earlier?"
Tolla suddenly realizes that the initial pain of waking up here is subsiding. Her legs especially feel brand new, but an ache remains in her shoulder, so she rolls it around to loosen the muscles. She eyes the gnome and goblin, who seem to have a more rapid, even healing. "Hey, how are you doing that?" she directs at them.
Gniels looks up from his notebook, realizing he is being healed
"Simply fascinating! It must be some sort of regeneration field."
He gets up and starts walking around, taking notes of everything.
"Well judging by the wounds on everyone, all of us were taken shortly before death. It could be teleportation, it could be another plane. This could just be a dream. As to why we are here, it sounds like we are needed for something. I suggest you be patient and wait the four and a half hours to pass."
He circles around people, taking notes. Currently circling the hobgoblin.
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Unwilling to acknowledge the validity of a contribution from a gnome (only slightly higher than goblins on the usefulness scale), Goragg nevertheless sits down to wait, but only after pausing long enough so that it does not appear he is taking suggestions from a lesser being.
True to his nature, however, he can't resist a little taunting.
Hey, goblin. How about you show us your swan dive off the ledge, eh? I bet it's real pretty. Go up the stairs a bit -- I'll catch you, heh, heh, heh.
Goghurt's beady little eyes regard Goragg with only the faintest expression of any emotion. "Goghurt not wish to give up second chance at life before understanding is known of what is required."
Well it does look like that it is going to be challenging when the greenskin and the rest of us will be released from here.
Grim is perfectly content staying in the background for the moment and observing everyone else. After all emotions was currently running wild and the Voice did not suffer aggression, and so grim forces himself to remain calm.
Tolla sits down too, figuring that her healed legs and the small creatures' faster regeneration might have to do with their proximity to the floor. She starts stretching, putting her legs out in front of her and reaching her arms toward her feet, grasping the toes of her boots. The gnome starts spouting off some theories about their miraculous healing, but it seems over her head. As she comes up from the stretch, she looks at the mocking hobgoblin. "Hey, Gragg, or whatever you said your name was, if you're such a Great Leader and all, how'd you end up dead?"
This sound fills every nook and cranny. The voice is very neutrally toned, and it repeats itself in over 50 languages before it goes silent again.
Goghurt brings his hands up and waves them around, insistent and upset. "Experiment would have gone fine! Goghurt is sure that Goghurt did not miscalculate!"