The Runic Storyhour: An Oriental Adventure in The Dream
- Thread starter Rune
- Start date
Bianca MarOu
First Post
Rune said:
The scaring... except for the last one, was completely unintentional. (The last one not only got Fighting man dances, but Rune and Chameleon as well, because I ambushed from behind Chameleon's chair) Overall it was Rune's doing to have the PCs on the edge of their seats. I just inadvertantly took advantage of the situation.
Rune
Once A Fool
I've just posted a couple of pictures of my interpretation of Ocean Deeply Sleeps in mourning in the Art gallery. You'll have to scroll down 9 or 10 posts.
The first is in color. The second is the same thing, but in grayscale, since it was during the Black & White season.
Hope y'all enjoy.
The first is in color. The second is the same thing, but in grayscale, since it was during the Black & White season.
Hope y'all enjoy.
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Rune
Once A Fool
DM Note: All of the updates, from now on, will be narrated in the voice of Ageless Spirit Watches (unless otherwise noted), an NPC who has not yet made his appearance in the game, but with whom one of the PCs has most certainly interacted.
The role of Ageless Spirit Watches will become clearer as the story unfolds.
This, of course, means that I have taken over the duties as author of this story hour and, unless otherwise noted, all future installments are my labor.
Times, regretably, change and players come and go. I have a bit of catching up to do, but I can tell you that as of this date, some of the players have moved away and will not be rejoining the game, save as guest characters.
These include the player of Ocean, the player of Chameleon and Drunken Dwarf, and the player of Swift and Strong Dwarf (although we hope to get him back by January).
I shall introduce new players as their characters are introduced into the story hour. Thank you all for your patience; I hope you enjoy your stay in The Dream as much as I've enjoyed inflicting it upon you!
The role of Ageless Spirit Watches will become clearer as the story unfolds.
This, of course, means that I have taken over the duties as author of this story hour and, unless otherwise noted, all future installments are my labor.
Times, regretably, change and players come and go. I have a bit of catching up to do, but I can tell you that as of this date, some of the players have moved away and will not be rejoining the game, save as guest characters.
These include the player of Ocean, the player of Chameleon and Drunken Dwarf, and the player of Swift and Strong Dwarf (although we hope to get him back by January).
I shall introduce new players as their characters are introduced into the story hour. Thank you all for your patience; I hope you enjoy your stay in The Dream as much as I've enjoyed inflicting it upon you!
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Rune
Once A Fool
Session 8, part 1
The Dream reacts. The Heroes' stomachs sink and turn upon themselves as The Dream shifts reality around several deaths--or one more noticeable death.
And so, as destiny hangs in the balance and the path of future events might still be avoided, fortune begins to sour for the Heroes of the Night of Spiders. Waterfall does not wait for the group to answer her before she opens the door and rushes in.
By the time the Heroes re-enter the building and pass through the beaded veil separating the main rooms of the floor, Waterfall is nowhere to be seen.
All that can be seen, as a matter of fact, are the lacerated bodies of the two cabalists and...the remains of the insanity-inducing creature. Whatever killed it is still hiding in the impossible dimensions of this unreal building.
Chunks of the rubbery creature slide down the walls as the Heroes creep forward, ever wary. Not a sound can be heard, save their own labored breath and rapid hearts. An intricately ornamented three-part screen, once shielding the stairway from view, is now tattered and lies in fragments on the floor.
The Heroes note that they can still feel the despair and hopeless nausea of the death-shift of The Dream. It has not subsided and, if anything, grows stronger as they approach the stairway. Nevertheless, they do approach the stairway, for what other options present themselves, at this point?
Once upon the threshold, they listen intently for any indication of which direction Waterfall has proceeded--up or down. They can, it seems, make out the faint hint of footsteps, but their origin is lost in the echoes of the spiraling stair.
The tiger is growling continually and even the monkey is subdued. This is no surprise to their masters, for the feeling of death is gnawing ever at them all. If they stare at an object long enough, they can even see that it seems to decay before their very eyes, slowly, so slowly that it might be no more than imagination.
In the end, they must choose one direction, or split the party. Wisely, one is tempted to assume, they choose not to divide the party, preferring, rather, to face whatever evil awaits them together.
They go up.
The Dream reacts. The Heroes' stomachs sink and turn upon themselves as The Dream shifts reality around several deaths--or one more noticeable death.
And so, as destiny hangs in the balance and the path of future events might still be avoided, fortune begins to sour for the Heroes of the Night of Spiders. Waterfall does not wait for the group to answer her before she opens the door and rushes in.
By the time the Heroes re-enter the building and pass through the beaded veil separating the main rooms of the floor, Waterfall is nowhere to be seen.
All that can be seen, as a matter of fact, are the lacerated bodies of the two cabalists and...the remains of the insanity-inducing creature. Whatever killed it is still hiding in the impossible dimensions of this unreal building.
Chunks of the rubbery creature slide down the walls as the Heroes creep forward, ever wary. Not a sound can be heard, save their own labored breath and rapid hearts. An intricately ornamented three-part screen, once shielding the stairway from view, is now tattered and lies in fragments on the floor.
The Heroes note that they can still feel the despair and hopeless nausea of the death-shift of The Dream. It has not subsided and, if anything, grows stronger as they approach the stairway. Nevertheless, they do approach the stairway, for what other options present themselves, at this point?
Once upon the threshold, they listen intently for any indication of which direction Waterfall has proceeded--up or down. They can, it seems, make out the faint hint of footsteps, but their origin is lost in the echoes of the spiraling stair.
The tiger is growling continually and even the monkey is subdued. This is no surprise to their masters, for the feeling of death is gnawing ever at them all. If they stare at an object long enough, they can even see that it seems to decay before their very eyes, slowly, so slowly that it might be no more than imagination.
In the end, they must choose one direction, or split the party. Wisely, one is tempted to assume, they choose not to divide the party, preferring, rather, to face whatever evil awaits them together.
They go up.
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Rune
Once A Fool
Session 8, part 2
The stairway twists ahead of the Heroes, visibly writhing; despite the Heroes' desperate attempt to remain grounded in reality, it is squirming away from them. Somewhere above--or below--them, the echoes of footsteps subtly dance through their heads.
Abruptly, the spiraling staircase opens up into a large room--far larger than the building that houses it-- that trails off into darkness. A pale luminance plays on the walls; they are glowing softly in patterns vaguely reminiscent of tentacles.
Before they can move on, they distinctly hear the sounds of someone climbing the stairs behind them--in a hurry. They have no time to react before the entity is upon them.
Dashing Orcblood Croons faints with a short shriek.
A vague memory of fire and strife flits through Fighting Man Dances' head, but refuses to fully surface. Ultimately, the halfling must offer it as a sacrifice to time. Intelligent Chameleon's face is guarded--and his mind unspoken--but his eyes, for but a brief moment, reflect recognition.
The man is clearly surprised to come up behind them stands in shock for a moment, then speaks in elation.
"It has been a long while, friends! Now I know the meaning of my master's words of prophecy--that I should seek out the house of madness and be welcomed into the arms of the past. For surely, this is a house of madness and what else could you be but the past?"
Fighting Man Dances' monkey hops up and down on the back of the tiger, but his master still does not recognize the newcomer.
Chameleon holds his tongue, so the man speaks up again.
"Perhaps, little one," he suggests, seeing that the halfling's face is blank, "you do not remember me, but I well remember you."
Fighting Monkey Dances is screaming, now. The halfling's face is puzzled. "You tied Monkey to a tree?"
Finally, in exasperation, Chameleon breaks in. "The halfling remembers half that of a man. Welcome back, Swift. Though your presence now is inexplicable to us. We left your dead body in this flaming city when it perished."
"Surely, you play some joke at my expense! I have never died. And this city has clearly never burned to the ground."
Before the group can puzzle out this odd turn of events, Orcblood regains consciousness. The Heroes determine that the best course of action for the moment might be to send for reinforcements. Orcblood is directed to seek out Nightfall Softly Calls.
The growl of Chameleon's tiger is still low and the death-nausea discharge of The Dream has not subsided. Chameleon and the tiger share a wordless conversation and the tiger prowls into the darkness that swallows the far end of the chamber. Chameleon is not far behind.
Fighting Man Dances and Swift Serpent Strikes stand in uncomfortably dense silence on the stairway and wait.
And wait.
Eventually, they can make out movement in the darkness. As their hands tighten around their weapons, the forms of a man and a beast take form, striding forward. Drained faces flush when it becomes clear that these forms are, as hoped, those of Chameleon and the tiger.
"So, is she back there?"
"No. Nothing is back there."
"Nothing?"
Chameleon's glare is haunting in the pale tile-light. "Nothing."
They continue to climb the stairs.
At the top level, they are confronted with a single door. It seems larger, when they stare at it overlong, than the frame in which it stands. Try as they might, they cannot pry the door open. In frustration, the Heroes turn their attention away from the door and prepare to descend into the depths of this unnatural bookstore.
Their smoldering silence is interrupted by a long, wailing screech, immediately behind them. The warriors spin around to fight, only to see that the door has swung out into a lightless void and that the monkey hangs from the door's handle over nothing.
The void is not entirely devoid of objects; various pieces of furniture float by, out of reach, illuminated by some unseen light source.
The stench of rotten flesh wafts through the nothingness and, as the party stares into the void, a bloated, festering corpse speeds toward them.
The stairway twists ahead of the Heroes, visibly writhing; despite the Heroes' desperate attempt to remain grounded in reality, it is squirming away from them. Somewhere above--or below--them, the echoes of footsteps subtly dance through their heads.
Abruptly, the spiraling staircase opens up into a large room--far larger than the building that houses it-- that trails off into darkness. A pale luminance plays on the walls; they are glowing softly in patterns vaguely reminiscent of tentacles.
Before they can move on, they distinctly hear the sounds of someone climbing the stairs behind them--in a hurry. They have no time to react before the entity is upon them.
Dashing Orcblood Croons faints with a short shriek.
A vague memory of fire and strife flits through Fighting Man Dances' head, but refuses to fully surface. Ultimately, the halfling must offer it as a sacrifice to time. Intelligent Chameleon's face is guarded--and his mind unspoken--but his eyes, for but a brief moment, reflect recognition.
The man is clearly surprised to come up behind them stands in shock for a moment, then speaks in elation.
"It has been a long while, friends! Now I know the meaning of my master's words of prophecy--that I should seek out the house of madness and be welcomed into the arms of the past. For surely, this is a house of madness and what else could you be but the past?"
Fighting Man Dances' monkey hops up and down on the back of the tiger, but his master still does not recognize the newcomer.
Chameleon holds his tongue, so the man speaks up again.
"Perhaps, little one," he suggests, seeing that the halfling's face is blank, "you do not remember me, but I well remember you."
Fighting Monkey Dances is screaming, now. The halfling's face is puzzled. "You tied Monkey to a tree?"
Finally, in exasperation, Chameleon breaks in. "The halfling remembers half that of a man. Welcome back, Swift. Though your presence now is inexplicable to us. We left your dead body in this flaming city when it perished."
"Surely, you play some joke at my expense! I have never died. And this city has clearly never burned to the ground."
Before the group can puzzle out this odd turn of events, Orcblood regains consciousness. The Heroes determine that the best course of action for the moment might be to send for reinforcements. Orcblood is directed to seek out Nightfall Softly Calls.
The growl of Chameleon's tiger is still low and the death-nausea discharge of The Dream has not subsided. Chameleon and the tiger share a wordless conversation and the tiger prowls into the darkness that swallows the far end of the chamber. Chameleon is not far behind.
Fighting Man Dances and Swift Serpent Strikes stand in uncomfortably dense silence on the stairway and wait.
And wait.
Eventually, they can make out movement in the darkness. As their hands tighten around their weapons, the forms of a man and a beast take form, striding forward. Drained faces flush when it becomes clear that these forms are, as hoped, those of Chameleon and the tiger.
"So, is she back there?"
"No. Nothing is back there."
"Nothing?"
Chameleon's glare is haunting in the pale tile-light. "Nothing."
They continue to climb the stairs.
At the top level, they are confronted with a single door. It seems larger, when they stare at it overlong, than the frame in which it stands. Try as they might, they cannot pry the door open. In frustration, the Heroes turn their attention away from the door and prepare to descend into the depths of this unnatural bookstore.
Their smoldering silence is interrupted by a long, wailing screech, immediately behind them. The warriors spin around to fight, only to see that the door has swung out into a lightless void and that the monkey hangs from the door's handle over nothing.
The void is not entirely devoid of objects; various pieces of furniture float by, out of reach, illuminated by some unseen light source.
The stench of rotten flesh wafts through the nothingness and, as the party stares into the void, a bloated, festering corpse speeds toward them.
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Broccli_Head
Explorer
The dream meets the macabre!
What happened to the dwarves, and Ocean?
what is the cast of characters now?
What happened to the dwarves, and Ocean?
what is the cast of characters now?
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