Using wave is really nice, so far. The only two problems i have with it so far are the fact that everyone can see you type as you write, which means that if you aren't sure about how best to phrase something, you should probably write it in notepad or something and paste it in once you're satisfied. The other problem is that because it's an online, text based medium, it's necessarily more difficult to do anything very roll-heavy.
I'm running separate preludes for all the characters.
Elias's Prelude (so far):
(apologies for the tense/person changes. I'm in the middle of the rewrite to make it flow better)
It was another warm morning in Wroat, and the air was muggy. Elias could see that the sun was about to come over the horizon, which was going to make it even worse. At least I'm getting there early, he thought to himself. If I'd left any later, the heat would be unbearable.
Pedaling faster, he reached the wrought-iron gates surrounding Carthus University. He was still early to work, but not as early as he'd like to be. He saw the main entryway into the school: large marble columns holding up a vaulted roof high above. ClassicBrelish style. He found a post to lock hus bicycle to, gathered his papers, and rushed to the door. The air inside was cool, and he felt a gentle breeze flow over him. Turning left, he headed to his lab, which was adjacent to the Natural History wing of the library. He walked faster, knowing that he had a project due later that day that he really ought to work on. Students and faculty passed him by; some meet him with smiles and waves, others with giggles. He was very good at what he did, and he'd made many contributions to the department since he started working here, but he'd also become known for causing (unintentional) fires at least once a week. Much to his chagrin, the students found his "accidents" amusing, and think of you as a constant source of entertainment.
Elias reached his office, which was actually Gorbish's old office. It was assigned to Elias after Gorbish left, and he hadn't the heart to take down any of Gorbish's old things. Arcane markings covered the walls; at least, up to chest height. Being a gnome (specifically, a gnome with failing eyesight), most ofGorbish's notes were posted where he could read them without finding his ladder. Elias had filled the walls above Gorbish's work with his own: diagrams for arcane spellcasting that seemed to flicker on the page; maps of old and forgotten lands with yellowing, upturned corners; schematics for devices he had seen half-formed in dreams. Elias's desk, in the back of the room, was well-organized: research to be done on the left, research completed and waiting to be filed on the right, and research that needs to be redone because it exploded in a special pile in the center. Some of the pages were a bit charred, and a few had holes burned in them. His mail was sitting in a basket underneath the mail delivery chute by the door.
He set his things down in his chair and breathed a deep sigh. Good to be home.
The office was stuffy, closed off from the breeze in the hallway. It had always been stuffy, something Gorbish never minded but always drove Elias to distraction.
"For the love of the sovereign host it's hot for this early in the morning," he whined. Wroat summers were hot, and he hated that. He didn't want to open his third floor window, because that would just make things worse. Holding his hand close to the ceiling, he attempted to create a small whirlwind using Prestidigitation, something just to keep the air moving in the room.
The wind started to spin in the center of the room, starting slowly, but gradually increasing in speed. Unfortunately, Elias's frustration with the heat and the still air influenced his spell, causing it to be a little stronger than he had anticipated. A few of the papers on his desk fluttered to the floor.
"Blast it all," he muttered, letting go of the spell and deciding to live with the heat. He picked up his mail and started to look through it while simultaneously picking up the displaced papers and variously organizing the room in preparation for his project and the Arcane History class he had to teach at 10:00.
Most of his mail was quite uninteresting: requests for updates on projects he'd been working on, invitations to lectures by some of his colleagues, magazines that he'd subscribed to. But one letter stood out: it was a yellowed, battered envelope with Elias's name written on the front, no return address.
"That's certainly strange," he mumbled to himself. He weighs it in his hands a moment, considering A quick thought flashes through his head" Gorbish! Not risking tearing up the letter's contents with magic, he reaches for a letter opener in his desk. With trembling fingers, he sliced open the seal and pulled out whatever was inside.
The paper crinkles; not with age, but with wear. This letter seems to have seen a lot: the parchment is creased all over, and it feels worn down. Setting down the envelope, you unfold the note and begin to read the familiar script:
Dear boy,
I must apologize for what happened several years ago. I cannot tell you exactly what happened, not in this letter. I can't risk it being intercepted. But... I need your help. We need your help. Come to the market tonight at dusk and wait one hour. I will explain what I can, but I need you to trust me. The code word is "Architect."
Alston Gorbish
PS. The office is a mess. I expected you to keep it in better condition. You're looking well, though.
Elias looked around the office in disbelief. Sure it was cluttered all to the Seven Hells, but otherwise very orderly. Then the more appropriate series of emotional responses set in and he slumped down in his chair, having forgotten the papers and bag he had put there. With a yelp he clattered to the floor, and started laughing.
Gorbish is back. He smiled to himself and grabbed at a few of the newly scattered papers.
Gorbish might be in trouble, and he had obviously been stalking Elias, but Gorbish was always getting into trouble. Whenever they'd gone out archaeologizing together, Gorbish had an incredible habit of getting them into miniature disasters, whether it be pissing off the locals or setting off the trapped doors in an old ruin. And the stalking didn't really surprise Elias either. Gorbish was a bit of a voyeur, constantly sticking his nose where it didn't belong. The most disturbing incident personally of course being that day the old gnome had come into the bath to inspect 16-year-old Elias for the Mark of Making. Gorbish tried to say it was justified, but Elias never let more than a few months go by without mentioning it.
Picking himself up off the floor, Elias continued the process of cleaning the messes he'd made just this morning and preparing for the endeavors of the day. There was a bounce to his step that hadn't been there for quite some time.
The rest of the day goes by in a blur. You administered a test in your history class; a pop quiz, much to their frustration. It was all over material that you'd covered several times over the past few weeks, but you knew that the students would still probably do poorly. The development of arcane scripts was never that interesting for them. Unsurprisingly, they always payed more attention to the Mourning and its effects on magic, including the living spells.
At a quarter past six, you finish up your last experiment; a success, considering there was only a small flood for the cleaning staff to take care of. After packing your papers and rereading the letter from Gorbish, you head out to your bicycle. The sun sets in about an hour, which means that the heat is overwhelming. You kind of regret your decision to bike to work today, but considering the alternatives, i.e. walking, it was probably the best choice.
Looking up to the clocktower, Elias decided if he was going to have to wait for an hour once it was already dusk, he should probably head home for a bite to eat, check on his mom, make sure his brother is doing his homework. He unchained his bike, strapped his pack (currently stuffed with his coat) behind his seat, and mounted. The journey home would take 10 minutes if he pedaled quickly. But pedaling quickly would mean 10 Gods-damned hot minutes as opposed to 15 freaking hot minutes, so he decided to ride slow.
After getting something quick to eat and helping his brother answer a few homework questions, Elias heads back out to the market. It is getting dark, and most of the stands are either closed or about to be. The marketplace is located in a large plaza, with cobbled streets leading out into the various parts of the city. The fountain in the center is a beautiful marble affair, with various mythological beings being slain by the heroes that founded Wroat. Taking a seat on the fountain, you begin to wait.
After about forty five minutes of waiting, a group of men start to approach you. There are three of them, all fairly muscular and intimidating. They are dressed like the city guards, down to the armor and longswords hanging from their belts. One of them steps forward.
"Are you Elias Stone, apprentice to Alston Gorbish?" he asks in a gruff voice.
Elias had been reading a history book he'd brought with him when the guards approached.
Fifteen minutes to go, Elias thought to himself. This was odd. He looked up at the guard and wondered if he should be intimidated.
He finally decided to say, "That would be me."
The guard looks at his men, then back at you. "Excellent," he says, extending his hand. "Glad to meet you. We're here to escort you."
Elias looked at the armored man intently, but didn't move. Looking into the guard's eyes, he raises an eyebrow questioningly.
The man waits a few seconds for you to shake his hand, but puts it down when he realizes you aren't going to. "Come on, we've got a few days' travel ahead of us, and the sooner we get started, the better."
The skinny wizard cleared his throat.
The man waits a while longer, then decides that you aren't buying it. He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a badge.
"I guess we're gonna have to do this the hard way, Mr. Stone. I'm Detective Remos, and we have reason to believe that you have been in contact with one Alston Gorbish, who is wanted for crimes against the state. You're under arrest until we have time to interrogate you."
The two other men draw their weapons.
Elias' eyes and fingers crackled with lightning (Prestidigitation) as he stood. "Detective Remos, metal armor is an excellent conductor of electricity," he warned, his tone calm, didactic. "I'm sure we can talk this out."
Elias prepares a to unleash a joltshould any of them move any closer.
[Thunderwave, I will push anyhit target the full two squares]
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Stone. We have direc-" his words are interrupted by a sonic clap which emanates from your body. The two guards tried to get into a pincer formation around you, which forced you to defend yourself. The three guards fly back, stumbling and almost falling to the ground. Remos lands on one knee and cries out. You hear a twang and a thud, and all of a sudden Detective Remos' shout is cut short. A short bolt is protruding from his chest. He looks down at it, then his eyes roll back in his head as he collapses to the ground. There are two more twangsand thuds, and all three are now on the ground. You turn around to see three warforged walking towards you, carrying crossbows. The lead one addresses you.
"Elias Stone."
The crackling lightening at Elias' hands and eyes turned to flame. He addressed them with a defiant posture. His appearance was almost comical: skinny in a white sleeveless shirt and brown trousers, trying to look big and scary, but also on fire.
"Say it."
The warforged do not move, do not back down.
"The Architects are waiting. Please confirm identity."
"Close enough." His posture relaxed and he let the firey cantrip fade. "I am Elias Stone." He looked at the still levied crossbows and did not approach further.
The constructs lower their weapons.
"Come with us. They await."
Elias looked furtively around the square, just knowing that someone had seen this and all Seven Hells would break loose if didn't get as far away from there as possible. He picked up his pack from his bike and quickly marched up to his waiting saviors.
"What do we do about the bodies? Are they actual city guards?"
"With all probability, affirmative. However, they are not dead. Deathbell toxin, despite the name, induces a coma lasting four to eight hours in most humanoids." The grating monotone voice is starting to wear at your ears. The three warforged surround you and start marching in unison southward.
"Smart," Elias whispered and allowed the sentinels to lead him where they may.
After several miles of walking, you find youself at the southern lightning rail platform. The construct guardians haven't spoken another word to you since you began travelling with them. When you get to the station, the guardians lead you to the third platform. You know that the rail doesn't usually run this late in the evening; at least, not the public transports. But minutes after you arrive, a railcar pulls into the station. It's a short one, perhaps the shortest you've seen, with just the cart containing the elemental spirit in front, and one passenger car behind it. Two of the warforged step inside; then, after inspecting the car, motion for you to enter. The lead warforged follows behind you, bringing up the rear.
Elias entered the train car, looked about warily, then took a seat. His head brimmed with a million questions but he decided to wait and ask Gorbish instead of pestering the warforged (who probably wouldn't give him satisfactory answers anyway).
The lightning elemental dragging the cart crackles to life, and Elias feels a sudden jerk as the cart begins to move. The next several hours pass uneventfully. The metal sentinels keep silent and motionless by the entrances, watching intently for any sign of danger. Elias looks out the window, and can tell by the positions of the moons that they are travelling north and east. He knows that there are no important settlements in that region, no major cities... nothing.
The cart jerks to a sudden stop, causing Elias to grab for a handrail to keep from sliding to the floor. Looking out, he sees... nothing. Dark woods surround the cart, as far as he can see. He hears the call of an owl, far in the distance. The warforged finally move. Two exit the cart, and after several minutes give the all clear signal. The third turns towards Elias, and says simply, "Exit the cart."
Nervously, the skinny wizard stood. He looked to the scratchy-voiced warforged that had been doing all the talking, and started to wonder if he'd cast his bets wrong.
Without a word, he exited the train car.
The construct follows close behind Elias, and as soon as the two of them are off the cart, it crackles back to life and takes off down the line. The warforged regroup, and start marching into the forest, with you in between them. The forest is very ominous. You can hear insects chittering and buzzing, and the sound of wolf howls and owl hoots punctuates the cacaphony. The trees are dense; it is hard to move between them, for there aren't any paths leading to wherever you are going. The warforged push branches out of the way, making sure that none of them strike you as you walk past. After walking for over half an hour, you see the top of what looks like a stone wall. As you approach, it becomes more clear: this isn't just a wall, it's a fort. The walls are made of dark gray stones which are probably several hundred pounds each. The warforged with the rasping voice walks up to the wall and begins to hum, a sound like rusted metal grinding against stone. The hum begins to change pitch, and you realize that it is... singing. You recognize the song as the national anthem of Cyre, the nation that is now known as the Mournland. After he finishes the verse, you hear a grinding sound reminiscent of the warforged's voice itself. One of the slabs on the wall of the fort slides into the wall, recessing itself, then moving out of the way. Inside you can see a tunnel lit with warm, yellow light. The warforged turns to you, and says "Enter."
Elias does as he is told, and steps tentatively through the entryway.
Inside the entrance is a long hallway, with stone walls standing around you. Torches line the hallway, and you see doorways on either side, with rich mahogany doors and brass handles. You hear the warforged's voice again, and then the grind of stone on stone. You turn around and see the door closing behind you, with the warforged still outside.
"Into the frying pan, into the fire," Elias murmers, cursing himself for being such a curious fool. "This had better be good, Gorbish."
He walks slowly, deliberately, down the hallway. He is about to pass the first of the mahagony doors, but he cannot resist. He reaches to the brass handle and pulls (or pushes, whichever is necessary).
You push open the door, and are greeted by a wondrous sight: a library. The room, far larger than you would have guessed based on the size of the exterior, is lined with books; ancient tomes with cracked spines and well-worn pages. You can smell the musty scent of the ages documented in this room. The walls hold coldfire torches, burning with a golden amber glow. There are several aisles of books, with categories scribed on the sides of them with arcane symbols. Spell History on the left, Xen'drik Artifacts to the right... it goes on for several rows. At the end, you can see a table with a man sitting at it, his back to you. A very small man...
As quietly as he can, Elias walks up behind the small man. [Stealth check: +2]
You walk towards the figure, walking down the aisle between the rows. He seems to be engrossed in his book, and doesn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching him. As you get closer, you can see that he wasn't a man at all, but a gnome. An older gnome, dressed in a golden robe.
Hmph. A gnome. Maybe I'll give the little bastard a scare. If it's Gorbish, he deserves it. If not, he deserves even more.
Elias charges up his forefinger with a whee bit of prestidigation, and pokes the old gnome in the back.
The gnome cries out, and then all of a sudden the world around you starts to crack and fall away. Pools of lava shoot up from the floor, and the stone walls begin to crack. All of the bookshelves are sinking into the molten stone, burning to cinders before reaching the surface. It seems to be happening at the edges of the room and working its way inwards.
"Not the books!" Elias cries out, looking to see if there's a path to do the door.
The gnome turns around, already preparing to cast another spell. When he does, both master and apprentice recognize each other. Gorbish's hands drop to his sides, and he exclaims, "Elias! Don't you know you shouldn't sneak up on a wizard?"
With a wave of his hands, the room goes back to the way it was just seconds before.
"Well, even if I don't, the vast majority of my class does," Elias laughs, embracing the old gnome, an all but unseen gesture when they lived together. He quickly pulls back, and looks down at his old master. His eyes are ominously obscured by the sheen on his glasses.
"You deserved it you old hook-nose for leaving me penniless." He is suddenly impressed by his master's display. He realizes just how far he has to go.
Gorbish hops out of the chair, takes you by the hand, and starts leading you out of the room. "Come, there are some people I want you to meet..."
Always business first, Elias thinks to himself.
Gorbish takes you out of the room and leads you down the hallway. You pass several sets of doors off to the side, but Gorbish ignores them. He is taking you further into the fort. You reach the end of the hallway, where you see an octagonal stone dias with a pillar in the center. You recognize it as a lift, whether magical or mechanical you can't be sure. Gorbish presses a button on the center of the platform, and it begins to descend. Suddenly, the lift enters a large underground antechamber. In the center of the room, you can see a massive machine, with large gears and steam vents projecting from the top and sides. On the far wall, you can see a bank of one dozen warforged, arranged in 3 rows of 4 each. All are standing stock still, and each one looks slightly different. A small figure is standing near the warforged, and seems to be casting spells on the inert warforged. You also see an older man walking around the machine with a clipboard, adjusting dials, knobs, and buttons. He looks up at the descending lift, confused at first to see a strange man riding it, but then relaxing when he sees Gorbish's head. He walks toward the dock for the lift, waiting to greet you when the lift reaches the ground.
You feel a shudder as the lift grinds to a halt in the dock. The man standing next to you is wearing a jumpsuit, dirty and stained with oil, but his features are proud and his demeanor noble.
Gorbish smiles up at you, and says, "Elias, I want you to meet Merrix d'Cannith. He is why you're here."
"d'Cannith?" Elias asks, at first surprised, but then very much not given the surrounding machinery and the man's well-used clothing. He holds out his hand. "Elias Stone. Bastard member of House Cannith. It's a pleasure."
Merrix takes your hand and grins at your comment. "Nice to meet you, bastard son. I, too, have a... strained relationship with the house. You'd think after my father and grandfather invented one of the greatest weapons of our time, I would be treated with a bit more respect. But alas, that is not the case." His eyes unfocus for a second, wistfully recalling something from his past. Refocusing, he turns to Gorbish and says, "Johann is on his way with the gnome. We should go ahead and begin Mr. Stone's scan. You can go back to your work." Gorbish smiles, and says that you should come up and see him later. He waves goodbye, and walks back to the lift, starting it up again. Again turning to you, Merrix says, "I'm sure you have some questions for me, and I assure you I will do my best to answer them; however, I hate repeating myself, so I'm going to wait until everyone returns. I hope that's not a huge inconvenience. Follow me, if you would be so kind." He turns and walks towards the machine in the center of the room.
"S-Scan?" Elias asks, dumbly.
"Oh, it's nothing to worry about. Not painful, non-invasive. We just need to take some measurements, magical and non. And I promise this will be cleared up, but as I said before, I hate repeating myself. I'm going to wait until everyone is assembled. For now, let's just say that you are going to be going on a... shall we say "diplomatic" mission for me. For us. And the results this mission is going to have some very important ramifications, one way or another. Maybe Alston or Solli (he waves his hand, indicating the female gnome working on the warforged) are willing to fill you in while we wait. Anyway, on to the scan, if you would."
Unfamiliar with the machine, Elias is unsure what to do.
Merrix guides you to a station near the machine. Arcane symbols cover the ground in a small circle, where he motions you to stand. He then proceeds to yell to the gnome, "Solli, come help me out with this!"
She looks up from what she was doing, noticing you for seemingly the first time. The little woman is very cute. She looks young, by human standards, and has long, rich brown hair, the same color as her robe, and her violet eyes betray childlike enthusiasm. She blinks a few times, then smiles and waves at you. Hopping down from the stepladder she was standing on, she rushes over to the station and says, "I'm here, I'm here! Calm down, Merrix." She turns to look at you and says, "Why hello there. I'm Solli Remmick d'Sivis, and you must be Mr. Elias Stone. Nice to meet ya!" She takes your hand and shakes it. "Now, the scan is only gonna take a few minutes, so just stand there and relax. It doesn't hurt. Mostly. Just make sure not to leave the circle, alright?"
Without waiting for you to respond, Solli steps back and begins to chant. As her words grow louder, the symbols on the ground begin to pulse with a purplish hue. You can see Merrix watching you, clipboard in hand, scribbling notes on the pad of paper. You see a panel of the machine next to you slide out of the way with a mechanical hiss, and a long, thin probe extends from it. The tip of it enters the circle and begins to poke various parts of your body: down the length of your arm, around your waist, various points on your face. You are obviously concerned with what the hell is going on, and as your anxiety is about to reach the breaking point, the machine withdraws and Solli stops chanting. The probe withdraws back into the machine, and the symbols return to simple patterns on the ground. Merrix looks at Solli and says, "Great job. I can handle this from here." She nods and turns to smile at you. With a wave and a "See ya later," she is off, bounding back to the warforged she was working with earlier.
Merrix turns back to you, and says, "That wasn't so bad, was it? I'm done with you for now, so if you want, you can take the lift back upstairs. Your quarters are up there; just look for your name on the door. Or maybe you can pry Gorbish away from his books long enough to get some of those answers you seemed so eager to get earlier." He winks at you, and says, "But we both know how hard that can be, am I right?"
As he says that, the lift grinds back to life. You look up and see the descending platform. Standing on the hexagonal chunk of stone are two figures: the first is a man with purplish skin and a cowl covering his head and part of his face. He is of average height and quite muscular, but unimposing. Standing next to him is another warforged. This one has a sleek design, very different from both the ones who brought you here and the ones standing in line on the other side of the room. As the platform reaches the ground with a loud schunk, Merrix turns to them and says, "Oh, Reinhardt is back. That must be another member of our team." He chuckles. "How ironic."
Before you can say anything, the two figures begin to approach you and Merrix.
