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High Fantasy Modern Storyhour - The Long Road (updated December 7)
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<blockquote data-quote="RangerWickett" data-source="post: 2550033" data-attributes="member: 63"><p><em>[hq]Author’s Note: When I started this campaign back in May, there was still a New Orleans. I planned to set the adventure a few months in the future so I could diverge the timeline a bit. Now that New Orleans has been all but destroyed, we simply have to assume this is an alternate reality. Not too hard with a fantasy game, but still, I wanted to bring it up in advance so that readers would not be surprised by what might be a somewhat sensitive topic.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>It would make me very happy if New Orleans were healthy enough by late October for the events of this game to really occur, but I’ll have to be content with my memories of the great, old city.</em></p><p><em>[/hq]</em>[hq][/hq]</p><p></p><p><em>October 29, 2005</em></p><p><em>4:15 pm</em></p><p></p><p>“Wow,” Terry says.</p><p></p><p>He runs a hand through his hair as he takes in the sight of the arrayed unconscious or dead bodies. The warlock in the business suit is now an unconscious raven, and the mind-numbingly beautiful nymph is now an unconscious fox. John picks up both the critters and looks around for a bag to put them in.</p><p></p><p>Behind him, the music mage Hex is dead from self-inflicted spell burn, and in front of Terry, Hex’s partner Rex is dead from a clear gunshot wound to his temple. The fey cat has fled, but jagged-leafed flowers are sprouting where its blood was spilled on the ground. </p><p></p><p>And then there are the four people who rescued him. Belladonna, John, Robert, and Scarpedin, who has a sword and an uzi. But from Terry’s expression, it appears that he cannot quite process that bit of information yet.</p><p></p><p>“Thank you,” he stammers. “You guys-”</p><p></p><p>“Is that how you cast a spell, Terry?” Scarpedin seethes. “It doesn’t sound like a spell to me. I’d like to hear you casting a spell to get us off Gaia.”</p><p></p><p>Perhaps that is the moment Terry realizes his rescuers are all fairly well-armed, but Terry nods quickly and nervously. He eyes them as he waves for them to gather together.</p><p></p><p>“That’s weird,” he says. “You shouldn’t be able to show up on both sides at once like that. But it helps me target you, so just stick close. This should work.”</p><p></p><p>Robert says, “What do you mean ‘shou-’?”</p><p></p><p>And then Terry gestures with a subtle twist of his fingers, and the four of them have to struggle to keep their eyes on him as powerful magic encourages them to look away and ignore the sight of magic. But the compulsion passes, and then weight returns to them. The heaviness and hollowness of Terra returns, and it is like taking your first step onto land after a long, relaxing swim.</p><p></p><p>The feeling passes after a moment, and suddenly the real world rushes back to them. The distant sounds of the Renaissance fair’s festivities, and much closer the dismayed shouts of people trying to get into the Lover’s Lane past the fair guards.</p><p></p><p>“We’re back?” Robert says. </p><p></p><p>He looks to the others. They nod, not wanting to jinx it.</p><p></p><p>“We’re back,” Robert repeats. “Good. Okay, now how do we get out?”</p><p></p><p>“Good job Terry,” Scarpedin says, slapping the young man on his back.</p><p></p><p>“Who were these guys?” John asks, using the two animals he’s holding to gesture at the dead bodies of Rex and Hex.</p><p></p><p>“Later guys,” Robert says. “Work with me here. We just killed two people, and turned two more into animals. The cops will be on the way sooner or later. How can we explain this?”</p><p></p><p>Scarpedin smiles, but Terry cuts him off. “No. Don’t even think about talking about ‘magic’ to cops. We’ve got to leave. That last spell took a bit out of me, but I should be able to conceal us. Dammit.”</p><p></p><p>Belladonna has tucked away her derringers and is adjusting her hair. “Do you have a problem, Terry?”</p><p></p><p>“Thanks for saving me,” Terry says, “but . . . ahh, this is just a bad situation.”</p><p></p><p>John has lit another cigarette, and he looks more calm already. “Can’t you just put their bodies on Gaia?”</p><p></p><p>Terry blinks in confusion, but Scarpedin laughs and Robert nods at the novel plan. After a few moments of discussion, Terry meditates on the rather unusual spell.</p><p></p><p>Five minutes later, when the police finally overcome their fear to enter Lover’s Lane, they find a mysterious patch of thorny flowers and a few snapped, sliced, or scorched trees, but no bodies. Rex and Hex’s body lie hidden in the untamed woods of Gaia, just another part of the Unseen.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">* * *</p><p></p><p>“Agh,” Robert says, rubbing his collar where he was shot. The flesh is fixed, but his shirt is stained with blood and something still hurts under the skin. “This still hurts.”</p><p></p><p>Terry grimaces. “Oh crap. I forgot to pull the bullet out before I healed you.”</p><p></p><p>Robert blinks, shakes his head, and mutters to himself, “I knew there was a reason I wans’t believing this had happened.”</p><p></p><p>“Let me fix that,” Terry says.</p><p></p><p>Robert waves him off, trying not to get angry. “No, it’s alright. I’ve got in a bullet in me. That’s fine. Can you just . . . get the blood out of my shirt?”</p><p></p><p>“Sure,” Terry says. “Sure.”</p><p></p><p>A moment later, the bloodstain is gone.</p><p></p><p>“So what now?” Terry asks.</p><p></p><p>The five of them are near the exit to the Ren Fest, walking casually – ever so casually – back to their Greyhound bus. John has a backpack slung over his shoulder, heavy with the weight of a fox – Janis the nymph – and a raven.</p><p></p><p>“Well, who was that guy?” John asks.</p><p></p><p>Terry shrugs. “I heard them talking a bit. They called him Morgan, but he didn’t say much to me, except that it had all been a misunderstanding and that they actually just wanted to talk to me peacefully.”</p><p></p><p>Belladonna scowls, remembering Rex and Hex’s attack. “They had quite a way of doing that.”</p><p></p><p>John shakes the backpack. “Hey, these guys aren’t going to turn back to normal and burst out of this thing, are they?”</p><p></p><p>Terry considers for a moment, then gestures them over to a relatively secluded corner. He opens the bag and discreetly casts a spell inside. The discretion is unnecessary, of course, because at that moment everyone but the five of them finds something else to look at.</p><p></p><p>“That should keep Morgan stuck in raven form for at least a day,” Terry says. “I don’t know if I could do anything to the nymph. She’s at least feyblooded, and I’m not in the best condition to try going up against that right now.”</p><p></p><p>“Uh huh,” Robert says. “Well, it was fun meeting you guys.”</p><p></p><p>“Whoa, Robot!” Scarpedin steps in Robert’s way. “Why you headin’ off, man? After all we been through, man.”</p><p></p><p>“Been through?” Robert says, perfectly feigning ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Today was very uneventful, so I’m going to put my uneventful ass back on that bus and sleep the rest of the way to New Orleans.”</p><p></p><p>The five of them walk together for a bit, until they’re outside the front gate of the Ren Fest. The bus is far away across the grassy parking lot.</p><p></p><p>Terry asks Robert, “Aren’t you a little curious?”</p><p></p><p>“About what? Seriously, this is the sort of thing you keep to yourself until you need some inspiration for an insanity plea.”</p><p></p><p>“The Bureau will look for you,” Terry says gravely.</p><p></p><p>“The who?” Then Robert catches himself. “Wait, no, I don’t care. Just . . . don’t tell anyone I was with you, okay? It was . . . it was really nice meeting you all.” He eyes Scarpedin, John, and Belladonna. “Seriously, really nice. But I hope you don’t mind if I say I hope I never see you again.”</p><p></p><p>“Buh bye,” Belladonna says.</p><p></p><p>John nods a quick farewell with his cigarette.</p><p></p><p>Scarpedin points past Robert. “Sh*t. Man in black!”</p><p></p><p>Everyone looks, even Robert despite himself. In the gravel aisle leading down the grassy parking lot, twenty feet from the group, is a white man with short blonde hair, dressed in a black business suit, with black leather gloves and shoes, and an incongruously curious expression on his face. And, Robert notes, he has a concealed handgun in his armpit.</p><p></p><p>Not feeling really intimidated or worried, the group waits until the man comes up to them. He smiles and extends a hand to Belladonna.</p><p></p><p>“Hello,” he says. “My name is Nathaniel Beckford. I understand you need a ride.”</p><p></p><p>His accent is British, light and pleasant. Belladonna takes his hand for the shortest possible time that is polite. Then she looks to the others to deal with the guy.</p><p></p><p>John frowns. “How do you know who we are?”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t, actually,” Nathaniel says, his accent making him sound anything but the intimidating figure Scarpedin first expected. “You see, I know you need a ride, because I had a vision.”</p><p></p><p>There’s a pause.</p><p></p><p>“That’s <em>definitely</em> my cue,” Robert says with a laugh. “Bye bye.”</p><p></p><p>And he keeps laughing to himself as he walks away.</p><p></p><p> </p><p><em><strong>End of Second Session</strong></em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="RangerWickett, post: 2550033, member: 63"] [i][hq]Author’s Note: When I started this campaign back in May, there was still a New Orleans. I planned to set the adventure a few months in the future so I could diverge the timeline a bit. Now that New Orleans has been all but destroyed, we simply have to assume this is an alternate reality. Not too hard with a fantasy game, but still, I wanted to bring it up in advance so that readers would not be surprised by what might be a somewhat sensitive topic. It would make me very happy if New Orleans were healthy enough by late October for the events of this game to really occur, but I’ll have to be content with my memories of the great, old city. [/hq][/i][hq][/hq] [i]October 29, 2005 4:15 pm[/i] “Wow,” Terry says. He runs a hand through his hair as he takes in the sight of the arrayed unconscious or dead bodies. The warlock in the business suit is now an unconscious raven, and the mind-numbingly beautiful nymph is now an unconscious fox. John picks up both the critters and looks around for a bag to put them in. Behind him, the music mage Hex is dead from self-inflicted spell burn, and in front of Terry, Hex’s partner Rex is dead from a clear gunshot wound to his temple. The fey cat has fled, but jagged-leafed flowers are sprouting where its blood was spilled on the ground. And then there are the four people who rescued him. Belladonna, John, Robert, and Scarpedin, who has a sword and an uzi. But from Terry’s expression, it appears that he cannot quite process that bit of information yet. “Thank you,” he stammers. “You guys-” “Is that how you cast a spell, Terry?” Scarpedin seethes. “It doesn’t sound like a spell to me. I’d like to hear you casting a spell to get us off Gaia.” Perhaps that is the moment Terry realizes his rescuers are all fairly well-armed, but Terry nods quickly and nervously. He eyes them as he waves for them to gather together. “That’s weird,” he says. “You shouldn’t be able to show up on both sides at once like that. But it helps me target you, so just stick close. This should work.” Robert says, “What do you mean ‘shou-’?” And then Terry gestures with a subtle twist of his fingers, and the four of them have to struggle to keep their eyes on him as powerful magic encourages them to look away and ignore the sight of magic. But the compulsion passes, and then weight returns to them. The heaviness and hollowness of Terra returns, and it is like taking your first step onto land after a long, relaxing swim. The feeling passes after a moment, and suddenly the real world rushes back to them. The distant sounds of the Renaissance fair’s festivities, and much closer the dismayed shouts of people trying to get into the Lover’s Lane past the fair guards. “We’re back?” Robert says. He looks to the others. They nod, not wanting to jinx it. “We’re back,” Robert repeats. “Good. Okay, now how do we get out?” “Good job Terry,” Scarpedin says, slapping the young man on his back. “Who were these guys?” John asks, using the two animals he’s holding to gesture at the dead bodies of Rex and Hex. “Later guys,” Robert says. “Work with me here. We just killed two people, and turned two more into animals. The cops will be on the way sooner or later. How can we explain this?” Scarpedin smiles, but Terry cuts him off. “No. Don’t even think about talking about ‘magic’ to cops. We’ve got to leave. That last spell took a bit out of me, but I should be able to conceal us. Dammit.” Belladonna has tucked away her derringers and is adjusting her hair. “Do you have a problem, Terry?” “Thanks for saving me,” Terry says, “but . . . ahh, this is just a bad situation.” John has lit another cigarette, and he looks more calm already. “Can’t you just put their bodies on Gaia?” Terry blinks in confusion, but Scarpedin laughs and Robert nods at the novel plan. After a few moments of discussion, Terry meditates on the rather unusual spell. Five minutes later, when the police finally overcome their fear to enter Lover’s Lane, they find a mysterious patch of thorny flowers and a few snapped, sliced, or scorched trees, but no bodies. Rex and Hex’s body lie hidden in the untamed woods of Gaia, just another part of the Unseen. [center]* * *[/center] “Agh,” Robert says, rubbing his collar where he was shot. The flesh is fixed, but his shirt is stained with blood and something still hurts under the skin. “This still hurts.” Terry grimaces. “Oh crap. I forgot to pull the bullet out before I healed you.” Robert blinks, shakes his head, and mutters to himself, “I knew there was a reason I wans’t believing this had happened.” “Let me fix that,” Terry says. Robert waves him off, trying not to get angry. “No, it’s alright. I’ve got in a bullet in me. That’s fine. Can you just . . . get the blood out of my shirt?” “Sure,” Terry says. “Sure.” A moment later, the bloodstain is gone. “So what now?” Terry asks. The five of them are near the exit to the Ren Fest, walking casually – ever so casually – back to their Greyhound bus. John has a backpack slung over his shoulder, heavy with the weight of a fox – Janis the nymph – and a raven. “Well, who was that guy?” John asks. Terry shrugs. “I heard them talking a bit. They called him Morgan, but he didn’t say much to me, except that it had all been a misunderstanding and that they actually just wanted to talk to me peacefully.” Belladonna scowls, remembering Rex and Hex’s attack. “They had quite a way of doing that.” John shakes the backpack. “Hey, these guys aren’t going to turn back to normal and burst out of this thing, are they?” Terry considers for a moment, then gestures them over to a relatively secluded corner. He opens the bag and discreetly casts a spell inside. The discretion is unnecessary, of course, because at that moment everyone but the five of them finds something else to look at. “That should keep Morgan stuck in raven form for at least a day,” Terry says. “I don’t know if I could do anything to the nymph. She’s at least feyblooded, and I’m not in the best condition to try going up against that right now.” “Uh huh,” Robert says. “Well, it was fun meeting you guys.” “Whoa, Robot!” Scarpedin steps in Robert’s way. “Why you headin’ off, man? After all we been through, man.” “Been through?” Robert says, perfectly feigning ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Today was very uneventful, so I’m going to put my uneventful ass back on that bus and sleep the rest of the way to New Orleans.” The five of them walk together for a bit, until they’re outside the front gate of the Ren Fest. The bus is far away across the grassy parking lot. Terry asks Robert, “Aren’t you a little curious?” “About what? Seriously, this is the sort of thing you keep to yourself until you need some inspiration for an insanity plea.” “The Bureau will look for you,” Terry says gravely. “The who?” Then Robert catches himself. “Wait, no, I don’t care. Just . . . don’t tell anyone I was with you, okay? It was . . . it was really nice meeting you all.” He eyes Scarpedin, John, and Belladonna. “Seriously, really nice. But I hope you don’t mind if I say I hope I never see you again.” “Buh bye,” Belladonna says. John nods a quick farewell with his cigarette. Scarpedin points past Robert. “Sh*t. Man in black!” Everyone looks, even Robert despite himself. In the gravel aisle leading down the grassy parking lot, twenty feet from the group, is a white man with short blonde hair, dressed in a black business suit, with black leather gloves and shoes, and an incongruously curious expression on his face. And, Robert notes, he has a concealed handgun in his armpit. Not feeling really intimidated or worried, the group waits until the man comes up to them. He smiles and extends a hand to Belladonna. “Hello,” he says. “My name is Nathaniel Beckford. I understand you need a ride.” His accent is British, light and pleasant. Belladonna takes his hand for the shortest possible time that is polite. Then she looks to the others to deal with the guy. John frowns. “How do you know who we are?” “I don’t, actually,” Nathaniel says, his accent making him sound anything but the intimidating figure Scarpedin first expected. “You see, I know you need a ride, because I had a vision.” There’s a pause. “That’s [i]definitely[/i] my cue,” Robert says with a laugh. “Bye bye.” And he keeps laughing to himself as he walks away. [i][b]End of Second Session[/b][/i] [/QUOTE]
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