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Sagiro's Story Hour Returns (new thread started on 5/18/08)
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Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
Here's the explanation:Zustiur said:Wasn't there supposed to be an explanation of how Sagiro isn't dead after falling off a cliff? Or does that come later?
Is Pewter still around? He hasn't done anything hilarious lately
Zustiur.
Sagiro didn't literally fall off a cliff. He was knocked down a very steep mountainside into a raging river which swept his body away. But he hadn't taken lethal damage, and he washed ashore before drowning.
In other words, he didn't die in the same way that (unlikely but possible spoiler):
Aragorn didn't die in the Two Towers movie.
As for Pewter, sure, he's still there. But there's only so much screen-time to go around!
-Sagiro
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
Fimmtiu said:
Thanks! The hardest moment was the day or two before the session, when my wife (who plays Kibi) actually guessed that the Lord of the Roses was Sagiro. Of course, she was joking, ha ha, because how preposterous would that be? I joined her in laughing off the suggestion as ridiculous, but I couldn't laugh too hard without making her suspect something.
And now, the next update:
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 244
Welcome to Bakersfield
The good news is, the Way does its job. The transit feels rough, as if the Eyes are still getting the hang of the whole “connecting worlds” thing, but in the end the Company is ejected into the Slice the Eyes were aiming for.
The bad news, which really isn’t all that bad in the grand scheme, is that the Green and Purple Eyes don’t quite grasp the concept of “ground level.” The Way opens into the air forty feet above the ground. Someone must be watching out for them though, as below them is a steep grassy hill. Each member of the party plummets (except for Dranko, who feather falls), bounces down the springy incline, and rolls to a bruised and battered stop at the bottom.
Ernie rolls over, pushes Flicker off his chest, and checks himself for broken bones. He sees that a human girl is standing nearby, watching them curiously. She looks like she’s seven years old, though in Het Branoi her true age is impossible to tell, and her expression carries an adult maturity.
She speaks to them in a foreign tongue. Ernie gets himself into a sitting position and casts tongues.
“Hello there!” he says, smiling. “I’m Ernest.”
“I’m Luna,” says the girl.
“Would you tell me where we are?” asks Ernie.
Luna looks up, to the patch of sky out of which the Company fell. Ernie sees her looking and says, “Yes, we fell out of the sky.”
“There’s no Way up there,” points out Luna.
Ernie looks up and sees that she’s correct. The multicolored Way is gone.
“We came through a special gate,” explains Aravis, with Ernie translating. “Not all Ways are permanent.”
Luna keeps looking up, as if she expects a trick.
“So,” repeats Ernie. “Where are we?”
“We’re in the hills outside of Bakersfield,” says Luna.
“We haven’t been here before,” says Ernie. “It looks very pretty.”
Luna shrugs, and then, bizarrely, asks, “I don’t suppose one of you is made out of ruby and emerald and amethyst and sapphire?”
She looks more carefully at the assembled Company as she says this, as if trying to pick out such a person among them.
“That’s a strange question,” remarks Kibi, thinking immediately of Scree and his Eyes of Moirel.
“Why do you ask?” says Ernie excitedly. “Do you have a prophecy?”
“It’s not my prophecy,” says Luna. “It’s Mystic Peralta’s prophecy.”
“Ask her who Mystic Peralta is,” prods Dranko.
“Duh,” says Ernie. “A mystic.”
“Just ask her.”
“Who is Mystic Peralta?” asks Ernie. “A wise woman? Wise man?”
“If you ask me,” says Luna, “she’s... well, she’s what happens if you look into the Seeing Flame long enough.”
Dranko casually calls from his widemouth pouch a ruby, sapphire, emerald and amethyst, and shows them to Luna.
“I see that you’re rich,” says the girl, “but I don’t think that’s what she meant.” To Ernie, she adds: “I don’t think he’s the one.”
“Do you know the rest of the prophecy?” asks Ernie.
“No,” says Luna. “It’s been a long time since I heard her say the whole thing. I think that someone made out of that stuff is going to go through the Black Door, or something like that.”
“Let me guess,” says Ernie. “No one who goes through the Black Door ever comes back.”
“No, they don’t,” says Luna, a bit surprised. “Well, except for Porridge.”
“Who’s Porridge?” asks Ernie.
“He’s the only guy who’s ever come back,” says Luna.
“What happened to him on the other side?” asks Ernie.
“Who knows?” replies Luna. “He’s nuts. He hasn’t really been right in the head since then. And he never said what he saw.”
“Maybe we should talk to Porridge and Mystic... er... what’s-her-name ourselves,” says Ernie.
“Peralta,” says Luna. “Mystic Peralta of Na’Lil the Seeing Flame, blah blah blah.”
“How many people are in Bakersfield?” asks Dranko.
“Right now?” says Luna. “Maybe a hundred, hundred and fifty. Say, why don’t you come with me into town. I’ll take you to the Wily Warthog. I spend a lot of time there. Sadly, it doesn’t take a lot of alcohol to get my body drunk, since I’m still physically a little kid.”
Scree has stayed hidden underground through all of this exchange. As the Company heads toward the town, the earth elemental says excitedly to Kibi: “I’m made of all those things! Those gems! That’s me!”
“I know,” says Kibi. “But we don’t want to cause a panic or anything around here, so I think you ought to stay hidden until we figure out what’s going on.”
Scree agrees.
“We’ve got three other Ways out of Bakersfield,” says Luna as they walk. “There used to be five, but two of them have gone gray.”
“Cleaners,” says Ernie, his voice grim.
“I’ve heard them called that,” says Luna.
“Where do they go to?” asks Dranko.
“Well, one goes to the Lions,” answers Luna. “Another goes to the ocean, but no one goes in or out of that one. And the third goes to.. slime tunnels, I think? Someone came out of that one. I think the orc came from there.”
“An orc?” asks Kibi, grimacing.
“Yeah. Garg. Garg came out of the slime tunnels. Figures, really. Anyhow, there are a lot of people in Bakersfield. All the townspeople, they haven’t gone anywhere, and plenty of folks come and go through the Ways. It’s sad, but one of the Ways only went gray about six months ago. That’s a shame, cause that went to the Apes. We had good trading with them. The Vorsh, I think they were called. No one knows what happened to them.”
“They’re probably dead,” says Dranko.
“You know not to block off Ways, right?” asks Kibi anxiously.
“Yeah, we hear that a lot,” says Luna. “But we wouldn’t do that anyway since nothing dangerous ever comes through. We get lots of visitors, mostly people who’ve heard about Peralta. They all want to check out the Black Door. Some of them go through, despite what she tells them, and like I said, they never come back.”
“Except for Porridge,” says Kibi.
“Yeah, except for Porridge,” agrees Luna. “But he was a lucky bastard.”
“Why was that?” asks Dranko.
“Well, he was roaring drunk when he went through. So were his two buddies, and neither of them came back. That was a long time ago – within days of when we all arrived. I was seven then, and I’m twenty-seven now. A few townsfolk went in the Black Door right away, who didn’t believe Peralta, and they didn’t come out. Then, a few days later, Porridge and a couple of other drunks decided they would just hop in and hop out again, real quick.”
“Haven’t you people heard of ropes?” asks Dranko.
“They were drunk,” says Luna. “Porridge came back out, but the others didn’t. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“We’ll make him,” says Dranko, but Ernie doesn’t translate that.
“Lots of people come and go,” continues Luna. “Plenty of folks like you in town... adventuring types. Some leave and come back. Others are waiting around for Peralta’s so-called saviors to show up. She can spin a story pretty good, and has a bunch of people convinced, or at least curious enough to stick around.”
“What exactly are they waiting for, when you say ‘saviors?’” asks Morningstar.
“If I understand Peralta right, when the saviors come, they’ll go through the Black Door and do whatever it is that will get us all out of here. Some of the folks in town claim they’ll help when the times comes. Others I think just want to see what happens. It’s a shame, the number of people who have come and thought they could take on whatever’s beyond the Door. Apparently whatever’s in there pulls you in quickly. We know from the ropes.”
“When you pull the ropes back, what comes out?” asks Ernie.
“Nothing. The ropes always get pulled in with the people, or the ropes get pulled back without them.”
“Haven’t you tried tying the ropes to things?” asks Dranko.
“Well, sure,” says Luna. “There’s nothing too close to the Black Door, but people have tried tying ropes to the closest tree, about 100 feet away. The ropes just break, or whatever’s on the other side manages to remove the ropes from the people.”
A light snow has started to fall, and the air has cooled in the late afternoon. They crest a small hill and see the town of Bakersfield just a few more minutes’ walk, looking like any small town in Charagan. Lights are being lit in the streets.
“Where would we find the Mystic?” asks Ernie.
“Probably at the inn, or maybe at the shrine,” says Luna. “Of Hol, that is, God of the Harvest. The actual God. I mean, I’m sure the Seeing Flame is very impressive in its way, but... Anyway, Peralta and Prinn have lots of discussions about religious matters. Prinn is the Priestess of Hol.”
“I also worship of Goddess for whom the Harvest is sacred,” says Ernie.
“Yondalla, I’ll bet,” says Luna,
“Yes!” exclaims Ernie.
“You should talk to Yoba then.”
“There’s another halfling here?”
“Yes, she’s very nice.”
“Oooh,” says Ernie. “I shall have to pay my respects.”
“So,” says Dranko. “About this Seeing Flame...”
Ernie translates.
“Oh, there isn’t an actual flame,” says Luna. “But Peralta looks into fires all the time. She says the Seeing Flame is an Oracular God, who shows itself in fireplaces and campfires and things.”
The Company reaches the outskirts of the town; some passersby nod politely while others stare unabashed. Down one of the side streets they catch a distant glint of blue light.
“Oh, that’s the one that goes to the ocean,” explains Luna. “The only Way people use – the one to the lions – is about a mile out of town, that way.” She points.
“Lions?” asks Ernie curiously.
“Yeah. Never actually been there, but I hear they’re very nice. They’re intelligent lions. Vicious when they need to be, that’s the word on the street, but perfectly pleasant if you don’t anger them. We don’t need many guards around, with the Lions at our back, so to speak. A lot of our visitors who come from civilized Slices, they say they need to keep the Ways in and out heavily guarded, since you never know what’s going to walk through. We have a few archers, but really, if anything is strong enough to get past the Lions, there’s not much we're going to do about it. So why bother? We have our livestock, our farms, no one’s getting any older... this’ll all end eventually, whether it’s by Peralta’s prophecy or something else.”
“That’s very optimistic of you,” says Ernie approvingly.
“That’s Hol. ‘Things work out,’ he teaches us.”
“Well, I hope things work out in a way that involves me getting a beer,” says Ernie with a grin.
“We can see to that!” says Luna.
Now they’re walking down the main street of Bakersfield, passing small homes and shops. Ernie’s eye is caught by a large sign with a pie. Luna sees his head turn and snorts.
“That’s where Torin lives and works. The food is good, though you have to talk to Torin to get it. He complains a lot.”
Two blocks later, near the other end of the town, they reach a large building whose large sign shows a warthog peeking slyly over a hand of cards. Beneath it is written “The Wily Warthog,” though in a language none of the party can read.
Inn they go. It’s a large busy place, with a cheery commons holding about thirty noisy patrons. Most are dressed like Luna – simple commoner garb – but a few stand out as folks like themselves, festooned with the gleam of enchanted masterwork.
One of the these is a kobold seated in a corner, talking boisterously to a couple of bored looking locals. Near the other side of the room two tables have been pushed together to accommodate a well-populated card game, and one of the gamers is a tall man with a rapier at his side and a number of glinting daggers strapped to his body. In the center of the room, at a smaller table, is a huge man drinking and laughing with a burly dwarf.
As the Company gets seated, Dranko notices that no one seems to paying for their meals and drinks. When he points this out to Luna, she says, “Oh, this place stopped charging a while ago. There wasn’t much point in just moving money around within the town, and Tuggle didn’t want to charge the outsiders while letting the locals get free stuff. So now everything’s free, but you’re encouraged to make donations. And speaking of Tuggle...”
A boisterous man comes bounding to their table.
“Hey, you’re new!” he says. “Come from the Lions?” He’s wearing a translator disc, as are many people in the building.
“No,” says Ernie.
“The ocean?”
“No.”
“Ah, the Slime Pits then. You’ll want to talk to the orc.”
“I’ll do that,” says Ernie, smiling. “Thanks.”
“How was the journey then?” asks Tuggle jovially. “’Lotta slime, huh? That’s what I hear.”
“Oh, there are all kinds of different things,” says Ernie.
“You want something to eat? Drink? You like stew?”
That’s more like it! Tuggle motions for provender while Ernie asks about the Mystic Peralta.
“She’s up in her room as usual,” says Tuggle. “She’ll want to see you, I’m sure, and talk to you about her prophecy. I don’t suppose any of you are made out of gems?”
“We’ve been asked that before,” comments Morningstar.
The food is excellent and the ale is hearty, and if Snokas finds it suboptimal he keeps that opinion to himself. Sagiro’s appetite seems already to have diminished, and he’s very quiet, often just staring out into space. The party chalks it up to post-Eye-possession trauma, but there’s not much to do about it.
Half-way through the meal Dranko gets up suddenly and announces he wants to visit Mystic Peralta right then, and before anyone can object he’s bounding up the stairs. (Kibi does grumble that Dranko might not be the best “face” for the Company, but isn’t inclined to intervene.)
Dranko knocks sharply on the door. A weary middle-aged woman’s voice answers.
“Come in?”
Dranko opens the door and sees a gray-haired woman in her late forties sitting cross-legged in front of a fireplace.
“You’re the Mystic Peralta, right?” asks Dranko.
“Yes,” says the woman, breaking off her flame-gazing and turning to face him. “And you are... ?”
“If you were really a prophetess, wouldn’t you know?” asks Dranko with a smirk.
“The Flame must not deem you important enough,” says Peralta, smiling back at him.
“I’m Dranko Blackhope, and I happen to be with some people who are extremely important. We just got in, and they’re finishing their dinner, but we’d like to talk to you about prophecy, if you don’t mind. Something to do with gems. We’ll be back up in fifteen or twenty minutes.”
He turns to go, but Peralta calls after him: “Wait! Wait wait wait! You’ve talked to some of the others then, I take it?”
Dranko stops in the doorway and turns around.
“We haven’t heard the actual prophecy, so we want to hear it first hand,” he says.
“Of course,” says Peralta, her voice rising. “But... talk to me about gems.”
“Well, first, could...”
Peralta springs to her feet and interrupts him. She almost shouts as she demands: “Talk. To me. About gems!”
“Couldn’t we wait fifteen...”
“NO!” she cries. Then, calming down a bit: “I’m sorry, but this is important.”
“Well, okay,” says Dranko. “We heard that you have a prophecy. Something about rubies and amethysts and emeralds and sapphires.”
“Do you have such a person with you?” Peralta asks breathlessly.
“Not necessarily. But we might know where we can get one.”
Mystic Peralta visibly deflates. “I don’t appreciate mockery,” she says testily.
“I’m not mocking you,” Dranko assures her. “We’re just used to being suspicious. But...”
And here he puts on as grave a demeanor has he can.
“It’s time,” he says.
“But you won’t talk to me about it now,” says Peralta.
“Well, you might have noticed that I’m not the most diplomatic person. Some of the people I’m with should do the talking.”
Peralta sighs. “I will be here when you’re ready. In the meantime, I will consult with the Flame.”
For a moment she stares intently at Dranko’s face.
“Ummm... what are you looking at?” asks Dranko.
“I’m memorizing you,” she says quietly. “The Flame will give me clearer answers if I can preserve your image in my mind.”
“Right,” says Dranko. He backs out of the door, then heads downstairs to rejoin the others.
“She’s on board, and all set,” he announces. “She’ll meet with us in fifteen or twenty minutes. She’s a bit too serious, but seems nice enough. We should...”
“Hey there!”
A high-pitched grating voice interrupts Dranko. The kobold has released his previous conversational companions and wandered over to their table.
“Hello,” says Ernie, being polite.
“I’m Nurgonik!” says the kobold. “Who are you?”
“Nurgonik?” says Dranko. “Is that communicable?
“What?”
“I’m Dranko,” he sighs. Kobolds never get the joke.
“Nice to meetcha!” says the kobold energetically. “You the leader?
“Nah,” admits Dranko. “We...”
“You got the gem guy? Peralta’s gem guy?”
“We’ve been asked that before,” sighs Morningstar.
“Well sure! That’s what we’re all waiting for!” Nurgonik is like an excited little kid. An ugly kid who doesn’t smell so good.
“What happens then?” asks Kibi.
“I assume we all go into the Black Door and get the hell out of here!”
“Where’d you come from?” asks Dranko.
“My world doesn’t exist anymore. The Way to it went gray. I had some friends, too, but they all got eaten by wolves. But I fought ‘em off, and made it here.”
Then his voice takes on a reverent tone as he says: “That’s when I met the prophetess. Have you talked to her? She knows everything!”
“Everything?” asks Aravis, skeptically.
“Everything!” affirms Nurgonik. “Well, she knows about how to get out. Isn’t that enough? So, you gonna go fight? I can fight! Is one of you the gem person?”
“Do we look like gem people?” asks Dranko wearily.
The kobold look them over. “Maybe it’s him,” he says, pointing to Ernie. “Maybe he’s all made of gems under that tin can!”
“So, you say you can fight,” says Dranko. “Gotta weapon on ya?”
“Of course!”
“Let’s see how well you can fight then” says Dranko, rising from his chair.
“I’m not gonna draw my cutlass in here!” squeaks Nurgonik. “Tuggle would chuck me out!”
“Just pretend,” says Dranko, grinning. “Use a spoon.”
“Dranko, why are you torturing him?” asks Aravis.
Dranko takes a menacing step toward the Nurgonik, and the kobold backs up and gets into a defensive stance. From his body language, Dranko guesses he’s a decent warrior, though not really on the same level as the Company.
“You’re good,” says Dranko approvingly.
“You bet I am!”
“Are there a lot of people around here who are ready to fight?” asks Kibi.
“A few, yeah,” answers Nurgonik. “Like him. Ox. That’s the guy talking to Kiro. Kiro’s the dwarf. He’s the one who came with Kell.”
Perhaps hearing his name, the tall, heavy-set Ox looks over at them.
“Nurgonik!” he shouts, slurred with drunkenness. “Leave those people alone. They’ve heard everything you’re gonna say. Probably more than once already. Jus’ leave ‘em alone for a few minutes, l’right?”
Nurgonik looks over and ducks his head. “Yeah. Sorry. Yeah, yeah.”
“Thanks, Ox!” calls Dranko. Nurgonik hops across the commons to another table and starts badgering someone else.
* *
In the modest inn room of the Mystic Peralta, she looks at the assembled Company crowded inside the door.
“There are a lot of you,” she observes.
“Good things come in large numbers,” says Dranko.
Kibi introduces himself and the others, and Peralta looks carefully at each of them. They look at her expectantly, but after two tense minutes her shoulders droop and she sighs.
“Ahhhh. I suppose not,” she says.
“Actually, you may be surprised,” says Ernie. “We have more to show you, but we want to hear the prophecy first.”
“All right,” says Peralta, though she looks unconvinced. “I am a servant of Na’Lil, the Seeing Flame. I was passing on a pilgrimage and staying at the this very Inn, when it was Sliced away.
“On the night before we were trapped here, I had a prophetic dream. In that dream I was sitting in this room, as I am now, by the fire. The fire spoke to me. As with all people who visit me, I will share my dream with you. If your are not the saviors, I will ask you to go forth from this place and spread the word.
“The fire said that when I awoke, I would be trapped in amber. That I would appear in a room without walls, and yet with many doors. It said that most of the doors would lead to other lands, but that one door would be black, and it would lead to salvation and certain annihilation. The Flame said that I was to stay here and guard that door, and warn others of what was beyond it. That they needed to wait for the saviors to come. And I would know them, for they would be made of ruby, and emerald, and amethyst, and sapphire. They would go through the Black Door and find salvation.
"And when I woke up, here I was. It had all come true. So now, I wait.”
...to be continued...
Jackylhunter
First Post
Very Cool, but the Mystic is waiting for a person "made of" 4 gems, the party only has 3, unless I've missed something.
Dherys Thal
First Post
Waiting for the mystic to blow a nut...
This is disorienting to read - I wonder if the PCs feel the same way about playing through this planescape...I feel lost and groundless just reading it. Fantastic plot though...seriously.
And if ever Tapheon gets the best of Dranko, dude could always move to Innsmouth, MA...The evil lord must "hate pons" and rag about them "on the PA", even though in the end there is "no" such thing as "phate". I was hoping for anagrammatic insight and all I found was nonsense.
This is disorienting to read - I wonder if the PCs feel the same way about playing through this planescape...I feel lost and groundless just reading it. Fantastic plot though...seriously.
And if ever Tapheon gets the best of Dranko, dude could always move to Innsmouth, MA...The evil lord must "hate pons" and rag about them "on the PA", even though in the end there is "no" such thing as "phate". I was hoping for anagrammatic insight and all I found was nonsense.
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Well, it was worth a try - but any anagrams would be courtesy of WotC, because I think that Tapheon is mentioned briefly by name in the Book of Vile Darkness (yeah, Piratecat, that was a GREAT Christmas gift for Sagiro. Doh.) or the Manual of the Planes. Everything else about him is courtesy of Sagiro.
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
In the interest of giving WotC the credit they're due: I not only stole the name "Tapheon," but also the name of his fortress and the rod despoiler of flesh. The only things about him I made up were his physical appearance and his personality. He's the from the Manual of the Planes, but that doesn't change the fact that the Book of Vile Darkness really WAS a great gift. Thanks!Piratecat said:
-Sagiro
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