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Story Hour
Sagiro's Story Hour: The FINAL Adventures of Abernathy's Company (FINISHED 7/3/14)
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<blockquote data-quote="Sagiro" data-source="post: 5450696" data-attributes="member: 726"><p><em><strong>Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 324</strong></em></p><p><strong><em>Overland Flight</em></strong></p><p></p><p>“Will you be staying long, then? Maximum allowable time?”</p><p></p><p>The goblinoid creature Gibbil, caretaker of Cayyat, bounces on his toes, hands folded behind his back. </p><p></p><p>“Probably,” says Grey Wolf.</p><p></p><p>“I suppose you’ll be wanting the rooms made up? One for each of you? Any special instructions?”</p><p></p><p>Flicker asks if they have a smoking room. Morningstar requests a bedroom without lamps, candles or other lights. Gibbil scuttles off.</p><p></p><p>Cayyat’s laboratory, presumably designed and stocked by Cor Kek, is magnificent, putting to shame the Company’s basement operation in the Greenhouse. The glassware is enchanted to be nigh-indestructible, the reagents are perfectly preserved and in abundant supply, and everything is meticulously labeled. The party gets down to business, scribing scrolls, brewing potions, crafting wands, improving armor, and copying spells.</p><p></p><p>There are no spell-books in the library, though most of the tomes touch on the theory and history of necromancy. The party leaves them alone, though all are intrigued by a heavy metal door at the back behind the westernmost stack. It’s locked, but that proves little impediment to Flicker, who springs the door open in less than a minute. </p><p></p><p>He pulls it open, and the entire Company feels like they’ve been punched in the gut by a <em>Bigby’s fist</em>. Flicker blacks out and drops to the floor like an empty puppet. Ernie quickly casts <em>magic circle vs. evil</em> and hurries forward until Flicker is in its area. Flicker groans and gets to his knees, squinting through the doorway. Even inside the protective circle, he feels a malign heat pouring out of the small room beyond the door.</p><p></p><p>“Huh,” he says, rubbing his head. “I was so sure it wasn’t trapped.”</p><p></p><p>“It wasn’t,” says Aravis, gesturing. The inside of the room is small, more like a large closet, but the back wall is lined with shelves, holding almost a fifty books, all with black leather spines. The titles are in a strange language. It’s not clear if the palpable evil is coming from one book or all of them.</p><p></p><p>“You know,” says Morningstar, “we could take all of our evil stuff from the Greenhouse and toss it in there.”</p><p></p><p>A few of them crowd into the closet, protected by Ernie’s spell. Kibi casts <em>comprehend languages</em> and realizes that the books are not technical – philosophy, history, politics – but at least one of them is radiating the overwhelming evil of the Black Goo.</p><p></p><p>Ernie picks up one of the books and carries it gingerly out of the closet, but it burns his hands and he’s obliged to drop it. They replace it using fireplace tongs.</p><p></p><p>“I think the ink in all of those books is Black Goo,” says Aravis. </p><p></p><p>Flicker closes the door, locks it again, and then jimmies with the lock to make it even <em>more</em> secure. Morningstar casts <em>detect evil</em>, and finds a residual taint that lingers (but is fading rapidly) on Ernie and the fireplace implements.</p><p></p><p>“We’ve made evil tongs,” says Grey Wolf. “Lovely.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>/*/</p><p></p><p></p><p>Weeks pass, relatively speaking. Stuff gets made. The Company enjoys swimming in the warm lake at the bottom of the hill, and going for walks through the surrounding woods. Flicker busies himself by removing the many black circles that have been mounted, drawn, and etched into the walls around the lodge. </p><p></p><p>When the two months are nearly up, the party gathers in the large main room, drinking tea (served by the ever-attentive Gibbil) and contemplating their next move. They have rolled out their map of Kivia again onto a long table, the corners weighted down with plates.</p><p></p><p>“Here’s my theory,” says Dranko, puffing on a Blacktallow cigar. “I think I know where the portal to their world is, inside those trenches. It was put there by Drosh, right? And Drosh isn’t stupid. So it’s not close to the edge, because someone might stumble upon it. He wanted to give his undead guardians a chance to protect it.”</p><p></p><p>“So,” says Aravis, “you’re saying that it’s in the middle? That’s hardly…”</p><p></p><p>“No!” Dranko interrupts. “He wouldn’t put it in the exact center, because he’d know that’s what <em>everyone</em> would think. That spot’s probably trapped. It must be <em>near</em> the center, but not exactly. So we go there, near the center, and listen for the sounds of fighting.”</p><p></p><p>Flicker scratches his head. “How do we know where the center is?”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t have to think of everything, you know.”</p><p></p><p>Grey Wolf smiles. “I like the part about listening for the sound of fighting.”</p><p></p><p>“Anyhow,” Dranko continues, “I’ve made everything I’m going to make, and you can only pee in the lake so many times before you get bored.”</p><p></p><p>The others stare at him.</p><p></p><p>“Which is zero times,” Dranko hastily amends.</p><p></p><p>Gibbil bids the party a fond farewell, and seems extraordinarily pleased that his guests also wish him well. “Good luck with your quest! I hope to see you again before long.”</p><p></p><p>They step out of Cayyat and onto the Greenhouse roof. Dranko has two months of beard (not having shaved while on hiatus) and uses his <em>robe of blending</em> to make himself look shabby and tattered before re-entering the Greenhouse. Eddings looks at him, blinks once, and comments dryly, “Ah. I see you’re going in disguise.”</p><p></p><p>Ernie laughs. “Dranko, were you expecting to disconcert Eddings? I don’t think that’s possible at this point.”</p><p></p><p>Eddings chuckles and nods. “What is the next item on your agenda, if I might ask?”</p><p></p><p>Dranko reverts to his normal look. “We’re going to fly to the far corner of Kivia, where our enemies have an army of undead that’s going to pry open the world and let the Emperor through. We’re going to find them and stop them.”</p><p></p><p>Eddings blinks again. “Is that likely? And soon?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, and yes,” says Grey Wolf. </p><p></p><p>Eddings nods. “So, you’ll be the saving the world as usual. Very good.”</p><p></p><p>The party briefly discusses <em>teleportation</em> destinations. There are three possible options, all of which are about equidistant from where the ravines are marked on their map. They could appear in the Jungle of Dreams, or the halfling town of Victory in Appleseed, but they decide upon the desolate plains of Branoi to north-eastern Kivia, since that’s marginally closer. After a last farewell to Eddings, Aravis casts <em>greater teleport</em> and in an instant they’re standing in a bleak and barren land. It’s cold, and dark, and they realize that this is still the very same day as their battle with Cor Kek! It was already late afternoon when they entered Cayyat, and the <em>teleport</em> has moved them several hours forward. Still, they’re well rested, and can navigate by starlight. Wind whistles over the rocks and scrub. There are no blood foxes in sight.</p><p></p><p>Grey Wolf notices that Flicker isn’t wearing his armor. </p><p></p><p>“Oh, right,” says Flicker. “I wanted to see if this would work across the ocean.” He thinks for a second, and instantly his armor is there, on his body, fully buckled and strapped. Dranko had added the <em>called</em> enchantment to several of their armors while in Cayyat.</p><p></p><p>“What if it failed?” asks Grey Wolf.</p><p></p><p>“I’m sure Aravis would have teleported me back for it.”</p><p></p><p>After some brief argument, they decide to summon the genie Al Tarqoz to cast <em>wind walk</em>. </p><p></p><p>“It’s not right,” says Ernie. “He’s like a slave.”</p><p></p><p>Flicker disagrees. “It’s nothing like that! We let him go back where he comes from, every time!”</p><p></p><p>Aravis uses the ring, and the blue-skinned genie appears before them. Just as he did the last time they called upon his services, he lays down a hand of cards. “Ha! This time there won’t be any… uh…”</p><p></p><p>“Good hand,” says Aravis, as the cards flutter to the snow-dusted earth. “Probably was a winner.”</p><p></p><p>Al Tarqoz composes himself. “Ah, my most munificent master! I’m certain that you have a fine explanation for ONCE AGAIN summoning me away from a game I was about to win, this time on a hand that was going to earn back many of my possessions and a good deal of my dignity?”</p><p></p><p>“That wasn’t the same game, was it?” asks Kibi. “When we summon you, is time passing for you?”</p><p></p><p>“No, it was not the same game. And yes, in my homeland, time is passing right now, I assure you. I’m certain that my friends and business associates are assuming that NOTHING untoward could be going on regarding this hand of cards.”</p><p></p><p>“They <em>do</em> know you’re a genie, don’t they?” asks Aravis.</p><p></p><p>“Oh yes. I’m sure they will accept all of this without question. Now, how can I serve you?”</p><p></p><p>“We’d like you to cast <em>wind walk</em>,” says Aravis.</p><p></p><p>“And we’re sorry!” Ernie adds.</p><p></p><p>Al Tarqoz smiles. “I exist merely but to do your bidding, my most benevolent master.” He casts his spell, and when Aravis assures him they need nothing more, the genie scoops up the cards, sighs, and vanishes.”</p><p></p><p>“He’s really pissy,” says Dranko.</p><p></p><p>Morningstar sighs. “ You would be too, if someone kept summoning you.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>/*/</p><p></p><p></p><p>For many hours, the bleak landscape of north-eastern Kivia rolls by beneath them. The sun rises, struggling to spread its thin, cloud-filtered light over the cold stone ground. Kibi endures the long airborne journey with stoicism, though he envies Scree safely tucked away in his <em>familiar pocket</em>. </p><p></p><p>The northern edge of the of the Stongeguards approaches, jagged snow-capped peaks jutting into the bitter air. The mountain range is wide as well, stretching twenty miles west to east. They are about half way across, flying high above the mountaintops, when they start to feel discomfort. Three minutes and three miles later, it has grown worse, and also quite recognizable. It’s the distress they felt in the locked closet of Cayyat, and in the presence of the black book in Kallor, and the Black Goo from Het Branoi. </p><p></p><p>By the time the Company has reached the edge of the mountains, they are having trouble progressing. The evil emanating from – <em>somewhere out there</em> – is like a psychic headwind. Figuring that the source of this is at ground level, they angle upwards, and so are able to make more lateral progress without the radiating evil become overwhelming. Eventually they see, far down below, what’s almost certainly the source: a black spot, like a huge shadow on the ground. It might be an enormous crater, or a flat-black lake. There are no clouds in this part of the sky, which gives them a decent view, and given their current altitude the black blotch must be dozens of miles across.</p><p></p><p>Even thousands of feet above the ground, the Company, quite literally, cannot bring themselves to fly directly over the black crater. Evil is blasting upward from it like heat from a volcano. Aravis briefly wonders if he’s seeing Naslund, the Gods’ necropolis from one of his Maze visions. He rightly discards the notion. Kibi thinks this might be the thorn in the side of Abernia, of which he once dreamed. </p><p></p><p>They decide to backtrack and go around the distant evil spot, mightily disturbed that they can feel it so powerfully, miles in the air. </p><p></p><p>“Why in the world aren’t there any <em>good</em> places in the world like that,” Dranko grumbles.</p><p></p><p>The party descends to a lower altitude once they have given the evil crater a wide enough berth. The terrain is, if anything, becoming more bleak and lifeless. There are no streams, no vegetation, so signs of natural wilderness.*</p><p></p><p>Three hours after leaving the Black Crater of Evil behind them, they spy a large patch of mist down below, at ground level. It’s probably about a thousand yards on a side, vaguely square-ish in shape, and rises fifty feet from the ground. Dranko looks for signs that it’s roiling, and sees none.</p><p></p><p>“It’s so dry here,” says Ernie. “How can there be mist? It’s not natural!”</p><p></p><p>They swoop down and fly into the mist, and it’s not damp inside, though it is chilly. It’s a thick fog, obscuring their vision beyond five feet or so, and making the Company nearly invisible in their gaseous form. They’d been warned that the ravines beneath the mist would be shielded from divinations, though their <em>telepathic bond</em> stays active as they probe the white vapors. When they are convinced that there’s nothing interesting inside this patch of mist (and have found the ground to be unblemished by trenches, ravines, or anything like them), they fly back up out of the haze and continue onward at high altitude.</p><p></p><p>A few minutes later they see more patches of fog, varying greatly in size. The smallest are no more than thirty feet in diameter, while the largest they see is at least twenty miles on a side. None of them show any signs of movement within; there is no breeze, and the areas of mist lay like unmoving shrouds on a dead landscape. It is clear that they are unnatural; while they don’t have sharp edges, they are all of a uniform height, and give the impression of being spell-effects like <em>obscuring mist</em>. They form an archipelago of cloud islands in a sea of blasted rock.</p><p></p><p>Then, ahead of them, they see the largest patch of mist by far. It extends past the edges of their vision in all outward directions. Another hour of scouting shows that this block of fog is almost a hundred miles on a side, in a rough square. Like all the others, it rises to a height of fifty feet from ground level. Beyond it are more smaller patches, but this is clearly the largest. Flying low over the top of it, the party sees no sign of movement within, nor hears any sounds.</p><p></p><p>Aravis decides that they should examine the ground along the southern edge of the mist – the side that faces Black Bay. They drop down to near ground level, though Dranko decides to test the fog again and flies into its interior. His connection with the others over the mind-link is cut off when he descends about fifteen feet into the fog. Interesting!</p><p></p><p>They land on the ground. There are no footprints, but they do find what they were looking for – bits of bone flakes and fragments scattered among the stones. After some more scouting, they find that there’s a swath of ground, several hundred feet wide, littered with tiny bone chips. It seems as though a large skeletal army did in fact pass this way, coming from the bay and vanishing into the enormous cloud of mist.</p><p></p><p>Aravis picks up the largest fragment he can find, and casts <em>vision</em>. He guesses that he’ll be unable to divine the undead currently, and so poses the question: “How long ago did the undead pass this spot?” The universe answers him: <em><strong>Six and a half days.</strong></em></p><p></p><p>“That’s quite a head start,” says Grey Wolf. </p><p></p><p>Aravis does some quick math in his head. If the bone army is moving four miles an hour, and the mist simply covers a big open space, the army could have easily covered the whole thing in a week. But if the hidden ravines are labyrinthine enough, it could take months to explore them all.</p><p></p><p>They’ve now been traveling and scouting for almost 13 hours. Before sleeping, they split up, and spend another three hours skirting the entire perimeter of the fog bank in two groups. They meet on the far side, and confirm that neither group has seen any more bone chips. Cor Kek's army has gone in, but it hasn't come out again unless it left in the exact place it went in. Finally, Aravis <em>teleports</em> them back to where they started. Grey Wolf uses his <em>Mordenkainen’s Cube</em> to make them a <em>magnificent mansion</em>, and they pile in to go to sleep.</p><p></p><p>They’re bone tired.</p><p></p><p>…to be continued…</p><p></p><p></p><p>* After this description, Ernie’s player <strong>kidcthulhu</strong> uttered: “One does not simply wind-walk into Mordor!”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sagiro, post: 5450696, member: 726"] [I][b]Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 324[/b][/I] [b][I]Overland Flight[/I][/b] “Will you be staying long, then? Maximum allowable time?” The goblinoid creature Gibbil, caretaker of Cayyat, bounces on his toes, hands folded behind his back. “Probably,” says Grey Wolf. “I suppose you’ll be wanting the rooms made up? One for each of you? Any special instructions?” Flicker asks if they have a smoking room. Morningstar requests a bedroom without lamps, candles or other lights. Gibbil scuttles off. Cayyat’s laboratory, presumably designed and stocked by Cor Kek, is magnificent, putting to shame the Company’s basement operation in the Greenhouse. The glassware is enchanted to be nigh-indestructible, the reagents are perfectly preserved and in abundant supply, and everything is meticulously labeled. The party gets down to business, scribing scrolls, brewing potions, crafting wands, improving armor, and copying spells. There are no spell-books in the library, though most of the tomes touch on the theory and history of necromancy. The party leaves them alone, though all are intrigued by a heavy metal door at the back behind the westernmost stack. It’s locked, but that proves little impediment to Flicker, who springs the door open in less than a minute. He pulls it open, and the entire Company feels like they’ve been punched in the gut by a [i]Bigby’s fist[/i]. Flicker blacks out and drops to the floor like an empty puppet. Ernie quickly casts [i]magic circle vs. evil[/i] and hurries forward until Flicker is in its area. Flicker groans and gets to his knees, squinting through the doorway. Even inside the protective circle, he feels a malign heat pouring out of the small room beyond the door. “Huh,” he says, rubbing his head. “I was so sure it wasn’t trapped.” “It wasn’t,” says Aravis, gesturing. The inside of the room is small, more like a large closet, but the back wall is lined with shelves, holding almost a fifty books, all with black leather spines. The titles are in a strange language. It’s not clear if the palpable evil is coming from one book or all of them. “You know,” says Morningstar, “we could take all of our evil stuff from the Greenhouse and toss it in there.” A few of them crowd into the closet, protected by Ernie’s spell. Kibi casts [i]comprehend languages[/i] and realizes that the books are not technical – philosophy, history, politics – but at least one of them is radiating the overwhelming evil of the Black Goo. Ernie picks up one of the books and carries it gingerly out of the closet, but it burns his hands and he’s obliged to drop it. They replace it using fireplace tongs. “I think the ink in all of those books is Black Goo,” says Aravis. Flicker closes the door, locks it again, and then jimmies with the lock to make it even [i]more[/i] secure. Morningstar casts [i]detect evil[/i], and finds a residual taint that lingers (but is fading rapidly) on Ernie and the fireplace implements. “We’ve made evil tongs,” says Grey Wolf. “Lovely.” /*/ Weeks pass, relatively speaking. Stuff gets made. The Company enjoys swimming in the warm lake at the bottom of the hill, and going for walks through the surrounding woods. Flicker busies himself by removing the many black circles that have been mounted, drawn, and etched into the walls around the lodge. When the two months are nearly up, the party gathers in the large main room, drinking tea (served by the ever-attentive Gibbil) and contemplating their next move. They have rolled out their map of Kivia again onto a long table, the corners weighted down with plates. “Here’s my theory,” says Dranko, puffing on a Blacktallow cigar. “I think I know where the portal to their world is, inside those trenches. It was put there by Drosh, right? And Drosh isn’t stupid. So it’s not close to the edge, because someone might stumble upon it. He wanted to give his undead guardians a chance to protect it.” “So,” says Aravis, “you’re saying that it’s in the middle? That’s hardly…” “No!” Dranko interrupts. “He wouldn’t put it in the exact center, because he’d know that’s what [i]everyone[/i] would think. That spot’s probably trapped. It must be [i]near[/i] the center, but not exactly. So we go there, near the center, and listen for the sounds of fighting.” Flicker scratches his head. “How do we know where the center is?” “I don’t have to think of everything, you know.” Grey Wolf smiles. “I like the part about listening for the sound of fighting.” “Anyhow,” Dranko continues, “I’ve made everything I’m going to make, and you can only pee in the lake so many times before you get bored.” The others stare at him. “Which is zero times,” Dranko hastily amends. Gibbil bids the party a fond farewell, and seems extraordinarily pleased that his guests also wish him well. “Good luck with your quest! I hope to see you again before long.” They step out of Cayyat and onto the Greenhouse roof. Dranko has two months of beard (not having shaved while on hiatus) and uses his [i]robe of blending[/i] to make himself look shabby and tattered before re-entering the Greenhouse. Eddings looks at him, blinks once, and comments dryly, “Ah. I see you’re going in disguise.” Ernie laughs. “Dranko, were you expecting to disconcert Eddings? I don’t think that’s possible at this point.” Eddings chuckles and nods. “What is the next item on your agenda, if I might ask?” Dranko reverts to his normal look. “We’re going to fly to the far corner of Kivia, where our enemies have an army of undead that’s going to pry open the world and let the Emperor through. We’re going to find them and stop them.” Eddings blinks again. “Is that likely? And soon?” “Yes, and yes,” says Grey Wolf. Eddings nods. “So, you’ll be the saving the world as usual. Very good.” The party briefly discusses [i]teleportation[/i] destinations. There are three possible options, all of which are about equidistant from where the ravines are marked on their map. They could appear in the Jungle of Dreams, or the halfling town of Victory in Appleseed, but they decide upon the desolate plains of Branoi to north-eastern Kivia, since that’s marginally closer. After a last farewell to Eddings, Aravis casts [i]greater teleport[/i] and in an instant they’re standing in a bleak and barren land. It’s cold, and dark, and they realize that this is still the very same day as their battle with Cor Kek! It was already late afternoon when they entered Cayyat, and the [i]teleport[/i] has moved them several hours forward. Still, they’re well rested, and can navigate by starlight. Wind whistles over the rocks and scrub. There are no blood foxes in sight. Grey Wolf notices that Flicker isn’t wearing his armor. “Oh, right,” says Flicker. “I wanted to see if this would work across the ocean.” He thinks for a second, and instantly his armor is there, on his body, fully buckled and strapped. Dranko had added the [i]called[/i] enchantment to several of their armors while in Cayyat. “What if it failed?” asks Grey Wolf. “I’m sure Aravis would have teleported me back for it.” After some brief argument, they decide to summon the genie Al Tarqoz to cast [i]wind walk[/i]. “It’s not right,” says Ernie. “He’s like a slave.” Flicker disagrees. “It’s nothing like that! We let him go back where he comes from, every time!” Aravis uses the ring, and the blue-skinned genie appears before them. Just as he did the last time they called upon his services, he lays down a hand of cards. “Ha! This time there won’t be any… uh…” “Good hand,” says Aravis, as the cards flutter to the snow-dusted earth. “Probably was a winner.” Al Tarqoz composes himself. “Ah, my most munificent master! I’m certain that you have a fine explanation for ONCE AGAIN summoning me away from a game I was about to win, this time on a hand that was going to earn back many of my possessions and a good deal of my dignity?” “That wasn’t the same game, was it?” asks Kibi. “When we summon you, is time passing for you?” “No, it was not the same game. And yes, in my homeland, time is passing right now, I assure you. I’m certain that my friends and business associates are assuming that NOTHING untoward could be going on regarding this hand of cards.” “They [i]do[/i] know you’re a genie, don’t they?” asks Aravis. “Oh yes. I’m sure they will accept all of this without question. Now, how can I serve you?” “We’d like you to cast [i]wind walk[/i],” says Aravis. “And we’re sorry!” Ernie adds. Al Tarqoz smiles. “I exist merely but to do your bidding, my most benevolent master.” He casts his spell, and when Aravis assures him they need nothing more, the genie scoops up the cards, sighs, and vanishes.” “He’s really pissy,” says Dranko. Morningstar sighs. “ You would be too, if someone kept summoning you.” /*/ For many hours, the bleak landscape of north-eastern Kivia rolls by beneath them. The sun rises, struggling to spread its thin, cloud-filtered light over the cold stone ground. Kibi endures the long airborne journey with stoicism, though he envies Scree safely tucked away in his [i]familiar pocket[/i]. The northern edge of the of the Stongeguards approaches, jagged snow-capped peaks jutting into the bitter air. The mountain range is wide as well, stretching twenty miles west to east. They are about half way across, flying high above the mountaintops, when they start to feel discomfort. Three minutes and three miles later, it has grown worse, and also quite recognizable. It’s the distress they felt in the locked closet of Cayyat, and in the presence of the black book in Kallor, and the Black Goo from Het Branoi. By the time the Company has reached the edge of the mountains, they are having trouble progressing. The evil emanating from – [i]somewhere out there[/i] – is like a psychic headwind. Figuring that the source of this is at ground level, they angle upwards, and so are able to make more lateral progress without the radiating evil become overwhelming. Eventually they see, far down below, what’s almost certainly the source: a black spot, like a huge shadow on the ground. It might be an enormous crater, or a flat-black lake. There are no clouds in this part of the sky, which gives them a decent view, and given their current altitude the black blotch must be dozens of miles across. Even thousands of feet above the ground, the Company, quite literally, cannot bring themselves to fly directly over the black crater. Evil is blasting upward from it like heat from a volcano. Aravis briefly wonders if he’s seeing Naslund, the Gods’ necropolis from one of his Maze visions. He rightly discards the notion. Kibi thinks this might be the thorn in the side of Abernia, of which he once dreamed. They decide to backtrack and go around the distant evil spot, mightily disturbed that they can feel it so powerfully, miles in the air. “Why in the world aren’t there any [i]good[/i] places in the world like that,” Dranko grumbles. The party descends to a lower altitude once they have given the evil crater a wide enough berth. The terrain is, if anything, becoming more bleak and lifeless. There are no streams, no vegetation, so signs of natural wilderness.* Three hours after leaving the Black Crater of Evil behind them, they spy a large patch of mist down below, at ground level. It’s probably about a thousand yards on a side, vaguely square-ish in shape, and rises fifty feet from the ground. Dranko looks for signs that it’s roiling, and sees none. “It’s so dry here,” says Ernie. “How can there be mist? It’s not natural!” They swoop down and fly into the mist, and it’s not damp inside, though it is chilly. It’s a thick fog, obscuring their vision beyond five feet or so, and making the Company nearly invisible in their gaseous form. They’d been warned that the ravines beneath the mist would be shielded from divinations, though their [i]telepathic bond[/i] stays active as they probe the white vapors. When they are convinced that there’s nothing interesting inside this patch of mist (and have found the ground to be unblemished by trenches, ravines, or anything like them), they fly back up out of the haze and continue onward at high altitude. A few minutes later they see more patches of fog, varying greatly in size. The smallest are no more than thirty feet in diameter, while the largest they see is at least twenty miles on a side. None of them show any signs of movement within; there is no breeze, and the areas of mist lay like unmoving shrouds on a dead landscape. It is clear that they are unnatural; while they don’t have sharp edges, they are all of a uniform height, and give the impression of being spell-effects like [i]obscuring mist[/i]. They form an archipelago of cloud islands in a sea of blasted rock. Then, ahead of them, they see the largest patch of mist by far. It extends past the edges of their vision in all outward directions. Another hour of scouting shows that this block of fog is almost a hundred miles on a side, in a rough square. Like all the others, it rises to a height of fifty feet from ground level. Beyond it are more smaller patches, but this is clearly the largest. Flying low over the top of it, the party sees no sign of movement within, nor hears any sounds. Aravis decides that they should examine the ground along the southern edge of the mist – the side that faces Black Bay. They drop down to near ground level, though Dranko decides to test the fog again and flies into its interior. His connection with the others over the mind-link is cut off when he descends about fifteen feet into the fog. Interesting! They land on the ground. There are no footprints, but they do find what they were looking for – bits of bone flakes and fragments scattered among the stones. After some more scouting, they find that there’s a swath of ground, several hundred feet wide, littered with tiny bone chips. It seems as though a large skeletal army did in fact pass this way, coming from the bay and vanishing into the enormous cloud of mist. Aravis picks up the largest fragment he can find, and casts [i]vision[/i]. He guesses that he’ll be unable to divine the undead currently, and so poses the question: “How long ago did the undead pass this spot?” The universe answers him: [i][b]Six and a half days.[/b][/i] “That’s quite a head start,” says Grey Wolf. Aravis does some quick math in his head. If the bone army is moving four miles an hour, and the mist simply covers a big open space, the army could have easily covered the whole thing in a week. But if the hidden ravines are labyrinthine enough, it could take months to explore them all. They’ve now been traveling and scouting for almost 13 hours. Before sleeping, they split up, and spend another three hours skirting the entire perimeter of the fog bank in two groups. They meet on the far side, and confirm that neither group has seen any more bone chips. Cor Kek's army has gone in, but it hasn't come out again unless it left in the exact place it went in. Finally, Aravis [i]teleports[/i] them back to where they started. Grey Wolf uses his [i]Mordenkainen’s Cube[/i] to make them a [i]magnificent mansion[/i], and they pile in to go to sleep. They’re bone tired. …to be continued… * After this description, Ernie’s player [b]kidcthulhu[/b] uttered: “One does not simply wind-walk into Mordor!” [/QUOTE]
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Sagiro's Story Hour: The FINAL Adventures of Abernathy's Company (FINISHED 7/3/14)
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