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The Fall of Civilization
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 4787217" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>I’d just like to mention that, for the events in this post, the party was 6th-7th level- and only three pcs were present for the fight. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Loud cursing awakens the party. Heimall cries, “He got away!”</p><p></p><p>The empty shackles that had held Hyswell the Bitter tell the tale immediately. “He stepped through the Feywild and escaped,” groans Ligir. </p><p></p><p>“He couldn’t have gotten too far,” says Vann-La. “We’d better move fast!”</p><p></p><p>Quickly, the party looks for the architect. He is not on the roof, nor is there any sign of him over the edges of the peak. The party descends into the building’s basement, following a flight of sturdy stone steps hewn into the mountain’s top. Hkatha and Iggy provide some light via their arcane cantrips, while Torinn’s <em>lantern of revelation</em> sheds more light. The basement is large, seemingly larger than the entire upper level of the architect’s adopted home. One end seems to have some kind of opening to the sky- stars are visible. There is no immediate sign of Hyswell the Bitter.</p><p></p><p>As the party heads towards the opening, Heimall notes that the ceiling has roots descending into it from above. <em>That’s odd,</em> he thinks, <em>there weren’t any plants on the top of the mountain.</em> </p><p></p><p>The party reaches the edge of the opening- and, to their surprise, it is an opening from the earth into an area screened by massive roots, some as big around as Heimall’s thigh. Rocks and earth mix with a skein of moss and root to form a shell-like covering over the pit that the heroes are in, and when they climb out, they find themselves- amazingly- on a limb of a tree of such majestic size that it cannot possibly be of the natural world. Its lower branches are as thick as a city road. Its girth is greater than that of most inns. </p><p></p><p>“Wow,” breathes Vann-La.</p><p></p><p><em>The Feywild,</em> thinks Ligir. <em>Somehow, we’ve transitioned over. Somehow, we must have gone through a portal, or perhaps experienced a worldfall.</em></p><p></p><p>“This is amazing,” says Heimall. “Iggy- is this where you elves come from?”</p><p></p><p>“Eladrin,” sighs Ligir. “Yes, although I’ve never been in this area before.”</p><p></p><p>“So you don’t really know your way around here?” </p><p></p><p>“Not really,” the wizard confirms. “But I am looking for someone here.”</p><p></p><p>Loridell cocks her head. “How’s that?”</p><p></p><p>“A black unicorn. An angry one, or something.”</p><p></p><p>“How,” asks Kratos, “did you get a unicorn mad at you?”</p><p></p><p>“He’s not mad at me. He’s mad about something else, or at least he seems to be. I hope,” Ligir adds, “that he’s mad about the Six-Fingered Hand. I think he wants to talk to me.”</p><p></p><p>“What, is the Hand here too?” asks Hkatha. </p><p></p><p>“No. I mean- hmm. I don’t know. They could be. The Feywild has plenty of goblins in it.”</p><p></p><p>“Maybe we should ask someone, if we can find anyone. But more pressingly,” Heimall says, “we need to find Hyswell the Bitter.”</p><p></p><p>“Hello!” chirps a high-pitched voice.</p><p></p><p>Perched above the party is a two foot long dragon with bright purple and green markings and colorful butterfly wings. “Hello,” Iggy replies to it.</p><p></p><p>“You’re strangers,” the small dragon states.</p><p></p><p>“Yep, sure are,” Heimall answers. “I’m Heimall. What’s your name?”</p><p></p><p>“Smiley!”</p><p></p><p>“Well, hello, Smiley, pleased to meet you,” Iggy says.</p><p></p><p>“Likewise. You look like you’re from the world, mostly.” The faerie dragon winks at Iggy. “Except you, of course. What are you guys doing here?”</p><p></p><p>Heimall speaks up again. “Well, Smiley, we’re looking for someone that we think came through here recently. An eladrin. He’s a criminal, and we don’t want him to cause you guys any trouble, so we want to catch him.”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t like locking people up. What has this criminal done? What’s his name?”</p><p></p><p>“He’s called Hyswell the Bitter-“</p><p></p><p>“Hyswell!” exclaims Smiley. “Oh my!”</p><p></p><p>“You know of him, then?”</p><p></p><p>“Oh, yes. Oh, my. Oh, dear. He’s trouble.”</p><p></p><p>“You’ll help us, then?” </p><p></p><p>“Haven’t seen him.” </p><p></p><p>“Can you help us look for him?”</p><p></p><p>“Nope, busy, not getting involved. In fact, I need to get going-“</p><p></p><p>“Maybe,” Iggy says desperately, “you know someone else that could help? You wouldn’t have to get involved yourself, you could just put us in touch-“</p><p></p><p>The faerie dragon hesitates. “All right,” he finally says, “but only because it’s Hyswell.”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Smiley leads to a brownie at the base of the tree. She is twice as tall as a cat, with ruffled brown hair and cute little overalls that seem to be made of leaf and bark. When Smiley mentions Hyswell, she gets as frightened as he is, although our heroes manage to coax a further lead from her after a few moments of persuasion and gentle bribery. “I didn’t see where he went,” she admits, “but come with me.” She leads them to the base of the massive tree that they are on and knocks on the trunk. A moment later, a beautiful dryad steps forth. When she sees the party she almost flees back into the tree, but Magda manages to convince her to speak to the party. She tells them that Hyswell had indeed passed- and then a look of horror passes over her face.</p><p></p><p>Iggy feels something too- an unpleasant uncleanness stains his awareness suddenly. “What’s happening?” he gasps.</p><p></p><p>“Hyswell,” says the dryad, horror staining her voice, her eyes. “He’s performing a terrible ritual. Quickly!”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Down a long, shallow hill; across a narrow brook that sings merrily along its path, flanked by pink and yellow flowers; up the other hillside framing the brook, through a screen of magnificent bushes and brambles covered with bright red berries; the sound of chanting ahead; and then the hill’s top. </p><p></p><p>A circle of menhirs, mossy and glistening in the morning dew, surrounds a slab of stone that Hyswell has used for a makeshift altar. A fairy’s corpse is stretched upon it, a spreading pool of blood beneath. And, towering in the circle of stones, newly arrived in response to the awful ritual performed, stands a terrible demon. Its carries itself in the mocking semblance of a humanoid gait, yet its features are those of a diseased vulture covered in buboes and chancres. </p><p></p><p>“Fools!” Hyswell cackles. “Now you’ll die!” </p><p></p><p>The ground below Vann-La and Heimall, even though natural, responds to the architect’s commands and begins grasping at their legs. “Can’t move!” cries Heimall, while Vann-La manages to press forward slowly. But then Hyswell <em>fey steps</em>* over behind the two of them and shrieks, “Slay them!!”</p><p></p><p>The demon has other ideas. It laughs and launches itself after the architect, clawing at him. Hyswell’s eyes widen in fear. “NO!” he shrieks, but the demon only laughs. Clearly, the mad eladrin does not have the control over it that he had wished. </p><p></p><p>Vann-La cries, “You bastard! You sacrificed a pixie for this??” He hurls a javelin at Hyswell.</p><p></p><p>”Help me!” Hyswell cries desperately to our heroes.</p><p></p><p>“It’s too late for that,” Vann-La intones. She misses Hyswell with another javelin, then draws her hammer and charges forward, smashing him in the jaw with it. Bone and brain crunch. “Enough of you!” she cries fiercely. </p><p></p><p>Then the demon slashes her as it flies by, ripping a gouge in her armor- and her shoulder. Blood trickles down her side and pain blazes up in her. “So much for avoiding a fight with this thing!” she declares. </p><p></p><p>Heimall, meanwhile, remains trapped by the <em>grasping floor</em>. He struggles, but can’t seem to get himself free. “Damn it!” he shouts aloud in frustration. “Vann-La, <em>GIT!!</em>”</p><p></p><p>Iggy keeps his distance, landing an <em>acid arrow</em> but missing thereafter with spell after spell. <em>Magic missile, scorching burst, shock sphere-</em> all fail to harm the terrible demon, which has settled into a pattern of clawing at Vann-La while she presses it back with a <em>tide of iron.</em> It issues a <em>stunning screech,</em> and both Vann-La and Heimall reel back, clutching their heads. </p><p></p><p>Iggy <em>dimension doors</em> into harm’s way. “Hey ugly!” he shouts, drinking a healing potion, “Over here!”</p><p></p><p>The vrock just laughs a hideous croaking laugh and pounces on the helpless Vann-La, tearing a deep wound in her chest. She screams in pain.</p><p></p><p>“All right, bird-face, don’t take <em>me</em> seriously, huh?” Grimly, Iggy pulls out and loads the orcish sunpowder pistol that he took as loot from the pistoleers so long ago. </p><p></p><p>Both Heimall and Vann-La recover from the screech. Heimall shouts, “Don’t give up, soldier! The Empire needs warriors like you!” </p><p></p><p>Gritting her teeth through the pain, Vann-La nods. His words inspire her, keeping her in the vicious fight. She hammers at it, landing a blow but missing with more. <em>This thing is tough!</em> she thinks. Then she sees her chance, and moves to flank it so that she can launch a <em>flanking assault</em> on the demon. She pounds it, her hammer slipping off the thing’s tough chest but still doing damage. Something inside it snaps, and suddenly a great cloud of spores puffs out around the monster! She and Heimall gag and cough, barely able to act! Dazed, they fall back as the demon unleashes a terrific flurry of blows at Heimall. </p><p></p><p>”Black unicorn, aid us!” the Kree cries, as she is nearly driven to her knees by the power of the demonic assault. </p><p></p><p>Heimall finally tears free of the <em>grasping floor</em> and rushes to Vann-La’s aid. He hits with a <em>viper strike,</em> and the demon screams in pain. It is growing weaker- but it is tearing them apart. </p><p></p><p>Then, suddenly, a loud <strong>BOOM</strong> echoes across the hill as Iggy fires his gun. </p><p></p><p>Unfortunately, he misses. </p><p></p><p>Cursing, he swears to himself, <em>As soon as I have a chance, I’m going to learn how to use this damned thing better!</em>** He reloads and fires again, but misses. “Damn it!” he shouts aloud, and draws his wand, switching to a more traditional technique. He begins firing <em>magic missiles</em>- and continues to miss. Shaking his head in disbelief at how off his aim is, he thinks, <em>It must be fatigue.</em></p><p></p><p>Heimall keeps missing. He is swearing too, loud and long military curses that would make a civilian blush. Then the vrock screeches again, and he isn’t doing anything at all but clutch his ears, stunned by the thunderous cry. </p><p></p><p>Not so, Vann-La. She stands toe-to-toe with the beast, swinging her hammer at it over and over. It isn’t that her blows don’t connect; they just often can’t manage to harm it. She has dealt it several punishing blows, however. Panting, she pauses to catch her <em>second wind</em>. With Heimall momentarily out of the fight...</p><p></p><p>The vrock nearly takes her head off when she overextends herself trying to slam the hammer into its knee. She stumbles, seeing stars, and swings blindly, missing. Blinking blood from her eyes, she spits copper-tasting phlegm. </p><p></p><p>“Vann-La!” cries Heimall, having regained his wits much more quickly than he regained his mobility. “<em>GIT!!</em>”</p><p></p><p>Vann-La swings again, this time connecting with the demon’s head! It shakes itself, clearly badly wounded after that blow. Vann-La staggers and regains her balance, and Heimall hurls himself aside, distracting the vrock and pulling a <em>guileful switch</em>. </p><p></p><p>Vann-La swings again, but this time the vrock bats her hammer away as it snarls at Heimall. </p><p></p><p>“<em>GIT!!</em>” Heimall screams at Vann-La. </p><p></p><p>The warhammer slams up into the vrock’s head again, knocking it to its knees.</p><p></p><p>“<em>GIT!!</em>” Heimall screams one more time.</p><p></p><p>And the warhammer comes down again, smashing the demon’s head open, spraying brains and blood everywhere. The vrock immediately begins to hiss and bubble, dissolving into acrid-smelling green goo that smokes and pops. </p><p></p><p>Our heroes collapse onto the ground, gasping for breath. </p><p></p><p><em>But we’re alive.</em></p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> Total War!!</p><p></p><p>*More properly, when in the Feywild, a <em>fey step</em> is a <em>world step</em>, wherein the creature steps momentarily through the material world. </p><p></p><p>**In other words, take the necessary weapon proficiency feat.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 4787217, member: 1210"] I’d just like to mention that, for the events in this post, the party was 6th-7th level- and only three pcs were present for the fight. *** Loud cursing awakens the party. Heimall cries, “He got away!” The empty shackles that had held Hyswell the Bitter tell the tale immediately. “He stepped through the Feywild and escaped,” groans Ligir. “He couldn’t have gotten too far,” says Vann-La. “We’d better move fast!” Quickly, the party looks for the architect. He is not on the roof, nor is there any sign of him over the edges of the peak. The party descends into the building’s basement, following a flight of sturdy stone steps hewn into the mountain’s top. Hkatha and Iggy provide some light via their arcane cantrips, while Torinn’s [i]lantern of revelation[/i] sheds more light. The basement is large, seemingly larger than the entire upper level of the architect’s adopted home. One end seems to have some kind of opening to the sky- stars are visible. There is no immediate sign of Hyswell the Bitter. As the party heads towards the opening, Heimall notes that the ceiling has roots descending into it from above. [i]That’s odd,[/i] he thinks, [i]there weren’t any plants on the top of the mountain.[/i] The party reaches the edge of the opening- and, to their surprise, it is an opening from the earth into an area screened by massive roots, some as big around as Heimall’s thigh. Rocks and earth mix with a skein of moss and root to form a shell-like covering over the pit that the heroes are in, and when they climb out, they find themselves- amazingly- on a limb of a tree of such majestic size that it cannot possibly be of the natural world. Its lower branches are as thick as a city road. Its girth is greater than that of most inns. “Wow,” breathes Vann-La. [i]The Feywild,[/i] thinks Ligir. [i]Somehow, we’ve transitioned over. Somehow, we must have gone through a portal, or perhaps experienced a worldfall.[/i] “This is amazing,” says Heimall. “Iggy- is this where you elves come from?” “Eladrin,” sighs Ligir. “Yes, although I’ve never been in this area before.” “So you don’t really know your way around here?” “Not really,” the wizard confirms. “But I am looking for someone here.” Loridell cocks her head. “How’s that?” “A black unicorn. An angry one, or something.” “How,” asks Kratos, “did you get a unicorn mad at you?” “He’s not mad at me. He’s mad about something else, or at least he seems to be. I hope,” Ligir adds, “that he’s mad about the Six-Fingered Hand. I think he wants to talk to me.” “What, is the Hand here too?” asks Hkatha. “No. I mean- hmm. I don’t know. They could be. The Feywild has plenty of goblins in it.” “Maybe we should ask someone, if we can find anyone. But more pressingly,” Heimall says, “we need to find Hyswell the Bitter.” “Hello!” chirps a high-pitched voice. Perched above the party is a two foot long dragon with bright purple and green markings and colorful butterfly wings. “Hello,” Iggy replies to it. “You’re strangers,” the small dragon states. “Yep, sure are,” Heimall answers. “I’m Heimall. What’s your name?” “Smiley!” “Well, hello, Smiley, pleased to meet you,” Iggy says. “Likewise. You look like you’re from the world, mostly.” The faerie dragon winks at Iggy. “Except you, of course. What are you guys doing here?” Heimall speaks up again. “Well, Smiley, we’re looking for someone that we think came through here recently. An eladrin. He’s a criminal, and we don’t want him to cause you guys any trouble, so we want to catch him.” “I don’t like locking people up. What has this criminal done? What’s his name?” “He’s called Hyswell the Bitter-“ “Hyswell!” exclaims Smiley. “Oh my!” “You know of him, then?” “Oh, yes. Oh, my. Oh, dear. He’s trouble.” “You’ll help us, then?” “Haven’t seen him.” “Can you help us look for him?” “Nope, busy, not getting involved. In fact, I need to get going-“ “Maybe,” Iggy says desperately, “you know someone else that could help? You wouldn’t have to get involved yourself, you could just put us in touch-“ The faerie dragon hesitates. “All right,” he finally says, “but only because it’s Hyswell.” *** Smiley leads to a brownie at the base of the tree. She is twice as tall as a cat, with ruffled brown hair and cute little overalls that seem to be made of leaf and bark. When Smiley mentions Hyswell, she gets as frightened as he is, although our heroes manage to coax a further lead from her after a few moments of persuasion and gentle bribery. “I didn’t see where he went,” she admits, “but come with me.” She leads them to the base of the massive tree that they are on and knocks on the trunk. A moment later, a beautiful dryad steps forth. When she sees the party she almost flees back into the tree, but Magda manages to convince her to speak to the party. She tells them that Hyswell had indeed passed- and then a look of horror passes over her face. Iggy feels something too- an unpleasant uncleanness stains his awareness suddenly. “What’s happening?” he gasps. “Hyswell,” says the dryad, horror staining her voice, her eyes. “He’s performing a terrible ritual. Quickly!” *** Down a long, shallow hill; across a narrow brook that sings merrily along its path, flanked by pink and yellow flowers; up the other hillside framing the brook, through a screen of magnificent bushes and brambles covered with bright red berries; the sound of chanting ahead; and then the hill’s top. A circle of menhirs, mossy and glistening in the morning dew, surrounds a slab of stone that Hyswell has used for a makeshift altar. A fairy’s corpse is stretched upon it, a spreading pool of blood beneath. And, towering in the circle of stones, newly arrived in response to the awful ritual performed, stands a terrible demon. Its carries itself in the mocking semblance of a humanoid gait, yet its features are those of a diseased vulture covered in buboes and chancres. “Fools!” Hyswell cackles. “Now you’ll die!” The ground below Vann-La and Heimall, even though natural, responds to the architect’s commands and begins grasping at their legs. “Can’t move!” cries Heimall, while Vann-La manages to press forward slowly. But then Hyswell [i]fey steps[/i]* over behind the two of them and shrieks, “Slay them!!” The demon has other ideas. It laughs and launches itself after the architect, clawing at him. Hyswell’s eyes widen in fear. “NO!” he shrieks, but the demon only laughs. Clearly, the mad eladrin does not have the control over it that he had wished. Vann-La cries, “You bastard! You sacrificed a pixie for this??” He hurls a javelin at Hyswell. ”Help me!” Hyswell cries desperately to our heroes. “It’s too late for that,” Vann-La intones. She misses Hyswell with another javelin, then draws her hammer and charges forward, smashing him in the jaw with it. Bone and brain crunch. “Enough of you!” she cries fiercely. Then the demon slashes her as it flies by, ripping a gouge in her armor- and her shoulder. Blood trickles down her side and pain blazes up in her. “So much for avoiding a fight with this thing!” she declares. Heimall, meanwhile, remains trapped by the [i]grasping floor[/i]. He struggles, but can’t seem to get himself free. “Damn it!” he shouts aloud in frustration. “Vann-La, [i]GIT!![/i]” Iggy keeps his distance, landing an [i]acid arrow[/i] but missing thereafter with spell after spell. [i]Magic missile, scorching burst, shock sphere-[/i] all fail to harm the terrible demon, which has settled into a pattern of clawing at Vann-La while she presses it back with a [i]tide of iron.[/i] It issues a [i]stunning screech,[/i] and both Vann-La and Heimall reel back, clutching their heads. Iggy [i]dimension doors[/i] into harm’s way. “Hey ugly!” he shouts, drinking a healing potion, “Over here!” The vrock just laughs a hideous croaking laugh and pounces on the helpless Vann-La, tearing a deep wound in her chest. She screams in pain. “All right, bird-face, don’t take [i]me[/i] seriously, huh?” Grimly, Iggy pulls out and loads the orcish sunpowder pistol that he took as loot from the pistoleers so long ago. Both Heimall and Vann-La recover from the screech. Heimall shouts, “Don’t give up, soldier! The Empire needs warriors like you!” Gritting her teeth through the pain, Vann-La nods. His words inspire her, keeping her in the vicious fight. She hammers at it, landing a blow but missing with more. [i]This thing is tough![/i] she thinks. Then she sees her chance, and moves to flank it so that she can launch a [i]flanking assault[/i] on the demon. She pounds it, her hammer slipping off the thing’s tough chest but still doing damage. Something inside it snaps, and suddenly a great cloud of spores puffs out around the monster! She and Heimall gag and cough, barely able to act! Dazed, they fall back as the demon unleashes a terrific flurry of blows at Heimall. ”Black unicorn, aid us!” the Kree cries, as she is nearly driven to her knees by the power of the demonic assault. Heimall finally tears free of the [i]grasping floor[/i] and rushes to Vann-La’s aid. He hits with a [i]viper strike,[/i] and the demon screams in pain. It is growing weaker- but it is tearing them apart. Then, suddenly, a loud [b]BOOM[/b] echoes across the hill as Iggy fires his gun. Unfortunately, he misses. Cursing, he swears to himself, [i]As soon as I have a chance, I’m going to learn how to use this damned thing better![/i]** He reloads and fires again, but misses. “Damn it!” he shouts aloud, and draws his wand, switching to a more traditional technique. He begins firing [i]magic missiles[/i]- and continues to miss. Shaking his head in disbelief at how off his aim is, he thinks, [i]It must be fatigue.[/i] Heimall keeps missing. He is swearing too, loud and long military curses that would make a civilian blush. Then the vrock screeches again, and he isn’t doing anything at all but clutch his ears, stunned by the thunderous cry. Not so, Vann-La. She stands toe-to-toe with the beast, swinging her hammer at it over and over. It isn’t that her blows don’t connect; they just often can’t manage to harm it. She has dealt it several punishing blows, however. Panting, she pauses to catch her [i]second wind[/i]. With Heimall momentarily out of the fight... The vrock nearly takes her head off when she overextends herself trying to slam the hammer into its knee. She stumbles, seeing stars, and swings blindly, missing. Blinking blood from her eyes, she spits copper-tasting phlegm. “Vann-La!” cries Heimall, having regained his wits much more quickly than he regained his mobility. “[i]GIT!![/i]” Vann-La swings again, this time connecting with the demon’s head! It shakes itself, clearly badly wounded after that blow. Vann-La staggers and regains her balance, and Heimall hurls himself aside, distracting the vrock and pulling a [i]guileful switch[/i]. Vann-La swings again, but this time the vrock bats her hammer away as it snarls at Heimall. “[i]GIT!![/i]” Heimall screams at Vann-La. The warhammer slams up into the vrock’s head again, knocking it to its knees. “[i]GIT!![/i]” Heimall screams one more time. And the warhammer comes down again, smashing the demon’s head open, spraying brains and blood everywhere. The vrock immediately begins to hiss and bubble, dissolving into acrid-smelling green goo that smokes and pops. Our heroes collapse onto the ground, gasping for breath. [i]But we’re alive.[/i] [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] Total War!! *More properly, when in the Feywild, a [i]fey step[/i] is a [i]world step[/i], wherein the creature steps momentarily through the material world. **In other words, take the necessary weapon proficiency feat. [/QUOTE]
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