The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions

[Jon Potter]

eh, i caught up with the updates.

I hate when that happens, now I have to wait for new ones.

Well, luckily for you, I'm very routine about posting every week. There are no long droughts in your future.

Thanks a bunch for reading and commenting. Sorry about interfering with your work, though.

Do you kill so many PCs on purpose so you can try another one (since you mentioned this is kind of testing adventure) or is it just sub-optimal PCs vs. some hard modules?

Good question. Do I really kill that many PCs? Everyone in the group is on at least their second character, but it doesn't seem egregious to me. Of course I am the DM, so I could be wrong. Maybe one of my players could chime in on that one.

As far as why they die, the answer is simply: the dice said so.

I love telling this story, and I want the players to succeed in order to further that story. However, if a roll a critical hit that drops one of them, then they drop. This is a game and luck (or lack thereof) is a part of the game. I really don't believe in excessive fudging; it cheapens the game for me. I hate it when a DM I'm playing with does it and so I don't do it when I'm "behind the screen".

I absolutely do not go out of my way to kill any PCs, but I absolutely do let the chips fall where they may.

What races are faens? Where can one find the description of pixie (and the rest) as a player race? Or you just put some classes on monster manual desc?

Faens are from Monte Cook's Arcana Unearthed/Arcana Evolved book. Lela used those rules without modification (except where I had to translate to the standard PHB spells). She worked out quite well. Flight wasn't as big a game breaker as I feared it would be and her tiny size was both a blessing and a curse for the party.

Using the MM pixie wouldn't pass my 'balance test' without a debilitating level adjustment. Oddly enough, there are several current PCs in the group with debilitating level adjustments. Including one who can fly.

You can consider that a teaser.

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

Oddly enough, there are several current PCs in the group with debilitating level adjustments. Including one who can fly.

You can consider that a teaser.

A Vrock?

A Geomancer?

A Fiendish mummy with the winged template?

An aerodynamic kobold thrown by a storm giant with the far shot feat?

 

[The Dark Elf]

Do you kill so many PCs on purpose so you can try another one (since you mentioned this is kind of testing adventure) or is it just sub-optimal PCs vs. some hard modules?

If I may be so bold as to offer my two cents on that question as a player in this campaign:

I so badly want to tell you that Jon kills PCs because he is an evil bastard. (Which he is.)

But, you know what? If he didn't "kill so many PCs", I'm pretty sure that our group would have dissolved long ago. (I am one of the newcomers to the group at a fraction over 6 years.)

It's the simple fact that as a player, I know that I can do anything I want to do... but as in reality, there are consequences. Jon doesn't (often) direct our decisions to fit in with what he planned, and that's what makes everyone in our group feel a certain level of ownership. It isn't us playing in his game.

I'm sure that there are probably subtleties that have had to be perpetrated to dissuade our party (which is a lot like a very dysfunctional family in-game and in real life) from chasing butterflies for a month, but I don't think I could identify more than a sparse handful of times that he's said "nope, can't do that."

I'm not sure if I conveyed my thoughts very clearly, but I hope I got the point across.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #369] The Key of Earth

"Ah, now lookie there. We've got the rune key, ta be sure," Karak sighed, looking in awe at the stone in Morier's tightly clasped fists. "You know, I 'alf expected it to stick to Morier's head like fleece to a lamb. Heh!"

"Okay, Whitey," Huzair called, elbowing Morier. "What do we do with the keys now that we have one?"

"I'm not sure," the albino admitted, taking a hesitant step closer to the pattern of indentations in the center of the room. "I have a desire to place it in this depression here."

"Hold up a minute," the mage suggested, grabbing Morier's arm. "If I cast identify, could I tell what it does?"

"I don't know, Huzair," Morier said again. "This is all new to me too." Karak harrumphed and stepped in front of the eldritch warrior.

"Now I do nae know who said it - maybe t'were the Great Oak - but I think the keys themselves be magical. I do believe the give us power over the elemental assigned to 'em. I say let us regroup 'ere in this chamber. It seems to me that we be safe in 'ere and when we are ready to go, we insert the key into the glowing spot there and we be let out."

"Do you believe then that we cannot pass on to the next test until we've placed the key where it belongs?" Shamalin asked wearily. The place was beginning to take a toll on her spirit.

"Dunno," Karak shrugged. "But I'd like to do a bit o' checkin o' the thing 'fore we go stickin' somewhere it might nae come out of agi'n."

"Morier, let Karak "play" with the key," Ayremac suggested and Huzair quickly interjected.

"Woah! This is some kind of artifact!" he protested. "I don't think it's wise to let the dwarf "play" with it; it's not a beer stein!." Karak glared at the wizard but Ayremac responded smoothly.

"I think these are instruments of good, so no harm will come to him," the holy warrior replied to Huzair before turning his attention once more to Morier. "When he is done, you can place the key in, is that acceptable?"

"I suppose," the eldritch warrior agreed, reluctantly offering the stone to Karak. As soon as it left his hands he missed its reassuring weight. The dwarf looked at the rune-carved rock with awe and Huzair snorted derisively.

"Fine!" he snapped, stalking away to the far side of the chamber. "I have some work to do before the dwarf makes us all blow up or something." He sat down and began pulling his many spellbooks out of his haversack.



Karak fiddled with the key for what seemed like only a few moments to him but felt like an hour to those watching. He couldn't make it do anything, although as Morier had noted, holding the stone filled him with an urge to put it in the depression in the floor. At last he shook his head and relinquished it to the elf.

"I can nae make it do a thing," he scoffed. "Mayhaps we should have the wizard examine it with his magic." But Morier shook his pale head.

"Enough delaying," he said stepping up to the socket set into the floor. He knelt beside the earth rune and carefully lined up the key to the depression. It slid home perfectly, glowed briefly and then faded, leaving no trace of either key or socket. The floor beside the earth rune was seamless.

Morier looked up at the others with the beginnings of fear touching his eyes.

"Did you lose it?" Huzair asked. He sounded perversely as if he hoped that Morier had.

"No. Look," Shamalin urged, pointing at the central shaft sunk into the floor amidst the three remaining sockets. It glowed softly as if light were rising from some unguessable depth. Morier scrambled forward, looking down into the well and light bathed his features, making him squint painfully at first and then shield his eyes altogether as he thrust his arm into the shaft and drew a greatsword forth.

"A sword!?" Huzair spat, exasperated. "All this work and all we get is a stupid sword?"

"NOT JUST A SWORD, SOFT ONE!" a voice thundered from the dull gray weapon. "I AM STONEBLADE, SCION OF EARTH. MIGHTIEST OF THE ELEMENTAL BLADES! SPEAK ILL OF ME AGAIN AND YOU WILL NOT LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO REGRET IT!"

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #370] The Next Step

Jaws dropped all around, and if Morier's grip on the greatsword hadn't galvanized at that moment, he would have dropped it to the ground in shock.

"Sorry, I did not know you could hear me," Huzair replied smoothly, not missing a beat. "I am not used to dealing with relics of great power."

"DO NOT LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN!" the blade thundered.

"Good one, dark wizard!" Karak managed to chuckle. "You've just met the sword and already it knows not to like you!." Huzair shot a withering glance at the dwarf and moved back to his spellbooks, uninterested in yet another sharp pointy thing. Karak, however, felt just the opposite.

"Shaharizod's beard, Morier! You 'ave unearthed an elemental blade. Balazaar talked to me about these once. I do believe they be intelligent weapons with their own mind and, as we all just heard, the ability to speak. It is said they and the wielder form a great bond that cannot just merely be dropped. The wielder can store great power in these weapons. It makes perfect sense to me now: the earth key grants ye spell-like powers over the earth. We can now assume the other keys will do the same, Fire, Water, and Air. These shall surely aid in the fight against Chaos. If only Ledare were here to see this. She would have loved it!"

Morier looked awestruck at the gray stone sword, his mouth gone suddenly dry with excitement. "An elemental blade... Being an earthy, dwarven-type, it makes the most sense for you to be the holder of such an item, Karak."

"Woah! Really!" Karak exclaimed mouth agape and eyes aglitter with longing. "You would give me such a fine weapon? Well I do nae know what to say. I truly be touched."

"Gee Morier, doesn't the dwarf already have a weapon of great power? Why do you want to give away one of the greatest weapons known to man?" Huzair called from across the room. "Since it is intelligent, I am sure it will try to teach you something too."

"And anyway, I have a feeling that it be YOU who the sword chose," Karak added regretfully. "I do nae know if'n it would now e'en allow me to use it. Balazaar mentioned that once a sword chooses its owner it take strong magic to switch the bond. I do nae know perhaps the dark one knows better than I. But me thinks you should keep the sword, choose its edge and use it. Mayhaps one of the other keys be meant for me. Besides me and me Frost Axe ain't done yet. She be magical too, as ye know. Mayhaps if'n one of the tests be cold, I can put that key into the keyhole and we'll see what happens. That'd be what I say! Maybe Aryemac may use the sword?"

"ENOUGH?!?" Stoneblade bellowed. Its voice, like the sound of boulders clashing against one another, echoed around the small chamber. "I AM THE AWESOME SCION OF EARTH! I'LL NOT BE HANDED ABOUT LIKE... SOME COMMON... DOXIE!" Morier's expression seemed even paler as he looked wide-eyed at the greatsword twisting in his hand like a living thing... which, he supposed, in a way it was.

"Hold on! I certainly wasn't trying to pawn you off on anyone!" the eldritch warrior soothed. "I want you. I'll take you and use you and damned straight you're awesome. I just thought perhaps you'd be more comfortable with someone with a natural affinity for stone but if you were meant to be mine... then it was meant to be."

The sword growled skeptically, a sound like gravel being ground inside a fist.

"Stoneblade, it seems that proper etique would warrent introductions," Ayremac stepped in, doffing his helmet and bowing diplomatically as he spoke. "I am Ayremac, Holy Warrior of Umba. I quest along side these able warriors."

"UMBA IS UNKNOWN TO ME!" Stoneblade told him (1). "BUT THERE IS MUCH THAT I DO NOT KNOW!"

"Might I ask, Stoneblade, how is that you came to be here?" Ayremac went on.

"YOU MAY ASK, BUT AS I SAID, THERE IS MUCH THAT I DO NOT KNOW!" the sword replied. "MY BOTHER SCIONS AND I WERE CRAFTED BY THE KEEPERS OF THE GROVE WITH THE HELP OF A CABAL OF DRUIDS AND WARMAGES FOR THE SPECIAL PURPOSE OF RELEASING DRIDANA'S HEART!"

"We are fighting against the rise of Aphyx, and we too seek to free Dridana," the holy warrior explained. "My hope is that your knowledge of the past and those who built this place might help us to complete this quest in one piece."

"MY KNOWLEDGE IS INCOMPLETE, HOLY WARRIOR OF UMBA!" Stoneblade said, and there seemed to be an undertone of regret in the great voice. "BUT I DO KNOW THIS: WITHOUT THE SCIONS OF FIRE, AIR AND WATER, YOUR QUEST TO FREE DRIDANA WILL FAIL!"

Morier again repeated the Water elemental's words - words he'd long ago put to memory: "...we Keepers, Dridana's most powerful servants, were able to craft four keys that would breach Lady Rot's defenses. These keys we hid away in a pocket not unlike the Grove itself, apart from the Green but linked to it. Each key grants its wielder great power over one of the four elements. And each key must be brought to bear to free Dridana's heart. Once the heart is reunited with the body, the Fruitful One will be reborn. And great and terrible shall be her wrath."

"WELL SPOKEN!" Stoneblade said and the blade seemed to thrum with happiness.

"Well we aim to get the other keys soon enough," Karak assured the weapon.

"One down - three to go," Morier added. Looking at the rest of the group and then to the spot where Lela should have been, he couldn't help but wonder if there was a certain dark interpretation to be found deep within those words.



They passed the time in the cramped chamber as best they could. Shamalin's magic kept them fed and watered while Huzair scribed scrolls and used some of the pearls he'd found in the workshop with the screaming corpse to Identify some of the more interesting items they found since stepping through the portal in the back of the cave. Ayremac spent his time tending his armor and praying, Karak worked on his own armor and then Shamalin's.

It was impossible to tell if it was day or night, but Huzair was able to judge the passage of time by how readily he could cast spells and prepare new ones. On what was to them the morning of the third day, Morier roused them briskly and The Order prepared themselves to set off on the chosen pathway: to the Fire node. The heavy wooden door adorned with a Fire rune symbol swung open at Karak's hand revealing nothing but a black void beyond. Clutching Stoneblade firmly in two hands, Morier led the party through, each of them stepping blindly into the darkness... and reconvening on the other side as one. Shamalin felt the immediate sensation that something was wrong, but all attention was commanded by the six-armed creature advancing toward them.

It was huge, standing at least fifteen feet tall and seemingly made entirely of interlocking plates of metal. It was humanoid in general aspect, with two splayed legs supporting an armored torso surmounted by a helmeted head from which two red eyes burned. But its shoulders bristled with arms and each arm brandished a wicked-looking weapon, each one longer than any of them was tall. It strode ponderously forward across a stone bridge that it blocked completely. On the opposite side of the span they could see another door marked with the fire rune.

Shamalin closed her eyes against the apparition seeking the reassuring presence of her goddess, but found only emptiness. She was almost certainly being punished. Or maybe she had been abandoned all together. Her speculation was interrupted by the creature's screech.

"I yield only to the wise warrior!" it bellowed, its voice hollow and lifeless in the space.

For a moment no one moved and the sound of the thing's metallic body sliced through the silence as it worked its numerous body appendages.

"I'll go in first," Karak whispered to Morier and Ayremac. "Hit it on the left side, then you two follow up on the right. Mayhaps we can force it over the-"

"No! Wait!" Shamalin cried out, laying a hand on Karak's arm. "The wise warrior! Don't you get it? The wise warrior knows only to fight when he must."

"What are you suggesting, Shamalin?" Morier asked skeptically.

"Watch," she told him and started walking forward with her sword sheathed and her arms spread wide.

"Shamalin! No!" Ayremac cried and lurched after her, but Morier and Karak restrained him, giving the priestess her chance. She approached the towering monstrosity slowly but deliberately, unnerved by the clatter and hiss of its many limbs above her. Its eyes focused on her intently, but it did not molest her in any way as she walked between its legs and toward the door on the far side.

"Well I'll be damned!" Huzair snorted in disbelief.

The next test was almost as easy.



They stepped through the portal and into a small chamber dominated by an enormous rock worn smooth by time. It was featureless except for two things: a dark hole perhaps a foot across and a bit of poetry carved beside it.

"A gem of legend ye shall find
If to this rock your fate ye bind!
This rock, sought long be knights before
Ye found yourselves at peril's door.
Endure ye now this test of greed
Let will surpass, and sin recede!"​

"Clearly, we need to not be greedy," Ayremac suggested as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Eh?" Karak grunted, fixing the Officer with an appraising eye. "Do nae be so quick to throw away the chance to get a gem! Mayhaps we'll need it to complete the test."

"I think this rock IS the test, Karak," Ayremac explained, patting the huge boulder. Karak harrumphed.

"It says "a gem of legend"!" the dwarf countered looking to the others for support.

"I think Ayremac's right," Morier said. "We need to leave the rock."

"It's a test of greed, Karak," the holy warrior went on. "Do you understand what that means?"

"I understand what ye THINK it means," the dwarf countered and thrust his arm into the hole. "Aye! There's a gem alright! An' she's a big one! I can barely get me hand 'round it!"

"Do not remove it from the rock!" Morier asserted, pressing his hand against Karak's back.

"As much as I'd like to see my cut of a stone that size, I've got to agree with Morier and Mr. Goodie-good," Huzair quipped.

"Please, Karak," Shamalin added and, cursing venomously, the dwarf let the gem stay where it was and drew out his arm.

The door on the far side of the room clicked open.



A wave of energy coursed through each of them as they passed through the portal. Their vision blurred momentarily and they each had the queer sensation of falling rapidly sideways until a heartbeat later their senses snapped back to normal. They found themselves crowded in the middle of a large piece of obsidian floating on a sea of molten lava. Silvery runes glowed along the edges of the obsidian.

It was oppressively hot and a thick sulphurous stench filled the air. Lava bubbled and spewed around them. Dozens of other floating sheets of obsidian dotted the surface of the lava floe, each bobbing 10 to 15 feet from the next nearest piece. Against the haze of the heat, they could all see a bright red glow coming from a sheet of obsidian some 100 feet away.

The air was painful to breath it was so hot, but Huzair grinned devilishly. "I think I could learn to like it here," he said, not looking bothered by the heat in the least.

-----------------------------------------------------

(1) Umba is the newest deity in the pantheon. You may remember someone mentioning that twice in the history of the world gods had been slain. Dridana was the first, "slain" by Aphyx. The second was the Goddess Rhianne, betrothed of Ibrahil the True. She was ripped in half by Ibrahil's nemesis, the God of Murder, and it was her death that spurred Ibrahil to castrate himself in grief. From Rhianne's corpse rose Umba, Judge of the Dead.
Stoneblade was sealed away before Umba's "birth".

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

"Gee Morier, doesn't the dwarf already have a weapon of great power? Why do you want to give away one of the greatest weapons known to man?" Huzair called from across the room. "Since it is intelligent, I am sure it will try to teach you something too."

Sounds like Huzair has a little teifling in him.

I think it would have been highly frustrating for your players to have the earth blade speak slow and methodical like the earth it represents. The fire blade could be passionate, the air blade flighty, and the water blade moody (as in comes and goes with the tide).

 

[Jon Potter]

Sounds like Huzair has a little teifling in him.

Actually, it's a little Elemarn. Of course, that doesn't account for his personality.

I think it would have been highly frustrating for your players to have the earth blade speak slow and methodical like the earth it represents. The fire blade could be passionate, the air blade flighty, and the water blade moody (as in comes and goes with the tide).

Where were you when I was planning this?

But actually, I read something similar with a Galeb-dur (sp?) in Rel's Faded Glory story hour. It's a great read, BTW; I heartily recommend all three of his Faded Glory story hours.

I don't think I have the patience for something like that. I have a hard enough remembering to use caps lock when typing up the sword's speech. And anyway, as the group eventually finds out, there's a common personality behind this and the other elemental swords.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #370] The Next Step

"My Boots of the Hinterlands are not going to help me 'ere," Karak grumbled, eying the place with a mixture of awe and concern.

The heat was insufferable. Shamalin could not remember the last time she felt such discomfort from being hot. During the summers of her youth she had relished even the warmest of days. But this was a different kind of heat - heavy and oppressive. Even breathing seemed painful. How could Huzair be talking so calmly?

"How do we get over there?" the wizard asked, eyeing the lava critically. "If we mess up a jump, we are dead." He casually flicked the butt of his latest cigar into the lava where it flashed momentarily into flame before being swiftly consumed.

Shamalin shifted uncomfortably and felt beads of sweat roll down her neck. Closing her eyes she prayed that, in spite of the darkness inside her and the fraying chords of her own faith, Flor would enable them to do what they must here and now.

"What about your jumping bracers, Morier?" Huzair asked. "Can they help you?" Absently, Huzair moved his hands through the somatic components of an Endure Elements spell.

"I hope so," the eldritch warrior answered grimly and started casting his own Endure Elements.

Ayremac began the lengthy task of stripping off his armor. "Karak, if I might bother you to help me. I think I have the most agility here; I'll try to move forward and draw the attention of any "beasties" as you would say." He grinned at the dwarf as Karak began to tug at the man's straps. The dwarf said nothing in reply, but sweat was already streaming down his hirsute features.

"I won't even make a wise crack about buffing. I do not want to piss off your sword," Huzair observed, testing the temperature of his fluted metal bracer and smiling. Protected by the Endure Elemetns, his warcaster's armor no longer felt hot. "Maybe Stoneblade could give us a suggestion?"

"CAN ANY OF YOU FLY?" the sword responded flatly. If there was a note of sarcasm in the weapon's voice, it was well hidden.

Shamalin sighed as her Protection from Fire spell took hold. It was still almost unbearably hot, but at least her armor wasn't cooking her anymore. She placed her hand fully on Ayremac's chestplate, even as he was struggling to divest it. Resisting the urge to withdraw from the already heated metal, she closed her eyes and reached out to her goddess, bestowing on her friend the ability to Endure Elements. Karak was next.

"I would love to send Sparky to explore," Huzair was saying, squinting off into the heat haze. "If I cast Detect Magic, it could save us time."

"I do nae think that little birdie should fly up there by hisself," Karak huffed and wiped sweat from his brow. "Remember what happened to the poor sprite? Maybe if'n it was invisible..." Huzair considered this but said nothing.

"Morier, I hate to say it, but I think you should sit back. You are holding a key now and that key needs to be kept safe," Ayremac said, pausing as he untied a leather thong holding his vambrace in position. Now that Shamalin's magic had alleviated the damage of his heating armor, his pace had grown less frantic. "We can't have it sinking to the bottom of a lava floe. Huzair, you have an affinity for this heat-"

"If you're going to get that armor off, get to it," Morier snapped. "We don't have the luxury of time for you to stand around and tell everyone what you think." The eldritch warrior imbued himself with Bull's Strength, relishing the surge as his muscles swelled with power.

Ayremac stopped, dropped his arm guard and turned to square off with Morier. "Do not speak to me in that way again, Morier, and you shall find that I pay you the same respect." He glared at the albino awaiting some acknowledgement that he'd been heard, but Morier just stared back at him.

"Do not worry, Morier," Huzair stage whispered, elbowing the elf. "I have your back."

Shamalin yanked especially hard on a piece of Ayremac's armor and said firmly, "We've got more important things to do right now!" The holy warrior turned to regard her, chagrinned.

"I have no problem with Morier jumping... but he is not going with that sword. If he falls, is knocked in by some fire elemental, whatever... it would be a catastrophe," he explained. He looked around then at Karak and Huzair, asking, "Am I alone in this?"

"Alone or not Holy Warrior, I will tell you that he is indeed going and he is indeed taking the sword with him," Morier said angrily. "At this point he is arguably the most fit to get from point A to point B safely, and he will be the only one wearing armor when we get across to whatever hellish beast awaits us. He is not leaving the sword behind, and he damn sure is not staying behind... so unless you are prepared to peel this sword from his cold dead hand, I suggest you shut up and jump!" Ayremac sighed.

"And I suggest you leave the Elemental Blade. But I am not your mommy, Morier, so you can do what you like," the Officer of Umba said, resigned. "I just hope you don't drop the sword or the world will end."

"Morier can do whatever the hell he wants! He can make it," Huzair snapped. "What is to say the monsters aren't going to come and knock us in right here?"

"Huzair, you bring a lot to this group and your powers are without question, however, your tact is poor and your arguments cause us to all waste energy that could be used for more useful purposes," Ayremac retorted, fixing a withering gaze on the wizard. "Find a way to control your tongue or you may find that someone else takes that control for you."

"Enough!" Shamalin said, the magic of her new Circlet of Persuasion adding more weight to her words than she felt capable of mustering alone. "This is neither the time nor the place for this... foolish bickering." Huzair nodded.

"Let's not waste time arguing," he said, turning invisible. "Let's get there."

"I like Ayremac's plan except'n why're we all jumpin'?" Karak asked as he peeled away the holy warrior's pauldron. "Let's make us all impervious to fire then draw them to us. We can fight 'em here and no' risk all jumpin' that way!"



It was decided that - Elemental Blade not withstanding - Morier was the best choice to make his way across the lava floe. He wore non-restrictive leather armor plus he had the Armbands of Jumping, Dust of Levitation, and the added Strength of a Bull to aid in his passage. Layered with buffs, he glanced at the others and nodded. "Be ready," he told them. "If you're right, then there's a good chance I'll have company on my tail when I return." Shamalin caught and held his gaze as she approached and laid a final magical ward on him.

"This will shield you as you advance. Should you need to make an offensive move, the spell will be lost," She explained. Then her voice took on a contemptuous edge and she added, "Perhaps this way you will require fewer of my services later on."



During many a long walk with Malcolm in the woods around Hillville Junction, Morier had seen squirrels making unbelievable leaps from branch to branch through the treetops. The little rodents had seemed almost to fly as they moved about the canopy, and that's how Morier felt here as he jumped thirty feet across the stepping stones. Jumping across a lava floe this time was a great deal easier than the last time he'd tried it. He'd managed that time as well, of course, but the magic made it so much easier.

If Vade and Ixin had had the benefit of Lela's Levitation Dust, then they'd probably be alive now. As he landed and took a moment to judge the best outcropping of obsidian to choose next, he wondered again what exactly had happened to them. They'd both died somewhere between the entrance to the Grove and the Walk of Air, which meant that they'd failed either the Walk of Fire or the Walk of Earth. Vade, with his short legs, he could easily imagine burning alive in that first lake of fire, but Ixin both had wings and a decent immunity to fire. The Walk of Earth had probably done her in, although he couldn't quite figure out how she might have died in the treant's forest. Perhaps she'd starved to death trying to figure out the password to activate the portal to the Walk of Air. He grimaced and tensed to leap.

Starvation was a particularly unpleasant way to die, he imagined.



Levitating invisibly overhead, Huzair watched the albino jumping from stepping stone to stepping stone like some kind of freakishly large and pale monkey. Morier always had to do things the hard way, the wizard mused as he moved easily along the ceiling going hand-over-hand. Still, he supposed, it was good that the drow was so quick to rush unthinking into the fray; it left Huzair well out of danger - where any intelligent creature would want to be.

This plan had been his and he felt confident that it would succeed.



Morier landed lightly only about thirty feet from the obsidian outcropping that held the red glow. He was two jumps away from his goal and paused to glance back the way he'd come. He could barely see Ayremac, Karak and Shamalin some sixty-odd feet away through the haze of heat. They seemed to be ready and he knew enough not to bother looking for Huzair; undoubtedly, the wizard was invisible and hiding somewhere well away from any potential action.

He produced the thunderstone from his pouch and tested its weight in his palm. Then, deciding the direction he wanted attention to be attracted, Morier drew back his arm and hurled the alchemical object with all his might. It arced up and came down far to the left striking with a stupendous WHOOMPFF!!! that filled the room with the echoes of distant storm clouds.

As the sound reverberated around the chamber, Morier waited for the presumed elemental guardian to appear, but he saw nothing.



Huzair had been closer than anyone when the thunderstone went off - not close enough to hurt him any, but it made his ears ring annoyingly, just the same. Still moving diligently forward hand-over-hand toward the far shelf, he scanned the lava for any sign of the fire elemental that they were all expecting as guardian. He was just about to reconsider Morier's idea that maybe the lava was the whole test when a pillar of fire at least thirty feet across rose up around Morier, extending all the way to the ceiling above. Huzair hesitated a moment, considering the column of fire, but it didn't take him long to recognize it as a Wall of Flame shaped so as to trap Morier inside. Doing some quick mental calculations caused his heart to sink into his guts.

To generate a Wall of Fire that size meant that they were dealing with a Mage of the 8th Order! (1)

-----------------------------------

(1) For comparison purposes Huzair is a Mage of the 3rd Order, BTW.

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #371] Great Balls o' Fire!

Morier yelped in surprise and jumped back, armor smoking, from the roaring wall of flame that blocked his way. The smell of burnt hair filled his nostrils and he looked frantically around for away around the wall. There was none. He was surrounded.

"WE'RE SURROUNDED! Stoneblade thundered, its voice clearly audible over the rush of fire that pressed down on the eldritch warrior. "AND YOU DON'T LOOK SO GOOD!" Morier backed grimly into the center of the ring of fire where it was marginally cooler.

"Well it's a little hot in here just now," the albino told his sword. He glanced up and saw that the flames reached the level of the ceiling.

"THEN PERHAPS WE SHOULD REMOVE OURSELVES FROM THIS SITUATION!" the elemental blade said and instantly, Morier knew what he should do.



"Relax out there, lad!" Karak bellowed, his off-hand cupped around his mouth. "Ye should be protected somewhat from the flames by yer spells!"

"I don't think he can hear you way out there," Ayremac observed. "I told him it was foolish to jump out there with that sword." Karak snorted his assent.

"I was with ye, lad. Why he chose to go off all half-cocked on this one I do nae know," the dwarf confided. "I still be thinkin' it's the sword controllin' 'im."

"I-told-you-so's won't save Morier's life," Shamalin grumbled and protected herself with a Sanctuary spell.

"Okay, okay. We have not e'en seen an attack as of yet. He's just been walled off," the dwarf said in a conciliatory tone. "My bet is the fire elemental has spell craftin' abilities. He'll be fine with all them fire protections on 'im."

"I didn't put any fire protections on him," Shamalin said and the dwarf's eyes grew wide.

"Oh, wonderful," Ayremac said, his sarcasm summing up the other's opinions as well.



He'd had to endure some bullying and discrimination growing up, but for the most part, Huzair had always enjoyed the benefits that the fiery blood running through his veins afforded him. He could Heat Metal with a touch for instance, or heal himself with the heat of a fire, and see through flames as if they weren't there. This last ability gave him a clear view of Morier as he cooked inside the ring of fire.

It wasn't as much fun as he'd always imagined that it would be.

Frantically, the wizard tried to think of ways to bring the Wall down. He knew that the application of sufficient cold would do it, but the only spell of cold that he had prepared was Snowball Swarm and it just wouldn't do enough damage to dispel the wall - even temporarily. He felt a little helpless.

He was very confused when he saw Morier raise his fancy new sword over his head in a reverse grip and then drive it point-first into the ground. Either Morier was a whole lot stronger than he let on or the ground was pretty soft, because the sword sank fully half its length into the obsidian at the albino's feet. Morier continued to grip the handle of the sword and Huzair watched, dumbfounded, as the ground in front of the blade began to rise up in a line that pierced the side of the Wall of Fire. It continued to rise up until a Wall of Stone shaped into a sealed tunnel let out onto the obsidian shelf behind the column of flame.

Morier darted into the tunnel and after a moment appeared safely outside the Wall and it was only at this time that Huzair realized his own mouth was hanging open.



"What do we do now?" Shamalin asked and Karak nodded.

"Plan still stands," he said, waving his waraxe broadly. "We are trying to draw the spellcaster away so Huzair can get the stone."

"Karak? Shamalin? Do you see a caster out there anywhere?" Ayremac asked, as he moved off to the side and squinted into the heat distortion. He raised his Ring of Communication to his lips and spoke at it. "What about you, Huzair? Any sign of the guardian."

"No," the wizard's voice spoke into Ayremac's ear, and there was a strong tone of disbelief in it. "But Morier just used that damned sword to get free of the Wall of Fire."

The holy warrior's face brightened and he peered out toward the base of the pillar of flame. He could just barely see Morier's pale form against the Wall of Fire.



Morier looked up at the tower of fire, a bit surprised that he'd survived the inferno. Oddly, the fire wasn't even hot from this side. He was just turning back to regard Ayremac, Shamalin and Karak when a glowing bead of light shot passed him at incredible speed. He could feel the heat of its passing for an instant before it struck the wall behind his three companions and blossomed into an enormous Fireball.



None of them were prepared for it, but Ayremac was far enough away from the point of impact to throw himself flat and avoid the worst of the attack. Shamalin's Fire Resistance magic helped somewhat, reducing a portion of the damage they each took and the cleric's own Protection from Fire absorbed any further injury she might have sustained from the blast. The other two weren't so lucky.

Karak was still standing, but smoke rose from his blackened form. Embers glowed in his beard and he hurried to pat them out. Ayremac's back was livid from the Fireball's touch as it passed over him and he winced as he got to his feet.

"I'm on my way back!" Huzair's voice whispered excitedly into his ear. "Are you guys all right?"

"No! Keep going, Huzair. We have the attention of whatever this is... get the gem and get back!" Ayremac snapped into the ring, his voice heavy with pain. As he stood, he spotted movement in the lava floe; there were serpentine, humanoid shapes swimming toward them through the molten stone. He raised the longsword the dwarf had given him and called over his shoulder, "Karak, I could use some help, if you would not mind..."



Huzair hesitated and so was in the best position to spot the figure that had hurled the Fireball. It wasn't what what he was expecting. It had a muscular humanoid torso with a hawkish face on its large, frilled head. Its lower body, however, was serpentine from the waist down, and covered everywhere in red and black scales. Flame shaped spines jutted from the creature's back, arms and shoulders. In one clawed hand it carried a longspear fully 20 feet in length that glowed an ashy pink color in the heat.

It slithered forward through the lava as the Wall of Fire vanished giving the creature a clear view of Morier. The eldritch warrior looked very small compared to the enormous red-scaled thing.

 

[Pyske]

For a story hour with so many posts, you don't seem to have very vocal readers, Jon!

Anyway, just wanted to mention that you can add me to that list, and I enjoyed the heck out of reading from the first post. I'm all caught up now, and looking forward to seeing what Ixin / Lela's next character will be.

Your group definitely seems to like their adventures on the challenging side! I've got to wish them luck; it seems like they need as much of it as they can get. I'm really impressed with some of the fun characters you've had: Ledare, Ixin, Vade, Feln...

PS -- At some point, Im going to have to page back and figure out where the elven wizard vanished to when Great Oak reincarnated Feln.