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The Risen Goddess (Updated 3.10.08)
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<blockquote data-quote="(contact)" data-source="post: 1083" data-attributes="member: 41"><p><strong>4-- Forward, Into the Past</strong>, cont. </p><p></p><p>During their first week of travel in the Flinty Hills, the group notices a strange sight off in the distance. A long, narrow object, suspended in mid-air, stretching from approximately 2 feet to 20 feet off the ground before it disappears. As they approach, they spot a very strange bird in a nearby tree. </p><p></p><p>The brightly colored four-winged creature is the size of a small horse, and as they approach, it attacks them with bursts of lightning that issue from its hooked beak. Its wings radiate equilaterally from its central axis, and it possesses an amazing level of mobility that no normal bird could ever hope to achieve. Merely keeping one's eye on the thing is difficult enough, nonetheless convincing it to stand still long enough to shoot at!</p><p></p><p>They defeat it, but must use all their most potent magic to do so. They then approach the object, which they can now see is a ladder, and call out. Indy and Thelbar explain that the ladder is most likely a <em>rope trick</em> currently being used by an adventuring party hiding from the bizarre and predatory bird.</p><p></p><p>Unfortunately for them, there are no friendly adventurers here. The ladder is in fact completely normal. Of course, no ladder can really be called normal when it is dangling from a rift in space bridging the prime material plane with the plane of Air. On the Air side of this dimensional rift is a transmuter of malevolent disposition with his gang of hyper-aggressive gnome barbarians digging in a chunk of floating prime material plane for buried treasure.</p><p></p><p>Yes, literally.</p><p></p><p>One of the gnomes climbs down the ladder, and tells the PCs to mind their own business, and move on. Or at least that's the general drift-- he isn't near that polite. The gnome is nasty and insulting, and it isn't long before Taran decides he's had all the lip he's going to take out of a little half-dwarf who would need a step ladder to polish his own belt buckle. Hostilities commence, and it's not pretty.</p><p></p><p>Unknown to the party, a large air elemental has been resting quietly at the base of the ladder, and once swords are drawn, it begins tearing through the party's ranks, picking up characters and depositing them one hundred feet away. The transmuter, on the other side of a vortex, orders his remaining gnomes to find out what is keeping their companion, and terminate with prejudice anyone they don't recognize.</p><p></p><p>The aggro gnomes drop screaming from the vortex (which is kind of like a horizontal door between the two planes) with their blades drawn, only to charge face-first into a <em>color spray</em>. They fall unconscious, wake up, go blind, then stumble around. It would be like a typical night on the town, except at the end of it, they all die.</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, the air elemental is causing complete chaos amongst the spellcasters, and Kyreel and Taran have just managed to fight their way underneath the dimensional rift where they can be seen by the watching transmuter. The two heroes charge up the ladder and into the plane of air, where the dire fellow attempts to parley. </p><p></p><p>"Gentlemen!" He says with an oily leer, "We've gotten off on the wrong foot. Perhaps there is enough treasure here for all of us?"</p><p></p><p> As soon as he sees that his ruse isn't going to work, he is quick to <em>lightning bolt</em> the dirty do-gooders. Unfortunately for him, they don't die. (Strange, that's never happened before . . . they usually die when they are blasted in the face like that.)</p><p></p><p>The mage is backing away from the heroes toward the opposite end of a 20' x 15' slab of earth, clay and grass floating in an endless expanse of blue sky and majestic clouds. A stiff breeze whistles through the place, disturbingly void of the normal earthen smells such a wind might bring.</p><p></p><p>Thelbar sends his hawk familiar Sartre up through the portal with a live <em>shocking grasp</em> spell. Sartre dodges around the mage's <em>shield</em> and delivers a critical hit! The mage is staggered, and in far too much pain to put up any sort of defense against the big man with the sharp sword. Taran cuts him into two twitching, evil pieces.</p><p></p><p>The PCs gather on the slab of dirt and begin to explore the prime pocket floating in the plane of air. The mean little gnomes had already dug up a large, wooden chest, and were in the process of destroying the lock to get it open. One whack from Black Lisa later, the PCs are counting coinage and examining a pair of magic items.</p><p></p><p>On the body of the transmuter (well, the upper half, that is), Thelbar discovers a hide bound diary, of ancient manufacture. The book is stamped with heraldic markings revealing its maker to be a craftsman from the Great Kingdom, pre-splintering! Thelbar opens the tome, and discovers that he is holding the spellbook of an ancient wizard, now long gone, who had sequestered caches of coins and magic in various pocket dimensions and inner planes, then connected the caches to a series of static 'portals' in and around the Great Kingdom. The portals are partially sealed, opened by spell-completion, like some magic items. This transmuter (Mother have mercy on his soul), bought the book from a curio shop in Nyrond, and has partially translated the text.</p><p></p><p>What the transmuter missed, but Thelbar does not, was the hidden text describing a series of rituals that would fundamentally change aspects of an applicable spell. If the rituals in this book work, any spell could be made more mighty, or lengthy in its duration, all without a greater expenditure of magical resource by the spell-caster. If this book is correct, Thelbar realizes, every wizard in the Flannaes would kill to possess it.</p><p></p><p>The implications of the work captivate Thelbar, and he calls for a camp. The heroes settle down on the prime material pocket to rest. Indy and Thelbar pore over the ancient tome, while Kyreel and Taran watch the majestic (and altogether too massive) cloud formations whirl and tumble through the endless expanse of sky.</p><p></p><p>When they awaken in the morning, well rested and ready to resume their journey, they find that the portal back to the Prime Material plane has closed. They are standing alone on a 15' x 10' x 20' chunk of dirt and grass floating in an infinite void of Air . . .</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="(contact), post: 1083, member: 41"] [b]4-- Forward, Into the Past[/b], cont. During their first week of travel in the Flinty Hills, the group notices a strange sight off in the distance. A long, narrow object, suspended in mid-air, stretching from approximately 2 feet to 20 feet off the ground before it disappears. As they approach, they spot a very strange bird in a nearby tree. The brightly colored four-winged creature is the size of a small horse, and as they approach, it attacks them with bursts of lightning that issue from its hooked beak. Its wings radiate equilaterally from its central axis, and it possesses an amazing level of mobility that no normal bird could ever hope to achieve. Merely keeping one's eye on the thing is difficult enough, nonetheless convincing it to stand still long enough to shoot at! They defeat it, but must use all their most potent magic to do so. They then approach the object, which they can now see is a ladder, and call out. Indy and Thelbar explain that the ladder is most likely a [i]rope trick[/i] currently being used by an adventuring party hiding from the bizarre and predatory bird. Unfortunately for them, there are no friendly adventurers here. The ladder is in fact completely normal. Of course, no ladder can really be called normal when it is dangling from a rift in space bridging the prime material plane with the plane of Air. On the Air side of this dimensional rift is a transmuter of malevolent disposition with his gang of hyper-aggressive gnome barbarians digging in a chunk of floating prime material plane for buried treasure. Yes, literally. One of the gnomes climbs down the ladder, and tells the PCs to mind their own business, and move on. Or at least that's the general drift-- he isn't near that polite. The gnome is nasty and insulting, and it isn't long before Taran decides he's had all the lip he's going to take out of a little half-dwarf who would need a step ladder to polish his own belt buckle. Hostilities commence, and it's not pretty. Unknown to the party, a large air elemental has been resting quietly at the base of the ladder, and once swords are drawn, it begins tearing through the party's ranks, picking up characters and depositing them one hundred feet away. The transmuter, on the other side of a vortex, orders his remaining gnomes to find out what is keeping their companion, and terminate with prejudice anyone they don't recognize. The aggro gnomes drop screaming from the vortex (which is kind of like a horizontal door between the two planes) with their blades drawn, only to charge face-first into a [i]color spray[/i]. They fall unconscious, wake up, go blind, then stumble around. It would be like a typical night on the town, except at the end of it, they all die. Meanwhile, the air elemental is causing complete chaos amongst the spellcasters, and Kyreel and Taran have just managed to fight their way underneath the dimensional rift where they can be seen by the watching transmuter. The two heroes charge up the ladder and into the plane of air, where the dire fellow attempts to parley. "Gentlemen!" He says with an oily leer, "We've gotten off on the wrong foot. Perhaps there is enough treasure here for all of us?" As soon as he sees that his ruse isn't going to work, he is quick to [i]lightning bolt[/i] the dirty do-gooders. Unfortunately for him, they don't die. (Strange, that's never happened before . . . they usually die when they are blasted in the face like that.) The mage is backing away from the heroes toward the opposite end of a 20' x 15' slab of earth, clay and grass floating in an endless expanse of blue sky and majestic clouds. A stiff breeze whistles through the place, disturbingly void of the normal earthen smells such a wind might bring. Thelbar sends his hawk familiar Sartre up through the portal with a live [i]shocking grasp[/i] spell. Sartre dodges around the mage's [i]shield[/i] and delivers a critical hit! The mage is staggered, and in far too much pain to put up any sort of defense against the big man with the sharp sword. Taran cuts him into two twitching, evil pieces. The PCs gather on the slab of dirt and begin to explore the prime pocket floating in the plane of air. The mean little gnomes had already dug up a large, wooden chest, and were in the process of destroying the lock to get it open. One whack from Black Lisa later, the PCs are counting coinage and examining a pair of magic items. On the body of the transmuter (well, the upper half, that is), Thelbar discovers a hide bound diary, of ancient manufacture. The book is stamped with heraldic markings revealing its maker to be a craftsman from the Great Kingdom, pre-splintering! Thelbar opens the tome, and discovers that he is holding the spellbook of an ancient wizard, now long gone, who had sequestered caches of coins and magic in various pocket dimensions and inner planes, then connected the caches to a series of static 'portals' in and around the Great Kingdom. The portals are partially sealed, opened by spell-completion, like some magic items. This transmuter (Mother have mercy on his soul), bought the book from a curio shop in Nyrond, and has partially translated the text. What the transmuter missed, but Thelbar does not, was the hidden text describing a series of rituals that would fundamentally change aspects of an applicable spell. If the rituals in this book work, any spell could be made more mighty, or lengthy in its duration, all without a greater expenditure of magical resource by the spell-caster. If this book is correct, Thelbar realizes, every wizard in the Flannaes would kill to possess it. The implications of the work captivate Thelbar, and he calls for a camp. The heroes settle down on the prime material pocket to rest. Indy and Thelbar pore over the ancient tome, while Kyreel and Taran watch the majestic (and altogether too massive) cloud formations whirl and tumble through the endless expanse of sky. When they awaken in the morning, well rested and ready to resume their journey, they find that the portal back to the Prime Material plane has closed. They are standing alone on a 15' x 10' x 20' chunk of dirt and grass floating in an infinite void of Air . . . [/QUOTE]
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