ZEITGEIST [ZEITGEIST] The Continuing Adventures of Korrigan & Co.
gideonpepys
Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.
BTW, [MENTION=63]RangerWickett[/MENTION], what benefits, if any do you think this should accrue?
I'm thinking very few until the end of the campaign (assuming Uru does not want to leave the unit and ensconce himself in the mountains straight away). But would he enjoy any of the benefits of nascent titanhood before that point, do you think? And if so what would that look like?
(My first thoughts were maybe the extension of his 'city's whispers' powers to the mountains, for all the good that would do, and maybe a small, slow amount of regeneration? Also - I was thinking he might nab the incorporeal half of the Voice of Rot's portfolio, since that's theoretically up for grabs. Maybe that could come about as a result of events in adventure #11?)
I'm thinking very few until the end of the campaign (assuming Uru does not want to leave the unit and ensconce himself in the mountains straight away). But would he enjoy any of the benefits of nascent titanhood before that point, do you think? And if so what would that look like?
(My first thoughts were maybe the extension of his 'city's whispers' powers to the mountains, for all the good that would do, and maybe a small, slow amount of regeneration? Also - I was thinking he might nab the incorporeal half of the Voice of Rot's portfolio, since that's theoretically up for grabs. Maybe that could come about as a result of events in adventure #11?)
RangerWickett
Legend
I'm not sure incorporeality fits the idea of mountains (which I see as pretty solid), unless you want Uru to redefine the mythic undertones of mountains in Risur. Maybe make them far spookier, fog-shrouded, perhaps even shifting locations.
As for personal benefits, well, he's got to get bigger eventually. Though I would appreciate the irony of some future generation discovering the fey titan of the mountains is just a normal sized guy in a giant mecha suit woven out of caveshadow and all the mined metal ever abandoned and lost.
As for personal benefits, well, he's got to get bigger eventually. Though I would appreciate the irony of some future generation discovering the fey titan of the mountains is just a normal sized guy in a giant mecha suit woven out of caveshadow and all the mined metal ever abandoned and lost.
gideonpepys
Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.
That is exactly what I was thinking - a redefinition. Especially the underground parts.
Fabulous idea. Thanks!
gideonpepys
Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.
Session 200, Part One - Toteth Topec
DM's Note: Regular readers should not worry that I have skipped one-hundred-and-thirty episodes. I realised just before the last session that we finished our original run on session 130, and with this being session 70 of the reboot, we were now at a landmark 200th session. I decided that this would be an appropriate point to switch our count back to 'total sessions played' rather than 'reboot sessions played'.
Whosoever ventures near,
Be forewarned that Death lives here.
If you should note the smell of death,
Then soon shall come your final breath.
Before they left Bole, they wanted to find out more about what the Voice of Rot was up to. Gupta made enquiries and her Vekeshi contacts enabled her to speak with folk who came close to something like ‘worship’ of the titan, without being devoted cultists like Ochrin and Katlin Eisner. Their numbers had swelled in recent years, since the titan had awoken – galvanised in part by fear of the monstrous death serpent. Now they lamented (some with obvious ambiguity) that the subtle, seductive whispers from the swamp had abruptly ceased. Uriel, meanwhile, took advantage of the clear skies over Bole to induce a skyseer vision. He saw a robed woman with a fiery blade fighting a gigantic serpent on a silver ring, then the vision was torn apart before his eyes.
Messages from Slate called Korrigan away that night; the nation needed a firm hand on the tiller and the presence of its head of state. Without their monarch, the unit headed into High Bayou. They found no sign of the titan’s presence, but when they came to the site of the Ziggurat of Apet they found that the structure had vanished entirely. Uriel used location loresight and determined that, in the wake of the Great Eclipse, the portal here had linked with the new plane, Baden (in the same way that the Ziggurat of Av had linked to Jiese). He then saw that the Voice of Rot had slithered into the Ziggurat and through the portal – an impossible squeeze for such a gigantic creature – before causing the entire structure to sink deep into the swamp.
While Uriel conducted his ritual, the others caught sight of a glowing, ghostly figure through the trees. They approached cautiously, and found the spirit of an orc, dressed in the garb of an ancient shaman, crouched against the base of a tree, drinking a beverage from a vessel with a salt-encrusted rim. The spirit was not hostile, but they could not understand him, nor he them, until Uriel was done, and was finally able to employ his fluency in the Ancient tongue. The orc was Toteth Topec, original architect of the Axis Seal ritual, summoned here by the disruption of the seal. They asked Toteth how they could undo what had been done. He told them they would need to find eight safe worlds to link to, worlds that didn’t have hostile forces that could invade. (Ancient orcs did all the hard work fighting invaders, and Toteth was kind of disappointed that humans had ended up taking over most of the world.) These worlds would need a proper balance of energies – air, earth, fire, water, life, death, space, and time – with the appropriate traits. (A bad mix could make made the world uninhabitable or completely remove free will. It took the orcs years to find the right worlds, because they had to journey to each on foot. It was easier to travel between planes back then; kids these days wouldn’t appreciate it.) Toteth also told them that the golden seal itself linked the world to a star. (Back in his day, you see, there wasn’t a sun (hence the darkvison). He came up with the idea of having one! Well, alright, he saw it on another plane and thought it was a good idea. It kept the monsters away for half the day. Toteth slightly regretted that his new world of light may have given humanity the edge it needed to supplant his own civilization.) Toteth said that the energy which awoke him suggested that the seal had been ‘ripped apart’ and that the absence of one plane (for he could not sense Av) made it seem unlikely that things had gone according to plan.
They bade him farewell, and as a parting gift, he shared with them the recipe for his favourite beverage – a long-lost orcish drink called the margarita.
DM's Note: Regular readers should not worry that I have skipped one-hundred-and-thirty episodes. I realised just before the last session that we finished our original run on session 130, and with this being session 70 of the reboot, we were now at a landmark 200th session. I decided that this would be an appropriate point to switch our count back to 'total sessions played' rather than 'reboot sessions played'.
Whosoever ventures near,
Be forewarned that Death lives here.
If you should note the smell of death,
Then soon shall come your final breath.
Before they left Bole, they wanted to find out more about what the Voice of Rot was up to. Gupta made enquiries and her Vekeshi contacts enabled her to speak with folk who came close to something like ‘worship’ of the titan, without being devoted cultists like Ochrin and Katlin Eisner. Their numbers had swelled in recent years, since the titan had awoken – galvanised in part by fear of the monstrous death serpent. Now they lamented (some with obvious ambiguity) that the subtle, seductive whispers from the swamp had abruptly ceased. Uriel, meanwhile, took advantage of the clear skies over Bole to induce a skyseer vision. He saw a robed woman with a fiery blade fighting a gigantic serpent on a silver ring, then the vision was torn apart before his eyes.
Messages from Slate called Korrigan away that night; the nation needed a firm hand on the tiller and the presence of its head of state. Without their monarch, the unit headed into High Bayou. They found no sign of the titan’s presence, but when they came to the site of the Ziggurat of Apet they found that the structure had vanished entirely. Uriel used location loresight and determined that, in the wake of the Great Eclipse, the portal here had linked with the new plane, Baden (in the same way that the Ziggurat of Av had linked to Jiese). He then saw that the Voice of Rot had slithered into the Ziggurat and through the portal – an impossible squeeze for such a gigantic creature – before causing the entire structure to sink deep into the swamp.
While Uriel conducted his ritual, the others caught sight of a glowing, ghostly figure through the trees. They approached cautiously, and found the spirit of an orc, dressed in the garb of an ancient shaman, crouched against the base of a tree, drinking a beverage from a vessel with a salt-encrusted rim. The spirit was not hostile, but they could not understand him, nor he them, until Uriel was done, and was finally able to employ his fluency in the Ancient tongue. The orc was Toteth Topec, original architect of the Axis Seal ritual, summoned here by the disruption of the seal. They asked Toteth how they could undo what had been done. He told them they would need to find eight safe worlds to link to, worlds that didn’t have hostile forces that could invade. (Ancient orcs did all the hard work fighting invaders, and Toteth was kind of disappointed that humans had ended up taking over most of the world.) These worlds would need a proper balance of energies – air, earth, fire, water, life, death, space, and time – with the appropriate traits. (A bad mix could make made the world uninhabitable or completely remove free will. It took the orcs years to find the right worlds, because they had to journey to each on foot. It was easier to travel between planes back then; kids these days wouldn’t appreciate it.) Toteth also told them that the golden seal itself linked the world to a star. (Back in his day, you see, there wasn’t a sun (hence the darkvison). He came up with the idea of having one! Well, alright, he saw it on another plane and thought it was a good idea. It kept the monsters away for half the day. Toteth slightly regretted that his new world of light may have given humanity the edge it needed to supplant his own civilization.) Toteth said that the energy which awoke him suggested that the seal had been ‘ripped apart’ and that the absence of one plane (for he could not sense Av) made it seem unlikely that things had gone according to plan.
They bade him farewell, and as a parting gift, he shared with them the recipe for his favourite beverage – a long-lost orcish drink called the margarita.
RangerWickett
Legend
A scene first envisioned between me and my roommate 15 years ago, finally brought to life.
gideonpepys
Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.
Did your version include the lines, "Ask him if the Seal came with a warranty."
"Even if it did, I'm pretty sure the Ob have voided it."?
gideonpepys
Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.
Session 200, Part Two - Meanwhile, Around the World…
Rumdoom was waiting for them back in Flint. He had been busy:
First of all, he had used the linked portals his followers had established to travel to Trekhom. There he found that his once-thriving community of Rumschatologists had vanished. Their chapterhouse was empty, save for signs of a stuggle. Together with his entourage he stole out into the tunnels of Trekhom to try and find out what had happened. It turned out that making contact with old friends was a risky business, and soon the Drakren security forces were on their tail. They learned what they could (none of which was good news), before high-tailing it back through the portal, and closing it behind them. Four more of Rumdoom’s followers perished on this mission. Only he and Thurgid Ironspoon made it back alive. Their names were added to the memorial obelisk in the Rumchatologist chapterhouse in Flint.
In Trekhom, Rumdoom learned that the Obscurati had stepped out into the light, declared itself and its intentions and made a variety of public broadcasts sanctioned by the Drakren state. Dealing with dissent had been a priority, and – as an obvious fifth column – Rumdoom’s followers had been targeted almost immediately and had been arrested, slain, converted or else fled. Rumdoom heard that many followers of Grandis Komanov had escaped this purge by heading north, in answer to her call: the rumour in Trekhom was that she was raising an apocalyptic army – another step towards the end times. Bhalu had left the city to investigate this matter shortly before the Great Eclipse, but no word had returned.
‘Nicodemus the Gnostic’ was now a household name – established leader of a New World Order. Yes, they had laboured in secret to bring about this new dawn, but only because the elites and vested interests would have sought to oppose them if they done so in the open. Word was that magic now functioned in Danor, and the chaotic fluctuations in the malice Lands had ceased too. But the Ob had admitted one fault – the disappearance of the sun. This, they said, was due to the interference of ‘Risuri-backed terrorists’. (This disruption was to blame for any unfortunate incidents that had occurred in the aftermath of the Eclipse, such as the chaos reported from Crisillyir, following the mass-suicide of numerous hierarchs.) The centre of this New World Order was in Cherage, but the movement was not nationalistic, or Danoran. To demonstrate this, Nicodemus had invited the leaders of all nations to a Forward Symposium in just a few weeks’ time.
On his return to Flint, Rumdoom had also plucked up the courage to use the aboleth ‘tadpole’ his people had fixed. He understood the need for caution only too well, having once had such a device implanted in his neck, causing him to attempt to flood the city at the aboleth’s behest. But Rumdoom’s willpower was much stronger now, and he knew that nothing of that sort would happen this time. When he held the thing in place, near where his skull met his spine, it sprang to life and burrowed in, leaving only the black tail sticking out like a hair. Rumdoom then waited to see if any message was forthcoming.
Just a few second later, a meaning was transmitted, with a ‘volume’ and a force so intense it caused him to reel. Although purely telepathic in nature, and formed of thoughts not words, Rumdoom understood it at once. It said simply: “HELP US!”
Rumdoom was waiting for them back in Flint. He had been busy:
First of all, he had used the linked portals his followers had established to travel to Trekhom. There he found that his once-thriving community of Rumschatologists had vanished. Their chapterhouse was empty, save for signs of a stuggle. Together with his entourage he stole out into the tunnels of Trekhom to try and find out what had happened. It turned out that making contact with old friends was a risky business, and soon the Drakren security forces were on their tail. They learned what they could (none of which was good news), before high-tailing it back through the portal, and closing it behind them. Four more of Rumdoom’s followers perished on this mission. Only he and Thurgid Ironspoon made it back alive. Their names were added to the memorial obelisk in the Rumchatologist chapterhouse in Flint.
In Trekhom, Rumdoom learned that the Obscurati had stepped out into the light, declared itself and its intentions and made a variety of public broadcasts sanctioned by the Drakren state. Dealing with dissent had been a priority, and – as an obvious fifth column – Rumdoom’s followers had been targeted almost immediately and had been arrested, slain, converted or else fled. Rumdoom heard that many followers of Grandis Komanov had escaped this purge by heading north, in answer to her call: the rumour in Trekhom was that she was raising an apocalyptic army – another step towards the end times. Bhalu had left the city to investigate this matter shortly before the Great Eclipse, but no word had returned.
‘Nicodemus the Gnostic’ was now a household name – established leader of a New World Order. Yes, they had laboured in secret to bring about this new dawn, but only because the elites and vested interests would have sought to oppose them if they done so in the open. Word was that magic now functioned in Danor, and the chaotic fluctuations in the malice Lands had ceased too. But the Ob had admitted one fault – the disappearance of the sun. This, they said, was due to the interference of ‘Risuri-backed terrorists’. (This disruption was to blame for any unfortunate incidents that had occurred in the aftermath of the Eclipse, such as the chaos reported from Crisillyir, following the mass-suicide of numerous hierarchs.) The centre of this New World Order was in Cherage, but the movement was not nationalistic, or Danoran. To demonstrate this, Nicodemus had invited the leaders of all nations to a Forward Symposium in just a few weeks’ time.
On his return to Flint, Rumdoom had also plucked up the courage to use the aboleth ‘tadpole’ his people had fixed. He understood the need for caution only too well, having once had such a device implanted in his neck, causing him to attempt to flood the city at the aboleth’s behest. But Rumdoom’s willpower was much stronger now, and he knew that nothing of that sort would happen this time. When he held the thing in place, near where his skull met his spine, it sprang to life and burrowed in, leaving only the black tail sticking out like a hair. Rumdoom then waited to see if any message was forthcoming.
Just a few second later, a meaning was transmitted, with a ‘volume’ and a force so intense it caused him to reel. Although purely telepathic in nature, and formed of thoughts not words, Rumdoom understood it at once. It said simply: “HELP US!”
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gideonpepys
Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.
Session 200, Part Three
What next?
Rumdoom was keen to do just exactly that – to help the Deep Ones and reclaim his wife. He had failed to track down Grandis Komanov (thus far) and failed to retrieve the Stone of Not, but perhaps he could capitalise on the aboleth’s fear of the gidim, and negotiate with a stronger hand?
Accessing the Cold Claw Sea would be impossible with She Who Writhes in the way, but the others were none-too-keen to remove her right away. Despite the disruption she caused to Risuri shipping, it remained advantageous to keep her in place defending Risur against naval invasion, especially in the light of what Rumdoom had learned.
They were concerned about the Voice of Rot, too. Now they knew where he had gone, and Jaques had already passed on Kasvarina’s message that they would need to follow her and ‘beat the Voice of Rot’, whatever that meant. Uriel considered excavating the Ziggurat of Apet, but before going to all that effort, they decided to have Leon take them to the Ziggurat of Avilona, through the portal Kasvarina had created in the Chamber of Dreams.
This windswept place, thousands of feet above sea-level, had been Kasvarina’s destination when she split from the group. They did not linger outside, where they could barely hear one another speak, but pressed on in through the darkest rectangle in the stonework, which itself formed a tiered silhouette against the deep charcoal of the night sky. Inside, the Ziggurat formed a single, vast, echoing chamber, with a hole at the apex. Immediately below this hole was a raised stone platform, intricately decorated with golden inlay. This had once been a magical transportation device, powered by the Ziggurat itself. Now it was defunct. Once again, Uriel used location loresight to establish that Kasvarina had come here and activated the device for the first time in many hundreds of years. She and Helandra had stood atop it and vanished with a flash. This final use had utterly drained the platform, perhaps even damaged it, as the target destination had been impossibly distant: Kasvarina had sent herself to the Gyre! (Well, thought Uriel, no point in excavating the swamp after all – Baden had merely been the titan’s first stepping stone, if Kasvarina was indeed trying to stop him, or head him off.)
Rumdoom still wanted to venture to the Cold Claw Sea. The rest of the group had begun to think that it might be necessary to find out what had happened on Axis Island. Neither of those things could be achieved while She Who Writhes was in the way.
The Best Laid Schemes…
As per Beshela’s invitation, they went down to the water’s edge and placed a bouquet of white lilies there. The archfey of the deep arose from the water atop the head of a giant octopus, surrounded by a half-dozen merfolk mounted on the backs of armoured seahorses. Beshela remained imperious, but Leon could see through her extravagant arrival: Previously, she had felt no need to convey an image of strength; doing so was a sign of her vulnerability. Beshela acknowledged that she had given them reason to distrust her, having tried to murder them three times. They could only think of two: her collusion with Duchess Ethelyn to blow up the Coaltongue; her attempt to sabotage the Impossible with a booby-trapped fey portal pad. The third, she confessed, was only half-hearted and took place when they were investigating the ‘death’ of Rock Rackus. (No, not the flooding of the Krog Tunnel – that was Thisraldion pretending to be her. She had masqueraded as Darbony and incited the Debauched Brotherhood to attack them.) “So, yeah, sorry about that… But you have to admit that if Duchess had been allowed to complete her coup, then the Obscurati might have been stopped a lot earlier.” This, then, was her motivation: to undo the Grand Design and return to the Dreaming. To that end she was willing to help them parley with her mistress. They decided to trust her and listened to her plan.
They travelled to Slate to discuss Beshela’s offer with the king and Harkover Lee. Harkover was at pains to stress that, while the slaying of Granny Allswell should not be lamented, her absence in the mountains made Risur more vulnerable to incursion from the South. (It would be a long time before Uru was powerful enough to take her place, and true power of the titanic kind would not accrue until he took up his proper place – although he had noticed some small changes already: he felt more vigorous, and by all estimations was at least an inch taller. He had already visited his fading garden and informed his four gardeners that they would soon be transferring to a much more impressive bit of real estate. And he had instructed his puppeteer friend Miss Fortune to spread a new tale to the children of Flint: the legend of Uncle Uru.) Harkover was keen to emphasise that they should not – even if they could – put paid to She Who Writhes in such a way. But the Principal Minister agreed that it would be useful to investigate what had happened on Axis Island. (He also took on board their potential need to find a way to travel off-planet, and promised to look into it.)
Beshela’s plan involved luring the kraken to shallow water. The easiest way to do this would be to put the king on a vessel; that would be enough to lure her close. There was a sandbank in the Ayres with a channel deep enough for a ship, but far too narrow for the titan. Having drawn her close, they could withdraw at speed and then pounce as She Who Writhes gave pursuit, catching her in the shallows. Beshela would then seek to commune with her mistress and convey the special urgency of their situation. This would take about a minute. Asrabey was confident he could protect her for long enough, but only if the kraken was otherwise distracted – which is where the unit came in.
With official permission granted, they put the navy on notice for the removal of She Who Writhes – they should be on the alert for an invasion. They gathered their forces on the Coaltongue and made contingency plans with Admiral Smith. Uru cast a water walking ritual on the whole team, and created a special version of the ritual for Big Jack. Asrabey arrived. He was the same as ever – arrogant and austere – but wore a magical crown to protect him from She Who Writhes. Beshela came aboard reluctantly, unhappy at having to set foot on a “chugging metal monstrosity”. Korrigan was last to come aboard, divided between his active, political and ceremonial duties. To ensure the Coaltongue was defended from the titan, he would remain aboard until she was a safe distance away; they would keep the brand charged and fire it only as a last resort. All aboard were nervous, especially the ordinary seamen. Everyone knew what She Who Writhes had done to the Danoran fleet…
…Gang Aft Agley
Things did not go according to plan. Horrible, alien noises heralded the kraken’s arrival – as did an ominous rushing bow-wave. Admiral Smith was loathe to turn about, and point the brand in the wrong direction, but aided by Beshela, the manoeuvre was incredibly swift and they were propelled through the channel at an equally impossible speed. But She Who Writhes did not follow and beach herself – instead, she vanished and reappeared on the other side of the sandbank, right in front of the Coaltongue!
With level-headed alacrity, Admiral Smith gave the order to fire the brand – even as the titan’s tentacles began to wrap around the prow. There was a great, fiery flash, a terrible noise and the stench of burning flesh, and the titan vanished. Fourmyle Jaunting! (And of the order familiar to the swift, such as Gully Foyle or Leon.)
Beshela said that if the titan returned, she could churn up the sea to prevent her mistress’ escape, but the brand had been fired and Admiral Smith was unwilling to linger like a sitting duck. They investigated the fey portal pad. They already knew it could still be used for its lesser function – to teleport a small force onto a nearby ship or surface – but no one knew if it could still be used to shunt the vessel into the Dreaming. This would afford the unit the opportunity to strike without risking the flagship. Closer examination was inconclusive. Both Leon and Uriel thought the attempt would work, but it might take longer for the ship to transition. If Korrigan used the powers vested in him as king in conjunction with the power of the portal pad, that might speed things up. So the Coaltongue would be safe, but what of She Who Writhes? Beshela could not churn the seas and commune with her at the same time; and how would they beach her?
Leon had the answer: he would attempt to teleport the titan onto the sandbank.
There was nothing to do now but wait for her to return. Beshela felt certain that she would, no matter how sorely the brand had injured her. But that type of injury would be slow to heal, and she would not attack again until it had done so. And so they waited in nervous silence.
Just over an hour later, the seas around the Coaltongue erupted in violent motion, as the titan grasped her from one side and began to pull. The vast ship listed, but did not tip thanks to Beshela. Before the tug-of-war could do some serious damage, Leon cast his spell upon the titan – bolstered by canny advice from Gupta, and an eschatological pronouncement from Rumdoom.
She Who Writhes vanished once again, and reappeared on top of the sandbank, disoriented only for a moment, before her tentacles reached for the Coaltongue once again, grasping it by the funnel. The unit and their allies stepped up to the portal pad and launched themselves at the titan, all save Uru, who leapt off the prow in Big Jack and rushed across the waves towards her.
Then, before the kraken could tear the ship apart, Korrigan invoked the pad’s major function, and the Coaltongue vanished.
The ship and her crew found themselves in sheer blackness, drifting through empty space. There was no air, no gravity; men began to float off the deck into nothingness; heavy equipment shifted about and struck people; they began to suffocate. The ship’s druid invoked a contingency he always reserved in the event of shipwreck. Suddenly everyone could breathe and speak. Smith and Korrigan took control. The ship’s mage used mage hand to draw floating sailors back onto the deck, and Korrigan flew around and grabbed those who were out of reach.
In the distance, they could see the Gyre. They appeared to be speeding towards it, though their motion was frictionless and so difficult to perceive. Hopefully, they would return to Lanjyr when the transition was over. Warmed by more cantrips, and bolstered by the presence of their king, they gathered together on the main deck and another, desperate waiting game began.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iB7E1D_3Na4
What next?
Rumdoom was keen to do just exactly that – to help the Deep Ones and reclaim his wife. He had failed to track down Grandis Komanov (thus far) and failed to retrieve the Stone of Not, but perhaps he could capitalise on the aboleth’s fear of the gidim, and negotiate with a stronger hand?
Accessing the Cold Claw Sea would be impossible with She Who Writhes in the way, but the others were none-too-keen to remove her right away. Despite the disruption she caused to Risuri shipping, it remained advantageous to keep her in place defending Risur against naval invasion, especially in the light of what Rumdoom had learned.
They were concerned about the Voice of Rot, too. Now they knew where he had gone, and Jaques had already passed on Kasvarina’s message that they would need to follow her and ‘beat the Voice of Rot’, whatever that meant. Uriel considered excavating the Ziggurat of Apet, but before going to all that effort, they decided to have Leon take them to the Ziggurat of Avilona, through the portal Kasvarina had created in the Chamber of Dreams.
This windswept place, thousands of feet above sea-level, had been Kasvarina’s destination when she split from the group. They did not linger outside, where they could barely hear one another speak, but pressed on in through the darkest rectangle in the stonework, which itself formed a tiered silhouette against the deep charcoal of the night sky. Inside, the Ziggurat formed a single, vast, echoing chamber, with a hole at the apex. Immediately below this hole was a raised stone platform, intricately decorated with golden inlay. This had once been a magical transportation device, powered by the Ziggurat itself. Now it was defunct. Once again, Uriel used location loresight to establish that Kasvarina had come here and activated the device for the first time in many hundreds of years. She and Helandra had stood atop it and vanished with a flash. This final use had utterly drained the platform, perhaps even damaged it, as the target destination had been impossibly distant: Kasvarina had sent herself to the Gyre! (Well, thought Uriel, no point in excavating the swamp after all – Baden had merely been the titan’s first stepping stone, if Kasvarina was indeed trying to stop him, or head him off.)
Rumdoom still wanted to venture to the Cold Claw Sea. The rest of the group had begun to think that it might be necessary to find out what had happened on Axis Island. Neither of those things could be achieved while She Who Writhes was in the way.
The Best Laid Schemes…
As per Beshela’s invitation, they went down to the water’s edge and placed a bouquet of white lilies there. The archfey of the deep arose from the water atop the head of a giant octopus, surrounded by a half-dozen merfolk mounted on the backs of armoured seahorses. Beshela remained imperious, but Leon could see through her extravagant arrival: Previously, she had felt no need to convey an image of strength; doing so was a sign of her vulnerability. Beshela acknowledged that she had given them reason to distrust her, having tried to murder them three times. They could only think of two: her collusion with Duchess Ethelyn to blow up the Coaltongue; her attempt to sabotage the Impossible with a booby-trapped fey portal pad. The third, she confessed, was only half-hearted and took place when they were investigating the ‘death’ of Rock Rackus. (No, not the flooding of the Krog Tunnel – that was Thisraldion pretending to be her. She had masqueraded as Darbony and incited the Debauched Brotherhood to attack them.) “So, yeah, sorry about that… But you have to admit that if Duchess had been allowed to complete her coup, then the Obscurati might have been stopped a lot earlier.” This, then, was her motivation: to undo the Grand Design and return to the Dreaming. To that end she was willing to help them parley with her mistress. They decided to trust her and listened to her plan.
They travelled to Slate to discuss Beshela’s offer with the king and Harkover Lee. Harkover was at pains to stress that, while the slaying of Granny Allswell should not be lamented, her absence in the mountains made Risur more vulnerable to incursion from the South. (It would be a long time before Uru was powerful enough to take her place, and true power of the titanic kind would not accrue until he took up his proper place – although he had noticed some small changes already: he felt more vigorous, and by all estimations was at least an inch taller. He had already visited his fading garden and informed his four gardeners that they would soon be transferring to a much more impressive bit of real estate. And he had instructed his puppeteer friend Miss Fortune to spread a new tale to the children of Flint: the legend of Uncle Uru.) Harkover was keen to emphasise that they should not – even if they could – put paid to She Who Writhes in such a way. But the Principal Minister agreed that it would be useful to investigate what had happened on Axis Island. (He also took on board their potential need to find a way to travel off-planet, and promised to look into it.)
Beshela’s plan involved luring the kraken to shallow water. The easiest way to do this would be to put the king on a vessel; that would be enough to lure her close. There was a sandbank in the Ayres with a channel deep enough for a ship, but far too narrow for the titan. Having drawn her close, they could withdraw at speed and then pounce as She Who Writhes gave pursuit, catching her in the shallows. Beshela would then seek to commune with her mistress and convey the special urgency of their situation. This would take about a minute. Asrabey was confident he could protect her for long enough, but only if the kraken was otherwise distracted – which is where the unit came in.
With official permission granted, they put the navy on notice for the removal of She Who Writhes – they should be on the alert for an invasion. They gathered their forces on the Coaltongue and made contingency plans with Admiral Smith. Uru cast a water walking ritual on the whole team, and created a special version of the ritual for Big Jack. Asrabey arrived. He was the same as ever – arrogant and austere – but wore a magical crown to protect him from She Who Writhes. Beshela came aboard reluctantly, unhappy at having to set foot on a “chugging metal monstrosity”. Korrigan was last to come aboard, divided between his active, political and ceremonial duties. To ensure the Coaltongue was defended from the titan, he would remain aboard until she was a safe distance away; they would keep the brand charged and fire it only as a last resort. All aboard were nervous, especially the ordinary seamen. Everyone knew what She Who Writhes had done to the Danoran fleet…
…Gang Aft Agley
Things did not go according to plan. Horrible, alien noises heralded the kraken’s arrival – as did an ominous rushing bow-wave. Admiral Smith was loathe to turn about, and point the brand in the wrong direction, but aided by Beshela, the manoeuvre was incredibly swift and they were propelled through the channel at an equally impossible speed. But She Who Writhes did not follow and beach herself – instead, she vanished and reappeared on the other side of the sandbank, right in front of the Coaltongue!
With level-headed alacrity, Admiral Smith gave the order to fire the brand – even as the titan’s tentacles began to wrap around the prow. There was a great, fiery flash, a terrible noise and the stench of burning flesh, and the titan vanished. Fourmyle Jaunting! (And of the order familiar to the swift, such as Gully Foyle or Leon.)
Beshela said that if the titan returned, she could churn up the sea to prevent her mistress’ escape, but the brand had been fired and Admiral Smith was unwilling to linger like a sitting duck. They investigated the fey portal pad. They already knew it could still be used for its lesser function – to teleport a small force onto a nearby ship or surface – but no one knew if it could still be used to shunt the vessel into the Dreaming. This would afford the unit the opportunity to strike without risking the flagship. Closer examination was inconclusive. Both Leon and Uriel thought the attempt would work, but it might take longer for the ship to transition. If Korrigan used the powers vested in him as king in conjunction with the power of the portal pad, that might speed things up. So the Coaltongue would be safe, but what of She Who Writhes? Beshela could not churn the seas and commune with her at the same time; and how would they beach her?
Leon had the answer: he would attempt to teleport the titan onto the sandbank.
There was nothing to do now but wait for her to return. Beshela felt certain that she would, no matter how sorely the brand had injured her. But that type of injury would be slow to heal, and she would not attack again until it had done so. And so they waited in nervous silence.
Just over an hour later, the seas around the Coaltongue erupted in violent motion, as the titan grasped her from one side and began to pull. The vast ship listed, but did not tip thanks to Beshela. Before the tug-of-war could do some serious damage, Leon cast his spell upon the titan – bolstered by canny advice from Gupta, and an eschatological pronouncement from Rumdoom.
She Who Writhes vanished once again, and reappeared on top of the sandbank, disoriented only for a moment, before her tentacles reached for the Coaltongue once again, grasping it by the funnel. The unit and their allies stepped up to the portal pad and launched themselves at the titan, all save Uru, who leapt off the prow in Big Jack and rushed across the waves towards her.
Then, before the kraken could tear the ship apart, Korrigan invoked the pad’s major function, and the Coaltongue vanished.
The ship and her crew found themselves in sheer blackness, drifting through empty space. There was no air, no gravity; men began to float off the deck into nothingness; heavy equipment shifted about and struck people; they began to suffocate. The ship’s druid invoked a contingency he always reserved in the event of shipwreck. Suddenly everyone could breathe and speak. Smith and Korrigan took control. The ship’s mage used mage hand to draw floating sailors back onto the deck, and Korrigan flew around and grabbed those who were out of reach.
In the distance, they could see the Gyre. They appeared to be speeding towards it, though their motion was frictionless and so difficult to perceive. Hopefully, they would return to Lanjyr when the transition was over. Warmed by more cantrips, and bolstered by the presence of their king, they gathered together on the main deck and another, desperate waiting game began.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iB7E1D_3Na4
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gideonpepys
Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.
Session 201, Part One - Waves of Rage
Soundtrack
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rd-rZmR6VRI
And so, without the support of their king, the unit charged across the dark choppy waters to fight the titan She Who Writhes. Fortunately, their goal was not to defeat her (for only a regent of Risur had ever succeeded in doing so) but to distract her for long enough for Beshela to commune with her. This was still a very dangerous proposition, as Uru was first to discover, when a titanic tentacle struck Big Jack with full force. The titan buster was robust enough to withstand the blow, but only just! He hacked at the limb with his titan-biter axe and the kraken screamed in anger.
Rumdoom and Quratulain began hammering and chopping at tentacles. Chopping worked best. Even though he was giant in size, Rumdoom was just tenderizing the titan. Quratulain was slicing her up, and using her magical blade to pry open her defences. The non-frontline unit members hung back for now, and supported as best they could. Leon opened up a dimension door to speed Beshela and Asrabey’s approach. Uriel girded himself with the power of his staff. Gupta took aim with Reason, but realised bullets would do little good here.
She Who Writhes flailed her titanic tentacles about dangerously, but smaller members writhed out too, to ensnare anyone within reach. Big Jack was struck again by a giant, flailing limb, and knocked over. Uru struggled to right the construct while alarm bells sounded in the cockpit. Meanwhile, Rumdoom was grabbed by a local tendril, yanked towards the titan’s maw and swallowed. Inside was a large cavity, lit by a bioluminescent female form. This figure was surrounded by others – writhing, mindless victims, rapt with physical ecstasy, responding to the same song that now called to Rumdoom, urging him to strip off his armour and join She Who Writhes in sexual congress. But the leader of a doom cult was not to be so easily swayed, and Rumdoom refused her advances with a powerful fiat.
Outside, Leon struck the titan with a variety of curses, while Uriel weaved through thrashing tentacles to distance himself from the others, so that they could not all be attacked with a single blow. Another giant limb struck Big Jack just as he stood up, and this time lifted the construct into their air and tossed it away like a wooden toy. The damage was critical; Uru ‘ejected’ with shadow walk, and sailed through the air on Little Jack. Down below, Big Jack crashed onto the surface of the water and broke into pieces.
Even this early, the unit was flagging – forced to fight off blows at every turn – but they had done the first part of their job: Beshela and Asrabey had reached the main body of the kraken, and Beshela had begun her communion. Amidst the chaos of battle and the continuing torrent of water, the spot where Beshela touched the titan’s face began to glow. For a moment, the contained storm calmed, and the tendrils that made up the face of She Who Writhes parted, revealing her interior, the titan’s feminine avatar (and Rumdoom).
“Mistress!” Beshela called out. “You have awakened to a world in peril. We are not your enemies! We need your aid to save all our lands from the threat of a great power. Please listen to my-”
Her communion was rudely interrupted. With a single lightning fast movement of his blade, Varal impaled the Beshela through the back. He rapidly intoned the syllables of some eladrin curse, and then underwent a hideous transformation: His skin changed from its usual deep olive to a blighted seaweed-green, and his cloak of smoke peeled away as shadowy tentacles erupt from his back. He shrugged Beshela’s body off his sword, dropping her body into She Who Writhes’ interior and proclaimed: “I am Asrabey Varal, Archfey of Obedience and loyal ally to the rulers of this new age! After centuries of spilling blood in vengeance, now I see the path of justice is one of order and control. We must obey the Obscurati! Champions of Risur, we have been allies, and I respect your devotion, but you walk the wrong path! You shall either abandon your rebellion, or you will taste my blade.”
Soundtrack
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rd-rZmR6VRI
And so, without the support of their king, the unit charged across the dark choppy waters to fight the titan She Who Writhes. Fortunately, their goal was not to defeat her (for only a regent of Risur had ever succeeded in doing so) but to distract her for long enough for Beshela to commune with her. This was still a very dangerous proposition, as Uru was first to discover, when a titanic tentacle struck Big Jack with full force. The titan buster was robust enough to withstand the blow, but only just! He hacked at the limb with his titan-biter axe and the kraken screamed in anger.
Rumdoom and Quratulain began hammering and chopping at tentacles. Chopping worked best. Even though he was giant in size, Rumdoom was just tenderizing the titan. Quratulain was slicing her up, and using her magical blade to pry open her defences. The non-frontline unit members hung back for now, and supported as best they could. Leon opened up a dimension door to speed Beshela and Asrabey’s approach. Uriel girded himself with the power of his staff. Gupta took aim with Reason, but realised bullets would do little good here.
She Who Writhes flailed her titanic tentacles about dangerously, but smaller members writhed out too, to ensnare anyone within reach. Big Jack was struck again by a giant, flailing limb, and knocked over. Uru struggled to right the construct while alarm bells sounded in the cockpit. Meanwhile, Rumdoom was grabbed by a local tendril, yanked towards the titan’s maw and swallowed. Inside was a large cavity, lit by a bioluminescent female form. This figure was surrounded by others – writhing, mindless victims, rapt with physical ecstasy, responding to the same song that now called to Rumdoom, urging him to strip off his armour and join She Who Writhes in sexual congress. But the leader of a doom cult was not to be so easily swayed, and Rumdoom refused her advances with a powerful fiat.
Outside, Leon struck the titan with a variety of curses, while Uriel weaved through thrashing tentacles to distance himself from the others, so that they could not all be attacked with a single blow. Another giant limb struck Big Jack just as he stood up, and this time lifted the construct into their air and tossed it away like a wooden toy. The damage was critical; Uru ‘ejected’ with shadow walk, and sailed through the air on Little Jack. Down below, Big Jack crashed onto the surface of the water and broke into pieces.
Even this early, the unit was flagging – forced to fight off blows at every turn – but they had done the first part of their job: Beshela and Asrabey had reached the main body of the kraken, and Beshela had begun her communion. Amidst the chaos of battle and the continuing torrent of water, the spot where Beshela touched the titan’s face began to glow. For a moment, the contained storm calmed, and the tendrils that made up the face of She Who Writhes parted, revealing her interior, the titan’s feminine avatar (and Rumdoom).
“Mistress!” Beshela called out. “You have awakened to a world in peril. We are not your enemies! We need your aid to save all our lands from the threat of a great power. Please listen to my-”
Her communion was rudely interrupted. With a single lightning fast movement of his blade, Varal impaled the Beshela through the back. He rapidly intoned the syllables of some eladrin curse, and then underwent a hideous transformation: His skin changed from its usual deep olive to a blighted seaweed-green, and his cloak of smoke peeled away as shadowy tentacles erupt from his back. He shrugged Beshela’s body off his sword, dropping her body into She Who Writhes’ interior and proclaimed: “I am Asrabey Varal, Archfey of Obedience and loyal ally to the rulers of this new age! After centuries of spilling blood in vengeance, now I see the path of justice is one of order and control. We must obey the Obscurati! Champions of Risur, we have been allies, and I respect your devotion, but you walk the wrong path! You shall either abandon your rebellion, or you will taste my blade.”
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