Manbearcat
Legend
You guys can sort out the potion, but I'm just going to assume that Saerie has it at this point.
Sounds like you guys are going to head up to the tower at this point and scout things out before hunting, trapping, and releasing the local wildlife away from here. Therefore, I'm just going to transition things to there.
Before I do that, however, I'll answer your question Saerie. You briefly explore the complex and you do indeed find what you anticipated. The goblin slaves were cordoned off in their own section while their Winter Fey masters possessed high-end quarters of their own. This area is below the freezing point at all times so ice constructs maintain their integrity. Enchanted ice-cages are among the spartan accommodations found in the cramped goblin hollow. The Winter Fey Eladrin unsurprisingly adorned their spacious quarters with beautiful ice-sculptures, ice-carved tables and chairs, lavish area rugs, tapestries, cushions, pillows, goblets, bowls, and other finery. The whole of it, that which won't melt that is, would fetch hundreds of gold on the open market.
Long story short, releasing trapped wildlife here is certainly reasonable.
On to the tower...
The final leg up the mountain is little more than a jaunt over a series of successive rises. The crunch of your feet on the snow and the rustle of the wind are the only sounds to fill the air. As you crest a particularly difficult rise, which involves a modicum of hand-climbing, you see a large (eg the size of an average dog) Arctic Snowshoe Hare emerging from its den. It turns its head this way and that, shedding a patch of snow from its body. She is definitely nursing leverets as her teats are swollen from the effort. Her ears perk up as she scans the horizon. Eyes lock with the members of your fellowship momentarily. Without warning, the hare pivots to face the rise behind it and, with a strange suddenness, she begins a bounding effort up that rise and then over it and out of view.
Sumitting that final incline reveals a great expanse of gently sloping land just below the mountain's peak. The hare leaves a conspicuous trail. A trail headed dead for the huge, black-as-night obelisk the stretches up from the perfectly white snow at the far end of this acreage. Even from this distance, you can see the ever-shifting glyphs that wash like waves (emerging then crashing and dissolving into nothingness) over the surface.
The white, black, grey, and gloom of the sky is cut by another color. Pink. The translucent tentacles, membranes, and cocoons that pervaded your existence many days ago are strewn here and there on this face. One particularly large one hangs from a series of huge boulders not far from the tower. The thing inside of it shifts heavily and the cocoon opens slightly, spilling forth some of the pink, see-through goop onto the white snow.
Circling the perimeter of the tower are several creatures, both predator and prey, both young and old; Musk Deer, Timber Wolves, Snow Leopards, another Arctic Snowshoe Hare. You count 10 in total. They should be skittish in the presence of each other. Or perhaps slaughtering each other. Their natural inclinations annihilated, they stand transfixed just a few paces from the tower. Swaying slightly. Silent.
The sounds. The awful sounds from World's End. They begin as the faintest of nudges, so insubstantial that you first believe you're hearing things. But they grow. And with that growth comes the tormenting images. Your minds want to unhinge and cast off the absurdities of this reality and the futile groping for meaning that comes with heightened awareness...
A celebratory half-screech/half-roar is heard that breaks the intensity and insanity of the moment. High above a great Wyvern circles, a goat in its mighty talons. A beat of its massive wingspan takes it to its lair on the peak.
Sounds like you guys are going to head up to the tower at this point and scout things out before hunting, trapping, and releasing the local wildlife away from here. Therefore, I'm just going to transition things to there.
Before I do that, however, I'll answer your question Saerie. You briefly explore the complex and you do indeed find what you anticipated. The goblin slaves were cordoned off in their own section while their Winter Fey masters possessed high-end quarters of their own. This area is below the freezing point at all times so ice constructs maintain their integrity. Enchanted ice-cages are among the spartan accommodations found in the cramped goblin hollow. The Winter Fey Eladrin unsurprisingly adorned their spacious quarters with beautiful ice-sculptures, ice-carved tables and chairs, lavish area rugs, tapestries, cushions, pillows, goblets, bowls, and other finery. The whole of it, that which won't melt that is, would fetch hundreds of gold on the open market.
Long story short, releasing trapped wildlife here is certainly reasonable.
On to the tower...
The final leg up the mountain is little more than a jaunt over a series of successive rises. The crunch of your feet on the snow and the rustle of the wind are the only sounds to fill the air. As you crest a particularly difficult rise, which involves a modicum of hand-climbing, you see a large (eg the size of an average dog) Arctic Snowshoe Hare emerging from its den. It turns its head this way and that, shedding a patch of snow from its body. She is definitely nursing leverets as her teats are swollen from the effort. Her ears perk up as she scans the horizon. Eyes lock with the members of your fellowship momentarily. Without warning, the hare pivots to face the rise behind it and, with a strange suddenness, she begins a bounding effort up that rise and then over it and out of view.
Sumitting that final incline reveals a great expanse of gently sloping land just below the mountain's peak. The hare leaves a conspicuous trail. A trail headed dead for the huge, black-as-night obelisk the stretches up from the perfectly white snow at the far end of this acreage. Even from this distance, you can see the ever-shifting glyphs that wash like waves (emerging then crashing and dissolving into nothingness) over the surface.
The white, black, grey, and gloom of the sky is cut by another color. Pink. The translucent tentacles, membranes, and cocoons that pervaded your existence many days ago are strewn here and there on this face. One particularly large one hangs from a series of huge boulders not far from the tower. The thing inside of it shifts heavily and the cocoon opens slightly, spilling forth some of the pink, see-through goop onto the white snow.
Circling the perimeter of the tower are several creatures, both predator and prey, both young and old; Musk Deer, Timber Wolves, Snow Leopards, another Arctic Snowshoe Hare. You count 10 in total. They should be skittish in the presence of each other. Or perhaps slaughtering each other. Their natural inclinations annihilated, they stand transfixed just a few paces from the tower. Swaying slightly. Silent.
The sounds. The awful sounds from World's End. They begin as the faintest of nudges, so insubstantial that you first believe you're hearing things. But they grow. And with that growth comes the tormenting images. Your minds want to unhinge and cast off the absurdities of this reality and the futile groping for meaning that comes with heightened awareness...
A celebratory half-screech/half-roar is heard that breaks the intensity and insanity of the moment. High above a great Wyvern circles, a goat in its mighty talons. A beat of its massive wingspan takes it to its lair on the peak.
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