WotBS Bonus Time's Burning Sky

[VicsHacienda]

The Laboratory in the Wind, Except It's Not​

A tower rises from jagged rocks, sixty paces high. A balcony can be seen. We hope Caella is too busy to look out the windows. Strong winds blow from above. We approach, while Viggo sees through his familiar's eyes. I take his arm and walk alongside, moving the blinded wizard along.

The familiar cannot see inside, and there appears to be no other entrances at ground level. A trap door is on top of the tower. The owl circles the balcony, which is blocked by tapestries and draperies. Should we knock? We are here to confront her for kidnapping people from the town, according to Pilus.

Fafnir steps up to bang on the door, and promptly falls into an opening that suddenly yawns before him. Who's building a pit before a laboratory? But the fall is worse than that, for he plummets into nothing! It is as if the ground has swallowed him. I try to leap forward to grab him, but Viggo is faster, and casts a weird form of feather fall, which lets Fafnir sprout wing flaps that glide him down gently.

I step ahead carefully, testing the ground. The stone edifice is solid for me, but the others have deduced that the tower is an illusion. I can tell the ground ahead tapers and dies.

Once we realize the deception, we can see down into a wide pit sixty paces down, with a bed of icy spikes. A solid door stands to the east. Fafnir has settled on the ice below, surrounded by bluish bearded creatures like ice dwarves. Trevor carefully slides down, using his whip and his boots and his luck, and crashes with some grace onto the snow below. He peers at the creatures, and falls into a defensive stance.

One of the ice dwarves blasts a chilling wind at Trevor, who grits his teeth against the cold. Another blasts Fafnir, whose boots protect him.

Viggo casts vital conduit, and a pulsing, living orifice of tissue opens up, creating a passage between the lip of the chasm and the pit below. A fleshy door opens at the opposite end. It is warm and can be traversed, but I do not love this spell or its aesthetic. Viggo seems to love accomplishing things in the most uncomfortable manner.

Osnald leaps through and runs, granting bardic inspiration to Trevor at the bottom of the unholy passage.

Fafnir heals himself with a second wind, and brings forth his swirling angelic bullish heads. Two of the dwarves are within their reach. One of them unleashes his chilling wind, which roars across the pit floor; its full force slams into the cleric. Another does so from the shadows.

Trevor whips the creature nearest him, holding it in place. It responds with a cold blast, and Trevor takes the brunt of it. With hunter's mark flaring, I fire an arrow into the creature's chest, then another into its mouth. It sinks, dead. Trevor recoils his whip. He advances to the second creature and lays into it with scimitar and shortsword. It lays some form of magical misfortune upon him for touching it. It then slams him with its fists. The Living Blade responds with the Forest's Rebuke, turning its damage back on it and killing it. Trevor looks down, watching its icy composition melt. He recognizes it as a dwarf from Seaquen, somehow transformed into this mishap creature.

Fafnir's angels beat up on another of the mishaps, who tries to slam the cleric but bruises its fists against his armor. Viggo, remaining up at the top of the cliff with me (for different reasons, but he doesn't want to be near his opponents either), throws a mind whip below and holds the creatures in place. Osnald heals Trevor with a healing word and mocks the mishap in the shadows.

Fafnir swings Einherjar with a booming blade, and invokes the curse even while it dies. He moves carefully so as not to include any friends in another cold blast. His angels batter another mishap, which breathes cold on him.

The mishap in the shadows, slowed by Viggo's spell, breathes cold as well onto Fafnir, who is bloodied by blizzards. I slay it with two arrows, pinning it to the cave wall. Ice sloughs from its body, revealing a human.

Trevor closes with the last mishap, plunging his shortsword and slashing with the Living Blade. It dies under wood and steel. "I thought they smelled bad on the outside!" he cries.

 

[VicsHacienda]

We come to the realization that this group of creatures might have been the first group sent from Seaquen on this mission, and feel some regret for killing them. But we couldn't have known, for they thawed out only upon death.

More Sickly Laboratory Scenery, Which Viggo Loves​

A large cold metal door lies to the east, etched with symbols of clouds and wind. Beyond, I can faintly hear liquid boiling. Osnald detects no trap, so works at it with his toolkit. Bolts of lightning leap from the lock to strike him, Viggo, and me. I shudder in my chain armor, Osnald is blasted back on his rump, and Viggo mutters an arcane curse.

Fafnir opens the door, revealing a long darkened hall, eerily silent. Along its walls strangely colored liquid bubbles in containers. Dozens of square glass tanks of viscous green fluid fill the floor, sprouting hoses. Dark shapes float and twitch within. Catwalks stretch along the walls above. The ceiling rises forty feet above, revealing a huge glowing orb crackling with lightning stuck to it. Viggo identifies it as a second Orb of Storms being created.

More goons trying to bring storms onto the land. What's in it for them, I wonder.

We head toward the catwalks to the south, seeing a vast pool of green fluid that is less full than it was. Double doors lie to the east, but we must descend to the floor to get to them. To the north another grid of vats lie, larger than the main hall.

We descend. Fafnir walks by one of the medium vats and peers inside. Through the distorted fluid of the vat, Osnald and Trevor spot something moving within, a large creature. Horns stretch from its head. It erupts from one of the larger vats, its lower torso vaporous. Its flesh is icy white and it wields a hammer. It charges at Viggo.

Trevor leaps ahead and whips at the creature, managing to snag a solid part. He yanks the whip taut, holding it fast. It gives a sneering bellow and swings its hammer and horned head at Viggo, tearing at him. The wizard falls, stricken. The creature then becomes a misty cloud, slipping free of its restraint.

Osnald points a finger from above and lights the gaseous figure with faerie fire. It is quick, and dodges, but ends up glowing after Osnald follows up with silvery barbs.

I run to the south and leap onto the stairs for a higher vantage point, spinning and sending two arrows through its vaporous hide. They clatter on the floor beyond. Trevor follows with lightning-quick slashes of shortsword and scimitar. Fafnir tears around several vats and swings his own hammer crackling with thunder. Bull spirits rise around him.

The creature lapses into physical form. Its hammer swings at Trevor, almost lifting him from the floor.

Osnald casts healing word from above on Viggo, who stirs. The bard then mocks the creature, calling it a colorful fart. I take the opportunity to add two arrows to its physical form.

Trevor moves in front of Viggo to cover him, and slashes the Living Blade and his shortsword through the horned monster in single ellipses. The wizard regains his feet and staggers away under the stairs to down a healing potion.

Fafnir keeps laying on hands in the form of Einherjar, thumping the creature twice. It tries to gore and strike him in return, dealing little damage, then flies upward, trying to escape, Nuada's thunder booming. Fafnir and Trevor both give it another crack.

Osnald mocks it again. "Know what's worse than naughty word? A bull fart!"

It roars in outrage before a final arrow takes it in the tailbone. It crumples, parts of it dissipating, leaving the upper half of a horned creature on the tile. Trevor and Viggo collect my spent arrows. Fafnir and I cure Viggo.

Viggo notices that the vats have inscriptions on them, in strange anagrams: For Signus. We recall that name as the leader of the Ragesian army.

The Tower Ground Floor, With An Unwelcome Rug​

We run up to the double doors and listen. Osnald looks—carefully—for traps. Trevor hauls one open.

An ornate, circular room lies beyond like the bottom of a tower. Hanging from the ceiling is a sculpture of an eagle and dragon pursuing each other in a circle. Columns support a second floor. Columns of neatly lined books line the walls, and a stairway leads up the wall. A balcony above overlooks the entry.

An elaborate rug lies just within. Fafnir strides in onto the rug, which suddenly curls upward, wrapping itself around him to smother him. He keeps his head free, grunting. Trevor lashes it with his whip, trying to somehow hold it in place, and brings the Living Blade down on it. Osnald hurls his dagger at it. I stab it with my shortsword, thinking to pin it to the floor, and it flaps and lies still.

Viggo looks closely at the books with interest. He judges them mostly to be books on weather with some arcane flourishes, and stashes a few.

Osnald and I notice a slight distortion above where the second floor balcony is. A woman's voice sounds. "You don’t understand the concept of 'Forbidden Valley,' do you? The others before you were as tenacious, though not nearly as useful. You defeated scores of Ragesians, which earns you the favor of my master. But all your predecessors accomplished was to guard the entrance to this laboratory for a few days before you killed them. When this is over, for those of you I haven't killed, I shall be creative when crafting your new form! A pity—if you hadn’t come here, you might have managed to retrieve the Torch. With that in his possession, no empire could stand against my master. There has long been too much war and suffering in this world. It is time we ended it."

Wordy, she is.

Trevor slides over to the stairs, preparing to ascend. Osnald follows.

 

[VicsHacienda]

Caella, Displeased​

Hoping to keep her talking, I remain downstairs, calling up to her. "We agree that there's too much war. Who's your master, and what's the plan?" My friends dash up the stairs around the tower's interior.

I can barely see what's going on, but lightning, bullish angels, bright blinding rays, and other energetic magics start flaring upstairs. We aren't going to be friendly, I'm guessing.

Caella leaps gracefully off the loft wall and lands before me. I fire twice in her direction, hitting once. I see lightning crackling over her in some kind of shield.

Fafnir immediately follows, hurtling over the wall and landing atop her, his angels following with flared nostrils. He casts aura of protection and destruction, the favorite Nuadan blessing of warmongers and purveyors of extreme violence. He swings Einherjar with both hands with godly accuracy. Blood sprays. I feel the impact of Fafnir's hammer through the floor; I have never seen it land so hard.

The storm outside, reacting to her actions and emotions, suddenly surges in the lab room behind. A giant lightning bolt fills the building and shatters several containers. Glass shards pepper the loft, and wind whips the room.

Trevor peers over the wall, calculates, and leaps down to the floor next to Fafnir and Caella, crunching glass under his feet. He quickly heals himself before letting her have it with menacing slices of the Living Blade. Her eyes glaze after his frenzied attacks. He pushes his glass-studded foot into her and pushes her to the ground. "And that's how you gain peace!"

"Great thinking, Fafnir!" he says, panting.

"Roawr!" the cleric agrees.

We look down at her with mixed feelings, and can feel the entire laboratory rumble. From the broken ceiling above a gigantic rush of air and pressure from the unsteady storm slams down upon us. I duck beneath the door frame while my friends cringe.

The Orb of Storms, Displeased​

The Orb of Storms grows restless, hanging above the laboratory hall. Now that its linchpin is gone, it begins acting wildly. Viggo thinks its growing power is not a good thing. He decides we can try to stabilize it, destroy it, or abandon it and run. Osnald comes running down the stairs.

Not knowing how best to deal with another giant magical storm-related artifact losing its temper, I run over to Trevor and heal him. Fafnir places a bloody palm on him as well. Why are we always threatened by weather?

The pressure spikes again, making our ears pop. Osnald cries out. Trevor dashes out into the room with the green containers, peering up at the Orb and deciding how to help. Boosted by magic, he begins leaping up to the catwalk levels.

Osnald, exhausted with bleeding ears, runs toward the doors. I look up, ignorant of how to help. Viggo makes it downstairs to the tower floor. Fafnir leaps down to the lab floor, nearly rolling an ankle but walking it off.

The Orb flares, and gravity itself goes haywire. I back against the doorframe, while Osnald and Viggo are knocked prone and slide backward.

Trevor runs up underneath the Orb and tries to brace it. Wind and lightning tear around his slim form as he stands on the catwalk, hands upraised.

Viggo calls to us, reading Caella's notes, telling us what we can do to stabilize the Orb, with what skills we have: knowledge of the arcane, our athletics, our spells, our will.

Osnald regains his feet and makes it outside the tower, breathing hard. Needing to get closer, I jump down to the floor below and run toward the stairs that lead to the catwalks.

The Orb pulses again. Trevor is slammed to the catwalk, but rises, using his arcane knowledge to manipulate the giant sphere.

I turn and cast longstrider on the slowed Osnald, then dash up the catwalk stairs. Fafnir reaches the Orb and grasps it with strong arms, holding it in place. The Orb flashes irritably, sending a wave through the hall. I stagger against the wall, nearly toppling from the catwalk. Osnald is blasted backward, but rallies and pushes ahead. He gains the stairs. I pull away from the wall and run past. Viggo reaches him.

Trevor joins Fafnir, raising his arms and straining to hold the bucking sphere. Fafnir grimaces at the Orb, casting guidance on himself and trusting in Nuada to calm the situation. Unfortunately, Nuada is not strong on calming anything, and the Orb batters him for his efforts.

The Orb flashes another wave, and I stand firm. Osnald unfortunately is hurled off the catwalk to land heavily on the tile below.

Trevor uses his arcane knowledge again, and finds a thread of understanding, locking the patterns in his head.

The Orb's lightning collapses, and the storm outside weakens. The laboratory stands.