Eschton [mature] IC - Calling Arabesu
- Thread starter Voidrazor
- Start date
Her great spiked chain still spinning Serraphina bides, slightly crouched and ready to strike. "If you have not been controlled Karnak, then you have been snowed. That is no girl! Its an illusion covering a foul aberration. And it has been attempting to breach my psychic defenses this entire time."
A moment later the unicorns stagger, tossing their heads in stunned dismay.
Sigil 22
Girl 13
Arhaux 12
Unicorns 22 (stunned)
Karnak (delay)
Ooze Creature (ready/delay)
Serraphina (delay)
A moment later the unicorns stagger, tossing their heads in stunned dismay.
Sigil 22
Girl 13
Arhaux 12
Unicorns 22 (stunned)
Karnak (delay)
Ooze Creature (ready/delay)
Serraphina (delay)
Arabesu
Registered User
Within the hollow interior of a mile wide comet hurtling though space...
The architect waited in the lobby to the master’s private chambers. The githzerai secretary had continued meditating on her mat as he had entered. He knew not to disturb The Master or his secretary while they were in meditation. Instead he sat down on the nearest straw mat and gazed out through the large crystalline window. Beyond he saw the flaming Orb, his hated enemy, trapped at the center of Placidio. He imagined for a moment how this world looked to the systems they passed: a thousand men and women focusing their mental effort toward adjusting the inertia of the colossal comet within which they traveled.
Unconsciously he fingered his short length of chain counting the links like some ancient rosary. The cold iron links felt hot in his fiendish fingers and when he reached the last of the seven links he continued fondling the first with a mounting perverse glee. Since the secretary was preoccupied, he relaxed his tight control of his unnerving gaze. He wondered what image she would have beheld had she opened his eyes: a lover, a friend, a parent? He smoothed out his apron around him nervously. Did the master know how much metal he had sown into his gown? Did it violate the pact? He snickered to himself and then reverted his form to that of the naïve young man, his most frequent affected personae.
“His holiness, will see you now.” Chimed the voice of the secretary in his head. How rude! She had not even asked to intrude upon his thoughts. He thought back at her just a bit too forcefully, “THANK YOU. YOU MAY RETURN TO YOUR MEDITATIONS.”
Her reply, spoken out loud to emphasize the sardonic tone: “I know.”
Getting up just a bit too quickly The Architect floated up a few inches in the light gravity. He waited to settle back down to the floor while the secretary smiled back at him.
The master sat cross-legged on the tiny raised platform at the far end of the room.
The chamber was very cold, but neither the master nor the architect noticed. The chamber was situated in the outermost shell of Placidio, near the axis of rotation. Few would enjoy the cold near weightlessness of the chamber, but the master was clearly at home here. The architect pocketed the links in his apron to allow himself to concentrate and step-floated into the room.
“Master,” he croaked nervously, “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
Tryrroth Khan Buddha, Master of Placidio replied calmly, “Whichever.”
The Architect paused for a moment composing his thoughts before continuing, “As you may have heard, there was an accident yesterday. Work shoring up the base of the hall of records had been proceeding as planned until a large segment of the stone crumbled during refurbishment. The shock broke loose a large section of outer shell and caused a minor breach. The hole was quickly sealed…”
“Get to the point. How much ice did we lose?”
“Several thousand liters broke off from the shell, but that was not the real problem. The banker has estimated that we lost over a thousand cubic meters of atmosphere before we could seal the hole.” The architect paused to let the news settle in.
Tyrroth calculated quickly, “So we lost nearly two years worth of atmospheric water during this accident?”
With trepidation, The Architect continued, “There is more. During the accident, two of the brethren were crushed. By the time the hounds arrived, one was already dead. The other is stable and is in the care of the adepts.”
Tyrroth smiled, “So did you bring his body to Eleven?”
“No Sir, I was called away…”
Still smiling: “Tell the truth, Kyton, before I summon in Cyclone to rend you into pieces so small that it will take you a week to regenerate.”
“It was my fault, your Holiness. I was stoneshaping a section that I thought was sufficiently buttressed.”
“There. That wasn’t so difficult. You will ask the Eleven to revive him if it is within her ken… stop sending mentally! Go to her. Speak. To. Her. Use your voice. I want you to supplicate yourself the Eleven. When the spirit is revived, compensate her for her strains from your own funds. Shore up the weakened section with new stone. We will get water elsewhere.”
“There is no more to use. Stone that is.” With a wicked grin the architect continued, “Unless you want me to evict those who live in that section and shape their towers down to slabs.”
Annoyed at the architect, the master snapped uncharacteristically, “NO! We will get more. Somewhere. I will purchase some.” Mentally Tyrroth contacted his banker, the Djinni, named Rothman.
“Rothman, see to it that the water lost in the recent accident is replaced and buy some stone. Don’t bother purchasing it as ice unless you can get a bargain; I will transmute it if I have to. Sell off the last of the gold denary if you need to.”
“Is that all?” Tyrroth asked the architect.
“The-good-news-is-that-the-breach-did-not-hinder-our-acceleration. In-fact-it-helped-us-somewhat.” Slurred the architect, his words stumbling after each other in a great haste to leave his mouth, “We gained 0.1 G centripetal enhancement bringing equatorial gravity to 0.4 of standard up from 0.35. There was also an enhancement in our current course vector of 0.03G. We will need to apply a 1 mG correction at some time within the next day or so, but that should be trivial and the adjustments to meditation schedules have already been implemented.”
His eyes were seething with impatience and yet still the master smiled: “Very well. Now be gone, Kyton. And do not even think of asking for another link. I know it has been over a decade since I granted you one, but your service of late has not satisfied your end of the contract. Be careful. Should I choose, I would let you find yourself too close to the Orb. We wouldn’t want your hated enemy getting a hold of you would we?”
Once the architect had gone, Tyrroth allowed his smiling face to relax into a scowl. How had that infernal fiend provoked him so? He was a 13th level pa’oo capable of suppressing his emotions to the core of his soul. And yet the fiend had done it this time. Thinking back he figured it out; the architect had let slip his unnerving gaze as he described the accident and for an instant, the master had subconsciously beheld his tutor, Confucius the 3rd. How dare he! He felt that he needed to unwind… somewhere else.
Tyrroth became gaseous and floated out of the chamber through the cracks in the stone walls. Today the “sky” was uncharacteristically clear; he could see all the way to the vine covered towers on the far side; he was the only cloud in the sky. It must have rained very recently. Soon the clouds would reform, condense into precipitation and the cycle would continue.
Just then he noticed a number of shapes hovering on the far side near the axis of rotation. He sped toward them, thinking that there had been another accident. As he crossed the mile gap, steering clear of the Orb, he discovered that they were children playing in the null gravity. He slowed to watch them for a time. They took no notice, evidently assuming he was an ordinary cloud, albeit faintly bespeckled blue.
They were practicing their katas and forms, but in a way undisciplined and childish; It was play to them. Suddenly it occurred to him how important this must be to those spirits who lived here: to train with the casual enthusiasm of a child but eventually giving in to the rigors of monastic life and the discipline associated with it. He thought of formalizing this exercise in enthusiasm, but then immediately realized the impossibility and irony of such an effort. He began to corporealize so that he could praise the children more formally.
The children gasped. Presumably a few of them recognized him from their studies. In zero gravity he drifted toward them. Those who were on the periphery cast out a few drift-stones to send themselves floating toward the cluster that he was approaching. As he got very close, he began the classical form, bending his knees and arms and rotating hands in the delicately graceful Tai Chi. One of the youngest had researched the ancient form on the Psi-Web, and began to show the older children. Soon a dozen small figures floated within Placidio in graceful motions… Tyrroth Khan Buddha at the center of them.
The architect waited in the lobby to the master’s private chambers. The githzerai secretary had continued meditating on her mat as he had entered. He knew not to disturb The Master or his secretary while they were in meditation. Instead he sat down on the nearest straw mat and gazed out through the large crystalline window. Beyond he saw the flaming Orb, his hated enemy, trapped at the center of Placidio. He imagined for a moment how this world looked to the systems they passed: a thousand men and women focusing their mental effort toward adjusting the inertia of the colossal comet within which they traveled.
Unconsciously he fingered his short length of chain counting the links like some ancient rosary. The cold iron links felt hot in his fiendish fingers and when he reached the last of the seven links he continued fondling the first with a mounting perverse glee. Since the secretary was preoccupied, he relaxed his tight control of his unnerving gaze. He wondered what image she would have beheld had she opened his eyes: a lover, a friend, a parent? He smoothed out his apron around him nervously. Did the master know how much metal he had sown into his gown? Did it violate the pact? He snickered to himself and then reverted his form to that of the naïve young man, his most frequent affected personae.
“His holiness, will see you now.” Chimed the voice of the secretary in his head. How rude! She had not even asked to intrude upon his thoughts. He thought back at her just a bit too forcefully, “THANK YOU. YOU MAY RETURN TO YOUR MEDITATIONS.”
Her reply, spoken out loud to emphasize the sardonic tone: “I know.”
Getting up just a bit too quickly The Architect floated up a few inches in the light gravity. He waited to settle back down to the floor while the secretary smiled back at him.
The master sat cross-legged on the tiny raised platform at the far end of the room.
The chamber was very cold, but neither the master nor the architect noticed. The chamber was situated in the outermost shell of Placidio, near the axis of rotation. Few would enjoy the cold near weightlessness of the chamber, but the master was clearly at home here. The architect pocketed the links in his apron to allow himself to concentrate and step-floated into the room.
“Master,” he croaked nervously, “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
Tryrroth Khan Buddha, Master of Placidio replied calmly, “Whichever.”
The Architect paused for a moment composing his thoughts before continuing, “As you may have heard, there was an accident yesterday. Work shoring up the base of the hall of records had been proceeding as planned until a large segment of the stone crumbled during refurbishment. The shock broke loose a large section of outer shell and caused a minor breach. The hole was quickly sealed…”
“Get to the point. How much ice did we lose?”
“Several thousand liters broke off from the shell, but that was not the real problem. The banker has estimated that we lost over a thousand cubic meters of atmosphere before we could seal the hole.” The architect paused to let the news settle in.
Tyrroth calculated quickly, “So we lost nearly two years worth of atmospheric water during this accident?”
With trepidation, The Architect continued, “There is more. During the accident, two of the brethren were crushed. By the time the hounds arrived, one was already dead. The other is stable and is in the care of the adepts.”
Tyrroth smiled, “So did you bring his body to Eleven?”
“No Sir, I was called away…”
Still smiling: “Tell the truth, Kyton, before I summon in Cyclone to rend you into pieces so small that it will take you a week to regenerate.”
“It was my fault, your Holiness. I was stoneshaping a section that I thought was sufficiently buttressed.”
“There. That wasn’t so difficult. You will ask the Eleven to revive him if it is within her ken… stop sending mentally! Go to her. Speak. To. Her. Use your voice. I want you to supplicate yourself the Eleven. When the spirit is revived, compensate her for her strains from your own funds. Shore up the weakened section with new stone. We will get water elsewhere.”
“There is no more to use. Stone that is.” With a wicked grin the architect continued, “Unless you want me to evict those who live in that section and shape their towers down to slabs.”
Annoyed at the architect, the master snapped uncharacteristically, “NO! We will get more. Somewhere. I will purchase some.” Mentally Tyrroth contacted his banker, the Djinni, named Rothman.
“Rothman, see to it that the water lost in the recent accident is replaced and buy some stone. Don’t bother purchasing it as ice unless you can get a bargain; I will transmute it if I have to. Sell off the last of the gold denary if you need to.”
“Is that all?” Tyrroth asked the architect.
“The-good-news-is-that-the-breach-did-not-hinder-our-acceleration. In-fact-it-helped-us-somewhat.” Slurred the architect, his words stumbling after each other in a great haste to leave his mouth, “We gained 0.1 G centripetal enhancement bringing equatorial gravity to 0.4 of standard up from 0.35. There was also an enhancement in our current course vector of 0.03G. We will need to apply a 1 mG correction at some time within the next day or so, but that should be trivial and the adjustments to meditation schedules have already been implemented.”
His eyes were seething with impatience and yet still the master smiled: “Very well. Now be gone, Kyton. And do not even think of asking for another link. I know it has been over a decade since I granted you one, but your service of late has not satisfied your end of the contract. Be careful. Should I choose, I would let you find yourself too close to the Orb. We wouldn’t want your hated enemy getting a hold of you would we?”
Once the architect had gone, Tyrroth allowed his smiling face to relax into a scowl. How had that infernal fiend provoked him so? He was a 13th level pa’oo capable of suppressing his emotions to the core of his soul. And yet the fiend had done it this time. Thinking back he figured it out; the architect had let slip his unnerving gaze as he described the accident and for an instant, the master had subconsciously beheld his tutor, Confucius the 3rd. How dare he! He felt that he needed to unwind… somewhere else.
Tyrroth became gaseous and floated out of the chamber through the cracks in the stone walls. Today the “sky” was uncharacteristically clear; he could see all the way to the vine covered towers on the far side; he was the only cloud in the sky. It must have rained very recently. Soon the clouds would reform, condense into precipitation and the cycle would continue.
Just then he noticed a number of shapes hovering on the far side near the axis of rotation. He sped toward them, thinking that there had been another accident. As he crossed the mile gap, steering clear of the Orb, he discovered that they were children playing in the null gravity. He slowed to watch them for a time. They took no notice, evidently assuming he was an ordinary cloud, albeit faintly bespeckled blue.
They were practicing their katas and forms, but in a way undisciplined and childish; It was play to them. Suddenly it occurred to him how important this must be to those spirits who lived here: to train with the casual enthusiasm of a child but eventually giving in to the rigors of monastic life and the discipline associated with it. He thought of formalizing this exercise in enthusiasm, but then immediately realized the impossibility and irony of such an effort. He began to corporealize so that he could praise the children more formally.
The children gasped. Presumably a few of them recognized him from their studies. In zero gravity he drifted toward them. Those who were on the periphery cast out a few drift-stones to send themselves floating toward the cluster that he was approaching. As he got very close, he began the classical form, bending his knees and arms and rotating hands in the delicately graceful Tai Chi. One of the youngest had researched the ancient form on the Psi-Web, and began to show the older children. Soon a dozen small figures floated within Placidio in graceful motions… Tyrroth Khan Buddha at the center of them.
)As Tyrroth flows slowly from one form to the next, reflected by the young Gith around him, the subtle buzz of a psi-web contact request, threatens to disturb his meditation. There was always a queue of those who wished to speak with the master of Placidio. But this message rose to the level of consciousness because automatic predictive filtering had tagged it as highly likely to prove useful. It is from one Governor Argus Oloriel Starzaeon of Kal'e'zant. Though, Tyrroth is generally held in high regard among the vast ranks of the Autarchis, rare indeed is direct contact from one who manages one of the the Eschaton's core worlds.
(Assuming Tyrroth answers)
The mental contact is reminiscent of a gentle but brisk mountain breeze ringing pure crystalline chimes. "Lord Buddha, my thanks for taking the call. Rather than sidle into it, I'd like to be frank, if I may. A few of my fellow Citizens in the Ixylyr-Alaeon-Otajan system are in the midst of confronting what appears to be a colony ship sent by the Lords of the Outer Dark. By any chance have you seen the feed provided by Citizen Melanoce?"
(OOC: you can pull up the info on everything Melanoce has sent and view it in a moment over the psi-web.)
(Assuming Tyrroth answers)
The mental contact is reminiscent of a gentle but brisk mountain breeze ringing pure crystalline chimes. "Lord Buddha, my thanks for taking the call. Rather than sidle into it, I'd like to be frank, if I may. A few of my fellow Citizens in the Ixylyr-Alaeon-Otajan system are in the midst of confronting what appears to be a colony ship sent by the Lords of the Outer Dark. By any chance have you seen the feed provided by Citizen Melanoce?"
(OOC: you can pull up the info on everything Melanoce has sent and view it in a moment over the psi-web.)
Arabesu
Registered User
Tyrroth does answer and now that he has had a good chance to recover from his meeting with that despicable kyton, he dedicates his attention to the contact while his subconscious-muscle memory continues the form.
"Citizen Starzaeon, directness is always appreciated. Water does not flow up hill but instead through the valley."
Tyrroth studies the feed for a moment and upon realizing the gravity of the situation decides to process the data less casually and more methodically.* His years of training and intellectual strength allow him to fully divide his emotions from his capacity for reason. Thus, while his rational side processes the images, reports, and flight logs, his intuition combs the same data along with any recorded engrams for consistency, validity, and truth.
He has lived a long time. One would assume that little could surprise or shock him at this point, but nevertheless the feed from Melanoce affects him deeply. The corpuscular throbbing of the alien ship combined with its non-Euclidean geometry and clear violation the known laws of space-time solidify for him the vast dread mounting from both paths of his mind; his rational side immediately processes IT as a THING THAT COULD NOT BE, while his intuition forces him to retch mentally and deem IT as a THING THAT SHOULD NOT BE.
"Undoubtedly, you contacted me because of my history with hunting down those who would damage souls. Perhaps you know of my background, but if you don't I will save my telling of it for another more convenient time. Thus the threat of the Lords of the Outer Dark colonizing even a molecule of our universe would be expected to pique my interest. In all truth it does, but if I am to risk both myself and the lives of the spirits in my dominion, I would need something in return."
"Normally I would never stretch to be so mercenary, but we have needs on Placidio that must urgently be addressed. You world is vast and well stocked with water, a resource that you have judiciously and wisely conserved as would be expected for a thoughtful ruler. If I am to intercede, I would desire 100 million liters of crude water or sea water and the services of one who can arrange for the transport of such quantities as liquid or ice. I understand that this would be but a pittance to a citizen of your standing."
OOC: Diplomacy 1d20+25
"Assuming that this can be arranged I can be in the vicinity within moments. Forward to me the contact info of your liaison at the site I will make the necessary arrangement for my own arrival."
[sblock=OOC: * Knowledge checks etc, I presume, to assess the capabilities and weaknesses of the ship and its occupants observed through Melanoce's feed... ]
using collector of Stories to improve the most relevant skill (The Planes or Psionics?)
Knowledge (arcana) 1d20+22 or +27 (if using Collector of Stories)
Knowledge (dungeoneering) 1d20+17 or +22 (“)
Knowledge (local) 1d20+17 or +22 (“)
Knowledge (nature) 1d20+17 or +22 (“)
Knowledge (religion) 1d20+22 or +27 (“)
Knowledge (The Planes) 1d20+22 or +27 (“)
Knowledge (Psionics) 1d20+22 or +27 (“)
Sense motive 1d20+33
Spot 1d20+31
[/sblock]
"Citizen Starzaeon, directness is always appreciated. Water does not flow up hill but instead through the valley."
Tyrroth studies the feed for a moment and upon realizing the gravity of the situation decides to process the data less casually and more methodically.* His years of training and intellectual strength allow him to fully divide his emotions from his capacity for reason. Thus, while his rational side processes the images, reports, and flight logs, his intuition combs the same data along with any recorded engrams for consistency, validity, and truth.
He has lived a long time. One would assume that little could surprise or shock him at this point, but nevertheless the feed from Melanoce affects him deeply. The corpuscular throbbing of the alien ship combined with its non-Euclidean geometry and clear violation the known laws of space-time solidify for him the vast dread mounting from both paths of his mind; his rational side immediately processes IT as a THING THAT COULD NOT BE, while his intuition forces him to retch mentally and deem IT as a THING THAT SHOULD NOT BE.
"Undoubtedly, you contacted me because of my history with hunting down those who would damage souls. Perhaps you know of my background, but if you don't I will save my telling of it for another more convenient time. Thus the threat of the Lords of the Outer Dark colonizing even a molecule of our universe would be expected to pique my interest. In all truth it does, but if I am to risk both myself and the lives of the spirits in my dominion, I would need something in return."
"Normally I would never stretch to be so mercenary, but we have needs on Placidio that must urgently be addressed. You world is vast and well stocked with water, a resource that you have judiciously and wisely conserved as would be expected for a thoughtful ruler. If I am to intercede, I would desire 100 million liters of crude water or sea water and the services of one who can arrange for the transport of such quantities as liquid or ice. I understand that this would be but a pittance to a citizen of your standing."
OOC: Diplomacy 1d20+25
"Assuming that this can be arranged I can be in the vicinity within moments. Forward to me the contact info of your liaison at the site I will make the necessary arrangement for my own arrival."
[sblock=OOC: * Knowledge checks etc, I presume, to assess the capabilities and weaknesses of the ship and its occupants observed through Melanoce's feed... ]
using collector of Stories to improve the most relevant skill (The Planes or Psionics?)
Knowledge (arcana) 1d20+22 or +27 (if using Collector of Stories)
Knowledge (dungeoneering) 1d20+17 or +22 (“)
Knowledge (local) 1d20+17 or +22 (“)
Knowledge (nature) 1d20+17 or +22 (“)
Knowledge (religion) 1d20+22 or +27 (“)
Knowledge (The Planes) 1d20+22 or +27 (“)
Knowledge (Psionics) 1d20+22 or +27 (“)
Sense motive 1d20+33
Spot 1d20+31
[/sblock]
"Friend, your independence and the community you have built while still an Autarch are laudable. Yet, if I may offer advice, I would suggest establishing a closer relationship with our society, perhaps even within the IAO system. I say this because it is not mercenary to request basic necessities. The true glory of the Eschaton is freedom from want. Even if you chose not to imperil yourself with horrors from beyond, you have a right to the water you need. And I will be happy to provide it. But a reward of sorts is appropriate for your service in the current matter. I hope you will not be offended that I took the liberty of looking into your background before contacting you. Some far planar contacts of mine may be able to locate lost shards of your soul. If you will permit a closer psychic contact, I will perform an examination that will help in obtaining the necessary information."
It's difficult to assess the exact capabilities of the ship given the information available. You can tell that it doesn't interact with normal matter in the standard fashion. Its movement paths may be highly unpredictable, and it may (or may not) be resistant to standard weapons. Lastly it seems to be harder to scrye on the ship the farther one is from it.
It's difficult to assess the exact capabilities of the ship given the information available. You can tell that it doesn't interact with normal matter in the standard fashion. Its movement paths may be highly unpredictable, and it may (or may not) be resistant to standard weapons. Lastly it seems to be harder to scrye on the ship the farther one is from it.
Serraphina, Half celestial minotaur werebear, fighter 1, hp 138, AC 50 (touch ac 35) SR25 PR40
Turning her eyes from the party that seems to be coming under control, to the advancing ooze. The gem in her crown lights up for a moment and then a semi-translucent plane stretches across the tunnel, right in front of the ooze.
[sblock=OOC]Cast wall of force from crystal. 1 round duration[/sblock]
Turning her eyes from the party that seems to be coming under control, to the advancing ooze. The gem in her crown lights up for a moment and then a semi-translucent plane stretches across the tunnel, right in front of the ooze.
[sblock=OOC]Cast wall of force from crystal. 1 round duration[/sblock]
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