Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="tmart" data-source="post: 1449113" data-attributes="member: 11198">Seemed Like a Good Idea #3 -OR- On the strengths and weaknesses of the elementsPendric awakes to a large and overfed face looming over him. He glances down to see a holy symbol of Audenius, god of peace. Pendric shakes his head and remembers his death. "Oh, I -- the -- thank you." Pendric's eyes light up. He tears off his gloves. Unfortunately, his hands still bleed.The cleric says, "Yes, those. We tried numerous magicks to remove the blood, but I'm afraid there is no helping it. It is very disturbing... I communed with my deity on the subject, but," he pauses, almost shaking, "I received no answer. Nothing. That has never happened. I would have had you taken out of the temple if you weren't a paladin. It might have been for the best, too -- the temple was attacked during the night."Festrell jumps onto Pendric's chest and exclaims, "The life-debt is paid!" Pendric goes wide-eyed and chin attempts to disappear into his neck.---The silvered scythe gets returned to its owner and the party sets off to Marival in the interest of informing higher church authorities of the significant cosmic goings-on of the past few days.After a few hours of travel, however, they find the path blocked entirely by an enormous congregation of flame. It bellows in an unintelligible language with a voice of crackling sparks and roaring flame, but stays still. Pendric attempts to ride around, but his path is blocked by a flaming limb."Oh! The box of healing has a translator button, remember?" Astor realises. He presses it and asks the elemental to try again."MORTALS." It unintentionally burns down several trees. "YOU WILL WAIT. MICHAEL SENDS A WARNING.""Hold on," Pendric speaks into the box, which femininely speaks his words in Ignan. "You're a servant of his?""I AM NOT HIS SERVANT, MARKED ONE. HE WARNS YOU OF THINGS WHICH HAVE BREACHED THE BARRIERS AND HAVE MOBILISED TO STOP YOU. THE GUILD OF ASSASSINS HAS ALSO MOBILISED TO STOP YOU. HE ASKS YOU TO MEET HIM IN THE BARRENS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. MY DEBT TO HIM IS NOW PAID. BEWARE THOSE OF MY KIND. THEY ALL SERVE THE MASTERS." It vanishes."Well, then," Astor says amusedly. "I suppose this is more important. Barrens ho!"---They continue to be plagued by assorted monsters recently released from storage. After several days of travel on horse and mule, the road is once again blocked, this time by an amorphous vortex of air sixteen feet high. Its voice is a confusion of rapid breaths almost without substance. It is echoed in Common by the box of healing. "ABANDON YOUR QUEST OR DIE.""Hold the heck on," Astor interrupts. "How do we know you won't kill us anyway?""YOU," it says indicating Pendric, "ARE THE MARKED. YOU," indicating Festrell, "ARE CLAIMED BY ALLIES. YOU," indicating Astor, "... ARE GIVEN A GRACE NOTE. TURN BACK. DO NOT PROCEED TO THE BARRENS." It vanishes."Hmm. Sounds like we'd better turn back. That thing was pretty mean-looking.""Yes," Pendric agrees ironically."Obviously."They camp for the night. Festrell and Pendric are again woken by Astor's battle cry. They emerge from their tents to see Astor with bow in hand, playing the circling game around the campfire with a troll."Burn it with the firewood!" Astor yells, familiar with troll weaknesses.All three grabbed burning sticks from the fire and swat the green beast. Each time, a ring on its right hand glows red. Barring minor slivers, it remains unharmed."Sh*t! Anyone have acid?" Astor yells."No!""Yeah, I got some infants wrapped in back bacon too! Got any use for those?" Festrell shouts sardonically, ducking a massive green arm.Pendric withdraws from melee, largely useless, and shouts "Hold it off! I'll see what I can do!" He kneels and prays to his god Lirus for aid.* Ten seconds later, the party's weapons drip with yellow-green fluid.The troll is shortly put to death, and yet another night is spent trying to sleep on leftover adrenaline and enough blood loss to kill lesser beings.---The next day proves promising. Clear skies and a brisk breeze encourage the group on their way north to the Barrens. Out of nowhere, the ground beneath them breaks and rises up. The mounts spook, leaving Astor and Festrell flat on their backs and Pendric on his steed Brahma a hundred feet away from the vaguely humanoid mass of earth and stone which menaces them.Festrell draws her dagger with a flick of the wrist and a diminutive snarl. Instead of attacking, she talks to her dagger in a voice too quiet to overcome the din of the beginning battle."Festrell!" Pendric shouts while charging. "You can indulge your mental instability outside of battle! Now stop talking to your knife and use it!"Festrell snaps back, "You're not one to talk, Mister Bleeding Hands!"Astor shoots. His arrows bounces off the stone form. Pendric crashes his lance into it, dealing a large wound which heals over almost entirely within a second. A pointy appendage smashes into Brahma, almost killing her.Festrell pulls a rope from her pack, catches it on a rocky protrusion, and begins to climb. She heaves hard on the rope. The image is so ridiculous that Astor and Pendric, fearing for their lives, have to make time to laugh. The thirty pound halfling is attempting to draw the eight thousand pound mass of rock and dirt off of its balance to comically useless effect.She shouts, "We have to find out its weaknesses!"Astor squints and shoots another arrow. "It's a giant rock! It doesn't have weaknesses!""You could set it on fire!" Festrell offers."It doesn't burn! IT'S A GIANT ROCK!" Astor laughs.Things look grim for our intrepid heroes until the elemental merges back into the ground inexplicably, leaving the three adventurers confused and panting.---Festrell kicks the ground in boredom, staring at the last embers of the campfire. "Stupid Pendric and his bloody hands. I get no respect at all." Her head cocks to the side with the speed of an owl as she strains to hear the approaching footpad."Do not be alarmed," the grating voice whispers. "I bring an offer, not death." A slight, pallid man in rough black leather skulks into the firelight."Yeah? Get to it, then." Festrell fingers her dagger sheath."Then I'll be brief. I offer you membership in the prestigious and exclusive Assassin's Guild. If you wish to access this ocean of opportunity, you may betray your companions at an opportune moment.""Well," Festrell thinks for a moment, "what if I don't?""If you don't, I'm afraid you'll have to be kept very quiet. Regardless, here are some lovely diamonds for a down payment -- a trifling example of the rewards you may expect later on." He tosses her a pouch. "I don't require an answer presently. Please think on it." He backs out of the light with a flourish.---A tired dawn comes, and they press on northward. All are relived when a stone tower rises over the horizon. They stay overnight and enjoy the hospitality of a group of mages studying the enigmatic Barrens. Despite fervent warnings to turn back immediately, the adventurers load up on food and water, and depart.They ride for six weeks. Then strange weather effects begin to manifest: blood rain, perpetual day, lightning shooting from the ground up to the sky. The quiver Michael lent to Astor begins to heat up slightly. Astor amuses himself by playing a hot/cold game with it for two weeks, determining the path to Michael. They ride on, covering in total a distance of perhaps fifteen hundred miles, until they finally discover an enormous edifice stretching from horizon to horizon. The quiver loses its heat.Astor whistles. "It must be the size of a city." As they approach, the strange single storey architecture of the place becomes more clear. They soon espy a red-cloaked figure waiting on the steps. His details slowly clarify: blood-red clothing, a frame as thin as death, a height half again Pendric's.** His face is obscured by his cloak."Greetings. I welcome you on Michael's behalf." There is something strange about his voice, as if his speech organs were alien.He beckons the group inside. They follow quietly. He leads them through a great door, a smaller door, a smaller door, all at least twice as large as any human architect would design, and entirely plain. The structure seems to obey a very functional design, with no accoutrements whatsoever aside from torch brackets. Some areas are partially ruined.After a long walk, the figure gesture the group into a room. Michael is lying on a stone tablet with partially healed wounds. Pendric ignores Michael's feeble greeting and lays on hands. He struggles greatly to have his power not work.The towering red-cloaked figure speaks. "Your gods have no power here. I am Rakor. You are in the Nameless Temple."Astor asks, "Did you build it?"The head of the cloak turns slowly to regard Astor. "Yes, the whole thing," he says very seriously. "Myself. It took millennia." The party looks impressed, and Michael giggles slightly. "No, of course I didn't! Idiot. It was built to honour my god."Pendric asks, intruiged, "And who, may I ask, might that be?""His name is lost. Stolen. If it were found again, he could overthrow even Michael's deities and rise again." He emits something which might be conjectured to be a sigh. "Twice now my cosmology has been overturned." Pendric gets a peek at the skin under Rakor's hood. It is ash grey. "I would like to know, if you will... why did you come here on the advice of a elemental?" Michael laughs heartily and then stop, wincing and nursing his ribs."Hold on," Astor protests to Michael, "You didn't send for us?" Michael laughs even louder. "Oh.""Go ahead and explore," Rakor suggests. "Find a corridor you like." His voice lowers. "But stay out of the basement if you value your lives." The group gives him a collective quizzical look. Michael laughs even louder, coughs, whimpers, and laughs again. "Just kidding. There is no basement," Rakor says flatly. He leaves.As soon as they are alone, Astor says, "Did you notice that no part of his body can actually be seen? And he never puts weight on his right leg. My theory is that he is, in actual fact, three halflings one on top of the other."* The DM uses a formula based on level, charisma, wisdom, and varying modifiers to determine a percent chance of minor deity intervention.** Pendric is 6'3". For reference, Astor is 5'7". Festrell is around three feet.</blockquote>

Verification