"Out of the Frying Pan"- Book III: Fanning the Embers
weiknarf
Explorer
The trick in which they informed all the players but one what was going on and drop the clueless player into the situation with no clue what's going on and the other players playing along with the DM. *whew*
Just wondering if you were up to something similar or something else entirely.
Just wondering if you were up to something similar or something else entirely.
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Session #62 (part 3 (of 4)
Martin came down off the loft after tucking the book back away to find three more visitors had indeed arrived.
Two elven women just within the door. One wore a blue cape and nearly transparent lavender clothing of gossamer and tall flared boots. She wore a short sword at her side, and had shining blonde hair. It took Martin a moment to place her, and then he realized… It was Tirhas Tesfey. Beside her was Anarie, dressed much as she did when he last clearly remembered seeing her. In clean travel clothing of spun wool, and a green cloak. Her eyes shone in the morning light.
“Anarie! Uh… Tirhas! What a surprise!” Martin said, coming forward to awkwardly shake their hands. Tirhas seemed unused to the gesture.
“It would have been rude to ignore your invitation, though it seems like but a moment since we saw you last,” Anarie replied with a smile. “Tirhas and I, as do our people owe you a great deal, and it is the least we could do to see you off on your journey.”
“Elen sila lumen olmentilmo,”(1) Tirhas said in her melodic voice. “Anarie and I will be returning to Tempestas (2), so plan to accompany you to the coast where rumor has it an elven ship will be arriving soon.”
“Oh, uh…that is lovely,” Martin replied.
“However, if have need of me I still want to fulfill my debt to you, for without you my body would still be the plaything of that ancient witch and my spirit would dwell in a stony prison,” the elf added.
Martin was taken aback and stammered. It was then that he noticed a large figure hovering in the doorway. Dressed in travel stained clothing of brown, dull green and gray was the towering half-orc Ratchis, still seeming uncomfortable within the confines of a house.
Soon the house was alive with chatter as Jeremy returned, and soon after so did Gunthar and Selma. The little house was crowded, and the many voices talking of things that Martin tried to digest dizzied him.
“Hey pig-f*cker! Don’t hoard all the turkey legs,” Gunthar shouted across the table. “Ow!”
Selma had elbowed him had elbowed him hard.
Ratchis sneered, and then challenged the Neergaardian to an arm-wrestling match for the last drumstick. “Uh-uh, I see you got your giant’s strength belt-thing on,” Gunthar protested. “I ain’t stupid.”
“I’ll eat it,” Jeremy said, grabbing it.
There was some kind of commotion outside, and everyone got up to go look, but Martin held Beorth back.
“Beorth, do you think you could do me a favor?” the watch-mage asked.
“Anything, so long as it does not violate the tenets of my faith,” the paladin replied.
“Could you use the sight granted to you by Anubis to check for any evil aura I might have,” Martin asked.
Beorth furrowed his brow. “If you would like me to, but perhaps after dinner?”
“Of course,” Martin said. He followed everyone outside and saw a line of three great lizards, with a crowd of townsfolk following carefully from behind. The brown and green lizards were each being ridden by a pair of dwarves sitting back to back on elaborate saddles.
The dwarf at the head of the first lizard, yanked the reins to stop his creature and hopped off. He was covered in dust, and his red beard looked brown as he combed it out with a gloved hand.
It was Kazrack.
“Hail Martin! Watch-Mage of Summit!” He called happily, walking past all the others to grasp Martin’s wrist in a firm dwarven shake. “It fills my heart with gladness to be able to see you off on your trip, and that I am reunited with all my old companions.”
“Uh, yes… Uh, it has been so long,” Martin stammered.
“Martin? Does something ail you? You seem paler than usual<” the dwarf queried.
“Yes, but still not paler than Beorth,” Jeremy quipped.
“No, I, uh… I’m just overwhelmed is all,” Martin tried to bluff through his confusion.
“Come! Let’s go inside while my crew attends to the mounts and have a glass of wine, or maybe a hearty ale,” Kazrack slapped Martin on the back hard. “It will put color on your cheeks. You haven’t been overusing that ring of yours have you? How many times have I warned you not to trust those foul magics? Nothing can truly replace a good meal and a good sleep.”
Back inside the companions continued to eat and talk of their journeys and plans. Martin barely spoke, trying to figure out what to do next. He scanned memory and his satchel and was amazed at the spells he currently prepared. Spells of fifth and sixth house, that he would never have been able to prepare, let alone cast, before.
“Martin, you seem distracted,” Kazrack raised an eyebrow suspiciously. ”You aren’t… You know, you aren’t thinking this is all some kind of dream again are you?”
The dwarf smiled and then laughed, pointing at Martin. “You are being foolish.”
“I have said this all felt like a dream before?” Martin asked.
“Sure, every now and again,” Kazrack said.
“Yes,” Beorth confirmed. “You… you were under a lot of mental strain in the Maze, and I think your memory was affected.”
“Yeah, but don’t get too soft in head on us now, we still need you,” Jeremy winked.
“Yes, speaking of needing you, Beorth and I wanted to ask your aid in an endeavor we will be beginning to undertake,” Kazrack said. “The clearing of the undead land of Dralmohir.”
Beorth nodded. “It will take many years, as we will be seeking to map it and raise money and permission to build monasteries of Anubis upon its border in the Principality of Rhondria, and handle this as one would any war.”
“We are hoping that you will return from Thricia in a few years when we are more ready and use your powers and that of your book to aid us,” Kazrack said.
“Marty! You aren’t going to run around risking your life even more are you!” Marion squealed.
“Yeah, shouldn’t you be starting a family soon?” Jeremy winked.
“I can’t deal with this anymore!” Martin stood violently.
“Martin! Whatever is the matter?” Marion stood, to put an arm around her husband, but he shirked away.
“Why won’t you detect evil on me?” Martin asked, turning to Beorth.
“It is okay, Martin. If you want me to do it, I will do it now. There is no need to get upset.”
“Calm down Martin,” Ratchis said.
“Anubis, grant me sight beyond sight so that I might see any aura of malefaction upon any in the room,” Beorth stood and covered his eyes, reaching out with the other hand. “Nothing.”
“There is something not right here!” Martin insisted.
“Do you feel disoriented? Do you need to lay down?” Beorth asked with concern in his voice.
“A glass of wine?” suggested Anarie.
“Has someone been here to speak with you? Could you be under a spell?” Ratchis offered.
“He’s thinking this is all not real again,” Kazrack said. “This is real, Martin.”
“Oh man, another friggin’ meal disrupted by orc-rubbin’ by portents and prophecies,” Gunthar rolled his eyes.
“Shut up, Gunthar!” Jeremy punched his brother in the arm.
“You little sh*t!” Gunthar began to smack at each other, until a dirty look from Ratchis stopped them both.
“Come on! You can’t take us both!” Gunthar taunted. “Not without your precious belt that is!”
“I insist that you tell me everything that happened in Hurgun’s Maze,’ Martin asked.
“Come on Selma, let’s go spare some more. This is gonna take longer that a horse’s funeral in Wallbrook,” Gunthar took his wife outside.
“A lot happened in the Maze, Martin,” Jeremy said, trying to sound soothing. “One of the kind’s bards wrote a song about it based on your re-telling. It was a horrible song.”
“It had a certain dirge-like quality I liked about it,” Beorth commented.
“Have you lost your memory Martin?” Ratchis asked.
Marion looked aghast, and took him by the shoulders and sat the watch-mage down again, putting a flap of his thinning hair to one side with a kiss.
“It seems that since I woke up this morning I can remember nothing of the things you speak of,” Martin confessed.
“You didn’t kill a pixie did you?” Kazrack asked.
Martin again stood up in frustration.
“I need to check my books and journals and figure this out,” Martin said. “The Book of Black Circles must be the key to this whole thing. I must look through it and find the spell to destroy it.”
“Yes, destroy it if you must,” Kazrack said, winking and elbowing Ratchis. The half-orc scowled.
“Is that so wise?” Ratchis asked. “At the time you said you were able to control the book and thus keep death from falling upon you even at Osiris’ will.”
“And since then you have done such good with it, like close Hurgun’s Maze, brought Jeremy back from limbo touched with planar goodness,” Beorth added.
“Not to mention bargaining with dragon to have her leave this area alone,” Jeremy said. Martin noticed a subtle shine that seemed to emanate from the Neergaardian’s eyes and hair.
“Enough! I cannot concentrate on what I need to do with all of you talking to me at once!” Martin ran for the bed loft.
“Martin! Don’t be rash!” Beorth cried as he and the others stood.
“Let me check for a dweomer of charming on you,” Ratchis called, leaping over the table to catch the watch-mage. “You are not yourself.”
“Or he is too much himself,” Kazrack swore.
Instinctively, Martin willed the Book of Black Circles to his arms. He spun around at the base of the loft in time to see Ratchis charging at him.
“You are making a mistake!” the half-orc said, but it was too late Martin invoked one of the spells he had been surprised to determine he had prepared, and he disappeared.
----------------------
Martin reappeared in an instant at a place he had remembered camping at the foot of the ridge the town of Summit was built upon. (3)
Afraid he might still be spotted, he pulled a miniature portal carved of ivory from his satchel, along with a silver spoon and a round piece of marble. In a moment, there was shimmering portal before him eight feet high and four feet wide before him and stepped through it into an opulent mansion.
A translucent figure in green livery, took led him to a chamber with a great desk and a table covered in food.
“Leave me!” he said, throwing himself into a padded chair, and slammed the Book of Black Circles on the desk before him.
“Give me the spell I need,” Martin growled, uncharacteristically.
The book’s cover flew open and the pages began to rifle by of their own accord. When they stopped Martin just sat dumb-founded for a long moment, covering his open mouth, and afraid to look at on what it might have stopped.
Martin the Green took a deep breath and looked at the open page, and then gasped again.
On the page in runes and letters in several different hands was a spell of the Ninth House. (4) It was a spell that could bend the fabric reality itself, but for a price. However, as he continued to read, he saw in black script directions would allow the caster to substitute other things for that price; souls.
“No!” Martin said in frustration. He tried to imagine a spell in the book that might would physically destroy the book. The pages began to flip again, and when they stopped Martin began to read a list of ingredients and the beginning of the detailing of complicated procedure by which a powerful priest or wizard could give himself near-immortality. The price was even more costly.
Martin closed the book and sat for a while trying to think of various ways he might dispose of this thing permanently. The book opened and flipped back and forth with his thoughts, but he did not pay it any mind, assuming that each choice it gave him would endanger his soul.
Finally, he thought of a spell he had heard of before that would allow the caster to shift himself into another plane of reality.
The pages of the Book of Black Circles flipped like mad and then stopped. Martin looked and there was the spell.
He evoked the runes of the spell concentrating on the Positive Material Plane (5), clutching the book to his chest.
All went white.
-------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) "Elen Sila Lumenn Olmentilmo" trainslates as 'A star shines brightly on the hour of our meeting'.
(2) Tempestas is the island homeland of the elves, a place of deep ancient forests surrounded by stormy seas.
(3) Several different times, the Fearless Manticore Killers camped on the outer edge of Greenreed Valley, at the foot of the trails that led down from Summit, including right before traveling to the Necropolis of Doom.
(4) The Book of Black Circles was actually the product of the work of seven powerful necromancers, each taking it from the last and adding to its lore and power. The last was the infamous Marchosias the Corruptor.
(5) This is the plane of pure good from which the power of the gods of good derives.
Martin came down off the loft after tucking the book back away to find three more visitors had indeed arrived.
Two elven women just within the door. One wore a blue cape and nearly transparent lavender clothing of gossamer and tall flared boots. She wore a short sword at her side, and had shining blonde hair. It took Martin a moment to place her, and then he realized… It was Tirhas Tesfey. Beside her was Anarie, dressed much as she did when he last clearly remembered seeing her. In clean travel clothing of spun wool, and a green cloak. Her eyes shone in the morning light.
“Anarie! Uh… Tirhas! What a surprise!” Martin said, coming forward to awkwardly shake their hands. Tirhas seemed unused to the gesture.
“It would have been rude to ignore your invitation, though it seems like but a moment since we saw you last,” Anarie replied with a smile. “Tirhas and I, as do our people owe you a great deal, and it is the least we could do to see you off on your journey.”
“Elen sila lumen olmentilmo,”(1) Tirhas said in her melodic voice. “Anarie and I will be returning to Tempestas (2), so plan to accompany you to the coast where rumor has it an elven ship will be arriving soon.”
“Oh, uh…that is lovely,” Martin replied.
“However, if have need of me I still want to fulfill my debt to you, for without you my body would still be the plaything of that ancient witch and my spirit would dwell in a stony prison,” the elf added.
Martin was taken aback and stammered. It was then that he noticed a large figure hovering in the doorway. Dressed in travel stained clothing of brown, dull green and gray was the towering half-orc Ratchis, still seeming uncomfortable within the confines of a house.
Soon the house was alive with chatter as Jeremy returned, and soon after so did Gunthar and Selma. The little house was crowded, and the many voices talking of things that Martin tried to digest dizzied him.
“Hey pig-f*cker! Don’t hoard all the turkey legs,” Gunthar shouted across the table. “Ow!”
Selma had elbowed him had elbowed him hard.
Ratchis sneered, and then challenged the Neergaardian to an arm-wrestling match for the last drumstick. “Uh-uh, I see you got your giant’s strength belt-thing on,” Gunthar protested. “I ain’t stupid.”
“I’ll eat it,” Jeremy said, grabbing it.
There was some kind of commotion outside, and everyone got up to go look, but Martin held Beorth back.
“Beorth, do you think you could do me a favor?” the watch-mage asked.
“Anything, so long as it does not violate the tenets of my faith,” the paladin replied.
“Could you use the sight granted to you by Anubis to check for any evil aura I might have,” Martin asked.
Beorth furrowed his brow. “If you would like me to, but perhaps after dinner?”
“Of course,” Martin said. He followed everyone outside and saw a line of three great lizards, with a crowd of townsfolk following carefully from behind. The brown and green lizards were each being ridden by a pair of dwarves sitting back to back on elaborate saddles.
The dwarf at the head of the first lizard, yanked the reins to stop his creature and hopped off. He was covered in dust, and his red beard looked brown as he combed it out with a gloved hand.
It was Kazrack.
“Hail Martin! Watch-Mage of Summit!” He called happily, walking past all the others to grasp Martin’s wrist in a firm dwarven shake. “It fills my heart with gladness to be able to see you off on your trip, and that I am reunited with all my old companions.”
“Uh, yes… Uh, it has been so long,” Martin stammered.
“Martin? Does something ail you? You seem paler than usual<” the dwarf queried.
“Yes, but still not paler than Beorth,” Jeremy quipped.
“No, I, uh… I’m just overwhelmed is all,” Martin tried to bluff through his confusion.
“Come! Let’s go inside while my crew attends to the mounts and have a glass of wine, or maybe a hearty ale,” Kazrack slapped Martin on the back hard. “It will put color on your cheeks. You haven’t been overusing that ring of yours have you? How many times have I warned you not to trust those foul magics? Nothing can truly replace a good meal and a good sleep.”
Back inside the companions continued to eat and talk of their journeys and plans. Martin barely spoke, trying to figure out what to do next. He scanned memory and his satchel and was amazed at the spells he currently prepared. Spells of fifth and sixth house, that he would never have been able to prepare, let alone cast, before.
“Martin, you seem distracted,” Kazrack raised an eyebrow suspiciously. ”You aren’t… You know, you aren’t thinking this is all some kind of dream again are you?”
The dwarf smiled and then laughed, pointing at Martin. “You are being foolish.”
“I have said this all felt like a dream before?” Martin asked.
“Sure, every now and again,” Kazrack said.
“Yes,” Beorth confirmed. “You… you were under a lot of mental strain in the Maze, and I think your memory was affected.”
“Yeah, but don’t get too soft in head on us now, we still need you,” Jeremy winked.
“Yes, speaking of needing you, Beorth and I wanted to ask your aid in an endeavor we will be beginning to undertake,” Kazrack said. “The clearing of the undead land of Dralmohir.”
Beorth nodded. “It will take many years, as we will be seeking to map it and raise money and permission to build monasteries of Anubis upon its border in the Principality of Rhondria, and handle this as one would any war.”
“We are hoping that you will return from Thricia in a few years when we are more ready and use your powers and that of your book to aid us,” Kazrack said.
“Marty! You aren’t going to run around risking your life even more are you!” Marion squealed.
“Yeah, shouldn’t you be starting a family soon?” Jeremy winked.
“I can’t deal with this anymore!” Martin stood violently.
“Martin! Whatever is the matter?” Marion stood, to put an arm around her husband, but he shirked away.
“Why won’t you detect evil on me?” Martin asked, turning to Beorth.
“It is okay, Martin. If you want me to do it, I will do it now. There is no need to get upset.”
“Calm down Martin,” Ratchis said.
“Anubis, grant me sight beyond sight so that I might see any aura of malefaction upon any in the room,” Beorth stood and covered his eyes, reaching out with the other hand. “Nothing.”
“There is something not right here!” Martin insisted.
“Do you feel disoriented? Do you need to lay down?” Beorth asked with concern in his voice.
“A glass of wine?” suggested Anarie.
“Has someone been here to speak with you? Could you be under a spell?” Ratchis offered.
“He’s thinking this is all not real again,” Kazrack said. “This is real, Martin.”
“Oh man, another friggin’ meal disrupted by orc-rubbin’ by portents and prophecies,” Gunthar rolled his eyes.
“Shut up, Gunthar!” Jeremy punched his brother in the arm.
“You little sh*t!” Gunthar began to smack at each other, until a dirty look from Ratchis stopped them both.
“Come on! You can’t take us both!” Gunthar taunted. “Not without your precious belt that is!”
“I insist that you tell me everything that happened in Hurgun’s Maze,’ Martin asked.
“Come on Selma, let’s go spare some more. This is gonna take longer that a horse’s funeral in Wallbrook,” Gunthar took his wife outside.
“A lot happened in the Maze, Martin,” Jeremy said, trying to sound soothing. “One of the kind’s bards wrote a song about it based on your re-telling. It was a horrible song.”
“It had a certain dirge-like quality I liked about it,” Beorth commented.
“Have you lost your memory Martin?” Ratchis asked.
Marion looked aghast, and took him by the shoulders and sat the watch-mage down again, putting a flap of his thinning hair to one side with a kiss.
“It seems that since I woke up this morning I can remember nothing of the things you speak of,” Martin confessed.
“You didn’t kill a pixie did you?” Kazrack asked.
Martin again stood up in frustration.
“I need to check my books and journals and figure this out,” Martin said. “The Book of Black Circles must be the key to this whole thing. I must look through it and find the spell to destroy it.”
“Yes, destroy it if you must,” Kazrack said, winking and elbowing Ratchis. The half-orc scowled.
“Is that so wise?” Ratchis asked. “At the time you said you were able to control the book and thus keep death from falling upon you even at Osiris’ will.”
“And since then you have done such good with it, like close Hurgun’s Maze, brought Jeremy back from limbo touched with planar goodness,” Beorth added.
“Not to mention bargaining with dragon to have her leave this area alone,” Jeremy said. Martin noticed a subtle shine that seemed to emanate from the Neergaardian’s eyes and hair.
“Enough! I cannot concentrate on what I need to do with all of you talking to me at once!” Martin ran for the bed loft.
“Martin! Don’t be rash!” Beorth cried as he and the others stood.
“Let me check for a dweomer of charming on you,” Ratchis called, leaping over the table to catch the watch-mage. “You are not yourself.”
“Or he is too much himself,” Kazrack swore.
Instinctively, Martin willed the Book of Black Circles to his arms. He spun around at the base of the loft in time to see Ratchis charging at him.
“You are making a mistake!” the half-orc said, but it was too late Martin invoked one of the spells he had been surprised to determine he had prepared, and he disappeared.
----------------------
Martin reappeared in an instant at a place he had remembered camping at the foot of the ridge the town of Summit was built upon. (3)
Afraid he might still be spotted, he pulled a miniature portal carved of ivory from his satchel, along with a silver spoon and a round piece of marble. In a moment, there was shimmering portal before him eight feet high and four feet wide before him and stepped through it into an opulent mansion.
A translucent figure in green livery, took led him to a chamber with a great desk and a table covered in food.
“Leave me!” he said, throwing himself into a padded chair, and slammed the Book of Black Circles on the desk before him.
“Give me the spell I need,” Martin growled, uncharacteristically.
The book’s cover flew open and the pages began to rifle by of their own accord. When they stopped Martin just sat dumb-founded for a long moment, covering his open mouth, and afraid to look at on what it might have stopped.
Martin the Green took a deep breath and looked at the open page, and then gasped again.
On the page in runes and letters in several different hands was a spell of the Ninth House. (4) It was a spell that could bend the fabric reality itself, but for a price. However, as he continued to read, he saw in black script directions would allow the caster to substitute other things for that price; souls.
“No!” Martin said in frustration. He tried to imagine a spell in the book that might would physically destroy the book. The pages began to flip again, and when they stopped Martin began to read a list of ingredients and the beginning of the detailing of complicated procedure by which a powerful priest or wizard could give himself near-immortality. The price was even more costly.
Martin closed the book and sat for a while trying to think of various ways he might dispose of this thing permanently. The book opened and flipped back and forth with his thoughts, but he did not pay it any mind, assuming that each choice it gave him would endanger his soul.
Finally, he thought of a spell he had heard of before that would allow the caster to shift himself into another plane of reality.
The pages of the Book of Black Circles flipped like mad and then stopped. Martin looked and there was the spell.
He evoked the runes of the spell concentrating on the Positive Material Plane (5), clutching the book to his chest.
All went white.
-------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) "Elen Sila Lumenn Olmentilmo" trainslates as 'A star shines brightly on the hour of our meeting'.
(2) Tempestas is the island homeland of the elves, a place of deep ancient forests surrounded by stormy seas.
(3) Several different times, the Fearless Manticore Killers camped on the outer edge of Greenreed Valley, at the foot of the trails that led down from Summit, including right before traveling to the Necropolis of Doom.
(4) The Book of Black Circles was actually the product of the work of seven powerful necromancers, each taking it from the last and adding to its lore and power. The last was the infamous Marchosias the Corruptor.
(5) This is the plane of pure good from which the power of the gods of good derives.
Last edited:
Jon Potter
First Post
nemmerle said:
Great update, as usual! What a strange situation to put Martin the Green in. Truly inspired.
But I think you missed a couple of footnotes.
Last edited:
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