"Out of the Frying Pan"- Book IV - Into the Fire [STORY HOUR COMPLETED - 12/25/06]
- Thread starter el-remmen
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el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Session #96 (complete)
“Change out some spells and prepare more of analyze portal,” Ratchis said to Martin the Green.
“It will take most of an hour,” Martin replied.
“I don’t think we can leave until we know where we are going,” Ratchis said. “We have waited here a long time, I am sure the portal has changed since we have been in here; especially if you consider the time we spent in the Air Room.”
Kazrack nodded his agreement, staring down at the mists below them. The mists below the grated platform they stood on swirled in tight circles that waved up and down vertiginously.
”Are we going to just stand around here all day?” Gunthar complained, as Martin sat on the cold grate to begin changing his spells.
“Martin, do you know which spell you have to cast in the Modron Station?” Ratchis asked.
“No… Not yet,” Martin replied, annoyed. He waved the half-orc off, and buried his nose in his spell book.
Some time later, the watch-mage cast his spell and announced that the portal they had come through now led to the Light Room, where the gates to the Beastlands, the Heavens and Anubis’ Realm were.
“You know we had to go this way no matter what,” Martin complained. “I doubt we could have made it across to the other portals leading out of here without risking disturbing the time elemental, and I don’t want to know what’d happen if someone fell down into those mists.”
“At least now we know where we are going,” Ratchis replied, and he led the way into the Light Room. The others followed. Martin the Green immediately hurried to the center of the room, was able to use the last moments of the Analyze Portal spell to look at the other portals.
“Entrance. Dining Room. Earth Room. Modron Station!” the watch-mage pointed to the way behind one of the screens where a painting hung. He concentrated his vision to look through the portal, but found his view was blocked by a thick red velvet curtain that blocked off a small ten foot by ten foot area just beyond the portal. The curtain seemed to hang on some kind of metal rod.
The Keepers of Gate took some time to cast many defensive spells on each other, and Ratchis, Kazrack and Martin spread out some Bull’s Strength and Bear’s Endurance. They then passed through the gate, Roland leading the way in panther-form, cramming into the tiny curtained off section beyond.
There was a cacophony of mechanical sounds coming from beyond the curtain. The was hissing and clanking and loud explosive sounds like farts followed by arrhythmic clicking. There was a smell on the air like a mix of methane and grease, and the ceiling visible above the curtained area was made of shiny ceramic tiles.
“It sounds like there are a great number of modrons out there,” Martin whispered to the others.
“Perhaps you can use your spell of invisibility on someone to go have a look,” Kazrack suggested. “I am not sure what the best course of action is if we run into more hostile modrons.”
“It will only last one minute. I’d rather save it.” Martin replied, and then he turned to Roland. “How about you use your house cat form to slip under the curtain and have a quick look around?”
The Bastite did just that, his long and lithe blue-black panther-form melting down into a tiny black cat that batted at the curtain with a paw and then made his way through. He had only been gone a few moments when he came hurrying back.
“I saw no modrons,” Roland voice issued from the tiny feline. “There is some kind of wall of flesh. It is hard to explain. It is like a great box with many different moving pieces, some of which are on bony legs. It is that thing that is making the sounds and smells. It is…uh, disgusting and disturbing…”
“Well, disgusting and disturbing doesn’t bother me,” Martin the Green replied, pulling the curtain aside to see for himself. “It is the fighting and the killing I don’t like.”
Behind the curtain the chamber was filled with a great machine that was difficult to comprehend. It seemed to be made of flesh of all colors and of a consistency similar to that of modrons, but it was a collection of tubes and sinews and pumping muscles and fissures that dilated when gas was forcibly expelled through them. There were bellows-like flaps of orange skin that rose and fell atop the thing, and in places it was propped up upon black bone-like legs that allowed for a crawl space beneath it. The whole machine wound about the room making it into a sort of maze with narrow walkways between it and the outer wall, and in some places with other sections of the machine.
“I… I… uh… I don’t understand this thing,” Ratchis said stepping out into the chamber, looking around in awe. “It seems like some kind living machine, right?”
“Yes,” Martin replied. “It must be used to make or repair the modrons, but it is injured or is malfunctioning… Look!” The watch-mage pointed to a great gash in the side of the thing’s fleshy side that bubbled with viscous oil-like red liquid, like greasy blood.
“What spell will you use to repair it?” Kazrack asked.
“I believe it is called ‘Sculpt Flesh’”(1) Martin said. “It is what we call a gray necromantic (2) spell. It is only potentially corrupting depending on how it is used.”
“So using it in this way will not be a corruptive influence?” Kazrack asked.
“Normally, I think not, but since I must use the Book of Black Circles to cast the spell, and the book has its own influence, as we have all seen before.”
There was a sudden sound from the other side of the machine like something or someone painfully retching.
“Is this foul machine making that sound?” Sergio asked, covering his mouth with a kerchief. “I told you Hurgun was not to be trusted. I mean, look at this thing! Have you ever seen anything so foul?”
It was decided that Martin the Green, Roland (who was back in panther-form) and Ratchis would go access the damage to the machine while the others waited near the portal they had come through. The three of them walked around the machine to the right seeing a portion of it that appeared like stretchable skin covered in fine peach fuzz covering narrow ribs that breathed in and out. They noticed one or two small tears in the skin there that Martin noted for when he would cast the spell. (3)
As they came around another set of curtains that certainly covered another portal out of the chamber, they saw a conical portion of the machine like a shiny snail shell. There was another retching sound from behind them to left and a figure came crawling out from under that area of the machine. It looked like a man, but its skin was a blubbery gray and black, with drooping melted features, and though it was naked it had no genetalia. Its stubby fingers ended in black claws, and black bile dribbled over its triple chins. They looked like the dead things they had seen when first passing through the dining room. Gilbart had called them ‘dretches’. (4)
“Demon!” Ratchis warned, spinning around and raising his sword.
“Demons!” Martin corrected, seeing another of the things come out from around the conical end of the machine and another climbing around atop the skin covered ribs.
“Demons?” Where?!” Gunthar called out, tearing the curtain aside and stepping into the chamber with his swords drawn, looking around.
Kazrack hurried out past the Neergaardian and dove under a portion of the machine, crawling out to the other side to reach his companions. He stood just in time to see a fourth dretch leap from the shadows of the machine, as Ratchis tore one in half with one might blow of his great sword. It made a sound like an echoing belch and fell over to ooze black grease as its rubbery skin began to quickly dissolve.
One of the blubbery demons came around to get at Martin and Roland from the other side, so the watch-mage cast his greater invisibility on the Bastite. The demon responded by belching out a green noxious cloud at the two of them. However, both Martin and Roland were able to avoid the worse of it. Gunthar pulled himself up on to the machine to face the one up there, while another came out from under the machine to claw at Kazrack.
Roland, still invisible, leapt at the dretch near him and Martin, as the watch-mage took up a defensive posture as best he could. The demon was forced back to avoid being grappled, but suffered deep and long scratches of the folds of its naked body.
Ratchis cut another down, but was surprised as another appeared above him atop the machine to belch down another stinking cloud. The half-orc’s might lungs allowed him to resist the noxious vapors and hold his breath for a time.
Gunthar cut one down easily and then leapt atop the breathing ribbed area of the machine, stabbing the one that appeared above Ratchis. However, one of the thin ribs cracked beneath his boot.
Bastian had moved to join the fray, but the narrow ways around the machine thwarted him, while Sergio remained by the curtain singing an encouraging song, but refraining from getting any closer to the fiends.
There was an ear-piercing screech as Kazrack drove his fiendbane halberd into one of the dretchs and it fell to not rise again, quickly beginning to dissolve as the others had. Gunthar pushed the demon above down between Roland and Ratchis and they quickly finished it between the two of them.
The fight was over, and they all took a moment to catch their breaths as the strange machine continued to sputter and fart and cough and clatter.
The Keepers of the Gate walked the rest of the way around the machine, and Sergio hurried to join them, going on about how the dretchs proved that Hurgun was up to no good and should not be trusted.
Around the conical shell-like corner of the machine they saw a red end of flesh striated with black that twisted into a huge puckered sphincter that that hung over a space in the floor on the left. It was dripping yellow viscous fluid from a tear near the hole. Just beyond it was metal platform attached to the machine that was about six feet high. Steps curved up to it, and some kind of metal chute grafted onto the top of the machine was reached from up there.
“I think this is the beginning…” Martin pointed to the chute, and then to the sphincter. “And the end of the machine.”
There was a tridrone motionless and flat on its triangular bottom atop the platform. Another modron, this one a spherical monodrone, walked back and forth at the base of the stairs, clicking randomly.
The Keepers of the Gate spread out a bit to keep watch while Martin made a mental tally of the places that machine was broken and cut.
“Wish me luck,” the watch-mage said, as he walked up onto the platform and sat with his legs folded before him. He drew the great book from his pack, running his hand over the black oil skin bag. He took a deep breath and whispered a prayer. “Isis, guard my soul against the power I must now wield…”
Ratchis moved to the bottom of the steps and the monodrone clicked confusedly and took up its pacing nearby.
Hoping Kazrack’s protection from evil might help lend him some aid as well, Martin drew out the black book from its slick second skin, feeling the deep grooves of the blackened skin that served as its cover. He cast the oilskin bag aside and lay the book on his lap, tracing the raised black concentric metal circles pressed into it.
“Show me the spell that will fix this modron machine,” Martin the Green said aloud, taking his hand off the book. The cover opened of its own accord and the thick yellowed pages began to flip rapidly, stopping at a pair of pages filled with arcane sigils and formulas like none the watch-mage had ever seen. He looked it over for a moment, tracing with the tip of his finger without touching the actual page. The runes were traced in blood, and though it seemed long dried in most places, in some places the blood seemed to ooze fresh.
“Alter Reality…” Martin whispered, his lower lip shivering. For a moment he thought about how much more than this machine might be fixed, but he closed his eyes and spoke aloud again. “No. Show me the spell of sculpting flesh…”
The pages began to flip forward again, and then flipped back to a page with several detailed diagrams of rearranging facial features and closing wounds. It was the right spell, and Martin instinctively knew that these spells were permanent scrolls. He would be able to cast many times himself without their ever disappearing from the pages as long as he paid the price of the tome.
“Mutatio Liquefactam Carnifactus!” Martin chanted and stood, letting the book drop to the platform. He clutched his chest for a moment as there was the crackle of dark energies about him, and he felt his constitution weaken. (5)
“Martin! Are you alright?” Ratchis put his foot upon the steps to start to climb, but the watch-mage stood straight up and held out his hand. Martin walked down the steps and Ratchis stepped out of his way. He reached out with hands and the flesh of the machine became like clay to his touch. He smoothed over a great gash in one spot and then walked over to do a smaller one where a tube-like connection of bony material wove in and out of the sides and top of it.
There were four places where he affected repairs. As he worked the flesh to carefully close the rents in the machine, he considered whether he’d have enough time to use the spell to fix his face. There was an insistent feeling that there was plenty of time, almost like a second voice in his head trying to reassure him. Suspicious, Martin finished the repairs anyway, and finally he turned to the others with his hand hanging over his own face.
“I think I may have time to…” He brought his finger closer to his face and then stopped. Less than a moment later, the spell’s energy was gone.
“I was going to use the remaining power to fix my face,” Martin said to the other sadly. The great festering crease ran from beneath his left eye, down past his mouth. He could feel bits of it liquefying and dripping as he talked. The side of his nose felt dry and cracked to the touch, like it might flake off in one great piece. “But then it seemed too easy… I mean, I shouldn’t use the book’s power for my own benefit, however small… It could… It could lead to a bad path. I didn’t like that the Book was encouraging me to do it.”
Kazrack walked over and reaching up patted his companion on the shoulder nodding wordlessly.
The great living machine shuddered for a moment and then all the strange sounds died down to be replaced by a hum that ran from one end of the machine to the other. Finally, it was quiet.
“Well, I think that should do it,” Martin said, his shoulders sagging.
“Do what?” Kazrack asked. “I still am not sure what you accomplished.”
The watch-mage pointed to the monodrone that was walking back and forth aimlessly, and then to the tridrone atop the platform. “We need to put those in the machine.” He then pointed to the chute by the platform. “And hope for the best.”
While Martin put the book away again, Ratchis hefted the tridrone over his head and dropped it into the chute. He noted it was missing one of its legs and two of its arms. There was a sound like a clunking shuffle. He then herded the spherical monodrone into the chute as well.
The machine began to hum and then there was a rhythmic churning that reverberated back and forth in the front part of it.
“And now we can move on and destroy the Book,” Martin said, turning to the others.
“Perhaps we should return to the Control Room,” Kazrack suggested.
“The Earth Room,” Ratchis disagreed. “The Audience Chamber. We need to gather the broken modrons and feed them to this thing.”
Bastian nodded.
End of Session #96
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) You can read about the Sculpt Flesh spell by clicking here.
(2) In Aquerra necromantic magic is categorized as either ‘white’, ‘gray’ or ‘black’. You can read more about it here.
(3) You can see the layout of the Modron Station behind the sblock” [sblock]
[/sblock]
(4) See Session #93
(5) DM’s Note: Martin suffered a permanent point of Constitution drain. However, he also realized in that moment that he need only pay that price once, later he might cast spells with greater costs paid by others, whether either by coercion, trickery or threat.
“Change out some spells and prepare more of analyze portal,” Ratchis said to Martin the Green.
“It will take most of an hour,” Martin replied.
“I don’t think we can leave until we know where we are going,” Ratchis said. “We have waited here a long time, I am sure the portal has changed since we have been in here; especially if you consider the time we spent in the Air Room.”
Kazrack nodded his agreement, staring down at the mists below them. The mists below the grated platform they stood on swirled in tight circles that waved up and down vertiginously.
”Are we going to just stand around here all day?” Gunthar complained, as Martin sat on the cold grate to begin changing his spells.
“Martin, do you know which spell you have to cast in the Modron Station?” Ratchis asked.
“No… Not yet,” Martin replied, annoyed. He waved the half-orc off, and buried his nose in his spell book.
Some time later, the watch-mage cast his spell and announced that the portal they had come through now led to the Light Room, where the gates to the Beastlands, the Heavens and Anubis’ Realm were.
“You know we had to go this way no matter what,” Martin complained. “I doubt we could have made it across to the other portals leading out of here without risking disturbing the time elemental, and I don’t want to know what’d happen if someone fell down into those mists.”
“At least now we know where we are going,” Ratchis replied, and he led the way into the Light Room. The others followed. Martin the Green immediately hurried to the center of the room, was able to use the last moments of the Analyze Portal spell to look at the other portals.
“Entrance. Dining Room. Earth Room. Modron Station!” the watch-mage pointed to the way behind one of the screens where a painting hung. He concentrated his vision to look through the portal, but found his view was blocked by a thick red velvet curtain that blocked off a small ten foot by ten foot area just beyond the portal. The curtain seemed to hang on some kind of metal rod.
The Keepers of Gate took some time to cast many defensive spells on each other, and Ratchis, Kazrack and Martin spread out some Bull’s Strength and Bear’s Endurance. They then passed through the gate, Roland leading the way in panther-form, cramming into the tiny curtained off section beyond.
There was a cacophony of mechanical sounds coming from beyond the curtain. The was hissing and clanking and loud explosive sounds like farts followed by arrhythmic clicking. There was a smell on the air like a mix of methane and grease, and the ceiling visible above the curtained area was made of shiny ceramic tiles.
“It sounds like there are a great number of modrons out there,” Martin whispered to the others.
“Perhaps you can use your spell of invisibility on someone to go have a look,” Kazrack suggested. “I am not sure what the best course of action is if we run into more hostile modrons.”
“It will only last one minute. I’d rather save it.” Martin replied, and then he turned to Roland. “How about you use your house cat form to slip under the curtain and have a quick look around?”
The Bastite did just that, his long and lithe blue-black panther-form melting down into a tiny black cat that batted at the curtain with a paw and then made his way through. He had only been gone a few moments when he came hurrying back.
“I saw no modrons,” Roland voice issued from the tiny feline. “There is some kind of wall of flesh. It is hard to explain. It is like a great box with many different moving pieces, some of which are on bony legs. It is that thing that is making the sounds and smells. It is…uh, disgusting and disturbing…”
“Well, disgusting and disturbing doesn’t bother me,” Martin the Green replied, pulling the curtain aside to see for himself. “It is the fighting and the killing I don’t like.”
Behind the curtain the chamber was filled with a great machine that was difficult to comprehend. It seemed to be made of flesh of all colors and of a consistency similar to that of modrons, but it was a collection of tubes and sinews and pumping muscles and fissures that dilated when gas was forcibly expelled through them. There were bellows-like flaps of orange skin that rose and fell atop the thing, and in places it was propped up upon black bone-like legs that allowed for a crawl space beneath it. The whole machine wound about the room making it into a sort of maze with narrow walkways between it and the outer wall, and in some places with other sections of the machine.
“I… I… uh… I don’t understand this thing,” Ratchis said stepping out into the chamber, looking around in awe. “It seems like some kind living machine, right?”
“Yes,” Martin replied. “It must be used to make or repair the modrons, but it is injured or is malfunctioning… Look!” The watch-mage pointed to a great gash in the side of the thing’s fleshy side that bubbled with viscous oil-like red liquid, like greasy blood.
“What spell will you use to repair it?” Kazrack asked.
“I believe it is called ‘Sculpt Flesh’”(1) Martin said. “It is what we call a gray necromantic (2) spell. It is only potentially corrupting depending on how it is used.”
“So using it in this way will not be a corruptive influence?” Kazrack asked.
“Normally, I think not, but since I must use the Book of Black Circles to cast the spell, and the book has its own influence, as we have all seen before.”
There was a sudden sound from the other side of the machine like something or someone painfully retching.
“Is this foul machine making that sound?” Sergio asked, covering his mouth with a kerchief. “I told you Hurgun was not to be trusted. I mean, look at this thing! Have you ever seen anything so foul?”
It was decided that Martin the Green, Roland (who was back in panther-form) and Ratchis would go access the damage to the machine while the others waited near the portal they had come through. The three of them walked around the machine to the right seeing a portion of it that appeared like stretchable skin covered in fine peach fuzz covering narrow ribs that breathed in and out. They noticed one or two small tears in the skin there that Martin noted for when he would cast the spell. (3)
As they came around another set of curtains that certainly covered another portal out of the chamber, they saw a conical portion of the machine like a shiny snail shell. There was another retching sound from behind them to left and a figure came crawling out from under that area of the machine. It looked like a man, but its skin was a blubbery gray and black, with drooping melted features, and though it was naked it had no genetalia. Its stubby fingers ended in black claws, and black bile dribbled over its triple chins. They looked like the dead things they had seen when first passing through the dining room. Gilbart had called them ‘dretches’. (4)
“Demon!” Ratchis warned, spinning around and raising his sword.
“Demons!” Martin corrected, seeing another of the things come out from around the conical end of the machine and another climbing around atop the skin covered ribs.
“Demons?” Where?!” Gunthar called out, tearing the curtain aside and stepping into the chamber with his swords drawn, looking around.
Kazrack hurried out past the Neergaardian and dove under a portion of the machine, crawling out to the other side to reach his companions. He stood just in time to see a fourth dretch leap from the shadows of the machine, as Ratchis tore one in half with one might blow of his great sword. It made a sound like an echoing belch and fell over to ooze black grease as its rubbery skin began to quickly dissolve.
One of the blubbery demons came around to get at Martin and Roland from the other side, so the watch-mage cast his greater invisibility on the Bastite. The demon responded by belching out a green noxious cloud at the two of them. However, both Martin and Roland were able to avoid the worse of it. Gunthar pulled himself up on to the machine to face the one up there, while another came out from under the machine to claw at Kazrack.
Roland, still invisible, leapt at the dretch near him and Martin, as the watch-mage took up a defensive posture as best he could. The demon was forced back to avoid being grappled, but suffered deep and long scratches of the folds of its naked body.
Ratchis cut another down, but was surprised as another appeared above him atop the machine to belch down another stinking cloud. The half-orc’s might lungs allowed him to resist the noxious vapors and hold his breath for a time.
Gunthar cut one down easily and then leapt atop the breathing ribbed area of the machine, stabbing the one that appeared above Ratchis. However, one of the thin ribs cracked beneath his boot.
Bastian had moved to join the fray, but the narrow ways around the machine thwarted him, while Sergio remained by the curtain singing an encouraging song, but refraining from getting any closer to the fiends.
There was an ear-piercing screech as Kazrack drove his fiendbane halberd into one of the dretchs and it fell to not rise again, quickly beginning to dissolve as the others had. Gunthar pushed the demon above down between Roland and Ratchis and they quickly finished it between the two of them.
The fight was over, and they all took a moment to catch their breaths as the strange machine continued to sputter and fart and cough and clatter.
The Keepers of the Gate walked the rest of the way around the machine, and Sergio hurried to join them, going on about how the dretchs proved that Hurgun was up to no good and should not be trusted.
Around the conical shell-like corner of the machine they saw a red end of flesh striated with black that twisted into a huge puckered sphincter that that hung over a space in the floor on the left. It was dripping yellow viscous fluid from a tear near the hole. Just beyond it was metal platform attached to the machine that was about six feet high. Steps curved up to it, and some kind of metal chute grafted onto the top of the machine was reached from up there.
“I think this is the beginning…” Martin pointed to the chute, and then to the sphincter. “And the end of the machine.”
There was a tridrone motionless and flat on its triangular bottom atop the platform. Another modron, this one a spherical monodrone, walked back and forth at the base of the stairs, clicking randomly.
The Keepers of the Gate spread out a bit to keep watch while Martin made a mental tally of the places that machine was broken and cut.
“Wish me luck,” the watch-mage said, as he walked up onto the platform and sat with his legs folded before him. He drew the great book from his pack, running his hand over the black oil skin bag. He took a deep breath and whispered a prayer. “Isis, guard my soul against the power I must now wield…”
Ratchis moved to the bottom of the steps and the monodrone clicked confusedly and took up its pacing nearby.
Hoping Kazrack’s protection from evil might help lend him some aid as well, Martin drew out the black book from its slick second skin, feeling the deep grooves of the blackened skin that served as its cover. He cast the oilskin bag aside and lay the book on his lap, tracing the raised black concentric metal circles pressed into it.
“Show me the spell that will fix this modron machine,” Martin the Green said aloud, taking his hand off the book. The cover opened of its own accord and the thick yellowed pages began to flip rapidly, stopping at a pair of pages filled with arcane sigils and formulas like none the watch-mage had ever seen. He looked it over for a moment, tracing with the tip of his finger without touching the actual page. The runes were traced in blood, and though it seemed long dried in most places, in some places the blood seemed to ooze fresh.
“Alter Reality…” Martin whispered, his lower lip shivering. For a moment he thought about how much more than this machine might be fixed, but he closed his eyes and spoke aloud again. “No. Show me the spell of sculpting flesh…”
The pages began to flip forward again, and then flipped back to a page with several detailed diagrams of rearranging facial features and closing wounds. It was the right spell, and Martin instinctively knew that these spells were permanent scrolls. He would be able to cast many times himself without their ever disappearing from the pages as long as he paid the price of the tome.
“Mutatio Liquefactam Carnifactus!” Martin chanted and stood, letting the book drop to the platform. He clutched his chest for a moment as there was the crackle of dark energies about him, and he felt his constitution weaken. (5)
“Martin! Are you alright?” Ratchis put his foot upon the steps to start to climb, but the watch-mage stood straight up and held out his hand. Martin walked down the steps and Ratchis stepped out of his way. He reached out with hands and the flesh of the machine became like clay to his touch. He smoothed over a great gash in one spot and then walked over to do a smaller one where a tube-like connection of bony material wove in and out of the sides and top of it.
There were four places where he affected repairs. As he worked the flesh to carefully close the rents in the machine, he considered whether he’d have enough time to use the spell to fix his face. There was an insistent feeling that there was plenty of time, almost like a second voice in his head trying to reassure him. Suspicious, Martin finished the repairs anyway, and finally he turned to the others with his hand hanging over his own face.
“I think I may have time to…” He brought his finger closer to his face and then stopped. Less than a moment later, the spell’s energy was gone.
“I was going to use the remaining power to fix my face,” Martin said to the other sadly. The great festering crease ran from beneath his left eye, down past his mouth. He could feel bits of it liquefying and dripping as he talked. The side of his nose felt dry and cracked to the touch, like it might flake off in one great piece. “But then it seemed too easy… I mean, I shouldn’t use the book’s power for my own benefit, however small… It could… It could lead to a bad path. I didn’t like that the Book was encouraging me to do it.”
Kazrack walked over and reaching up patted his companion on the shoulder nodding wordlessly.
The great living machine shuddered for a moment and then all the strange sounds died down to be replaced by a hum that ran from one end of the machine to the other. Finally, it was quiet.
“Well, I think that should do it,” Martin said, his shoulders sagging.
“Do what?” Kazrack asked. “I still am not sure what you accomplished.”
The watch-mage pointed to the monodrone that was walking back and forth aimlessly, and then to the tridrone atop the platform. “We need to put those in the machine.” He then pointed to the chute by the platform. “And hope for the best.”
While Martin put the book away again, Ratchis hefted the tridrone over his head and dropped it into the chute. He noted it was missing one of its legs and two of its arms. There was a sound like a clunking shuffle. He then herded the spherical monodrone into the chute as well.
The machine began to hum and then there was a rhythmic churning that reverberated back and forth in the front part of it.
“And now we can move on and destroy the Book,” Martin said, turning to the others.
“Perhaps we should return to the Control Room,” Kazrack suggested.
“The Earth Room,” Ratchis disagreed. “The Audience Chamber. We need to gather the broken modrons and feed them to this thing.”
Bastian nodded.
End of Session #96
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) You can read about the Sculpt Flesh spell by clicking here.
(2) In Aquerra necromantic magic is categorized as either ‘white’, ‘gray’ or ‘black’. You can read more about it here.
(3) You can see the layout of the Modron Station behind the sblock” [sblock]
(4) See Session #93
(5) DM’s Note: Martin suffered a permanent point of Constitution drain. However, he also realized in that moment that he need only pay that price once, later he might cast spells with greater costs paid by others, whether either by coercion, trickery or threat.
Last edited:
Manzanita
First Post
Wow. Well that wasn't so bad. I'm glad. I like Martin, & I hate to see him suffer. (I'm not really rat-bastard DM material!) I hope he can get rid of the book and have some semblence of a normal life afterwards.
I'll be interested to read the DM commentary. What were you thinking when you originally did that Osirus ceremony. You saw an opportunity, I guess, and went for it. You knew eventually Martin would need to do this spell on this machine?
I'll be interested to read the DM commentary. What were you thinking when you originally did that Osirus ceremony. You saw an opportunity, I guess, and went for it. You knew eventually Martin would need to do this spell on this machine?
Gold Roger
First Post
Somehow this stuck out to me as a great statement. Of course it's quite appropiate for a guy whose face is coming off.
Also it's good to hear that I'm not the only one whose Dretches belch out their stinking clouds.
Gold Roger
First Post
I've got a question that just struck me:
The prospect that one of the PC's could have died in the maze sounds quite true. Did you have any "emergency plan" to introduce new PC's/revive dead ones? Any plans for the case of a TPK?
The prospect that one of the PC's could have died in the maze sounds quite true. Did you have any "emergency plan" to introduce new PC's/revive dead ones? Any plans for the case of a TPK?
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Manzanita said:
I am not sure I have the energy or inclination to do the DM Commentaries anymore - at least not in the written out essay mode, but as always I love answering any questions you guys have in as much detail as I can.
Manzanita said:
“I shall retrieve the Book of Black Circles from the Brotherhood of the Lost, cast one spell from it and then destroy it, or forfeit my life.”
When I came up with those words to be spoken by/through Martin the Green I had no idea what the spell would be that he would have to cast or how the Book of Black Circles would be destroyed.
The Book of Black Circles was just a note in my DM's Campaign notebook that was something like "Marciosias' Book - Knowledge of seven foul necromancers. . ."
I just knew I wanted to link up Martin's deal with what I was coming up with for Beorth (remember him?
) in terms of the monks, so that two player characters would have a similar motivation that would serve to bind the party together.At one point I thought the spell from the book would be used to open the way to Hurgun's Maze, but I dropped that idea once I started thinking more about what Hurgun's Maze was like and the role of the modrons within it (which will be explained a little better in the next installment) and eventually I liked the idea of the spell being a "gray" spell - something he could potentially abuse, but not something he might just refuse to cast if he deemed it inherently evil to do so.
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Gold Roger said:
This is the climactic adventure.
If someone died (and someone does die) then that would be it. They would be welcome to play Gunthar or Sergio, or one of the other NPCs that might appear (if possible) - but short of the other PCs finding resurrecting magic (not likely in Aquerra, but what place more likely than Hurgun's Maze?) - a dead character is dead.
Actually, there is another exception to this, but I cannot say what it is without spoiling, so I will tittilate with that. . .
As for a TPK: It would simply be the end of the campaign. They failed to fix Hurgun's Maze. Story over for them. By this time we knew we were moving on to play Mutants & Masterminds, so we would have done that, and the next time I ran an Aquerra campaign, their new characters might one day hear rumors of what has been happening in Derome-Delem (the problems greatly advanced, of course), that is, if they even cared.
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