Sagiro's Story Hour: The FINAL Adventures of Abernathy's Company (FINISHED 7/3/14)

Parthol nods. “And have you figured out what the ‘black goo’ is?”

Ernie goes pale. “I just did. It’s from where the hand of the Adversary hit the ground.”

“Quite literally,” says Parthol, “it’s the Adversary’s blood.”
I knew it!

Now I just have to figure out where the mirror-universe Mrs. Horn fits into this whole mess, and I'll have it all wrapped up in a neat bow.
 

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I'm not even playing this and I crapped my pants (figuratively) when I read Parthol was sitting IN the Greenhouse...astral form or not!

Too late now, but what woulda happened if someone had dropped a dimensional anchor on his astral butt? hahaha.

Still, as always, great writing and a great read! Thank you Sagiro (and players) for an unforgettable story.

I have no clue who the guy who recognized Aramis is though...I was assuming the red-armored crew initially. But Sagiro's explanation seems to indicate that it isn't Octesian.

Can't wait to read on.
Cheers.
--SD
PS: the group pic(s) is(are) still in the works. ;) I haven't forgotten.
 

Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 330
No, Not Even For One Measly Week

Aravis’s vision is the main topic of conversation over breakfast. The party quickly deduces that the first two people are Tarsos and Meledien, red-armored servants of the Emperor. But who was the pale man with stringy hair, and what debt might he owe to Aravis? No one recognizes him, not even when Aravis draws out a sketch.

“Annon Dun” is also something heard once before – a place name, though not even the Hae Kalkas Sages’ Consortium knew anything about it. Some in the party vaguely recall thinking that Annon Dun was the name of a distant continent, perhaps even the one that turned out to be Kivia.

But finding nothing specifically actionable about the vision, they turn to a more important task: the raising of Flicker from the dead. They march in procession to the Temple of Yondalla bearing the little halfling’s remains, and Ernie instructs his friends to lay the salvaged pieces upon the altar. As congregants file in to witness the ritual, Ernie sets out their recently-acquired gems, and burns incense of cinnamon and blacktallow. Flicker’s parents, Crick and Mora, watch apprehensively from the front row. Soon the fane is filled to capacity; no one has performed a resurrection here in living memory.

When the crowd has quieted, Ernie speaks. “Yondalla, Flicker is your child too. I know sometimes he’s a little reckless, and he values gold more than a person should, but he is a good and true servant to you. He has saved the world, and saved us, more times than I can remember. He is brave, loyal, and true... and we need him. Will you send him back to us?”

He casts resurrection, and when he’s finished, the components vanish. Flicker doesn’t immediately come back to life, which is not unexpected, given how long it has taken in the past. But instead of days, only ten minutes pass before Flicker’s silhouette appears around his remains, and then forms into a whole and uninjured body. His eyes flutter open, and clerics of Yondalla move to cover him with soft robes.

Ernie smiles. “Welcome back, Flick.”

Flicker sits up suddenly and stares back, wide-eyed. “Ernie! I had a full house! I was finally going to beat him!”

Ernie is obviously taken aback. “Er… you consented to come back, didn’t you?”

“Yes! I know! But did you have to do it right then?

A murmur goes through the crowd. Those who don’t know Flicker are clearly scandalized, while those who do are trying not to laugh.

“Do you… do you want to go back?” asks Ernie.

Flicker lets out a long breath. “No. If I wanted to stay more than I wanted to come back, I would have stayed. And thank you! Say, did we win?”

“Yeah,” says Dranko. “We beat him, temporarily at least. Want to see?”

Dranko pulls out the skull of Ten Old Bones. This time the assemblage lets out a collective gasp of horror.

Aravis whispers harshly: “Not here, Dranko!”

Ernie looks heavenward. “Dranko, please don’t play with the lich’s skull on Yondalla’s holy ground.”

As Dranko sheepishly stows the skull, Flicker’s parents come rushing forward to hug their son. “It wasn’t an easy choice,” he tells them. “Heaven is… really nice.” Then, to the party, he adds: “I was back at the Inn Between. It was different this time, though. I could have stayed there forever, and it would have been all right. Oh, and before I forget: when this is all over, we have to do what Belshikun asks us to do. That’s what Barnabas told me to remember. I asked him how we’ll know when it’s all over, and he said, ‘assuming you’re alive, you’ll know. And if you’re not, it won’t matter.’

“Thanks for bringing me back.”


/*/


After a celebratory lunch, the Company sits in the Greenhouse living room and discusses various threats and objectives. They have a surplus of life-force to power some wishes and miracles, and there are plenty of options for adjusting the world to their benefit.

>> The party went up to 19th level after Flicker was resurrected. We use Action Points in lieu of XP, and at leveling boundaries I allow the party to burn excess action points as XP to power spells like wish and miracle.

They settle on three things: Two of them are Ten Old Bones’ phylactery, and learning about the mystery man from Aravis’s vision. For the third, Ernie decides that he can better serve Charagan and Yondalla by forsaking his martial training and becoming purely a cleric. (He has long been feeling that he is serving neither role satisfactorily.) After some closeted discussion with Morningstar, Ernie casts his miracle. Something changes inside of him, something small but with an anticipatory potential. There is no immediate shift in his abilities, but Ernie is satisfied that something has been put in motion, and that now it’s in Yondalla’s hands.

For Ten Old Bones, they spend both a wish AND a miracle, thinking that it will take such extreme measures to achieve that sort of result. Morningstar and Aravis cast together: ”We wish and pray that any and all phylacteries and soul objects connected with Ten Old Bones be irrevocably destroyed, and his soul be freed to pass on to its final destination, with no possibility of return.”

A powerful wave of magic rushes outward from them, and both casters are treated to a brief vision: beneath the collapsed ruins of Nazg Hodeth, one-time lair of Zeg and home of the Necromantic Forge, there is a small leaden box. Inside that box is a collection of bugbear teeth. One of these, indistinguishable from the others, quietly disintegrates.

With that taken care of, Aravis casts again: “I wish to know everything possible about the third person in my most recent vision from the Maze.”

There is a moment when he realizes that his magic will be blocked. Whoever that person is, he has massively powerful abjurations and wards protecting him from divination. Mind blank is only a part of it. But Aravis’s power is also formidable, and despite all of the target’s defenses, his name slips through and comes to Aravis’s mind.

Seven Dark Words

There are groans all around the room. The Mad Sculptor! The architect of Het Branoi, whose grand experiment to rescue the Adversary was doomed to failure, and who afterward wandered the Slices carving little statuettes of Kibi. He seems to have recovered from his madness, returned from wherever he ended up after Het Branoi was destroyed, and now has assumed a leadership position among their enemies. Great.


/*/


With Flicker back on his feet, Dranko takes him to check in with the Undermen. They stop by Turlissa’s bakery en route, but this time, far from seeming happy to see him, she merely eyes him coolly, and with a trace of curiosity. Dranko figures she’s just waiting out the one customer in the shop, but even after the store is vacant save for the three of them, Turlissa betrays no mischievous familiarity.

“You’re looking surprisingly yourself today,” she comments.

“Should I look like someone else?” asks Dranko.

Turlissa glowers. “Is this another silly test?”

Dranko laughs. “Talk to me like I should know stuff but have forgotten it.”

Turlissa isn’t laughing. “If this is what we’re playing at, I can’t tell you anything more than last time, whoever you are.”

Dranko tries to convince her of his identity by telling her about the secret entrances to the Guild, but that only makes her more standoffish. “Convince Lucas,” she says finally, before turning her back on him.

Dranko disguises himself as Turlissa as he and Flicker enter the Manse via the abandoned tenement entrance. When several Undermen look surprised to see ‘her’ there, he drops the disguise and assumes his own visage. He expects immediate recognition and deference, but instead the closest guild member jumps back and draws a blade.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?”

Flicker shakes his head and decides to stay out of this, blending into the shadows. Dranko scratches himself. “Why do you want to kill me? I’m Dranko.”

“Who?”

A terrible feeling comes over Dranko. This is, after all, the first time he’s been back here since giving up his fame to a creature from the Far Realms.

“Have you ever seen me before?” he asks the man.

He hears the sound of more blades being draws, all around him now.

“Should I have?” says the rogue. “Let me ask you again: how did you get down here?”

“Sorry,” Dranko explains. “I’m a special agent of Lucas’s – I don’t often come here.”

“Then why don’t you walk with us, and we can tell Lucas about it.”

Dranko’s preternatural senses tell him that one of his underlings is about to place a dagger against his neck. He quickly disarms him, tripping the fellow with this whip and sending him sprawling. The other half-dozen Undermen jump him, but it takes him only about fifteen seconds to knock them all unconscious and leave them snoring in a heap. Alas, the sounds of the lopsided battle bring more footsteps toward them from several directions.

He is relieved to hear the sound of Lucas’s voice. “Stop!”

Dranko smiles and waves. “Hi Lucas!”

“Back off of him,” barks Lucas to the encroaching guild members.

“You know this man?” asks one of them.

“Yes,” says Lucas. “He’s an informant. He’s here to see me.”

“How did he know how to get down here?”

“He’s a trusted informant.” He snaps at Dranko. “Now, you, come with me.”

Lucas marches Dranko down the hallway to the Guildmaster’s office. Flicker catches up and joins them. Once they are inside with the door closed, Lucas sits down in a chair, and motions Dranko to sit in the Oracle’s customary seat.

“Of course,” says Lucas, already feeling a headache coming on, “you have a good explanation for this.”

Dranko nods. “Remember the time when I came back and I didn’t know who you were, because everything had changed?”

“Yes. But you know who I am now, so that didn’t happen this time.”

“That’s exactly right,” says Dranko. “Except for one thing. Last time I was here, everyone knew I was the head of the guild.”

“Um…” says Lucas. “No. No they didn’t.”

“Let’s assume this,” says Dranko. “I got hit on the head again, and this time I forgot why I’m supposed to keep it a secret when I’m here.”

Lucas manages not to cry, which is something. But he can’t help but blurt, “Can’t you stay out of trouble for one measly week?

“If it makes you feel any better,” says Dranko, “we just saved the world from the Emperor, and destroyed an evil lich in the process. Really.”

“Dranko, I know your extracurricular activities are very important, and that we’re all in your debt once again, but…”

“Oh, and I have tentacles,” says Dranko.

Lucas stares at him. “Invisible tentacles, apparently.”

“No, I can sprout them when I want to.”

“I don’t want to see that,” Lucas says quickly.

“Neither do I, honestly.”

“So,” says Lucas rubbing his temples. “Someone hit you on the head, and you didn’t forget who I was, or how to get in here, but you forgot about all the protocols that you set up yourself, about the hierarchy of the Guild leadership?”

“As far as I know, I never set those protocols up. Can you explain them to me?”

Ye Gods, he’s not paying me enough. “You are the Oracle,” says Lucas. “I am who everyone thinks is the Oracle. You are who everyone thinks is an assistant, an agent, who doesn’t spend much time here, and you are someone who does not ever use his actual personal appearance.”

“What appearance do I usually use?” asks Dranko.

“Oh, gods, you don’t remember, do you? You said it was some baker you knew once.”

Dranko changes into Turlus. “Yes, that,” says Lucas. “That’s what you look like when in the Manse. For your own safety, you said, the true identity of the Oracle should not be known. Of course now a dozen different members of the guild have seen your actual face…”

“So have me beaten up and thrown out!”

“I just told them you were a trusted informant,” says Lucas. “How is it going to look if now I have you beaten and thrown out? It will look like I don’t know what I’m doing! Look, I’ll think of something else. But please, please stop losing your memory. For someone who claims to be part of a group that saves the world all the time, you are the most infuriatingly vacuous, bafflingly obtuse…”

“What actually happened,” Dranko interrupts, “was that I traded away my fame. Back then, everyone knew who I was.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” says Lucas harshly.

“No, that’s the way it really was!” Dranko insists.

“That’s never the way it’s been!”

Dranko tries one more time. “I traded my fame to a tentacular entity from the Far Re…”

“STOP!” shouts Lucas. “I don’t want to know any more details about this. I will take it on faith that now you know how everything works, and we’re all fine, and I will smooth things over with the Guild. Now, would you like a report?”

“Yeah,” says Dranko. “That would be great.”


…to be continued…
 

Oh, lordy, it hurts just as much the second time. Whatever that far realm entity was, it was monstrously powerful. It reknit reality and caught me completely off-guard in the process. Poor Lucas.

For the record, after the tentacles I retrained my leadership feat for reckless offense, which allows you to take -4 to AC for +2 to hit.
 

A beautiful resurrection ceremony. A little odd that they brought a skull up there with them, though. I wonder who would have done that. I've read a lot about those famous heroes, and none of them seem so crass. It sounds like something a random vagrant would have done, but I don't remember seeing anyone else with them.
 
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Fantastic ceremony, nice job guys!

Say, PC, had you forgotten about the whole fame thing by this stage or did you just want to see how it had all justified itself retrospectively in the evil DM-mind?
 

Say, PC, had you forgotten about the whole fame thing by this stage or did you just want to see how it had all justified itself retrospectively in the evil DM-mind?
I hadn't expected the change to be quite this. . comprehensive. It wasn't just reality that was unraveled, it was history too. And while "my" past instructions to Lucas made complete sense in retrospect, they never even occurred to me at the time.
 


What's this "action points instead of XP" system? Is there a published variant on that or is it houseruled?
Here's the old first draft I wrote up for Sagiro, with some strike-through added on things that later got dropped. It's changed since this, too, but most of the fundamental house rules are correct.
 

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