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Shemeska's Planescape Storyhour (Updated 29 Jan 2014)
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<blockquote data-quote="Shemeska" data-source="post: 1566618" data-attributes="member: 11697"><p><strong>Shorter update, but an update</strong></p><p></p><p>[I've got double this written, but the next part isn't finished so it'll wait till next time to post it. I'd post it all tommorow but I have to help friends move and that takes priorty for the moment. Enjoy hopefully]</p><p></p><p></p><p>The companions gazed out into an empty gray void stretching out as far as the eyes could see. Several brilliant, glowing orbs of light hung suspended out in the empty space around them, illuminating the large outcrop of rock that they stood upon. Like an inverted mountain it hung there in space, connected to a single black marble bridge that reached out to another, larger hanging rock suspended in the void. Hulking upon that second island of stone stood a solid and utilitarian stone fortress that could have been picked up off of any random prime world and deposited where it now stood. Some portions of it seemed of human make, others seemed to be constructed in more of a dwarven style. Nothing particularly stood out to give any real clue of the origin of its owners, or at least its makers. Certainly nothing stood out in comparison to the demiplane it sat within.</p><p></p><p>The temperature was pleasant and a slow warm breeze drifted across their faces as they gazed up at the castle sitting there motionless in space. The orbs in the empty sky shed their harsh white light over the landscape of the demiplane, stretching out their feeble illumination into the empty expanse of nothing that surrounded them.</p><p></p><p>Clueless looked at the others, “Well… so much for going right back to Sigil.”</p><p></p><p>Fyrehowl sighed angrily, “And you believed him? The man dealt with Nycaloths. That doesn’t make him trustworthy as far as I’m concerned.”</p><p></p><p>“I still hold to my previous statement that he needs to join the Dustmen. You don’t find too many walking dead men outside of that group…” Toras smirked with the anticipation of future comeuppance for the arrogant genasi wizard that had blackmailed them all into this originally.</p><p></p><p>The group walked on towards the castle, over the connecting span of stone and up to the gates themselves. The demiplane was utterly silent as they stood and gazed up at the closed doors of the fortress. Flanking the entrance stood two square stone towers with clearly visible arrow slits. None of them, nor the ramparts above, seemed to be manned. From the exterior the place looked deserted.</p><p></p><p>Nisha scampered up closer to the gates with a cautious look crossing over her face. She looked back at the group as she tapped the door, “They’re not locked. But there’s some piking strange magic around…” With the words hung on her lips the tiefling suddenly blinked out of sight, vanished.</p><p></p><p>“Umm…” Clueless’s wings blazed with a concerned flicker of faerie-fire.</p><p></p><p>“One would expect you to know your employers better, and their tactics. Just step on the stones in front of the gate it’s clearly a teleportation circle worked into the fortress.” The factol said with a bemused bit of irritation as she stepped forwards herself to vanish upon touching the marble paving stones directly before the gate. Shrugging and hoping for the best, the others followed suit.</p><p></p><p>When the spell’s effect faded, all of them stood inside a large meeting room perhaps fifty feet across and equally long. The unadorned chamber was furnished with only a large table at one end and a shimmering tapestry that hung on the wall to their left. A single door led out of the room near to the end with the table and was flanked by two unmoving dull grayish stone golems, each in the same plain and utilitarian style of the fortress itself. All of this however was not what gathered the rapt attention of the newly arrived companions and their guest.</p><p></p><p>Standing in the center of the room and flanked by two others of his kind as well as a much more elaborate looking shield golem, was a twelve foot tall, blue-skinned and richly robed humanoid. A mercane. The wizard, Bartol Trenevein was nowhere in sight.</p><p></p><p>“I congratulate you all on a job completed ahead of schedule. I hope that there were no unforeseen problems.” The voice of the primary mercane rung out loudly in the minds of the group, steady and confident. </p><p></p><p>It then continued, “Factol Nilesia, I am honored by your presence. Your return has been too long in the making. My associates and I, we welcome you. Know that your dream remains alive, even while your faction has splintered. We seek to aid you in your goals and make that dream a reality. If you will follow my assistants, they wish to obtain the details of your absence, inform you as to the changed face of the kreigstanz, and expedite your return to the City of Doors.”</p><p></p><p>Nilesia paused at the words of the mercane, especially the part about the disintegration of the Mercykillers. A moment later and she steeled herself and walked towards the taller figure with a nod of respect and gratitude. “I extend my thanks to you as well. Whatever your motives may be you have righted a wrong. You have my respect as do those who brought me here. See that they are rewarded.”</p><p></p><p>Wordlessly and as impassive as ever the lead mercane motioned towards the single exit and the golems moved to the side as the two smaller attendant mercanes nodded to Nilesia and escorted her from the room. As soon as she and they had left the room the golems closed the doors and retook their vigil.</p><p>A sudden flash near the back of the room drew the gaze of the group and an unconcerned glance from the mercane. Standing there behind the party were two figures with a curious and wary look on their faces: an axe wielding and armored cleric bearing the symbols of the Torillian god of War, Tempus, and an orange robed aasimar wizard. The wizard’s bushy tail was nearly bottlebrushed out behind him as he looked at the party and then the mercane.</p><p></p><p>The mercane motioned in the air and a number of simple, unadorned chairs appeared for each of the members of its captive audience. “Be seated.”</p><p></p><p>“Now wait just a minute. Who in the 9 blazing Hells are you?” Toras asked, remaining standing and even walking towards the mercane a few steps. The mercane seem entirely nonplussed at it all.</p><p></p><p>“Sit down Toras of Andros before I find myself down one servant bought and paid for. My name to you may as well be ‘master’, but if it makes you sit and listen then you may also refer to me as Patriarch Dalmar Imshenviire. Two of you are already familiar with my name. Now associate a person with it.” Imshenviire gestures one elongated finger at Florian and Tristol where they sat nervously.</p><p></p><p>Fyrehowl blinked and looked around the room, sniffing curiously at some scent on the air. Clueless looked at her oddly as she glanced around the room for something he obviously wasn’t aware of. Eventually she stopped and looked back towards the mercane but the nagging look of suspicion never left her face.</p><p></p><p>“Whatever happened to that arrogant son-of-a-bitch Trenevain?” Clueless asked with a flutter of his wings beating irritatedly on the air.</p><p></p><p>“Nothing you should be concerned with. As far as you must know, you are now my property as you were his previously. The same conditions that bound you to his service apply now to me as well.” Imshenviire’s telepathic voice washed out over the group with arrogance to equal the genasi’s.</p><p></p><p>“So I take it you were his puppet master from the beginning? What was with the Nycaloths then. Don’t they make better bodyguards than golems?” Clueless egged on but the mercane ignored his questions. Fyrehowl once more glanced around the room with a distressed and paranoid look.</p><p></p><p>“Be quiet and be seated as your indentured servitude now enters its second phase. Two others, procured in similar fashion, join you in your service. You will require their aid for your next task. Now that we have the factol…” Imshenviire paused on the phrase with obvious pleasure, “….your next task is this.”</p><p></p><p>The mention of a second task drew forth irritated sighs from his subjects as he gestured with one hand to conjure forth a shimmering chest out of the air in front of the party. The chest opened of its own volition to reveal a collection of papers inside its misty interior. Nisha reached out to collect them, gave them a cursory glance and then passed them around to the others. Clearly stamped on each of the pages in brilliant but fading red ink were the following words, “BANNED BY ORDER OF FACTOL SARIN OF THE HARMONIUM, Possession of these maps is an offense punishable by fine, hard labor, imprisonment, or death.” The papers were some sort of collection of maps, each of them annotated in elaborate handwritten githyanki script.</p><p></p><p>“If you will examine those maps, they detail a specific section of the deep ethereal in which your next target lays.” The mercane patriarch waved its other hand towards Nisha and the planar compass at her belt began to glow with a soft light. “You will need that. I would go myself on this task, but I would not be… welcome. The planar compass will give you further instructions once you reach the proper location in the ethereal. From there you will take an ethereal curtain to the actual location of your task.”</p><p></p><p>Tristol looked up from the maps, clearly about to ask a question, but the mercane cut him off abruptly. “The tapestry at the rear of this chamber is an active ethereal tapestry that will lead you out into a small chamber built on the ethereal proper at the boundary of this demiplane. You may rest there as you feel the need to do so before leaving, and there is an ample supply of food and drink there as well. However I would not tarry there long as your two newest companions are living on borrowed time.”</p><p></p><p>Florian gave the mercane an icy glare and walked towards the tapestry without another word as Tristol’s face flushed a dozen shades of red and his ears flattened back onto his head, black facing up.</p><p></p><p>“Hold on.” Clueless glared up at the mercane patriarch, “This last little stunt in Acheron was supposed to be the only thing we had to do before what was taken from us was returned or the situations making us do this were reversed. What assurances do we have that we’re not going to be brought back here after risking our lives yet again just to be sent out to do some other errand?”</p><p></p><p>“You don’t,” Imshenviire replied as impassively as ever. “And considering the circumstances you have little choice but to do as I tell you. However if it will insure your prompt cooperation then very well, if you finish this next task then I will release you from my service. I have nothing more for you to perform after this nor is it in my best interests to retain your services or the conditions binding you to myself. Business may be harsh at times, but it is never overly vindictive for no reason. Return here when you are done and we will collectively wash our hands of this. Until then however you are mind to do with as I see fit. Go.”</p><p></p><p>Under the baleful watch of their mercane taskmaster the group walked back towards the shimmering veil of the ethereal curtain, one by one stepping through and vanishing from sight. Fyrehowl paused to once more look around the room with a wary look before Nisha nudged her forwards.</p><p></p><p>“Come on, let’s just get this over with. What’s wrong? You’re acting all wierded out and paranoid. At least the first part is my job, find your own shtick.”</p><p></p><p>“There’s… nevermind.” The lupinal shrugged off her feeling of lingering dread about the whole place, the entire situation really, and stepped through the curtain with Nisha trotting close behind.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Shemeska, post: 1566618, member: 11697"] [b]Shorter update, but an update[/b] [I've got double this written, but the next part isn't finished so it'll wait till next time to post it. I'd post it all tommorow but I have to help friends move and that takes priorty for the moment. Enjoy hopefully] The companions gazed out into an empty gray void stretching out as far as the eyes could see. Several brilliant, glowing orbs of light hung suspended out in the empty space around them, illuminating the large outcrop of rock that they stood upon. Like an inverted mountain it hung there in space, connected to a single black marble bridge that reached out to another, larger hanging rock suspended in the void. Hulking upon that second island of stone stood a solid and utilitarian stone fortress that could have been picked up off of any random prime world and deposited where it now stood. Some portions of it seemed of human make, others seemed to be constructed in more of a dwarven style. Nothing particularly stood out to give any real clue of the origin of its owners, or at least its makers. Certainly nothing stood out in comparison to the demiplane it sat within. The temperature was pleasant and a slow warm breeze drifted across their faces as they gazed up at the castle sitting there motionless in space. The orbs in the empty sky shed their harsh white light over the landscape of the demiplane, stretching out their feeble illumination into the empty expanse of nothing that surrounded them. Clueless looked at the others, “Well… so much for going right back to Sigil.” Fyrehowl sighed angrily, “And you believed him? The man dealt with Nycaloths. That doesn’t make him trustworthy as far as I’m concerned.” “I still hold to my previous statement that he needs to join the Dustmen. You don’t find too many walking dead men outside of that group…” Toras smirked with the anticipation of future comeuppance for the arrogant genasi wizard that had blackmailed them all into this originally. The group walked on towards the castle, over the connecting span of stone and up to the gates themselves. The demiplane was utterly silent as they stood and gazed up at the closed doors of the fortress. Flanking the entrance stood two square stone towers with clearly visible arrow slits. None of them, nor the ramparts above, seemed to be manned. From the exterior the place looked deserted. Nisha scampered up closer to the gates with a cautious look crossing over her face. She looked back at the group as she tapped the door, “They’re not locked. But there’s some piking strange magic around…” With the words hung on her lips the tiefling suddenly blinked out of sight, vanished. “Umm…” Clueless’s wings blazed with a concerned flicker of faerie-fire. “One would expect you to know your employers better, and their tactics. Just step on the stones in front of the gate it’s clearly a teleportation circle worked into the fortress.” The factol said with a bemused bit of irritation as she stepped forwards herself to vanish upon touching the marble paving stones directly before the gate. Shrugging and hoping for the best, the others followed suit. When the spell’s effect faded, all of them stood inside a large meeting room perhaps fifty feet across and equally long. The unadorned chamber was furnished with only a large table at one end and a shimmering tapestry that hung on the wall to their left. A single door led out of the room near to the end with the table and was flanked by two unmoving dull grayish stone golems, each in the same plain and utilitarian style of the fortress itself. All of this however was not what gathered the rapt attention of the newly arrived companions and their guest. Standing in the center of the room and flanked by two others of his kind as well as a much more elaborate looking shield golem, was a twelve foot tall, blue-skinned and richly robed humanoid. A mercane. The wizard, Bartol Trenevein was nowhere in sight. “I congratulate you all on a job completed ahead of schedule. I hope that there were no unforeseen problems.” The voice of the primary mercane rung out loudly in the minds of the group, steady and confident. It then continued, “Factol Nilesia, I am honored by your presence. Your return has been too long in the making. My associates and I, we welcome you. Know that your dream remains alive, even while your faction has splintered. We seek to aid you in your goals and make that dream a reality. If you will follow my assistants, they wish to obtain the details of your absence, inform you as to the changed face of the kreigstanz, and expedite your return to the City of Doors.” Nilesia paused at the words of the mercane, especially the part about the disintegration of the Mercykillers. A moment later and she steeled herself and walked towards the taller figure with a nod of respect and gratitude. “I extend my thanks to you as well. Whatever your motives may be you have righted a wrong. You have my respect as do those who brought me here. See that they are rewarded.” Wordlessly and as impassive as ever the lead mercane motioned towards the single exit and the golems moved to the side as the two smaller attendant mercanes nodded to Nilesia and escorted her from the room. As soon as she and they had left the room the golems closed the doors and retook their vigil. A sudden flash near the back of the room drew the gaze of the group and an unconcerned glance from the mercane. Standing there behind the party were two figures with a curious and wary look on their faces: an axe wielding and armored cleric bearing the symbols of the Torillian god of War, Tempus, and an orange robed aasimar wizard. The wizard’s bushy tail was nearly bottlebrushed out behind him as he looked at the party and then the mercane. The mercane motioned in the air and a number of simple, unadorned chairs appeared for each of the members of its captive audience. “Be seated.” “Now wait just a minute. Who in the 9 blazing Hells are you?” Toras asked, remaining standing and even walking towards the mercane a few steps. The mercane seem entirely nonplussed at it all. “Sit down Toras of Andros before I find myself down one servant bought and paid for. My name to you may as well be ‘master’, but if it makes you sit and listen then you may also refer to me as Patriarch Dalmar Imshenviire. Two of you are already familiar with my name. Now associate a person with it.” Imshenviire gestures one elongated finger at Florian and Tristol where they sat nervously. Fyrehowl blinked and looked around the room, sniffing curiously at some scent on the air. Clueless looked at her oddly as she glanced around the room for something he obviously wasn’t aware of. Eventually she stopped and looked back towards the mercane but the nagging look of suspicion never left her face. “Whatever happened to that arrogant son-of-a-bitch Trenevain?” Clueless asked with a flutter of his wings beating irritatedly on the air. “Nothing you should be concerned with. As far as you must know, you are now my property as you were his previously. The same conditions that bound you to his service apply now to me as well.” Imshenviire’s telepathic voice washed out over the group with arrogance to equal the genasi’s. “So I take it you were his puppet master from the beginning? What was with the Nycaloths then. Don’t they make better bodyguards than golems?” Clueless egged on but the mercane ignored his questions. Fyrehowl once more glanced around the room with a distressed and paranoid look. “Be quiet and be seated as your indentured servitude now enters its second phase. Two others, procured in similar fashion, join you in your service. You will require their aid for your next task. Now that we have the factol…” Imshenviire paused on the phrase with obvious pleasure, “….your next task is this.” The mention of a second task drew forth irritated sighs from his subjects as he gestured with one hand to conjure forth a shimmering chest out of the air in front of the party. The chest opened of its own volition to reveal a collection of papers inside its misty interior. Nisha reached out to collect them, gave them a cursory glance and then passed them around to the others. Clearly stamped on each of the pages in brilliant but fading red ink were the following words, “BANNED BY ORDER OF FACTOL SARIN OF THE HARMONIUM, Possession of these maps is an offense punishable by fine, hard labor, imprisonment, or death.” The papers were some sort of collection of maps, each of them annotated in elaborate handwritten githyanki script. “If you will examine those maps, they detail a specific section of the deep ethereal in which your next target lays.” The mercane patriarch waved its other hand towards Nisha and the planar compass at her belt began to glow with a soft light. “You will need that. I would go myself on this task, but I would not be… welcome. The planar compass will give you further instructions once you reach the proper location in the ethereal. From there you will take an ethereal curtain to the actual location of your task.” Tristol looked up from the maps, clearly about to ask a question, but the mercane cut him off abruptly. “The tapestry at the rear of this chamber is an active ethereal tapestry that will lead you out into a small chamber built on the ethereal proper at the boundary of this demiplane. You may rest there as you feel the need to do so before leaving, and there is an ample supply of food and drink there as well. However I would not tarry there long as your two newest companions are living on borrowed time.” Florian gave the mercane an icy glare and walked towards the tapestry without another word as Tristol’s face flushed a dozen shades of red and his ears flattened back onto his head, black facing up. “Hold on.” Clueless glared up at the mercane patriarch, “This last little stunt in Acheron was supposed to be the only thing we had to do before what was taken from us was returned or the situations making us do this were reversed. What assurances do we have that we’re not going to be brought back here after risking our lives yet again just to be sent out to do some other errand?” “You don’t,” Imshenviire replied as impassively as ever. “And considering the circumstances you have little choice but to do as I tell you. However if it will insure your prompt cooperation then very well, if you finish this next task then I will release you from my service. I have nothing more for you to perform after this nor is it in my best interests to retain your services or the conditions binding you to myself. Business may be harsh at times, but it is never overly vindictive for no reason. Return here when you are done and we will collectively wash our hands of this. Until then however you are mind to do with as I see fit. Go.” Under the baleful watch of their mercane taskmaster the group walked back towards the shimmering veil of the ethereal curtain, one by one stepping through and vanishing from sight. Fyrehowl paused to once more look around the room with a wary look before Nisha nudged her forwards. “Come on, let’s just get this over with. What’s wrong? You’re acting all wierded out and paranoid. At least the first part is my job, find your own shtick.” “There’s… nevermind.” The lupinal shrugged off her feeling of lingering dread about the whole place, the entire situation really, and stepped through the curtain with Nisha trotting close behind. [/QUOTE]
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Shemeska's Planescape Storyhour (Updated 29 Jan 2014)
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