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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 3977650" data-attributes="member: 2323">[PLAIN][Huzair #3] Pull the Other One[/PLAIN]Huzair rocketed away from the githyanki outpost as fast as his thoughts could carry him. As he went, he unsheathed Flameblade and what he saw made him stop short. The short sword was just that... a sword. No flames wreathed the weapon, no voice like a crackling campfire spoke as the blade came free of its sheath. It was just a chunk of metal, unremarkable except for the single fire rune etched into the blade above the hand guard."Oh, this is not good," the wizard said and drew himself to a full stop. He looked back toward the outpost which seemed smaller now, but still commanded the view. He couldn't see the mercanes' ship anymore; it was blotted out against the bulk of Akiv-tchai. Maybe he could find them and pay the gold to send him back. Maybe-Almost absently, Huzair noticed then that the short sword was twisting sluggishly in his hand. It was almost imperceptible, like a magnet tugging at the blade, making it twist weakly. On Oerune, he might not even have noticed it, but here, without gravity pulling at him, it was enough to draw his attention.Experimentally, he released his grip on the handle and watched as the blade drifted for a moment, then gradually straightened out and began moving away from him at an angle. Before it got too far, he grabbed it again, arresting its forward motion.Could this be Shamalin's pull, he wondered? It was subtle but insistent and he was just about ready to follow it when he let out a surprised yelp. It felt as if someone had suddenly reached into his head and begun to tug on his brain. He had a vision of a glittering swirl of color, like oiled mithril, set into the surface of a chunk of jagged rock floating in the astral void and knew with certainty that it was several hours of travel away. And while the sword's pull drew him back in the same general direction as the githyanki outpost, this was in nearly the opposite direction.Clearly this latter was the pull about which Shamalin had spoken. Why it had been so long in coming, the wizard could only guess. Until he met up with them, of course. Then he could simply ask or better yet, just chide them for dragging their feet.He smiled, sheathed his sword and set off like an arrow int he direction of the pull.The journey took as long as it took. Huzair had little success in trying to gauge the passage of minutes or hours. In the unchanging void of the astral plane he felt neither hunger nor thirst. There was nothing to tire him, and the scenery changed little. But he could sense the distance to the portal shrinking incrementally as he traveled so he pressed on.After a time, he spotted the silhouette of something dark and ovoid floating in the distance along his path and without knowing why, he could tell that it was his destination. He willed himself to go faster, but it seemed to have no effect; he traveled as fast as he traveled, approaching the dark shape purposefully.As he drew nearer, he began to pick out details of the floating object. It was egg-shaped or rather half-an-egg-shaped - as if someone had split it lengthwise. The edge was rough and jagged, and subtle contours marked one side while the other seemed flat and smooth. Gradually the hills and valleys on the one side resolved themselves into the rough approximation of a bestial face as Huzair approached. Its subtleties were unclear, lacking in details of individuality, but it was clearly a humanoid visage of lupine character - a gnoll, perhaps, or a werewolf. Its mouth was open in a perpetual snarl as it stared off into the silver expanse of the astral.Huzair was glad when he spotted the swirling metallic pool that marked the portal Shamalin had intended him to use. As he'd watched the slowly spinning face, he'd had the uncomfortable certainty that the portal would be inside that great stone maw. He was relieved as he swooped in toward the flat side of the stone head that his gut had been wrong.As he approached he felt gravity of a sort assert itself on him, drawing him inexorably down to the drifting island. He landed easily, his feet scritching on bits of pulverized rock that covered the flat surface. He took a quick look around and guessed that the stone face was several hundred feet across at its narrowest point, and perhaps twice that in the other direction. Scattered here and there across the plain were bits of shattered bone and dozens of humanoid skulls. They all seemed fresh, but the timeless nature of this plane made it difficult to determine with any certainty - they could well have laid there for a hundred years for all Huzair knew.The portal swirled on the ground nearby, and sparing another glance at the skeletal debris, the wizard approached the color pool, sucked in a deep breath and stepped into it.</blockquote>

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