the Jester
Legend
Argent Silvermage said:
Whoah! Leave a window open!!
Wizardru's Story Hour (updated 11/21)
- Thread starter Zad
- Start date
- Status
Whoah! Leave a window open!!
the Jester
Legend
dravot said:Tune in to today's installment of the storyhour in which Dravot incorrectly guesses as he meta-games a situation and winds up wasting everyone's time by 45 min or so.
Well, that'll learn ya!
I hope you guys post it before I leave- otherwise I won't get to read it til after Burning Man!
Argent Silvermage
First Post
Serves you right for going to Burning Man and not taking me!the Jester said:Well, that'll learn ya!
I hope you guys post it before I leave- otherwise I won't get to read it til after Burning Man!
dravot
First Post
I'd love to visit Burning Man just once, for a day or so (though that'll never happen).the Jester said:Well, that'll learn ya!
I hope you guys post it before I leave- otherwise I won't get to read it til after Burning Man!
Zad should have the storyhour posted very soon. He was waiting on WizarDru for one last piece of info, and that's now in.
Zad
First Post
A Fool’s Errand – Chapter 8
A Fool’s Errand – Chapter 8
OOC Notes:
Exp for 24th is a massive 14,575. (No typo.) 25th get 10,125. That should put most of the group at 25th.
Loot:
Ring of blinking
+5 silver falchion with energy drain, drain blood, and body feeder
scabbard of keen edges
potion of harm
mithril chain shirt (go figure)
+3 hand crossbow
2 bracers of armor +8
headband of intellect +6
2 cloak of resistance +5
2 ring of protection +5
2 amulet of natural armor +5
wand of lightning bolt (8th level caster)
+2 studded leather
This Week’s Adventure:
Gulthias knew we were here, and that Valanthe was in the room, but they were no more ready to battle us than we were to fight them. Gulthias was flanked by a female drow spellcaster and a male, while three others were in defensive positions in the room, in a frenzy kicking over pews to brace for our arrival.
Protective spells went up and then Dravot threw the doors open wide. “The day of reckoning has finally come Gulthias,” he said in a booming voice.
Gulthias said nothing. I think he knew it to be true. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He traced a symbol in the air and threw it towards Dravot, but it simply broke apart into light as it touched him.
Scorch claimed to have “an idea.” These words, while frightening from Bolo, elicited something more akin to curiosity when used by Scorch. Moments later, the back half of the room was filled with writhing black tentacles that managed to snare several of the drow. Gulthias attempted to return fire with his own spell, but whatever it was, Bolo counterspelled it before it could take shape.
The female drow threw a blackened fireball into the hallway, but it didn’t have nearly the impact she was hoping for. After the fire subsided, two of the drow… stretched into the hallway behind us. It was as if they occupied all the space between the two points, then collapsed into their new location. These two were intended to engage us at close range and disrupt our spellcasters but never really got the chance. Bolo and Scorch looked at each other and Scorch shrugged. After a flash of arcane energy, one of them was sent to the maze by Scorch while the other had been turned into a kitten by Bolo.
A very indignant-looking kitten.
Gulthias’ allies were going to go down first. I released a volley into the female drow. She was gravely wounded but still fighting. She touched the altar, and her wounds healed over. Aethramyr was walking – no striding almost methodically into the room. He cut through the first drow in his path without breaking step even as arrows were flying by. He stepped up to Gulthias but waited, Shatterspike resting patiently in his grip.
Scorch reached out with mental force and grabbed the female drow, and she spat at him. Scorch practically scoffed at her defiance. My next set of arrows tore through her body, and she went limp in Scorch’s mental grip. Then there was a movement off to the right and Shadowcut was sticking out of the chest of a drow, his hand crossbow falling out of his limp grip.
There was a pop as the absent drow returned from his prison. So Bolo turned him into a puppy.
Gulthias stood alone.
“It’s been a long time coming,” Aethramyr said. “I bet you didn’t think it would end like this though – without your precious heart.”
“Well,” I observed, “it’s only been about three years since we burned your tree to ash. But even to me, it seems like a long time.”
“If I had known what would come from that day, I would have destroyed you that day myself. You couldn’t have stopped me,” Gulthias screamed. He was defiant and maddened but he was also slowly trying to back away while Aethramyr matched each step.
“And now, you come to this,” came Valanthe’s voice from the shadows behind him. “Alone. In this place. Just you and us.”
“I should have destroyed you all in the Spire,” the vampire sneered.
“You tried,” Scorch said dismissively. “You made us what we are, in some ways.”
Gulthias was backed up against the altar, nowhere left to go. Aethramyr stood before him, unassailable. I stared at the vampire, full of hatred and contempt and even some pity. Valanthe was behind him and Scorch was leaning on an overturned pew. (Bolo amused himself with the puppy while we exacted our long-coming revenge.) We were all relaxed but at the same time, ready to strike in an instant.
“The Spire. The plant horrors. You have so much to answer for. Oblivion will be too easy a punishment for you,” I said sadly.
“You knew it would come to this,” Valanthe whispered. “Even as you made your stand here, you knew this would be your end.”
Gulthias’ silence spoke volumes.
“Did you turn to your master?” I waved my hand at the ceiling. “Did you expect him to save you? Did he abandon you to your fate with us? Or did he seek to test you?” Gulthias’ eyes narrowed and I continued “Or perhaps…use you to test us? Nothing but another pawn after all this, dread vampire?”
Gulthias couldn’t hide the truth on his face. He knew it too well – after all this, he was just a pawn put in our path. “So end it then. Strike me down if you have longed for it so,” Gulthias said. I wasn’t sure if he had given up, or if he was still looking for an escape.
“No. Your fate will not be met with blade or arrow or spell,” Aethramyr said quietly, and stepped aside, where Dravot stood behind him.
Gulthias tried to hide the fear. He failed.
“Your end comes at Pelor’s hands, blood-drinker.” Dravot held his holy symbol lightly in one hand. “My faith has been forged and tempered for moments such as this. For you.”
Gulthias swallowed hard, then sneered. He sprang from the altar and lunged at Dravot’s throat. The world seemed to slow as Dravot gently brought up the icon of Pelor and a soft glow suffused him. Gulthias leapt towards the sun itself, and his being was burned away in streaks of light and ash. It took but an instant, but was years in the making. His sword fell to the ground at Dravot’s feet in a pile of ash and smoke.
Unknown to me, several planes away, in a small town in Keoland a humble former paladin and a sorceress collapsed. Hours later, they would wake up, free for the first time in three years.
*************************
Dravot examined the altar carefully; after the last one, we were not inclined to treat this one too casually. “But how many artifact-caliber altars could there be in this place?” I asked, only half joking.
As he looked at it, small bits of lightning traced their way over runes and etchings on the altar’s surface. Then as Dravot studied them, several charges came together in the middle to form a ball. The ball glowed softly and an image formed within. It showed demons on the march. A pit fiend lead this group, and it stopped to speak to a smaller creature in a cloak. Without understanding the language, the pit fiend was clearly scared of the smaller beast. It had a mask of glass but horns protruded from the hood of the cloak. It spoke and the pit fiend nearly jumped to obey. As the creature turned, four insect arms were visible under the cloak. It was one of the Khrel Hr’dad – one of the three yugoloths we’d heard so much about.
As it turned, Dravot recognized a certain tower in the background – it was in Kalstrand. On the Prime.
We didn’t have time to give this information more than a passing thought. The altar was still wicked and would be destroyed. Rather than over-engineer the problem, Dravot simply nullified all magic in the area around the altar and Aethramyr used a simple hammer and chisel to break the altar into pieces.
Nobody was surprised by the stairs underneath.
But before we descended, a voice spoke. It had an old quality, and a haunting echo. It strained as if it were struggling to remember how to speak. And it was cold.
What do you want?
We turned and saw an image of a large floating skull with gems for eyes.
You have done something that has not been done in many generations. You have forced me to turn my attention here.
Dravot put it simply. “We seek the theerpart.”
Why? What is it you hope to accomplish? The voice almost sounded distracted or struggling to even remember.
“There is a threat to the Prime. The theerpart will help us protect it.”
I see… You wish to take the theerpart then? Nothing else? Your hatred for the unliving is well known, Dravot de Chandanac.
“There are other issues here,” Scorch said.
You are known to us as well, Slerotin.
Scorch harrumphed. “My name is Scorch.”
As you wish it said dismissively.
Am I to believe you expect to leave this place without challenging me?
“To be honest,” Dravot said, “I want to challenge you. But the need is urgent enough that if we had the part, we would simply leave.”
Perhaps then we could come to an arrangement. You could reforge True Death, and I could provide you with the theerpart.
“That’d be like giving the Sword of Kas back to Vecna,” Scorch quipped.
Vecna was foolish… and the voice trailed off, perhaps deciding we were too small to understand the nuances.
Our outlooks are different but the Prime is still our home. I have little love for the cleric, but there are other goals I am more interested in serving. To have penetrated my tomb this far shows you are clearly capable of protecting the theerpart. While I despise you cleric, I believe you would be capable of resisting its taint for a time.
We barely discussed it. Was Acererack evil? Surely. But he was so immensely powerful, immensely intelligent that in some ways he transcends notions of good and evil as we understand them. His mind roams the planes – he does not trouble himself with the petty concerns of mortals. He is likely beyond our understanding (although I suppose Scorch could conceivably understand him some day.) But more practically, there was nothing to be gained by fighting him and far too much to lose.
“We accept your terms.”
Travel down the stairs to the Forge of Pain. There you will find what you need. The skull disappeared.
The forge was adequate if not spectacular. There was a fire elemental bound to it but it was otherwise quite unremarkable. Some tools bore the ShadowTaker’s mark, but everything was coated with dust that could span centuries. But it was more than sufficient for someone of Aethramyr’s skill to re-form the blade. It would take several hours to reform the blade.
At some point when I wasn’t looking, Dravot and Scorch began conversing further with Acererack. Or at least a part of him – Scorch claimed this was merely a fragment of his intellect turned to us. Acererack informed us that time had moved faster here, and events in the Prime were in motion. (But he said it in a way that showed he barely noticed or cared.) He was showing images on the walls at their request but the images were perhaps a week old. The Khrel Hr’dad were indeed on the move. Judges surrounded Brindinford. The Silverring was apparently out of commission again. And the Dragons were in a council with many others, including, of all people, Chavram.
Things move forward. I am willing to release the theerpart to you because the Lords of Air are dead or dying, and this makes me believe you are at least their equal.
“I wonder,” mused Bolo “what will happen with the reds now that the Heart is destroyed.” He wasn’t asking but the lich answered anyway.
Ashardalon may grow bold. Infernus may have to flee.
And then it hit me. A question that had been bothering me for some time, and here was someone who would know the answer. “And what of the Bargain? What is it exactly?”
The Bargain is an exchange of power. You wish to know how the Khrel Hr’dad managed to survive? The Bargain is the answer. The yugoloths created the Bargain and act as its bondsmen. But the loan has defaulted, as was their original plan I’m sure.
“And they get to keep the balance of the souls?”
Indeed. Power given and power returned and they get to keep the profits for their own ends. The souls of those taken from the Prime allow them to remain here. They use them as costumes.
Then I noticed the banging had stopped. Aethramyr said nonchalantly “The sword is done.”
The sword flew from his hand, and began to shake and hovered in the air. A deep bass voice cried out. “I RETURN. I BANE HAVE RETURNED. ALSO KNOWN AS TRUE DEATH!”
It was a very loud sword. And quite evil apparently. But mostly loud.
“I HAVE BEEN…” it started saying, then a ghostly hand appeared and grasped the hilt, and the voice was immediately muffled. Then the entire thing disappeared with a pop.
Thank you for returning my phylactery to me. As promised, your trinket of evil.
The oddly quasi-geometric shifting form of theerpart appeared. Of course that left the question of how to move it. Scorch’s studies indicated it could be contained to a degree, and that with the leftover vitaesis in the forge that we could construct a small ark to hold it. It would be safer, if not safe. It took only a few hours and we were ready.
The stairs glowed, and we ascended more stairs than we had to come to the forge. We emerged in the entry cave where it had began, the crazed monk still writing on the wall in blood as if we had never disturbed him. We exited the cave into the open sky of the swamp.
Far overhead I saw a flight of judges moving swiftly. I fired an arrow in their general area to try to draw their attention. One of them saw it and broke off and landed before us.
I curtsied quickly. “Greetings Judge. I am sorry to distract you. We have just returned from off-plane. The Khrel Hr’dad are on the march?”
“Yes,” it answered, clearly trading messages with others of its kind mentally.
“Do you know where they are?”
“No. We cannot see them.” Then it paused, listening. “Zinkman has summoned another crab.”
“Zinkman?? Has he gone man then?” I asked.
“There are two Zinkman’s right now. One is in the form of the one you call the Silverring. That one is sane. He is in the Lendores. The other one has begun altering the Prime to his desires. We have rooted out the demon in your midst – the female kobold was a demon. An eyrnie you call them?”
I sighed deeply. “There is clearly much to do. I thank you for your time. I will not keep you further. Please contact us if there is something we can do beyond what we will likely be doing anyway.”
He flew away. I wasn’t entirely sure that the host had quite registered the fact that we had returned yet, but they would in time.
I contacted Lord Gelban. His reply was swift but short. “This is not secure. Contact me another way.”
Scorch pulled out the crystal ball, but most of the figures we attempted to scry could not be found. Scorch on a hunch (or a whim) turned to Dirgah, one of his guild affiliates. Dirgah was visible, in an empty clearing. But it seemed he was talking to someone. We issued a sending and he confirmed that everyone was there.
We teleported to the scene to see what “everyone” meant. It included the notable dragons – Lord Gelban, the Platinar, the Cupric, the Brazen, Hammer, Tongs, even Paravandr. There was also Chavram and Kalten, The Owl, and many others I didn’t recognize.
As we arrived in the clearing, Lord Gelban was speaking.
“It is agreed then. The Silverring must die.”
A Fool’s Errand – Chapter 8
OOC Notes:
Exp for 24th is a massive 14,575. (No typo.) 25th get 10,125. That should put most of the group at 25th.
Loot:
Ring of blinking
+5 silver falchion with energy drain, drain blood, and body feeder
scabbard of keen edges
potion of harm
mithril chain shirt (go figure)
+3 hand crossbow
2 bracers of armor +8
headband of intellect +6
2 cloak of resistance +5
2 ring of protection +5
2 amulet of natural armor +5
wand of lightning bolt (8th level caster)
+2 studded leather
This Week’s Adventure:
Gulthias knew we were here, and that Valanthe was in the room, but they were no more ready to battle us than we were to fight them. Gulthias was flanked by a female drow spellcaster and a male, while three others were in defensive positions in the room, in a frenzy kicking over pews to brace for our arrival.
Protective spells went up and then Dravot threw the doors open wide. “The day of reckoning has finally come Gulthias,” he said in a booming voice.
Gulthias said nothing. I think he knew it to be true. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He traced a symbol in the air and threw it towards Dravot, but it simply broke apart into light as it touched him.
Scorch claimed to have “an idea.” These words, while frightening from Bolo, elicited something more akin to curiosity when used by Scorch. Moments later, the back half of the room was filled with writhing black tentacles that managed to snare several of the drow. Gulthias attempted to return fire with his own spell, but whatever it was, Bolo counterspelled it before it could take shape.
The female drow threw a blackened fireball into the hallway, but it didn’t have nearly the impact she was hoping for. After the fire subsided, two of the drow… stretched into the hallway behind us. It was as if they occupied all the space between the two points, then collapsed into their new location. These two were intended to engage us at close range and disrupt our spellcasters but never really got the chance. Bolo and Scorch looked at each other and Scorch shrugged. After a flash of arcane energy, one of them was sent to the maze by Scorch while the other had been turned into a kitten by Bolo.
A very indignant-looking kitten.
Gulthias’ allies were going to go down first. I released a volley into the female drow. She was gravely wounded but still fighting. She touched the altar, and her wounds healed over. Aethramyr was walking – no striding almost methodically into the room. He cut through the first drow in his path without breaking step even as arrows were flying by. He stepped up to Gulthias but waited, Shatterspike resting patiently in his grip.
Scorch reached out with mental force and grabbed the female drow, and she spat at him. Scorch practically scoffed at her defiance. My next set of arrows tore through her body, and she went limp in Scorch’s mental grip. Then there was a movement off to the right and Shadowcut was sticking out of the chest of a drow, his hand crossbow falling out of his limp grip.
There was a pop as the absent drow returned from his prison. So Bolo turned him into a puppy.
Gulthias stood alone.
“It’s been a long time coming,” Aethramyr said. “I bet you didn’t think it would end like this though – without your precious heart.”
“Well,” I observed, “it’s only been about three years since we burned your tree to ash. But even to me, it seems like a long time.”
“If I had known what would come from that day, I would have destroyed you that day myself. You couldn’t have stopped me,” Gulthias screamed. He was defiant and maddened but he was also slowly trying to back away while Aethramyr matched each step.
“And now, you come to this,” came Valanthe’s voice from the shadows behind him. “Alone. In this place. Just you and us.”
“I should have destroyed you all in the Spire,” the vampire sneered.
“You tried,” Scorch said dismissively. “You made us what we are, in some ways.”
Gulthias was backed up against the altar, nowhere left to go. Aethramyr stood before him, unassailable. I stared at the vampire, full of hatred and contempt and even some pity. Valanthe was behind him and Scorch was leaning on an overturned pew. (Bolo amused himself with the puppy while we exacted our long-coming revenge.) We were all relaxed but at the same time, ready to strike in an instant.
“The Spire. The plant horrors. You have so much to answer for. Oblivion will be too easy a punishment for you,” I said sadly.
“You knew it would come to this,” Valanthe whispered. “Even as you made your stand here, you knew this would be your end.”
Gulthias’ silence spoke volumes.
“Did you turn to your master?” I waved my hand at the ceiling. “Did you expect him to save you? Did he abandon you to your fate with us? Or did he seek to test you?” Gulthias’ eyes narrowed and I continued “Or perhaps…use you to test us? Nothing but another pawn after all this, dread vampire?”
Gulthias couldn’t hide the truth on his face. He knew it too well – after all this, he was just a pawn put in our path. “So end it then. Strike me down if you have longed for it so,” Gulthias said. I wasn’t sure if he had given up, or if he was still looking for an escape.
“No. Your fate will not be met with blade or arrow or spell,” Aethramyr said quietly, and stepped aside, where Dravot stood behind him.
Gulthias tried to hide the fear. He failed.
“Your end comes at Pelor’s hands, blood-drinker.” Dravot held his holy symbol lightly in one hand. “My faith has been forged and tempered for moments such as this. For you.”
Gulthias swallowed hard, then sneered. He sprang from the altar and lunged at Dravot’s throat. The world seemed to slow as Dravot gently brought up the icon of Pelor and a soft glow suffused him. Gulthias leapt towards the sun itself, and his being was burned away in streaks of light and ash. It took but an instant, but was years in the making. His sword fell to the ground at Dravot’s feet in a pile of ash and smoke.
Unknown to me, several planes away, in a small town in Keoland a humble former paladin and a sorceress collapsed. Hours later, they would wake up, free for the first time in three years.
*************************
Dravot examined the altar carefully; after the last one, we were not inclined to treat this one too casually. “But how many artifact-caliber altars could there be in this place?” I asked, only half joking.
As he looked at it, small bits of lightning traced their way over runes and etchings on the altar’s surface. Then as Dravot studied them, several charges came together in the middle to form a ball. The ball glowed softly and an image formed within. It showed demons on the march. A pit fiend lead this group, and it stopped to speak to a smaller creature in a cloak. Without understanding the language, the pit fiend was clearly scared of the smaller beast. It had a mask of glass but horns protruded from the hood of the cloak. It spoke and the pit fiend nearly jumped to obey. As the creature turned, four insect arms were visible under the cloak. It was one of the Khrel Hr’dad – one of the three yugoloths we’d heard so much about.
As it turned, Dravot recognized a certain tower in the background – it was in Kalstrand. On the Prime.
We didn’t have time to give this information more than a passing thought. The altar was still wicked and would be destroyed. Rather than over-engineer the problem, Dravot simply nullified all magic in the area around the altar and Aethramyr used a simple hammer and chisel to break the altar into pieces.
Nobody was surprised by the stairs underneath.
But before we descended, a voice spoke. It had an old quality, and a haunting echo. It strained as if it were struggling to remember how to speak. And it was cold.
What do you want?
We turned and saw an image of a large floating skull with gems for eyes.
You have done something that has not been done in many generations. You have forced me to turn my attention here.
Dravot put it simply. “We seek the theerpart.”
Why? What is it you hope to accomplish? The voice almost sounded distracted or struggling to even remember.
“There is a threat to the Prime. The theerpart will help us protect it.”
I see… You wish to take the theerpart then? Nothing else? Your hatred for the unliving is well known, Dravot de Chandanac.
“There are other issues here,” Scorch said.
You are known to us as well, Slerotin.
Scorch harrumphed. “My name is Scorch.”
As you wish it said dismissively.
Am I to believe you expect to leave this place without challenging me?
“To be honest,” Dravot said, “I want to challenge you. But the need is urgent enough that if we had the part, we would simply leave.”
Perhaps then we could come to an arrangement. You could reforge True Death, and I could provide you with the theerpart.
“That’d be like giving the Sword of Kas back to Vecna,” Scorch quipped.
Vecna was foolish… and the voice trailed off, perhaps deciding we were too small to understand the nuances.
Our outlooks are different but the Prime is still our home. I have little love for the cleric, but there are other goals I am more interested in serving. To have penetrated my tomb this far shows you are clearly capable of protecting the theerpart. While I despise you cleric, I believe you would be capable of resisting its taint for a time.
We barely discussed it. Was Acererack evil? Surely. But he was so immensely powerful, immensely intelligent that in some ways he transcends notions of good and evil as we understand them. His mind roams the planes – he does not trouble himself with the petty concerns of mortals. He is likely beyond our understanding (although I suppose Scorch could conceivably understand him some day.) But more practically, there was nothing to be gained by fighting him and far too much to lose.
“We accept your terms.”
Travel down the stairs to the Forge of Pain. There you will find what you need. The skull disappeared.
The forge was adequate if not spectacular. There was a fire elemental bound to it but it was otherwise quite unremarkable. Some tools bore the ShadowTaker’s mark, but everything was coated with dust that could span centuries. But it was more than sufficient for someone of Aethramyr’s skill to re-form the blade. It would take several hours to reform the blade.
At some point when I wasn’t looking, Dravot and Scorch began conversing further with Acererack. Or at least a part of him – Scorch claimed this was merely a fragment of his intellect turned to us. Acererack informed us that time had moved faster here, and events in the Prime were in motion. (But he said it in a way that showed he barely noticed or cared.) He was showing images on the walls at their request but the images were perhaps a week old. The Khrel Hr’dad were indeed on the move. Judges surrounded Brindinford. The Silverring was apparently out of commission again. And the Dragons were in a council with many others, including, of all people, Chavram.
Things move forward. I am willing to release the theerpart to you because the Lords of Air are dead or dying, and this makes me believe you are at least their equal.
“I wonder,” mused Bolo “what will happen with the reds now that the Heart is destroyed.” He wasn’t asking but the lich answered anyway.
Ashardalon may grow bold. Infernus may have to flee.
And then it hit me. A question that had been bothering me for some time, and here was someone who would know the answer. “And what of the Bargain? What is it exactly?”
The Bargain is an exchange of power. You wish to know how the Khrel Hr’dad managed to survive? The Bargain is the answer. The yugoloths created the Bargain and act as its bondsmen. But the loan has defaulted, as was their original plan I’m sure.
“And they get to keep the balance of the souls?”
Indeed. Power given and power returned and they get to keep the profits for their own ends. The souls of those taken from the Prime allow them to remain here. They use them as costumes.
Then I noticed the banging had stopped. Aethramyr said nonchalantly “The sword is done.”
The sword flew from his hand, and began to shake and hovered in the air. A deep bass voice cried out. “I RETURN. I BANE HAVE RETURNED. ALSO KNOWN AS TRUE DEATH!”
It was a very loud sword. And quite evil apparently. But mostly loud.
“I HAVE BEEN…” it started saying, then a ghostly hand appeared and grasped the hilt, and the voice was immediately muffled. Then the entire thing disappeared with a pop.
Thank you for returning my phylactery to me. As promised, your trinket of evil.
The oddly quasi-geometric shifting form of theerpart appeared. Of course that left the question of how to move it. Scorch’s studies indicated it could be contained to a degree, and that with the leftover vitaesis in the forge that we could construct a small ark to hold it. It would be safer, if not safe. It took only a few hours and we were ready.
The stairs glowed, and we ascended more stairs than we had to come to the forge. We emerged in the entry cave where it had began, the crazed monk still writing on the wall in blood as if we had never disturbed him. We exited the cave into the open sky of the swamp.
Far overhead I saw a flight of judges moving swiftly. I fired an arrow in their general area to try to draw their attention. One of them saw it and broke off and landed before us.
I curtsied quickly. “Greetings Judge. I am sorry to distract you. We have just returned from off-plane. The Khrel Hr’dad are on the march?”
“Yes,” it answered, clearly trading messages with others of its kind mentally.
“Do you know where they are?”
“No. We cannot see them.” Then it paused, listening. “Zinkman has summoned another crab.”
“Zinkman?? Has he gone man then?” I asked.
“There are two Zinkman’s right now. One is in the form of the one you call the Silverring. That one is sane. He is in the Lendores. The other one has begun altering the Prime to his desires. We have rooted out the demon in your midst – the female kobold was a demon. An eyrnie you call them?”
I sighed deeply. “There is clearly much to do. I thank you for your time. I will not keep you further. Please contact us if there is something we can do beyond what we will likely be doing anyway.”
He flew away. I wasn’t entirely sure that the host had quite registered the fact that we had returned yet, but they would in time.
I contacted Lord Gelban. His reply was swift but short. “This is not secure. Contact me another way.”
Scorch pulled out the crystal ball, but most of the figures we attempted to scry could not be found. Scorch on a hunch (or a whim) turned to Dirgah, one of his guild affiliates. Dirgah was visible, in an empty clearing. But it seemed he was talking to someone. We issued a sending and he confirmed that everyone was there.
We teleported to the scene to see what “everyone” meant. It included the notable dragons – Lord Gelban, the Platinar, the Cupric, the Brazen, Hammer, Tongs, even Paravandr. There was also Chavram and Kalten, The Owl, and many others I didn’t recognize.
As we arrived in the clearing, Lord Gelban was speaking.
“It is agreed then. The Silverring must die.”
Zad
First Post
Now that really sounds like a great final scene with Gulthias doesn’t it?
Too bad it didn’t happen anything like that.
It’s all a dirty lie. Here’s what really happened:
The drow were eliminated or turned into various small fuzzy animals. Aethramyr had taken a smack at Gulthias but we were really just about to get revved up and beat him senseless. Dravot had not even tried to turn him, convinced he’d be too powerful for that.
We all teased him. “Go on. Try it. Whatcha scared of? Ya big sissy! Turn him. I dare you!” And so on.
Finally he said “Fine.”
Wizardru: “Roll your turn check.”
Dravot: <roll roll> “Ok maximum of 32 hit dice.”
Wizardru: “Ok he’s destroyed.”
Dravot: “Nuh uh. You’re lying.”
Wizardru: “Nope. He’s dust.”
Dravot: “Yeah sure right. Who’s next to act?”
Wizardru: “Combat’s over. He’s gone.”
Dravot (as realization sinks in he could have done this to start): …
It was amusing. But you’ll forgive me if I say I like my way better.
Also omitted: Acererack said something different upon the reforging of True Death.
Thank you for returning my phylactery to me. As promised your trinket of evil. Do not lick it. Your tongue will stick.
Too bad it didn’t happen anything like that.
It’s all a dirty lie. Here’s what really happened:
The drow were eliminated or turned into various small fuzzy animals. Aethramyr had taken a smack at Gulthias but we were really just about to get revved up and beat him senseless. Dravot had not even tried to turn him, convinced he’d be too powerful for that.
We all teased him. “Go on. Try it. Whatcha scared of? Ya big sissy! Turn him. I dare you!” And so on.
Finally he said “Fine.”
Wizardru: “Roll your turn check.”
Dravot: <roll roll> “Ok maximum of 32 hit dice.”
Wizardru: “Ok he’s destroyed.”
Dravot: “Nuh uh. You’re lying.”
Wizardru: “Nope. He’s dust.”
Dravot: “Yeah sure right. Who’s next to act?”
Wizardru: “Combat’s over. He’s gone.”
Dravot (as realization sinks in he could have done this to start): …
It was amusing. But you’ll forgive me if I say I like my way better.
Also omitted: Acererack said something different upon the reforging of True Death.
Thank you for returning my phylactery to me. As promised your trinket of evil. Do not lick it. Your tongue will stick.
Argent Silvermage
First Post
Ping!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bolo's finally 25th level.
I was so happy to be able to use one of my favorite spells and get it to work. Baleful Polymorph is so much fun.
There is now a Kitten and a Puppy who remember being Drow Hexblades. Bolo's such a mind f*cker.
Bolo's finally 25th level.
I was so happy to be able to use one of my favorite spells and get it to work. Baleful Polymorph is so much fun.
There is now a Kitten and a Puppy who remember being Drow Hexblades. Bolo's such a mind f*cker.
WizarDru
Adventurer
Some quick points of detail:
Neo-Gulthias had been transformed into a templated 20th-level Hexblade. It didn't work out that well for him.
The drow were not actually drow, but actually Hihoca (for those who follow the idea thread). That didn't work out that well for them, either. Smart tactics (combined with a lack of preparation on the bad guys part) meant they sucked it down, hard. Scorch's Black Tentacles messed up the battlefield for them, and the group was too spread out for most spells to have much effect.
Aethramy suffered from Gulthias' Dire Hex Curse, giving him an effective -6 to every d20 roll. Nasty stuff, but it didn't save him. Acererak would not have been a good fight to engage in...and it was a debated topic. Acererak's earthly form is CR33. It is entirely likely that one or several party members would not have survived and had their souls destroyed forever while the remaining party members grabbed the theorpart and fled...which is like grabbing a red-hot coal of evil.
Kayleigh noted with some amusement that, as far as they could tell, Acererak joined the extremely short list of people who have not lied to the party. Make of that what you will.
Neo-Gulthias had been transformed into a templated 20th-level Hexblade. It didn't work out that well for him.
The drow were not actually drow, but actually Hihoca (for those who follow the idea thread). That didn't work out that well for them, either. Smart tactics (combined with a lack of preparation on the bad guys part) meant they sucked it down, hard. Scorch's Black Tentacles messed up the battlefield for them, and the group was too spread out for most spells to have much effect.Aethramy suffered from Gulthias' Dire Hex Curse, giving him an effective -6 to every d20 roll. Nasty stuff, but it didn't save him. Acererak would not have been a good fight to engage in...and it was a debated topic. Acererak's earthly form is CR33. It is entirely likely that one or several party members would not have survived and had their souls destroyed forever while the remaining party members grabbed the theorpart and fled...which is like grabbing a red-hot coal of evil.
Kayleigh noted with some amusement that, as far as they could tell, Acererak joined the extremely short list of people who have not lied to the party. Make of that what you will.
Zad
First Post
Indeed there was no discernable lie and I was left with the impression he really had no reason to lie to us. He truly was transcendant - the concepts of good, evil, and so on were of little relevance to him. Put another way, he was easily the lesser or perhaps least of many evils to choose from.
Evil? Well, yeah. But is he really doing anything evil that has an impact on us or those we care about? Erm... well no. So let's pull up to the drive-thru and make our order.
"I'd like one Theerpart, onion rings, and a large orange drink."
That'll be one True Death. Please pull around.
Evil? Well, yeah. But is he really doing anything evil that has an impact on us or those we care about? Erm... well no. So let's pull up to the drive-thru and make our order.
"I'd like one Theerpart, onion rings, and a large orange drink."
That'll be one True Death. Please pull around.
- Status
