Curse of the Crimson Throne: Seven Days to the Grave [IC-Interactive]

[lostsole31]

So, here is where the RP magic lives. Now, obviously anything which is time-sensitive or needs to be discussed IC lives there because it is absolutely intrinsic to the forward motion of the plot itself. Here is where the characters (not the players) chat to each other about ... whatever. Side comments in the middle of things still are IC. NPCs are also people that might chat to one, many, or all of you; but the last is likely only when doing general discussion, not setting up the plot.

Now, considering Delta's dealing with all manner of terrible creatures, or even good creatures that to a mortal's eyes seem terrifying - rat's a rat, celestial or not - and then a handful of spirits he has bound to him. These are lost souls. Well, I imagine he's pretty used to that ... but this one was particularly terrifying. That said, it might be something to mention IC or he might keep it to himself. Also, if you are feeling story-rific, meemaas, you can even use this space to let the DM in on multi-PC confabs for your many guys.

This thread won't use my Interactive quite as much as normal, simply because among seven main characters, there are only two players, five of whom are controlled by one player, and another not-quite-cohort/servant of gratitude NPC. Now, here is the formula so Wall-of-Text doesn't appear here, and they are always in Spoilers.
Yup, it's really that simple.
So, as an example, Delta wants to say something to Paxre, and this thread is used because it might not have anything to do with the real plot (but still might become important later). It is also to denote retcons (within reason). So, let's say meemaas' character Delta wants to ask Paxre something. In a post, meemaas woud write this.
"Paxre, there is a strange effect that occurs when I am near you, and doubled ... tripled in intensity once the link was established," said Delta. "I will admit that it is dark and discomfiting."
Then, PSinger might respond in a post:
"Is there question in there somewhere?" Paxre asked with no sense of sarcasm at all, which is quite against what one would expect for irony, and likely confused as insult by most, anyway.
Of course, since specific persons are talking to another (in a one-on-one), narration isn't even necessary and you can just "talk in character" with the proper color.

[lostsole31]

As the Epsilon Elite head towards the Grand Vault of Abadar, Delta continues to feel that dark, cold, terrifying miasma of the psyche coming from Paxre. He hears the burbling, squelching, disgusting and disharmonious sounds of children.


tseuqer hcID'ahc DavHahc je'
bem gnuhg 'yot Hahg
Im gniyrf SI vHatSaq 'Iwtuv Hahg jav
Dol llaT HoH Dol remraf

[Sorry, buddy, the frequency are based on Will saves and you have been sucking on them ... and binding checks. The idea was for a slow build for the voices. Perhaps you are more of a receptor than even the DM had expected.]

You get the same chill and the hackles on your neck raise. This time, there is a visual. You are in a forest, and the sun hurts your eyes while you hear the above, followed by the stanza you heard before.

[meemaas]

"I'm hearing strange voices from your head, that seem to have amplified themselves when we linked into the collective. Do you have any idea what on earth that would possibly be?"

So, what can you tell us about Blackjack? And why do you think you got framed in the first place?"

In response to her own questions to them, Omega answers, leaving the other two to add in tidbits where they can. "We choose to help because we believe you are innocent. Not just because of the circumstances, but also because of Blackjack, the hero of the city. Some reward money is not worth sending an innocent to the guillotine. The only reason Delta insisted on payment is because of a unique compulsion that occasionally forces him to demand payment in unreasonable manner."

[lostsole31]

This collective bit can get a little sticky. Do you ask Paxre this using tongue and teeth and vocal chords and stuff? or, with crazy mind stuff?
"Blackjack is thought to be an urban legend; at least, up until recently. The first mention of a Blackjack was something like 200 years ago or the like. Not quite as a vigilante, but more of a well-intentioned scofflaw that helps out. People report seeing him here or there, but just as often as they think they see Queen Domina roaming around. The thing is, this was the first public and now recorded sighting of Blackjack in over 40 years. Lots of rumors and conjectures exist. A 'hereditary' position which is passed down from a master to a student; a particularly long-lived half-elf or maybe even an elf; or, it could even be someone who only recently took up the mantle of a hero that hadn't been heard in nearly a half-century.

"I was the late King Eodred II's portrait painter in his last days, not that I had any idea they would be his last days. He was more cloistered than usual, and was getting more and more ill over time, but surely not ill enough to suddenly die. Since I would have the doors shut to block out distractions, I was easy to blame. The easiest explanation is that the whore-queen Ileosa, who is 17 ... a third of the age of the late king, if even that ... engineered this and framed me for it. Even if it wasn't her, I think it was for her benefit or at least her blessing. At this point, I'm just glad to be going to the ranch at Harse. Politics really is a deadly game.

"I actually have Paxre to thank, in a roundabout way. He was the only member of his group that thought catching me and sending me to my doom was wrong. He's far more agile and he did actually 'catch' me during a chase on the Shingles, but he let me go and stalled his group (most of whom weren't meant for roof-to-roof pursuit) so they couldn't get me in time. It was only my bad luck that I was spotted by a Sable Company marine and arrested. During the execution ceremony, I didn't see Paxre until Blackjack himself gave him a salute. That's when I knew that I could trust Paxre with my life. He could have intervened and at least stalled the masked swordsman until more of the guard showed.

"The guillotine, hmm? Either you are knowledgeable of the execution methods in Galt, well to the east of here, or you are a fine armchair historian. Galt's the only place I know of that uses that. Sure, lots of beheadings, but usally by axes or large swords.

"So, I am more intrigued. What is this compulsion of your friend, Delta?"

[meemaas]

I phrase anything through the collective with Italics. To represent thoughts. If its not in Italics, its spoken out loud.

Omega answers first. "It is a phrase I heard once upon a time, its been a while, so its not exactly the easiest to remember where I heard it from."

Before Omega goes to answer, Delta steps in to answer the question about himself. "It is hard to explain. I got into a weird book when i studied magic, and ever since then, it has effected me with unusual compulsions. They change from time to time, and often I have the willpower to force them back, but when I fail it makes everything I do harder and harder. It even yells at me in my head." Obviously, Delta is lying about part of that, but he has a fair Bluff check to make the lie believable.

[PSinger]

Paxre is timid in answering. "You - you mean that Gamma's collar-what'sit makes you hear the voices, too? Ever since I can remember I heard the whispers from the darkness. Tempting me with great knowledge, but giving me terrible knowledge. It's maddening, for it is always at a whisper. I want to not listen, but I can't shut the whispering out all the time, and when I give in ... the fell secrets of darkness fills me."

[meemaas]

"All I hear is children singing, for lack of a better description. What do they say to you? And why am I alone the one to hear them from you?"

[PSinger]

"Soooo theyyy ... sing ... to you? ... Huh. ... Ummm, okay." Internally, Paxre is trying to figure out a way to not suddenly be rude by looking away, but he doesn't want to make eye contact with the crazy man. Instead, the little beads of his eyes look a little off, as one who is thinking about the problem at hand. He wants to warn the others, but in terror he timidly asks, "So, what do 'they' sing?"

[meemaas]

"I can't really make out what it is. You don't hear it at all?

[PSinger]

"I sure don't hear singing, that's for sure. Can you make out any words, or at least sounds? Try and concentrate the next time it happens. It's up to you, but I'd say damn the consequences and find out what's going on. Well, at least as much as possible. Don't fight next time if you think you'll get more. Or, fight more because it just might be something to claim your soul. Meh. I guess it's all on the edge of a copper pinch."

[meemaas]

"Delta, Delta ..."[/COLOR][/SIZE] seems to dreamily call a distant voice.

"Delta," says the familiar, squeaky voice this time more firmly. Delta wakes up feeling drool by his mouth and bleary-eyed. "I think I have an idea about all of ... this."

Delta comes to his senses and notes that all around him on the table in the library is all manner of childish scrawlings, though vague, of the various horrors he had seen the other night. The image in the trees, the children themselves. There is also all manner of written language in unknown, though unsettling form. The language and drawings were drawn in by both charcoal and pen on blank parchment as well as in several random books that must have been nearby.

"I think I finally have an idea about your autographia, the scribblings, and the song you've been humming in your sleep. A lot of nursery and children's rhymes actually focus on terrible events. What you have written is in Aklo, a language that I learned without learning but was whispered to me over the years from the darkness. But it's backwards. I put what you muttered and have been scrawling all day into a coherent form, and it is pretty frightening." Here, Paxre's little insect hairs have been slowly, barely perceptibly been raising, as if just discussing this is scary.

"You are being haunted by an unknown villain known simply in the nursery rhyme as the Tall Man. The rhyme, called 'Dead Children,' goes like this:


'Dead children, dead children, swinging in a tree
How many dead children do you see?
Tongue turned blue and face gone grey
Watch them as they twist and sway.

'The Tall Man killed the butcher man
Then cooked him in a frying pan
Served him to his hungry guests
And gave them seconds on request.

'The Tall Man with his smile and sweets
Stole poor children off the streets
To men who dressed unsavory
He sold them into slavery.

'Dead children, dead children, swinging in a tree
How many dead children do you see?
Six feet long and six feet wide
Around their neck their own rope is tied.'


That is when Delta notes something that was previously lost in detail. By having focused on the details of the children and the forest and their own intestines used as rope, it was too easy to overlook. But here on paper where lines and shapes are so much simpler, and in some cases the subjects themselves aren't even perceptible, Delta finally gets it ...

... the "design" of the major branches, the intestines, and the splayed children actually make up a complex design. Very much, in fact, like a sigil for binding.

"My mind is cursed. It is a conduit to a dark place far, from all that is knowable. Out there appears to be a primal terror known only as the Tall Man. With me around, he sensed you as an open mind, no doubt. Your bringing forth summoned creatures plays a part, I guess; but really it is the fact that your mind is so open for strange entities to inhabit. Entities themselves don't hunt me, merely voices. I think you will have no rest unless you force the Tall Man to appear and bend him to your will.

"My guess is that Aklo is a trigger to understanding, but your own idiomatic language - Taldan - is what you must sing since that is how you actually think. Aklo was backwards, so you probably have to sing the 'Dead Children' rhyme backwards. I don't know what you actually do with binding stuff, but I am sure that drawing that and singing the song backwards is at least a part of it. You can ignore him, and it might be worse if you fail. But if you don't do something now, how much long can you resist before you are driven mad, or worse? Possessed and made into a mass murderer?"



"You could be right. I mean, I am certain my willpower is strong enough to resist him, but at the same time, attempting to bind him would allow me to draw on some degree of his power for our cause. I shall have to try this once you have kicked your blood veil yet again." Delta smiles softly at Paxre, making sure to write down everything he felt necessary for the possibility of the binding ritual.

[lostsole31]

Beta was difficult to keep in bed for his recovery, but once he's better, he takes some time to relax and focus on himself, before taking some warm up practice to make sure he doesn't grow stale. Once sure he's ready, he starts out the door, looking for word of Paxre, annoyed that the bug-man hasn't returned yet.
From your movement around in your room, a servant will have looked in on you. Seeing you meditating she pops out without bothering you. Since Shyamal also lives in the Midlands, it's possible she zoomed to find him and brought him back; or, perhaps she went to tell him and he was already at your address.

He is having tea and a light breakfast - having just started or just sat down, you aren't sure which - and he looks at you. "Bellier, please. Take a seat. I have news."

Once seated, the servant attends to your fare as well. "The news I have is mixed. First off, Paxre did not survive after all. His body was just found outside the main wererat warren (...is that the right word? hmmm...) along the main sewer tunnel. However, Alpha did survive, no doubt a combination of his elan resilience and his passive protections as a vizier. He was found stacked with the other bodies: Daevaran, whom you knew as Delta; Glanring Surechest, whom you knew as Gamma; and my late son-in-law - Mahavira Singh - whom you knew as Omega."In death, we have a name. His name ... was Robert Paulsen."The body of the pseudodragon Muhrbala was not recovered, but in going through everyone's rooms the servant noted that all of Muhrbala's things were cleared from under Paxre's bed ... where the creature stored his 'bed' of coins. It is a safe bet that it survived the battle and retrieved its personal belongings. Unfortunately, it retrieved the fallen's belongings as well, for none of your teammates have valuables remaining in their rooms. You were spared. Only the hidden coffer Omega had for group treasury was left, bearing 250 gold coins."

"Next ... Girrigz Ripperclaws and what remained of his crew were killed by fellow Epsilon members. It seems that they were more on a 'reserve' status and had recently moved to Korvosa a few months prior for personal business entirely unrelated to being more active members of the Epsilon Elite like you and your team. I have lost my son-in-law, but my sons both are returned to me. As long as you or Alpha live here, you need not pay for upkeep. My joy in seeing you both alive exceeds the momentary anguish I felt in foolishly lashing out at you with such talk as rent. You have been as much a son to me as Allen these many years.

"I want to tell you this next part because you have the wisdom to understand; I worry that Allen might allow himself to feel way too responsible. It is possible that Girrigz 'declared war' on Korvosa earlier than plans described in materials found at his hideout. It may have been in retaliation to your team's attack. Rumors estimate that around two to three, maybe more, wererats in his band were killed by your group or as a result of your attack. The evening you returned, Girrigz let loose many swarms of rats as well as a couple of his own band to cause pure panic and chaos in the crowded, poorer sections of town - probably keeping away from Midlands, well, who cares why-maybe. It happened. Several people were killed in the attack, but the fallout in disease is where the toll will be felt. Many people fell ill to filth fever - just as you did from exposure in the sewers. Not only will that alone cause deaths and a strain on the city's healers, but affected persons may in turn be more susceptible to the 'blood veil' disease. Not my area of expertise, but Girrigz engineered a lot of death on a weakened city. The way things are going, it may be a minor bump up in casualties, but it will be one of the most dramatic things to come out of this plague by the time this epidemic has run its course. May Irori give each of us the strength of will and body to fight these trials.

"Your brother wasn't healed right away. Codenames in the group are Phi, Zeta, and Eta, as well as a Blackjack bodyguard for Phi that is not officially a member of EE himself. Zeta, an oracle or prophetess of some sort, is a surgeon and healer. Alpha was found with massive bite marks on his face. Zeta felt that putting minor, targeted healing on him for safe transport to a place for surgery would be better. Too much magical healing, it seems, would have exacerbated Alpha's facial scars. It seems that magical healing takes the 'path of least resistance' and in the absence of large areas of flesh it may heal but leave worse scars than if there were surgery. As before, not my expertise. Surgery was successful, and I looked in on him though I did not see him without bandages. I fear the scar will be greater to his self-confidence, not his face. He will need your stoicism, Bellier.

"The bodies of the rest of your team are undergoing official autopsy at the Korvosan Guard, but I am to understand it is merely a formality and that they should be released by tomorrow morning at the very latest. Daevaran's family will take care of his body; Glanring's body will be remanded to officials from Iomadae's faith; and, I have made arrangements for Mahavira's cremation in three days time."

You have no idea, not even an inkling, of the realistic effects - greater or lesser than described - would be of rat attacks on the city. You have no dealings or intel on this other team. You do know there is a former member of Epsilon Elite - be he drummed out or resigned is not known - that lives in the city. You met him twice before, though you have no real dealings with him. His codename was Kappa, but he is the chief coroner with the Korvosan Guard - a physician who spends less time healing and more time talking about how such-and-so wasn't healed in time leading to a this-cause-that death.

[lostsole31]

Kaul sighs as he goes through the information he has, annoyed that he doesn't have the full picture. After a few times going over it, he gives up, putting together his gear, he moves out to seek information from the Field Marshal herself. It's hard to believe. The Epsilon Elite were supposed to be some of the best. While he doesn't have any good feelings towards them, he knew better than to underestimate them, which makes the entire ordeal seem nearly impossible. Once face to face with her, he asks her for any more information on the events. If pressured as to why, he simply says it is because the Epsilon Elite was involved.
You get to her office and the clerk just does a double-take. "Wow. That was fast. Really fast. How did you--? Never mind. Please, go right in, sir. She's waiting for you."

An attractive, raven-haired woman dressed in red full plate is looking out her window at a semi-relaxed parade rest. As you open the door, she stays turned from you, looking out the window. She says in a somewhat lost quality, "Strange how quiet so large a city can be. Few venture the streets but need to. You are here when I sent the messenger not but two minutes, so I can guess why you came to see me. Take a seat Dr. Plat ..." and there is a pause, and you sense it is a pause and not the end of her command to indulge in a pleasantry. " ... or, should I say, former Codename Kappa of the Epsilon Elite?"

She turns around, barely looking in your general direction. (But, you better damn well be seated by now, she gave you time; having monster mods in Intimidate don't do a thing for you when you are on the defensive end of that stick.) She sits down, adjust a few stacks of paper, and then finally her movements settle and she looks on you as she becomes more official.https://s.yimg.com/fz/api/res/1.2/nG04ZdzbHlAaMifcgKg76g--/YXBwaWQ9c3JjaGRkO2g9NDQyO3E9OTU7dz00MDQ-/http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/bswupathfinder/images/2/28/Field_Marshall_Cressida_Kroft.png/revision/latest?cb=20120216130339
She points to one of the smaller stacks on her desk. "I always find it strange that a foreign mercenary with an obvious background in warfare with excellent medical knowledge should write ... under 'Current/ Former Affiliations' .... 'None.' Nobody ever leapt fully formed off of Abadar's brow, but that was my predecessor two years ago. I am only interested in the past as it relates to the present. You were a former member of a mercenary company that - minus two members who lived - met with a very bad end in the sewers beneath the city. I see the interjecting-interrogative forming on your brow - don't care. Seems that your former comrades-in-arms have little groups everywhere. Another team, separate from the ones that were killed, have actually been stationed here for several months, but as civilians ... sort of making them Epsilon Elite emeriti or something like that."

She hands you a very large roll of parchment and several smaller individual sheets. "The main one is the report filed by the leader of this group, detailing the events that led them from a personal assist on a missing persons case, to stumbling across and dealing with the Ripperclaws mess. Each sheet after is brief vital statistics and background for the two survivors of the failed first raid, and the second Epsilon team. I want you to read them thoroughly. I don't know how much knowledge you have on them, personally. When you feel you have everything properly committed to that brain of yours - a brain, I am told, much inspired - then you are to report to the al-Din house and present yourself as my liaison to their group. It seems that this group is interested in picking up where the last team left off. Not wanting to step on any jurisdictional toes, the Sharif household is interested in free and open communications with myself and this office. I stress ... myself and this office. Report everything, directly to me. No sent messages, no couriers, no other faces no matter who they might be. I don't want to be surprised by anything. I'm already dancing a three-ring circus with jurisdiction where the Queen's Physicians are concerned.

"Dr. Croydon will take over your office in the meantime. This action as a liaison is a full-time job. Consider this a matter of national security. Don't concern yourself with the details, just observe and report. Feel free to lend them a hand, of course, if you still remember how to do that sort of thing. It won't do for us to have foreign nobility dying on our watch while under our care, will it? Questions, Dr. Plat?"

[meemaas]

Beta calmly takes in all that Shyamal tells him without responding. After a moment, he finally steps up and starts to answer. "Alpha is alive. Its hard to believe, since I saw most of the deaths with my own eyes. If you hadn't seen him yourself I wouldn't believe it even now. I think my top, and possibly only priority right now is to see him."

Kaul stands up quietly, or at least as much as he can with his usual gear. "My prior affiliation with the Epsilon Elite was kept to myself because we're not on good terms. As a result, my only question is, have you shared your knowledge of my prior affiliation with this team that I am to meet? I understand that I have no right to refuse, but I wish to keep my past affiliations to myself."

[lostsole31]

Alpha looks around quietly, wordlessly, closing his eyes as the figure speaks. "It's Alpha. Why am I alive? I should be dead." With a surprising movement, Alpha pulls himself out of bed, attempting to draw his focus together, he uses the small vestiges of power he retains, causing his eyes to glow as he views the figure.
Alpha notes within the first round that his viewing area (including Anaximander) is absent of any psionic auras. He tilts his head a little quizzically and with a slight smile - not a condescending smirk but a look of genuine bemusement - he says, "Please, Crafter Phan, let me know if you sense anything. I would be remiss if I did not sense an unfamiliar aura about my own person. Why 'Alpha,' because of illiteration? I seek truth, not obfuscation. That is the greatest of the philosophical questions, isn't it? If you should be dead, then you would be dead. The Universe decreed otherwise; do you feel that you should be dead? Have you not led a moral life? Then consider this a ... well, you are an elan, so ... a third chance to do things right and to correct imbalances in your energies."

After that barrage of questions and statements, there is a dumbfounded pause, and only Alpha knows what he must have been thinking in the interim. Finally, "Lead the way. Don't want to keep your master waiting, right?"

He floats to the door, and he has his arm down in a 45-degree angle, palm raised at an angle, as if to defer you to the door."It is rare that any new intellects should visit the house of my master, and I would love to hold discourse as to why it is impossible for my master to be kept waiting, while the master of the house of my master attends upon us in the dining room. Besides, practitioners of akashic magic are rare in these parts, and I would love to interview you for scholarly work should time afford us the opportunity. Please, this way."

He still hasn't opened the door. So much for courtesy. :smallsigh: As a PC, you are not (usually) affected by Diplomacy checks. If you RP any sense of it, however, Anaximander scored a 14 on his Diplomacy.

[lostsole31]

"I ain't done with you yet, meat puppet!"

This is the voice Delta hears, unbelievably loud in his head, shocking him awake. The last thing he remembered was something Girrigz said about his doom being sealed, and then the thrust of his sword to your gut.

You are wracked with complete and utter pain all over. The physical pain carries over to your mental, but even that seems to include severed disorientation well above and beyond the disorientation you feel now. There are voices whispering, whispering, ever in the back of your mind, maddening you. You feel suffocated and claustrophic as you are on a flat, cold surface, and something like linen fully covers you here in the darkness.

[lostsole31]

Zellara appears, as before and has Eta draw her role card first. (See page 3 of the IC.) Eta pulls the Tangled Briar (Jack of Clubs). No sooner does this happen, then the card disappears back into the deck ... something Alpha and Beta didn't see the first time. "It would seem" says the ghostly Zellara, spirit of the Harrow deck, "that whatever fate the Tangled Briar was tied to, it no longer applies.

Eta would draw again, and this time she draws the same card that Delta drew ... The Survivor (5 of Hearts). Zellara states: "If good, it means rebirth through ordeal; if bad, it means tragic news or profound loss."

Zellara returns that card to the deck and shuffles the cards thoroughly and removes nine cards at random. She then places three in a vertical column, followed by another three to the right of that, and another column for the last cards. She explains the basics to all. "The first column on the last is of the past, the middle of the present, and the right of the future; the top row are things of weal, the middle is unclear, and the bottom show darker possibilities. Sometimes, however, the cards are misaligned from the dark and the light, showing some hidden weal or woe."




Lawful
Neutral
Chaotic


Good
Positive Past ... 5-2
Playing Card: 3-Hearts
Suit: Star
Card: The Midwife (NG)

Positive Present ... 2-3
Playing Card: Q-Diamonds
Suit: Key
Card: The Juggler (CG)

Positive Future ... 3-9
Playing Card: J-Spades
Suit: Shield
Card: The Waxworks (CE)



Neutral
Unclear Past ... 6-8
Playing Card: 2-Spades
Suit: Crown
Card: The Betrayal (NE)

Unclear Present ... 4-6
Playing Card: 4-Diamonds
Suit: Book
Card: The Vision (CN)

Unclear Future ... 4-4
Playing Card: 4-Clubs
Suit: Book
Card: The Inquisitor (LN)



Evil
Negative Past ... 4-2
Playing Card: 4-Hearts
Suit: Book
Card: The Wanderer (NG)

Negative Present ... 5-1
Playing Card: 9-Hearts
Suit: Star
Card: The Winged Serpent (LG)

Negative Future ... 2-4
Playing Card: 6-Clubs
Suit:Key
Card: The Locksmith (LN)




Interpretation: "You have no true matches. Everything - for good or ill - is misaligned. In your past, it seems you had a loss of values, or the inability to see what is truly valuable in a person or situation.

"In your present, I see you not seizing a moment, or doing so ill-advisedly.

"In your future, there is some hope. It seems you will benefit from an abundance of energy at a crucial moment that will change all. Unclear in the future, however, is that there is an immutable reality that you will have to face which cannot be fooled or swayed in any way. To attempt to go against this unchangeable object, person or idea is to court diaster.

"I am sorry, but while there is a glimmer of help in destiny overall, it seems that aid will have to come to you mainly through your natural gifts."

[You only get 1 Harrow point for Eta this adventure.]

[lostsole31]

For his role card, Phi pulls the Trumpet (Jack of Hearts). Zellara states: "This card is a declaration of power. This archon is an aggressive force who wades into the direst situations without hesitation in the cause of right. However, wrongly portrayed, it might suggest the motives aren't noble, bringing injury and crumbling strength. This is a card that grants all or nothing at all."

Zellara returns that card to the deck and shuffles the cards thoroughly and removes nine cards at random. She then places three in a vertical column, followed by another three to the right of that, and another column for the last cards. She explains the basics to all. "The first column on the last is of the past, the middle of the present, and the right of the future; the top row are things of weal, the middle is unclear, and the bottom show darker possibilities. Sometimes, however, the cards are misaligned from the dark and the light, showing some hidden weal or woe."




Lawful
Neutral
Chaotic


Good
Positive Past ... 2-1
Playing Card: 6-Hearts
Suit: Key
Card: The Cricket (NG)

Positive Present ... 5-4
Playing Card: 3-Spades
Suit: Star
Card: The Queen Mother (LN)

Positive Future ... 3-5
Playing Card: J-Spades
Suit: Shield
Card: The Waxworks (CE)



Neutral
Unclear Past ... 2-9
Playing Card: 6-Spades
Suit: Key
Card: The Crows (NE)

Unclear Present ... 5-7
Playing Card: 9-Clubs
Suit: Star
Card: The Eclipse (LE)

Unclear Future ... 6-4
Playing Card: 4-Clubs
Suit: Crown
Card: The Marriage (LN)



Evil
Negative Past ... 5-2
Playing Card: 3-Hearts
Suit: Star
Card: The Midwife (NG)

Negative Present ... 5-5
Playing Card: Joker (Prime)
Suit: Star
Card: The Owl (N)

Negative Future ... 3-2
Playing Card: 2-Clubs
Suit: Shield
Card: The Survivor (NG)




Interpretation: "Your past and present are all general, and there is not much there to note. However, your entire future is portentious. The Waxworks is misaligned and good for you, and as your wife, it shows you will enjoy an abundance of energy at a crucial moment. Even the what is listed as negative for your future is misaligned, and it seems that what was thought to have been lost forever will be found once more. Beware, though, for in your future there might be a ruinous joining of that which should never have been united.

"Nevertheless, fortune does shine on you moreso than your wife."

[You get 2 Harrow points for Phi this adventure.]

[lostsole31]

For his role card, Zeta pulls the Desert (Jack of Hearts). Zellara states: "The Desert is an environment so bleak that none can survive without aid. For those who find that aid, the journey across the wastes can lead to great things. But if this card is baleful, it might imply that you cannot rely on the help of others and you will assuredly be lost. The sphinx on this card can refer to a mystic or doctor bringing salvation in times of plague or illness. I think, Dušana, this card is good for you. You know you must have help to survive, and you are both mystic and healer. If I am not mistaken, you found new insight after the fight with the wererats and your druidic studies have lent you the ability to actually cure diseases. Blessed are you, seer of past and future."

Zellara returns that card to the deck and shuffles the cards thoroughly and removes nine cards at random. She then places three in a vertical column, followed by another three to the right of that, and another column for the last cards. She explains the basics to all. "The first column on the last is of the past, the middle of the present, and the right of the future; the top row are things of weal, the middle is unclear, and the bottom show darker possibilities. Sometimes, however, the cards are misaligned from the dark and the light, showing some hidden weal or woe."




Lawful
Neutral
Chaotic


Good
Positive Past ... 2-2
Playing Card: 6-Hearts
Suit: Key
Card: The Cricket (NG)

Positive Present ... 2-5
Playing Card: 3-Spades
Suit: Key
Card: The Peacock (N)

Positive Future ... 6-4
Playing Card: 4-Clubs
Suit: Crown
Card: The Marriage (LN)



Neutral
Unclear Past ... 3-5
Playing Card: 6-Spades
Suit: Shield
Card: The Teamster (N)

Unclear Present ... 2-8
Playing Card: 9-Clubs
Suit: Key
Card: The Crows (NE)

Unclear Future ... 4-8
Playing Card: 4-Clubs
Suit: Book
Card: The Idiot (NE)



Evil
Negative Past ... 3-9
Playing Card: 3-Hearts
Suit: Shield
Card: The Waxworks (CE)

Negative Present ... 4-5
Playing Card: Joker (Prime)
Suit: Book
Card: The Foreign Trader (N)

Negative Future ... 5-4
Playing Card: 2-Clubs
Suit: Star
Card: The Queen Mother (LN)




Interpretation: "You have one mind to the future, and another to the past, and somehow - in a way I do not understand - your present gives no reading. Even your future is too hazy for me. Your past is full of portents, but then again your patron is an entity of portents, is it not? It seems that your mind is quick and that you have made travels and sat by the treasure at the end. There is an external force that kept you going, no matter what, whether it was a force physical or mental, as a person who exhorted you to continue on when you had no more strength to give. No doubt that was your joining under Fathi's leadership. Like the others, the misaligned Waxworks shows that at some point you were given tremendous energy to overcome your problems.

"You lack physique, but your mental gifts alone show you some favor, and none of the cards are ill for you. Fate has blessed you as much as Fathi."

[You get 2 Harrow points for Zeta this adventure.]

[lostsole31]

For his role card, Burçin pulls The Sickness (5 of Spades). Zellara states: "The Sickness represents plague, famine, pestilence, and disease. It can also indicate a corruption of the soul or a multitude of souls. But if you manage to change this fate, the card means either great health or a chance to stop such a disaster. Well, young man, metaphysical or no, the physical sense of this card is upon us, and it seems that somehow you might have a strong part to play in all of this.

Zellara returns that card to the deck and shuffles the cards thoroughly and removes nine cards at random. She then places three in a vertical column, followed by another three to the right of that, and another column for the last cards. She explains the basics to all. "The first column on the last is of the past, the middle of the present, and the right of the future; the top row are things of weal, the middle is unclear, and the bottom show darker possibilities. Sometimes, however, the cards are misaligned from the dark and the light, showing some hidden weal or woe."




Lawful
Neutral
Chaotic


Good
Positive Past ... 4-6
Playing Card: 6-Hearts
Suit: Book
Card: The Vision (CN)

Positive Present ... 1-8
Playing Card: 3-Spades
Suit: Hammer
Card: The Beating (NE)

Positive Future ... 6-6
Playing Card: 4-Clubs
Suit: Crown
Card: The Courtesan (CN)



Neutral
Unclear Past ... 3-7
Playing Card: 6-Spades
Suit: Shield
Card: The Tangled Briar (LE)

Unclear Present ... 1-7
Playing Card: 9-Clubs
Suit: Hammer
Card: The Fiend (LE)

Unclear Future ... 3-5
Playing Card: 4-Clubs
Suit: Shield
Card: The Teamster (N)



Evil
Negative Past ... 1-9
Playing Card: 3-Hearts
Suit: Hammer
Card: The Cyclone (CE)

Negative Present ... 2-6
Playing Card: Joker (Prime)
Suit: Key
Card: The Rabbit Prince (CN)

Negative Future ... 4-4
Playing Card: 2-Clubs
Suit: Book
Card: The Inquisitor (LN)




Interpretation: "Your past is hazy. The Tangled Briar is one of ancient deeds, indicating an object or person from long ago that somehow had great influence on you. The object or person in question is one lost or murdered in some foul way. Though it favors being aligned, yet there is a sense from this ordeal that while it not only brought you pain, but perhaps gave you hope for the future. Still, with the stars as they currently are, what is an ill card seems to give you some strength.

"For the now, The Beating signifies that you are coming under attack from all sides, but it can also indicate dissolution of the mind - mentally; yet, during this assault, you may find undiscovered strength. What is unclear about the now comes from The Fiend, a swallowing of innocents. This indicates either the deaths of many in a great calamity, or salvation from the same. But it seems at this time, there is some sort of dark and intelligent creature in the area, endangering the populace. This Beating points to the blood veil, possibly; and The Fiend suggests that this danger is not natural ... but engineered.

"For your future, something or someone will give you the strength and the will to endure in a great trial, but I cannot assure you that that force is necessarily a good one. Steel yourself, work hard, and seek to better yourself; perhaps the force will be one you deserve, or if ill one you teach yourself to drive away."

"No doubt your fate is tied to your master, and yet you were allowed to draw. Most followers of a figure cannot do this for it is the leader that is fated, not his followers. And yet, fate appears to be giving you as much as your master Fathi."

[meemaas]

"I ain't done with you yet, meat puppet!"

This is the voice Delta hears, unbelievably loud in his head, shocking him awake. The last thing he remembered was something Girrigz said about his doom being sealed, and then the thrust of his sword to your gut.

You are wracked with complete and utter pain all over. The physical pain carries over to your mental, but even that seems to include severed disorientation well above and beyond the disorientation you feel now. There are voices whispering, whispering, ever in the back of your mind, maddening you. You feel suffocated and claustrophic as you are on a flat, cold surface, and something like linen fully covers you here in the darkness.


Daevan lashes out in pain, struggling to remove the material from around him, fighting to get free as his thoughts race. "Who...what....where? Where am I? What...?"

[lostsole31]

Delta finds that his initial attempts to move are restricted. He is bound to a cold, metal slab by the feel of things. The cold is quite unpleasant, though not particularly frigid, just extremely uncomfortable. You sense something bounding around your chest, and individually at your wrists and ankles. As you shake about, the linen doesn't move as you are unable to grasp it.

"You know who I am. You've seen the shadow of my face. You've heard the voices of the stilled children sing of me. You've seen them smile at you. Hear their song again:"hcaQ roS SIvHatSaq qup ‘uphgeH pup ‘uphgeH
‘a’hgelaD ‘uphgeH qup ra’
‘uDmaq vaj SIvHatSaq vet je’ ‘uDmaq vaj SIvHatSaq ‘In
Hgehlt ‘IDhge’hcal Hahc hgab gnom dnuora

yrevals jav Hahg vegn Hahc
pu’ Hap ‘e’tohg
HIn steerts HoD qup puvIv
Vuq ej nom Dol llaT

tseuqer hcID'ahc DavHahc je'
bem gnuhg 'yot Hahg
Im gniyrf SI vHatSaq 'Iwtuv Hahg jav
Dol llaT HoH Dol remraf

vaD je' Hahg ts't hgel Hahc
Daq vow je' jIq 'ehlt je' 'ehlt DuS taj
a'hgelaD 'uphgeH qup 'uphgeH
hcaQ roS SIvHatSaq, qup 'uphgeH qup 'uphgeH""Can you hear it? Can you understand it?"

[lostsole31]

For his role card, Kaul pulls The Teamster (Ace of Spades), but as with the Tangled Briar card, it disappears. Zellara states: "We have now seen this card several times. It is a card which by itself is fully balanced, though of driving external pressure. I do not doubt that this relates to your assignment to this group and your oversight by your superior. Yet, it seems that whatever challenge it represented has been overcome. Please, draw again."

This time, Kaul draws The Brass Dwarf (5-Clubs). "This card shows an azer who represents an invulnerability to a current danger. Although others might fall, he remains hale and strong. The Brass Dwarf can also mean a failure or a dark fate for one, which in turn might save all others around him from a greater danger. Hmmm, you share the same role card as Beta, the very one whose direct friendship and familiarity you rebuked. Yet, you might be faced with a choice wherein one or both of you may have to sacrifice yourself for others, maybe even each other. That is not definite, though, so do not dwell too darkly on this."

Zellara returns that card to the deck and shuffles the cards thoroughly and removes nine cards at random. She then places three in a vertical column, followed by another three to the right of that, and another column for the last cards. She explains the basics to all. "The first column on the last is of the past, the middle of the present, and the right of the future; the top row are things of weal, the middle is unclear, and the bottom show darker possibilities. Sometimes, however, the cards are misaligned from the dark and the light, showing some hidden weal or woe."




Lawful
Neutral
Chaotic


Good
Positive Past ... 1-3
Playing Card: Kng-Diamonds
Suit: Hammer
Card: The Big Sky (CG)

Positive Present ... 2-7
Playing Card: Queen-Clubs
Suit: Hammer
Card: The Avalanche (LE)

Positive Future ... 2-2
Playing Card: 6-Hearts
Suit: Crown
Card: The Cricket (NG)



Neutral
Unclear Past ... 5-2
Playing Card: 3-Hearts
Suit: Shield
Card: The Midwife (NG)

Unclear Present ... 1-9
Playing Card: King-Spades
Suit: Hammer
Card: The Cyclone (CE)

Unclear Future ... 1-5
Playing Card: Ace-Hearts
Suit: Hammer
Card: The Bear (N)



Evil
Negative Past ... 1-8
Playing Card: 7-Spades
Suit: Hammer
Card: The Beating (NE)

Negative Present ... 1-4
Playing Card: 7-Clubs
Suit: Hammer
Card: The Forge (LN)

Negative Future ... 1-6
Playing Card: 7-Diamonds
Suit: Hammer
Card: The Uprising (CN)




Interpretation: "Hmmm ... past, present, and future. All are dominated by the hammer, the symbol of strength, war, battle, and honor. And yet, there is no shield at all among your reading - the shield representing health, home, and pain. And it is at this time and in the near future you require it. I could break down everything for you, but you strike me as a man who has little patience for anything beyond what is knowable - and fate can only hinted at, but not truly known until you meet it. The only thing of any note is a muddy view of your current state as represented by The Cyclone. It is a force which tears through whatever it meets. You are dealing with a disaster that comes from the plot of intelligent beings, not the natural order. The Cyclone signifies war, arson, or other plans that destroy everything they touch. And yet, if you manage this blustery trial, there is renewal.

"As a man who devotes himself to the physical world, the metaphysical world does not grace you at all in your actual reading. Yet, you were able to pull a role card, The Teamster, as nebulous as your own reading, so you are not without help from destiny."

[You have 1 Harrow point.]

[meemaas]

Delta finds that his initial attempts to move are restricted. He is bound to a cold, metal slab by the feel of things. The cold is quite unpleasant, though not particularly frigid, just extremely uncomfortable. You sense something bounding around your chest, and individually at your wrists and ankles. As you shake about, the linen doesn't move as you are unable to grasp it.

"You know who I am. You've seen the shadow of my face. You've heard the voices of the stilled children sing of me. You've seen them smile at you. Hear their song again:"hcaQ roS SIvHatSaq qup ‘uphgeH pup ‘uphgeH
‘a’hgelaD ‘uphgeH qup ra’
‘uDmaq vaj SIvHatSaq vet je’ ‘uDmaq vaj SIvHatSaq ‘In
Hgehlt ‘IDhge’hcal Hahc hgab gnom dnuora

yrevals jav Hahg vegn Hahc
pu’ Hap ‘e’tohg
HIn steerts HoD qup puvIv
Vuq ej nom Dol llaT

tseuqer hcID'ahc DavHahc je'
bem gnuhg 'yot Hahg
Im gniyrf SI vHatSaq 'Iwtuv Hahg jav
Dol llaT HoH Dol remraf

vaD je' Hahg ts't hgel Hahc
Daq vow je' jIq 'ehlt je' 'ehlt DuS taj
a'hgelaD 'uphgeH qup 'uphgeH
hcaQ roS SIvHatSaq, qup 'uphgeH qup 'uphgeH""Can you hear it? Can you understand it?"


"The Tall man....A lost spirit haunting me for a chance to live again...."

[lostsole31]

"Life? You do not yet know the truth. But, yes, I am he of whom the rhymes speak, of whom the children sing. I am known as the Tall Man, but I have another name, and one which I shall share with you. I am Al'kra, the Operated. And when you get yourself out of this foolishness, I shall teach you how to summon more of my power into your soul."

[meemaas]

"Life? You do not yet know the truth. But, yes, I am he of whom the rhymes speak, of whom the children sing. I am known as the Tall Man, but I have another name, and one which I shall share with you. I am Al'kra, the Operated. And when you get yourself out of this foolishness, I shall teach you how to summon more of my power into your soul."

"You know what I meant. What did you do to prevent my death?" All this time spent talking was distracting him from his ordeal, but only barely, as his struggles continued to find no hold against his containment.

[lostsole31]

"Prevent your death? I prevented nothing."

[lostsole31]

Feeling powerless, and not sure what to think about the Tall Man's last bit, and with no more prodding from him, Daevan lies there - cold, thirsty, and hungry. Very hungry.

In a short while, Daevan hears the telltale sound of a deadbolt tumbler clinking via echo across what seems to be stony walls beyond his linen covering. Then, through the linens he sees the indirect glow of a lantern at a height higher than himself, but some distance off to his right ("downwards", i.e. not directly right, but looking across his lower chest since he is lying horizontally).

Daevan, do you do anything, say anything, or freeze?

[meemaas]

As time passes in a manner that Delta can't entirely comprehend, his conversation with the Tall Man having faded, he hears the noise. For whatever he is trapped in, someone has come, and he starts to struggle once more and calls out to make as much noise as he can. He fights with all his strength to catch the persons attention, for whatever death the figure might bring him would at least be better than starving to death like he was bound to do otherwise.

[lostsole31]

There's a nervous fumbling and the lantern is dropped as much as four or five inches onto a wooden table. You hear muttering as a scatter-brained voice says, "Oooh, my ... oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh. It's up, it's awake, it's alive after all."

There is a padding of feet over to you. You get poked in the arm by a fleshy finger. There's a very low murmur - not spellcasting, just crazy murmuring and you get a random word here or there that seems non sequitir.

[meemaas]

Delta yells out as loud as he can. "Let me gooooo!!!!"

[lostsole31]

Your voice is feral and squelching, utterly alien to you, as is the feel of your mouth when you call out like that. It is as if your mouth is much ... different. Wider, heavier in some way, and then you notice when you close your mouth after the yell .... you have teeth. Not just bitey teeth, but REALLY bitey teeth, as if someone shoved teeth too large into a smaller jaw that itself was too large for your face. Your jaw unhinged wide. Without even getting a chance to look at yourself, you know that you physically are no longer the same. Something has happened to you, and right now you do not know the scope of it. You do know that it does include a constant sussuration in your mind, as if you are dealing with background noise of some sort.

And the voice, it was not ... human. Shrill and hissing and bestial. Scarier than before. Gone is the mellifluous and sonorous voice from before. Now, though it has a power of its own that you might be able to modify to similar use as before but in a different way, yet the very nature of it is almost more threatening. Yet, despite the rumbling, growling effect, still the formation of words themselves were not as loud as you might have expected for yourself ... just .... intense.

The muttering instantly ceases, and you hear very quick padding away. The creature must be heavy, or the floor unsteady, for you can feel the metal table you're on shaking for a few of his steps as he heads away. Thing is, for physically heavy a step, he is actually light in the sound of it, which is very confusing. You sense him, feel him, through the table but you don't hear him. It still doesn't stop you from shrieking inhumanly at pain when something dreadfully cold touches your neck. The thick linen covering is pulled down to just below your shoulder.

He is a curious creature, and a lot smaller than you'd have thought from how heavy you were thinking he might be. Your brain's survival aspect instantly locks onto something he holds in hand-clamps - a vial of a glowing blue substance that is near your neck, no doubt the source of the unbelievable cold you felt. It is only now that you realize that you are not as high up as you would think, for this creature - some manner of debased dwarf. He is only as tall as a halfling, and maybe weighs a score more pounds, but he looks like an emaciated dwarf in form. His skin is a ghastly blue pallor, and his eyes are pure white - no definable iris, pupil, or sclera. His wild, thick, and unkempt shock of hair is pure white, and his face is a conflict of rage, confusion, absent-mindedness, and rare lucidity.

"It must not yell at us or it gets the cold again."

[meemaas]

Delta shakes his head. "No yelling. I just wanted you to find me. Who are you?"

[lostsole31]

"Tee-hee-hee!" giggles the creepy little blue ... gnome-thing. "I am The Creator, and you are my creation. Yes, he is ours. And you will be my strike against the sun-lovers."

There is a crash of noise and some high-pitched yelping and screeching from the stairs and a definite sound of battle.

[meemaas]

"Are you going to let me free? Why am I stuck here? What do you mean I'm your creation?"

[lostsole31]

"Oooh, oooh, he has so many questions, doesn't he? I'll let you free when it suits me, after I develop the control serum. I created you ... from old, odd ends and some preserved parts ... and with my brilliant alchemy have brought you to life. Oh, the stories I could tell you, yes, yes, yes, about how I found out about who you are ... good stories, fun stories--" There is a crash up the stone stairs, "--but first, I will help my helpers get rid of whatever vermin is there."

He grabs this funny-looking spear that seems to have a vial of fluid connected to it, and he races out and up the stairs.

Daevan, what do you do?

[meemaas]

Daevan starts to struggle again, wishing to get free. He combs his mind for something that might be able to help, only vaguely remembering a figure he could call to help him. Walking himself through the steps that he remembers, he tries to focus on the ritual to summon his Eidolon, attempting to bring it forth to support him.

[lostsole31]

The harder he mentally struggles, the more he is faced with the knowledge of what he used to have as a summoner, rather than not knowing. This is worse than not remembering, because as he realizes his mental pathways are fried (and he has trouble concentrating anyway) he understands what depth of understanding he once held ... and is faced with the knowledge that he cannot simply take time, but whatever has changed him has altered his ability to reach out and form planar essence to short-lived life forms. The power of creationism is lost on him, especially that of the bizarre form that once aided him.

[meemaas]

As his attempts to bring into being help fail, he cycles through a few other creatures he remembers being able to summon each attempt failing. With nothing else to try, he closes his eyes and awaits the return of the man....if it really is such a thing.

[lostsole31]

Sounds of battle upstairs, definite spellcasting.

About 30 seconds later, there is a high-pitched scream. The little blue-skinned man-gnome-thing comes zooming down the stairs without his funny little spear. He stumbles about, with signs of several obvious spell-wounds and multiple lacerations, and skitters past the table to the far side of the room. Again, you are surprised by how heavy his step is. He moves to just outside lantern light, and yet ... you seem to see him just fine. Where the light from the lantern he carried down and set by the table by you casts light with a color tinged by the flame, as it ends there is a strange pick-up where it leaves off - just before it would actually get dim - and you see everything just fine. Mind you, you are desperately trying to shift your field of vision even though your forehead is strapped down to the table. It is an alchemy lab, with several strange mechanical apparatus. He removes the lower reservoir of an alembic and turns around with it, even as another figure enters the room.

You hadn't sensed it before, but as your brain desperately tries to deal with limited information (sight-line has to be just right with where your eyes can pan right (the entrance/ stairs/ table w/ lantern) or left (the far side with the alchemy lab). But it is about now that you seem to be very tuned in to the strange chemical smells of the lab; an odd, pungent, unpleasant smell from the little man; and a soap-washed and heavily cologned .... man. He is an even six feet tall. Though not fat, he is quite sturdy and probably weighs a stone shy of 200 pounds. His hair is moderately curly and shoulder-length, but where he comes down the stairs the lantern's best light does not fully reach ... but again your eyes seem to do so. And as with the alchemy lab, the color of light gives way to a monochrome black-and-white.

The man, possessing only slight battle damage, says something in an unknown language, gesturing to the little guy on the far side. He wields a dagger which glows blue with the softness of a torch - not enough to light that far at all - and yet the man seems to have perfect visual tracking. He doesn't seem to be half-elven (like yourself, which would explain possible low-light vision), but human. He gestures relatively confidently, shaking his head in some kind of warning with his words.

The little guy, frantic, laughs ... triumphantly (?) ... says something in that same strange language, and points to what's around him ... and then to you.

The man looks at your direction, trying to decipher what he sees (everything except your head is under a heavy muslin sheet). Thinking him distracted, the little guy lifts his arm as to throw the glass reservoir. Underestimating the human's perceptions are a mistake, and the man had readied himself for just such an attack. He casts a spell - one you either have no familiarity with or memory of - and directly over the center of the lab, but including the little blue man, a strange weather phenomenon spontaneously erupts. Heavy rain, sleet, and hail pummel and smash his lab ... him ... shatters what he's holding ... and even includes you. The little man crumples under the assault and his reservoir erupts into flame. Even with the rain and hail, though, it is made of some type of accelerant that resists water as an extinguishing agent. Meanwhile, you can't escape and you are pummeled for 10 from the hail, and the cold is horrific and truly painful for you at 12 cold - and you scream in a bloodcurdling howl of pain. The table buckles from the pounding and the weight.

All of this within a second or two of the casting of the spell. And, just as you are desperately trying to catch your breath from the brutal pounding and chill, the unnatural alchemical flame - more virulent, as it were, than normal - zooms across the table even as other pressurized combustibles are let loose at the same time.

The explosion is deafening. You take 12 fire. Even though you take the same amount from the fire as you did the cold, the cold was far more painful to you. At the same time, you definitely sense that the fire should have burned you much worse, especially since you couldn't get out of the way. But it doesn't end there. Your body - torn from the table as the leather restraints are torched and weakened - gets tossed to the far wall by the stairs. The man just as desperately manages to slide underneath your flying body as he is to zip behind and upend a medium-size, sturdy table ... to be totally unharmed. You've only ever seen one person ever do this before, a vague memory of an insectoid humanoid sized similarly to the blue man, but the human did it with ease where that weak memory makes you think there was great difficulty for the insectoid ... someone you recognize as having some connection to you and the Tall Man.

Of course, you don't really have time to process all of that as you splat against the far wall for 11 and go prone. Somehow .. somehow, as you lie still trying to regain your senses and a now raging laboratory fire in the midst of a competing chilly downpour on the other side of the room (luckily the blast through your clear) ... somehow, you've managed to keep conscious even when you think you surely would have gone unconscious from the impact.

The man - like the little guy that is lost in fire, smoke, hail, and rain - seems to have a tremendously heavy step. It's like you can feel him when he moves to within a few feet of you ... feel him through the stone floor! He passes you as you lie on a short landing and you even feel him leaving until he's several steps up before the sensation of feeling his movements through the stone can no longer be felt. He is gone.

You lift yourself up with the help of the wall, and your body feels a total stranger to you. The room - having been supported by timbers of unidentifiable plant matter - rage away along with furniture throughout the room. You sense the heat around you. Unlike the explosive heat from before, you are dazed before you recognize that on the landing was a bookcase full of books and scrolls ... all of which are now on fire .... and you are in the midst of that fire! You sense the heat, and it even hurts a little, but it does not harm you. You take several seconds of confused observation before the raw heat of the room does actually get to you for 2 fire .... again, it feels like it should have burnt you to a crisp, but it only damages you a little. No time to continue to stand here, especially since the real danger isn't the flame ... not yet. No, you begin to cough violently as you feel the quality of air diminish and soot take its place.

Instinct drives you up, but you can't see as the thick smoke billows up and out with you. That's when you make a truly remarkable discovery, as only necessity can demand. Your own step seems incredibly heavy ... or does it? It's confusing, but with each step up the stairs you take, you perfectly sense everything in touch with the ground within 10' of you ... the next stair, the height, the depth, the walls, the landing behind you until it is gone, the next level up even. When you come out onto the next floor, even with the thick smoke, you are able to duck down to get a breath. That is when you get a sense of the source of fresh air current (though the smoke is slowly starting to head that way). Desperate for fresh air you start to lope low that way when two things happen simultaneously ... first, you seem to step on and stumble on something like a branch; second, it feels like something slammed down on your forearm as you try to knuckle your way along. You tumble, ass over teakettle, seemingly falling over a dead one of these little blue guys. That isn't what tripped you, you merely stumbled onto/past it. As you lay there, you realize ... it was your own arm. Somehow, your upper arm extended low enough on your crouch that your forearm was parallel to the ground ... and low enough for you to step on this unfamiliar body. (You took a powerful 7 NL from your own mighty footfall. And still you manage to keep moving far past what you think you should be.)

But you need fresh air. Now. You are up on your feet and much more careful this time and after running for about 30 seconds, the cramped, worked spaces give way to tight, natural passageways until you see a sunlit exit out of a cramped hole. You burst forth, stumbling low as the ground descends some, coming out even as the smoke leaving rises up and out. You pant and gasp for air, taking in several heaving breaths. That's when you notice you are being watched. And as fate would have it, he is standing right next to you with an expression that was surprise for the situation now giving way to some other kind of surprise.

It's the man, and this time you see his dark red hair and his gray eyes. A decent looking fellow, though not a "hero's build" despite having that sturdiness.

"Huh," he says rather bemusedly. "You're a hell of a thing."

And with that, he sucker punches you right in the center of the chin for an effective 17 NL! It rings your bell, and STILL you remain standing, much to his amazement and shock.

R1D: What do you do?

[meemaas]

Daevan struggles to pull himself straight, drawing on his memory to try and recall a spell he once knew. He knows he lacks the power to fight back, even considering his seemingly monstrous resilience thus far. With his connection to the planes broken, he knows he only has magic to fall back on, and tries to use the last spell he remembers using. Focusing on the image of a pit, he backs away, trying to form one beneath the feet of his attacker, but struggles to pull out the knowledge of how the spell was actually cast, he nonetheless attempts to invoke it, his mind focused solely on surviving this.

[lostsole31]

The man looks at you - mumbling desperately and wiggling your fingers as you are and lost in thought at the same time - and makes a movement. With his misdirection and your distraction, he easily floats another fist up in an uppercut and the world goes dark ...