The Hands of Fate (IC)

[OMG PONIES]

As you enter the great hall, a wall of sound assaults your ears. Individuals from various countries, races, and religions are deep in heated discussions. The entire chamber is abuzz. You see priests of every stripe around the chamber, from fresh-faced acolytes of Pelor to a shady-looking halfling with one eye who clutches the holy symbol of Olidammara. Suddenly, a tankard of ale flies through the air and shatters on the ground in front of you. Tracing its path, you see a dwarven priest, his face red with fury, shouting at a gnome in a jester's suit. On the other side of the chamber, a synad is having a polite, quiet conversation with himself, shadowy heads manifested on either side both nodding in agreement.

At the far end of the hall, a creature of sheer beauty sits silently. When her gaze finds you, you can't help but feel strangely warmed--comforted, even. Your eyes are drawn to her, though she is veiled by white light. You can distinguish the vaguely human outline of a woman with wings. Long, curling blonde hair runs down both sides of her head, and she holds a scroll tightly in her right hand. She stands and unfolds her wings.

The entire room falls silent.

"Lo," her voice booms, "our hopeful heroes, the brave and faithful, have arrived." She raises her left hand towards you. "Step forward and introduce yourselves." The entire room remains eerily silent, as if something of great importance was about to be said.

[Trodon]

A scaly humanoid of about five and a half feet tall steps up, his golden leathery dragon-like wings unfurling a little, the light shines on his golden scales reflecting his heritage, he wears a long cloak with a silver trim, at his neck you see a necklace of simple beads on a string.

"I am Nixeu, a Dragonborn of the revered Bahumat and sorcerer at your service my lady." He gives a low bow, then takes a step to the side, allowing everyone else to introduce themselves. He looks at each one, his golden eyes lingering on them for a moment, then looking at the next one.

[OMG PONIES]

As the sorcerer steps forward, furious applause erupts from a group of dragons, men, and fellow dragonborn all clad in platinum armor. "FOR BAHAMUT!" one shouts, and raises his sword into the air.

[Trodon]

Nixeu Waves his hand to them.

He speaks. "vinxa! jaka quite vhira, origato wer lyriki renthisj." Lowering his hand when he finishes.

Translation: (For those who speak Draconic.)

Spoiler

Show

Thank you! Now quite down, let the others speak.

[Noctemwolf]

Once Nixeu finished speaking, the young Dillan stood up from his seat. Walking foward, he clapped a hand on Nixeu's back before stepping foward and speaking.

"You can call me anything. Great one, your Majesty, even Chosen one. Personally, I prefer Dike. Your choice."

His smile betrayed a hint of cockiness, his entire body coiled like a spring, ready to pounce on anyone stupid enough to come looking for a fight.

[DoomCup]

A dark haired human, respectfully attempting to avert his green eyes from this fair being's countenance and failing miserably, gives a short bow. "I'm Douglas son of Hawk, a humble blacksmith's apprentice, at your service.", he adds nervously.

[Keld Denar]

Shosden

A blond haired man with a gnarled tree branch over his shoulder kneels before the woman. Shosden Wavery, High Cudgel of St Cuthbert, at your service. The honor is mine.

[Private-Prinny]

A crimson-haired tiefling steps forward, his hair just short enough to make out small horns on the top of his head. He stands at about the same height as his draconic companion, but appears to be sturdier than one would guess at a glance. He wears a fair bit of armor, and holds a guisarme by his side.

My name is Aramis. What can I do for you, my lady?

[Critical]

The man in a full plate armor, with his face covered by his helmet, being about the same height as the dragonborn and tiefling beside him, stepped forward. There was something... frightening and mysterious about him.

"I prefer to not use my name... Call me Predator."

[OMG PONIES]

As Shosden introduces himself, a half-orc with the cross of St. Cuthbert tattooed on his chest cheers and punches the chair next to him, causing it to splinter and break. Various others provide polite applause for those who did not mention a particular deity. When you have all introduced yourselves, the chatter subsides into a nervous hush. Fluttering her wings ever so slightly, the angel speaks once more.

"Thank you all for displaying the courage to serve, and possibly die. Surely, you are aware of the threat that the Hands of Fate poses. For months now, they have been making veiled threats, but we did not take them as anything serious. Until we received this."

With that, she hands you the scroll she has been holding. Unfurling it, you find the following note scrawled in what appears to be blood:

Your time has elapsed. Millenia have been given unto thee, and they have been wasted. Your secrets are known, and they shall be revealed. Prepare to see the coming of your end. A new sun rises in seven days. You have all been warned.

The letter bears no signature--simply a crude drawing of a hand with a circle drawn in its palm. As you come to the end of the message, the angel explains: "Yesterday, a copy of this letter was delivered to every temple in the city under the cover of early morning darkness. It is clear that they are serious; the Hands of Fate are mobilizing. Brother Quickstep has more information for you." The angel sits, folding her wings around herself.

The one-eyed halfling you had seen earlier limps forward. "Sure enough," he rasps, "I was coming back from a job when I saw the little sumbitch drop the scroll on my temple's doorstep and walk away. I trailed him for a few hundred yards, and then we had a little...talk." The rogue laughs as he shares his tale, resting his hand gently on the hilt of his dagger. "It turns out the Hands are meeting tonight in the old graveyard off Daw's Field. That might be as good a place to start as any. Y'all have any questions?"

[Trodon]

"I have none." Nixeu says, stretching out his wings.

When he can he walks up to the angel.
"Relhhu sz hatz." He begins, with a low bow. "I allonel zuo, I fihh tu eljelnzyricw ic sz qufeln yu lyuq yrel ractl ub bayel, eljelc ib iy selacl sz ufc telayr."

Celestial speakers only! (I think I am the only one...)

Spoiler

Show

Hello my lady.
I assure you, I will do everything in my power to stop the hands of fate, even if it means my own death.

[Keld Denar]

Shosden

The people shall be protected. You have my word.

[Private-Prinny]

So we wait until nightfall, then? Sounds good to me. I do have one question, however. Brother Quickfoot, did you happen to "take care of" their messenger? We can't have them knowing about us.

[Noctemwolf]

Dillan gave a small chuckle, and jabbed at the air a few times with his fists.

"No questions here. I'm ready to go!"

[DoomCup]

Douglas nods. I'll help deal with this threat any way I can, even if I can't do all that much...

[Critical]

The man in the armor remains silent, with only hard breathing that could be heard by those standing near him.

[OMG PONIES]

So we wait until nightfall, then? Sounds good to me. I do have one question, however. Brother Quickfoot, did you happen to "take care of" their messenger? We can't have them knowing about us.

The halfling smirks, turning to Aramis and whispers, "No, I didn't take good enough care of him. I tried," he says with a trace of sarcasm as he glares at some of the more lawful committee members, "but he had a horrible accident. He fell down a flight of stairs and landed on some daggers." He concludes with a small, knowing wink to Aramis before taking his seat once more.

As the little thief sits, a warforged covered in runes rises and approaches you. "You are not ready to face the Hands, as a blacksmith is hardly ready to craft weapons without his tools. For this reason, I have made tools for you."

Crossing in front of all of you, the mechanical man stops in front of Dike. He pulls a ring off of his finger and slides it onto the monk's left index finger. "In order to war with spirits, you must often become one." He comes to Douglas next, greeting him with a gentle smile. "You'll do more than you can imagine, child." As he speaks, a flap in his arm opens to reveal a hidden compartment. He retrieves a set of thick glasses and places them on the man's face. "Your foes are like your handiwork; you must strike fast and true." He gives Douglas a friendly pat on the back before moving on.

Coming to Predator, the warforged squints at the man, as if he was trying to study him. After a brief pause, a look of recognition comes over his face, and he reaches into the bag he wears on his back, carefully retrieving a cloak covered in sharp points. "Yours is an enemy that cannot be subdued. You must destroy them." Taking a somber pause, he turns to Aramis. "But to destroy your foe, you must know them. May knowledge always be at your fingertips." He reaches into the same bag and retrieves a thick, leatherbound tome. As he drops it in your hands, you are surprised at its lightness.

The warforged skips over Nixeu, muttering that he has already received his gift. He comes to Shosden, quickly retrieving a pair of armbands from his pack. "While knowledge is necessary," he states, "it must be accompanied by power. Never relent." He straps the armbands on the cleric, nods to all of you, and reclaims his seat.

The angel speaks once more, her voice booming: "Prepare yourselves for the task ahead. Your gods, and ours, depend on you."

OOC: Make any preparations or plans in-character here. For OOC discussion and strategizing, please take it to the OOC thread. PMs have been sent to you all describing the powers of your magic items. Sorry for the long post.

[Critical]

Predator accepts the cloak and after examining it for a second, puts it on. "You have my thanks, warforged." He turns to the rest of the party to see when they'll be ready, definitely showing that he is.

[Private-Prinny]

The halfling smirks, turning to Aramis and whispers, "No, I didn't take good enough care of him. I tried," he says with a trace of sarcasm as he glares at some of the more lawful committee members, "but he had a horrible accident. He fell down a flight of stairs and landed on some daggers." He concludes with a small, knowing wink to Aramis before taking his seat once more.

I always knew there was a reason to like halflings. This one is crafty.

Aramis opens the tome and begins to look through its pages.

Hmm... Interesting... I didn't know that... He looks back up at the Warforged. Thank you for this. I'm sure it will be incredibly useful.

[Trodon]

As the Warforged passes Nixeu he seemed to zone out, as if his mind was else wear. After a moment he snaps out of it, looking around he pauses his gaze on the angel, nods his head, then resumes looking about the room.

He turns to his new companions. "I am ready to leave once everyone else is."

[Keld Denar]

Shosden

Bowing deeply, Shosden addresses the winged woman; What intelligence do you have of the Hand? Do they employ spellcasters? Do they have divine backing? To they consort with fiends or other outsiders? Do they count the undead among their ranks? Do they operate in cells, or do they have central leadership? The more information you can share with us, the better prepared and more successful we may likely be. If circumstances are indead as grave as you predict, we may need every advantage to fight for our very SURVIVAL.

[OMG PONIES]

The angel's light shines brighter than before, and she rises to address you. "Your strength is rivaled by your wisdom, Shosden Wavery, High Cudgel of St. Cuthbert," she both roars and coos at the same time. "These are questions you are right to ask. We have little information about this group as, until now, they have played their cards close to the chest. However, we may draw knowledge from those that came before."

The angel lowers her voice and makes it more expressive, in a combination of storytelling and warning. "Half a millenium ago, there was another group who called themselves the Hands of Fate. Mortals from all walks of life, from the mundane to the magical, joined together in an attempt to destroy all of the gods. In doing so, they hoped to establish themselves as the sole authority in the multiverse. However, the power of the deities was greater than that of the Hands. A mighty tide was unleashed against them." Here, the angel's voice breaks for a moment, and loses all its sense of joy.

"For the first time in history, a truly multifaith army marched against the usurpers. Demons, devils, and angels joined forces to prevent the victory of the godless. I personally fought in that battle, alongside many--many great soldiers, from every realm. There were...heavy casualties," she sighs and pauses for a moment, "but we managed to prevent The Hands from slaying even one god. Subsequently, any living members of the Hands of Fate were either killed or imprisoned, depending on the faith of those that discovered them. A clandestine multifaith council--this council--was formed to track the activities of all cults to ensure that nothing so dangerous ever occurs again.That was the last we had heard of them, until cryptic messages started arriving on temple doorsteps a few months ago. The rest is still a mystery.

The angel opens her wings and floats gently from her seat to stand in front of you, pacing slowly in front of you. Her brilliance increases, and you must struggle not to avert your gaze.

Everyone except Nixeu:

Spoiler

Show

Please make a Fortitude save if you wish to gaze past the radiance to see her face.

Nixeu (and anyone who makes a Fortitude save, DC 20):

Spoiler

Show

You easily see Ana as she appeared to you in your vision, her red hair seemingly sparkling as her own light plays off of it. However, her eyes lack the luster that you saw previously. You can't be certain, but there seems to be a light stream of tears on her cheeks.

She continues to address the group, much quieter now: "Make no mistake, these people are nothing if not intelligent. They have managed to block our attempts at scrying on them, and we fear that a force of powerful believers attempting infiltration would be much too identifiable. They have the backing of no god, as representatives of even the most vile deities are represented by our council...there is no god so foolish as to desire their own destruction. As far as any extraplanar allies or undead soldiers, we are unsure. Their central leadership was destroyed after the battle, but yet their communication with the temples has been very organized. We need you to collect information so we may decide how to proceed. You have a few hours before their meeting--I suggest you prepare for any and every contingency."

[Trodon]

Nixeu bows, then speaks. (In Celestial.) "Zell sz hatz I fihh cuy baih, zuo rajel sz funt."

Translation:

Spoiler

Show

Yes my lady I will not fail, you have my word.

[Critical]

Spoiler

Show

Fort - (1d20+6)[17] + 3 if that's a spell or spell-like ability

[Noctemwolf]

Once the warforged placed the ring on his finger, Dike felt a small surge from the ring. He knew what it could do for him now, and he smiled.

This, is nice, he thought.

Fortitude check to see the angels face:

Spoiler

Show

(1d20+5)[10]

Though he tried, the light emanating from the angel was too much to bear, and he closed his eyes, turning his head away from the bright glow.

While listening to the angel speak, Dike grew more and more somber, the glow of confidence ebbing away from his face. If the Old Hands of Fate had been so strong as to kill a god... How could he handle them?

Perhaps it would be wise to learn about his teammates and learn what they could do. If he was lucky, some of them might actually be useful. Though he hoped none of them were making the wrong choice in risking their lives, he hoped sincerely he would live through this.

We're not actually fighting the Hand. Not yet, at least, he thought to himself.

He nodded his head in resignation to the angel's words.

"You have a few hours before their meeting--I suggest you prepare for any and every contingency."

"We're gonna need it."

[Critical]

The man in the armor listened to the angel, and when she turned bright didn't turn away and he saw it, although, he didn't say anything.

[DoomCup]

Douglas looks in suprise at the spectacles, turning them over in his hands before putting them back on the face. "Thanks" he manages to mumble.

[Private-Prinny]

Spoiler

Show

Fortitude Save: (1d20+6)[12]

Aramis looks at the angels face, but the light is too intense.

Since he cannot bear looking at his employer, he looks back to the book and begins thumbing through it again.

I may be able to piece together some sort of plan, once I have an idea of what we're up against. And I think I may find something worthwhile in this book.

[Keld Denar]

Shosden

Spoiler

Show

Fort - (1d20+8)[11]

Shosden stares at the ground, waiting for the light to pass, then waits again to be dismissed.

[OMG PONIES]

The angel smiles, and curtsies politely. "You may take your leave, brave and faithful ones. You have many preparations to make."