Your characters might have heard of each others' deeds and names, but you have never met.
It has been one week since the mysterious message arrived for you. A bald man in purple and black robes approached you, and delivered this message: "My lord, my masters humbly request your presence at an event to be held in your honor. In the Spire in the Farlands, at this very hour, one week hence. My masters will be present to offer you something no mortal in your realm has ever known. This thing will provide the power to shake the foundations of the world, to throw down all who oppose you, and pull the world over the precipice which it has been perched upon for millenia. I will return in one week. If you agree, I will take you to the Spire, and to my masters."
The week passed quickly. Any research about this "Spire" failed to yield any information. No contact or ally you had could find anything other than whispers and false rumor.
The robed man returned, as promised. Upon your agreement, he spoke a single word, and you were magicked to your destination.
The sky is clear and the night is cold as nine flashes of magic illuminate the barren Farlands. Eleven figures, not all of them humanoid, are transported to this "Spire" for the promised meeting.
Grizzlybane, Qorwon, Kin'Eere and her disguised draconic companion Illa, are four of these figures.
They have arrived in a circular pattern, each spaced evenly apart along with six others. The figures, shrouded in the moonless dark of the autumn night, appear to be surprised to see any other individuals there.
Apparently none of them were told others would be present either.
The bald, robed men all appear the same. They might be brothers, so similar are their facial features. In a quiet voice, one says "Please, follow us. We had to bring you outside the fortress. Our masters are very particular about people teleporting directly into their stronghold. Their wards prevent transportation within a thousand yards of the Spire."
One of the men gestures into the distance. Half a mile away, a huge black spike thrusts out of the ground. It's too far to tell exact height or details, but the structure must be at least a thousand feet tall.
The eleven men begin walking a well-worn path in the rough terrain. The Farlands are nothing but scrubland and brush. Dirt, sand, rock, and dead trees dominate the landscape. The common folk speak of the Farlands in hushed tones, using the tales of a haunted and dead land to scare their children. From what you can see, they just might be right.
The wind blows gently through large rock formations, making a soft whistling sound that comes from no single direction and surrounds the odd group on their hike.
The other six fall into place behind the eleven robed men. As they group closer, their features come into focus. A more patchwork group you could not find anywhere:
A massive minotaur, wearing blood-red robes.
A human of average build and lean muscle, with a rapier at his side.
An armored knight of undetermined race and gender wearing dark blue and golden armor with a lance, sword, and shield.
A silver, winged, draconic humanoid (half-dragon, possibly) flys along just above the ground, her wings kicking up dust with every beat.
An elven woman with a bow stalks forward. At her side, a gigantic black wolf pads silently along, his ears twitching at every sound.
In a voice so deep that it can almost be felt, the minotaur rumbles, "Who are your masters? Why do they summon me... us... to this haunted land?"
"All will be answered in time," the lead Robed Man says serenely. "And... I honestly don't know the answer to your query. We serve. We do not question."
A second Robed Man chimes in. "We simply delivered the message. Its meaning is unkown to us."
The lean-built human also speaks. "But you can speculate, can't you? You know your masters better than we do. Can't you guess what they are planning?"
"We could," the lead man says. "But it is not our place."
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
OOC: Kin'Eere is actually a male character, Illa on the other hand is female. Anyways:
IC: Walking along, the two halflings, appear to be having their own hushed conversation in whispering tones when suddenly the older male halfling says "No and that is FINAL." to which the younger girl halfling pouts and slumps her shoulders.
When the conversation between the minotaur, human, and the servants of these mysterious "masters" begins, the younger halflings ears perk up and her eyes alight as she begins listening with keen interest in their conversation.
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled with a +17 modifier
3 + 17
Private Mod Note
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"As the size of an explosion increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero." -- Varsuvius, Order of the Stick
What, exactly, is that sense motive check for? You'll need a specific reason. Detecting lies? Discerning motives? Please be specific about the goals of your checks.
The path is large enough for everyone to walk slightly grouped, maybe five people wide.
The minotaur snorts angrily. "I dislike being toyed with, human. Do not waste my time with further cryptic words." He does not, however, do anything other than continue following the Robed Men.
The elven woman gives the minotaur a nervous glance and moves further away from him, her wolf shifting with her.
The armored knight slows its walk ever so subtly, until it is walking directly behind the miotaur. It's easy to note that the knight is directly in the minotaur's blind spot, a perfect striking position.
The human doesn't visibly react to the minotaur's anger. He continues to walk along, never shifting his gaze from the Robed Men.
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
OOC: because I forgot my main smorgus board of checks as well:
IC: Illa and Kin'Eere look cautiously around as the situation seems to tense. Both examine the spire off in the distance, as well as their more immediate surroundings.
Spot Check (looking at the tower to see if he notices anything unusual about it):
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled with a +13 modifier
6 + 13
Listen (to see if he notices anything out of the ordinary in the immediate surroundings):
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled with a +17 modifier
20 + 17
Spot check (same reason as Kin'Eere's check)
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled with a +17 modifier
5 + 17
Listen (same reason as Kin'Eere's check)
Dice Roller1 D20 rolled with a +17 modifier
5 + 17
Private Mod Note
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Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"As the size of an explosion increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero." -- Varsuvius, Order of the Stick
Qorwon remembers hearing quite a bit about the supposed mystical powers of the Farlands. Mostly necromancy-related. They're generally about restless spirits being created from anyone who dies here. Or zombies spontaneously raising from corpses.
There are supposed to be several famous necromancers who make the Farlands their home, having been driven out of their respective kingdoms after pissing off the wrong people. Their experiments might be what has given the Farlands their haunted reputation.
Nothing about spellcasting minotaurs, though.
Neither Kin'Eere or Illa notice anything about the Spire other than what is visible to everyone: Black stone, mostly smooth, windows every couple of feet. It does appear to be of equal thickness all the way up, instead of thicker on the ground and tapering off toward the top. Except the top, which abruptly ends in a curved point.
There are no sounds other than the wind and the movement of the group.
The flying half-dragon also notices the knight's movement. "Must there be violence so soon," she asks the knight. "Before we start in on one another, maybe we should hear what these "Masters" have to say?"
The minotaur turns to look at the knight, and his face contorts into what might be a grin. "You'll find me tougher prey than that. I won't be struck down by a coward hiding in my shadow. Not today, anyway."
The knight steps out from behind the minotaur, and begins walking in plain view again. The human rolls his eyes and continues watching the Robed Men as he walks.
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
IC: Illa appraises the person who appears to be a half-silver dragon appraisingly. Noticing who Illa was looking at Kin'eere says "Yes, violence would be best avoided. Personally I would rather avoid it even if it turns out that what these "masters" are offering is something that is only available to one of us amongst this group or some stupid thing like that. Violence has in my opinion never resolved anything. Thats something your cousin's the Chromatic Dragons never seemed to grasp isn't dear Silver?"
Private Mod Note
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"As the size of an explosion increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero." -- Varsuvius, Order of the Stick
Marine buddy of mine is in town for this month. Been hanging out with him.
If you want to use Detect Magic, feel free to spam it. Warlock gets it as a spell-like ability, so it doesn't requre any somatic or verbal components.
The guides don't radiate any magic whatsoever
The silver half-dragon turns to Kin'eere, opening her mouth to speak. When she notices Kin'eere's dragonhide armor, however, she narrows her eyes and closes her mouth. For a moment she doesn't speak, then she says "Tell me something if you would. If I were to slay a halfling then wear its skin as a trophy, would you be inclined to speak with me?"
She turns from Kin'eere and continues flying in silence. The dwarf and the large human watch the exchange with some interest, but remain silent. They appear to be simply observing the others. For what reason is unknown.
The group, engaged in conversation as it is, hasn't noticed the distance they've traveled. The spire looms close, perhaps three hundred yards away.
The minotaur sniffs the wind. From seemingly nowhere, he produces a huge, long-handled battle-axe. The dual edges appear to be serrated, and would likely cause sever shredding wounds. "Be wary. There are undead nearby."
The leader of the Robed Men holds out his hand. "Please, do not be alarmed. Our lord is a master necromancer."
At the bottom of the Spire, leading directly to the door, long torches have been lined on either side of a black carpet, sticking out of the ground and perhaps six feet tall. Between each pair of torches, what appear to be armored and armed statues line the way. There are many statues, perhaps twenty on each side of the path.
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
OOC: in case it wasn't clear the dragonhide armor that Kin'eere is wearing happens to have come from a RED Dragon, not a Silver, or other Metallic Dragon.
IC: Illa makes a shrilling laughing noise at the Silver Half-Dragon and then says in perfect Draconic "Not very perceptive are you Cousin? That is Red Dragon Hide. So unless you take offense at the death of such malevolent beings as the Reds, then I don't see what the problem is."
@Dalkon: I'm aware. Doesn't mean all Dragons automatically hate other kinds of dragons.
@sceluk: I already answered it. It's in the OOC in my previous post.
The half-silver stares at Illa hard for a moment, then tilts her head and laughs. In draconic, she replies. "Ah, I see now. But the death of any dragon is to me mourned. Just because you believe our Red relatives to be wholly evil does not make it so. I do not share your narrow view of good and evil, nor do I condone any being wearing a dead dragon's corpse as a trophy."
The half-silver flies up several feet higher and several feet away from Illa and Kin'eere, obviously done conversing.
The rest of the group don't seem to be interested in getting involved in a theological debate so soon after arriving. They remain silent and uninvolved.
The group begins walking between the statues. They remain completely still and unmoving, as statues should. The minotaur, however, sniffs at the statues interestedly. After a moment, he steps up to one, places one huge hand on the front of one, and shoves. The "statue" falls backward, then rises back to its feet and resumes its watch.
"Undead," the minotaur says darkly. "Abominations. They should be put back to rest, not made to stand and move and kill."
The group arrives at the door of the Spire, a huge black thing made of some jagged metal shards. The lead Robed Man places his hand on one of the more jagged pieces of the door. He slides his hand across it, and the blood smears the edge. The door slowly swings open.
Inside, the first floor is ringed with more guards. These ones are moving, and more importantly they are breathing. The spire itself is at least two hundred feet in diameter, and the inside is larger than it appeared it might be.
Around the inside perimeter, a stone staircase is carved around and up, so that it presumably spirals all the way to the top.
The minotaur sniffs again, then relaxes. "Half-orcs," he says of the guards with approval in his voice. "Sturdier than dry corpses and humans and elves."
"Please follow me," the lead Robed Man says politely. "My masters wait on the level above."
The lean human finally speaks. "I can't help but notice that if we were to go upstairs, the guards would be in a perfect position to prevent our escape."
"My masters are not going to harm you," the Robed Man says. "You have my word, my lord."
The human narrows his eyes, but follows the Robed Men up.
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
Illa and Kin'eere exchange uneasy glances at the mention and sight of the Half-Orcs. No doubt that the group could combine their forces and easily handle the Half-Orcs, if they put their differences aside. But the question is would they want to once the truth as to why they were summoned had been revealed. No matter, at the moment not much could be done about the situation. As such Kin'Eere motions to Illa, and the two of them start following the robed men up the stairs.
Private Mod Note
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"As the size of an explosion increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero." -- Varsuvius, Order of the Stick
The door radiates Transmutation and Necromancy. The minotaur and just about every other person there except the Robed Men radiate a very large variety of auras. Just about every type of magic comes from each of them. Their magical equipment is obviously varied and powerful.
The minotaur, however, also appears to radiate something else. An aura Qorwon hasn't ever encountered before. It is, simply put, magic. Pure, raw, unbound magic. The cascade of energy almost overwhelms Qorwon for a moment, but he manages to recover before he collapses.
The dwarf, and elven ranger apparently prefer to remain silent during all of these exchanges. The dwarf and elf don't appear to care for the half-orcs, however.
As the group arrives at the floor above, the room comes into full view. A long, oval table dominates most of the room. At the far end of the table, there are three figures. Two of them are at the head of the table: A living skeleton with burning green eyes sits at a throne at the very head of the table, clad in regal purple robes. They are similar to the Robed Men's garments, but much more fanciful.
At his right hand, standing rather than sitting, is a skeletally thin man pale man in black finery. The man leans slightly on a cane, and wears a silver ring set with a large square white stone. His hairline is receding, but his hair remains thick and dark over the back half of his head.
Sitting to the lich's left and two seats down, a powefully built human chats with the lich. His hair and trimmed beard are dark, peppered slightly with grey. He wears a breastplate of silvery metal. His shield lays propped against the left side of his chair, and is emblazoned with a snow-white wolf. A simple longsword is propped up next to the shield.
When the group arrives fully on the second floor, the lich breaks off the conversation and looks at the group. "Welcome, travelers, to my home. No doubt you have questions. But first, introductions are in order."
He gestures to each of the group in turn as he introduces them to the others.
The minotuar: "Malaketh, minotaur warlord and master of the rarest magicks."
The half-silver dragon: "Verra, the Fist of Io."
The elven ranger: "Alyria, the Warden of the Woods."
The knight: "Sir Robert, the Golden Champion."
The lean human: "Reiuen Valliar, rumored to be one of the best swordsmen alive."
The halflings: "Kin'eere and Illa, valliant dragonslayers both."
The dwarf: "Grizzlybane Axebeard, the Warden of the Deeps."
The elven warlock: "Qorwon Aereal, the Fiendfoe."
He nods to the muscled human sitting next to him. "And the White Wolf, Aldrick."
The lich spreads his arms wide. "And I am Sandro."
A history, arcana, geography, nobility & royalty, religion, or some other knowledge check might give you some information about each person in the group. You don't need to make one for each person. Just a single check and you'll get info about everyone. Feel free to make several different types of knowledge check, though. It'll get you more info if you do.
The thin man to his right looks mildly bored during the whole thing, and the lich fails to introduce him whatsoever. From the way the lich avoids looking at him during the introducations, it's apparently deliberate.
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
OOC: going to have to edit in my checks as Myth-Weavers is apparently down for maintenance. At the moment.
IC: "Fist of Io. Ah well that explains a lot actually." Kin'eere muses to himself loud enough for the Illa to hear, which she smiles at but then grimaces when she hears hers and Kin'Eere's names mentioned along with the titles that the Lich associated with them. "I am sorry, but I do not slay Dragons. I slay Mass Murderers. Dragons who cause the whole sale slaughter of countless hundreds of thousands of non-dragons for the sole purpose of gaining enjoyment from the act or new treasures for their hoard. These to me, are Criminals above all else." She looks at the Silver Half-Dragon who has been recognized as a Fist of Io and says directly to her again in Draconic "If you cannot see the value of any life form aside from Dragonkind, then you I am sorry to say are one who is working against Dragonkinds long lasting survival. And that, I believe is something for which Io himself would not be proud."
EDIT OOC: I kind of screwed up and neglected to take any skills relevant to gathering information or knowing information of this kind for some reason.
OOC: sorry about the gold text, it was the only color I could think of that fit the character. I could see about toning it down a bit, but not sure how at this exact moment. Is it just that it isn't showing up on your skin, or is it just too bright?
Private Mod Note
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"As the size of an explosion increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero." -- Varsuvius, Order of the Stick
My forum skin is set to blue, so the yellow doesn't bother me.
@sceluk: You can make a spellcraft or a seperate Knowledge: Arcana check, but the DC is pretty tough, even for you.
Check results:
Malaketh: He's a minotaur warlord, heralded as a liberator by his kind. He was a former slave in a since-destroyed kingdom. One day, he broke his chains, freed all the enslaved minotaurs, and lead a bloody revolt. The survivors, and other minotaur who had heard of him, fled to the western mountains, where they waged war on the kingdom. With aid from some other monsterous creatures, they destroyed the kingdom. He's supposed to be a warrior mage of some kind or another, and is known for brutality and nobility in equal portions.
Verra: Holy warrior of the draconic deity Io, the Father of Dragonkind. She apparently takes no sides in draconic conflicts, and has been known to both aid and kill evil and good dragons alike. She's known to be a powerful spellcaster and unarmed combatant. She is responsible for the rise and fall of dozens of famous dragons.
Alyria: Called the Warden of the Woods, she is an archer without equal and ranger famous for killing goblins and orcs. She wanders the forests of the world, protecting them from harm and slaying orcs and goblins who threaten the woods and elvenkind. It is said she single-handedly defeated a horde of goblins who were massing against an elven stronghold in the south.
Sir Robert: Called the Golden Champion, he is among the most famous knights in the world, and a master of mounted combat. He has won dozens of tournaments, slain several fiends, and rescued countless maidens. He's considered a paragon of knightly virtue, and is respected all over the world for his skill at arms and his chivalrous nature.
Reiuen: A famous duelist and master of ancient combat styles. He's often considered the greatest living swordsman, with only Aldrick the White Wolf said to be his equal. They dueled once, almost a decade ago, but neither will say who was the winner. He has trained all over the world, perfecting his technique, and was a famous pirate for several years before giving it up to master the sword.
Aldrick: The leader of the White Wolves mercenary band, he is one of the greatest swordsmen alive. Arguments about the best swordfighter usually come down to Aldrick and Reiuen. After their famous duel, Aldrick went on to found the White Wolves, and is considered an outlaw in several kingdoms. It is said he'll take on any job, given the right price.
Sandro: Rumors say the lich Sandro is the oldest creature that exists in the world. His tales are legendary in scope and too numerous to count. While all his tales agree that he is a master necromance, they can't seem to agree if he's a villian or hero. It is said he's been the lord of dozens of kingdoms some centuries and the slayer of them in others. Tales tell of him rescuing and teaching other outcast necromancers, or alternatively hunting them down and slaughtering heroes of all kinds to prevent any from challenging him. There have been no tales of him in centuries, however, and it is generally accepted that he was destroyed by the wizard Artos in an epic duel.
You can just read everyone else's bios for their backstories.
"I am not interested in your criticism, cousin," Verra says simply.
"Wise little dragon," Malaketh says with approval. "We are not here to argue, are we? We are here to listen to some mad offer of power."
"Ah, how rude of me," Sandro says. "I have forgotten one of my guests. Fideas. No doubt you've heard his name before. I've contracted his services, along with Aldrick, to aid you if necessary." He gestures to the wall near where the group came up the stairs.
A human man leans against the wall where you are quite sure there wasn't one before. He's of average height and build. In fact, the only unique thing about the man is that he completely lacks uniqueness. Average face, thinning brown hair, middle-age, everything about him is forgettable.
For all that, he's one of the most famous assassins to ever live. Nobody can prove his involvement in any of his rumored target's deaths, but his named a suspect in almost every famous assassination in the last thirty years.
"You might have simply hired me," Fideas says blandly, "But I am just as interested as these others to hear your offer. Remember, your offer included a taste of this "power" you're promising, the same as these others."
"Quite right," Sandro says. "But first, I'm afraid I lured you under false pretenses. Unfortunately, you must prove yourselves worthy of this power before it can be granted. This was one of the... shall we say conditions. There are several other conditions, but until you prove yourselves, I'm afraid I can't trust you with them." He glances at the pale man to his right. Disapproval touches his voice lightly. "My guest was quite insistent that I agree to follow his rules to the letter before he grants us this "ultimate power" of his."
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
The pale man finally speaks. His voice is cold and mild. "Allow me to answer this question, Sandro. Imagine it like this: What I'm offering you, epic power, is in a room. This room is locked behind an impenetrable door. There is a keyhole, but no key exists. So, we must forge one. I require you to bring me the pieces so I might create the key, unlock the door, and give to you what is behind it."
For some reason, he glances at Alyria as he speaks. "I'll need three things. The arterial blood of a chromatic dragon, the bones of a saint, and an ancient artifact." He smiles slightly. "Oh, one more thing I forgot: I'll need them before a full month has passed."
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
Kin'eere and Illa both Grimace as he mentions the Chromatic Dragon. While they were not opposed to fighting Dragons who were causing destruction on a massive scale, and granted Chromatics were noted for doing such... finding one that is doing this withing a months time and reporting back here would be rather difficult to say the least. It would take considerable tracking skills. Kin'eere glances over at the elf and wonders if she would be of any use in tracking these items that the man wants down in the amount of time that has been alloted to them. Alas, there was one item that the man mentioned that he didn't go into nearly enough detail about. "Do you have a specific Ancient Artifact in mind, or just some random ancient artifact that we manage to find? Oh and on that topic, do you have a specific Saint in mind that you want the bones from?"
Private Mod Note
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"As the size of an explosion increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero." -- Varsuvius, Order of the Stick
OOC: so um... it's been 3 days since Halinn posted that he would be trying to post something "tomorrow." Is there any particular reason that we are still waiting for him to post? Or can we continue this adventure on the assumption that both Halinn and Yukora have dropped from the adventure for one reason or another?
Private Mod Note
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"As the size of an explosion increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero." -- Varsuvius, Order of the Stick
Yukora is having computer trouble, so until he says otherwise I'm going to assume he's still interested.
I do admit I have been taking a little extra time in responding in the hopes that Halinn and Yukora would be able to post.
"Any ancient artifact will do," the pale man says. "As will the bones of any saint and the blood of chromatic dragons of any age. It's not the physical object that truely matters, but what they represent."
Sandro addresses Qorwon. "I am just as limited as you are, in this venture," the lich says. "I have no access to this power any more than you do. When I was approached, I was promised the same opportunity as you were, in exchange for using my home and resources as a base of operations. One condition involved bringing the best and brightest of the land together to listen to the offer. There were several others, but until you pass the test, I can't tell you about them."
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
"Well then I say we might as well get started. This isn't going to be an easy venture by any means and the sooner we get started the sooner we can get finished." Kin'eere says glancing at the group of people around him.
EDIT OOC: with Caex's permission, I have re-done my character and his dragon's skills slightly to better be able to perform the functions of their professions.
EDIT BIC: "This is obviously a Wizards Tower, or was at one point. I don't suppose you have up to date research Material that I could utilize to see if I can locate some of the items that we are supposed to find? Maps, Books, anything of the sort?" Illa says, addressing the Lich unabashedly.
@sceluk: No results on the checks. And I'm not going to tell you what the power is. It's more fun this way. For all you know, it's even better than epic levels.
Sandro sighs as Illa speaks to him, and Aldrick laughs. Sandro pulls out a small pouch and hands it to Aldrick. Aldrick dumps the contents of the pouch, a pile of platinum pieces, onto the table and begins counting them.
"Aldrick bet me fifty platinum pieces that one of you would ask to use my personal library to search for information," Sandro explains. "Unfortunately, part of the test is the ability to find and use information.. If I gave it to you, it wouldn't be much of a test."
The pale man speaks again. "This test is not just a trial by combat. It's also to gauge your intelligence, resourcefulness, and adaptability. You must go out into the world, find these three objects by whatever means you want to use, and bring them back in a timely manner. If we were to aid you, it would be a meaningless task."
Malaketh speaks. "We should divide our efforts. Split into groups. One finds a dragon, one finds tthe bones, one finds an artifact."
Reiuen nods. "Agreed. If we concentrate our considerable power, we will not have time to find all three necessary items. If three seperate groups work independently, whoever finishes first can aid the others."
Verra shakes her head. "We should stay together. With our resources, strengths, and knowledge pooled we have a better chance of success."
Everything scares me... kitties scare me... squirrels scare me... corpses....corpses bring forth a pletora of confusing feeling which i prefer not to dwell on...:p
1)Halinn- Grizzlybane Axebeard
2)sceluk- Qorwon Aereal
3)Yukora- Torr
4)DalkonCledwin- Kin'Eere Mel'Arv and Illaxian (Illa)
Your characters might have heard of each others' deeds and names, but you have never met.
"My lord, my masters humbly request your presence at an event to be held in your honor. In the Spire in the Farlands, at this very hour, one week hence. My masters will be present to offer you something no mortal in your realm has ever known. This thing will provide the power to shake the foundations of the world, to throw down all who oppose you, and pull the world over the precipice which it has been perched upon for millenia. I will return in one week. If you agree, I will take you to the Spire, and to my masters."
The week passed quickly. Any research about this "Spire" failed to yield any information. No contact or ally you had could find anything other than whispers and false rumor.
The robed man returned, as promised. Upon your agreement, he spoke a single word, and you were magicked to your destination.
The sky is clear and the night is cold as nine flashes of magic illuminate the barren Farlands. Eleven figures, not all of them humanoid, are transported to this "Spire" for the promised meeting.
Grizzlybane, Qorwon, Kin'Eere and her disguised draconic companion Illa, are four of these figures.
They have arrived in a circular pattern, each spaced evenly apart along with six others. The figures, shrouded in the moonless dark of the autumn night, appear to be surprised to see any other individuals there.
Apparently none of them were told others would be present either.
The bald, robed men all appear the same. They might be brothers, so similar are their facial features. In a quiet voice, one says "Please, follow us. We had to bring you outside the fortress. Our masters are very particular about people teleporting directly into their stronghold. Their wards prevent transportation within a thousand yards of the Spire."
One of the men gestures into the distance. Half a mile away, a huge black spike thrusts out of the ground. It's too far to tell exact height or details, but the structure must be at least a thousand feet tall.
The eleven men begin walking a well-worn path in the rough terrain. The Farlands are nothing but scrubland and brush. Dirt, sand, rock, and dead trees dominate the landscape. The common folk speak of the Farlands in hushed tones, using the tales of a haunted and dead land to scare their children. From what you can see, they just might be right.
The wind blows gently through large rock formations, making a soft whistling sound that comes from no single direction and surrounds the odd group on their hike.
The other six fall into place behind the eleven robed men. As they group closer, their features come into focus. A more patchwork group you could not find anywhere:
A massive minotaur, wearing blood-red robes.
A human of average build and lean muscle, with a rapier at his side.
An armored knight of undetermined race and gender wearing dark blue and golden armor with a lance, sword, and shield.
A silver, winged, draconic humanoid (half-dragon, possibly) flys along just above the ground, her wings kicking up dust with every beat.
An elven woman with a bow stalks forward. At her side, a gigantic black wolf pads silently along, his ears twitching at every sound.
In a voice so deep that it can almost be felt, the minotaur rumbles, "Who are your masters? Why do they summon me... us... to this haunted land?"
"All will be answered in time," the lead Robed Man says serenely. "And... I honestly don't know the answer to your query. We serve. We do not question."
A second Robed Man chimes in. "We simply delivered the message. Its meaning is unkown to us."
The lean-built human also speaks. "But you can speculate, can't you? You know your masters better than we do. Can't you guess what they are planning?"
"We could," the lead man says. "But it is not our place."
{Magic: The RPG}
IC: Walking along, the two halflings, appear to be having their own hushed conversation in whispering tones when suddenly the older male halfling says "No and that is FINAL." to which the younger girl halfling pouts and slumps her shoulders.
When the conversation between the minotaur, human, and the servants of these mysterious "masters" begins, the younger halflings ears perk up and her eyes alight as she begins listening with keen interest in their conversation.
The path is large enough for everyone to walk slightly grouped, maybe five people wide.
The elven woman gives the minotaur a nervous glance and moves further away from him, her wolf shifting with her.
The armored knight slows its walk ever so subtly, until it is walking directly behind the miotaur. It's easy to note that the knight is directly in the minotaur's blind spot, a perfect striking position.
The human doesn't visibly react to the minotaur's anger. He continues to walk along, never shifting his gaze from the Robed Men.
{Magic: The RPG}
{Magic: The RPG}
IC: Illa and Kin'Eere look cautiously around as the situation seems to tense. Both examine the spire off in the distance, as well as their more immediate surroundings.
Listen (to see if he notices anything out of the ordinary in the immediate surroundings):
Listen (same reason as Kin'Eere's check)
There are supposed to be several famous necromancers who make the Farlands their home, having been driven out of their respective kingdoms after pissing off the wrong people. Their experiments might be what has given the Farlands their haunted reputation.
Nothing about spellcasting minotaurs, though.
Neither Kin'Eere or Illa notice anything about the Spire other than what is visible to everyone: Black stone, mostly smooth, windows every couple of feet. It does appear to be of equal thickness all the way up, instead of thicker on the ground and tapering off toward the top. Except the top, which abruptly ends in a curved point.
There are no sounds other than the wind and the movement of the group.
The minotaur turns to look at the knight, and his face contorts into what might be a grin. "You'll find me tougher prey than that. I won't be struck down by a coward hiding in my shadow. Not today, anyway."
The knight steps out from behind the minotaur, and begins walking in plain view again. The human rolls his eyes and continues watching the Robed Men as he walks.
{Magic: The RPG}
IC: Illa appraises the person who appears to be a half-silver dragon appraisingly. Noticing who Illa was looking at Kin'eere says "Yes, violence would be best avoided. Personally I would rather avoid it even if it turns out that what these "masters" are offering is something that is only available to one of us amongst this group or some stupid thing like that. Violence has in my opinion never resolved anything. Thats something your cousin's the Chromatic Dragons never seemed to grasp isn't dear Silver?"
If you want to use Detect Magic, feel free to spam it. Warlock gets it as a spell-like ability, so it doesn't requre any somatic or verbal components.
The guides don't radiate any magic whatsoever
She turns from Kin'eere and continues flying in silence. The dwarf and the large human watch the exchange with some interest, but remain silent. They appear to be simply observing the others. For what reason is unknown.
The group, engaged in conversation as it is, hasn't noticed the distance they've traveled. The spire looms close, perhaps three hundred yards away.
The minotaur sniffs the wind. From seemingly nowhere, he produces a huge, long-handled battle-axe. The dual edges appear to be serrated, and would likely cause sever shredding wounds. "Be wary. There are undead nearby."
The leader of the Robed Men holds out his hand. "Please, do not be alarmed. Our lord is a master necromancer."
At the bottom of the Spire, leading directly to the door, long torches have been lined on either side of a black carpet, sticking out of the ground and perhaps six feet tall. Between each pair of torches, what appear to be armored and armed statues line the way. There are many statues, perhaps twenty on each side of the path.
{Magic: The RPG}
IC: Illa makes a shrilling laughing noise at the Silver Half-Dragon and then says in perfect Draconic "Not very perceptive are you Cousin? That is Red Dragon Hide. So unless you take offense at the death of such malevolent beings as the Reds, then I don't see what the problem is."
@sceluk: I already answered it. It's in the OOC in my previous post.
The half-silver flies up several feet higher and several feet away from Illa and Kin'eere, obviously done conversing.
The rest of the group don't seem to be interested in getting involved in a theological debate so soon after arriving. They remain silent and uninvolved.
The group begins walking between the statues. They remain completely still and unmoving, as statues should. The minotaur, however, sniffs at the statues interestedly. After a moment, he steps up to one, places one huge hand on the front of one, and shoves. The "statue" falls backward, then rises back to its feet and resumes its watch.
"Undead," the minotaur says darkly. "Abominations. They should be put back to rest, not made to stand and move and kill."
The group arrives at the door of the Spire, a huge black thing made of some jagged metal shards. The lead Robed Man places his hand on one of the more jagged pieces of the door. He slides his hand across it, and the blood smears the edge. The door slowly swings open.
Inside, the first floor is ringed with more guards. These ones are moving, and more importantly they are breathing. The spire itself is at least two hundred feet in diameter, and the inside is larger than it appeared it might be.
Around the inside perimeter, a stone staircase is carved around and up, so that it presumably spirals all the way to the top.
The minotaur sniffs again, then relaxes. "Half-orcs," he says of the guards with approval in his voice. "Sturdier than dry corpses and humans and elves."
"Please follow me," the lead Robed Man says politely. "My masters wait on the level above."
The lean human finally speaks. "I can't help but notice that if we were to go upstairs, the guards would be in a perfect position to prevent our escape."
"My masters are not going to harm you," the Robed Man says. "You have my word, my lord."
The human narrows his eyes, but follows the Robed Men up.
{Magic: The RPG}
The minotaur, however, also appears to radiate something else. An aura Qorwon hasn't ever encountered before. It is, simply put, magic. Pure, raw, unbound magic. The cascade of energy almost overwhelms Qorwon for a moment, but he manages to recover before he collapses.
As the group arrives at the floor above, the room comes into full view. A long, oval table dominates most of the room. At the far end of the table, there are three figures. Two of them are at the head of the table: A living skeleton with burning green eyes sits at a throne at the very head of the table, clad in regal purple robes. They are similar to the Robed Men's garments, but much more fanciful.
At his right hand, standing rather than sitting, is a skeletally thin man pale man in black finery. The man leans slightly on a cane, and wears a silver ring set with a large square white stone. His hairline is receding, but his hair remains thick and dark over the back half of his head.
Sitting to the lich's left and two seats down, a powefully built human chats with the lich. His hair and trimmed beard are dark, peppered slightly with grey. He wears a breastplate of silvery metal. His shield lays propped against the left side of his chair, and is emblazoned with a snow-white wolf. A simple longsword is propped up next to the shield.
When the group arrives fully on the second floor, the lich breaks off the conversation and looks at the group. "Welcome, travelers, to my home. No doubt you have questions. But first, introductions are in order."
He gestures to each of the group in turn as he introduces them to the others.
The minotuar: "Malaketh, minotaur warlord and master of the rarest magicks."
The half-silver dragon: "Verra, the Fist of Io."
The elven ranger: "Alyria, the Warden of the Woods."
The knight: "Sir Robert, the Golden Champion."
The lean human: "Reiuen Valliar, rumored to be one of the best swordsmen alive."
The halflings: "Kin'eere and Illa, valliant dragonslayers both."
The dwarf: "Grizzlybane Axebeard, the Warden of the Deeps."
The elven warlock: "Qorwon Aereal, the Fiendfoe."
He nods to the muscled human sitting next to him. "And the White Wolf, Aldrick."
The lich spreads his arms wide. "And I am Sandro."
{Magic: The RPG}
IC: "Fist of Io. Ah well that explains a lot actually." Kin'eere muses to himself loud enough for the Illa to hear, which she smiles at but then grimaces when she hears hers and Kin'Eere's names mentioned along with the titles that the Lich associated with them. "I am sorry, but I do not slay Dragons. I slay Mass Murderers. Dragons who cause the whole sale slaughter of countless hundreds of thousands of non-dragons for the sole purpose of gaining enjoyment from the act or new treasures for their hoard. These to me, are Criminals above all else." She looks at the Silver Half-Dragon who has been recognized as a Fist of Io and says directly to her again in Draconic "If you cannot see the value of any life form aside from Dragonkind, then you I am sorry to say are one who is working against Dragonkinds long lasting survival. And that, I believe is something for which Io himself would not be proud."
EDIT OOC: I kind of screwed up and neglected to take any skills relevant to gathering information or knowing information of this kind for some reason.
@sceluk: You can make a spellcraft or a seperate Knowledge: Arcana check, but the DC is pretty tough, even for you.
Check results:
Malaketh: He's a minotaur warlord, heralded as a liberator by his kind. He was a former slave in a since-destroyed kingdom. One day, he broke his chains, freed all the enslaved minotaurs, and lead a bloody revolt. The survivors, and other minotaur who had heard of him, fled to the western mountains, where they waged war on the kingdom. With aid from some other monsterous creatures, they destroyed the kingdom. He's supposed to be a warrior mage of some kind or another, and is known for brutality and nobility in equal portions.
Verra: Holy warrior of the draconic deity Io, the Father of Dragonkind. She apparently takes no sides in draconic conflicts, and has been known to both aid and kill evil and good dragons alike. She's known to be a powerful spellcaster and unarmed combatant. She is responsible for the rise and fall of dozens of famous dragons.
Alyria: Called the Warden of the Woods, she is an archer without equal and ranger famous for killing goblins and orcs. She wanders the forests of the world, protecting them from harm and slaying orcs and goblins who threaten the woods and elvenkind. It is said she single-handedly defeated a horde of goblins who were massing against an elven stronghold in the south.
Sir Robert: Called the Golden Champion, he is among the most famous knights in the world, and a master of mounted combat. He has won dozens of tournaments, slain several fiends, and rescued countless maidens. He's considered a paragon of knightly virtue, and is respected all over the world for his skill at arms and his chivalrous nature.
Reiuen: A famous duelist and master of ancient combat styles. He's often considered the greatest living swordsman, with only Aldrick the White Wolf said to be his equal. They dueled once, almost a decade ago, but neither will say who was the winner. He has trained all over the world, perfecting his technique, and was a famous pirate for several years before giving it up to master the sword.
Aldrick: The leader of the White Wolves mercenary band, he is one of the greatest swordsmen alive. Arguments about the best swordfighter usually come down to Aldrick and Reiuen. After their famous duel, Aldrick went on to found the White Wolves, and is considered an outlaw in several kingdoms. It is said he'll take on any job, given the right price.
Sandro: Rumors say the lich Sandro is the oldest creature that exists in the world. His tales are legendary in scope and too numerous to count. While all his tales agree that he is a master necromance, they can't seem to agree if he's a villian or hero. It is said he's been the lord of dozens of kingdoms some centuries and the slayer of them in others. Tales tell of him rescuing and teaching other outcast necromancers, or alternatively hunting them down and slaughtering heroes of all kinds to prevent any from challenging him. There have been no tales of him in centuries, however, and it is generally accepted that he was destroyed by the wizard Artos in an epic duel.
You can just read everyone else's bios for their backstories.
"Wise little dragon," Malaketh says with approval. "We are not here to argue, are we? We are here to listen to some mad offer of power."
"Ah, how rude of me," Sandro says. "I have forgotten one of my guests. Fideas. No doubt you've heard his name before. I've contracted his services, along with Aldrick, to aid you if necessary." He gestures to the wall near where the group came up the stairs.
A human man leans against the wall where you are quite sure there wasn't one before. He's of average height and build. In fact, the only unique thing about the man is that he completely lacks uniqueness. Average face, thinning brown hair, middle-age, everything about him is forgettable.
For all that, he's one of the most famous assassins to ever live. Nobody can prove his involvement in any of his rumored target's deaths, but his named a suspect in almost every famous assassination in the last thirty years.
"You might have simply hired me," Fideas says blandly, "But I am just as interested as these others to hear your offer. Remember, your offer included a taste of this "power" you're promising, the same as these others."
"Quite right," Sandro says. "But first, I'm afraid I lured you under false pretenses. Unfortunately, you must prove yourselves worthy of this power before it can be granted. This was one of the... shall we say conditions. There are several other conditions, but until you prove yourselves, I'm afraid I can't trust you with them." He glances at the pale man to his right. Disapproval touches his voice lightly. "My guest was quite insistent that I agree to follow his rules to the letter before he grants us this "ultimate power" of his."
{Magic: The RPG}
For some reason, he glances at Alyria as he speaks. "I'll need three things. The arterial blood of a chromatic dragon, the bones of a saint, and an ancient artifact." He smiles slightly. "Oh, one more thing I forgot: I'll need them before a full month has passed."
{Magic: The RPG}
I do admit I have been taking a little extra time in responding in the hopes that Halinn and Yukora would be able to post.
Sandro addresses Qorwon. "I am just as limited as you are, in this venture," the lich says. "I have no access to this power any more than you do. When I was approached, I was promised the same opportunity as you were, in exchange for using my home and resources as a base of operations. One condition involved bringing the best and brightest of the land together to listen to the offer. There were several others, but until you pass the test, I can't tell you about them."
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EDIT OOC: with Caex's permission, I have re-done my character and his dragon's skills slightly to better be able to perform the functions of their professions.
EDIT BIC: "This is obviously a Wizards Tower, or was at one point. I don't suppose you have up to date research Material that I could utilize to see if I can locate some of the items that we are supposed to find? Maps, Books, anything of the sort?" Illa says, addressing the Lich unabashedly.
"Aldrick bet me fifty platinum pieces that one of you would ask to use my personal library to search for information," Sandro explains. "Unfortunately, part of the test is the ability to find and use information.. If I gave it to you, it wouldn't be much of a test."
The pale man speaks again. "This test is not just a trial by combat. It's also to gauge your intelligence, resourcefulness, and adaptability. You must go out into the world, find these three objects by whatever means you want to use, and bring them back in a timely manner. If we were to aid you, it would be a meaningless task."
Malaketh speaks. "We should divide our efforts. Split into groups. One finds a dragon, one finds tthe bones, one finds an artifact."
Reiuen nods. "Agreed. If we concentrate our considerable power, we will not have time to find all three necessary items. If three seperate groups work independently, whoever finishes first can aid the others."
Verra shakes her head. "We should stay together. With our resources, strengths, and knowledge pooled we have a better chance of success."
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