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"The Arcotiri"
Posted: 21 Aug 2009 11:00 AM |
~ Recent reports coming from Buckshire and Port Royale have revealed that there has been a great increase in Sslith activity near Blackstone Swamp and adjacent areas. Many witnesses have claimed to have seen them digging in various parts of the those areas. What they are digging for is unknown. It is known that it is extremely rare for those creatures to venture this far out or near human settlements. The Port and Buckshire have doubled their respective watches and issued travel warnings to all people. These creatures are extremely dangerous.
Those travelling near Mistaya Gorge and Falls have reported strange lights and sounds coming from the dark tower of Naillamne. Porprietor and notable barkeep of the Worlds Smallest Pub, Hilary Tinsing claims to have seen the very gates of the tower open and numerous men and mage alike make thier way deep into the surrounding mountains.
In other news, once again Mrs. Miggins Pie recepie has been stolen. Famous philanthropist Sir Jessup the Younger has offered a 1000 gold piece reward and a free "Wild Tour" to Aboddan prison in exchange for the return of the recipe to the famous pie maker. It is not clear whether the "Wild Tour" includes a return back however. Questions regarding the tour can be directed to Esmerelda. Newly hired scribe and fashonista of P&J Enterprises.~ |
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Re: "The Arcotiri"
Posted: 21 Aug 2009 01:49 PM |
Ulalume smelled the sweet salt air of the sea and knew what it was to be alive again.
A quest. An honest-to-goodness quest. Something that mattered. Purpose. Not since she had been taken prisoner by the Atalan had she felt its presence, and now it caused her to bloom like a desert flower in an annual squall.
She landed near Ladriel, racing down the path toward the glade that housed the one man she knew could be vital to the success of this mission. You'd never know from the outward appearance of this rabbit hole, as she liked to think of it, that it was the home of one of the most powerful wizards in all of Vives. She liked to think of it, much like everything else she experienced in life, as a lesson.
Unseen by Ulalume, eyes behind boughs watched her. They knew exactly why she was there, and noted her predictability with scorn.
Heading back to the rowboat on the shore that would take her across the water to the Mirghul Ranger's Lodge, Ulalume vowed to never allow herself to get this soft again. The previous day's confrontation had left her sore and, she knew, had it not been for a quicj quaff of a couple of potions, she would have been a liability to the group. Never again, she promised.
Back at the hole, a voice softly cursed the wards in place. The envelope could plainly be seen just beyond reach through the portcullis, but an attempt to grab it had led to singed flesh and sharp pain. No matter. It was obvious what it said. The name SALT SOWER was written clearly on the outside in a graceful, feminine hand. The Masters would be interested to hear that another player had joined the game. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: "The Arcotiri"
Posted: 23 Aug 2009 09:41 AM |
The seer returned home fresh from the company of Talion, Ulalume and the elven sorceress called Ruby, and found Ula's letter in the tiny hands of his reptilian homunculus, who was twined among the glass vessels on his alchemical workbench.
Because of their psychical connection - the homunculus was a small version of Salt after all, and wore his face on its small draconian body - they shared everything that they each had learned while Salt hung up his traveling robes, stepped out of his clogs and into his leather slippers. In that way Salt was able to continue in his thoughts without catching up his companion.
He shook his head in exasperation. "It is a philosophical object," he stammered with bemused frustration. "The book of all magics... it is an exercise in arcane ethics. It doesn't exist in the world."
Salt bartered with his familiar: Ula's letter for a black wood-beetle as long as his thumb. "Thank you!" whispered the homunculus, and it pried off the carapace before sinking its needle-sharp teeth into his prize.
"I saw Slissayath today, at the trading post in Buckshire. One of them resisted my magics. I think it was one of the mage-slayers that I've been told about. Whatever this book actually is, if we are racing the Slissayath, we will need to be cautious."
Crunch-crunch... "But not too s-s-s-slow fellow, or you will lose the race!" The homunculus lectured between bites, shaking his finger at the seer, his creator.
The Slissayath want it... Salt thought to his companion, The Warlocks of Naillamne, the unfathomable Gathering... Even if it was only a possibility, any of them would pursue it.
"So it is-s-s at least a pos-s-s-sibility," whispers the hungry thing.
Melphus Benimen thinks it is real. Not to open it, he says. A real book then. But a book of all magics?
The homunculus had no answers, and only stared at the seer, wiping its mouth between bites. |
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about dying."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means lying in the ground with dirt on your face and holding your breath forever."
-Burt Reynolds, "The End" |
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Re: "The Arcotiri"
Posted: 23 Aug 2009 10:44 AM |
His whip crackled as he listened to what the small creature had to say.
"They seek the Tome. Many factions.The Slith, the Gathering, the mages of the Dark Tower, word has even reached the Collective. Rumors persist that the insane mage of Fenghuul has become intested in it, though that has yet to be seen.
The elf remained silent as if waiting for something else.
"As of yet they have taken no interest. I have seen however some of the operatives of your old guild recently."
The face of the elf turned to one of anger.
We shall keep watch on all of them. Bide our time. Refrain from anymore action against the group until I give the word. This Tome is the answer. I want to make sure we know where it is before we strike.
The creature bowed and scurried out to relay the orders. The elf quietly gathered some items and set off for Brandibuck. He had a meeting to attend to. One that would decide his next course of action. |
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Re: "The Arcotiri"
Posted: 29 Aug 2009 08:26 AM |
Water, that was the key.
When you've been brought back from the dead, you must drink copious amounts of water for at least three days following upon the disastrous event. More if you lay dead for a period of time before being raised up again. There is no better restorative than water.
The expedition had been rather ill-fated, but in the end it had produced a valuable clue. Salt read the inscription on the smashed oaken timbers, pieces of the Arcotiri he presumed. He committed them to memory with a glance, eyes guided by Talion and Ruby, and then he had burned the bit of wood to ashes with a cant of combustion. The place where kings are buried.** That would be their next objective.
The Slissayath had unearthed those timbers and were no doubt laying plans to reach the site that the inscription hinted at. When they arrived at the cavern there were only a few assassins left behind to harry the adventuring party. But the Naillamne, who battled the party at every turn as they moved up the Great River... there was no evidence that they had entered the cavern and seen what Salt and the others had seen.
Perhaps the Dark Tower had fallen behind in the race to reach this fabled book. And yet, other competitors had revealed themselves over the previous week. Others knew that these friends and companions were searching for the book. Obtaining it would not guarantee its security.
Thus, these three things occupied Salt's divisible mind simultaneously, each in its own compartment, as he poured draught after draught of Ladriel water for himself.
First, he remembered that he was not a hermit, an herbalist, an alchemist or a loremaster. He was a wizard. He had responsibilities to bring his magics to bear where and when they were needed. In the craggy canyon of the Great River, he had managed to ward a few companions and counter the spells of Naillamne's warlocks. He had grown quite fond of abjuration as he reached the proficiency and status of an archmage. Archmage... really! When it came to combatting Naillamne's forces, he had fumbled badly at every turn... allowing his body to be perforated by a dozen poisoned arrows at the eastern gates of Naillamne, relying utterly on the rest of his retinue to protect him...
If it were not for the rangers who crossed their track, first the half-orc called Frankie, and then the fortuitous arrival of Alton Highhill, they would have been slain to a one.
Preparation is not a matter of committing spells to memory. Salt drains another cup and methodically fills it again.
Second, what should be done with this artifact if and when it is recovered? Early on, each had opined about this issue: Talion, Ruby, Ulalume... Each agreed that it must be safeguarded, but none could say how. Salt himself was not even certain it should be found, and schemed for ways to ensure that it remained lost. Perhaps it was as simple as getting ahead of the Slissayath and obliterating all clues that his party could locate.
Underneath these thoughts and schemes lay a pernicious question: what is this book? All along the way up the Great River, the party had speculated, that is, when they were not arguing and bumping into one another as they mobbed along the rapids. The book had always posed a fascinating mystery, in the towers of magic and beyond to every thoughtful practitioner in the country.
Salt was not convinced that this mystery would be resolved, even if they managed to acquire this artifact. All was speculation; none, save perhaps for Melphus Benimen, had any conception of what they were actually looking for.
((**Darned if I didn't write this down, or save the log from this session. If someone wants to correct me, for the record, feel free!))
[moderators note: nah. stories are better when you mix them up with fact, outright lies, flights of fancy and just plain mis-rememberance.] |
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about dying."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means lying in the ground with dirt on your face and holding your breath forever."
-Burt Reynolds, "The End" |
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Re: "The Arcotiri"
Posted: 06 Sep 2009 11:59 AM |
The reptilian creatures continued their march. They seemed almost mechanical in their approach. Cutting down wave after wave of undead. Rarely have these monsters set foot within the realms of the undead. Their goal was paramount. None would stand in their way. Undead or living. Heores or villans. The sands of Kobai had turned into a battlefield, they were searching. In doing so they had angered the denizens of the desert. Now yet another had been drawn into the fray. Still yet they were not the true concern. Those of Kobai new it would only be a matter of time before Desthades and the Avatar of War would take note. This would no doubt rekindle the fued for the rule of all the undead.
This was not lost on the Sslith, they moved quickly. With haste they raided tombs and villages alike. Many of their kind fell, there were others to replace them.
The situation is getting worse. |
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Re: "The Arcotiri"
Posted: 29 Sep 2009 02:23 PM |
Valethrion walks into Salt's underground lair and peeks inside the filigree gate. He looks around, spots Oggie idling near Salt's alchemical supplies, and smirks. From his belt he untucks a scroll case, plain but sturdy, looks it over to make sure it's still sealed, and then tosses it into Salt's lair, towards the table and (hopefully) away from Oggie's wanderings.
It reads:
Salt,
Since we last gathered, I've taken another mission into Undraeth, and return with good news and bad.
First, the good. I've discovered a path that leads around the dragons entirely, so we can pray that they don't pick up our scent and track us out of their lair.
The bad news...Well, it comes in two parts. First, there is a lot of spider activity down there. Sentient activity, at that. They laid a devious trap for me: between the spider's cave above Undraeth and the floor of Undraeth itself is a staircase, and on this staircase was some sort of trap that stripped me of all my enchantments. Normally this doesn't not pose too much of a threat; however, if it were to happen at a crucial moment, or if it could interfere with our spellcasting along with our protective wards, we will have troubles.
Second, I have not seen any trace of anything significant. Elementals and shadow spiders guard Shademere, but of wreckage there is no sign. Of course, my search was very short, since I was there to scout only, but it's very dark down there, and it would have been impossible to search on my own.
Also, Talion's plan to sail from Tockticken won't work, on account of the fact that Tockticken is barred by a rockfall, and seems to be impassable. I wouldn't recommend trying to get through, but if you'd like I can escort you to the path so you can see for yourself.
We should gather our comrades again soon to discuss these things, as well as any alternatives they may have come up with.
I hope you've managed to stay safe, fellow.
-Valethrion |
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about dying."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means lying in the ground with dirt on your face and holding your breath forever."
-Burt Reynolds, "The End" |
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Re: "The Arcotiri"
Posted: 03 Oct 2009 11:11 AM |
"Well," Salt says to his companions... a wyrmling homunculus and a pesky myconid... "Valethrion has done his part. I suppose I should pull my weight as well."
In days past, he would have dictated a letter to his man Porter from Brandibuck Vale. These days however he is without the help of a secretary. His papers are a disorganized mess. "Tsk-tsk..." whispers his homunculus as he searches for a dignified piece of parchment, an ink stick and a decent quill pen that isn't crushed in the nib.
"Cork yourself in a bottle!" he replies to the little beast. Then he bundles up the curled paper, ink, pens, and everything else, and heads off to Winky's for a bowl of grog.
After slurping down the last of his mush - a gruel made from sheep's milk, crumbled bread, and a stiff shot of whiskey - Salt weights down the curly parchment and composes a letter:
* * * * *
To the Guardians of the Tower of Lake Ladriel~
Esteemed keepers of the Tower, allow me to share with you my thanks. For the recent discovery made among several volumes in your library, my Gratitude is hard to express. For this and many other favors, I hope that you will not hesitate to call on your servant should the need for my aid or labor arise.
This missive is ~ however ~ another request that the Ladriel Tower share from its wealth of knowledge.
You may have learned that the Atalan have surrendered their foothold in the Buckshire Woods far to the north, and retreated back to the depths of Undreath. Fearing the worst, several of my compatriots organize a journey to approach Undreath and the environs of Shademere.
It is said that there is a Lady of Ladriel in those dark depths, who cares for the wounded and operates a portal that will Transport the injured and the helpless to the very Tower of Ladriel.
In anticipation of great danger, my compatriots and I would know whether this portal is still maintained, and whether it might allow us to escape from those dark depths, should the need arise.
We would further know anything about the environs of the Shademere that you Guardians would share. Any advice will no doubt be of great benefit to our safe return.
Signed,
Your humble servant,
Salt Sower |
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about dying."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means lying in the ground with dirt on your face and holding your breath forever."
-Burt Reynolds, "The End" |
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