A Gnoment in Time, Part 10
Log Info
- Title: A Gnoment in Time, Part 10
- Emitter: Whirlpool
- Characters: Ravenstongue, Skielstregar, Paenitia, Dirk, Vaera, Lyme, Zyla
- Place: Thursday, November 10, 2022, 9:56 PM
- Time: Tuesday, November 22, 2022, 8:59 PM
- Summary: The adventurers are chased from the Felwood, pursued by shadows. Shots are fired, to little effect. Lyme and Zyla lead the way, as the shadows loom and take over the minds of Vaera, Paenitia and Dirk. Vaera stabs Skielstregar as he rescues her and Ramirez and riders, Dirk snaps out it, Paenitia remains lost. Ravenstongue taps into her fey blood and delays the shadows with a massive spell as the group escapes with some fascinating knowledge about what's happening to magic and the Felwood itself.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Ravenstongue 5'0" 99 Lb Half-Elf Female Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair. Skielstregar 7'2" 330 Lb Sith-Makar Male A brilliantly silver scale with fangs and empty eyes. Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. Dirk 4'11" 295 Lb Mountain Dwarf Male A rugged old dwarf, dressed for the outdoors. Vaera 7'0" 262 Lb Sith-Makar Female A tall, dark red Makari with a metallic leg. Lyme 7'2" 435 Lb Orc Butch Black-skinned oruch of suitable stature. Zyla 7'5" 310 Lb Giantborn Female Massive woman in simple clothing and robes. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= NPCs of Note =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Farland Gnome Male Associate of Griva, Resurrectionist, Wizard -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Whirlpool Otyugh I am stinky! -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Previously
The adventurers attempt to escape the Felwood. A flock of dark ravens descends, harrying them, pecking, attempting to steal Pothy away from Cor'lana. Their presence fills all with angry, malevolent feelings they struggle with in their own way. It is only Ravenstongue's great defiance and threats which finally drive the murder away. Though they do not go far, and their evil influence lingers and can be felt. What can't be felt is the curse of the Felwood. The particular spot the expedition finds itself in seems clear, purified. This will only attract worse things, and reprisals, and three of the party are still blind. A moment's ministration is taken, and sight is restored. They make their escape, Ramirez, carrying Paenitia, Farland, and a mini-Lyme, and later Farland. They get free of the woods. There are sounds of pursuit.
"It better not be another of those invisible creatures again." Vaera growls. "Are you sure no one has it out for you Farland? Because this is two in one day."
"I mean, there are plenty of people that have it out for me," answers Farland, "But I don't think it's any of them."
Cor'lana makes a 'tch' noise of frustration. "I can't figure out where exactly it is," she says. "But we /can't/ bring it back to the city."
Skielstregar tosses the reins up to Paenitia once she and the crew get their vision back. He makes a sort of... whining/concerned sound. "Ugh... thisss one /might/ be able to do ssssomething? Haven't practiced. But the magicsss here isss bad...!"
The others bring up good points...
Screw it. "Hmpf! Fine!" A hand wreathes in black ichor, the palm smearing across both his his eyes, leaving with it a black stain. "Show yourself, coward...!"
Eyes pulse a dull, ethereal silver.
It chooses not to.
Whatever it is hovers just beyond visible reach a moment longer. Then a little longer...
And then ... a flood of shadow begins crawling across the ground towards you. Shadow itself, stretching out long fingers...
Now
The darkness is roiling forward but it's just ... blackness descending on you. Not a mist or a cloud. Just roiling ebony.
Skielstregar isn't doing the best, draped and bound in bandages from before, them holding from the little lucht's work. "Uh... thisss one can't ssssee anything except dark..!" he informs, huffing out clouds of frost as taloned feet pound into the earth. "Jussst... we keep moving? We keep moving! Have to get out of thissss place!"
GAME: Paenitia rolls perception: (4)+6: 10 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "You don't see anything in the darkness you could magic missile."
"Darkness!" Paenitia says with cheerful surprise, laughing as she digs her heels in to get Ramirez moving. "Mages, now is the time for you to attack the darkness."
As her ivory steed leaps forward, following Skielstregar and heading away from the burgeoning barrier. A full plate visor does not lend itself to clear vision. "I do no see the useful targets."
"Quickly, quickly, Braver Ramirez, we go!"
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Overland Flight. Caster Level: 12 DC: 21
Now is the time. Something that pursues them... Something that could be brought home to Alexandria... Back home to Telamon. Cor'lana frowns deeply, but first things first, it's time to get some perspective.
An aerial perspective, that is.
She murmurs the incantation, and blue-violet gradient wings of magic flow out from her back, imitating the flapping of wings as she takes off the ground and into the sky. "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAH," Pothy yells at the top of his lungs. He's impressed!
"If we can attack it, but I think none of us are in any state for further fighting. Hence why I was trying to get everyone moving with some haste." The red makari growls, hoisting their thunderbelcher in one hand and turning to sprint off with the group. "I hope it has some limits to how far it can move from the forests, but I will not hold out hope, either."
Dirk's eyes get wide as literal -darkness- starts rolling towards them. His face turns white as milk. Even Lulu can only stare. She doesn't even become the vampirowl, so transfixed is she. "Hoo...?" Dirk blinks twice, then shares a look with his pet. "NnnnOPE!" He turns and motivates his tubby ass, one hand over his tricorne as he runs for his ever-loving life.
The cloud seems to shatter behind you.
Shatter into a a dozen smaller orbs of darkness which are gaining on you, slowly. Their images shimmer and shift, taking on the characteristics of men on horseback -- men on winged horses with blazing, flaming eyes.
You know. The stuff of nightmares.
Skiel looks back as the others bolt off in their various manners. "Thisss one cannot make another ssstand," he huffs and puffs, crashing through a tree branch. "Be ssssure to stay together!"
He could summon Voarexautha? No, that'd take too much time. And the others are far too fast. The steed is grand but not that grand. Expedite himself? Then he'd leave Vaera in the dust. Fell a tree with one big smash? No, it'd make the forest even more upset than it is now.
"Grrrr...."
<OOC> Paenitia says, "well I'm for running/flying too, and possibly shooting at them with arrows. will k/military theory help with guessing when a good time to take a stand is, either from geographic features or the party in danger of getting spread out <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Each one of them has a 90 base flying speed, I believe some of you are slower than that, yes. :)" <OOC> Whirlpool says, "You can find a way to increase the base speed of the others, or try to find a place to make a stand." <OOC> Whirlpool says, "(Or other solutions!)" <OOC> Paenitia says, "I have group stealth but not group move faster. hmmm." GAME: Paenitia rolls knowledge/military theory: (12)+11: 23 GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon1-8: (12)+15+-8: 19, "-8 penalty for Ramirez running" GAME: Paenitia rolls damage1: aliased to 1d6+1: (2)+1: 3 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Aiming for a horse? You hit."
"Farland, hold tight. Use the straps." Paenitia advises, taking up her bow and pulling out an arrow. "Ramirez, quickly quickly! They move fast."
The shadowy figures are swift, and as they coalesce they become tempting targets. She turns in the saddle, draws back, looses an arrow.
It flies true, striking a shadow horse.
"They will be on us soon. Try run down hill you will go faster. We need the good place to make the stand."
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Casting haste on the gang and continuing to move, now at 80 ft/turn with Haste." GAME: Ravenstongue casts Haste. Caster Level: 12 DC: 19
The bewinged sorceress notices the shadowy figures advancing. Cor'lana purses her lips in thought. "Okay, well, we're not in the Felwood anymore," she says to herself, and she weaves a familiar spell in her hands--
A quickening spell, spurring her friends and allies onward. "That won't be enough for everyone," she says, "but... It'll buy us time, perhaps." She continues to soar in the sky.
Lyme draws out a vial from his belt pouch, and pours it over his sword as the shadows ride down on them. The blade glows with a white light, but before he can do anything heroic, he turns and runs after Skiel, enjoying the magical burst of speed.
Dirk feels the familiar touch of Cor'lana's magic, lightening his feet and granting him speed. "Thanks, lass!" he hollers towards the sky. He zooms forward, moving faster than any dwarf ever zoomed before. That's even including on Kegger Night, which is truly a sight to behold? Have -you- ever witnessed the Running of the Dwarves on Kegger Night?
Vaera picks up the pace with the magical enhancement to their speed, hoping to at least create some distance before the spell wore off. The red makari looks back for a moment, before continuing to run. "It at least means we will not be fallen upon yet, but I fear we will be forced to fight them at some point."
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "OKay. Since the shadows are fall behind now thanks to your various speeds..." <OOC> Whirlpool says, "They're going to try to do something else." <OOC> Whirlpool says, "WILL SAVES, EVERYONE!" <OOC> Paenitia says, "My banner gives +3 to everyone if it's a fear effect I believe" GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (20)+12: 32 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) GAME: Lyme rolls will: (16)+5: 21 GAME: Skielstregar rolls will: (14)+6: 20 GAME: Paenitia rolls will: (12)+4: 16 GAME: Vaera rolls will: (9)+4: 13 GAME: Dirk rolls Will: (1)+4: 5 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Zyla rolls will: (3)+7: 10
Zyla stops in her tracks and moans.
Dirk's breakneck pace coasts to a halt. His eyes go wide and staring, his face turns white as his beard. "Wha...?" Lulu flutters up off his shoulder, hoo-hoo'ing worriedly as her master drops to his knees. "But... how...?" His thunderbelcher drops from his grip and he lifts his hands, cowering away. "No! It wasn't me! I didn't do it! IT'S NOT MY FAULT!" he wails in a broken tone. He drops onto his rump, his tricorne tipping off his head as he curls his arms over his head. He rocks back and forth, heartbroken sobs wracking his burly frame. "It wasn't me, it wasn't me, it wasn't me," he whimpers.
Ramirez... stops.
He's not sure why. His mistress is no longer commanding him, by shifts in weight, words and coos.
She's lost in a dream, or rather, awakening from one. A heroic dream, of adventure, against great, oversized odds, full of joy and bringing mirth wherever she went.
To reality. To being trapped with her family where every day is the same as the last, and a little worse. Where things will never get better... just end. In despair. In death.
It felt so real! Except she has never escaped imprisonment. It is the Lord's dungeon, which holds her and her family. There is no escape, only punishment. Only the inevitable slog to the end.
Everything feels so wrong. "I am sorry Mama, I cannot pretend to laugh anymore."
Vaera's running stumbled for a moment, only to return at a much more frantic, panicked pace. And then, they stopped. Their thunderbelcher had been stowed away to move quicker, yet they reached to take their bow instead, already knocking an arrow to it.
"Perhaps you require another warning, savages." The red makari snarls at no one in particular. "This one will leave your skulls dripping from the tree branches, yet that will pale to what is in store for knife earred murderers."
The flies true at almost double head's height, and the hunter is already pulling a dagger out of their coat as they stalk closer towards the tree it lodged itself into. <draconic>
Lyme turns around, moving to guard Vaera.
GAME: Skielstregar casts Enlarge Person. Caster Level: 9 DC: 13
Skiel's feet continue pounding into the ground, further aided by Cor'lana's magical alacrity. Aha! Distance! We can make it! We can-
The shining makari suddenly falls face first into the ground, shining halberd clattering against a tree and skirting off into the underbrush. Dark ichor starts pouring out betwixt his scales as talons rip into the dirt.
"YeSsSsSsS!" he sibilantly hisses in victory, holding up a mound of earth. "FiNalLy! GiVe Me UnTo YoUr FlEs-"
The pooling ichor beside him shifts, then manifests the familiar halberd as it >CLANGS< against the side of his skull. Skiel tumbles back, rolling, then scrabbles to his feet. Eying the others stopping and groveling in various manners. "W-Wha- uh- oh- AaaaAAH! LISTEN HERE, DAMN YOU, I AM THE ONE WHO IS DRIVING THIS SSSWIFTCLAW!" he yells at himself, fist punching the side of his head as ichor surrounds his body. "BIG. NOW!"
He swells in size. Fourteen feet tall and over a ton of muscle.
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Activating Blood Pact - Knowledge Surge. Damaging myself for 3 nonlethal damage to gain use of Widen Metamagic. I will cast Fireball with Widen Metamagic, which increases it to a 40 ft radius spread--going to try and grab 2 of the shadow creatures if I can. DC is 20." <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "(also casting a 6th level spell to expend the slot.)" GAME: Ravenstongue casts Disintegrate. Caster Level: 12 DC: 22 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 10d6: (26): 26
There's a look that's an awful mixture of horror and absolute agony in Cor'lana's violet eyes as something takes hold of her, her hand reaching out, a scream ready to rip from her mouth--
But then the light returns to her eyes, the presence of mind there once again on the wind that's carrying her forward. And all of her friends and comrades that are now stopped in place. "The Tyrant couldn't make me kneel," she hisses, her violet-blue wings flapping in place as though to boldly declare who and what she is. "Neither will you. Pothy!"
The white raven on Cor'lana's shoulder blinks, but he seems to understand what she means as she raises a hand. He bites into her hand--hard enough to draw blood--and the sorceress presses her bloodied palm to the curuchuil on her chest. Both the mark and her eyes glow softly, and she lifts her hand away to see the wound close rapidly--the blood giving way to fire instead.
"Grandfather, watch me take flight like you," she whispers like a prayer--her voice full of hope as the flames gather in front of her, blazing higher than they ever have. Then she cries out as she thrusts her hands forward, releasing the fireball to chase away the shadows. <Sylvan>
The Feathered One's child will not falter.
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Everyone who failed last round may make a new will save." GAME: Paenitia rolls will: (7)+4: 11 GAME: Vaera rolls will: (11)+4: 15 GAME: Dirk rolls Will: (20)+4: 24 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Dirk breaks free angrily! Vaera and Paen are still trapped."
Farland slumps forward. "There's nothing left, nothing left at all. It's all gone..."
The shadows descend, their forms distending, changing further. A winged figure, a terrible flying lizard with black claws and blacker eyes, burbling eldritch abomination of many eyes and mouths, a thing of darkness covered in some kind of barnacles, it's body burbling like water. The closer they get, the more 'real' they seem, like they're feeding on your fears.
A fear which is all consuming. Paenitia is imprisoned, there was no escape, no life of resistance, no tilting against the oppressor. She never escaped, never hatched a hippogryph and a cunning plan, never returned to rescue her family, never led them to liberation and success in a different land. The joy was never restored to their eyes. Her escapades as a free wheeling knight were naught.
Sister Paenitia Snapdragon does not exist. Prisoner Paenitia does, locked inside an adamantine maiden in a dungeon without light, without hope, without purpose. It would have been better if she had never been.
GAME: Skielstregar rolls athletics: (18)+17: 35 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "PAen, being disrupted like that gives you another will save." GAME: Paenitia rolls will: (6)+4: 10 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Nerp. Poor traumitized Paen!" <OOC> Paenitia says, "I can always roll under"
Massive Skielstregar's slow beating heart is racing, things seemingly getting out of hand as the seconds tick by. He's got a good vantage, watching Rameriez slow as his Paladina and Farland succumb to the fears. Vaera, her actions playing on something they've spoken of in the past. Cor'lana's rebuttal with fire and sneer.
Magruim. That's what that winged lizard was right? Or least...
Dead eyes look down at the halberd. Life filled ones meet his. He whispers to the reflection, "What do I do?"
The reflection mouths back.
Surprise lances across his face before the weapon twirls itself back into its frog. Shaking his head off, both massive arms reach down. One picking Vaera up in his whole hand. The other wrapping around handsome Rameriez. "Warrior Rameriez! Keep them on you!" he instructs before he barrels through the woods with bounding steps.
'Ruaaaak!' Ramirez squawks as he is picked up. This does not happen. He is a great and heavy bird-horse. And a well trained one at that. He doesn't struggle, he tucks up his legs and raises his folded wings so they are rails for his back. His mistress and the gnome will be safe. His long tail-train bounces with the sith'makar's running gait.
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (10)+22: 32 <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Ok. I'm going to attempt something since it seems like it's probably not immune..." <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Casting Hold Monster. DC is 25 (robes of arcane heritage)." GAME: Ravenstongue casts Hold Monster. Caster Level: 12 DC: 23 <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Going to keep moving otherwise. 80 ft of flying." GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d20+11: (20)+11: 31 (Shadows resist) <OOC> Whirlpool says, "RT sees a vision of her grandpa just wagging a finger at her. DISAPPOINTING." <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "GRANDPA I'LL DO BETTER NEXT TURN ;_;"
The flying sorceress curses quietly under her breath as the glow in her eyes and her curuchuil fade away, the gift of her ancestor's blood pact spent. "It's the curse on the Felwood! Because we damaged it, it's trying to get us! /Don't/ let it touch you!" Cor'lana bellows to the people below. "I'll try to hold it in place!"
The magic gathers in her hands again. It's a shimmering, ethereal thing that befits the one casting it--but as she releases it at the awful collective of illusion, it's clear that it has no effect.
"Gotta fall back," Cor'lana murmurs as she flies off, putting distance between herself and the shadows.
Lyme follows Skielstregar.
Zyla follows Lyme.
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "Vaera, new will save. Since you got bodily hauled." GAME: Vaera rolls will: (18)+4: 22 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Skiel takes some damage. Roll damage, Vaera!" <OOC> Whirlpool says, "Vaera breaks free, however, after the stabbin'." <OOC> Skielstregar says, "dr 1/- !" GAME: Vaera rolls 1d4+1: (1)+1: 2
Veara twists and writhes when she is pulled up and away by Skielstregar, and at one moment, jams the dagger they were holding into their arm, only to find it barely going through any scales.
That wasn't right. That was it, their muscles and strength had already wasted away, they were not back in the past. The red makari blinks, and drops their head. There wasn't anything they could say, or wished to say in that moment.
<OOC> Whirlpool says, "DIRK DOES NOT GO GENTLY INTO THE NIGHT" <OOC> Skielstregar says, "rt said to not let them touch you, everyone is running at present" <OOC> Skielstregar says, "you crit saved out" <OOC> Whirlpool says, "You saved, and are able to act." <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "It's sort of one big collective." <OOC> Dirk says, "All right, then. Full attack on the darkness." GAME: Dirk rolls shoot: aliased to Ranged+1-2: (1)+12+1+-2: 12 (EPIC FAIL) <OOC> Dirk says, "Bullshit." <OOC> Dirk says, "I'll reroll that." GAME: Dirk rolls shoot: aliased to Ranged+1-2: (16)+12+1+-2: 27 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot-5: aliased to Ranged+1-2-5: (4)+12+1+-2+-5: 10 GAME: Dirk rolls shoot: aliased to Ranged+1-2: (2)+12+1+-2: 13 GAME: Dirk rolls dmg: aliased to 1d12+4+1: (12)+4+1: 17 <OOC> Whirlpool says, "You shoot your missile into the darkness, of course." [WhirlChan] Skielstregar is reminded of that video where someone says 'I magic missile the darkness!'
Dirk is lost in his vision of misery. Maybe he's given up. Maybe he's ready to let it all end, right here, right now. But then, Lulu flutters down to land on his shoulder. "Hoo? Hoo-oo!" she hoots, leaning in to nuzzle against his cheek. His sobs trail off into hiccups, and he blinks his eyes. He looks around to see his friends fleeing, and the curse of the Felwood closing in. Fire kindles in him, burning away the sorrow and restoring his courage. His heart may belong to the forest and the green growing things. But Reos forged his heart out of steel, and it is unbreakable. He picks up his thunderbelcher and rises, racking the slide with a snarl. "-No-. Not today, ye bastard shite. NOT TODAY!" He swings up his weapon and sights down the barrel. Hastened by Cor'lana's magic, he becomes a flurry of rapid-fire rage. CHK-BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! His bullets fly into the inky black, tearing into the curse's integrity. "COME GET SOME!" he roars.
Between the harm done and the ever increasing distance between the Felwood and itself, the cloud itself seems to dissipate as it chases towards you in your flight, losing integrity before wasting away in the rising light of the sun.
You've survived, with some fascinating knowledge about what's happening to magic and the Felwood itself.
... but Farland is definitely not going to be feeling well for a while.
... and some adventurers may never again.
OOC
Whirlpool pages: You're alone. Suddenly, alone. Wait, weren't you always? It's like waking up from a dream itself. You had a dream of adventure, of being a knight, of being full of joy, but instead, you're in the dungeon, the same dungeons members of your family were in. You never left. You were alwayus here. It's all been a dream, a wonderful dream, but now it's over and there's only punishment to look to. It feels wrong -- you kmow it's wrong -- that dream of adventure was so *real*... buit you aren't quite sure what's real.