Gabe3e

Entry #32 (18 Ches): Choosing the Lesser of Two Evils!
With my trusty surge selector in effect, I was confident that two surge choices would be enough for me to risk three consecutive unleashings of quickened Nahal’s spells. But as the third time is a charm, on the third casting (where a maralith had just come up to engage me) my choices of Greater Surges consisted of: taking a huge hit to my Intelligence (losing access to some spells I had worked hard to memorize), or subjecting one of my treasured magic items to permanent disjunction. I took the first choice—temporarily—and used my nifty ‘no place like home’ slippers to jump to safety, and shortly after altered that brain-numbing surge. Not only did my gifted intelligence return, but the acid storm I had intended to unleash on those two maraliths was successful!

Ches 15 - 18, 1358DR
[Game of October 24th, 2004]

Split into two groups, the party went half to Waterdeep and half to
Zazzespur. In Waterdeep, they hired a sage to dig up information on
the portal to Sigil in the Dales, and how to fare well in Sigil.

The portal was inside a wizard’s tower, near Haptooth Hill in the lordship
of Battledale. The party used Kouraf’s portal to transport there. Upon
arrival, they discovered that Dracandros was a Red Wizard. He asked
for 1000gp in diamond dust per user of the portal, or alternatively,
a 500gp onyx each.

The party returned to Waterdeep and purchased the gems, returning the
next day. The wizard allowed them usage of the portal, and they arrived
in the busy streets of Sigil.

After some mingling, they found a tiefling, who agreed to find them a
portal into the Abyss for 1000gp/day. They agreed, and the next day she
brought them into a smithy where the portal resided. The party went in…

… soon finding themselves falling, in the dark, being pelted by
acid rain. Henrietta activated her power to fly, and everyone else
casts spells to protect them from the acid.

However, unable to fly, all but Rowan and Henrietta plunged into an
ocean of acidic blood. G’Kar immediately sank, but managed to surface
again. They gathered around Lyta, and she cast Greater Teleport to reach
the flesh room.

Still in the dark, Rowan sensed the precense of multi-armed snake women,
and a medium humanoid creature chained to the wall.

The darkness didn’t last long, as Kalcryx pulled out his horned embued
with celestial light, supressing the deeper darkness.

The Maraliths erected barries of whirling blades and closed in for the
kill. Jaran rolled away, and cast Wages of Sin. One of the Maraliths
turned on its companions.

Henrietta bound the spirit of the giant, and drove Alurik deep into the
Maralith’s flesh. Kalcryx’s engaged one of the demons with his Holy
guisarm, while G’Kar attemped to dispels one of many blade barriers
encircling them.

Lyta dimension doored away, and geared up to blast the demons with spells.

One of the Mariliths fell, and another teleported away, seeking
reinforcements. Henrietta, seeing an opportunity, accelerated herself
through time and ran to unshackle Thorar Silverhands. Rowan, now alone
with a demon, blasted down columns of Mielekki’s fire.

With Thorar freed, and a Maralith returning with reinforcements, the
group decided to leave. Kalcryx dispelled a blade barrier, enabling
Jaran to run through and dimension door Gkar next to Thorar. Kalcryx
and Rowan remained trapped by the blades.

Henrietta, readying her bag, accelerated herself through time again and
lunged through the temporally halted blades. “Rowan! Get in the bag! It’s
the only way to get out of here, please Rowan!” she pleaded.

Rowan would have none of it, and flew around Henrietta, seeking a break
in the wall. However, Henrietta took advantage of Rowan’s distraction,
and enveloped him in the bag.

A large flaming beast was heard moving towards the flesh room. A Balor,
they conjectured. Henrietta, again, accelerated through time with Rowan
and rejoined the party.

The bag was shaken.

Kalcryx jumped through the last barrier, the blades cutting deep into him.
Henrietta released Rowan, and Kalcryx used Plane Shift to return to
the Prime.

They arrived at the foothills of a mountain range to the North, a forest
visible to the south.

Ches 12 - 15, 1358DR
[Game of Oct 17th, 2004]

Henrietta join, minor trip to Hell.

Friends, let me tell you the tale of my blessed weapon, the Mighty Dwarventhrower. Drink of your ale, sit and listen, and enjoy my Dwarven tale of valor, battle and great deeds.

I will tell you that I was overjoyed when the Clangeddin High Priest, Thorar Silverhand, bestowed unto me the blessed Dwarventhrower (of course, at considerable cost in gold pieces–but then again, such a relic is not for sale to the general public). The hammer performed amazingly well–I could throw it at my enemies and it would return to me so that I might rend more flesh from afar. And in close range, I could decimate my enemies with surprising speed.

Over the many months that I possessed this relic, I have become closer to it, and when I was deprived of it recently (a dragon had stolen it from me when I was prone), I could not think of anything else besides my hammer. Every weapon I used was a meager replacement, a poor substitution.

My good friends, trusted companions and fellow solders agreed to help me recover my weapon. We learned that the hammer was located in a Black Dragon’s lair–in fact not just one dragon, but a family of them!

We faced the youngster and vanquished him, not without great effort, and felt flush with victory until out of the cave stepped his father. After regrouping, we returned and vanquished him, again with great effort and sacrifice. Then, we faced his mate.

We chased her into her lair, but the tunnel of the cave was long. Kalcryx and I felt our Righteous Might fade and Jaran’s speed spell wane. We stood before the huge creature feeling weak and naked. But my determination to re-aquire my precious hammer overcame my fear of the beast. And my companions stood by me and fought bravely.

We wore the dragon down, and finally she attempted to bargain with us. She demanded an exchange of a magic item for our lives. Lyta made our feelings about that bargain known by fireballing the great winged beast.

After much brave fighting, I found myself in her clutches, unable to move. The dragon roasted me in her powerful acid breath, and then threatened to do it again if we did not bargain. “Will you raise my mate and leave my lair?”

I told her, “It depends. Let me have my hammer and we can talk.” “Raise my partner, leave my lair, and I’ll drop the dwarf.”

Lyta has amazing powers of communication, the magely ability to whisper, across distance, into each of our ears. She had bestowed this ability on each of us prior to the fight. She then used to it ask, “Should I attack the dragon?” With my life hanging by a thread, I instinctively said, “No,” thinking that I might be able to have my hammer back and leave, such a powerful draw it has on me. But upon quick reflection, I realized that my life was forfeit in the case because no dwarf, elf or man, right with Law and Goodness should ever bargain with a creature so vile and evil. “Yes!” I shouted, and the others agreed. Lyta attacked, and the dragon breathed on me and put out my life.

I stood in a gigantic cave, whose walls were too distant to see. A great river flowed before me, and a ferryman waited for me, his dwarven beard braided neatly. He gestured that I should step into the ferry. I could make out great clouds on the other side of the massive body of water.

I hesitated. The dwarf, dressed in shining white armor bearing the seals of Clangeddin and Moradin eyed me. “You are not yet ready to cross the great river,” he said to me. “Behold,” and he pointed in a direction behind me.

I looked over my shoulder and saw that the mist surrounding me moved together to form a circle. The center of the circle was like a mirror, but I could see shapes beyond. In the visions I could make out Kalcrix paying a powerful looking cleric and I heard the words “Resurrection Most True.”

“Your companions call to you,” the boatsman said behind me. “You may take the boat, however, if you wish.”

“There is much work to be done, especially in the name of Clangeddin,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. “My friends call to me. But also my mission, and my hammer.”

“Thy hammer.” I turned to look at the boatsman, but he looked differently now. He was taller, and his beard had become the most silver I had ever seen. I realized I was looking at Clangeddin himself, who had in his massive hand my warhammer. AND IT SEEMED TO BE CALLING TO ME.

“Take me. Take me, for there is much work to be done,” the hammer seemed to say. “The land is overrun with evil, dreaded Banite evil. We must bring order back to the land. We must bring goodness back to the land. We must make the caves safe again for our people. We must unite the humans and the elves against this threat.”

My Great God made to give my warhammer to me. I reached out and took it.

I awoke in a bed with spartan furnishings, my beard and long hair completely clean. Across my chest was my warhammer, and my arms were folded around it. Kalcrix stood before me, smiling. “Welcome back friend. You now have your hammer.”

Lyta stood beside him. “I really hope that hammer was worth all the gold we spent bringing you back. I mean really, a family of black dragons!”

I was glad to be alive again. I stood up, despite my nakedness, held my hammer on high and shouted, “We have work to do! Woe be unto the Banites who have deceived us, woe be unto them and their children, who dare to invade our lands, rape our women and dominate our cities! Woe be unto Amn and all those who side with her! Clangeddin himself has charged me to rid the land of this evilness!”

A few days after my resurrection, we engaged in a battle right in the halls of the enemy. My old friend Murdock (quite unwhittingly) had left us a scroll which would take us to this very place. We vanquished two very powerful-looking armored figures almost at once, since we had the element of surprise on our side. The battle raged. A whole phalanx of clerics throw evil magic at us, but with the help of our powerful mages, Lyta and Jaran, they were vanquished. Then we fought a mage possessing power I have not witnessed anywhere else.

The unfortunate thing is, really, my choice of shield. At one point in the battle I had to drop my beloved, newly acquired hammer to read a scroll. My shield is too large for me to hold a scroll and defend myself, so i had to get a free hand. And I almost lost my hammer! The powerful mage cast meteors and fireballs at the same time. My hammer took terrible damage because I could not protect it. Luckily, it held together. In retrospect, I could almost hear its cries, but I dismissed it at once as mid-battle stress.

The meteors proved too much for Gwynn and Kalcryx, and both fell. Fortunately, Blessed, Holy and Righetous Clangeddin had bestowed upon me a special healing spell, but I had to use it quickly. Having to choose between Gwynn and Kalcryx was difficult, but tactically, it made sense to bring Kalcryx back. So, without hesitation, I ran to his body and caught him as he fell, and with the Power of Clangeddin, restored his life force.

Lyta had finished off the last of them, but the mage had got away. We left the great hall via mage magic. Jaran cast a spell and at once we were enshrouded in shadows, walking across country at amazing speed. It never fails to take my breath away. We emerged from the magical shadows into a busy city street of Waterdeep. I think Jaran had mentioned this city to me before, but only in passing. But she seemed to know it fairly well.

We firstly bought a similar service for Gwynn and brought her back from the dead. We then went about other business and then entered an inn in the evening.

That night I had an amazing dream. I stood at the side of the great river again. But instead of my Great Lord Clangeddin, my hammer floated in front of me. It spoke to me in a magical voice that only I could understand. It told me of the great things we can do together. “Yes!” I shouted above the roar of the mighty river. Then I reached out to take it. It moved back.

“Thou must nay set me down nor allow me to part from thee, ever again. If thou doeth, thou wilst never be the same again. Thou wilst be greatly weakened.” I moved toward it saying, “And saddened beyond all measure. I promise, that shall never happen again.” I reached out once more.

Moving further back out of my reach, it sang in its musical voice, “Thy shield, thou shalt do better. Look into the hold thou hast collected from the Banites with whom thou didst do battle. Thou must have a hand free, and never set me down again. Take me to Erum that I might be mended.”

“Yes. A new shield. You shall be protected.” With that, I grasped the hammer and awoke.

I rose, picked up my hammer, and turned it over in my hands. I noted the pits and etching it had sustained from the battle. A tear rolled down my face as I imagined the horror of losing this precious relic. “Never again,” I vowed.

Ches 9 - 12, 1358DR
[Game of Oct 16th, 2004]

post downtime discussion and accomplishing things.

Entry #31 (5 Ches 1358DR)—To AR or not to AR?

As you—that is to say…I—know, I find great solace in immortalizing certain experiences in your humble pages. Those moments for which my beloved incantation allows me to manipulate certain events which have the most dire consequences…the curse of course being that I alone bear the burden of remembering those dire consequences, and am looked upon with disdain and disbelief when I relay them. Thus I have no one with whom I can contemplate or commiserate whose odd set of circumstances. I relay them instead to this journal for my own sanity—to prove that I at least have a record of my own deeds, nay history itself rejects it.

Therefore I find this a very fitting venue to express my despair over my current situation. I once again, alone, am experiencing dire consequences, and must struggle within myself, as on one else will truly understand these truly odd set of circumstances. But I am getting ahead of myself, as how the circumstances that led me to her are as important as the consequences after that.

Being alone, after all, is not a novelty to me. It was a welcome solitude, for I had few others who would interrupt my pursuit of controlling the chaos in The Weave…of manipulating the life Energies coursing through my fingertips. I had lived nearly 2 and 40 rotations with that ambition as my comfort. Until one fateful day in the forest (was it Mystra even then guiding me?), where I was surrounded by Orcs until a band of disheveled and queer adventurers rushed to my aid. Did the Lady also create the odd circumstances that turned these brave, albeit somewhat overly bold, mercenaries into convicts, who were forced into service? That I should be thrust into traveling with these outcasts…?

And stranger still was the effect my close contact with these comrades (though I certainly didn’t find them so at the time) should have on my life. I began to understand why the whole-humans congregate into settlements, and travel in small groups. There is wisdom in having someone to protect you, heal you, pick you up when you fall. I even found myself craving that comradery…. How truly odd.

In an increased respect for them, I became aware of how each also had a dependence on a higher being. At first I naturally found this foolish, for I had no dependence on Rillifane Rilifil—merely a respect for His creations in the Wood and Water. He had no direct bearing on my pursuits, no hand-crafted lairs to His name, no services or Patriarchs. As it should be, I had thought.

But as I began to see wisdom in friendships, I began to wonder what was aspiring such devotion in my own friends towards their own patrons. I have daily watched my colleague Gwynn Asthunson lay aside her own ambitions for the will of The Lady, and admittedly I would again find this foolish…if it were not for Jaran—for whom I have great respect—pay her tribute to the very same God…and in even grander ways. That one who herself is skilled in conjuring powerful spells, should still ask for guidance and help? Why would she need The Lady’s help, since she was already so able on her own?

I have frequently visited the temples of Mystra, commissioning wondrous items of the finest magic, and all the while seeing how the faith of these spellcasters has aided their command over The Energies. I had grow tired of always being the outcast—watching at the glass from outside. How odd it would be, then, that in my growing desire to become accepted into this world, I should be banished from it at the same time.

Why I write this in my alternate reality journal is, as I stated, quite fitting, as the 10-days that have followed I have heard many tell me “perhaps it was a huge mistake to convert to Mystra”.

If I had the ability to alter THIS reality—would I?

Though I admit I am suffering greatly at the loss of that exhilarating rush of raw magical energy from my hands, in removing my access to The Weave, She has proven herself to me. I never once saw a direct intervention of Rillifane in my life, and yet the very day I swear my devotion to Mystra She makes her existence known to me in the most profound way possible. I must, then, do the same, and prove myself to her. As there is no longer any doubt in my mind that She exists, I will trust in The Lady’s plans for me.

Oh, but what I wouldn’t give for a good Nahal’s right now…

Dredging Up Fond Memories

Waterdeep.

A city of wonders. Tall buildings crowding so close not even a slip of parchment could fit between. Merchants selling every delicacy and bauble, catering to every vice. The city glows for miles around as the night grows dark, with lovers strolling the wide, paved roads, and revelry loud into the early morning hours.

The familiar smells wash over me as I stand in the marketplace; the unwashed hordes, the heavily perfumed lords, the searing flesh of some unidentifiable skewered meat, the gritty tang of wet stone. And yet, to me it seems all a facade over the seedy underbelly, where dealings are done in shadow, short motions, and hushed tones. Where all are welcome, with enough coin or the right phrase. The city a mile beneath Waterdeep’s surface, Skullport.

Stumbling through the gates, unnoticed amongst the crowds swelling through the streets, I fell into petty thievery to feed myself. I quickly caught the notice of a thieves’ guild, for in Waterdeep there is room for more than just one. My master was kindly, at the start, and the marks on the surface were easy. Gold flowed through my hands like water. Eventually my master became too kindly. I managed to avoid his advances for a while. When he became insistent, I went where all rogues flee for safety in the city.

Below Waterdeep, the marks were not so easy. Suspicious and hunted, the people skulk along the edges of the narrow streets. Those who stroll casually along such roads are frequently the most dangerous, their gait showing a cat-like grace and menace twinkling in their eyes.

I became sloppy. Faint with hunger, desperate for coin, I tried to cut the purse of a short, hooded figure. She was slight in build, but her hand had a wirey strength behind it as she clamped down upon my wrist. Her eyes burned red in the dimness of the vast cavern as she scrutinized me. I fell limp, hoping she’d leave me in the streets and move on. I had to stifle my surprise when I was lifted into her arms, carried through the streets to a small, unassuming storefront.

If it was not for that Eilistraean, I would still be there, my hatred nourished in the darkness, fed by the constant stream of debauchery and crime that prevails there.

She must be dead by now. Surely someone of that nature could not survive the Skullport streets for long.

Alturiak 9 - 9 Ches, 1358DR
[downtime]

bork.

8-9 Alturiak, 1358DR
[Game of October 2, 2004]

KC scryed on Gaelon, and various Message spells were cast through
the mirror. Gaelon didn’t reply, but they could see him resting,
thoughful looking, in his bed at his house.

Much discussing ensued about how to burn 30 ships.

They did a Sending to a dragon asking for help, and the dragon asked
for them to come in person. Jaran remembered her lair at the bottom
of Firedrake bay. They TPd to Stormaxe, G’Kar’s dwarven city in the
starspire to pick up the Lifebringer, Kalcryx’s broken sword (thanks,
Tronk), since the dragon refered to KC as “wielder of the sword of
life”. Erum was left in Stormaxe.

They TPd to the dragon’s lair, and Gwynnedh rolled a 35 on her
Diplomacy, convincing the dragon to aid them in destroying the shipyard.
The dragon’s hoard was mysteriously absent, and after noting that
“the seas will rise and the ships will sink on the morrow”, the dragon
suddenly let out a cry and died.

Much bafflement occured. They TPd back to Athkatla, and Rowan was
assigned to shadow Gaelon until something interesting happened. Lyta and
Jaran snuck around the city, trying to divine on the Banite temple. They
were stopped by Banite guards, but Jaran managed to bluff her way out
of it.

The night went by uneventfully.

On the morrow, Jaran climbed up to the roof and watched the docks. It
seemed an overly windy day, and as time passed it started hailing and
a hurricane formed in the bay. Ships rocked and people ran around like
crazed ants.

A tail emerged out of the water and smashed a ship hull. Soon, a
collosal figure, glowing in radiant light, flew out of the water and
began perforating ships by flying through them. Lyta did a little dance.

They read a scroll of Word of Recall they had picked up off the body
of the Imperceptor, a high ranking Banite leader. They arrived on the
altair of a Banite cathedral.

Much fighting ensued. The Banites cast Unholy Blight, Horrid Wilting,
Meteor Swarm and Blasphemy. Jaran and Lyta leveled the guards and clerics
with Firebrand while Gkar/Kc/Gwynnedh killed the leaders in melee.

Gwynnedh died, and Kalcryx died, but Kc was Revivified by Gkar. Three
Banites got away. By the time they got to Gwynnedh, it was too late.

Lyta cast Finger of Death on the last Banite standing, and he fell
over dead.

There was much looting and experience. Everyone rejoiced.