Gabe3e

Love, Hate, Vengeance, Magic

January 30, 2005

Jaran: Words of Doubt - 15 Tarsakh, 1358

Filed under: Jaran: Words of Doubt — Yamara @ 10:19 pm

The Year of Shadows Darkens

Gods walk Toril’s cold, hard earth. Their folly has tossed the world into chaos. Everything we thought unchanging has twisted into shapes made only more disturbing by their familiarity. Forests filled with grotesque and blackened trees hunger for blood. The dead roam more freely, unsettled and numerous.

Mystra is slain.

Apparently the Gods can be just as foolish as the rest of us. She thought to challenge Helm in his task as guardian of the Celestial Stairway. The only god still flush with his power, Helm smote Mystra mightily, sundering her flesh in twain.

A faint glimmer in an amulet and an obnoxious young human female is all that remains of any hope for magic.

Tyranny Unchained

Filed under: Summaries — Gabriel Rosa @ 2:32 am

14-15 Tarsakh, 1358 DR
[Game of January 30th, 2005]

chained statues puzzle
midnight and kalcryx
fighting bane at castle kilgrave
freeing mystra, geases lifted from mystrans
mystra gates, helm slices mystra
geases lifted from helmites
dead magic zone

Click below for full summary
(more…)

January 23, 2005

Lyta’s Alternate Reality– Entry #44

Filed under: Lyta's Alternate Reality — Tracia Barbieri @ 9:28 am

Entry 44 (14 Tarsahk, 1358DR): Giving Myself a Hug—and a Disintegrate

Mages in melee. Now that is an alternate reality.

It seems that fighting another Lyta on 12 Tarsahk was not to be the last time. On our way to Castle Kilgrave I found myself trapped in a box of mirrors, unable to proceed forward or backward. When I broke one of the mirrors I saw my own image in the glass move independently toward me, and do exactly what I find most annoying in combat.

She grappled me.

After multiple attempts at using a dagger, I quickly realized this other self was more skilled with the blade than I was and I was doomed to be defeated. Tired of that Hornung, I disintegrated her ass. Hoping I had bested my enemy, I broke the next mirror, only to find myself face to face with another annoying grappling Lyta.

I heard my comrades nearby tell me that when they downed their foes they told them clues of how to conquer the puzzle…alas, one reality when disintegrate was apparently not the best course of action. I thus used a cone of cold to down the second Lyta, and upon her dying breath she moaned “your….”

Some clue.

January 22, 2005

Mirror Image

Filed under: Summaries — Gabriel Rosa @ 7:56 pm

13 - 14 Tarsakh, 1358DR
[Game of January 22nd, 2005]

Gwynnedh wakes up, feeling something moving over her. She opens her eyes and sees the source of the movement is a familiarly beloved dark haired woman.

The woman leans forward and kisses Gwynn’s forehead, murmuring, “Hello Love.” Gwynnedh smiles up at Mystra dreamily, basking in the affection of her goddess, and then her eyes widen with terror.

Seemingly unbeknownst to her, Bane has suddenly appeared behind Mystra. The dark flesh of his face splits open as his mouth twists into a wicked grin. “Yes, hello love,” he mocks.

Shocked but quick-witted, the woman twists back and stares him in the face. She yells out, “Begone, vile being!” and sends what seem to be four little rocks toward him. A half-breath leater, cloud of fire erupts around the party. To everyone’s glad surprise, the fire does not engulf them, but stops a mere inch from their bodies.

Mystra repeats her attack, sending out acid instead of fire. Again, each party member is precisely avoided.

With one hand –equipped with some kind of heavy gauntlet– Bane smashes into Mystra, and, getting a good grip on her, pulls her close. As she struggles in his grasp, he rakes at her with his other hand.

Gwynn stands up and, crying out, “Unhand her, your fiend!”, through some miracle of devotion stabs Bane with her favorite spear. Though she hits him solidly, her spear does not seem to harm him.

Mystra, still well-held, calls out to Gwynn, “Find her! Run, before you die!” She glances toward the others and says, “May my blessing be with you.”

Bane seems to ignore this. He boldly proclaims, “You will now serve me,” then disappears in a cloud of darkness. The blackness continues to spread from the spot, and a number of creatures appear.

The party is surrounded.

The large one unfurls his black batwings, and pulls out a wickedly spiked chain. A number of smaller creatures surround it, armed with polearms. In the rear, a number of beautiful red-eyed, pale-skinned women appear. Their feather red wings and the glowing bows in their hands make running away as Mystra commanded a mite difficult.

Lyta and Jaran attack with spells. Jaran’s acid seems to have no effect, but Lyta’s two chained lightning attacks demolish the pole-arm-weilders. Meanwhile, the winged women send out waves of negative energy, sickening Falderian and Gwynn.

G’Kar gets smacked around a bit by the big devil, while Gwynn, suffering now from two kinds of sickness, sighingly announces that she’s not going to be much help in this fight. She focuses her attentions on the women.

The chief devil casts Dispel Good(?) on himself, making it difficult for any of the party to approach him.

Ever resourceful Rowan quickly finds a way around the beast’s defenses. Dodging arrows from the women, he flies ten feet above the big meanie devil and wildshapes into a 4,000 lb rhinoceros.

Ouchness.

The devil falls to the ground, badly wounded. G’Kar and Rhino-Rowan take advantage of his disability.

Unfortunately, in his battle with his Clangeddin-self, G’Kar earlier abandoned his shield and loaned scimitar. Before Gwynn could collect his gear, one of the winged women lands near them, covetously. Jaran magically snatches the shield away from the creature, while Gwynn plinks three arrows into her. Falderian later springs in and dispatches her, reclaiming the scimitar. In the meantime, the big devil and the other winged woman decide they don’t like the odds, and disappear.

The party prepares to keep trucking.

Taking advantage of Jaran’s magic and Mystra’s blessing (but still cautiously stripping off all valuable magic items and loading herself down with lesser goods to reduce the chance of the ring beind disjuncted), Gwynn sends to Mystra again, hoping to reach Midnight. “Mistress Midnight,” she says. “Bane snatched away Mystra. Time is precious, the road dangerous. We’re twenty miles north of Arabel. Have maps, can teleport. Guide us, please.”

In reply, she receives, “… me … castle … in … days. … with … business. … try … teleportation … I … the … to … her.”

As the group stares at each other dumbly. Gwynn asks Jaran to search her maps for any nearby castles. Jaran unrolls her newly acquired map of Cormyr, announcing that she can cast another sending. Rowan suggests it might be worth asking Midnight to re-send every other word.

Gwynn agrees and composes a second message. “Mystra insisted we come to you. Your reply split with hers. Received only every other word, starting at “me… castle… in…”. Please fill the gaps.”

The reply comes back, “… Meet … at … Kilgrave … three … occupied … some … don’t … any … magic. … have … means … free… ”

The party ponders for a moment and pieces together the full message:
“Meet me at Kilgrave Castle in three days. Occupied with some business. Don’t try any teleportation magic. I have the means to free her.”

Jaran announces that there is no Castle Kilgrave on her map. The nearest castle is a Castle Crag to the east. Rowan volunteers to fly ahead and gather what information he can. Borrowing writing materials from Lyta, Gwynn writes Rowan a brief letter that she hopes will smooth relations between any regulation-minded Cormyreans and the randomly appearing pixie.

In Common and again in Chondathan, she writes:

“Honoured Recipient,

The bearer of this letter, Rowan of the Wealdath, is an advance representative of a party of peaceful pilgrims. On 10 Tarasakh 1358, we left Arabel with a writ of passage signed by [whoever signed it, whatever distinguishing features he had]. I will gladly furnish these papers upon my arrival, should our path take us your way. Our business is a matter of some importance. We seek only rest and guidance. I humbly beg you cooperate with my agent, as you are able.”

Respectfully,

Lady Gwynnedh Athunsun of Zazzespur,
Servant of Mystra
Knight of Tethyr,
Lady Ruler of Mosstone
[Signet impression/holy symbol impression]”

After an hour or two of flying, an Eagle version of Rowan arrives at the castle and finds a man who looks to be the head guard or watch leader. He turns visible, lands, and is shooed away. Sighing a bird sigh, he reverts to his pixie form.

The man seems startled. He steps back, reaches to a bag on his belt, and removes a horn. Blowing the horn, he summons readied archers to his side. Rowan is surrounded, and ask why he’s tresspassing. Rowan explains he is merely looking for the whereabouts of Castle Kilgrave.

“The ruins of Castle Kilgrave are ten miles to the west of here.”

A war mage arrives and explains that the castle is property of Cormyr and Rowan must leave immediately. Rowan leaves immediately. He does not end up needing Gwynn’s letter, after all.

As he leaves, he hears the leader of the commanding guard say, “Good job, men, but should have been better. Drill time.”

Turning to the west, Rowan sees an area shrouded in roiling black mist.

Splendid.

Rowan returns to the party. They debate for a few minutes, then decide to approach the black area. To keep a good pace, Jaran loans G’Kar her broom to ride on. Rowan rests in a make-shift hammock slung under the broomstick so that he may tend to the wounded overnight without becoming too exhausted.

Two to three miles from the black area, G’Kar’s ioun stone suddenly falls to the ground.

“Huh.”

G’Kar walks back a few paces, and the stone begins orbiting properly again. As he walks to rejoin the party, the stone continues to orbit as designed.

“Huh.”

The party decides to stop for the night. They set up a night watch –four four hour shifts. Mercifully, the night passes uneventfully.

In the morning, Lyta and Jaran have difficulty keeping their high level spells in their minds.

“Huh.”

The party considers splitting up again, letting Rowan scout ahead. Jaran balks at the notion of letting anyone enter the evil blackness alone. Gwynn and Rowan object somewhat jokingly that the darkness needn’t necessarily be evil. Rowan agrees, “It’s definitely *unnatural*…” The party then spends some moments discussing the nature and technical definition of evil.

Rowan explores the area where G’Kar’s ioun stone fell and sees nothing worth noting.

G’Kar suddenly has a strange feeling about his vision –his eyes are losing focus. Rowan thinks that perhaps the blackness is spreading outward. He flies up and verifies his hunch.

The party agrees to move toward the edge of the black fog while Rowan scouts ahead.

He searches around the area of darkness –a heavy mist which emanates from the castle and rolls along the ground. He sees that a crumbled tower projects through the fog. Suddenly, a brick flips into a place. He blinks. Another brick puts itself into place.

Suddenly the darkness disappears. The party is separated from each other, and each person is surrounded by images of themselves.

The party hears Rowan say, “I just fought you a couple days ago!”

G’Kar experiments and determines that the other G’Kars mimic his movements exactly. When he walks, he feels like he doesn’t make any forward progress. G’Kar chucks a copper piece forward. It bounces off an invisible wall.

When Jaran looks down, she sees reflections of herself extending beneath her feet as well. Jaran attempts to poke an image of herself with a quarterstaff. She wins a “tink!” It seems softer than stone, as do the “ground” and “sky”. She traces around the edges of her world and determines she’s in a cube. She jams the pole in the corner and tries to walk into the corner. She becomes disoriented; she moves forward but her hand does not move along the shaft of the pole.

Gwynn sighs. She tries walking backwards, but she is similarly trapped. Half-suspecting she is prevented from going further prematurely by a benign force –as Jaran was prevented from reaching Mielikki’s island–she announces to whomever may be listening, “I haven’t much food with me, so I can’t stay here indefinitely. I would appreciate being reunited with my party.”

Rowan turns himself into a rhinoceros and jumps up and down. Everyone hears the sound of a rhinoceros jumping up and down. He gores the wall with his horn, and shatters it. In front of him, he now sees… a rhinoceros, just like him. Except, it’s not exactly a rhinoceros just like him. There are some flaws. It sniffs the air with its horned nose, not seeming able to see him.

Hearing the breaking glass, Gwynn pulls out her longspear and smashes the wall in front of her. She sees… another Gwynn. [Melissa rolls a crap spot check, and] Gwynnedh perceives a perfect replica of herself. The other Gwynn looks straight toward her, and does not mimic her movements. Suddenly, while Gwynnedh admires the full curve of her hips and thighs reflected in her alternate, the other Gwynn moves forward, reaching out with both hands toward Gwynnedh’s throat. Though still a bit stiff-limbed, Gwynnedh avoids being strangled.

Also trapped in a mirror box, gazing at infinite reflections of herself in all directions, Lyta draws and loads her crossbow, and considers her spells. She decides to fire the crossbow, and shatters the glass. Looking back at her is another Lyta. She sees that it’s not an exact replica –there are no sticks in her hair. Warning, “This world can barely handle me. It cannot tolerate two of us. Begone!”, Lyta attempts to use a quickened NRD to dispel the magic. The spell goes off correctly, but the other Lyta still remains.

G’Kar hears lots of glass shattering around him [”and Gwynnedh pleaing for food.”] Doing what he can with a weapon that is not meant to be thrown, he chucks a warhammer toward the wall. The wall shatters, and behind it is himself. He unsheaths his newly acquired Helmly bastard sword.

Gwynnedh drops her spear and pulls her greatsword. She smacks her alter-self twice, pulling her blows so as not to actually cut the creature, while warning it that if it touches her again, she *will* kill it.

The other Lyta advances, hands outstretched. It grabs her throat and swings its leg behind her knee, tripping her. Lyta falls to the ground, the creature landing atop her. It wraps its limbs around her, holding her and squeezing her, and bending her in ways she is not meant to be bent. Lyta considers her options. She decides her dimension door slippers are her best bet. Intending to go 100 feet from her current spot, she arrives a mere five feet from the creature. However, she is no longer being held and squeezed and bent in directions she’s not meant to be bent.

G’Kar notices his alternate is not wearing any armor. He asks it if it is friend or foe. In wordless reply, the creature moves forward and tries to choke him. G’Kar cuts into it with his sword. The creature succeeds in getting its grubby hands around his throat, and attempts to pull him to the ground, but fails. The creature tries again, succeeding in tripping G’Kar this time.

The alter Rowan-rhino tries to spear Rowan with its horn. Prepared for the attack, Rowan beats him to the… gore.

Jaran draws her Bast sword and her hand crossbow. She loads the crossbow, preparing to shoot out the wall.

Gwynn prepares herself in case the creature attempts to lunge toward her again. It does. She cuts into it, but it still manages to wrestle her to the ground.

Lyta is caught by the creature again, and complains of being grappled. She manages to break free.

G’Kar is also caught by his alterself, and also manages to break free from his oppressor.

The Rowan-rhino continues to 0wn his alter-self [”You kinda fucked him by being a rhino.”].

Gwynnedh manages to draw her dagger and twice stab the other Gwynn. Twice the other Gwynn tries to draw its own weapon. Twice Gwynn slaps its hand away. Double your pleasure, double your “No, bitch.”

Lyta continues to struggle with her opponant. She decides, “I’m gonna disintegrate her ass!” and indeed she does [”I’m going to save you the trouble and say that on the 32d6’s damage you’re going to do, you’ll do over a hundred points of damage, and this thing’s gonna go *psssht!*”]. She moves around, but discovers that she is still trapped in the glass box.

G’Kar twice avoids being tripped. Rowan continues ripping the begeezus out of his alter-rhino.

Hearing warnings of grappling, Jaran re-thinks her weapon choices before breaking free from her glassy cell. She puts away her longsword and draws a dagger. She shoots out the wall and sees a Jaran looking back at her. It is not (surprise, surprise) a faithful reproduction. Jaran wastes no time in stabbing her alter-self. The creature paws at her, but is confused by her cloak and her clawing hand is a good foot off its mark. They struggle.

G’Kar continues to beat his alter-self to a gooey pulp. The creature looses its balance and falls prone. It stands, and G’Kar takes advantage of its undefended moment, swinging at it mercilessly. As the sword cuts into it, it reverts into what is presumably its original form –a whitish humanoid. It breathes out, “Must…” and falls dead.

Rowan’s creature falls shortly afterward. As it collapses into a gelatinous heap, it gasps, “You…” Rowan can think of nothing better to do but jump up and down.

Jaran stabby stabs.

Gwynn, trying to stand up and failing to accomplish anything but getting herself tripped again, decides to just lay there and stab at the creature beside her. They continue to struggle. “Why are you attacking me?” she screams at it furiously. “Give up now and I will still spare your life!”

Lyta shatters another wall of glass. Behind it is… another Lyta. It charges forward and tries to trip her.

G’Kar walks forward. The world moves forward with him. Rowan breaks another wall. Another rhino appears.

Everyone continues to do the choke-trip-grapple slash stab gore dance.

Gwynn stabs it one more time and it reverts to its natural form. It sighs out… “Close” [”But the hoogenblatz is silent…”] and dies. Gwynn rolls over and puts her sword away.

G’Kar smashes another pane of glass and finds… another G’Kar. Rowan closes his eyes and attempts to gore his opponant. [”Friends don’t let friends gore blind.”]

Jaran pieces together the three dying words of the creatures and announces, “You must close your eyes when you break the glass! Maybe…”

Rowan stomps his rhino foot in reply. Gwynn answers that she will try it.

Gwynnedh sheathes her sword and holsters her spear. Closing her eyes, she stabs the ground at her feet with the dagger. When she opens her eyes again, she sees broken glass and dirt and glass walls around her, reflecting Gwynns into infinity. Sheathing her dagger and drawing her spear again, she closes her eyes and smashes a wall to her side. Beyond, she sees darkness and foothills. “It works!” she calls out. “Take out a side wall!”

The choke-trip-grapple slash stab gore dance continues.

Lyta closes her eyes and casts a cone of cold. She is rewarded with the sound of shattering glass, and the whispered dying word, “your…”. When she opens her eyes, she sees darkness… and foothills.

Jaran casts a spell and surrounds herself with swirling shimmering colours. Frustrated, she calls out, “Magic is still wild…”

Gwynnedh steps out of the box and looks around. She sees nothing of note, not even the box she just stepped out of. “I’m out of the box,” she cries out. “Where is everyone?”

Lyta, though Gwynn can’t see her, is nearby. “Here!” she says, stepping out of her own cell. They meet up and hold hands so Gwynn doesn’t get lost in the dark.

Rowan turns into pixie form and draws his quarterstaff. With his eyes still closed, he smacks into the upper wall. He and the creature are showered with glass. He continues to fly upward until he sees Lyta and Gwynn.

For G’Kar and Jaran, the choke-trip-grapple dance continues to continue.

Jaran calls instructions to Falderian, who has been disturbingly silent all this time, and smashes out a side wall. The creature is still with her. She waits a moment for Falderian’s response, but the creature lunges toward her and she chooses to exit.

She discovers that Falderian is already out of the box. G’Kar asks Falderian how long it took him to figure out how to get out of the box.

“Out of what?” he asks. “I’ve just been standing there. Where the hell were you guys?”

G’Kar explains about the box, the mirrors, the doppleganger-thingies. Falderian seems disappointed that he did not get to battle himself again.

“Oh, so you did experience that?” G’Kar asks.

“Oh yeah,” Faldarian says with some savour. “Oh hell yeah.”

When the party is thoroughly reunited, G’Kar and Rowan explain that before they entered the box, they heard a familiarly evil laugh and a voice inviting them to, “Come in. Stay awhile.”

Just then, a voice –the same evil voice– calls from the castle, “Although only vermin, you will do as an audience.” A womans’ screams knife through the air. “Come forward and witness the end of magic.”

January 19, 2005

Her Worst Enemy

Filed under: Love and Duty — Melissa @ 1:06 pm

(12 Tarsakh 1358)

A test… A test…

The figure emerging from the mists… she has my face, my form, but does she have my heart? Her expression is so fierce, I almost doubt it. And why does she not recognize me as herself?

She rushes toward me, her hand reaching back. The spear? No… The sword.

Damn it.

My hand –her hand’s twin– rests on the hilt of my own version of that sword. I have this one advantage, this one chance to turn aside her blade before she brings it down on me.

I long for the sickness twisted souls inspire in me, but my heart is blind.

A test…

My face is her face. My heart must also be her heart, else the test is unfair.

I put my faith in that.

She roars –it is distorted to my ears, but I know the voice as mine– and the sword comes down. I shift as I can with these stiff limbs, bracing myself for her strike.

It should not, but the blow goes astray.

Then… is her heart not committed?

I release the sword and slide back, my hands flying out harmlessly. “I have no desire to fight you. Stay your hand! Let us discuss this.”

She seems not to hear. The blade comes up again, and this time her hand is true. The cut is deep –rarely have I known such pain!– and I see in her eyes, in my eyes, hatred and a cold glint of satisfaction.

It is the satisfaction of merciless destruction.

It chills me, freezes my heart, my mind.

She raises her hand again and scores a lesser gash in my flesh. My blood pours from me. My body trembles. My breath comes in gurgles. I stumble back, coughing, spitting scarlet.

She is not my true reflection, not of my current self. She is what I once was, and I… I am become evil.

Or she is evil, and I am a fool for my faith.

I have no chance now against my former self, if ever I did.

Again she gathers her strength, again I see the glint of cold hatred in her eyes, again, and again, her blade cuts through me.

I fall.

There is no pain, now, nor any sound but my own blood. She stands over me a
moment, cleaning her blade. Her face –my face– is as ice, now, hard and
untouched by even the faintest warmth of pity.

She paces away and calls Hadrian, not glancing backward even once.

Darkness bleeds in around my sight.

This was… a test…

And surely I have failed.

Lyta’s Alternate Reality– Entry #43

Filed under: Lyta's Alternate Reality — Tracia Barbieri @ 12:45 pm

Entry 43 (12 Tarsahk, 1358DR): The Prophecy is Realized

Though I alone experienced a reality too amazing to be believed, this was, for once, not because of my beloved spell. This was a situation, presumably at the hands of Gods, where my comrades were suddenly no longer by my side, and that I alone stood in a shroud of fog. “You are attempting a quest of the Gods. You will be tested in front of me, the One who is hidden!” bellowed into the stillness from an unknown origin.

Far in the distance, one lone figure emerged from the fog, and my Arcane Sight told me this half-elf was an arcane caster of comparable skill to myself. I cut the awkward silence and exclaimed, “Greetings, fellow caster!” but I received no reply. Closer still the figure came, and I began to realize that she, too, was a wild elf. But…then…this was not just any wild elf. It was…me!

This realization slowed my otherwise faithful insight, and this Lyta attacked me with my own most powerful spell, magically extracting life-giving water from my body. And it seemed she was equally skilled with metamagic, for before I could react she also sent forth painful magic missiles with a mere flick of her wrist.

Though her actions proved her a foe to me, I would challenge anyone to not hesitate at such a queer circumstance, and I second-guessed the wisdom of battling myself. “I don’t really want to kill you!” I proclaimed, and merely aimed to impair my opponent’s abilities to attack me multiple times with a newly-acquired spell that burned her blood.

Seeing its success gripped me with an odd satisfaction, and I told the sky above, “…though I admit this is somewhat entertaining.” And I attempted a more powerful wild spell at her with my own quickened wrist movement. If it was fate that prevented it from working or a faltering in my own resolve, I do not know.

I would have thought that my opponent wincing in pain would make her reevaluate this fruitless battle, but it did not, and she composed herself enough to send forth more missiles at me with that familiar wrist flick. Since I had already sustained much damage from the vile insects that swarmed our path mere hours before, my survivor instincts showed me that I had little time left, and that I must kill…or be killed.

With a deep breath I conjured the most powerful Energies I had, pulling forth my skills at metamagic to make it hardest for her to resist it’s deadly force. “I hope this is the right decision” I muttered to myself as I shot that familiar green ray at her. For a moment I saw her face, frozen in pain before she crumpled to dust, and I knew that ironic illusion reminiscent of a looking glass would remain with me forever.

I know I will be spending the rest of my life pondering those 12 mere seconds. This Lyta was my duplicate, yet she did not utilize any wild magic spells! Perhaps this illustrates to me that that is the source of my greatest strength. They turn the tide in a heartbeat, and though frequently they fail or increase my obstacles, the power they offer upon their successes provides me with an added edge. This Lyta could have twice prevailed by using wild magic instead of time-tested spells, and her choice to stick with what ‘just works’ was actually her downfall.

As I sit here in an inescapable purgatory, I still do not know if I passed this “test”, or if in destroying my own image I have destroyed my only chance for escape. I can only try to maintain a humorous view of this, and now I can whole-heartedly tell my comrades, should I ever see them again, that the prophecy with they have often goaded me has indeed been realized.

I indeed disintegrated myself.

January 16, 2005

Insect swarms are fun.

Filed under: Summaries — Yamara @ 5:15 pm

We spent an additional day in Arabel, to learn more about Midnight. G’kar, a newly convert to Helm, spent the morning with Lyta at the Helmite temple healing the townfolk. Rowan asked after Midnight from a dryad hidden within the gardens.

Falderian learned more about Midnight from a bard he intimidated in the local tavern. She carries a pendant with a stone, which she tries to keep hidden. She can cast spells, but denies being a wizard.

Left Arabel headed north on shiny new horses. Sadly, they all got eaten by unpleasant stinging swarms. Fled on foot up the mountain while Jaran distracted the other swarms with ettin brains.

Rested after much fleeing. Continued trudging on the next day with the dwarf led on broom.

After much more walking, ran into a thick fog bank. Sight almost nil, and everyone lost track of the others. We came across our dopplegangers, and a booming voice claiming to be the One that is Hidden asked for a test. Rowan, the pixie, diplomacied himself into leaving. The G’kars just couldn’t hit each other. Gwynn tried to parley, but was taken down in a fury of smiting. Lyta disintegrated herself. And Jaran slowly melted her opponent into submission, dispelling the acid arrows before they killed her.

At the conclusion, we all become too sleepy to continue, falling upon the ground. When we awaken, we hear a woman speaking to Gwynn, calling her “Love”.

January 15, 2005

Beware the frumious death bringer

Filed under: Summaries — Yamara @ 5:26 pm

Got a “reliable” description of the path outside Arabel from Mielikki. Greater teleported there. Ended up *in town* instead of out, between a force of Purple Dragon knights and a bevy of shadows lead by a very unpleasant death bringer.

Met Aliana Silverbow of Tyr after destroying the undead. Were escorted to the registrar’s office, registered the arcane casters. Were warned about gallavanting about the Cormyrian countryside in search of gold or fame. Aliana arranged for quarters and dinner, in payment of our aid in destroying undead.

Gwynn borked the lore master at the temple of Mystra about Midnight carrying Mystra’s power. Rowan played with Tymora, reported about pixie only knows. Falderian hit the bars with Gwynn and found that Midnight had left already, heading north. She had stayed at the Golden Goose inn. G’kar bought a shiny new bastard sword to be more Helmish.

January 9, 2005

Small love interests

Filed under: Summaries — Yamara @ 5:37 pm

We greater teleported to the swamp, after leaving the blind unicorn in the hole. Were ambushed by skeletal undead creatures bearing large scythes as we tried to cross a large river flowing red through the swamp. Finally came across Moonwind, the pixie, already dead and fallen by some kind of pedestal in the midst of a somewhat Mielikki touched grove. Pedestal had a triangular imprint upon it, perhaps of a unicorn horn, and many tracks around it.

Brought Moonwind back to Mielikki. Life was breathed back into her by the goddess, and Rowan of course rejoiced. Mielikki learned the specific words of the garbled sending Gwynn had gotten earlier, and told Rowan of the Tablets of Faith, as well as other things undisclosed by the player. The unicorn was cured of blindness.

We considered plans for getting to Arabel in Cormyr.

January 8, 2005

Lyta’s Alternate Reality– Entries #40-42

Filed under: Lyta's Alternate Reality — Tracia Barbieri @ 7:20 pm

Entry 40-42 (8 Tarsahk, 1358DR): The Cloud of Clangeddin

Oh, but these entries are getting tiresome. The state of Chaos in the Weave is so much now that AR is part of my daily life. Trying to frantically correct chaotic effects is like scurrying to stack marbles.

After the “success” of two sendings, I offered the same to G’kar so he could speak with Clangeddin, whom he witnessed falling at an Elven Avatar’s staff. Upon his first attempt, the pixie’s invisibility was purged. Not a pretty sight to see a pixie covering himself and screaming in a high voice, “Quick! Change it! Change it!!”. So I AR’d that result, which gave G’kar utterly useless low-light vision.

Though that was not a disastrous result, I suspected that G’kar would want to keep trying. I altered reality again, and as I was about to touch him, I saw a blackish glow upon my hand, and knew I was about to disjunct one of his beloved magic items!! I quickly touched a glowing rock (courtesy the experimenting pixie) and discharged the most foul of spells!! Thank Mystra for the permancy of my newly-invented Surgical Sight Spell!

Determination fueled my resolve, and I tried one last AR. A wisp of smoke enveloped in front of G’kar, and turned into a shadowy figure of a dwarf. Not just any dwarf, but Clangeddin himself!!

Sadly, when G’kar spoke his words of sending, the smoke dissipated, and he received no reply. This earned me a quizzical look from G’kar—a look all too familiar to me—and an annoyed, “You sure that wasn’t wonky magic?” from the pixie! And to think that they didn’t even experience the other three “wonky” results!! What would they say if they realized just how much more chaotic this Chaos can be? Do they think I cause it on purpose? Sigh…

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