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Thread: Dragons on the River of Time [First Quest - "Dragons of Death"]

  1. #1
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    Default Dragons on the River of Time [First Quest - "Dragons of Death"]

    The Prologue
    He watched through alien eyes as their worlds broke. The legendary sleeper never awakened. A sacred weapon was destroyed on an unholy alter of death. A war priest never received his calling. The fiery halo of a knight's faith was extinguished before it could ever be ignited. The greatest sorcerer of an age was never born. Their fates had been changed. Their worlds had been broken, but not forever. Their fates could be reversed. The fates of countless souls swept along in the forks of the great river could be changed, but he could not change them. Not directly.

    He hovered cross-legged above the timeless stone of his retreat on the nigh invisible shores of the all-powerful river. His slender gray fingers steeped together to form an apex of knobby joints. As he stared into countless temporal eddies he began to tap the tips of those fingers together. One spongy fingertip slapped against its opposite number in a steady rhythm. The tap tap tap of his fingers was the only sound in his great chamber. The rhythmic flow of his fingers against one another created a constant motion that traveled from index finger to pinky, index finger to pinky, index finger to pinky. He hovered quietly in the flickering green glow of time itself, nestled in a bubble of iridescent light that was swallowed up by the shadowy nothingness that surrounded him. His immediate place did not matter. Not now. Not to him. Others would look upon this place with wonder in time, but not now.

    He smiled impishly, twisting his unnaturally smooth cheeks into a wrinkled mockery of themselves, and suddenly his two thumbs joined the tiny drum line. Working in tandem the two digits changed the beat and created a new cadence that tapped tapped tapped itself along in the place of the old one. Change one note, throw one pebble into a single current and everything that flowed outward from it was different, he mused. Each ripple brought changes, big and small. Each tap created a slightly new sound. Each fork split in an unforeseen way. Another world died. Another world was born. The river ebbed and flowed into countless undertows and currents. Gods died here. A nation rose there. A kodragon crossed the road at an inappropriate time and a key kender hero was never born in more then a few places. That surprised him. He liked seeing the differences. They amused him.

    Moments like these, where he simply observed, had become far more common place for his liking. He didn't swim through time as often as he had before. That one pesky ripple had somehow caused dangerous tidal waves throughout his immortal waterway. Chaos erupted from one terrible war in the strongest, most central current, and damned up inconceivable others. Navigation on the river had become more difficult and more dangerous, even for him.

    He was unique, he knew. Few other beings could say so, not even the gods of so many worlds. He was one with time. He was not time itself, but he and it were inexorably linked. He had yet to find another being exactly like him swimming in the currents. He had a people. He'd met them, but they'd found him unnatural. Amongst his own kind he was an outcast.

    These five were outcasts now too, travelers along the river who had been thrown from their crafts by the damming power of Chaos. With no life line to cling to they would soon drown. He watched them thrash about in the metaphysical river and nodded to no one. The tap tap tapping of his fingers stopped. They flexed instead, criss-crossing and intertwining in silence. All he heard now was the flow of the river. These five would do. There were other struggling mariners in need, but these five best suited his purposes for now. He would save them and, with the proper guidance, they would save others. They would break the dam down. They would correct the courses of the river's wayward currents.

    He smiled, then unclenched his smooth, clammy gray hands and let them wrinkle, dry and pale as he reached into the timestream. His smile broadened. Sharp needles elongated from behind a lip-less mouth before they blunted and were shielded by chapped aged flesh. He let his joy encompass the whole of his new face. He felt the pull. He felt the ebb and flow of time in his very soul. His head-splitting grin shrank to a thin, cheerful line. He was fishing here, he reminded himself, not swimming.

    The Wayfarer plucked the sorcerer from the River of Time first.

    OOC -
    Hold please; another post is on the way!
    Last edited by Tauren_Kai-Jere; 04-20-2013 at 01:40 PM.
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  2. #2
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    Ulin Majere stood in a magnificent circular room. The domed ceiling overhead was covered in what he could only describe as a living mural. A constant parade of vibrant shifting images torn from the pages of Krynn's history played out in astonishing detail. Some of these vignettes were the stuff legends; Sturm Brightblade's noble sacrifice on the walls of the High Clerist's Tower, the destruction of Istar by the fiery mountain from the sky. He could see the shine of the Crown knight's armor against the bleak winter sky, he could almost feel the ripples of heat in the air as the fiery mountain plummeted through the atmosphere of an unsuspecting world. He felt his sun shatter. He felt that world break.

    Other images were more mundane; barbarian marriages, petty kender thefts, goblin villages put to the torch. The details of these small moments were no less impressive, Ulin simply couldn't begin to comprehend their importance. There were also images of things that he knew had never came to pass. He watched in horror as Tasslehoff Burrfoot was crushed beneath the great merciless foot of Chaos without ever pulling Rabbitslayer from it's sheath. He saw the great city of Palanthas razed to the ground by some terrifying storm of magic that he could barely conceive of.

    He shuddered and looked away. This place reeked of magic beyond his understanding. These illusions seemed almost too vivid for a basic spell of silent imagery. Truth be told the former head of Solace's Academy of Sorcery had no idea how he'd even arrived in this place, beyond that it was a spell of some kind. Ulin had once instructed some of the brightest, most promising minds of his generation in taming the Wild Art. Yet the flash of light that had stolen him from his safe house in Port O' Call had him stumped. He had an encyclopedic knowledge of the arcane and yet he could not name a single spell that could transport a man from one place to another against his will. Was this the work of the Conclave? Had they finally caught up to him somehow for what he'd done?

    That thought triggered his survival instincts, honed by long months of avoiding the moon wizards and their watchdogs. Instinctively he began to form the words to a conjuration that would spirit him away from the renegade hunter he knew would come bursting through those iron gates any moment now, a fireball on their lips. Half-way through the spell the near silence of the place halted his paranoia. There was only the calming sound of running water from the fountain. There was no one else here, not anywhere close. He could feel the stillness of the chamber around him. He ignored the mural for now and took a closer look at the room. Where was he exactly?

    Something in the look of this place tickled the edge of his scholar's memory. On the other side of the hall a short flight of stairs lead up to a pair of nondescript metal doors. A dragon's skull guarded the highest point of the archway above the paired iron portals. A fountain of sparkling water bubbled softly in the center of the room. There were strange archaic carvings in the stonework of the fountain, like nothing he'd ever seen his life. Perhaps in a book? His eyes drifted upward again, drawn to the impressive illusions above him. As he watched they continued to play out these bizarre visions of history and fancy. Something about this whole place was so familiar, yet so unlike anything he'd ever encountered before.

    Then the flash returned and blinded him again. This time it left behind a slightly singed and slightly aged dwarf warrior in heavy breastplate. Unlike Ulin the dwarf didn't seem fully aware of what had just happened to him.

    “- throat's parched and I'm thinkin' me mates are in a similar state.”

    The new arrival's request for a drink quickly morphed into a string of curses as he realized he was now standing belly-deep in a fountain of freezing cold water and being gawked at by a skinny human youth in a poorly constructed excuse for a stronghold.

    OOC -
    Ulin, DC 20 Spellcraft check (d20+15): 19. Fails. Does not know what happened to him.
    Ulin, DC 20 Knowledge (arcana) check (d20+13): 18. Fails. Ullin does not know where he is.
    Ulin, DC 20 Knowledge (history) check (d20+9): 24. Understands the significance of many of the images appearing above him.

    Heine, I yanked Bhatair from exactly where he was in Hourglass; he's just not technically wounded anymore. The rest of you can "flash" yourself into the scene whenever you'd like, but I would like to give Ullin and Bhatair at least a moment to speak to each other. Majere, I'd like to be responsible for dropping Waylorn and Colbert into the game.

    Anyway, take it away guys! Have fun!
    Last edited by Tauren_Kai-Jere; 03-27-2016 at 01:42 PM.
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    Ulin kept his guard and fought against panic. The moon-worshipers had made his life a living hell these past few months, and it was all he could do to keep from making a hasty escape to… where? Where was here? Was this one of the Towers of High Sorcery? No, it could not possibly be. His father had taken him to Wayreth and Palanthas on more than one occasion during his apprenticeship. Wherever he was, it was no place he knew off-hand. Several spells arced through his conscious mind, his passion harnessing the formless energy that surrounded all on the face of Ansalon. The primal magic was strong here. It was his to command, yet he stayed patient. Everything had its due time, or so his father always said.

    Eyes locked above, the bedraggled man inwardly relaxed and took count of his environment. As a myriad of bizarre images shifted overhead, Ulin stood transfixed in marvel at the display of magic. That is, until a large dwarf materialized out of nowhere, splashing water in a shower of droplets. Ulin fought against the gravity of the moment, and nodded to the newcomer.

    “Welcome. You wouldn’t know how you got here,” he asked plaintively.
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    "How I got here?" Bhatair asked incredulously as he made his way through the freezing water. "Lad, I haven't the faintest idea where 'here' is!" Stepping out of the fountain, he studied his surroundings. He definitely wasn't in Sanction anymore. His thirst remained, however. Bhatair turned to face the human once, one hand raised to point toward the flight of stairs leading to what was surely the exit. "I'll be bettin' this is my way out o' here, though. And where's there's a way out, there's a way to the next barrel o' fine dwarf spirits! Ha!"

    Bhatair ascended the flight of stairs leading to the metal doors. He knew something was terribly wrong and the first order of business had to be to figure out where they were and what had happened. If, Reorx be praised, find something to end this damned thirst.
    Heine Kim Stick

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    "Uh, you probably want to wait before touching anything, Master Dwarf," Ulin replied as politely as possible as he barreled past. "If what is above on the ceiling is any indication of the power in this place...that door may have a nasty surprise...."
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    “If you can hold your horses a moment, I can try and find out just what in the Abyss is going on here,” he added.

    Not waiting for the more than likely surly response, Ulin focused his will. Grabbing on to a minor thread of primal energy, he manipulated it as a bard would a fiddle. Bending the small burst of power his way, his passion thrummed the chord through himself and outward, its energy beginning to quest the levels of sorcery in the area. The energy surged away invisibly, in a conish emanation.

    Though he spoke, his words were not quite the tongue of Magius. Ulin found long ago his craft did not need to follow such limitations put upon spellcraft by the moon gods. His was an extension of himself, imagination the only limits to power. The rawness of the magic was not quite like the ecstatic bursts those of the Orders felt. Quite the opposite, actually. Yes, the addictiveness was still there, but it was not a fleeting surge leaving the sorcerer with a feeling of loss. The Wild Magic never left. It was a dependable feeling, almost nurturing the user to ensure a sense of oneness with the world.

    OOC: Cast Detect Magic.
    Last edited by rogue; 04-17-2012 at 05:43 PM.
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    The tone of the man's voice grabbed Bhatair's attention. The dwarf let his hand drop away from the handle he was reaching for and turned to face the scrawny youth with a furrowed brow. He didn't know much of anything about magic, but he'd traveled enough to know it when he saw it. Whatever the boy was doing wasn't a prayer. It smacked of wizardry to him. The faint, unnatural glow fizzling from around the boy's eyes as he took the dwarf's measure confirmed his suspicions. Magic.

    Ulin pulled apart the clash of magical energies radiating from various objects in front of him with a practiced eye. The doors the stranger had been reaching for, he was relieved to see, appeared ordinary. However, with that said the steel acted as a barrier, blocking his ability to see any magical energy beyond it or the stone walls that framed them. He gently refocused his eyes on the dwarf, letting the doors blur behind him and made a quick study of the warrior's arms and armor. Enchanted breastplate and shield, a thundering warhammer, and a clash of blue and gold energy fields radiating out from beneath the worn cloth of his backpack. Abjuration and...conjuration. Likely potions of some kind. When Ulin noticed the faint glow of the medallion of faith hanging below his beard he amended his previous hypothesis. The dwarf was a priest it would seem.

    Satisfied for the moment he swiveled his head upward to study the living mural and was forced to immediately look away. Seen unfiltered through his cantrip the moving images of the mural blinded him with their overwhelming power. The aura was so strong he couldn't focus on it long enough to decipher it's ebb and flow, let alone any kind of distinct color that might identify the aura.

    OOC -
    Ulin casts detect magic and concentrates for 3 rounds:
    Round 1 – Detects the presence of magic.
    Round 2 – Detects 11 separate faint auras radiating from the dwarf.
    Round 3 – Spellcraft checks:
    Ulin, DC 18 Spellcraft check (d20+15): 21. Succeeds. The dwarf is wearing +1 breastplate.
    Ulin, DC 18 Spellcraft check (d20+15): 35. Succeeds. The dwarf is carrying a +1 light steel shield.
    Ulin, DC 20 Spellcraft check (d20+15): 30. Succeeds. The dwarf is carrying a +1 thundering warhammer.
    Ulin, DC 17 Spellcraft check (d20+15): 25. Succeeds. Recognizes 3 auras of conjuration coming from the dwarf's backpack.
    Ulin, six DC 16 Spellcraft check succeeds automatically. Recognizes 6 auras of abjuration coming from the dwarf's backpack.
    Ulin, DC 18 Spellcraft check (d20+15): 22. Succeeds. The dwarf is wearing a medallion of faith.
    Ulin, DC 36 Spellcraft check (d20+15): 34. Fails. Does not recognize the overwhelming aura coming from the ceiling.
    Last edited by Tauren_Kai-Jere; 07-15-2012 at 01:44 PM.
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    "Well? Did ye find anythin' lad?" Bhatair asked as he made his way back down the staircase. As much as he hated to admit it, the scrawny human was probably right. Nasty surprises always waited for those not alert to their surroundings.
    Heine Kim Stick

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    "Hmm, well the door up there is safe," he finally answered, eyes a-glow. "But that thing above is like nothing I have ever seen before."

    "I am older than I look," he added haphazardly.

    Ulin then swept his gaze around the room a final time, letting his concentration fall, and then approached the fountain to inspect the runes. Just what in the hell was going on?

    OOC: Dropping Detect Magic.
    Dave, I am not sure what kind of roll you need for the script on the fountain.
    1D20(17) + ???
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  10. #10
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    After a minute of carefully studying the carvings in the stone the sorcerer was no closer to understanding what was going on. Whatever language this was he had never seen anything like it, assuming it was a language at all.

    OOC -
    Ulin, DC 30 Linguistics check (d20+7): 24. Fails. Cannot decipher the strange language.
    Ulin, DC 5 Wisdom check (d20+1): 14. Succeeds. Does not draw a false conclusion about the symbols on the fountain.
    Last edited by Tauren_Kai-Jere; 04-23-2012 at 12:13 PM.
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