Allabrahni was in front of Felghanis’ eyes when he awoke. Her visage at once gave him hope and sorrow.
“You have earned a reward, Felghanis. What would you have that is suitable in the eyes of Araytor?”
“I would know what the Church want with the books,” Fel answered as the sleep seemed to wash from his mind and body as if born away by Allabrahni’s aura.
“That is unclear. It is certainly possible that the collection of the books are for their use, as you well suspect. What else would you know?”
“Where is Jonas headed?”
“To Dwarf Town. They plan to use the altar there.” The angel seemed to be expecting more questions.
“Where is the Titan’s Tear?”
“In the final tomb of the Hrimpursar elders.”
“And where is that?”
“At the feet of the Iron Teeth Mountains, in the silver forest. The trail is marked with stacks of carved stones.”
“How does Hydraxus fit into this?”
“Unclear, although Hydraxus claimed to be beyond the reach of cold when he claimed the throne of water on this plane.”
Felghanis was troubled. Hydraxus was a god, and on this plane? Does that mean the elemental lord of water walks Kiltayre? He shuddered.
“Will Araytor accept my worship?”
“Araytor accepts all worship,” Allabrahni smiled and gently caressed Felghanis’ brow as a mother might. “Be at peace and have Aid for this day.”
Felghanis was suddenly looking at the ceiling for Allabrahni was gone.
In Kalista’s room the young animist-wizard awoke.
“Ah, my girl. Araytor is proud of you,” Allabrahni beamed and took Kalista into an embrace.
“Now, what reward do you think is suitable from Araytor?”
“
“Of course my child,” Allabrahni touched Kalista on the forehead. A silver glow swelled and Kalista felt an energy surge through her. It was like her mind removed blocks and needles complexes – her soul grew.
When Kalista opened her eyes it was to a murky room without the safe warming glow of Allabrahni.
Don’ was already downstairs in the common room eating with the Dwarves. They all seemed distant and quiet, yet happy and content. Allabrahni had left a mark on their hearts and the enjoyed its lasting warmth.
“I had some questions answered,” Felghanis said as he joined them. He shared his impromptu interview with the angel to nods and smiles of approval.
“What should we do next?” It was Aenir who asked it once they were all fed.
“I’m not sure but my components are thin so I at least have to visit the markets,” Kalista said.
“The library likely holds answers for me. I want to know where the Iron Teeth Mountains is exactly and find out more about the Hrimpursar elders. Goran’s body needs to be buried. I can’t leave it there.”
“Goran’s body can wait, or someone else can take care of it, Felghanis.” Donhallan’s distaste for this was clear.
“What about the Scours?” Kellor aksed. “We might be able to catch them.”
“They’re too far gone,” Don’ said. “They have nearly a day’s head start on us and in the high plains it’ll be almost impossible to catch their trail.”
“You’re a bundle of joy,” Aenir mumbled into his beard.
Don’ scowled, “What we ought to be doing is finding out if Lady Sipran intends to go back to Vrim and then inform Lord Tovran.”
“Yes. Then let’s go see her,” Felghanis said.
“All of this is in one direction and we can stick together,” Kalista put forward, pleased that there was no need to separate.
The did so and at the Beaming Censer found the pompador they met last time.
“Ah, hello again. How may I help you?”
“We would like to speak to Lady Murelle, or Varnia, Sipran.”
The pompadour sat them in the lounge and returned shortly.
“Did you see an angel by the library last night, by chance"?”
“We saw a woman in a cloak,” Don said quickly, as Kalista covered her mouth in surprise.
“Oh. There are people looking for her and they’ll pay well to find her. If you see her do let me know.”
They were all distracted by the heavy footsteps of the shield guardian that shadowed Murelle Sipran to the lounge. Pompador left with a hurried bow.
“My young friends,” Lady Murelle said warmly but there was no smile.
The conversation was brief. Lady Sipran would be returning tomorrow.
The door of the Beaming Censer closed behind the last of them.
“She really had no idea what a treasure was passed down to her in the books,” Felghanis mused.
“It’s her dreams that bother me. She has so many that she can’t interpret them all. It’s sad,” Kalista added.
“Whatever the case she has been gracious and helpful. We will tell Lord Tovran.”
In the library they approached the keeper of books: the Blakh who was in four places at once. It smiled briefly.
“Is there a book on the Hrimpurar’s last tomb?”
“Hmm, this one may aid you.”
History of the Hrimpursar, Meyendir Aravalon – archmage & scholar.
The book was well-written and led them through many facts about the Hrimpursar, their society, and how they were exterminated by Kentos and his army. What stood out most to them was the Wunder Trial and how it was a requirement to enter the moot where debate for leadership of the clan could take place.
To Felghanis it was something else that stood out. Some of the elders who went to sleep, from which some would rise as Frost Titans, died or never came out of the last tomb. What if Hrimpursar had a ritual like a Baelnorn; undead guardian of a people? It caused tumultuous excitement but he contained it.
Brannighan was there for farewells and they left through the ‘private rooms’ of the Sipran family. Felghanis collected Goran’s corpse, two day old entrails fell all over him, and only Aenir would help.
Lord Tovran was pleased with their report and sent two servants with Felghanis to make the burial. He was surprised when Felghanis said he would bury Goran in the chapel’s graveyard.
The ground was hard and icy. With the rest of his party away Felghanis took a few spells on the shovel. It had been almost a lifetime since he’d unearthed a grave, or even dug one, and all that strength was lost. The servants were well used to labour and they kept at it far longer.
When Goran was interred Felghanis said a few words and instead of the normal closing line he replaced it with, “May Davinus watch over your soul.”
Something flew out of the grave. But it was so fast Felghanis thought he was seeing things.
One of the servants laughed, “That’ll teach him.”
The other answered, “Worshipping the wrong figure head. Everyone knows Davinus is the true head of the church.”
Felghanis was shocked. Not only did these peasants assume everyone knew that he felt something inside him. It was calling.
“Avenge me and I will aid you with the power of death.”
“What are you?”
“I am Goran.”
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Kiltayre: Session 22 review
Comments Off on Kiltayre: Session 22 reviewAs they were raised back to health, Kalista’s spells were spent, and they were all confused.
“It’s paradox, don’t you see,” Captain Villeroy said. “I’ve tried to press information from the librarian but he asks me three questions of which I can only answer one and then says that I wouldn’t understand.”
Villeroy repeated the questions and Felghanis opened his mouth to answer then the exceptions and contradictions came to mind. It was far more difficult than he first thought.
“I’ve heard it said that these are Chrono-loops. If you make them touch the past they can expend their energy to snap the loop shut. It is meant to be terribly destructive.”
They talked at length and it was decided that informing their past-selves was too dangerous. They had to hide. In a small sitting room they packed in and rested. Each of them was sore and weary. The healing was painful and it took time.
“It seems that I am in this loop, too.” Villeroy added. He stood up suddenly. “I think I have a scroll that can help,” he said excitedly and rushed upstairs.
He was gone for some time and the party talked about what they ought to do. What the books meant and what the motivations might be for the Scours and the Church to retrieve them all.
When Villeroy returned they had decided to play it safe. The Scours had defeated them handily and it was only luck that saved them. None of the party remembered what distracted the Scours from finishing each of them.
“This scroll has a spell called Body Outside of Body and with it I have a plan. Unfortunately the scroll is very expensive and I have to pay the guild back, so anything you can do to help would be appreciated.”
“We already did… oh wait. That hasn’t happened for you yet.”
“Did what? Pay me for the scroll.”
“You’ll see… if it works,” Felghanis answered.
Captain Villeroy Moragne gathered his things and just before they left cast the scroll. There he was standing next to himself. Without a word the copy went to the counter and nodded back to the original.
“Let us be off then.”
Traversing the Rift was not anywhere near as intense.
“Can I ask it questions?”
“What, the Rift Weave?”
“Yes. When we went through before I saw a vision of my Uncle scrying me. He seemed force to answer my question.”
“I… I don’t know. I’ve had visions in my experiments, although they were neve strong so I paid them no mind, but I never performed them when a storm was coming.”
Kalista seemed to have a grasp of that and she nodded.
The wind was the same as last time: biting, cold, horridly cold. They built a berm of snow and sheltered in a small depression a few hundred yards from where they exited the rift. Villeroy used a wand on all of them and Endure Elements removed the threat of deadly cold turning it into simply cool discomfort.
Five figures appeared out of the intensifying Rift Weave. They gathered around one of their number. Then they all saw the battle play out again. However, it was right in front of them. The temptation to try and change it was strong but they held their position. None of them knowing what might happen if one of these ‘Chronoloops’ snapped shut or willing to risk it.
The Scours were attacked by the watery form and they pursued it. Fiery rays, that seemed to emanate from above and behind Mellevictus, lanced through the elemental and blew it to steaming fragments. They gathered together then set off at a jog, hustling west.
Once the Scours were out of sight the party returned to Stonecrest. This time Villeroy asked for aid.
“I can move us to after you left the first time getting us past the loops and making it safe again,” he explained.
It was made so. Villeroy rushed of to rediscover his map to the Deep Earth Crystal mine and the party limped back towards the markets. Merchants and storekeepers were shutting up or outright leaving. The storm seemed to be having the city closing up.
“We need to rest.”
“How about the Wainwright Lodge?” Aenir pointed to a sign right near them.
It seemed as good as any. They entered and purchased rooms. Taking some ale and food they all rested, save Felghanis.
“I have to stop my Uncle,” he seemed on the edge of a rant. “I’m going to the library. Maybe Brannighan, or his parents, can help?”
“At least let Don’ rest.”
“I will stay with Don’,” Kellor volunteered. Yet the doughty dwarf was still burned and sore.
“This has to be safer than the Whaler’s Retreat,” Kalista agreed.
The market square was deserted. There were few people about, however strange, and of those few most seemed to be darting from cover to cover.
On the short walk to the library they noticed a narrow alley just past the markets. On one corner a pillar fashioned like a skeleton marked the entry. Down its narrow cobbled way signs and shingles bearing arcane symbols of necromancy hung in the increasing wind of the coming Rift Weave storm.
It took them quite some time to find Brannighan in the library. He smiled at them.
“Why do I get the feeling that those who refused my help seven times have come back to ask for it again?”
“What do you know of Davinus?” Felghanis asked.
“Davinus,” Brannighan mused. “I think that is the name of an old and faded Ascendant.”
“The Saint is the son and Davinus the father,” Kalista suggested. “Maybe the son seeks the throne of the father?”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Felghanis answered. Then he expanded, “The Saint uses the winter to force prayers towards him. He has sent priests all over the island, even to our Felk Bay, and they are ready to help the people in winter. Spells for protection from the cold, for making food, and those who refuse to believe will perish.”
Kalista couldn’t process it at that moment. Too much corruption and evil in a body she’d long thought was good and benevolent.
“It is my Uncle, though that worries me. He claims that he will use the Bell of Thullemon to raise and army. Then with it seize the throne of Davinus.”
Brannighan was interested, “Really? He has the Bell?”
“No, but he knows where it is and so do I.”
“You must tell me at once and I will tell my mother. She will be most interested.”
Kalista, Felghanis and Aenir shared glances: a real angel? The powers and dominions were aligning. Maybe the conjunction Jonas spoke of with Kalista was real. None of them voiced it, though. Felghanis spoke more with Brannighan but the half-angel, half-archon, seemed distracted as if carrying on two conversations.
“Mother is waiting for us outside,” Brannighan said gesturing to the library doors.
With little more ado they left. Bright white light shone from the bottom of the stairs and in the gloom of sunset in the angry sky of the Rift Weave storm it was plainly pure and good and peaceful.
“My boy,” she said in a beautiful clear voice that rang with music.
Brannighan blushed and met her affectionate embrace.
“Oh it is so good to see you again. Are these your friends?” She turned her gaze on them.
Each felt the same in differing degrees. All that was good in them she weighed and saw. All that was angry, or traitorous, or flawed felt like it was plainly in her sight. They writhed in their emotions and could barely meet her eyes.
“Yes. She’s quite nice,” Brannighan indicated Kalista.
“Ah, Kalista, is it?” Brannighan’s mother greeted Kalista.
“And Felghanis?” The angel gestured to him. “Aenir?”
They all nodded in reply.
“The Bell of Thullemon, you know where it is, Felghanis?”
“I think so. In the base of the Iron Tower.”
“Then let us go. There is no time to waste.” She furled her wings and gestured for them to lead her in the right direction. “We will collect your other friends and then the Bell will be retrieved and destroyed.”
“Destroyed?” Felghanis almost baulked.
“Of course. You know why, don’t you?”
Felghanis dissembled and the angel was plainly unimpressed.
“No. It’s simple, Brannighan?”
“Nothing good comes of evil,” he responded.
Felghanis could only look at the ground as they walked.
“Mother you really ought to hide your wings. There are people here who would try and take them from you.”
“Oh, very well.” With that she quickly changed shape, in a heartbeat perhaps, she looked like a tall woman and suddenly she pulled a cloak about her. None of them saw where the garment came from.
At the Wainwright Lodge they met with Kellor and Don’, who was feeling a lot better.
“Oh my,” she said sadly. “You are wounded.”
With a touch all of the batterings and punctures that Kellor had withstood from Thiridea’s poleaxe were mended and he bore a bright smile.
“Thank you fair lady,” he managed.
“Oh forgive me. Most of you carry wounds.” And she laid hands on them healing their ailments. “Now we must leave. Join hands with me.”
Kalista almost rushed at the chance and took her right hand. Felghanis summoned courage, or at least looked like he died, and took her left, the rest making up the circle.
“Where are we going?”
“The Iron Tower to destroy the bell.”
“I want to stay, Mother,” Brannighan said.
“Of course my love.”
They were in clouds that seemed to conceal ground, or were ground, they couldn’t tell. A host of winged men and women were far above singing beautiful choral music. It had the sound that it was just one passage that was part of a long tale of defence of innocence and the pursuit of truth.
Brannighan’s mother bowed with a broad smile. “I serve in a different way.” She turned her face upwards towards the light that the host were singing towards.
Crashing waves and a strong bitterly cold wind shook them all. Dark clouds were above and thick forest to their right. In the distance the spike of dark iron rose above the butte of stone. It was the Iron Tower.
“Not as close as I hoped. Let us walk,” she said and retook her natural form. Tall, over seven feet, and fair she walked with slow power and purpose.
They followed her lead and Don’ struggled to keep up. She kept taking his waist and setting him forward. After seven touches Don’s exhaustion was gone. After seven more touches he felt fresh again.
Swinging open on its impeccable hinges the door to the Iron Tower revealed it to be as they left it. Brannighan’s mother glowed with powerful light and they saw well in her illumination.
“You said there were creatures here? Of course, there were undead abominations. Where is the bell?”
She led, insisting to be ahead to protect them, the party downstairs. As they came closer to the pillar containing the crystal where Felghanis saw the bell she bade them to halt. “Wait here and I will deal with the trap.”
It was no threat at all, it seemed. The lightning bolt leapt towards her but she dodged it with ease. She halted before the pillar and looked intently for many heartbeats. Long enough that they began to doubt her ability to do anything. Then she vanished and reappeared cradling the bell in her arms, bearing its great weight.
She triumphantly pronounced, “For his glory!” With a soft flare of light she was gone.
In the silence and almost pitch darkness Kalista spoke first, “Do any of you have any food?”
Before they could answer the angel returned bathing them in her glow.
“My deepest apologies. I should have let you know I was coming back.”
The relief was evident even on Felghanis’ face. Thunder pealed and a metallic shattering rumbled through the rock into their ears.
Felghanis laughed. “I’ve beaten you, Uncle.”
“Now, my friends, I can take you anywhere in Kiltayre. Where will it be?”
“We want to go home,” Aenir ventured suddenly.
“Of course,” she said.
“But we promised to help them to complete their quest,” Kellor said.
Aenir seemed saddened but his resolve returned quickly. “Yes. Yes of course.”
“The Black Tower,” Kalista said. Everyone agreed.
"Brannighan’s mother concentrated for a few heartbeats. “I am sorry. The tower is surrounded by orcs and blakh. I will not take you within sight of the tower for your own safety.”
“Then back to Stonecrest,” Felghanis pushed. “I have research I want to do and more importantly Goran’s body must be buried correctly.”
“Goran’s burial is not our concern,” Donhallan said.
The angel seemed to narrow her eyes slightly but her voice was still peaceful. “To Stonecrest then?”
“Yes.”
They were standing right back in the Wainwright Lodge. If it weren’t for the darker room and less people they may not have even left.
“Thank you my friends. In the morning I will return and until then I would have you think on a reward suitable to further your defence of the people and your revelation of truth.”
The possibilities began to enter their minds but sleep beckoned with more strength. Within the hour they were all asleep in their rooms carrying a peace they had not felt for months upon their hearts.
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Kiltayre: Session 21
Comments Off on Kiltayre: Session 21“In business we have a saying. Deal with a problem before it grows too large and becomes beyond your ability to fix,” Aenir said.
The group had be back-and-forth over options and tactics.
“Well, the Beaming Censer is on the way to the North Gate,” said Kalista. “We can see Lady Sipran on the way.”
“And keep our pledge to Lord Tovran,” Don’ added.
“I really must ask you to reconsider. It is quite dangerous in Stonecrest,” Brannighan’s careful voice warned.
“Thank you but we must perform this task,” Kalista responded.
“Then, seeing as you have refused my aid and counsel seven times, I am realised from by bonds to protect you. I wish you luck in finding who, or what, you pursue.” With that he left and went about his business.
They too left the library and entered the streets. It was not as cold as they expected but the sky was strange bruised peach colour. Dark clouds, grey-purple, striped the sky. The streets were busy with foot traffic and people pulling rickshaws carrying richly robed figures.
“I expected wizards flying about the city and displays of powerful magic,” Kalista muttered.
“That would be wasteful,” Felghanis answered.
It was a dozen yards or more before they identified what was disturbing.
The Beaming Censer was close and they entered quickly. It was richly appointed with polished wood panelling and carpets from wall to wall. They felt out of place and even Aenir seemed unsure of himself. A concierge approached them with a warm smile.
“Are you seeking rooms?”
“We seek a guest here, or at least we think she’s here, Lady Sipran of Vrim.”
“Ah, yes. Please won’t you wait in the lounge whilst I pass on the message. Who shall I say seeks her audience?”
“Lord Mikhail Tovran sends us.”
The concierge bowed his head politely and departed.
Hanging on the walls of the lounge were numerous paintings. Most depicted the city under wheeling clouds that spiralled over the tall tower dominating Stonecrest’s skyline.
“What is that, you suppose?”
“A storm?”
“Who is it that seeks Lady Murelle Sipran?”
The woman’s voice was strong, commanding even, and when they turned to face her she wore a veil covering her face from below the eyes all the way down. Behind her stood a shield guardian.
“Lord Tovran sent us to find Lady Murelle,” said Don’.
They exchanged words and Varnia was bristling; even defensive. She took a fighting stance.
“Who are these people, Varnia?” An older woman’s voice approached.
“They claim that Mikhail sent them, Mother.”
“Why did he send you?” The lady asked as she entered the lounge. She seemed very old and moved slowly as if in some pain yet bore it with dignity. Varnia hovered at her left seeking to attend to her. The shield guardian was at the doorway.
“To find out why you fled the keep.”
“To save my family line,” Lady Murelle said simply. “We are the last four of the Sipran blood. The last women of the line and against the fiend that attacked our home we had no chance of victory.”
“But your a powerful spellcaster?” Don’ protetsted.
“Who told you that?” Lady Murelle was wry. “Once, I was a competent sorceress. Age has taken that away leaving me with only a few talents and my visions.”
“You did not see it coming?” Felghanis was incredulous.
“No. My visions have never been so accurate and simple. I had a recurring dream in these last months. The winter…” she waved it away.
“We seek to stop that winter from returning.”
They explained the books of Fimbulwinter and Lady Murelle did not know them. Even after Felghanis stated that Lord Kentos had left one with the family generations ago she had no idea.
“It makes sad sense, though. I saw a hand of stone and bears, a pair of them, chasing three trees that even though didn’t move were elusive. I saw winter setting in all the year round and far away an empty throne. The empty throne of Davinus.”
“Davinus? That was Kentos’ liege,” Kalista said
“Davinus, was the great-thane of Kiltayre, the first king, and ascended to become the true god of the Church and all Kiltayre.”
Felghanis, Donhallan, Kalista, Aenir, and Kellor were all stunned.
“What? Davinus is the god of the Church?”
“Yes. It was Davinus who ascended to the throne of Kiltayre and founded the Church. It is why in Vrim we do not follow the teachings of the Saint. But I must leave you now. I am so tired and so struck with grief. I take my leave.”
Varnia escorted her mother from the room and the shield guardian followed them with heavy footsteps.
“Someone is trying to become a god,” Felghanis conjectured.
“In business we have a saying. Deal with a problem before it grows too large and becomes beyond your ability to fix,” Aenir said.
Kellor nodded, “We need to stop Jonas and take back the book.”
The party flew into a torrent of speculation. Kellor and Aenir stood to one side and spoke quietly. It seemed to motivate the others and they collected their gear to head out into the streets again.
North of the Beaming Censer was the markets. A large square filled with stalls, stands, tents and carts selling goods ranging from mundane food to exotic focii, and services from basic healing to forging of magical staves.
“Maybe we can find a way to heal my arm?” Aenir said. Together with Kellor the split off to search the sellers for a cure.
“There’s the Amorrensis Trade Guild chapter house,” Donhallan pointed to a three storey narrow-house near the north gate.
Felghanis, Kalista and Don’ pushed open the doors and came into a small room with a counter. Two men were standing to one side waiting. Each was kitted out with packs and ropes as if going on an expedition. They gestured to go to the counter and made room. A man in lead-grey robes looked up as the door closed and Kalista saw the Captain from the stone ship.
“Ah, this a surprise.” The Captain said. “Have you brought me Fenris?”
Kalista’s heart skipped a beat; he remembered them.
“No. We have not but we did see him.”
Felghanis chipped in, “He’s compelled by some force, probably the lords of Elemental Water. I don’t think he’s in control of himself.”
“That may be the case and could explain a few things,” said the Captain, musing on the idea.
“How did you come to be here?” Kalista almost blurted out.
“Well, it was a bit of bad luck and good luck. After the ship was destroyed I was going to be banished from the guild. Luckily I had, well stole, the crystal you were carrying and that enabled me to purchase my station but with a transfer to this chapter house. I will miss the sea but at least I am still with the Amorrensis. I really should give you my name. Villeroy Morgane, Captain.”
“Morgane; isn’t that Fenris’ name, too?” Kalista asked.
“Yes, he is my cousin. Thankfully he takes no issue with me personally. He is a dangerous man, and luckily I can keep tabs on him through his sword. Which I knew I’d probably not be able to prevent him recovering. Maybe I should have had twice as many guards.” He sighed, “It is done now. He has it back that horrid blade of man bane. But enough of me, how can I help you? Maps, guides, travel, other services?”
“We plan to go through the Rift Weave, can you help with that?”
“There is a storm coming so at the least tie yourselves together. The guards told me that some people left recently through the gates.”
“That’s who we pursue.”
“People from the Church?” Villeroy asked. “Well they left nearly two and a half hours ago. You’ll have a hard time catching them, if indeed you even can. I could help you for a price.”
“Well, we know of a place you can get more of those crystals, possibly.”
“That seems a fair trade to me,” Captain Villeroy was excited. “There’s even a way I could perhaps help you close that gap in time. You see after some research over the last weeks I have found that with enough spell energy and will one can travel a short way through time’s passing by riding certain currents in the Rift Weave.”
Felghanis was drawing a map on a scrap of parchment. He finished it and handed it to Villeroy.
“Ah, I know this place. It makes sense that a mine may be there.”
They talked a little more and it was decided. Villeroy would help them cross back to when the Scours left in exchange for that map of the Deep Earth Crystal mine at the Hand of Gulresh.
“My arm!” The door flew open and Aenir burst in with Kellor beaming a huge smile behind him.
“It’s healed.” He flexed his hand a few times. “I think it’s even stronger than it used to be. Kellor, let’s test it.”
They gripped hands and tried to crush each others palm.
“Aye, I think it is stronger,” Kellor nodded.
With a renewed Aenir they left Stonecrest to be met with a roaring wind. The Rift Weave was ahead of them. A swirling mirage-like scene of wavering landscapes covered in snow and backed by tall mountains. The storm was closer and the Rift Weave seemed almost alive. Parts of it seemed to reach and grasp. They tied themselves together and approached.
“You may see some things in the Rift Weave that appear as visions. Pay them no mind. It’s some time of time leak. In the storms they are more active and will be quite visible. Head forwards,” Captain Villeroy said loudly to be heard.
They walked forward, a bit stumbling because of the rope at first, and entered the Rift Weave. Creatures or spirits started swirling around them pulling at their clothes and brushing their cheeks.
“Pay them no mind, they’ll leave soon …”
But Felghanis bristled at the attention. He surged with negative energy and the things harrying the others surged away to congregate on Fel’.
“Don’t do that. They feed on that energy. You’ll have them all trying to drain you,” Villeroy warned.
Felghanis ceased instantly and then there was a pull on the rope. The landscape swirled and darkened. He saw a flare of purple lightning and a tear of blackness. Beyond his Uncle seemed to be sitting at his desk.
“Uncle?”
The dread necromancer unlocked and opened a drawer, retrieved a large crystal ball and began peering into it.
“Uncle?” Felghanis asked again.
“Felghanis? What… what are you doing?”
“What is your plan, Uncle? What are you doing?”
“I…” Fel’s uncle seemed to be struggling against some force. “I won’t tell…”
Faint traces of purple electricity ran from the orb up Uncle’s arms.
“Tell me!” Felghanis pushed.
Like he was straining against it physically, a compulsion of the mind, Fel’s uncle suddenly seemed to wilt. “I… I will seize the bell and with it raise an army. Then, then, I will take the throne for myself!”
With a mewling scream Uncle fell forward.
Kalista was in silence. The Rift Weave seemed to have gone quiet. A curved wall seemed to loom into view. There was the sound of battle and fallen bloodied men lay about. It was the Iron Tower’s library where the Scours were killed by the steel dog. Jonas and another man fought the construct and suddenly Fenris seized the other man driving a dagger between his ribs from behind.
Jonas pushed them both away and felled the steel dog with a might blow from his war axe. Fenris scrambled to his feet and Jonas seemed to simply no longer be there. The Scour had seized the book of Fimbulwinter and moved through a door. He pushed it closed as Fenris rushed him with a wicked looking arming sword. Try as he might Fenris couldn’t get through the door.
It was suddenly dark. Kalista could see a figure kneeling in prayer before an old altar. Suddenly a second figure was standing there. The scene lightened and Kalista recognised the chapel at Vrim. Jonas stood and turned to Mellevictus and they seemed to be talking but she could not hear any of their words.
They were standing before Goran. This time she could hear.
“You will go to the inn and ransack the necromancer’s room. Then place his rapier under the girl’s bed.”
Kalista could see Felghanis’ old rapier in Goran’s hand as the Scour went out into the snow.
A swirl of deep purple like the worst type of contusion. Jonas and all the Scours save Goran were standing at the narrow path to the Sipran Keep. He drew out the Iron Flask.
Mellevictus protested, “You can’t do this.”
Jonas said some arcane phrases and threw the flask down. The demon appeared in a haze of rust streaked smoke and surged up the path with its terrible blade held high.
Twisting, a wrenching sensation, in her perception and Kalista saw Goran in a cell. Jonas approached and seized the door. The Scour, the werebear mentor of Thiridea, ripped the door from its hinges, iron bending like clay. Jonas seized the cowering Goran by the collar and threw him through the portal to the waiting demon. It cut Goran down in two swings and that was just enough time for Jonas to step through and cast the Dismissal which sent it back to the Pale of War.
“They’re evil. So evil and cruel. The Church is lost,” Kalista thought.
Like a ship heaving beneath them they suddenly found themselves in a cold biting wind. Ahead of them the Scours were gathered around Jonas.
“Quick, hand me the book,” Jonas says to Mellevictus.
Thiridea reacts first. “Enemies!”
Before anyone can respond she hurt Felghanis, some telekinetic effect launched him with enough force to nearly knock over the dwarves crushing him in the rope, and advanced with her poleaxe.
Felghanis cried out, “I claim sanctuary in the Saint’s name.”
“Necromancers have no protection from the Church,” Thiridea yelled back.
“Wait!” Jonas commanded. “I would hear what he as to say.”
“My uncle plans to steal the throne using the Bell of Thullemon.”
“You know where the bell is?”
“I think so. In the Iron Tower, the crystal in its base.”
Jonas nods and then, annoyed, pulls Thiridea back. “Get back here.”
Felghanis pushed, “My Uncle wishes to overthrow Davinus.”
“Has he retrieved the bell already?”
“No I don’t…” That was as far as Felghanis got with his response.
Jonas cast a spell. Fire and divine force smashed down on the party. Felghanis, Kalista and Aenir fell to the ground. Then Thiridea leapt to the attack. With Willem’s long spear and Frellan’s Spiritual Weapon to support her she finished them quickly.
“Finish them…” Jonas commanded but he was struck by a powerful blow of ice.
A figure had risen out of the ice to attack. Thiridea lead the charge.
Guards, the lizardmen, came out of the Rift Weave.
“Ah, there. The fire of gods led us here. See… it is as the old one said.”
They gathered up the party and bound their wounds.
“We take them to Villeroy. He might help.”
“And he close,” added another.
In the trade guild Kalista was woken first.
“This is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you again. Have you found Fenris?”
“No… didn’t we already have this conversation?” Kalista strained against her disorientation.
“I haven’t seen you since you left me at Plateau Point…” Captain Villeroy trailed off. “The guards said they found you outside the Rift Weave. Had you just left Stonecrest, by any chance?”
Kalista nodded sadly. They had come back before they left and this Captain Villeroy had indeed never met them since Plateau Point.
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Passing the Rift Weave
Comments Off on Passing the Rift WeaveAround Stonecrest is a rift in the weave of time and space. This makes Stonecrest a place that is slightly out of time and space of the island of Kiltayre, and perhaps other places.
Traversing the Rift Weave requires intent and power. Stonecrest is therefore the home of various wizards, sorcerors, geomancers, clerics, priests and archmages.
The mechanic for traversing the Rift Weave is a pretty simple Will save. Base DC is 20 to get through to within sight (0-5 miles) of the location (Kiltayre of Stonecrest). Failure means you’re a random distance in a random direction from the target location area and you take subdual damage equal to the failure margin – which is also the distance in miles.
Example: Base DC 20, Will save total is 14. Displaced 6 miles in random direction and take 6 subdual damage.
However, you can alter the time of arrival by 30 minutes forward or back if you pour power into the travel. This raises the DC by 5 per 30 minutes. Each SL of power added to the group’s travel, if they are tied together, adds to the Will save. A guide, or guides, can add power but not go through the rift.
Minimum power required is 1 SL per person. If time alteration is intended the minimum is 3 SL per person. There is no discount or surcharge for large or small creatures.
Example: a party is going through Rift Weave with a guide. The total SL added to the travel is 16. Each party member who is tied together can add 16 to the Will save. The guide stays behind.
If the DC is 50 or higher, then the power requirements double. This restricts time traversed to 3 hours.
Using the Rift Weave to traverse time more than your level in hours per week has some nasty side-effects– like long-term spell-energy drain (lose PP, or SL, available per day), negative levels, ability drain and in rare cases internal anti-magic matrices that prevent the recovery of any magical energy whatsoever (even Supernatural Abilities).
The last effect of traversing the Rift Weave is the energies can dispel existing enchantments. Roll 2d20 as a caster level check against each effect.
It is a potentially dangerous things and it keeps most hostile spellcasters out of Stonecrest; since they rarely want to arrive depleted.
In light of all this the Rift Weave still has secrets. The time-travel component is not widely known and there are entities within, some attracted to negative energy, others attracted to positive energy. In all it is a risky move and each trip is different.
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Kiltayre: Session 21, ideas
Comments Off on Kiltayre: Session 21, ideasWell, after the last session I think it’s pretty straight-forward what the players will do. They’ll go to the hotel, the Beaming Censer, and try to question the Siprans. After that they’ll pursue Jonas’ group of Scours and Inquisitors out the North Gate.
Thankfully for me I’ve got this covered pretty well. Last session (20) I had under-prepared and had to wing a lot of it. It always goes a bit more awkward with the fine detail so I’ve done a lot of prep for 21.
What will be an obstacle is the Rift-Weave that surrounds Stonecrest. I’ve got an intersting mechanic to handle that but I’ll not share it until session 21 is complete. Thankfully that is tomorrow night! We’ve moved the game from Sunday to Friday night because my son is now one year old.