The Primeval Dark (IC)

[Mornings]

Faux Paw

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(Complete) Main Quest: Dreaming, In Memory of Waking
Horror and death choke the City of Monuments. Otherworldly terrors accost the city and devour the living by the thousand. He didn't understand how he arrived here, but somehow he had escaped the grasp of the banishing dark - only to find himself in a city-turned-hell. He didn't know how long he could hold out amidst the siege, but his life was quickly draining out from his cursed wounds. He had to survive, no matter the cost.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Insight & Paths Influence | Time: 0/2 Rounds
Primary Objective: Survive Quest Duration.

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The world was rolling, toppling over upon itself; or so it had felt. His feet, stuck in the knee deep bloody sludge of organs and pureed fleshy tissue made each step a struggle as the pool pulled him down - he fell. His weight slid him across the surface and deeper into the muck raking his knees across buried stairs he couldn't see downward into the interior of the stone building. His fall slowed into a stop part way down and a figure below raced forward from the gloom, grasping him and pulling him out with a sucking belch of air as the pools of gore released him. Everything was tipping and tossing as a handful of the living managed to throw themselves down into the entrance. It was a woman, the one who retrieved him, at least as far as he could tell between the filth running down his face and nearly blinding him, and what little light could still be made out. She dragged him and another man inside, one in each hand. His body skated along the surface of the dry stone like a wet piece of soap across glass, before being dropped like a befouled sack of fruit, landing with a wet slap. He could feel it pervade every space of his body now.... the finely ground remains of people. [Status (Faux) | Drenched III ]

Spoiler: Status: Drenched

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Drenched
Liquid drenches the character’s body, soaking the clothing and increasing the weight of the items. Characters that are inflicted with this status effect have their carrying weight increased by 10 lbs. In addition, while under this status effect, any lightning spells and effects inflict an additional 1d6 points of lightning damage. However, any fire spells and effects that deal fire damage remove the status effect. By spending 1 round, the character can also remove the wet clothing as well to remove the status effect. Certain abilities may stack this condition multiple times, inflicting a scaling weight increase, but no other changes to this condition's effects unless stated otherwise.

[Current Weight: +30 lbs]

His own smell was worse than anything else about them. Even moreso than even the reaches of the sluice tunnels which raced off below them, by a thousand-fold. It was almost more than he could bear, the scum dripping from his skin and clothes irritated the flesh beneath. An itchy burning sensation accompanied the horrid stench. It smelled like the contents of some jarred fetid birthing pool housing countless decaying fetal corpses in some sick alchemists laboratory. His body lurch fighting back the urge to wretch. The heavy stone door slammed shut behind them as the woman slammed it shut with a heavy hand as if it were far lighter than it appeared, plunging them in darkness. After a brief moment, a rasp of flint shown a soft glow through the chamber from the end of a torch. Of the two others who had made it inside before the woman closed the entrance, only one still remained. The other man silently stared off blankly into the dark of the ceiling above, the lower half of his body missing, tracing a bloody path of gore back towards the exit. The other whom their savior had carried with him was a guard of some sort, though irregular in appearance. He wasn't dressed in the standard apparel of the city's defenders, but rather rich heraldry upon his tabard and armor. He was hunched over, shaking his head desperately as he pulled the garb off and threw it down to the ground with a sickening slap as the wet fabric hit the ground. "No one else made it in... It's just us." [Wretched Stench: DC 14 Fortitude Save Vs Sickened & Extended Quest Duration]

The light illuminated Woman the woman's stern face. Evidently noble, or of some significant standing within the city based on the finery she wore and her adamantine armor. "What of the participants within the Colosseum." The man nodded, "Evacuated. Captain Kantiki believed you. If we live through this, gods help us in seeing that debt paid." The woman nodded, "Then you've already accomplished more than I. Futile efforts." "No, I didn't have any other route out of there, and I'm sure our new friend can appreciate being alive." The man climbed back up to his feet with some effort, "I left some friends at Heidmarch Mannor. We secured the House of Lords, I need to head back. They're blocking the gates now, and I haven't heard back from the men I sent out on the wall. We'll rally at the courts and try to break through the south-end if we can." The man, likely approaching his mid-thirties had tired eyes and a small platinum colored beard on his chin, but it didn't look like his facial hair liked to grow in many other places. He grinned a Faux with a disheveled air, "It's a pleasure to meet you, friend. It's a miracle you've managed to keep in once piece through this insanity. I'm Roland, no one of any particular import, but this is Lady D'Aritel. She's a strong warrior, she'll get you out of here, but if you get separated make your way towards the House of Lords. It's the only place we've managed to drive back the enemy from. Good luck." The man didn't wait to trade words, but said his piece, gave a nod towards the armored woman, then dove off the large ledge vanishing in the grim of the sewer canals which branched off from the chamber beneath them.

She was a stoic, intimidating woman. Her sapphire eyes were hard, as cold as ice. Even her jaw was firm. She lived up to the tales, after all, the Lady D'Aritel was something of a local celebrity. Prior to the recent civil in-fighting between the factions of lords, and a clash which occurred recently for control of the city, her house had largely been overlooked. Lord D'Aritel, her father, had personally led the separatist 'rebel' faction that had unseated the Lord-mayor and conquered the city. It had been a brief and bloody battle that Magnimar had yet to fully recover from, a fact that their enemy appeared not to have missed. The 'Ice Princess', as her subjects called her behind her back, had become more prominent in conversation than even her father. While he was sure the tales from the battle had been radically exaggerated, the stories men told said the woman possessed such superhuman strength that during the conflict she toppled a building down upon a group of loyalist soldiers with her bare hands. Prior to the lord's daughter, the only thing the House had been remembered for was the family sword now passed on to her. The sword, Gri'atal, was some ancient artifact from a child's fairytale. Perhaps no more than another old dusty sword, but a significant object of lore nonetheless. It was a curiosity which represented the right of inheritance within a minor noble family. "Lets go." His legs felt like blocks of cement as the surface of the gelatinous sludge had fastly begun drying to encase him beneath some stiff clay-like cement barrier to freeze him in place, like a living statue. [Back On Your Feet: DC 16 Will Save Vs Extended Duration 2]

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Main Quest: Waking, A Song of Mourning and Light
Hellish screams were all that had become familiar within this nightmarish dreamscape. The only certainty which pervaded the mind was the knowing, that a dream, no matter how horrid, was still just a dream. Even the pain was distant here. Numbing and dazing, and sharp. Yet with each passing moment, it seemed like the claws grew sharper, and the gloom, more deep. Even they, the nightmares, patiently waited, as if aware of their own imaginary state. Still, they smiled. Dark laughter as they attempted to bury you. With each passing moment, it felt as if the dream were becoming more real... It threatened to even overcome your sense of reality. Everything within screamed out, that should you idle for long, you would never return... yet you were compelled to stay, to see something more, because something was coming. Even without you, somewhere the nightmare still churned beneath the surface. Even without you, it would come back to drown out the real, but perhaps somewhere in this some secret remained. A clue to ending the wretchedness rising up to pervade this world.
Difficulty: Unknown | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: 4/4 Rounds
Primary Objective: Unknown

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Spoiler: Status

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֍ Faux +400 (1,750xp)
HP 19/33 (2 bleed)
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 3
⭍ [Cursed Wound] 2 Bleed, DC 22 Heal (full-round action)
⭍ [Wounding Curse] Fast Healing & Regeneration Disabled. Cannot Heal Grievous Wounds. Cannot Recover Hit-Points. Harms Others. Cure Unlearned.
AC 19
Extra Effort Used: 2/6
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Freedom Influence Gained
⯎ Tactics Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Dreams Influence Gained
⯎ Intrigue Influence Gained
⯎ Nightmare Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Night Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Insight Influence Gained
⯎ Paths Influence Gained
⯎ Sickness Influence Gained
⯎ Slaughter Influence Gained
⯎ Acquired [Clear Dagger] - Unidentified
⯎ The House of Lords +100 (1,850xp)
⯎ Battle on the Wall +150 (2,000xp)
⯎ Lady D'Aritel +300 (2,300xp)
⯎ Roland +400 (2,700xp)
⯎ Lord D'Aritel, the Night of Tears +100 (2,800xp)
⯎ Gri'atal +300 (3,100xp)

[Ancient]

Varag Chalk
The Sacrificed

The Red, the damnable RED, threatened to consume him...her...US. The shade behind them..ME...looked hunger, cold, dangerous. But what was that? A glimmer off to the side...IT looked, promising, important. Maybe it was a weapon, right now she....I needed something, ANYTHING, to hang onto, Varag needed hope.

I am Hope.

No! I am Varag!

Varag is not enough, We are not enough, there is more.

More? Varag leapt at that fading glimmer of hope with the desperation of a man who knew how bad things could get. Snatching at it, she began to flee from the shade once again. Varag focussed his will once again. The Steppes had not claimed him, the Streets had not claimed him, and the Damned Red would not take him either.

Don't worry Hope, I've lost everything else, I won't lose you.

He hoped, she was so weak, and the night was so cold.

Spoiler: OOC and Actions

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Making a quick grab at the glimmer and running away from the shade to across the bridge in all do haste, even if it costs me a double move.

Perception (at the glimmer): (1d20+11)[25]
Sense Motive (at the scary shade): (1d20+9)[19]
Sense Motive (at the others): (1d20+9)[19]
Will Save: Displacement: (1d20+10)[18]

[forg99rules]

The cold slowly seeped into his bones making him question just how this girl had survived in this frigid land. Having made his way to the bridge he looks around before spotting the glimmer of light, slowly reaching down he reaches out for the glimmer digging into the snow hoping that whatever it was would provide some sort of benefit to him. Taking a look around he slowly begins to cross the bridge wondering what the one he is linked to was doing. He hated being linked to someone, having his life in their hands. As he slowly crossed the bridge he kept his eye out for anything out of the ordinary as well for whatever being he had felt following him before.

Spoiler: OOC

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ACTIONS
Move Action (substituting for a Swift): Picking up the Memory
Standard Action: Moving Stealthily to H7
Stealth: (1d20+15)[34]
Perception: (1d20+19)[28]
[Instability]: (1d20+10)[29]

A sigh escaped her mouth as she figured that there was no way to get out of this trial. Taking a look around she wonders if she will be able to return to this place so that she can complete her task or if she will have to start all over in searching for a way to gain a servitor. "I wouldn't say I am ready yet since I don't even know exactly what I should expect at this Trial. Would you be able to elaborate more on what will take place at it? As well is there a specific way that I should be acting at this trial? I don't want to go into it blind not knowing what is expected of me." Her mind began to mull over ways that she could defend herself at the trial, while the enforcer was right that she had committed a crime without knowledge she hoped that they would look and see that she had no Intent to commit a crime as well she did not intend to cause any damage.

Spoiler: OOC

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Know Abstract: (1d20+30)[50] - To try and figure out what sort of defense i can mount against the charges

[Mornings]

The men above quickly set themselves to scrambling up the wall, but Walt had learned now that mindless haste was just as dangerous as hesitant caution. Purposefully, he focused on the task at hand, retrieving his tools and strapping himself in as securely as he could. He could feel the wall of the lopsided floor softly shudder beneath his feet, like a heavy box thudding into a wall in some other room of a house. His mind could draw some off-handed conclusions, but likely the water had flooded the previous chamber completely just now. It was impossible to fully grasp just what that might mean in this backward place, but he could appreciate the gravity of the implications that no possible answer could be beneficial to them. Looking up, his eyes couldn't make out the end of the long corridor's shaft; this was the last push. They would need to move quick. He begun scaling the crooked floor tiles upward into the grim expanse above.

It felt like scaling the surface was becoming easier, but he wasn't sure if he should be glad... He felt, changed. Kazik had come far too close to whatever the red void was, but he doubted it was anything as merciful as death. It was a brush with the beyond, something men couldn't understand. His body felt it. It was like a tingle running down his arms and dancing under his eyelids like light itch; then his hair stood on end. He could feel it. The void, the beyond. All those unknowable things, they were fastly approaching, surging, baring down over them like a flood held at bay behind a crumbling dam's gate. Then.... there, something changed, or perhaps, he was what changed. It came to him like a sudden and eerie sense, distant like an uncomfortable pressure behind the eyes and an intangible air of wrongness like a veil of anxiety. Having been pursued by others, he was no stranger to that 'sixth sense' that seemed to draw more keen from the subconscious eye that could peel back his world and reveal things he could not perceive. Like a gut-feeling, or the certainty of when one was being watched by something unseen. He had that feeling now. Something else.... Something in this hall. It wasn't 'here', it wasn't some physical force, but now something had come... manifested, aligning their instance and its own in some way. It was the soft vibration in the air. The silent hum in his ears. The humid prickling sense of wrong slowly running up his back, like moments before something struck from the dark. Moments. Seconds.... DING. DING. DING. [Kazik (Attunement) | Survival - Success]

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Potential Acquired (Kazik): Otherworld Adaptability - Climbing I (General)
Men became stronger, they learned to change... or they died. You have learned to overcome limitations that defeat lesser men, and have scaled the surfaces of crumbling towers through the breach of ruined worlds. Faced with impossible tasks, you held on when no man could. The might of the horrid beasts which have pursued you through your climb has suffused into your being, granting you inhuman vigor and resilience.

Benefit: The Adapted gains Skill Focus (Climb) as a bonus feat, even if he does not meet the prerequisite. If he already possesses this feat he receives a +3 bonus to climb checks instead. If the Adapted's strength score is below 10, it is considered to be 10 for the purpose of climbing. The armor check penalty on climb checks from any armor or encumbrance he possesses is reduced by 2. The Adapted's otherworldly journey has made him capable of withstanding crippling blows and fighting on past his own limits. All checks or saves made to attempt movement or maintaining a grip while climbing are rolled twice using the best result. If the Adapted becomes fatigued while climbing, he may attempt a DC 10 fortitude save to delay this condition for 1 round. Each subsequent use of this ability increases the DC by 5, however this DC resets after the Adapted rests for 1 hour. Additionally, if the Adapted is rendered helpless or unconscious while climbing he maintains his grip for 1 round before falling. The Adapted's Strength and Dexterity increase by 4.

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The familiar sound of the rustling static of the recorded voice from somewhere off in the distance sounded again. "Six. This is the sixth record since I discovered her.... it. Maybe it's 'god', or something man has yet to find... maybe she's all of us. It knows everything. Anything, every thing has ever known, or will know. Somewhere in it, in that sea of voices, my wife has been lost. I am certain now, there is no hope that she will return. Even if it were systematic, normalized and regular, with some assurance she would be seen again, like a man waiting his turn in line... The 'line' has no end, it's made up of those born and unborn, living and dead... If there is some method to the madness of the infinite, I've yet to find it. I've relocated all other patients. It's too dangerous here now for regular work, it's the best I can do to isolate it from influencing the others. Professor, if this record finds you, you must ensure it remains so. No one must enter this place... No one can come here. It's watching."

Erik squinted to make out the shape of the hand pulling itself up from the entrance of the door Kazik was swiftly making his way towards with his one good arm. It was a wonder the man could still manage the ascent, it was a struggle with two good hands as his blood slick gauntlets skated the surface. The figure pulled itself up and out from the room before something struck, blowing off the top half of its torso sending it crumbling down into the hall mutely before it vanished without a trace; some transparent colorless human shape. It was like an after-image, something that had been once. Then again... the hand rose up again. This time all the more real, and filled with color, bringing Kazik to pause on his perch upon the wall below the lip of the room's entrance. The young woman dove into a tumble, as if to avoid some invisible 'thing' passing, but nimbly catching the floor across the hall almost level with where the masked man paused. Transparent and ghostly, the figure lurched forward into another dive throwing herself up and to the side with great strength, as if to avoid something else. She climbed as they did, as if that place were exactly as their own. The narrow twists and bounding continued as she ascended, tossing from left to right on either ends of the ascending well of the corridor before she vanished out of sight like dissolving mist. Black hair. Erik had never seen the girl before, she wasn't an inmate here, no prisoner. Her clothes and the pieces of half-plate she wore weren't at all reminiscent of the cloistered vestments of the Inquisition, the silent specter was something, someone, independent. It was like an passing echo of someone who had come before them. A creeping sense of alarm begun to seep into his thoughts, as the vision of the figure being blasted into bits replayed in his mind, then... [Narrow Escape: DC 16 Acrobatics Check | +2 bonus (Erik) & +4 Bonus (Kazik) | Vs Flaming Grievous Wound]

Spoiler: Collapse, Stage 1 - Surviving A Crumbling Reality

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Collapse can be caused by numerous things, and while the event is seen as exclusive to Tainted Land - it isn't. Escaping from regions in a state of Collapse is always a top priority. In some cases being swept up by such a phenomenon can sweep up players and bring them to strange new places... However, typically, and far more frequently... It's just the end. Collapse begins by a failed Regional Stability check and quickly escalates until the whole of the effected zone is utterly destroyed, or left in a state no longer recognizable. As the taint slowly expands over the years, the threat of the world turning into swiss-cheese will leer its ugly head and force even the everyday citizens of the world to face the reality that is the coming apocalypse.

Falling into the void here spells your immediate death - there's no crawling out of that fall. Now that the instance has decided to murder itself, players will need to expeditiously get the hell out of here - or rather, flee as far as possible until the clock ticks down. Fortunately, as this is the tutorial, there is a maximum distance the collapse can cover - however in a real event, you'll need to rely on every team-member, contingency and preparation you've taken to escape a Sector with the utmost urgency, as the entire map may effectively be 'erased'. Being caught in such a circumstance while exploring tainted regions is bad, and also means a great deal of 'red flags' were missed on the way up to that critical state. Collapse within a Sector is always much quicker than other forms which might be experienced, and are typically just not good things that you want to avoid. Numerous tools, devices and effects exist which can help further the likelihood of survival for those experiencing such a dangerous encounter. Additionally the effects caused by a Collapse aren't necessarily permanent, and can be reversed with some effort, the effectiveness of such an event varies by the mode in which it's accomplished.

Spoiler: Spite, Brands and Scorn, Oh My!

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There exist numerous forces and energies which represent the level of attention or Malice a player has acquired from the Fates and the greater forces of the multiverse, such as the L'Dalharen. Spite is a universal pool of energy shared by all players currently in the game. A single player cannot receive greater than 100 points of spite, but the pool across all players in the game is jointly 100 points. If one player possesses 80 points of spite, another player cannot also possess 40 points. This distribution is unrelated to circumstance, position or environment (yes, even if you're in another 'universe'). Various thresholds of acquired Spite, depending on the method of how it was acquired, can inflict crippling effects. Some Potentials utilize Spite as a resource for various functions, but such abilities should be utilized with care. When Spite among the total number of players reaches a maximum, the player which has possessed the highest sum among the non-gaining members the longest looses an applicable amount of Spite, passing it to gaining players.

Brands are a resource and curse applied by Fates, or their derivatives such as Greater Spirits (Relicuum and Praeter) for favors and services. Upon gaining a Brand, Spite cannot be lost or utilized, but is still reduced when the total Spite pool amongst the players has reached its max. However, unlike normal redistribution, Branded players are always considered on the bottom of the list of applicable players when determining where Spite must be taken from. A Branded player cannot have their Spite value reduced below 10 while other non-branded players possess Spite, and their total Spite value cannot be decreased to 0 even if that would result in other players gaining 0 Spite themselves. Players who cannot receive Spite always receive a Brand instead.

Scorn is a greater form of Spite, representing a hatred from the governing powers of the multiverse for imbalances and perversions a player has introduced to a universe. This resource is not easily earned and is usually associated with large and significant alterations which radically alter the flow of the game. This level of change is usually something drastic, with effects easily seen by all players. Intentional intervention is required to earn Scorn and create the radical results associated with it, unlike Spite. A player may only possess a maximum of 10 points of Scorn without the associated Potentials. While severe effects are usually inflicted for each point of Scorn gained, reaching the character's maximum value will often result in their destruction. This resource is utilized by a handful of unique abilities and mythic Potentials.

Spoiler: Death from the Second World

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A great deal of powerful otherworldly effects and forces exist out there - because they're actually from another world. Strange and foreign, these powers can inflict levels of severe punishment not normally seen in typical powers and abilities. Severance is such an example.

Safeguarded by the fearsome and secretive Coven of the Nightmare Witches of E'Spdon Valdruk, Severance is a school of magic which shares its name with a violent and natural energy deep within the roots of the universe, though its use has been largely long forgotten in the Second World. The crippling magics woven with such forces by the abominable entities beyond sow horrid annihilating waves of death in your world, obliterating life and natural matter even from the slightest exposure. Severance effects always Wound. They are one of many effects which gain the benefit of various Potentials or unique features when utilized in such a fashion. Like many unique effects, a unique check or save is required to resist it - in this case the unique skill is 'Spell Focus'. Some effects allow a higher DC save for creatures without the applicable unique skill or save, while others grant no save against creatures without the associated resistance. Being exposed to such a force often grants the associated Influences to gain related Potentials, though other routes exist to accomplish the same thing. Additionally, various properties, tools and equipment exists to further defend against these countless unnatural threats.

Spoiler: Veilbeasts - Cursed Wounds

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The harm inflicted by a Veilbeast is rarely a physical one. Some creatures harm both the body, and the psyche of those who sustain such an injury, but regardless of the method, all such wounds are cursed. Being wounded by a Veilbeast, no matter the size or severity, is almost certainly a death-sentence for a Gale. The curses which these creatures deliver slowly tear bodies apart, or even rend the spirit in manners which are mysterious and not understood. Cures which are discovered are often withheld and treated with the highest level of value and secrecy, placing the power of life and death in the hands of the few. Each Curse possesses an individual and unique remedy specific to itself. Some are easier to treat than others, where simple guesswork might suffice. While others are immensely complex; relying on recovered manuals, secret words and regents, amongst other various components. Those wounded by such a curse are immediately discarded in younger, less-experienced companies, while veterans groups often keep records of learned secret cures complied in their leader's manual. This knowledge is often leveraged against the wounded and dying to acquire additional time under their enlistment, or other resources. The Surveyor Corps offered remedies freely as a public service, but what cures they possessed was often extremely limited due to their charitable nature.

Common holders of cures for curies included high-ranking Gales, veteran Harriers, Black-Healers, and of course... 'Witches'.
Weiss was known to have been in possession of a large number of cures for such blights, long before she became a Gale. Her reputation served as some manner of example to substantiate the belief, and that expectation had similarly extended to any and all 'witches'. There were more than a few accounts of such individuals being capable of purging the blight from a Veilbeast-wound, but where you would find such a person belonging to a practice which had been driven underground... Well, that was anyone's guess.

Spoiler: Resisting - Dragged Down

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The cursed and blighted black creatures are attempting to drag you down into the waters far below. Should they prevail, it would surely be the end of you.

The creatures are attempting to grapple you. Upon a successful grapple, you must succeed a strength check to maintain your hold on the wall each round. For each successful creature grappling a new strength check must be passed, increasing in difficulty. The DC of this check is 10 and increases by 2 for each creature in a grapple with you. Every round after the first they have maintained their grapple, these creatures can attempt to utilize their 'drag down' ability, forcing an additional reflex save vs falling. Breaking a grapple is a move action rather than a standard action. Each of these creatures provokes an attack of opportunity when they attempt to grapple you. If you are considered armed and are considered to be threatening a space, you may make your attacks before taking your strength checks.

Spoiler: Enviromental Effect: Surviving the Dark Waters

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Tainted lands are horrendous places filled with strange and exotic new ways to die. The environmental threats in these areas are often far more fatal than the few bouts of combat which may be encountered. The mysterious Dark Water from your vision has been made manifest, and it rapidly drains away the life energy which binds you to existence. Each round in contact with the quickly rising water deals nonlethal damage. The damage suffered is doubled each subsequent round, threatening to consume you.

✦ Consumed: If a character falls unconscious in the Dark Water, they immediately begin to drown (no save). Other characters can attempt to jump in and save you, but will be unlikely to escape themselves.
✦ Crippling Waters: If a character takes an amount of nonlethal damage equal to double his constitution score, he becomes fatigued for 1d4 rounds.
✦ Threatened: You may not take 10 on any check.
⯎ Climbing Out: Character's must succeed a DC10 climb check to move 5ft. Additional distance may be traveled, not to exceed your base movement speed, by succeeding consecutive climb checks for every 5ft. The DC of each check after the first increases by 3. Climbing gear, such as pitons, grapples, and rope can greatly assist in moving faster. If using rope to climb, this movement is performed normally. Creatures with a climb speed may climb as normal. Pitons may be planted and affixed to a safety line at a location to prevent falling from height excess heights. This is a standard action. If a creature fails their climb check by 5 or more, they fall.
⯎ Catching Hold: If there are fixtures adjacent to you when falling, you may attempt a reflex save (DC10 + amount climb check failed by), to grab hold of an item nearby. This may also be done when falling past a potential handhold, or another player. Similarly, this DC may be attempted by a PC in-line with the creature's fall to attempt a catch. After catching a falling creature in this way, the PC must succeed a DC13 strength check or begin falling as well.
⯎ Swimming: Creatures must succeed a DC10 swim check to stay on the surface of the water each round, or begin sinking at a rate of 10 feet per round. Creatures below the surface of the water must succeed a swim check in the same manner as climbing; attempting subsequent checks every 5ft.
⯎ Aiding Another: Characters may spend a standard action to use the Aid Another action, granting a +4 bonus to another a single skill check another creature attempts.
⯎ Extra Effort: If a creature takes a second move action, the DCs of his climb and swim checks reset for that movement. A creature who performs this action a number of times equal to double his constitution modifier must succeed a DC15 fortitude save. Each additional time this ability is used thereafter, the DC of his save increases by 1.
⯎ Recovered: Characters are no longer suffering from any negative effects of their imprisonment and regain full movement speed. (You normally will not recover from negative effects accrued in tainted regions, even over time; leading to your inevitable demise. Learn from this experience, as small issues such as status conditions can all but assure a failed dive. A number of resources and contingencies exist to better your chances of coming back out again.)

Spoiler: Divergence - Influencing the World

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Divergence is a strange phenomenon most ironically experienced by a brief state of non-existence. The changes experienced thereafter are often incredibly radical. Main-Quests are almost always lost if players Diverge before completing their current tasks. Divergence can be both beneficial or crippling, but can always be reversed in some fashion. However, Divergence can only be reversed in the order in which they occurred; meaning, if a player were to Diverge three-times, the first Divergence could not be changed until all subsequent Divergence were negated. Diverging multiple times can make changes you have experienced, influenced, or created, near-permanent by extension. Meddling in otherworldly affairs greatly increases the likelihood of Diverging, however other forces can cause this as well, including player-actions.

A number of unique, but virtually unknown protections and contingencies exist to combat and control this phenomenon. Many unique realms and universes beyond can only be accessed via Divergence, and some abilities can create powerful desirable-effects to bolster players. However, wild, uncontrolled instances of this spectacle can quickly lead to a tragic fate. Surviving the mysterious threats of the Night and influencing the fabric of reality for your benefit will require careful attention paid to the current state of the world, and detecting early signs of such negative influences before they can spin out of control.

Spoiler: Status

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Environmental Effect
✦ Darkness: There is now absolute darkness throughout the chamber. Normal sight and low-light vision no longer function, you are blind. Darkvision functions normally.

֍ Erik +450 (3,200xp)
HP 22/37 (2 bleed)
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 3
⭍ [Cursed Wound] 2 Bleed, DC 22 Heal (full-round action)
⭍ [Wounding Curse] Fast Healing & Regeneration Disabled. Cannot Heal Grievous Wounds. Cannot Recover Hit-Points. Harms Others. Cure Unlearned.
AC 23
Extra Effort: 3/10
Spite: 2
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Fear Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Destiny Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Pain Influence Gained
⯎ Life Influence Gained
⯎ Struggle Influence Gained
⯎ Teamwork Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Ghostly Vision +100 (3,300xp)

֍ Kazik +450 (2,400xp)
HP 55/57
Shattering (HP Reduction): 1
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 3
⭍ [Severance: Dismembered, Corruption] The creature has lost its off-hand. The wound has shattered all the flesh blow the elbow, turning the skin to glass. (This lost limb will be restored upon exiting the room. Kazik may climb with one hand by succeeding a DC10 strength check for every 5ft of movement he makes.)
⭍ [Severance: Shattering, Corruption] The character's body is beginning to crumble and rapidly deteriorate into nothing more than a pile of dust. As the corruption wracks the victim, the creature's maximum hit points are reduced by 1d8 points each round until they escape the Sector. Current hit points in excess of its maximum are not retained as temporary hit points, but are instead lost. This is a form of damage, but it is not healed or resisted conventionally. (This Severance-effect, and the effects of 'Crippling Sorrow' are reversed upon escaping the room. Kazik's maximum hit points and wisdom score are returned to normal.)
AC 20
Extra Effort Used: 3/6
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Agility Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ History Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Attunement Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Acquired [Black Dice x1]
⯎ Gut Feeling +100 (2,500xp)
⯎ Ghostly Vision +100 (2,600xp)

֍ Walt +500 (1550xp)
HP 43/43
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 27 (3 + 6 + 18)
⭍ Status: [Fatigued]
AC 19
Extra Effort: 1/4
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Endurance Influence Gained
⯎ Recovery Influence Gained
⯎ Tactics Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Life Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Undeath Influence Gained
⯎ Strength Influence Gained
⯎ Teamwork Influence Gained
⯎ Victory Influence Gained

Spoiler: Influences

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Influences represent current knowledge, pursuits, training, experiences and aspirations which are actively effecting or being utilized by a character. These represent various concepts and begin to outline a character's values and path as they grow. Influences which are not used regularly are lost, but can be gained again once a character begins pursuing an avenue related towards that field or concept. Influences determine a character's growth in many ways, including experience points they earn and which Potentials they can acquire at any given time.

Unlike with limited class levels, Influences are not acquired spontaneously, and are acquired throughout play; creating an active system which enables a character to re-train, gain new powers, or even improve upon old ones actively with their in-character actions. Training with a sword or exercising the use of an existing Potential allows a character to learn new techniques, empower his current abilities, or even grow his tolerance to pain, sustain damage, run faster, sleep less, and more. Influences play a vital role in developing more sophisticated interpersonal skills and ability to deal and establish diplomatic relations with all manner of strange and otherworldly creatures which you may encounter; in addition to learning more about the unnatural forces which no worldly knowledge could shed light upon. All unique skills are only able to be acquired via potentials, which are trained and worked towards acquiring via your pursuits, experiences, and by extension - your Influences.

Spoiler: Point: 323 - Willowbrook Sanitarium, F3A (About Tainted Lands)

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Tainted Lands are incredibly complex and foreign realms which are often guised as places once familiar. Each tainted region is individually unique and carries with it its own risks, rules, threats and worldly hazards. Many things cannot function, work differently, or can lead to reality crushing results that make survival for most creatures delving into their reaches an impossibility. Site Investigators often travel with groups of Harriers or Gales for long extended periods conducting a through survey of each corrupted-site, known as a 'Point'. These reports are used by various venturing companies to conduct expeditions, known as 'Dives', into the tainted lands. Points are always geographically divided into many areas known as 'Sectors' by Site Investigators. Sectors within a Point mark areas where the rules of the other areas which have been surveyed dramatically differ, be that the laws of nature or magic, or even stranger changes they cannot fully understand.

Common Sector 'rules' which Gales are familiar with include such things as; violent reactions to non-grounded magics, reactions to supernatural energies and abilities, reactions to specific materials, reactions to unstabilized magical creatures and creatures capable of withholding or generating energy, and items or persons keyed to a particular influence.

Fortunately there were not very many public users of magics due to the general fear and suspicion associated with the practice, and thus even less individuals with such talents that traveled into the tainted regions. Magic was an inherently suicidal thing to employ in such places without a remarkable understanding of the Point and all features of the rules which governed the Sector currently being occupied. Everything in a spell from the time it took to produce, to the school, effect, number of targets and even the manner in which the spell functioned were all individuals factors which could set off a dimensional-explosion and throw an entire team of unwitting mercenaries through a hole into Abadon; or worse. There was always worse, they just hadn't learned what that was yet; that was the first lesson tainted lands had to teach the fools which dared brave its depths. Wizards and magicians were generally less welcome by companies that ventured to such places, than they were by the general public. Unless the magician in question specialized in using his or her magic in such places, and possessed a record to back it, not even a fool would bring one along. There existed unique items called 'Grounds' which restrained and processed a magician's magic making it generally safe to use, but they were immensely expensive and built for each individual mage. Yet, more vexing was the matter that a single magician would often need multiple Grounds, as no single device was assured to provide every protection for every circumstance. Nor were they permanent fixtures. Like filters, they eventually spoiled and failed. At least the ones commercially available. The device's creator, the genius inventor Denil Demn could produce Grounds which would self-cleanse and restore themselves with time, but acquiring a commission from the man was a nightmare. If not because of the competition attempting to do the same, than because the craftsman was notoriously difficult to reach.

The degree of influence upon supernatural powers varied wildly, but was based on the level of corruption the tainted region possessed. In some of the worst places there were documented cases of Gales detonating in a bloody mess from simply employing internal forces to accelerate their speed and agility. Much like a monastic practitioner of martial arts, many Harriers preferred to learn to hone inner energies to aid themselves in conflict while Diving, but even this was not completely safe. During 'Deep Dives' companies outfitted their members with various equipment to maintain internal stability, but this was not something exclusive to the most foul of places. If the rules of a Sector were particularly twisted, it was possible to experience those same hazards without venturing into the belly of the beast.

Some materials or creatures didn't react well in tainted regions. The places were often so alien and foreign that not even animals could enter. Sometimes it wasn't just animals, it could be steel, or wood. Maybe iron. No one would know what all, if any may have been effected until a Site Investigator ran their exhaustive tests. Some of the most strange of places caused unnatural phenomena from things associated with a particular thing. Perhaps a cleric's symbol, or a deity's favored weapon, maybe the pages of a book. It was as if the world were possessed by some malicious spirit that remembered only the things related to what had wronged it. None of these places were necessarily good to ever venture, many Gales never bothered. Even putting the twisted spaces of reality aside, the Veilbeasts and other horrors were enough to convince any sane man to keep his distance. Veilplague had become nearly non-existent, but the corruption and curses which could be afflicted were a horrendous burden. If a man were blighted, he could not be allowed into a town or city. It was all one could do to simply pray that a green witch or other healing pariah might be able to mend them, as civil men would have no choice but to quarantine or kill the infected. There simply were no known cures for most maladies, at least not in the hands of the peoples at large. For most, death was assured.


Point: 323, F3A: Sector 1A - Regional Effects
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????

---

Main Quest: Dreaming, The Nightmare Beast
Something lingered and twisted their perceptions, their very reality. There was no past and present, only a fractured array of constantly shifting states of existence. All was real. All was now. It darkened the world, as if laid in shade beneath the looming hand of some omniscient mad god. Somewhere, someone elsewhere inside knew. That man could discern reality and see the dream for what it was. They had to escape before it consumed them, before all that was named true in their minds was pried from their broken hands, and devoured by some horrific nightmare. The visions... Everything. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be real.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: 1/8 Rounds
Primary Objective: Survive.

---

[flat_footed]

Miryks frowned at the light in front of her. Names and faces that seemed familiar refused to become meaningful in his mind. Cursing, the girl focused on the scene around her and the unnatural green light. It was an odd sight, something so obvious against the snow. No tracks in the new snow betrayed who may have left it there, almost as if it had appeared in this desolate landscape as suddenly as they had. Whether this place was an extension in some form of the Sanitarium, or a completely different plane, didn't matter. It wasn't likely that Miryks would be here on her own, and he didn't intend to let any possible tools or weapons slip through her fingers.

Miryks hands reached to claim the source of the green light, but something nagged in the back of her mind and stilled her hands. He swore again, seeking to force his hands forward by strength of will alone. Beads of sweat quickly formed on her brow and froze, but for all of his focus, her hands seemed bound by some inexorable force. Move, damnit! Her efforts redoubled, but it was almost like he was trapped in Willowbrook again, his range of motion restricted as though shackles remained around her wrists. I am not some puppet to dance on a string! If someone tries to make me dance, they'll see just how deadly my strokes can be. With a slight gasp, her fingers brushed past the fine layer of snow and sought out the source of the green light. The blue thread seemed to thrum in response to her motions, and he noted with some satisfaction that there seemed to be more take than originally thought. The thread was a lifeline and a resource both. Miryks could only hope the other end was fastened to a place as calm as this one.

Miryks allowed his thoughts to assume the source of the green light was brought here by the same force that had dragged him. Like the strange arrows and quiver, resources discarded throughout the Sanitarium could be quite powerful. If such an item had followed him here, she would make use of it before anything else had a chance to turn it against him. The green light was almost like a spectral beacon, drawing her towards the item. Whatever it was, it seemed like it wanted to be found, and Miryks would oblige this desire.

Spoiler: OOC

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5' Step to B9
Move Action to pick up the source of the green light
Perception - (1d20+17)[37] Looking in the snow at the item casting the green light
Appraise - (1d20+8)[22] Inspecting the item

Spoiler: Action Economy: Round 2

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Standard Action
Move Action
Move Action
Swift Action
Immediate Action
Miscellaneous Action

[Toptomcat]

Walt Kincaid
The Hanging Men

A godlike, mad, infinite, dangerous record of all that is or was or may be, a sea of voices. Now what does that sound like? This place, unless I'm very much mistaken. Snippets of speech without explanation or context, recordings, hallucinations and impressions- we've been bombarded with all that since the moment we awoke here.

Walt reaches out to brace his back against a narrow corner, clambering awkwardly but swiftly upwards as the spikes on his boots bite obligingly into the soft wood of the wall. He makes good time, until-

"Black-haired girl in armor, eight feet to my left!

-doesn't look hostile-"

!

A sudden blast of furnace-hot air tousles his hair- and in an intuitive flash of recognition, the hunter picks up on the similarity of the girl's climb to his own just in time to mimic her and convulsively hurl himself upward, away from the gout of flame that threatens to engulf him.

Then, an instant too late, he thinks to warn the others, and a belated cry of warning dies on his lips.

Stupid, selfish...

Spoiler: OOC

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Spending 1 pp and a swift action to activate my 7th-level Scorned ability, Combat Surge, gaining a +4 enhancement bonus to Strength and +2 to Constitution for one round. Check for psychic enervation: (1d20)[19] (1-3 fails)

Acrobatics check vs. DC 16: (1d20+11)[22]

Mutate remains active, and will for the foreseeable future.

Standard action: trade for a move. Move action: climb. Move action: Extra Effort climb.

My Climb modifier is +10. Making four Climb checks on the first move action and three on the second, moving 0-35 ft up.
Move 1:
Climb 1: (1d20+10)[28] vs. DC 10
Climb 2: (1d20+10)[12] vs. DC 13
Climb 3: (1d20+10)[20] vs. DC 16
Climb 4: (1d20+10)[24] vs. DC 19

Move 2:
Climb 1: (1d20+10)[30] vs. DC 10
Climb 2: (1d20+10)[23] vs. DC 13
Climb 3: (1d20+10)[30] vs. DC 16

EDIT: Six successes, one failure by less than 5. 30'.

Nonlethal damage taken: 27
Fatigued
6/11 PP

[Chromascope3D]

Kazik
The Hanging Men

One hand above the other, one hand above the other, one hand above the other, and then the other hand again. Except he only had one usable hand. He would hoist himself up, look for a handhold, and reach for it before he could fall. Each foot upward was a new rush of adrenaline, but upwards he went. Why, it was almost zen like, one above the other, one above the other...

Kazik looked down, and saw only black. He was no longer in the tunnel, he was surrounded only by night, and the stones before him. He clambered up, ah, it was so easy now! Each handhold was eager to reveal itself to him, each foothold held firm. Upwards and upwards he climbed, unsure that he was touching anything at all in his haste, avoiding all manner of attacks from above as corpses and flame rained down upon him. Nothing was going to keep him away. He looked up to see a window, a way into the tower. It was time. He clambered in, and found himself in a room, sideways, and heard the noise of other men behind him. Reality again, he realized as his arm began to throb. He shook himself off, and looked about. Perhaps there was some meaning to this place...

Spoiler: OOC

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Copied (1d20+19)[27] #acrobatics

Climb DC 10: (1d20+14)[33] / STR DC 10 (1d20+4)[23] | (1d20+4)[22]
Climb DC 13: (1d20+14)[28] / STR DC 10 (1d20+4)[7] | (1d20+4)[18]
Climb DC 16: (1d20+14)[19] / STR DC 10 (1d20+4)[10] | (1d20+4)[16]
Climb DC 19: (1d20+14)[33] / STR DC 10 (1d20+4)[16] | (1d20+4)[18]
Climb DC 22: (1d20+14)[34] / STR DC 10 (1d20+4)[24] | (1d20+4)[23]

And a perception check to search the room
(1d20+10)[18]

[Stevesciguy]

"Oh, aye, gone now, our little revenant is. But gone for good is another matter. She appeared before me with Master Crofte's gift, and so I think that our days of haunting may not be through yet."

Erik lets out a grunt of displeasure.

"At least it's gone for now. Let us know if it comes back, only you might be able to see it next time."

"I think that I remember you, now. You were at the Club too, aye? I almost didn't recognize you; there's something gone from your voice now, or... perhaps something has taken its place. Am I wrong, friend?"

"I was in the club, yes. As for my voice... Nine Hells if I know. Something about me changed when I almost fell into that void. It's like my body died, but not me. Whatever kind of magic it was, at least it wasn't corrupted by the taint. I might not be here now, otherwise."

"A- haah- a 'revenant'? I never saw a damned thing- even when you two seemed to be talking to something."

"I won't pretend to know what it was. Took the shape of a little girl, but had eyes like the void. Couldn't see it until that red bolt hit me. Used some kind of magic on me - closest I've been to feeling fear since the beginning of the Long Night."

Erik had been climbing all the while speaking, albeit slowly. In some ways he felt stronger than ever before, but at the same time, he could feel his wounds catching up to him. They needed to get out, and fast.

Then the blast down the hallway. Erik barely had time to move out of the way, the heat burning his skin ever so slightly.

And... his blood?

A burning filled his veins like he had never before experienced. It was a unique kind of burning, though. It wasn't like the burning of flame or acid he had known from the monstrous creatures of the night - it felt like the burning of power.

The burning subsided, and around Erik sprung a transparent blue film. His eyes widened as he recognized what had happened.

"NO!"

Spoiler: OoC

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Erik's in deep doodoo now hope I didn't just kill myself

Actions:
Swift: One use of Fervor to 'cast' Shield
Move: Climb
Standard: Extra Effort

Uses of Fervor left: 6/7

Rounds of Undead form: 3/19

Rolls were rolled in the ooc, copying them here:

DC 16 Acrobatics: (1d20+8)[18]

DC 10: (1d20+8)[21]
DC 13: (1d20+8)[21]
DC 16: (1d20+8)[20]
Reflex Save, just in case: (1d20+9)[28]

DC 10: (1d20+8)[21]
DC 13: (1d20+8)[10](Fail, no fall)
DC 16: (1d20+8)[17]
Reflex: (1d20+9)[10]

[Mornings]

There was a silence which choked the air of the woodland path. An eerie quiet. The world mutely quaked, suddenly and without warning, then stilled just as quickly. No flakes of ice fell from the leaves of the branches overhead. No physical disruption showed in the world she occupied, it was as if the shaking that had so sharply jarred her senses had been herself, or at least her perception of reality; it was the only way she could describe the sensation. Regina stood ready adjacent the light which gleamed beneath the snow. Her eyes carefully scanned her surroundings. No movement. Nothing. Stillness, both in the trees, and upon the path, coming and going. "Sister, is that you?" The air seemed to hum and spark, coming alive. Her eyes quickly darted about. Nothing. Above her. Nothing. Kicking at the snow. Nothing. No footprints, no invisible-man creeping up upon her, but still, she had heard a woman's voice from somewhere. Echoing in her ears, so close. A buzzing static begun to rise and snap in her eardrums, a sensation like the passing of a too-close bolt of lightning.

It was instinctual reflex that set her to spin about in place, her arm snapping up just in time to intercept the bolt of emerald light that cascaded into her. Her flesh cracked like fractured glass, fissures racing down her skin and rapid closing as the energy surged through her body and sent her back skidding into the snow. As the strange light lept out from the snow and struck her down, half buried in flurries and ice, she could feel it. The sensation manifest like some Ethereal division had been cut into her world, and a film were playing out across the surface of the material plane. Her consciousness rocked and reeled, darkness closing in around her as the ghastly child in white begun to approach. Her robes were long, whispy and unreal while her skin was dark and foreign. As much as she struggled to raise her eyes, she couldn't see her face, only the lower half of her jaw. She smiled. It was as if the girl were looking at something else, someone else; a memory not here. Her voice echoed, crushing all sense of reality and existence, without source, without sound or substance. Black.

---

Main Quest: Waking, The Song of Thunder and Night
Somewhere in the strange and indescribable vastness of the frozen spaces buried and lost between the twisted world, an ancient tale is recalled by some nameless archon. The reclaimed memories violently unearth something distant and forgotten. The pieces of a truth much too large to understand. Within the archon's whispers, within the fragments of emerald light, both clues and an unearthly might are reclaimed - but the truth of what those secrets might reveal threatens to destroy everything you believed.
Difficulty: Unknown| Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: Unknown
Primary Objective: Collect Stories of Song (1/3 Memories)

---

"It was here their story truly begun, that sacred courtyard which spanned out from below those white steps."

"They sat upon the stone steps that led up into the temple-proper. Mayli's small hands worked quickly as she secured the silken armor over Mako's small frame. She paused, finishing the final knot.

She rose from her kneeling posture to examine her work. The soft clink of the wolves paws disrupted the odd, unnatural quiet of the courtyard. The four large beasts strutted down the last fifteen feet of stone steps and waited upon the marble walkway that surrounded the Garden of Twilight. The Order of Dusk, trained, killed, executed and recruited upon these seemingly sterile, quiet grounds. The large rectangular setting, was a stone garden of small white pebbles. Strange circular patterns were assembled from the stones, seemingly raked into their formation, yet left no footprints nor sign of the artist who arranged them in such a way remained. To step upon the sacred ground was a telltale sign of acknowledging battle within the Order. Simply placing a foot upon the pebbles was the mark that combat had begun. It was an act which was never performed lightly."

"Mayli walked down the steps and took a right turn, walking along the ten feet of marble parameter that surrounded the stone-garden. Her wagon, 'The Dawnhammer' was carefully parked next to the Temple entrance. As she walked inside, she spoke over her shoulder to the woman she had just knelt beside in her thick Chellish accent. Her dialect was thick and ancient; "Dearest, Dear. That thine hath nat worth preve in entertaining this dorste. That ich would name it folly. A dorste of childhede long to be due to be named forgot. That ich ever shalt stand als thine venial guardian. Ever. Always. " Though she grinned as she chided the young girl behind her, there was a weight in her words at the stakes which hung overhead. Though they were both of the same tender age, there was a grim focus which seemed to resound behind the young minstrel's eyes."

"She rummaged through her things, fitting her massive longsword to her back, as she walked inside her wagon. Swiftly strolling inside she lifted the massive hammer from it's resting place above the bar, collapsing it down to fit upon the back of her waist with a sturdy adamantine hook. It looked like an anvil with a handle, the signature mantle-piece of her rolling traveling-tavern. Though not yet a woman by age, she took a swig of something from a flask, and threw it back into the wagon as she stepped off... teapanche most likely. The sweet of the exotic brew had recently become something of a personal favorite of her many wares. With near-mechanical motions, more habit than thought, grabbed her shield and threw it across her back over her sword. Stuffing a small number of items into the stack hanging upon the side of her back, she poked her head back into the door of her wagon, opening a dusty chest that creaked painfully. From it she removed a black, bloodstained, ebon-gauntlet. Steel bands ran around the massive clawed fist. A titanic, blood-rusted ring was lifted from the box with her free-hand. Sliding back outside, a dreary look begun to drip across her face as she hoisted the massive chackram blade up to inspect its condition. Two- sections of it on either side we rusted and dull as if they were some manner of improvised handle. Still, despite the weapon's shoddy condition, the mass of the four foot circumference blade was not something to be to be trifled with. She threw down the ring into the ground with an effortless inhuman strength. With a flick of the wrist it cleaved into the stone with a resounding sharp 'CHINK', where it remained upright."

"Retrieving the massive black-steel fist she had dug up from the old chest she begun fitting it over her hand. It was an old weapon. Once, long ago, before it had been bastardized and so heavily modified, it had been one of the many signature armaments found carried by the more-famous killers and spies of Parego Dospera. Or as they were sometimes referred to in Westcrown, Dusk Agents. With it's current modifications, the ring would normally be fitted over the back of the fore-arm and fist, creating a brutal weapon designed to eviscerate the target; But such things were not needed for this duel. This fight was about teaching little Mako a lesson. To make her understand. She had to know, that she didn't need to fight. That it was her job to protect her, like always, and she'd make that point... here. Now. Whatever the cost. She snapped a rusty metal lock in place... never breaking her gaze with the girl. Then another... a slight pause. Then another. She smiled. CRINK. The final steel lock fell in place. It was easy enough to get the damned thing off, but putting it on, well, that was a chore."

"Her gaze darkened and begun to empty. Like the water of empathy and life was slowly being bled away from her thoughts, her face was replaced with a look the girl was familiar with; a calm emotionless terrifying sense of brewing. A roar of silent thunder. Mayli stepped from side to side, slowly approaching the garden. Her voice hummed out notes, singing in words neither could understand; some terrible profane language. Like a hiss, like a curse. The light around her face began to visibly darken; "Orb'd'jal jin'dr'nen. Ter'rl d'Ter'rl. Ist'd'Istos. Piwa'uns'aa.... s'slig'ne uns'aa... Qua'lan uss'chev" She stopped her gait at the side of one of her hounds. Vigil. Ever loyal, whose ears rose during his master's dark chant. She ran a hand through his mane. Her face was dark and terrible, shades of errire shadow and mist cloaked her visage and form like some unearthly aura. "Come now lovely, Do what thy will. Make ready thine arms.... And step to the garden when thy find thyself fitting and braced.""

"The foreign woman silently stood. She was glad for the help, knowing that her friend could've decided to abuse their relationship to force her to fight unarmored or worse. Makoto quickly stretched her arms and legs to make sure that nothing felt stiff while Mayli made herself ready. The thoughts wouldn't relent, and pried at her still; I have to win here. I am not some weakling who needs to be protected. I needed help then, but I'm stronger now, and I can help keep her safe as much as she can help me. Slowly she drew her sword, the Aria of Castigation. The tiefling girl examined the blade, making sure that it was free of stains. It was a pointless gesture given that she cleaned the blade as often as she could, but a habit she performed regardless. Tossing the rest of her gear into the wagon with her tail, save for the component pouch tied to her waistband, she hesitated only for a moment before tracing arcane markings through the air with a finger, completing a simple spell, creating a shimmering barrier before her. Turning to Mayli she spoke, "We do not have to do this, you know. I do not want to hurt you, all you have to do is let me fight alongside you." Still, Makoto had traveled with Mayli for years now. She knew what her dearest friend's answer would be and stepped up into the arena before hearing her answer. She raised her weapon, taking on a combat stance. She couldn't help but fumble through her own mental narration, a terrible habit she'd developed after spending so much time in her own mind. I'll just have to beat her without harming her. I wonder if she knows how well I know her weak points?"

"Mayli watched on as her friend stepped into the arena before her, not responding immediately to the proposition. She smiled softly after Makoto's foot found it's way upon the stones, instead answering with a playful retort. "Dear girl, Ich moved to speakith and yield, in accord with thine terms. Yet in such haste, thine foot has tread upon blisful soil, and thus must be parafit in everideel." The minstrel chuckled, her words in obvious jest. While she claimed behind her thick accent that she would have withdrawn from the duel had Mako not stepped into the arena, they both knew Mayli would never consent to allowing the girl go into battle of her own violation. She raised a free-hand and touched her own forhead with a ritualistic movement. Once again she sung in a sing-song voice. They were dark and foreboding words which danced and hissed with a dark energy that seemed to dim the light in the very air. It carried with it a mist that encircled her, and flickered outwards, turning into a golden shimmer with the completion of the abyssal song."

"Reaching around her shoulder, donned her heavy steel shield. Yet, rather then stepping into the garden to wade into battle, she began to sing. She began to spin in circle-step around herself, lifting both hands into the air, as if the dreadful-massive bloodstained hunk of steel grasped the hand of another. She spun and spun, viciously. Stopping abruptly. Violently again, but in the other direction. A wind began to pick up and kick her hair about as if some arcane force was beginning to manifest. Never stepping within the ring, she set herself into a series of spins and leaps with short vicious cyclonic twirls. Then she sang as she came to an abrupt stop, leaving her hands out to her side, palms faced away from Mako. A wide and powerful stance that felt fearsome. The gale continued it's whirl about her though her movements had ceased, as if some spirit lept and pranced about her, now caught in frenzy. An elemental of breeze. Raising her head high to the clear blue sky, her voice rose in song. Makoto recognized the words, she had heard it before. It's hum invoking memories of time's she was oath-bound to never retell.... The night her own finance was to be was executed. "Fade on unto stars as god machines. With our arms we will shape the world.""

"Makoto simply waited, letting her friend start her dance as the words suddenly brought a flare of old memories back. She begins to speak, "Oh, this is..." but the words die in her mouth, and she cannot finish. Though the curse silenced her tongue, compelling her to never speak of what had passed, it weighed heavy still. Pacing inside the garden, she decided upon a new strategy. Empowering her blade with arcane energy, her mind rapidly traced through numerous combat strategies until finally deciding on a singular course of action as she watched her friend's whirling footwork. "Come now, it is time we started, is it not, dearest," she says with a playful tone, emulating Mayli's earlier words, "Unless you would like to concede?""

"Rather than responding to the girl's verbal prodding, Mayli continued on in her song as a grim crackle and jolt of energy raced up threw her body. Her white hair ran shifting into a pitch ebon-black and her eyes beamed with arcane energy, glowing brightly like that of some nameless outsider. The small crimson sparks of electricity danced in the wind as she continued her verse, taking a step forward. Then another. Suddenly springing forward into a frenzied charge.

With a violent burst of unearthly speed she tore off from the sacred marble road that encircled the arena, mentally reiterating the same words she kept repeating to herself. She would win. She had to. No matter what. The wind raced through her pitch hair as she made her hurtling approach, plumetting into the stone garden. Yet, just as she was beginning to close-in upon her friend, the arcane-swordswomen snapped out a hand releasing a wave of soft light. It enchanted the ground with an unpleasantly slick and treacherous surface that glinted and reflected the sun's rays off from the collection of pebbles doused in the cunning spell. Clumsily she skipped and spun in her dance, barely regaining her footing before resuming her offensive rush. Transitioning with a less graceful, more barbaric, hulking blitz, she shifted her weight from left to right with each step, like a massive charging wrestler treading through muddy fields. The whirling minstrel lifted her shield up defensively as she raised her massive gauntlet to strike Makoto with the dense metal fist. Coming down upon the girl she loudly sounded out her second verse at the end of her spirited charge, "In parts I lie staring at the clouds, listening to the vultures sing! The husk beneath this shroud, brings alms to fallow wings!""

"Makoto, disappointed, if not impressed that May'li had managed to stay on her feet after running straight into the spell-trap refused to be caught off guard. Knowing full-well that a single blow anywhere from the girl would likely be enough to disable her and cost her the fight, she nimbly dashed to the side. With a measured movement, ducking the blow, she slid out from beneath the singing-terror's assault finding a better position to distance herself from the girl's frightful strength. As she slipped out of her reach, Makoto's arm pumped once sharply, snapping out her blade like a curving whip into May'li's flank which she left so dangerously exposed during her mad charge. "You leave yourself open too much, be more cautious." She teasingly chided the woman trying to teach her a lesson as her blade found it's mark."

"The blade cut deeply, a surprise to them both, as if they'd come to some realization that the weapons they leveled upon each other were not toys - but the same tools which they had once defended one another. The pain blossomed like fire in her mind, Mayli could no longer hear her friend's voice. The world was mute and muffled, like screams sounding from above the water to some drowning man. The thick black inkor bloomed from her wound, her blood hissing as it touched the ground leaving small frozen patches on upon the stones. A violent, visceral tremor ran through her body like a jerking twisted spasm. Her skin became pale and deathly, eyes glazed over and blackening until they appeared as pools of pitch. Wells, of deep black water that threatened to drown out and consume everything beneath some crushing tide. The freezing black liquid ran down her face like tears, leaving lines of frost traced across her cheeks. A guttural, inhuman howl ripped its way out from her lips to accompany her blood-curdling scream. It was like that of some infernal creature, writhing in pain and fury. Her hands snapped up to grasp her face, covering her horrid form from sight. With a violently explosive step, she carried off into the air streaking out across the arena in some monstrous display. Sprinting off, Mako was showered with pebbles from the ground uplifted by the supernatural speed and strength by with which Mayli had been carried."

"She covered the distance blindingly quick. So much so, that the tremulous nature of her abrupt halt caused wind and stones to blow past her. The maddened child stood some hundred-and-forty feet away, thrashing and trembling wildly. Shaking her hands, throwing the black inkor all about her, freezing patches populating the ground like a crazed hound who had fallen into a pool. Her hand snapped unto her arm ripping off the weapon and throwing down her gauntlet then shield to the ground with a thunderous quake and cloud of dust, audible from even the Tiefling's distance. After a moment she lifted her blackened hands wide, some spark of sense returning, and continued her song, beginning a haunting slow spin. A ghastly sight, like some pale, blooded apparition. "Vines spring from my blood. Wheat grows of my flesh and bone. The birds descend from above to lift my body from the stone.""

"Makoto staggered back a step, caught off guard by the sudden inhuman howl escaping her friend, along with eyes even blacker than her own, Makoto can't do anything to prevent Mayli's escape. Maybe I went too far... Thinking back as her friend explained the rules of the duel before they'd started, she shakes her head, once again caught within the struggle of her own inward thoughts. No, she told me to fight like I was trying to kill her. I'll hold back when she starts getting weaker, but she's stronger than that, she can take it...I'll just have to be careful now."

"The realization that she couldn't possibly catch up to the magically-enhanced Mayli came quickly. If there was one thing which was certainly not in her favor, it was the difference in speed and mobility between them. While Mayli was physically strong to an inhuman degree, but that wall could be overcome with finesse and cunning; two things which she possessed in abundance. Rather than risking being run down and torn apart, she instead kept a weary eye on her friend while taking a few determined slow paces around the grease puddle she had conjured earlier, putting it between herself and the frenzied bleeding girl. She didn't have magic to spare on more intricate defenses that may not provide results, this would have to do. Once again she took up a readied stance as she raised up her blade. "You know that will not work on me! You humans might be vulnerable to a little chill, but I am stronger than that!""

"Her strategy was sound. Perhaps even foolproof, but it would not stop her, not now. Mayli began slowly advancing... singing still. "A fair trade, my clay for a soul so a pigeon thrives while I have passed. The mountain justly claims its toll to break the raptor's fast." Then moving with quickened steps. "Their shrieks soothe as siren calls, their talons dancer's hands. Why angels don demon shawls is not for us to understand." Her gait became faster. Then faster still. "I glide in feathers embrace, their beaks beckoning the frost. To fly past the fog. To rise into grace, and join the loved ones we had lost." Stepping off with an explosive kick into the ground the young girl was brought streaming out towards her target. She leaned, slightly off-setting her rush as she drew the adamantine anvil-like weapon from behind her waist. With a herculean gesture she spun the massive thing once above her head sharply. The weapon's shaft viciously exploded to life, extending outward and showing her with flickering sparks as she grasped the titanic weapon in both hands. As the weapon ratcheted out into its fully expanded form, she sprinted out, racing forward like a wild beast caught in song. "The falcons roost upon the wind and I meditate until the morn. Absorbing times I've loved and sinned, at light I wake, a being reborn!""

"A thunderous clap resounded as Mayli kicked off from the ground. The blow rocketed her through the air with a force which blasted the stones underfoot into a fine dust. The centrifugal spinning motion as she sang madly sent her off into a whirling cyclonic-hammering-assault that rang throughout the courtyard. She felt the fine blade of her friend. Then the cold bite of steel as the motion registered as Makoto snapped out a perfectly timed slash in between her rotation to once-again find her flank. Drunk in the heat of the battle, the massive blunt head came around anyways. It was a collision of thunderous force as the leaping assault suddenly came undone and the cyclonic attack sent Mayli a clear twenty feet through the air. The howling attack had easily carried her over the ten foot space where Mako's arcane trap had been set, which was the best she could have hoped for, but her strike and her feelings still failed to reach out across that narrow expanse between them. She hit the ground thunderously with a crash into a roll, then skidding upon her face until her body came to a halt, leaving a black bloody streak across the stones like an insect across a windshield. Mangled and broken, her feet were spread outwide, like some sad feral beast. After a moment of stillness she ran a hand across the black bleeding wound, painting the blood across her lips. Her hair was long and black, cloths frozen stiff with the rime of her blood and drained of color. Her skin bleached parchment white, the shade of undeath."

"She did not move from her place, though she held the hammer out in one twisted arm as if the other had gone limp. She did not look over her shoulder, but spoke in a voice of command from her place on the ground. "Be stille and listen! That ich witen thy be not symple and coy. That Ich witen thy seche this bataille in wolde. A wolde... That'ith may nat avaunce." She looked back over her shoulder, and smiled a pale faced smile. "Oh, dear. Oh dearest. My love. That shalt I never release you. Never see you brought to such grisly fate as he.... I would curse you, and curse you twice again, that I love you so." Her arms struggled, lifting her partially from the stones before once again falling with a heavy thud that contradicted her size. She fell to the stones, with a heavy thud that contradicted her size. "Thusly, once. Before the sun. Once, before the noon sky. And once too, before the stars. May a weapon gras thine hand in battle." She chuckled softly, as the dust and derbies smoked and puffed from her heavy breath. "I bless you.... fight as you will. I curse you. Find that worth your strength. That only by mine own word, shall this word be made undone....""

"It had all fell into place like a vision or a dream, though her sword-hand still trembled from the force she had set aside with her parry. Everything played out exactly as she had planned. Seeing Mayli fall to the ground, Makoto moved to help her friend and bind her wounds as she listened. Even as the cursed command took hold and the implications of it prod at her mind, she couldn't help but push those feelings aside. Well, even if she's a sore loser, at least she stopped before she got too badly hurt, and at least now I can fight some without needing her permission. Shaking her head she pulled May'li into a tight and worried embrace, "I do not care, just please, do not make me hurt you like this again! From now on, please, just trust me...""

"Trust. The word stung the bloody girl more than she could say. Mayli understood why Mako had taken up her blade. It was more than emulating what she herself had done for her, in saving her from the damnation of past affairs. That influence remained, but she genuinely desired to help others through the might of her swordarm. Naive and selfish and pure. Makoto could only see the foes who declared themselves to her, but she could not see those who connived behind guise and shadow. There was so much which a sword could not defeat; the daggers in men's eyes were just as real as the horrors which lay beyond this world. No matter the efforts she made to provide the girl with a life free of such woes, Mako tirelessly strove to drag herself back into that black breach. The last explosive clash still rung in her ears mutely long after its passing, and it never stopped. It reminded her of that moment of realization, that perhaps only in great loss, perhaps only in confronting great darkness and suffering could the girl be dissuaded from her darksome path. To see the face of lightless day. It was the resounding of a one-note symphony that haunted her ever still, she feared it her greatest work, her greatest mistake. A Song of Thunder and Night."

Spoiler: Status

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֍ Regina +800 (12,400xp)
HP 53/53
AC 19
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Discovery Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Tapestry Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Dimensions Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Vision Influence Gained
⯎ Light Influence Gained
⯎ Stability Influence Gained
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Red Influence Gained
⯎ Reflections Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Stars Influence Gained
⯎ Memory Influence Gained
⯎ The Song of Thunder and Night +2,000 (14,400xp)

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Main Quest: The Fires of Willowbrook, Part 1
Long ago the Auspex had spoken of the four years which had come and gone from behind the bars of their cages. It was impossible to know just how long it had been since then, but if there was any lesson to be had in all of it, it was that 'time was meaningless'. Strength had begun to return to them. The future was their own to command if they could just wrest it free from the dead-hands of the hell named 'Willowbrook'. That was what they had to keep telling themselves. They said it over and over again until it became truth, the only truth that mattered. It had to be that way, because if they allowed themselves to slip, they would be faced with the terror of another reality too horrible to defeat. Then the 'nothing' which loomed above them like the executioner's axe, would fall. Then they too would join it; and this time, there would be no return.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: Unknown
Primary Objective (1): Flee Sector 1B
Primary Objective (2): Escape Willowbrook Sanitarium

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Side Quest: Restless, The Nightmare Below
Lord Matik recounts his battle with a horrid and powerful creature, a horror known as the Ember Beast. Whatever the secrets of its power, it has transformed the knight into something inhuman and unnatural. Something sleeps far below the asylum, a terror steeped in blood and fire. Perhaps the secrets to the infernal warrior's own cursed disposition lay somewhere buried in the deep, or perhaps there was only death. Only one thing was certain; the creature was too dangerous to be allowed to live. It had to be stopped.
Difficulty: Challenging | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: Unknown
Primary Objective: Defeat the Ember Beast

---

[Triskavanski]

Sheet

He was getting tired. Ever since he woke up, its been climb this, run away from that.. and now he was soaked from head to toe in gore. He could feel the weight of the dead upon him as if their very souls cursing him from the after life, adepting to drag him down with them. He needed a shower, and terribly so, he struggles to keep down whatever threatened to work its way up his throat, expelling from his mouth. Taking his time to avoid vomiting while trying to talk, he eventually corked out the words "I'm.. Faux Paw" he says in order. It was all that he could do at this point to keep the gore drenched clothing on instead of ripping everything off and run screaming into the first pool of apparently clean water.

Spoiler

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Vomit Comet (1d20+12)[19] fort save
Still Phil (1d20+10)[18] Will save

Finding the strength to stand once more, and holding down his urge to puke. "I'm very grateful.. and yes.. let us please hurry to some place far from here where I can try to , not to be rude, wash out everything I've just been through.. in and covered with."

[Mornings]

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The Unsung King - Alicia Kelgore

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421st Day of the 1st Cycle - Time: 9th Bell / LC: 30,303
Jun'athel; ???????? - ????????
????????; ???????

"Expected of you? Ah, yes. In your home, the House of Lords does entreat the accused to representation before the court. This is not so when standing before the Justices’ of the Second World or the House of Black. It is the responsibility of each Enforcer to recount the circumstances of the offense as accurately as possible for the interpretation of the House Justice. Typically the accused is not even allowed to stand before the Justice until after the Enforces have convinced, and a sentence passed. However, there is no 'standard' to these matters and events proceed at the discretion of the Justice, so if I was to recommend any action, it would be to present yourself as apologetic even if you are not allowed to speak... and to not irritate the Justice with any unnecessary details or pleading. Keeping your head bowed and waiting til spoken to might be the wiser thing to do, though if you're still curious regarding that matter, your question would be better directed towards her."

It was a feeling she hadn't felt in what had been perhaps a lifetime, or a day, an abstract and indescribable awareness of an absence of something which could not be named. Black. The vastness of a grim and polished hall. Sleek black. Glassy marble. The air was choked with a dense humid mist. The sting running through Alicia’s arms was followed by the sharp snap of static. A violet spark. It was an energy, or some force native to this place which she had never felt before. Softly humming it seemed to fill the air with a dull eerie static; white noise filling in the spaces which were once silent.

Caus'fel's words were directed ahead at a grandiose figure in an ostentatious black dress flanked by a pair of semi-corporeal shadowy ravens baring the tails of her outrageously decadent attire. A woman with long silver hair seemed to scoff at both the Enforcer and his ward as they appeared. "I see your preference for simplicity hasn't changed since we last met, Caus." Her deep crimson eyes seemed to glint with an otherworldly fire to pierce the gloom. "Oh, well this is a first. Quortek V'dre actually sent a witness for once. Did you annoy someone again, Halja? You haven't been the most popular of late." The witness, Halja, shook her head dismissively not so easily falling for the Enforcer's provocations. "Indeed, Mother had a mind to insure your ridiculous ''Magister' stopped causing trouble. You should be grateful I came, she wanted to send Talri instead." Caus'fel's face shriveled in evident displeasure at the thought of having to deal with whoever that was.

The entourage further in the distance begun making its way towards them from a large pathway which hung directly above some placid black well of pitch ichor. It was like a bridge across a lake, which led to a large circular dais at its center. Caus'fel lowered his voice as they begun their approach. You're right... I appreciate it. I should take you somewhere out of the Garden sometime, as thanks." The woman scoffed with a sarcastic chuckle, hissing back lowly "You know perfectly well I'm married." Caus didn't stop his steady advance while prodding Alicia along the pathway, coming to the edge of the center platform. The Enforcer tossed out a comment over his shoulder and under his breath before falling back into his routine. "To your idiot brother... Hail! Bhafa'fel, Justice of Black. The accused seeks your wisdom and mercy." Halja barely managed to contain herself and regather her composure before the Enforcer formerly initiated the trial.

The Justice adjusted her massive hat, sweeping the long black veil which hung from its brim aside. Raising a hand she spoke. "I have received your words Caus'fel, and have come to my decision after deliberation with the Pale Bride. However, before I deliver the sentence, I would hear from the accused." The woman, Bhafa'fel, was evidently related to Caus'fel and the stranger, Halja. Her hair was likewise silver, and her eyes were a dull reddish-brown, a trait the Enforcer seemed to not share with either of the women. Yet, while they appeared youthful and filled with vigor, the Justice was the oldest L'Dalharen Stella had seen, perhaps in her mid forties. For a race of beings close to existing as some timeless archon to show signs of aging, she must have been a truly ancient existence. A thought that seemed to be reinforced by the Justice's words. The Pale Bride was a figure in Vet'C'nros folklore, the daughter of the Pale Lady, two entities who provided council to Hensa's children, guiding the House and aligning the Mother of the Black Veil's will along with the Fates of the Three Worlds in tandem. In modern faith, most assumed it was more of a symbolic reference rather than an entity which could translate every destined fate within the Weave.

"Stella Astral. You have disrupted all good order and balance of the World Veil. Unlawfully trespassed into L'Lotha. Damaged the divine works and pursuits of your own House, and undone balances delivered by L'Dalharen; to name a few of your charges. You claim a Teller provided you guidance, that all of these crimes was in furtherance of an objective to somehow acquire a Servitor. If this remains the case, what exactly were you hoping to achieve from all of this and what information did the Teller provide to lead you to perform such actions?" [Alicia | Knowledge (Abstract) - Partial]

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Potential Acquired: Mana Sense II - Cultivation I
Exposure to the natural magical forces of countless realms has deepened your inherent understanding of how to utilize and refine more primal matter, or break down purified eldrich substances into more base forms. Such revelation into the truth of the universe's energy has granted you the ability to expend large sums of magical power to attempt to divine some insight from the flow of fates which tie reality together.

Benefit: The maximum size of the Witch's mana pool increases by 5. After spending 1 minute in concentration the Witch may attempt a Spellfocus Check equal to 30 minus her CR. If successful she may expend 1 point of Focus to gain 1 point of MP, or spend 1 point of MP to gain 1 point of Focus. Each time she chooses to do this the cost of the conversion increases to equal the number of conversion attempts she has made that day (ig: on the 5th attempt 5 points will be spent to create 1 point of MP or Focus). The understanding of various energies and how to transmute them has similarly refined her ability to defend against otherworldly forces and the ability to read the fates of the Weave. The Witch may spend a number of Focus points equal to half the DC of an Anima-effect as an immediate action, if she chooses to do this she may attempt a Spellfocus check equal to double the effect's DC to resist it. The Witch gains the Trace Fate hex and her intelligence increases by 4.


Trace Fate (Su): By spending 10 focus points a Witch can determine if an action taken by a specific creature in the next 10 seconds (1 round) will bring good or bad results in the future. The base chance for receiving a meaningful reply is 30% + 1% per witch HD, to a maximum of 90%; this roll is made secretly. A question may be so straightforward that a successful result is automatic, or so vague as to have no chance of success. If the hex succeeds, the Witch determines if the action is a boon (if the action will probably bring good results), bane (for bad results), boon and bane (for both), or nothing (for actions that don’t have especially good or bad results). If the hex fails, she receives the “nothing” result. A witch who gets the “nothing” result has no way to tell whether it was the consequence of a failed or successful result. The result of a Trace Fate hex may take into account the long-term consequences of a contemplated action while ignoring the immediate repercussions. Once an action or Fate has been the subject of a Trace Fate hex, it cannot be the subject of the hex again. By spending an additional 10 focus points the Witch may increase her base success rate of her hex attempt by 10% to a maximum of 70%.

---

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Main Quest: Bistala Civil War, Part 1: The Witch, The Key & The Song
The Bista Athi'Z'hin people are divided. Clan against clan squabbles with one another, while the children raise up a cursed hero who has returned from the depths of the universe with tales and lessons. Bitterness is sown as the Faxtin influence slowly choking their lives, and new ideas begin to emerge, lighting fires through the rigid and ancient society. A shadow looms behind the flames of discontent and tempers boil and conflict seems inevitable.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective:
- Befriend a Bista Athi'Z'hin & learn more of the 'hero', Klee'Re-Po'Pala
- Learn more from the last of the First Weavers
- Journey to the Shadowkind's realm, Jun'athel
- Find the Olath'Uss; Erraba Chel, the Twice Risen
Alternate Objective:
- Tracking the Bista Wanderer - Complete
- Locate The Grim of Jun'athel & break into the World Veil
- Find another way into the World Veil

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Spoiler: Rewards | EXP

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Associated Skill: Spellweaving

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֍ Stella XP +900 (170,000xp)
⯎ Sovereignty Influence Gained
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Liberation Influence Gained
⯎ Community Influence Gained
⯎ Discovery Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ Occult Influence Gained
⯎ Veil Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Nightmare Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Justice Influence Gained
⯎ Memory Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Faith Influence Gained
⯎ Ascension Influence Gained
⯎ The Pale Lady +400 (170,400xp)
⯎ The Pale Bride +400 (170,800xp)
⯎ Acquired [Strange Item]
✦ Corrupted Fate (Ra'Dolfaal)
⯎ Gem of Telepathy: 3/5 Charges, 3 min duration - Identified use with UMD

SpellWeaving:
Successfully casting a Spellweave costs the Witch a number of focus points equal to Spell Level + 1.
The Witch may attempt a number of Spellweaving Checks per day equal to her Aptitude.

Alicia HP: 8 (13) / 22
Istrei'D'Val Barrier: 450/450
Focus: 27/28
Mana: 1/10
Reputation: 25
Memory: 3
Spite: 1
Honor: 311
SV. Exp: 2 (Severance)
Weave Exp: 175
Veil Exp: 1,000

Spoiler: The Reflected Alter

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Praying at the alter requires a Spell Focus check and 1d8 hours of uninterrupted meditation to establish a connection with the herald. Alicia receives no way of judging the success or failure of her attempt. Cumulative penalties are applies for very 4 hours of meditation taken from loosing focus over a prologed period of time. These penalties stack with conditions accrued from other sources such as starvation or dehydration.

Spoiler: Alicia Kelgore - Conflicted Mind

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Alicia and Stella must maintain a constant state of balance to stay in harmony with one another, however doing this is not a simple task as the Veil evolves. Alicia will progressively shift in alignment as the Veil grows and the two personalities shift further and further apart from one another, prompted by various Spell Focus checks while both performing magic and having new experiences which the Veil attempts to adapt into the persona's fabricated history. Furthermore the Veil is capable of enforcing its own canonical history as if by means of a Divergence. At the beginning and end of each day both persona's must make an opposed spell focus check, granting advantage to the victor for the next 8 hours. The persona with advantage gains a +5 circumstance bonus to all other checks against the other identity. If Stella begins to fail more and more checks her control of Alicia will begin to diminish, introducing new influences or opposing actions which she must succeed an ego check to interrupt. Further effects from the Veil may be acquired from constant failed checks. This Veil may be dismissed by revisiting the mirror and spending 1 minute in meditation.

[Deadguy]

Regina
Ghost in the Machine

Regina pushed herself up, rising to her feet again after being firmly planted with her backside in the snow. She couldn't help but laugh. It was a cold, mechanical chuckle. "Oh, what a day it has been. To decide whether to rot in a cell or be torn apart by the experiences of one's own mind... such a decision to be had." She took a deep breath and dusted herself clean of the hard packed snow that had broken her being thrown back.

Focusing on the last few moments of experience was critical in retrieving any usable information. The voice she had heard just before the vision. Her own sister's? It sounded more womanly than child. Perhaps the sister of the girl her consciousness was currently inhabiting?

Best to not dwell on things that had no current answer. Instead, she focused on combing through her memory banks for specific ques gained from the vision she had just experienced. Names, places, objects, each had history. With history came record. If it had been recorded, there was a good chance that Regina had downloaded it. She just hoped that the constant shifting of her reality did not completely scramble her internal databases.

She busied herself with further investigation of her small patch of real estate while her mind attempted to process the information. Stepping through the trees slowly, she searched for additional light sources that might extend her freedom of movement or additional memory fragments.

Spoiler: OOC

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Knowledge (History) vs Order of Dusk (1d20+22)[24]
Knowledge (Geography) vs Garden of Twilight (1d20+17)[28]
Knowledge (Technology) vs Parego Dospera Gauntlet (1d20+36)[45]
Linguistics vs Song lyrics (1d20+27)[28]
Perception vs light / fragments (1d20+22)[29]

[Mornings]

Miryks' mind tossed and roiled, struggling to recover itself and his senses. It was a wildly thrashing journey of the mind, constantly discovering new definitions to the word 'displacement'. He was still her. He was himself. He was nothing. Black. Stretched out across the three-fold expense of his every-expanding reality, he felt... drawn thin. Like butter spread too thin across the surface of bread. So thin, it threatened to bring question if there was even margarine left upon the surfaces of this quickly rotting porous realm. Black. It was green. Emerald. Darker. Grim. Terrible. Black. Lightless. Void. The small pitch formless bead of darkness he found within the emerald gleam that had raced up to meet him. Faces. Far too many faces. Countless voices. Then just one. Black. He had thought it a physical thing. A tangible thing, some form given glow. Oh, how he had erred. If only the him that was still her, could see like he could, could see the truth beyond the glow. Then he too would have realized, it was nothing but an echo; some cascading murmur left jittering in the wake of their arrival. Fragments. Like pieces of shattered glass left spinning out across the floor from all the windows which they had broken in their coming.

Each time he felt himself drawn away. Spread thin. He possessed less.... Less of 'it'. The nameless, precious thing. The irreplaceable gleam. He left it behind, traded it, bartered it away, and in exchange... his vision expanded. He understood things men could not. Not with words, for their were none in any tongue which could describe the gap. The space. The absence left between. Black. Yet, though it was that which could not be spoken, their world was not without answer. There was truth beyond the veil, beyond the falsehoods of their own being, beyond the lies they lived and told themselves. Some certainty without illusion, some truth without reservation; but it did not belong to them. That truth could never be held within their own hands. A favor forever withheld from those lies bereft of grace. There was nothing which would balm the delusion of their own essence, answer to lead them unto salvation; but they could still face such cruel fate, with gritted teeth and vigor. Black. He had to listen now. Listen to him. Perhaps they would never meet again, but within those whispers lay pieces of answer. Reflections of some coming wake, consequence born of some culmination of countless choices dispersed across the cosmos. Dots which form a line. Lines to form some face across the visage of fate. Black.

Somewhere within the vastness of that intimate space rarely seen except behind closed eyes in restless and dire sleep, lay the gloom he saw now, illuminated only by some distant faint glimmer. 'I knew you once... It's forgotten now.' The gruff voice was not one which he heard aloud, nor something which echoed through his mind. He remembered those words, some distant memory from a lifetime ago. Another him. A Miryks who wasn't here anymore. Black. The scene before him was like a snapshot. A picture caught in some frozen frame, unmoving. Forever held, perfectly preserved in some conscious stasis. An old desk piled high with old books, ink and discarded quills which rolled from their place and clattered to the floor and the tomes discarded below. The ancient man, dusky skinned, sat frozen in his memory-prison. The smoke from the pipe still firmly held in his teeth that protruded from his bushy beard remained unmoving, as if painted in place. The many scarves wrapped and piled around the man's massive shoulders seemed to bury him beneath layers, and those worn on his head seemed to darken his face, giving the twinkling golden light of his eyes a mystic air. Part of him remembered, the Storyteller had no name. He had come into being without such a thing. Perhaps he'd never survived this long before, but their meeting felt as if it were an occurrence which only came once a lifetime. With each iteration of failure, he couldn't begin to guess how many times they had met, or if those exchanges had been like this one; he doubted it. [Miryks | Perception & Apprise - Success]

Reading over his shoulder, he could make out the blank pages of a volume which seemed to spring to life. It said it in every line. In every curve and crack. In every detail of its face. Unmistakably apparent in the dull light. The abstract, the indescribable precious thing, tracing a separate letter, forming a separate word, twisting together to build the same beautiful sentence; the same painful realization. The same smile showed in the lines in of its face, something so perfectly crooked, and perfectly familiar. For the briefest of moments, it lay uncovered like a statue, like the frozen instance of this suspended memory, laying perfectly still, giving purpose to the pattern. In a sudden blinding flare, it burst into flames, to disappear, vanishing into a thousand fragments of a past, long dead and gone. [Miryks | Memory Acquired]

---

Potential Acquired (Miryks): Apotheosis, Basic – Visage of Reality & Fate I
The Sleepless has found themselves standing before the corrupted folds of the real and forgotten those 'precious things' far too many times. Having unearthed the terrors and visions long removed by L'Dalharen, they are confronted by fractions of a truth far too great to bear. Lesser pawns of the L'Drada are crushed beneath the weight of revelation, driven into a state of crippled gibbering madness, but those who have abandoned themselves to the the real, may yet rise above it.

Benefit: The Sleepless' transformative experiences have allowed him to evolve beyond the simple perceptions and mundane logic of mortal worlds, seeing beyond into the unknowable, at the expense of his sanity. The Sleepless may choose to accept 1d3 points of wisdom drain to grant himself a hunch once per vision or memory, when he is caught within such an instance. A hunch is a small insight into the vision, addressing something key within it and its long-term implications, without providing specific context. Additionally, the Sleepless gains the Spellfocus potential skill and the ability to retain a Memory pool. The Sleepless may choose to spend and trade Memory normally, but gains the ability to exchange Memory with the Dark Teller for twice the benefit. Additionally, during or directly after a memory sequence, the Sleepless may spend one Memory point to ask one question which may be answered with either a ‘yes’, ‘no' or 'maybe', the percent that this answer is true, begins at 60%. The Sleepless may choose to accept 1 point of wisdom drain to increase this percent by 10 up to a maximum of 90%. Failed questions are always answered as a 'maybe', the Sleepless has no way of determining if the answer is a result of failure without the use of other Potentials. Finally, the Sleepless's wisdom score increases by 10, and this ability score may be applied as a bonus to his attack rolls, damage rolls and skill checks.

---

"...And grueling. Traversing the Lost Coast Road was the simplest leg of the trip. The massive walls could be seen for miles and the distant enchanting view of the Irespan, the massive stone Thassilonian bridge-like relic, added a strange sense of wonderment to the view. Even for him. He had traveled with extreme haste to reach the gates of Magnimar. A strange supernatural storm had been hot on his heels for days. Even now he could see the strange clouds whip and churn in the distance carrying a stranger-still malignant wind. The eerie clouds appeared to distort the light, but here all seemed well. The noon-day sun hung in the sky without a care in the world."

"He hobbled along with 'staff' in hand, like a three-legged mule. His old bones wept in pain, protesting the load of goods he carried. Only the minor distraction of the large series of encampments on either-side of the road kept him mind from the ache. Hundreds of men and women, warriors abound, talked and mingled. Clever merchants dipped and marched through the numbers hawking wares. A less educated man might have thought the city in siege or war with the vastness of the fighters displayed before him. But he knew better. Men of all walks of life had gathered here to compete in the Summit; from local villages to wandering swordsmen and nobles. The inns were overflowing no doubt, and many had chosen to camp just outside the city, close to The Alabaster District where the action could be seen."

"He drew many a strange glance. For his appearance and attire was unusual and foreign, even when surrounded by such far-flunk folk. Dismissively he waved off a guard who volunteered to assist him with his burden as you made his way through the gate. Then paused..."

"The wave of life and movement hit him as surely a mace might. It took his breath away. The marble streets, the well fashioned white stone of the walls and buildings. The swathe of people. It disturbed him to be surrounded by so many... creatures. But the view was surely astonishing, and a wave of nostalgia washed over him. He had been to Magnimar twice in the past. The first time, long, long ago was with his Mentor and Master, Aviresh, some time before his death. The city had not even been constructed yet. There had been no buildings, no life. It was just ancient ruins of remarkable nature. The second time he had come was with his only, and last friend Jaroosh... not long before he had put an arrow through his heart. At the time the city was new and still too young to really be called a 'city'. It was but a town amid ruins. He issued a small dry chuckle. The City of Monuments they called it, yet he was older then even this place. Now a living relic... The city itself was just over a hundred years old, not so long a time. Though his aching back argued otherwise."

"He pressed on. He did not know the streets, but he knew the land. Dreamt of it, even. Dreaming of one day returning here, to relive some brief long forgotten memory of joy, with the man that betrayed him, and the Master who he had lost. He smiled, tightly grasping the letter in his pocket. This hunt, was truly blessed by Ketephys.

Even should he fall, he could think of no better place to die."


"The Junction was a wide circular sapphire floored social artery of eastern Magnimar. It stretched, at it's widest point two-hundred feet across when heading north along the Avenue of Hours."

The sight of Starsliver Plaza shook Miryks' mind, filling the vision with nothing but gray static and the deafening buzz of white noise. He couldn't forget, how could he forget. His limbs still ached from that brief nightmare, when he had been relieved of them. With a deep breath he brought himself back into focus, lowering his gaze to those frightful pages.

"It was not exactly a circle, though it had close to two-hundred feet in circumference when standing at it's very center. Merchants selling all manner of wares had stalls scattered about the large plaza. It was a strange and exotic meld of peoples coming and going. The regal flavor of the Alabaster District, the Lawful do-goods, shrewd business men, and the colorful cultural diversity of Naos all met here, in this one small space of the city. You could find men of almost any profession or skill-set lurking about. Artists, musicians, warriors, legalmen, lords, outcasts, assassins, wizards, merchants, and men of the cloth all converging upon a point. Directly upon the corner where the Alabaster District began, and touched Starsilver Plaza sat the House of Lords. At the corner of Naos lay the Triodea, the most significant cultural site in the city in terms of music and play, a theater of no small fame. Then at the point where the the Capital District terminated into the plaza, lay all manner of fine and peerless artisans of various forge-works, whose booths and stalls wheeled about like wooden mechanical soldiers held in some dizzying dance."

"He stood at the corner of Naos, directly in front of massive hundred-and-ten foot wide marble theater. A crowd was beginning to gather, and he knew why. He had heard the rumors, but had not personally traveled to the Triodea or the plaza to see it himself, such buildings had yet to be built during his last visit. Still he was aware of the rising celebrity that was 'the Lady of Morning'. Apparently she played and sung in front of the Triodea most days of the week. He had hoped to not encounter her, for the rumors that clung to her name were somewhat haunting. A factor which fueled her popularity. Whisperings of her prophetic music, and how she never preformed the same song more then once. Regardless if all this was true or not, it was true, that she had been arrested once or twice on suspicion of murder. On account of a song foretelling the death of one of her patrons. After this unnamed individual was indeed found slain in similar fashion to the Lady's song, she was taken into custody. Lacking any evidence the charges were dropped, and similarly her fame skyrocketed. An oracle of song? A seer of music? Nonsense. The world was filled with idiots. It was the general opinion of the Society and official orders of the city to not endorse this 'would-be-seer'. After all, she may indeed have proven to have been a murdering musician in the end. That answer seemed far more likely then some prophetic songstress. He pressed forward, he was not short on time, for there was no deadline to meet for this particular appointment, however the Lodge sat directly on the other-side of The House of Lords. A fair walk, and he was beginning to loose feeling in his shoulders."

"Weaving and bobbing through the massive crowd was a dangerous thing, or at-least, it had been. Killers, pickpockets, thieves, and just general nay-er-do-wells had, once-upon-a-time dwelt within the circle. Congregating like sharks in a pool of fish amid the surge of people within the plaza. It was an opportunity to rob, assault, or generally accost tourists and those who didn't know any better, getting rich in the process. Yet that was in the past. He cut through the crowd easily enough, and at its center stood an armed and armored women."

"A stout sentinel sheathed in Numerian-steel and fine attire. Her eyes were calm, cold-jeweled beads of sapphire that swiftly cut through the crowd, picking them apart of every detail. Stopping to rest on the strange old-man who nimbly maneuvered through Starsilver. The crowd provided her a wide birth of thirty feet, or so. The woman held a naked longsword in her hands, it's tip resting upon the glittering sapphire tiles. The ground at her feet was a rough and frozen sheet of ice. Wisps of dancing misty frost-matter wove and intertwined about her hands and sword. The proud tabard of Magnimar was secured on her garb. He knew who she was. Her frost-forged siccatite sword was literally legend. The hero of the the Night of Tears, and Grobaras' Insurrection; Lady Alice Ira D'Aritel. Better known as the Knight of Luminescence."

"She was the only daughter of High-Lord D'Aritel, the newly appointed Lord of Magnimar. With the outing of the Lord-Mayor, the ruling of the city had now become somewhat monarchical. Lady Alice D'Aritel was not a mere Knight simply defined by steel and mighty swordarm. She was heir to the crown now placed over the city state. The 'Warrior Princess of the People', the chant goes. Her word and sovereign right was questioned by none, though there simply wasn't anyone left alive within the city after the Night of Tears would dare speak otherwise. What few survivors remained had fled the city or gone into hiding, but even those who would stand against the rising hegemony wouldn't risk doing so directly in the Lady's presence. Lady D'Aritel was a women of unparalleled principle and might. Her peerless strength was remembered and capitalized upon by those who recalled her valiance during the last moments of the Coup d'etat, vain efforts vying for favor from their would-be king."

"Despite their motives, their recounted tales had been true still. The former Lord Mayor, Haldmeer Grobaras, with his back to the wall, attempted to burn the city to the ground, rather then relinquish it to his 'usurpers'. Lady D'Aritel possessing the only free unit of 'rebels', fought valiantly, saving the eastern Capital District and The Alabaster District from the Mayor's mad scheme. Parts of the city were destroyed despite the efforts, but through the fires and assault Lady D'Aritel and her men prevented even a single civilian casualty from occurring within the areas they had taken back control. It was an act which no Magnimarian who lived through that bloody encounter would soon forget."

"The rule of The D'Aritel House was a strong and noble one. A stark contrast to the terrible corruption that had plagued the city since Haldmeer Grobaras was made Lord-Mayor. Now they led the city with an unflinching will and commitment to justice, crushing the last pockets of depravity still lurking within the city's official offices. All matters of state were overseen or guided by those who carried the trust of the House D'Aritel, with power slowly and carefully being redistributed to the peoples under a weary eye. The new House of Lords, was a newly created tiered office only a few years old. Through it, once again noble lords were allowed to hold court within the building's physical estate. It also allowed noble families the ability to hold general cases of appeals from the public. However, the newly founded office, dubbed the House of Sovereigns, was instated as the primary ruling body of legal matters, overseen by Lord D'Aritel himself. These positions were filled by public vote, and those elected were elevated to House-Lords, receiving a suitable noble title if none were possessed. The notion outraged most noble houses who has helped take Magnimar from the Mayor, but the support of the general public drowned such concerns away. It was a system that forced the noble lords to use their limited power within the House of Lords to do good by the people to remain a House-Lord, and retain their status. There were some safeguards of course, after all, it was a cleverly devised system, to force accountability back in the lap of every citizen regardless of status. Despite the protest, the revolutionary legislation appeared to be working towards leading the city to heights of glory unseen for many years."

"The 'Steel Princess' nodded sternly in acknowledgment as the old man made his way towards the House of Lords, but suddenly the churning crowd stopped. The halt was so abrupt, he nearly fell into the strange folk surrounding and milling-about around him. All eyes seemed to be drawn behind him, towards the Triodea. He turned to see the theater doors had opened. A large and lavish animated chair marched out of the darkness to the theater's foyer. A women leisurely strolled out of the dim interior, her head rolled back to the sky in careless thought. She dragged her feet on the ground as if she was too tired to walk properly, then plopped down in the deeply cushioned chair rather inelegantly. The noon-sun struck her pale-polished skin and cast an enchanting aura about her. Her distant deep aqua hued gaze seemed to glow faintly and scanned the crowd as if half-awake. The silver hair running from her head was neat and well cared for, and an assortment of platinum jewelry and finery hung from her white gown in a shamelessly-ostentatious-manner. She carried a strange, eerie-yet-unearthly beauty. Raising her hand, she smiled at the gathering crowd. An overly lavished mandolin of white-birch and Perl was placed into her hand by some unseen attendant, then a bizarre silence gripped the air.

The static once again choked him, muting the world as the crashing waves of deafening static drowned away the reality the tome had created for him. It sent him skittering back, clutching his head. That face. He knew that woman. The memory of her outstretched hand standing upon the steps of the theater still haunted him. A bloody scene painted with the black of nightmare. She smiled. With great effort, he wrestled himself back, gasping for air. It was as if he had pulled his head out from a barrel of freezing water, each time he lost himself in his own suffering, it became harder to climb back out. He steadied himself, then lowered his gaze back into the volume splayed out before him. He could only hope that the story of this stranger, this ancient man he had never met, withheld some fragments, some pieces to the chaos and mystery which still seemed to pervade his senses.

If there was ever a time to walk freely amid the plaza this was it. He could have easily make his way unhindered to Heidmarch Manor, the Society Headquarters, or even perhaps...."

[Part 1]

[Mornings]

"Finding himself immersed in a crowd much more dense than usual, the Numerian-born Kellid grunted in annoyance as he forced his way through. In spite of the scowl on his face speaking otherwise, Viridi was in fact enjoying the journey through the busy streets. Though the road was packed, it took little effort to part the sea of bodies before him to pass through, and any who began to speak up about his less than pleasant passing were quickly silenced at the sight of his ludicrously sized sword. Of more interest were that such crowds brought plenty of lovely sights for him to rest his eyes upon, ranging from a number of foreigners in the crowd, to locals he'd never seen, including one rather buxom red-head some ways distant, and even the Knight of Luminescence standing alone with her magical blade."

"It is on this last sight that his gaze lingered however. Lady Alice Ira D'Aritel, the woman that Viridi had decided to surpass and make his own, always stood out to him even when she wasn't being given so wide a berth by the crowd. Images of what he could do flooded his mind, dreams of challenging her to a duel then and there, of rending through her armor and their struggle of steel turning into one of flesh right in the street. It was only with strained effort that Viridi returned to the present in time to notice the arrival of the so-called 'seer' at the steps of the Triodea."

"He'd never given much thought to the stories of the songstress. Seeing the future was a useful talent, but not one he cared for personally. Her beauty, on the other hand, was not something Viridi had heard of previously. Even with the Knight of Luminescence standing before him, Viridi found it difficult to look away from the mysterious woman."

"The silence of the crowd, hushed by the arrival of the seer, was alien to Viridi. He'd grown up in Magnimar, and had never heard such silence from a gathering of this size. Strange as it was, it made him curious. Deciding that it was not quite yet time to make Alice aware of his existence, he looked back at the lady knight once more while silently vowing to one day see her stand just like that, but as naked as the sword in her hand. With his oath made, the brute of a man pushed his way through the stilled crowd toward the Triodea, intending to move so that he was the closest one to the seer when she speaks."


"Upon noticing the unusual gathering before the theater, Asiresh quickly set himself towards the nearest alleyway surrounding the main square. The sight of the crowd growing dense before the seeress sent cold shivers through his old bones. He wanted no part of whatever she had to provide, but certainly, he couldn't relinquish the opportunity to learn more of the false prophetess. Opting to instead adopt a defensive posture at some safe distance from an alley, he maneuvered to where he would be capable of observing any peculiar happenings that may occur. His back sent stabbing pains up into the back of his head from the weight he carried in his massive traveling bag, protesting his hastened movements. On his way moving opposite of the crowd, he was pushed aside by a hulking man-creature carrying a stupidly large weapon."

"Fumbling backwards by the ignorant ape's shove, he recovered his footing, giving the fool a sneer and spitting behind his back before resuming his own march. Stupid children like that fool wouldn't live for long, of that much he was certain. As he arrived at his chosen position, he was somewhat pleased to find a stray dog picking through the garbage littered about the empty alleyway. The old man whistled for the hound, producing a small piece of stale bread as the beast cautiously drew near. Men were frail pitiable creatures, thriving on the delusions they fed themselves, until they so too sought to drown others in their same fallacies. A cycle of self-deceit, as if by fooling themselves and those about them, they could fool the world as well. But despite their games and foolish dreams, judgment came still, unchanging, merciless, uncaring and true. Beasts understood this better then men, and in a way they could see further then the mortal souls who would sooner shroud themselves in some self-manufactured madness. Nature was tied to those same forces the idiots and cowards feared, two halves of a coin who's flip could not be halted by their hands. One day, that reality would dash those fantasies across the jagged rocks of the world, and he would stand there above the trees with the hunters watching, and smile."

"A slim figure could be seen at the front of a fairly decent-sized covered wagon, a team of donkeys leading the way forward. The man was experienced with traffic, having spent most of his life either on the streets or in the wagon. Still, the city seemed a little bit more congested than usual, and Avaricious rather worried that he'd be late to his meeting with Ms. Whatever-Her-Name-Was. To be perfectly honest, he was a little bit unnerved by the fact that he'd be working with the Pathfinder Society. So many capable fighters and warriors, all of them easily ten times as strong as the slim, five foot seven wagon-driver. However, he put his worries in the back of his head with all the rest of the stress, resolving to just enjoy the day. So, he begun to hum as the wagon made it's way through the streets, tapping the small wooden board beneath his feet, humming a little bit even as the citizens around him came a little too close to the dhampir. It was true, the warmth of nearby travelers could prove to sometimes be quite uncomfortable for the less-than-completely-living, but for a man in his particular circumstance, less so. He had learned to hide his discomfort after many long years spent with the living. After all, you could hardly get on someone's good side by acting like they repulse you, despite the bard finding most of the living sweaty and foul smelling. Still, disguising his inner unease well enough, his thin lips drew together in a subtle smile. His dark shades hid his eyes from not only the sun's harsh rays, but the populace at large."

"Biting his lip for a second, ceased his humming song, giving him a moment of deep preparatory breaths, settling his nerves. What was he doing stressing about some society clerk? Today was a day to celebrate, not worry! He'd finally be able to pay off the cutthroats he'd been in debt to, and in doing so get himself back on track, back to focusing on his priorities; what really mattered. He wouldn't take back what he'd done, even if he could, not in a thousand ages! Yet, the tingle in his mind whispered to him; something wasn't quite right. Avaricious took the occasional glance around, smirking as he witnessed the men and women in tabards pass by, hoisting their banners into the air as if their life depended on it. Who were they fooling with there bright colors and house emblems? Did they honestly belief their loyalties mattered? That the houses and noblemen they pledged their lives to really cared about for the well-being of such small, insignificant people? Fools! Fools, the lot of them! Thinking that a title and a shiny bit of metal strapped onto their fleshy little bodies really meant anything in the end. No... In the end there was only power, and coin, neither of which the footsoldiers in even the shiniest plate mail could ever even hope to possess. Pah. Avaricious never could understand those who'd put their lives at stake for some fat, foppish old man they'd likely never meet in the first place."

"He was torn away from the monologue of his thoughts as his eye darted to the flashing armor of several Korvosan Knights, the loud clank of their armor rather disruptive as they march past him. Their closeness to the vehicle forcing him to take his time in slowly look away, as to not draw further suspicion. The last thing he wanted now was to be recognized by some whelp with a big sword and balls enough to approach him. He had nothing to worry about, probably, but he'd hardly have survived as long as he had, had he not been careful of the little things. No matter how paranoid his efforts may have seemed to others, there was still some semblance of method left deep somewhere beneath the madness. As the knights faded behind the wagon, the man gazed towards a few others as the carriage made it's way closer and closer to the junction that was Starsilver Plaza."

"Here comes a baker, there goes a blacksmith, that one's a priest. All of them good, decent, law-abiding folks, surely. Singing to their gods on days of prayer, begging for the gifts they'll send. Hah! What a bunch of buffoons! As far as Avaricious was concerned, praying to little stone figurines was as pointless as asking a large, particularly mossy boulder for gold. Where were the gods when his life fell apart? Where were the gods when the Inquisitors came... Upon the mere thought of the word, "Inquisitor", Avaricious was reminded once more of the torches, shining in the night, the glint of a steel blade... He could feel it, he could feel the fire, the warmth... a blazing inferno in front of him, he could here them! The screams, the horribly, agonizin-

"Oh, a bird. A bird distracted the bard as it flew by, the little grey thing cooing and fluttering loud enough to pull him away from his dark reminiscence. Looking forward, the small man saw it, the plaza. Finally! Time does fly when you're deep in thought, or so it seemed. He took some extra time to find a decently sized alleyway, before parking the wagon within the narrow space and jumping off from his seat at the fore. He pat the donkey closest to him before whistling once more, sliding across the wall to fit through the narrow gap he'd left himself on either side of the vehicle to reach the back of the wagon. From there, he made sure both of his chests were locked, and that everything valuable was stuffed away into their proper places. Fortunately, he had made his stop in nicer, rich part of Magnimar, but as experience had taught him, you could never be too careful. He grabbed his crossbow from its place in the rear above his storage chests, along with a few bagged kits he'd prepared ahead of time. Pulling a mirror out of a nearby cloth, he flashed it over himself for a moment, whistling quietly as he looked himself over. Dabbing his thumb with spit before wiping a smudge of dirt off his regal finery he nodded to himself in approval. The colors were faded now, and the sleeves were a little worn. However, it still fit him quite well. The muted colors of blue, gold, and red matching the quieted, not-so-vibrant hue of his pale skin and stark white hair. With a squint of his eye, he finally decided upon a final article of clothing, reaching for the feathered tricorn cap he had become so fond of wearing. With a grand gesture it settled the cap upon the top of his head. The final touch. His hair appeared a bit greasy, and it was true that it would do well not to look too undignified. He didn't want anyone to think he was some common vagrant, the ex-nobleman still had a bit of pride left yet still, though there was not much which could be done to resolve the conundrum that was his hair."

"With that done, he walked out of the alleyway, ruffling his blue tailed overcoat as he trotted out into the cold. Looking over to the Triodea, he glanced fondly towards it as he recognizes a few of the musicians standing about outside. In the past, he would frequently come around the place and perform under a stage name, with a bit of makeup of course. It was a good way to make money, but he still had no intention of letting any of them know who he really was, or what he really looked like. Magnimar was his closest thing to a base of operations he could describe, so particularly, public cons weren't possible, but that hardly meant he didn't try the occasional pickpocketing or false palm reading when in need of some pocket change. Similarly... The man snapped his fingers. He'd almost forgotten. With a quiet word and a little wiggle of his fingers, he patted his clothing once over, ushering forth his weak magic of prestidigitation to clean his suit. There, good as new! You look beautiful, Avy, the man had thought to himself before smiling and bobbing his head pleasantly. Why, thank you, Avy, the man replied to himself in his head. He paused to consider if really just gave himself some manner of pep talk in his own head. It appeared so, and it was hardly an unusual occurrence for him recently, he just often didn't notice. Being the loner he was, there wasn't much in his life in terms of companionship. These little things helped fight back the crushing claustrophobic weight of his own loneliness, or so he resolved. Everyone needed a little bit of encouragement every once in a while, and with no one to tell him he was handsome, or kind, or good anymore, he eventually learned to just do it himself. It was... unhealthy, but it worked."

"Then, his lips curled in disgust as he looked on over the crowd fastly gathering just at the marble theatre. No doubt present to cheer for that 'Lady of Morning'. That was her name, yes? Lady of Morning... Avaricious pondered over the many different ways to make an "M" sound, while simultaneously thinking over the Lady and her supposed powers. He'd have to meet her soon enough, Yes? Right? Maybe, hmm. Decisions! The man did want to listen in on a performance or two, but at the same time he hardly wanted to be seen by so many people right now. He felt so naked without his makeup on, so bare in public. Yes, he'd come see the Lady after his meeting with the Society. He'd probably need a bit of a stress-reliever after spending so much time around so many scary adventurer types. Speaking of scary adventurer types... Avaricious had become so engrossed in his thoughts of possibly malevolent seer-singers and the origin of the letter "M", that he seemed to have walked straight into the 30 ft. gap that was the space between the proclaimed 'Warrior Princess of the People', Alice, and the crowd of smelly, sweaty people. In fact, he quickly found that he had walked directly up to the frightful woman by accident, likely breaking her eye contact with whoever she had been staring down before."


"Incidentally, just as the bard realized that the stench of man was oddly less repugnant where he now stood, the implications finally settled within his mind like a coin tossed rattling down an empty metal sink. His brows furrowed in confusion before he looked around, turning to stare directly into Alice D'Aritel's face; his eyes opening frightfully wide as the revelation that he'd almost ran directly into, arguably, the most dangerous person in the city on the side of law in his daze. He felt his body go rigid, simply standing in place with a blank look across his face. Like a deer caught in headlights, his mind completely froze, unsure of what do to other than blink.

"It was at that very moment the crowd fell completely silent, caught in their suspenseful bewilderment as the Lady of Morning made her entrance. An entrance Avaricious completely missed, as his back to the steppes of the theater, instead staring unmoving before Alice. The sudden unexplainable quiet fills his soul with dread, he could feel the blood drain from his face. In his mind, every eye was on him, waiting, mutely with hushed anticipation. His hands were shaking, but he did not panic. He had never been a man prone to such a thing, but he didn't know what to do. In an attempt to break the proverbial 'ice' and defeat the choking silence that had fallen upon the crowd his mind latched onto some desperate scheme. To say something... Do something! He barely even had a moment to contemplate what to say, instead reverting to age-old reflex and blurt out a quick joke. Unfortunately, he'd been working on a specific joke the night before, and it had gotten stuck in his mind. Unable to grasp anything quicker, the words simply tumbled out of his mouth as loudly as he could muster." "Erm... Uhhh! I knew an old Bishop who had lost some of his teeth, and complained of others being so loose that he was afraid they would soon fall out. “Never fear,” said one of his friends, “they won’t fall.” “And why not?” inquired the Bishop. His friend replied, “Because my testicles have been hanging loose for the last forty years, as if they were going to fall off, and yet, there they are still.”

"Following the words he sharply recoiled, closing his eyes tightly.Realizing what he just said, a look of horror came creeping across his face, his cheeks reddening. Did he literally just tell a joke about an old man's testicles to the 'Steel Princess' of Magnimar? In a final attempt to make things a little bit better, he started quietly laughing. It was a forced, nervous laugh; clearly not real, but obviously meant to distract from the horrid thing he just vomited out without any thought."

"Ha, aha, ha ha, ah?"

[Part 2]

[Mornings]

"A group of ragged-worn mercenaries baring no notable colors began to laugh hysterically at the man's unexpected attempt at humor. One of them fell over laughing, attempting to rise to his feet, but his action was impeded by the weight of his mail. Failing splendidly, he fell over a second time, adding to another round of laughter from the lot of them. Avaricious opened his eyes slowly. The sudden sound of cackling drew strange looks in his direction, but it was better still than the oppressive silence. Alice's gaze slowly rotated over to the group of men. The humor quickly bled away from the air along with the color in their faces. The outburst ended as immediately as it had begun."

"There was no trace of acknowledgment. No trace of humor. Just the same familiar unflinching frozen visage of the Steel Princess gazing back at him. No fragment of scorn, nor pity. Only what he had begun to identify as a simple and calm indifference; it sent a small shiver down his spine. Her presence almost felt transcendent, or inhuman to say the least. As if removed from the simple feelings and expressions that was the definition of one's own humanity."

"Mind your step." "It was a sharp, clear, crisp vocal-riposte that did not dismiss his words or notions in any measure of disrespect, but simply ended the exchange utterly. Wrapping it up neatly like a gift, before carefully placing it upon a shelf in a market stall, and then burning the whole of the tradeway to the earth."

"The true meaning of her words quickly dawned upon him however; his feet had gone numb... Looking down, the view of the frost-rime that had begun to wither and freeze his well-worn noble boots came into focus. He'd walked directly within her frozen-domain, that unreachable place. He knew full-well the birth provided around her was not due to her house, or shrill nature. Hopping back out of that frost-frozen space he felt the unnatural chill ease away. The experience had simply served to justify his worst fears. The fairytale sword, Gri'athal, was a fearsome thing, and Lady Alice was truly worthy of the lock-step-terror she inspired."

This time, it was not the echoing of remembrance which cascaded through Miryks' consciousness, but something else. A projection seeping into his thoughts. He looked away from the pages, but there was no one about him. It was not a voice, simply words imprinted at the fore of his mind. A blot of ink now settled across the passage which the small lights had written across the pages of the mysterious volume. Something removed, missing, erased...

"...Her last words streamed off into a whisper. Slowly, her eyes opened and her head rolled back to look at the peoples below. A strange stunned quiet choked the air. The look of worry and shock was deeply chiseled into the features of the onlookers who stood unmoving at the base of the theater. Even the foreigners visiting wore a dire mask of concern. Then suddenly..."

"A man screamed out, "RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! THE CITY WILL FALL SECOND BELL!" Like a shockwave running over the face of water, the words rippled through the gathering. A panic ensued. Men, women, and persons of every sort, broke-off from the plaza trying to separate themselves from the chaos. Peddlers dropped goods and wares, running over those in their path in a mad dash for the southern gate to the Lost Coast road. Screams and shouts erupted as the tumultuous mob stampeded out over itself dissolving into little more than a panicked riot. Some peoples sprinted away, perhaps to escape the city, while others simply aimed to remove themselves far from the infernal-witch who prophesied the dreadful assault. Lady D'Aritel moved about, helping those she could, and pulling men up who had been accosted in the rush."

"It donned on him like a spark given life in his mind. Asiresh's old eyes grew wide in suspicious realization. The storm that followed me... could it be that she is controlling it? He looked to the sky once more before lowering his gaze back to the stage. His mind flickered with potential answers, reflecting once more on the words the woman had sang."

"He turned his sight to the east in hopes of seeing the wall of clouds once again, but nothing but buildings and walls rose up to greet him. There was no time to move position for a better view. His concerns were disrupted by the sudden outburst from the crowd as turmoil filled Starsilver Plaza. Glancing down at the brand in the palm of his hand, he could only pray that this would be the hunt worthy of his god, and that there would be some courage to be found from those worthless warriors about him when it would be time to stand and defend the city. They didn't have long."

"Finally, Avaricious looked out over the wall, seeing the lodge ahead. It's gates open and vibrant, yet still somewhat intimidating to him. He ceased his musings of past regret and cast the familiar spell once more; cleaning his shoes and dirtied socks with a waggle of his gloved fingers. He was dressed in his finest, a blue and gold coat of exceptional quality, covering a brilliant white vest with silver patterning, buttons of silver and sleeves of the same gold color, making the coat seem all the more regal. Gloves of the same white material covered his smooth and somewhat spidery hands, trousers of the richest brown cloth, dark as chocolate, cover his legs and hips. A leather belt topped with a buckle of shining platinum held his britches up. The codpiece built into the pants was slightly masked by the flaps of his shining white vest. His footware was no exception, white socks and polished black shoes can be seen completing the attire. Some ends here and there were frayed, but all-in-all he looked to be a man of good taste, and certainly a man with a lot of gold to to toss about. As he stepped forward through the gates of the lodge, he caught the end of Viridi's conversation, transitioning from his somewhat morose look to a more official one. There was a mischievous smile on his face, with one eyebrow raised higher than the other. This was his most charismatic face, he man knew it well. It was the mask he'd forged, the visage he'd practiced and refined for hours upon stage or mirror. He shed and adopted the characters just as readily as she bought and discarded clothes. This time, he'd play the foppish fool, a role he was certain he could play unquestionably well."

"Viridi grunted in annoyance at the door being locked and the announcement of a delay, figuring he should've followed after the Lady of Morning after all. In the end though, he dropped with an unceremoniously loud thud unto the steps in front of the door and looked around at those already gathered with an evidently confused expression." "Alright, I'll ask it. You look pathetic, but at least you can hold a sword, so I'da understood if you were going with us on whatever this is," "His words were directed at the tall men who had greeted him, the chronicler, Andel Gesseran." "But what's with the old man and the kid? He don't look like a mage, and she's too young to do any fighting. 'm I supposed ta be their body guard on whatever this is, or did we get these letters at random?"

"They are here, Master Swordsman, because there are certain people who's skill sets and abilities can accomplish far more than that chunk of metal you've got strapped to your back there." "The bard spoke rather tongue-in-cheek, although there was a bit of truth in his statement. With the gait of a dancer and the appearance of an actor, albeit a pale one, the charisma that the nobleman boasted made itself apparent. Though his persona was little more than a mask, in his heart Avaricious was still quite a man of elegance and niceties. He flashed a smile, pulling a satin cloth out of his sleeve and rubbing it across his forehead in an exaggerated gesture." "Ugh, I simply must get out of this heat. So much excitement in the square today, hah." "He made his way past Viridi, not even bothering to look towards him, instead settling his gaze on Alica. Hmm. She was dressed fairly well. It brought into question what was such a woman doing around the arm of the barbaric looking man before him? He didn't give the circumstance any more thought, instead clasping his gloved hands together and addressing the chronicler." "So... There was adventure to be had, sirrah?"

"The old man eyed the kellid-man coldly, "You speak as if you truly know who I am. Perhaps, I am nobody to you. Perhaps, I shall remain simply as an old man whose existence is called into question by strangers." His gaze shifted towards the girl who still shrouded himself from sight, "To you however, I will say but one thing. As you don the colors of the hunt, so too must you must know this." "Asiresh lifted his left hand out towards the young woman, exposing his palm facing up to reveal the holy brand he carried." "This is who I am, nothing more."

The summoner listened to the others as the thoughts of her future raced through her mind. She found that something was lacking and decided to speak up. Alica let go of Viridi’s arm and took a short step away before opening her mouth. “I am looking forward to working with all of you. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, we should all be introduced. I am Alica Derexhi.” She did a short curtsey before holding out her hand as if gesturing to someone, “And this is my companion Wayan.” On cue, Wayan stepped out of hiding and tossed back her hood, revealing a head hidden in shadow with glowing yellow eyes. “It is great to see someone almost as good at hiding as myself” Wayan said with a nod towards the bush where Luka was hidden. Alica continued unfazed. “This great swordsman beside me is Viridi. I assume I am here for my magic and my abilities to work with outsiders. Sadly, I do not carry the full weight of my father’s organization behind my back though. Now who do I have the pleasure of working with?” She looked around at the others, studying them, trying to figure out. She waved towards Asiresh. “You are not nobody to us, at least not if we are to work together. A name to call you by would be nice.”

"The old man sneered, acknowledging the woman's faint sleight. Choosing to ignore the ignorance of the wench, and how his remark was not directed towards her he replied, "I'm only here for one purpose. My name is nothing of great importance, but what you should know is if you get in my way... I will not hesitate to 'get through you' " He returned the big oaf's careless gaze with a frosty leer of his own."

His curiosity about what the inside of a shadow-creature felt like was interrupted when the newcomer arrived, however. Thankfully, Avaricious' 'compliment' about him being a 'master swordsman' was enough to keep Viridi from noticing the thinly veiled insult. Instead of challenging the dhampir's words and returning fire, he merely grunted in response. However the unnamed old half-elf, elicited a more obvious reaction. A short, derisive bark of a laugh escapes the bloodrager's mouth when the ancient man spoke his warning. Well he's got balls. Let's see if he can do more than talk. "Is that a challenge? You're right, you're not important. But you are funny." Standing up to his full height, Viridi glared at the old elf while holding his arms out to his sides leaving his chest completely exposed. "Let's see what you can do. Give me your best shot."

"Asiresh bolted up from his broken seat. With a sharp rotation, his staff snaked behind one leg. A grunt and minor amount of effort bent the wooden dowel. His hand's were absurdly quick, running a string across the length with a single swift blinding sweep of the hand. The staff immediately took on the appearance of a longbow. In the same motion the weapon had been strung, a blooming green thorny missile found its way from his hand to the half-drawn bow. The transformation had been preposterously brisk, not even presenting those about him the opportunity to protest. It was a skill refined over two lifetimes worth of practice. He leveled the weapon at the troublesome boy as he came to full draw." "I'm only going to give you one warning, child. If you take so much as a step towards me, ill put this bolt between your eyes... So i advise to sit back down, and know your place."

"Alica took a step back towards Viridi, grabbing his arm again, though her gaze is fixed on Asiresh." "Calm down guys. We are all on the same side here. Obviously the Venture Captain has a plan for bringing us all here, it will be much easier to accomplish that if we are all unharmed. You heard the lady in the plaza, some bigger challenge to test your mettle is comming soon and you better be ready for it." The words were meant for both of them, but still she turned towards Viridi, hosting herself up on her toes to whisper in his ear." "He is not worth it. I look forward to seeing you fight, but beating up an old man is not really going to be much of one."

"Realizing that Alica was right and that the old man wasn't worth the effort, he lowered his arms. Despite the lack of sport in it, he also couldn't back down from the geezer's provocations. Viridi kept his gaze focused on the old gaffer without moving." "You heard her old man. There's no point in starting a fight you can't win. Put the toothpick thrower down, and I'll forgive your little threat."

"As much as he despised the thought of conceding even an inch to the giant idiot, it didn't take him more than a long second to think through the repercussions which would follow. He was convinced that taking the shot now would endanger the hunt he had made such a long journey to pursue. Slowly, he lowered his weapon, slackening his draw before snapping the arrow back beneath the folds of his many layered cloak into some unseen quiver." "I simply want to enjoy what the hunt brings me next. Your life is worth far less then that, but know this; I will be watching you. As for my name, simply call me 'Asiresh'..."

"As the conflict played out, a stranger walked through the old gateway unto the lodge estate. Her darkened plate armor was an unusual sight this far north in Varisia. Despite the dye applied to the metal, it wasn't difficult to identify a Gray Maiden when you saw one. The scarred-faced woman glanced over each person there, and the strange encounter she had stumbled into. Though whether she was sizing them up, or just observing who she was dealing with was anyone's guess. A large shirtless man, a young woman practically attached to his arm, an old man with a bow and a middle aged looking man. Quite the crew that had been assembled in front of the manor." "Any of you Sheila Heidmarch?" "She asked after a moments pause," "Or did you all receive a similar letter as I?" "She pulled out the ledger she had received, unfolding it so the others could easily see its contents."

"Alica smiled towards the new arrival, happy that someone isn't threatening others immediately upon their meeting.""Ah, you must be the last one. Apparently we are all summoned here, in what I imagine was a similar fashion to you. However the Venture Captain is busy inside behind barred doors. We will have to wait to see her. I am Alica Derexhi, it is a nice to meet you. The man beside me is Viridi. The shadowy one is Wayan. The old man is Ashiresh. That is Andel Gesseran. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" "She let go of Viridi's arm again taking another curtsy before pointing out each person in turn; she felt like taking charge. This group needed a firm but gentle hand to avoid pulling itself apart, or so it seemed. Jeska gave each person a nod as Alica identified them during her mock introductions. "My name is Jeska Navern. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." "She returned the letter to her bag, simply stuffing it into a pocket with her gauntleted hand." "So, we are waiting around until the Venture Captain is ready to see us then?"

"The bard let a trace of a smirk play out on his fair-yet-weathered face, his eyes flashing their light crimson as he gazed around from person to person, making a few mental notes as he glanced from flashy individual to flashy individual. From the muscular warrior with his grunts and lurches, that massive bit of metal on his back shining just a few shades darker than his silvery buttons in the light of midday, to the wizened old man with the bow and arrow, grimacing in the sun; bitter in both mind and mannerism. Avaricious was quite impressed with the variation of adventurers gathered there today. As Asiresh and Viridi continued to butt heads, the bard kept an eye on the newcomer, Jeska. She seemed a military type, muscular and strong for a woman, no doubt just as strong of will. However, there was not enough information on her to make a proper analysis, so he refrained from attempting anything specific beyond a slight nod her direction as he was acknowledged."

"Though the confrontation between the young brute and the old man seemed hopelessly weighted in the barbaric man's favor, in Wayan's eyes, that was far from the case. He stood frozen before the sight of the terrible achon whom glared down from above. Her form was spectral. Seemingly almost completely constructed of no more then a wispy semi-solid vapor, like a clear smoke wafting away from the surface of dry-ice. She possessed no feet to speak of, no lower half at all. Its form simply dissolved into pale smoke at her waist leaving no trace of evidence to substantiate her existence. A towering fifteen foot tall being, suspended above the old geezer, with a body so light and airy, it could have passed for the heat rising off the terrace-way under the noon-day sun. Hers was a vision awe-inspiring, and also that of terror. Clad in whipping ghastly shawls left torn and wild, she looked as a woman whom had been wildly running through the thick of woods and brush. Face masked behind long flowing funeral-veil, the shroud obscured all from her head to chest, whipping in some ethereal breeze. A great crown of massive antler-like horns stood proudly from her brow piercing the deathly veil. The great eight foot arc of mist she bore resembled a bow drawn down at the foolish warrior, as if mimicking the old man's gestures; like some terrible god of the wood. They had lowered their weapons in unison, as if somehow joined, then she was gone; without a trace or hint of her passing. The sight shook the magical creature, and though he desired to speak out in alarm to his master, the words stuck in his throat."

'The Balance', or so they had been called long ago when they were once joined. Their reign had begun long before the creation of the Wheel and Council, and had been forgotten to their world longer still. Siif and Sèr were old gods of the First World, from an age without true law or guidance. Whimsical, cruel and divine. They were great deities to the fey and all mortal races within their domain; guardians of the natural cycle. Their forms were many, but to those who knew them well or remembered the old tales, they appeared as great wolves of unnatural stature and appearance. The thought came to Miryks mind like a whisper echoing through the dark. He didn't know where the sudden revelation had been prodded from, but the creeping cold running up his back told him that regardless of his otherworldly environment in that time-frozen realm, he wasn't alone.

"As he lowered his weapon, he could feel it upon his hand. The familiar sensation over his holy brand was unmistakable. The Kiss of Winter. It brought back rare, fond memories, from so very long ago. The two great-wolves were now his only friends left in this world, though they were far away now; dancing among the heavens no-doubt, in their endless hunt. It warmed a small place in his bitter-old-heart. This hunt was blessed, he knew for certain now, and he would see them again soon... on the other side."

[Part 3]

[forg99rules]

To say that she was in awe of the place that they had arrived in would be a lie, the amount of black in the polished hall was like nothing she had seen... or had she seen it before, she was unsure if she had ever been here in her previous life and thinking back on it for a moment as she was prodded along she tried to recall if she had ever appeared before a Justice before. While part of her mind sought information on her previous life another part was listening in on the conversation that Caus'fel was having with Halja. Her mind again moving to try and determine if she knew who any of these knew beings were. At the mention of Halja being married to her brother she briefly wonders if that is normal for beings of this kind. Did they all marry internally for the most part or did they branch out more often than not.

As Caus'fel called out to the Bhafa'fel whom was the Justice that was going to judge her, her mind again turned to see if it could pull up any information regarding this being and if it was likely to show her mercy for causing damage that she did not know she would have caused. Listening to the being speak she was a little surprised when the Justice said that he would like to hear from her. Quickly her mind scrambled to figure out how best to defend her position, hearing that the Justice wanted to know what the Teller had told her gave her a route to follow and hopefully most of the blame could be shifted over to the Teller.

Bowing slightly to Bhafa'fel "Thank you for allowing me to speak Justice of Black Bhafa'fel, Regarding your question about the Teller and my goals, I sought the Teller out initially not just for a Servitor but also for an Instructor. I have found myself to not only be lacking in power but as well in training in how to wield the power I currently posses, I am trying to get closer to my former glory as the Black Magister and perhaps even surpass what I once was in hopes of being able to defend against what had previously bested me. The Teller had listed twelve possible instructors for me to choose from, the names of the Instructors provided to me were Whispering Witch of Duvan, Adessa Allessa. The Umbral Ascendant, Vaelre Scen'maelma. She Who Crossed the Breach, the wandering Witch Elm'souja. The Terror of Kerym, First Witch Knight Lord; Avry'alaieta. The Behemoth Below, J'June'Cel. The Beast, Kauf'saji. The Litany of Despair, Gran Hexe Cross - Pau'Lialtilna. The Relicuum Lalaphra, Who Lay In Earth; and her sister, Phralata, Who Rests Forever. The Suspended Eternal, Rhess Alklevrielba of Kathe. The First of Owsla, Salice of Time... and the Hexen, Xenaph. The Teller provided me with a bit more information on most of the aforementioned names, of the names I made note that the Teller had not given me any information on the Hexen Xenaph. I proded a little for the Teller to give me something about the Hexen and all I received in return was being told that some matters are best left unspoken. After this exchange the Teller then made mention of my lack of Servitor, thus I asked the Teller for some recommendations based on a few requirements that I had in mind. The Teller provided me with a name as well as how much Affinity it would cost for each Aid in reaching their location. The names and costs that were provided to be me are, One-hundred-and-fifty Affinity for Elahkhuur. Ninety, for Glas Meri, Keeper of the Vault & Fields Between. Seventy, for J'June Rae'el, Of Memory Past. Sixty, for Faux, Who Stole All Trust & Balance. Fifty, for her sister; Faux, Who Was The Lifeless Mirror. Thirty, for Nahrasti, Who Forged The Kingsblade. My initial pick was Faux, Who Was The Lifeless Mirror but after some consideration and insight from another Witch I decided to instead choose to seek out J'June Rael'el, Of Memory Past. The Teller told me that J'June was trapped withing a cycle of death and rebirth and that I would have to relinquish all that I am while timing my entry into her Divergence to put and end that was not sown in hopeless terror. I then declared that I would make J'June my Servitor and the teller told me that i would require entrance into L'Tresk'ri'Vet and that to get approval I would have to seek out the L'Valm D'Akh or the Council. Further the Teller elaborated that the L'Valm D'Akh are rarely available and that we would have to seek the Council. I then traveled with the Teller to Che'el Talthelra where I was told that the Bista Athi'Z'hin would be able to get me further towards my goal if I was to befriend one. It appeared though that the Teller did not have more information regarding the Bista or perhaps the Teller was trying to Mess with me by not giving me correct information. Thankfully The Lord of Battle, King Tenebris was there and was able to explain to me a bit more in regards to the Bista. After spotting a Bista that I thought I could use to further my goals I chased after it and eventually ran into a Ustlo'Tyna. Speaking with the Ustlo'Tyna I learned that the Council would never allow me entry into L'Tresk'ri'Vet. From there the Ustlo'Tyna told me to acquire passage to Jun'athel and seek out the Olath'Uss named Erraba Chel, the Twice Risen whom could guide me to her master The Grim of Jun'athel and from there I could Gain passage to L'Tresk'ri'Vet." Pausing for a moment to catch her breath she tried to think back on the conversations that she had to see if anyone had said that her going to L'Tresk'ri'Vet or to Jun'athel would cause any damage or problems. Bowing her head once again she waited to hear what the Justice thought of her entire adventure in trying to get to where she wanted to go. "No harm was meant in my search for a Servitor, again I had only hoped to acquire a worthy Servitor and then further a worthy Instructor to further increase my knowledge and power."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Know Abstract: (1d20+32)[34] - for information on Halja
Know Abstract: (1d20+32)[48] - for information on Quortek V'dre
Know Abstract: (1d20+32)[46] - for information on what a Witness is used for in this sort of hearing
Know Abstract: (1d20+32)[42] - for information on Talri
Know Abstract: (1d20+32)[34] - for information on who Halja's brother/husband is
Know Abstract: (1d20+32)[36] - for information on if marrying ones brother is normal for these guys
Know Abstract: (1d20+32)[46] - for information on Bhafa'fel
Know Abstract: (1d20+32)[52] - for information on the Pale Bride

[Mornings]

The cold of frost washed away the moisture from his skin. He could feel his eyes dry and lips begin to crack. A numbing haze. The familiar deafening crash, like waves upon shoreline. Static. Black. The figments of the visions produced from the pages of the tome once more played back. Strange. Without context. It was as if the nameless old man's rambling tales were wordlessly keeping on, even without him. An echo. Parts of it, small pieces, there lay some unreachable grains left scattered like bread-crumbs out across the vastness of the tale being spun before him. There was something beneath the surface, some lurking behemoth beneath the placid waves... and something compelled him. Ushering him forward, ever deeper. While still joined, they could feel it, but Miryks couldn't begin to imagine just what madness set the gears of this insane and broken world to turn still. Black.

He couldn't recall when. It was as if he had suddenly realized he'd closed his eyes, forever. A passing note ringing through his senses, like the recollection of straining to remain awake. The dim glimmer which had held the dark at bay was now gone. It was impossible to differentiate the dark about him, from the dark behind his own eyelids. He lay upon the indistinguishable ground, hands darting out to find hold upon the discarded books or the leg of the chair, but the reassuring jolt of something solid and real never came. It was as if it all were simply gone, swept away in the wave of darkness.

"Toilday the fifteenth, one-fifty-two in the afternoon... He was outside. The mist had rolled in. Avaricious' mind reminded him it was a strange sight for seaward breeze to carry the vapor so far inland from Dockway to the Alabaster; and it was thickening by the second. Merely a lightly passing wind; faint, but noticeable. It had felt... charged; alive. He looked about himself while standing upon his wagon, just finishing the movements in securing his wares and re-positioning the vehicle toward the front of the manor-proper. He turned to quickly be on his way, yet, something held him..."

The voice, a young woman's was familiar and real. Yet, the words didn't startle, it was as if they had always been there, always been reading... it was only now that his consciousness could perceive them. "You've only come this far? ...Dear boy, it lay much further still. How would you ever manage without me? Without the pieces, you'll never emerge from this dream... this nightmare; yet, I fear you've not the fortitude to bear it alone. So listen carefully..."

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

"She stood outside the window of the manor's living room in the black rain, slowly abating. The figure wore a fine noble, yet tattered, black dress. Her skin pale as death. The woman's face was obscured by a long cowl and the obstruction the large three-section window presented while it was slick from the dripping flim of inkor running along its surface did little to aid Avaricious's vision... But he saw her, just as she saw him. Her the sharp eye glinted with a violent sapphire light, and a smile."

"Within either hand she held a whirling void of terrible supernatural blackness. It was as if there were only pits of absence within those orbs, where the world, where all light collapsed... The sharp prongs of panic and alarm hammered through his mind as he jolted up from his chair, knocking over the seat as she raised her hands hurling the orb into the side of the manor. The umbral-dark of the twin-pockets of bleakness united into a single sphere of power. Then...... nothing."

---

༺ 𝓥𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖌 ༻

---

What... what had happened.... the pain, gods the pain. He couldn't see. It was all dark. He writhed, and struggled, his arms.. his limbs. Numb. Slowly... slowly he started to remember... yes... first....

Varag couldn't begin to place thought or name to the chaos of the convention of insanity in which he found himself. Black. Long-gone were the frozen expenses as light stole the world and replaced it with the frenzied echo of ghastly hallow visions playing out across some infinite dark before him.

"The explosion blew out the windows. Removed the entire side of the house. The terrible blast ripped the dinning room into pieces and jettisoned it out from the other half of the property. The solid stone walls. The reassuring girth of those wooden beams. The fine colored glass... they all become dreadful projectiles; and he caught a solid spray of the fragmented volley. It slashed he face and arms, ripping meaty flesh from his limbs as the explosive energy lifted him off his feet and threw him back into the far wall. Shuddering, he remembered the terrible gory spray as Andel caught the blast directly, standing just next to the Captain. The force rent him apart. Painted him and the others with a gritty crimson coat."

"Next... the darkness. The consuming night.... It engulfed the entire place. There was no escape. Terrible dark hands reached out and clawed at him, attempting to pull him into the dreadful void. Yet with a cry, and a wave of mental anguish, he fought the surge of umbral magic away, and the maddening darkness passed... The silence fell... The terrible silence."

"...Until the creak and groan of the burning of the last support beams rattled away the quiet. Then... Heidmarch Manor collapsed."

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

"Fire. Smoke. A tragic hazy orange mist began to pour into the obliterated mansion from outside. The black rain had ceased but left it's mark evident. The mist-like-smoke smelled foul... like burning flesh. Limbs... bloody chunks of meat and tendon lay scattered about in the remains of the chamber, both feminine and masculine... Bodies, pale and seemingly lifeless laid about Avaricious. He took a series of panicked gasping breaths, regaining his vision. He coughed. The dance of smoke and fire... it was a terrible and all-too-familiar sight that shook him still. A groan finally crawled out from somewhere else, affirming at least someone else had lived, though it was difficult to see through the thickening mist."

"Asiresh was upon his back... He felt a terrible surge of pain. He was cut. Torn and lacerated. Shards of glass protruded his chest and bow-arm. Bloody gashes ran across his face. He coughed once, hard. Breath returning to him. The terrible shock of the explosion stole the air from his lungs, as if the very air had ignited and burned out the very breath his lungs had stolen. The arcane-darkness had washed over him and passed. There was something within that bleakness, but his steeled will fended off the eerie-wave without incident. His vision was obscured by the roiling mist that had poured in."

"Orange-gold in color, and foul. He'd never before seen such a thing, which was quite a feat... for he had seen much. He pushed a large piece of wood off of himself before beginning to gauge his surroundings. Thankfully, his possessions laid at his side. The manor was destroyed. The terrible sight before him was tragic and unsettling. The body of the large Numerian, Viridi, which he did so dislike lay next to him. His face pale and staring off unblinking into the burning beams of the collapsed ceiling. The body the great bear-of-a-man had been so proud of was torn and thrashed, skin and muscle peeled back, bones shattered, lungs wheezing. His large chest still moving, but beginning to slow... and slow. Then stop. He could make out the form of Alica some ten feet away, with the same empty expression, yet she continued to breath, though it appeared as if he mind was somewhere else... far away."

"Still dazed, Asiresh watched in a stupor as the armored woman, his companion was ripped into the black by a thousand-thousand dead hands."

"Jeska fell into the void. The dark hands grasped her and ripped her free from the world, casting her tumbling through the darkness and the stars. The vast bleakness of the heavens above circled all about her, spiraling outward, out of control. She saw familiar faces, falling through the stars in her descent. The Numerian. The dark claws reached out from the bleak folds of the dark and slashed him to pieces, scattering his blue essence into infinity. As his ethic-form was torn asunder the dispersion of energy unleashed a terrible clap of force, and fragments of light were jettisoned outward. The hands fought, clenched and grasped at them, closing them within white-knuckled fists, as if mouths existed within their palms. The summoner, Alica, could be seen falling through the black as well, plummeting through the well of darkness."

"The Gray Maiden looked out, the last lights from the man's soul had all but faded. Then the long... infinitely-long, clawed hands came for her. They accosted her spiritual body, slashing and raking. Raining down blows that shredded through mind and spirit, ripping away pieces of herself. Tearing away memories and thoughts. Each strike through her body released a flash of light and flecks of brilliant blue fragments of energy, like glassy petals."

---

༺ 𝓛𝔬𝔦𝔪𝔦 ༻

---

The light which struck him did not just steal his sight, but sent him hurtling through existence as if he'd fallen through the physical world. Like a meteorite streaking across the heavens he spun in wild uncontrollable rotations. Through the veil of the material, there were no stars, no light... nothing. Only the encroaching cold of a darkness made infinite. The echoes of some shattering memory held suspended in the black recollected some forgotten awful moment from some place not here. The void became it, as if nothing else lay within.

"Long had it been since her return. Her return to the seaward breeze. Her return to the bustling marble streets. Her return, home... The challenges, the education and courses provided within the wizened chambers of Segenhall had whisked her away to far off lands all across the Inner Sea. She could hardly recognize herself at all. No longer the girl, the child, the impetuous daughter that had left this place. The years had been long, perhaps too long, and it was now as some incarnation of herself that she returned. The metamorphosis of her arcane studies had been complete. She now returned as this women time and trail had forged. As Magister Kestal'rah. Junior-Magister of Segenhall. With her arcane studies concluded and all titles, privileges, and rights afforded to her, it was more than simply holding some new status. She found her home a much different place. She was treated differently, held in a respectful regard when addressed. She was someone now, and the tall quiet man next to her, her guard and escort, re-enforced this strange new reality even further."

"Eris had grown, lived, and stood between two worlds. Though separated, in part, from the civility which surrounded her by her demonic heritage. Yet, she had overcome, and triumphed over many adversities that had risen. Still, within her mind, she still stood somewhere under a darkening sky of uncertainty. Many questions of her own personal identity were still left unanswered, and the persecution of old stigmas was always hot upon her heels. Here she stood upon the precipice of a night that would never end, shrouding her past and denying her future, while her other foot lay upon the edge of a glorious new day. A day she would seize and whose illumination would finally bring light to her buried history and a brilliant future she would forge for herself. With her own hands and wit. By all her cunning and knowledge, she would see that day, and end this ceaseless gloom that impeded her life. This eternal evening."


"Magnimar - Dockway; The Captain's club - 07:20 AM, Toilday the 15th"

"Sinofel stepped off the ship and directly in from of the Magister, cutting off Eris's path. Though his eye's were closed, he rotated his head about, as if surveying the area defensively. The tall lean man was always quite alert and she had learned to trust his judgement. Standing nearly six-and-a-half feet tall, the man towered over the short-statured Magister, though he was not exceptionally strong bodied. His timid nature often offset his size making for an unusual figure. He did not often open his eyes, which she had seen only once. Stark silver. Much like his long hair. His lineage was as mysterious as his nature and origins. He did not speak at length, and she had the growing suspicion that he was not a human at all, but perhaps a wind elemental holding a human guise. His unearthly abilities and grace had saved her more then once during their time together. He wore large richly embroidered fine cuts of silky cotton cloths over his adamant chain armor and carried with him little else, save for his massive bastard sword and a small number of possessions on his belt. She was certain the weapon was some long forgotten relic, for its blade was forged of some strange crystalline sky-metal alloy and appeared to change in color and hue when the master-duelist wielded the weapon. While he was a quiet, odd fellow, she trusted him, and the deft hand with which he fenced with the large, broad blade. He could strike with the weapon with the same staggering agility as a swashbuckling duelist, and still manage to protect her using the flat of the weapon as a shield for his mystical master. With a minor thought she reflected upon those encounters in the past... Indeed, she had never been struck while the man had been at her side."

"...and now they had returned to Magnimar together, after running what could have only been called a 'fool's' Errand' for the Lady of Mornings. They had traveled quite far only to retrieve a small silver pocket watch from the wreckage of some ruined ship far out from the coast. They found no bodies, no signs of damage, nothing to hint at what had sunk the vessel, which simply appeared to have been scuttled by its on accord. Still a fine ship. This strange timepiece, which was engraved with painfully detailed markings, changed as time passed. Yet the piece itself did not open, thus she had never seen the watch's face throughout their time in-transit with the object over the last six days. All of these detail were eerily accurate from the song they were given which had outlined their task. The traveling vessel which they had used to find the phantom wreck was owned by a friend the Magister had made some time ago, before Segenhall had called her away from the city. Captain Kantiki owned this ship. A name that struck fear in both the lawful and criminal citizenry that sailed the Inner Sea, or were natives to the City of Monuments."

"Captain Leruu Kantiki was a name well known in Magnimar, and even better known in her home district in Dockway. The ship carried her flag brazenly. They met no resistance or challenge, or even a tax or fee for anchoring the large ship in port. Captain Kantiki was a Corsair; a fierce but fair pirate who promoted trade and order in the once lawless district. Even the Civil War within the city had not shaken her iron-grip and dominating influence within the area, and thus trade continued to flourish. Free trade, untaxed by the Lords of the city, but run under the Captain's watchful eye. In Dockway she was 'the Lord', 'The Court', and the final say in any civil dispute between the traders and merchantmen. A very good friend to have, one she made by chance working another odd job for the Lady. The 'chance' encounter had led to their relationship, and now she had developed a measure of influence within Dockway; and she wasn't afraid to ask a favor when she needed it."

"Sinofel walked upon the harbor seemingly satisfied that there was no evident danger. The crewmen gave the Magister a pat on the back as she disembarked from the vessel. The crew of 'the White Lie' were a lively bunch. Rowdy and raucous as any seamen, but after spending a week with the boisterous bunch she found that she enjoyed their company, and they were a good and capable lot of men. Well traveled and hardy from their experience at sea. As they walked down the dock, the Captain's Dock, a few shouts and cheers ushered out from the crowded bustling portway. Leruu's men. The pair walked on for awhile, finally coming to 'The Captain's Club', perhaps the highest-class tavern in Dockway. The pair entered the exquisitely decorated establishment. The spacious first floor was packed with sailors and patrons at tables caught in drink and chatter, though the Captain was already waiting near the entrance. She smiled towards them, her pale face only made more pale by the make-up she favored. "Ah, I'd heard you'd finally returned. I'd started to question whether you'd charmed my crew and stolen my ship" She jeered playfully. Eris quickly responded in turn" "Come now, Captain, you know me better than that. I charmed your crew days ago, I just didn't want to do something so stupid as offend you by trying to steal one of your ships." "Well, welcome back. I imagine the job was a waste of time?" "Sinofel tossed her the watch from a belt pouch. The thing didn't appear to be exactly valuable... or delicate. The captain flipped it over once, then twice in hand before tossing it back to the man." "Figures. The Lady would send you off for some such device. I cannot distinguish if it's extraordinarily valuable, or a piece of trash. However..." "She paused, a cunning smirk painted on her face."

"My men told me of the vessel you managed to rummage through. An undamaged, sunken ship? A War-Galleon with no hold, outfitted with no guns, under the sea? I intend to salvage it." "She pat the Magister on the back seemingly satisfied. While she had returned with nothing to speak of and provided nothing for the favor of the lent men and ship, the information she returned with appeared to be more then enough in terms of compensation." "The Lady's little quests have never been a waste of time, they're usually just very hard to figure out the significance of. Anyway, you're welcome to the ship, but if you need help trying to raise it, I'd be glad to help you. I've been trying to figure out why it sank, but I didn't have the chance to properly study it." "Indeed. You always do turn up such odd things, let me know if you require my assistance again, love." "The pale captain turned away but still looked over her shoulder as she spoke" "I won't delay you any further Magister. It was a pleasure."

"I'll be off. See you later, Captain." "Sinofel looked to Eris with a somewhat confused look on his face, he paused as if he were attempting to search for the right words. His voice was low and timid, just barely audible over the pleasant music and chatter. "...Raise a ship, Ma'am?" If there was anyone in Dockway with the resources to revive a sunken warship that lay awaiting off a 4 day sail from the coast, it was that women." "There are ways. Sufficiently powerful magic could raise the ship or even part the ocean. Or perhaps a lot of zombies. Giving them the orders would be difficult, but they could probably just haul the ship back to land. As far as I could tell, there was no reason the ship should've sunk to begin with though, so it's probably better to raise it since it should be sea-worthy once all the water has been bailed out." "They left the tavern and stepped into the Bazaar of Sails, looking to acquire a carriage ride up to the Alabaster District. There was a women who wanted a watch..."

---

༺ 𝓜𝔦𝔯𝓎𝓴𝔰 ༻

---

"The months had been long, longer still the nights upon the stone floors. She had fought with all her might and vigor in Serpent's Run timing her arrival perfectly with the Steel Summit. Knowing full well many would be attending the matches within the Colosseum, scouting for talent and those they could use when then tournament began. She had no intention of being stuck within the Dawn Crucible, only to be knocked out, or worse; killed during the brutal games to win a spot. Far from home, in the land she had only heard of, fighting within the massive arena of marble and stone. Her blade sung out in refusal of the fate that her blood had provided. She killed and bled before five thousand calculating souls, judging and being judged by no merit other than her sword arm. Offers came. Often and readily. She denied them all. The other fighters on the run, envious and bitter of her refusal to take a patron shunned her."

"The Run was not enough, she needed to find a name, a patron worth her efforts... and so she wandered. Sleeping where sleep would find her, fighting where there was sport to be had. Upon the streets, or the back allies of Washer's Row with cruel-faced men offering blood-stained gold, and the private matches beneath the old taverns in Dockway. She grew and began to understand the city, understand all the things the books left out. The hardships ironed her skills and her body. That prowess began to make a name for herself. By the same swordsmanship she had been taught, her profession, her new-found purpose. The rage and grief that had brought her to this place carried her onward. Compelled her to prove something to herself that she darned not even muse in silence. Until, the Summit was only a month away. The despair begun to settle-in at the realization that she had still yet to find a patron to sponsor her entry into the contest. With so little time left, hope was quickly beginning to fade. Then a women approached her. She could hardly believe it. The Knight of Luminescence, Lady D'Aritel had come herself to accept the young women's gambit into the Summit. Readily. Gladly. She accepted, and thus was taken under the care of the most powerful family within the Inner Sea."

"...A wayward sword."

"She had been cleaned, clothed, housed and fed under the care of the D'Aritel name. Given status and position within the City Guard, Lieutenant Vorns directly served Lady D'Aritel. Nadia primarily escorted the Steel Princess on her duties. Her job within the city as a guardian and protector of the people, was not as a patrolman upon the city streets, but as a House Warden. An elite guardman assigned within the House of Lords during hours of court; which is where Lady D'Aritel mostly found herself at work. The Lieutenant was in command of four other Wardens. Guardsmen appointed under her, most having been previously Wards of the House of Lords prior to their appointment. They were a young but dependable bunch of young men and women. The Lieutenant remembered their names well; Lissa Edell. P'trell Wellford. Melkip Asland. Kreplin Ausford."

"It was the first time she had been responsible for others lives and duties. The position had taken some adjustment. Yet it also provided her great opportunities to continue to train for the Summit which was now only days away. The Dawn Crucible would begin tomorrow. So much had changed within four weeks. Her mind still struggled to recognize herself each morning when she rose from her rest. She possessed her own property within the Alabaster District by the grace of House D'Aritel. She was someone now. Her name, her claim, had been made. The Pathfinder Society seemed so small and insignificant now. She armed herself and prepared for duty. As a Warden of the House, she had late mornings and long nights. Being that the Court did not even open to the public til second bell, mornings were quiet and the evenings dragged on. Still, she was to meet Lady D'Aritel in Starsilver Plaza before duty as-per-the-norm. Along with her other guardsmen. She had expected another slow day."

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

"Starsilver Plaza; Magnimar - 12:25 PM, Toilday the 15th"

"...Eris had not expected the Lady's song to issue such a panic. The screams. The chaos. Men trampled over one another in their attempt to flee the Plaza. Sinofel shoved men aside, and issued forth a few short smacks and pokes with his sheathed sword keeping the panicked crowd from getting to close to his master. He looked behind himself, and gestured towards the steps of the Triodea. Using his sheathed weapon he 'cut' a path for the pair to traverse through the mob."

"They finally reached the steps of the theatre, looking out upon the frenzied mass, and Lady Alice's declaration. The duo moved up the stairs and opened the large marble doors which the songstress had vanished into only moments before, stepping into the darkness."

"It took some time for the Magister's eyes to adjust. The theatre was almost perfectly dark, save for a single overhanging crystal suspended from the ceiling which cast a dim purple light that seemed to distort her vision. Things seemed, blurred. As if a 'double-vision' was impaired upon her sight. It made it difficult to distinguish what was and what wasn't within the chamber. She found the interior of the theatre, even its arrangement, different with each visit. After a moment, she pin-pointed the Lady. The woman sat some twenty feet suspended in the air. Chaired in her large cushioned throne tilted awkwardly at a forty-five degree angle above, accompanied by a fine floating table and diningware. The Lady held an exceptional porcelain cup and dish in either hand, drinking, what the Magister could only assume was tea. Around herself a strange, otherworldly ballad of figures danced in union. With her vision as impaired as it was, she could not tell how many of them pranced through the air in an unerring arrangements. The eerie featureless things floated about like ghosts, cloaked in black draping cloaks and veils that masked would-be faces. Yet they each seemed to possess the same head of hallmarked long and silvered hair. Hair much like the Lady's... and Sinofel. The connection had never crossed her mind, though she had never actually been capable of seeing the Lady's 'attendants' either."

"The Lady took a sip from her lavish cup. The dizzying ballad of shadowy-dancers continued, circling about her. Beholding the strange illusion, it almost appeared like a march of living dolls, or perhaps some nightmarish child's carousel. She smiled. "My, oh my. My goodness. Hail. You've returned! Thusly must I assume you've found 'the ship that lay perfectly drowned' " Sinofel nodded meekly, obviously infatuated with the Lady and responding in turn, unthinkingly. She threw the cup and dish to either side of her. The objects vanished as if they fell through some hole or invisible void as she clapped her hands excitedly. "Yes, yes. Hurray. The time-piece, if you would?" Sinofel tossed her the silver watch, which only traveled five feet before stopping. Suspended in the air, floating to the Lady, the curious thing dropped within her soft palm. Looking over the device incredulously as if examining for something particular, she touched the device once or twice, then hit the button at the top, popping open the watch. A sonic burst. A horrid cry carrying with it the sound of some terrible wailing exploded through the theater, shattering the dishes on her table, and throwing Eris and Sinofel to the ground. The Lady quickly closed the object."

"Ah, yes. That's the one!" She lifted up her arms and did a short jolly jig, before proceeding to throw the watch over her shoulder casting it off like a piece of trash. While it traveled through the dark, it seemed to vanish as well. Another object mysteriously removed. She smiled clapping her hands together. "Well done. Well done. You've done it again! Even mother would be proud, and that wolf would sing!"

"The pair rose from the floor. Sinofel looked to Eris for some sort of translation... A measure of clarification he was evidently lacking. She just shrugged in response. The Swordmaster did not take the Lady's words lightly. All she seemed to voice was true, and not understanding her messages was something he quickly found to be a thing he feared above all else. Eris too did not like finding uncertainty while dealing with the women. She had found that the Lady of Morning was actually incredibly lethargic, doing very little like speaking without a purpose. Thus she could not simply waive her words away as a simple, nor accept an ambiguous 'congratulations'. Sinofel spoke softly, briefly. The complete opposite of the Lady, yet that seemed to add weight to his words. A certain value that was evident when she listened to what little he found the courage to utter. A point the Magister had made careful note of; justifying bringing the man with her whenever she visited. "...Necessary?" The Lady tilted her head to the right, her silver hair running to one side. "The chaos you mean?" He nodded. She laughed at the question."

"Oh, you silly. Oh, you goose. Oh, you fool. I've no control how the people will act. I merely sing as I sing, and I gave them nothing less then what they asked. Did I not? Or did I?" She paused. "Well, in any case. On to other matters. Compensation. You've completed my task, but gold is so boring.... What is one to do?" She put her thin chin in her palm and leaned to one side, tilting her large chair over to the left, still awkwardly suspended in the air. "Ah, perhaps a trade. Something worth your time of course. Something for something, and even better, I shall lend you my aid." She gestured playfully with her hand as if it was some great monstrous claw. "Compensation would mean nothing if you'd be rent of your limbs and left as fodder now, wouldn't it? And even more vexing if mother took you home. Unacceptable." At this point, she appeared to just be talking to herself. Sinofel looked to Eris again, another shrug. He cleared his throat. "...Okay" His words seemed to disrupt her personal monologue, because she was still talking when the Swordmaster interrupted. "..Yes, yes. I Know. It would be shameful. No, of course not. Ha, yes, I'd enjoy the look on her face........ GREAT! That's wonderful. I'm glad you agree to my terms of payment. Perfectly fair. Yes, fair." She beamed at the pair, smiling, seeming very satisfied. "...But now, what would be worth that... Equal value.. Equal value... Yes. Fair.... No, not that. Maybe.... Oh! That is a great idea, but it's pretty..."

"The Lady sighed, her shoulder's visibly slumping. "Very well, very well... Yes..fair. " She lifted up a hand and slid off one of her many, many fine silver gleaming bands. She lifted it up to the light, looking at it one last time before tossing it over to the pair. Sinofel attempted to catch it, but the double image of the object deceived him, grasping the illusion and having the band bounce off his arm and into Eris. The Magister quickly recovered the item. Knowledge of the object flooded into her mind like a wave of energy and weight surging in her chest. It did not come from the item, but simply manifested within her consciousness as if she always knew the thing."

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

"Chaos in the The Plaza; Magnimar - 12:30 PM, Toilday the 15th"

"It was maddness. The Lieutenant did not expect The Lady of Morning held such influence to throw an entire mob into a panicked frenzy with one apocalyptic song. She had never seen her perform before, but this surely painted the women in a new light. Lady Alice barked out commands, and as more guards, and her own House Wards reported in, the chaos was contained and routed."

"Men, women and children lay broken and trampled along with many merchant's wares and stalls. A number of people had died amid the commotion. They directed people around the center of the Plaza now, policing the scene and providing aid to the wounded as the clerics filtered in making their way from body to body, inspecting to see who was still among the living. It was horrible. All this over some song. The Lady should have been held responsible, for truly this needless destruction was undoubtedly a crime. Yet she knew she could not be charged with anything. She did not move to incite the riot, the panic that ensued was born of the citizens zealous belief in her words. There was little that could be done about that."

"Other guardsmen began populating the Plaza, giving her sharp salutes as they made their way by. Lady D'Aritel signaled to the Wardens. They fell in step with her as she made her way to the House of Lords now that the situation had been resolved. They did have a job to do after all, and she knew Lady D'Aritel had much paperwork and documents waiting for her before the court could even resume session, not to mention all of the records to be filed over damages this incident has caused. The claims of property loss that would inevitably be flooding in this very evening were no laughing matter. It would be a very... very long night. A night made made all the longer because of the Lady of Morning. Nadia clenched her jaw in controlled but evident frustration. The lives and property damaged over a single song and five minutes of mayhem was remarkable. Surely this could not be allowed to continue or repeat. She was certain there would be a hearing over the matter. Some new law enforced to keep the Lady in-check. They circled around the large building. It was still early. They could not open the main doors just yet, which faced Starsliver Plaza. Walking through the wonderful marble pathways lined with trees and brightly colored flowery plants, the massive hundred-and-twenty foot wide pool with a fountain in its center made the crowning-piece of the Courtyard of Sovereigns. This side of the building was separated from the rest of the court-building. The House of Sovereigns."

"Nadia looked up at the wonderful white dome of the building's uppermost crown. A serviceman skillfully wove through the marble pillars that supported the spherical ceiling and housed its massive bronze bell. He secured a piton and rope in place as he worked, performing his regular service on the sound piece. His cloths were dusty and dirtied like a chimney-sweep, yet he wore thick brown garbs, a service-vest and a rather fashionable hat. Which was very likely the most expensive garb he owned. He waved below. The Lieutenant returned the greeting with a short gesture, not trying to appear unprofessional while in formation with the Wards and Lady Alice at the head. His name was Markus. That was about all she knew of the machinist. That, and that he held favor with the D'Aritel's for reasons unknown. However, he was not an uncommon sight on the House proper."

"They made their way to the large foyer and the massive steel doors of the House of Sovereigns. Lady Alice removed a key from her belt and unlocked the doors. Two guards off-set themselves to the sides watching the rear as they opened the doors. After the others entered, both entered swiftly behind then secured the doors once again."

"The Lieutenant and the Wards began their duties immediately without sparing careless words or thought. It had become a regimen that was very familiar. They moved through the lushly carpeted burgundy halls, setting the lights which cast a sobering illumination through the building. Fine ornamentation, statues of various judges and figures of merit flanked the passages. Nadia finally made her way to the filing office where, as expected, she found Lady Alice at a dark hazelwood desk littered with stacks and stacks of documents of all manner of sizes and states. Alice sat squarely with the back of her chair. Small-framed circular glasses sat upon her face and a quill was hurriedly at work in hand. The woman looked so refined and educated. Nadia stood in the door unable to help but stare until her Lady's quill stopped moving and her gaze rose to the door. Startled back in place, the Lieutenant gave her reporting statement and notice that their duties had been completed. Alice nodded, "Very good. Relieve your men. You're dismissed. Report back for duty prior to second bell." Nodding her affirmation, the Lieutenant closed the door as she left. The Wards usually did not leave the building after their initial duties were done, as it quickly became a choir. They would need to resecure the building each time the doors were unlocked, and there was not much that could be done within the time it would take to leave and return. And so, they usually found themselves in their off time relaxing in the Hall of Commons. A lavish room where Lords and representatives of the court usually frequented. The chamber utilized to draft many of policies scheduled for presentation to the House."

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

Always enchanted by the vision of beauty that was the Lady of Mornings, Her mind couldn't help but wander for a moment, wishing she could try to create a more personal relationship with the Lady whose name she didn't even know. Still, Eris knew that Sinofel was infatuated with her as well, and it was difficult to get him to speak as it was, so she regretfully allowed him to handle most of the exchange, glad that he was opening up at least a little; even if it meant she lost the chance to talk to the Lady. When she caught the braid, however, she gasped. "Lady! This is...amazing!" Holding the braid up to her chest, she looked up toward her benefactor happily," "I'll treasure this, thank you."

The Triodea; Magnimar - 1:10 PM, Toilday the 15th

"Sinofel sat upon one of the theatre chairs waiting for The Lady to finish her monologue with... herself. He looked to his master who laid out across an aisle of seats, she played with the neat band... so many ideas coming to mind. It had been a week at sea, for a bracelet. His face was placid but suggested he was not convinced despite the look of satisfaction plastered across the Magister's visage. The world of magic was unusual to be sure. He could only assume that whatever it was that had been bestowed upon them, it was worth far more than it appeared. The Magister smiled as she spun the brace on her wrist before producing her journal and scribing in a series of notes before her gaze was once again drawn up towards the Lady. A thought came to her mind, as her eyes rested on the gaudily ornamentation she wore. All those jewels and bracelets. Her unusual tiara. She wondered just how much of it was for show and how much was actually functional. What if it was all functional.... a walking magical arsenal? It was a frightful thought. As if on cue, the Lady turned to them both, still floating in her chair." "Yes, perhaps then she'll understand... No. That is an interesting thought. Hm, Nelrin too? Haha, quite the party."

"She looked down at them both. "Oh my, you're still here. You needn't wait for me. Just return before Sr'halla brings her lightning if you wish to keep your limbs." She turned away and continued her conversation, beginning to pluck on her mandolin. The dance had changed a number of times, but still continued. The indistinguishable number of shadowy smoke-like dancers circling about her, changing form into something beastly and inhuman. Sinofel looked to his master again with a very obvious look of concern, evidently distressed. "...Worried." Eris nodded in agreement, this was a particularly distressing visit to the Triodea. Nevermind whatever a 'Sr'Halla' was. They both decided the safest thing to do was remain within it's walls, and so they did..."

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

"The Hall of Commons; Magnimar - 1:58 PM, Toilday the 15th"

"They had begun their preparations some fifteen minutes ago when the weather began to turn. The sky had darkened as they opened the curtains and began preparing the House for opening during Public Hours. First... the darkening mist roiled in. It swept through the streets so quickly it was as if it was produced by some unnatural means. Then.. the rain. The black inkor fell from the sky painting the white marble streets sleek with the ebon stuff. The Lieutenant immediately ran to call for Lady Alice. She found her in her office donning her weapon once again. The Steel Princess pat her officer on the shoulder. "Secure the building. Reinforce the doors. We are under attack." Vorns ran through the building shouting orders to her men. They hastily began setting down the heavy adamant beams that fastened the doors in place to their heavy frames. The doors would undoubtedly be destroyed before they were ever opened externally. This was perhaps the most secure location they could be. As memory served, she had seen High-Lord D'Aritel, Lord of Magnimar enter the building some twenty minutes ago to prepare for a Court of the High-Council which had been scheduled for later this very evening. They could not afford to let this building fall. The House Wards took up defensive positions throughout the courthouse and establishing their patrol routes. At her command, Lissa took patrol of the Central Hall within the House of Sovereigns, she was the best trained of her men, and the rifle she carried would make for a very good alarm if they were attacked from their rear."

"They stood readied and braced within, with enough ammunition and previsions to last a number of weeks before needing to begin rationing. Lady D'Aritel opened the central door to the Court of High Lords, where Lord D'Aritel sat. His crimson robes were as bold and proud as the man before her. Lieutenant Vorns had never seen the High-Lord in person before. His figure was powerful and awe-inspiring. His grey hair and beard were finely kept, and a golden crown lay securely resting upon his brow. They both bowed once, before Alice began to speak. "The city is under siege. The same forces Captain Heidmarch mentioned, it appears. We're prepared, they will be repelled." He sternly nodded once and issued no response. His steely gaze was unshakable. Unquestionable. Dominating. She could see where Lady Alice gained many of her own characteristic personality traits. They both turned and left the chamber, securing the door behind them. Alice grabbed Nadia by her collar and pulled the Lieutenant a few inches from her face, speaking slowly and clearly. "This... door. Does not open again. Do you understand." She nodded and the women released her. She hadn't noticed that she had been removed from the ground until her boots had returned to the tile of the floor once again."

"A sudden explosive force rocked the building. Windows exploded inwards. Shards of glass flew scattered about. The thick unnatural mist began to pour into the interior of the court. Dark shapes began to rise, stepping forth as if carried through the thick miasma. Living shadows..."

[Part 4]

[Mornings]

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༺ 𝓜𝔦𝔯𝓎𝓴𝔰 ༻

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"The Triodea; Magnimar - 1:58 PM, Toilday the 15th"

"They were outside...."

"The Lady of Morning spun in circles with her arms thrown out wide with her face to the sky laughing madly. The black rain befouled her fine white cloths. Her bare feet padded through the puddles of slick inkor. The pair looked on at the mad spectacle, speechless."

"Finally, the mad woman tired and plopped down into her animated chair which moved curiously quick to catch her. Her white cloths appeared to become clean and renewed as the dark blotches bled away and a wide white parasol moved to float above her to shield from the blighted rain. An explosive roar erupted from the sky somewhere in the distance. A cry like thunder. Visible wave of force crashed down from the sky into the city. All glass and fragile materials exploded in an instant. The fine stained-glass windows of The Triodea ruptured behind them, releasing a show of sharp flakes of glass. The very ground seemed to tremble beneath the power of the bellowing roar. The sky was dark and ruined. The rain had ceased just as quickly as it had begun, and a thick mist covered everything in a dark shade. The Lady took out her mandolin and begun to pluck strings, forming pieces of a melody. "Prepared were we. Knowing was I. Shrouded. Unshrouded. Seen. Unseen. Steel in hands before their summit. All gathered to witness her words... All gathered to bathe in her tears. Revisited times countless by fleeting dream and memory."

"She stopped plucking strings, and her half-song. She smiled at the pair. "Have you noticed yet? As I've said. They've come, but without the element of surprise. For all have gathered in preparation for battle. Though of a different sort. Still, the guard has rallied." Her ambiguous nonsensical ceaseless talk finally began to makes sense... They were under attack. Just as she had foretold. Eris glanced about. It was difficult to see in the mist, but she could make out men and women of the City Guard assembling and armed about the Plaza already, quickly moving towards the district's Main Gate. They knew? They were waiting.... and that last bit. The Lady was right. Thousands upon thousands of warriors from all over the Inner Sea had gathered here for the Steel Summit, warriors and knights. The best warriors of the realm gathered in once place for the competition which began tomorrow. If there was ever a good day to be attacked, surly this was it."

"The sound of battle could be heard far away in the direction of the Main Gate. "...and so we begin. ...and down we go. To meet again, to dance alone." Sinofel stepped in front of Eris. They stood upon the steps of The Triodea. Someone was coming. The sound of heavy footsteps, armor and steel. They were in a dead sprint....someone. Sinofel lowered his hand to the massive ebon hilt of his weapon preparing to draw, a stern focus forming in his eyes."

"A shadowy figure began to form. Something emerging from the black mist. It was a hooded figure, eyes of pale blue light. A haunting apparition that floated amid the plaza before slowly making its approach. The sound of hammering steel steps still came thundering on til a figure burst from the hazy cloud. She came flying out of the miasma, mid-air and mid-strike. Her broad-bladed sword came crashing down on the thing with a thunderous swing that cleaved the eerie creature in twain. Her blade embedded itself into the ground with a massive echoing CRACK which rang out throughout the Plaza. Ripping the blade from the stone with a feral prying motion she continued her advance. The warrior was covered in black inkor and fresh blood. A delightful expression upon her face, caught somewhere between ecstasy and battle frenzy. Captain Noir Halden menacingly marched up the marble steps of the theatre. "Out of my way.... I await the man foolish enough to challenge me." Sinofel stepped out of the way, scooting Eris with him as he went. Even he knew Venture Captain Haldan, but more importantly, he knew what crazy looked like, and the wide-eyed smile upon her bloodied face was surely it."

"Creatures began to emerge from the mist. Not just shadows but strange beasts as well. They clawed out from the shadowy substance, as if summoned. The Magister could feel a strange magnetic force in the back of her mind. With a small amount of focus she could feel it. Her ears rang and the pressure about her was evidence enough. It was as if temporarily the boundary between planes had been weakened, or perhaps sundered... "The Triodea will not be safe for much longer, shall we?" The Lady of Mornings began to move down the stairs, carried by her large animated chair. The vision of the creatures being spawned forth in great number seemed to hold little attention in the Lady's mind. The sound of battle was in full roar now within the Plaza. Warriors and creatures fought in a wild skirmish. They stayed close to the Lady, moving by seemingly unnoticed by man or beast. The creatures began to surge forth from the direction of the main gate in a rush. In a chaotic blitz, great creatures burst free from the haze with great reaping scythes of bone and metal, cutting down fully armored men like stalks of wheat. Then the slain began to stir, as nightmarish horrors ripped and tore their way out from the hunks of mutilated gore. Writhing terrors began to fill the Plaza. Men begun to retreat from the direction of the Main Gate. Even with the cover of the Lady's illusion it was not safe. It was all they could do to quickly retreat through the miasma, until they were abruptly stopped by a foreign fighter they had startled. She glared back at them defensively. A Minkaian woman garbed in strange cloths and an even stranger curved sword, but the Swordmaster couldn't mistake the Wolf of Osogen."

"From behind the Minkai warrior a figure emerged, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her reason to ease her weapon down. "Magister Kestal'rah? is that you?" The knight stepped forth from the mist. Eris couldn't help but sign in relief. It was Roland. He laughed briefly. "Gods, I was looking everywhere for you. They said you got back from port but you never reported back. I'm glad I've found you. We're behind, but we've still time. The House of Lords is under attack from within. The High-Lord is being evacuated as we speak, but we must make for Heidmarch Manor. There is matters even more important then that to tend to, but we'll aid them if we can." He pointed behind him. A brief wind blew the screen of smog aside, and the view of a number of assembled men and women came into view."

"I've gathered Rostland's regiment here. They will hold back the enemy if the gate falls. That should buy us the time we need." "The mist began to push away even more, revealing the full regiment. She couldn't make out everyone, but she could swear she saw Leona Aldori within their number. An Aldori Sword Lord, and the 4th Master of Fire. Surly there could be no better defense to mount against this attack. Leona's soldiers were the most elite fighters in Rostland's military. After the disappearance of her mentor, the hero of Bravoy, Dalmon E'france, Leona had inherited his legacy and position. While Eris trusted Sinofel's skills, even she wasn't sure how the Swordmaster would compare to the successor of E'france. As far as she knew, this was the first time her unit had even been deployed outside of the country outside of a time of war. It was by the might of those gathered here that the Aldori continued to maintain their rule within the country. They would not be easily defeated."

"The Lady of Morning rose from her chair. "This is were we part for now, I suppose. We'll meet again amid the flowers and dead." She spun once with her parasol in hand before skipping off into the mist, vanishing like an apparition. Her chair was nowhere to be found. Roland watched her leave, then turned to the pair. "She's an odd-bird, but you've always managed to find strange company, i'll give you that... Now lets be off." They charged ahead out of the plaza as the sounds intensified around them. It would take some time to reach the manor."

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

"The Courtyard of Sovereigns ; Magnimar - 2:10 PM, Toilday the 15th"

"The air was lit aflame. Bolts of red lighting raced across the sky. The mist was charged with a whipping golden-orange energy. The dark had faded as quickly as it had come, and a churning maelstrom opened above the city. A terrible storm. The House of Lords was ensnared in combat. Lady Alice and the House Wards defended the Chamber which the High-Lord was secured, yet, she had grabbed her and told her to leave. That she was to report to Sir Roland and defend the Heidmarch Manor. Lady D'Aritel did not explain what was so critical about the Pathfinders now of all times. Even so, she obeyed her orders. Before she left Lady Alice gave her a ring, insurance that she would not fail; and so, she fled The House, fighting her way through the Courtyard which was quickly flooding-over with twisted blighted creatures. The Lieutenant could not begin to guess why Heidmarch weighed more heavily then the safety of the High-Lord, Lady Alice's own father, but that made her choice weigh all the more heavily."

"She slashed through the animated remains of a guardsmen as the sky began to crack and split. Bolts of crimson light illuminating the mist covered world. Nadia suddenly found another reason to get clear of the open ground that was the courtyard as she looked into the sky in awe. The terrifying titan-like creature which descended from the heavens like some deity dispatched from the heavens was enough to give her pause. Whirling golden light and energy cycling about as it stretched out its massive golden wings and issued forth a terrible cry that shook the very earth. A visible wave of sonic force sent her and everything else to the ground as sharp cracks raced down the stone sides of the buildings flanking her. Covering her face with one arm, it emerged from the clouds fully, unleashing a burst of illumination upon the shrouded city so intense it was easily mistaken for sunlight."

Lieutenant Vorns couldn't afford to hesitate any longer. She pushed herself off from the ground while sheathing her weapon. She ran. She ran and ran, as hard as her legs would take her. What ungodly creature loomed above. What nightmare was this day without sun. What awaited her at Heidmarch Manor... How could they hope to defeat something like that? Even with Lady D'Aritel, how could they rebuke a titan. She hoped beyond hope answers laid at the Manor.

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"The Plaza; Magnimar - 02:08 PM, Toilday the 15th"

"A creature leapt forth from the mist. It was a strange thing. Some shadowy-armored entity with frightful long bladed arms. It lashed out at Roland and Eris. CLANG-PING. The surprise assault was thwarted as quickly as it begun. The strange thin curved blade of the Wolf of Osogen lashed out with unnerving speed. Yet, Sinofel drew his blade, lashing out with super-human speed; blocking the attack with the flat of his blade, before unleashing a flourishing cut and spinning the blade over in hand during the strike, neatly re-sheathing the blade with the motion. The brief pause between the moments his blade returned to its scabbard brought a small sonic keening wail and a gust of wind tracing the path the blade had taken. With a half second delay, the the creature shuddered and fell in two. Black inkor spewed about, identical to the rain which had just halted only moments ago." "...Careful" "...Mind your surroundings, my lord."

"They spoke at the same time, pausing, then looking at each other awkwardly. They could have been related, though the Wolf of Osogen's eyes burned with an otherworldly glow, and her deathly pale skin could not have been human. Though truthfully it was impossible to tell just from looking. Roland breathed with a sign of relief, genuinely caught off-guard though his hand had managed to half-draw his sword within the brief time he had to realize the attack. "Hah. Thank you Tai... and you too Swordmaster. I don't remember you being that swift last we sparred." Sinofel shrugged, not wanting to insult the man. "Got better." Roland coughed. Perhaps blocking with a drawn weapon or shield in such a time would have made the man's words more believable, but employing his undrawn weapon to shield his master, riposte, and sheath his sword again in a single motion was ridiculous even in his book. The man had obviously been holding back on him. The women, 'Tai', sheathed her blade and turned away to join into the formation from Rosland. "...Yes, well. Let us get going, we can speak while we run. We've little time to dally." Milling through the formation of soldiers to defend them from any more unexpected attacks, they begun to increase their pace until finally reaching a full sprint towards Heidmarch Manor."

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"The Courtyard of Sovereigns ; Magnimar - 02:10 PM, Toilday the 15th"

"Roland ran quickly even with his armor, but it was Sinofel in the lead. Seeming to move with an effortless and blinding speed. It was evident the Swordmaster was having difficulty slowing himself to match the pace of Roland and his master, while frequently looking over his shoulder to make sure he did not outpace them completely. "Gods, you're fast. Take point, Swordmaster. Magister Kestal'rah, hold our left flank." They took up positions, forming a wedge formation as they ran. "The enemy you asked about...Gaaah!" They all stopped abruptly as the sky erupted in light. The force from colossal winged titan emerging from the whirling golden maelstrom of clouds made the air quake and shiver. The supermassive creature was easily larger than the city. From their vantage point into the storm some blazing sphere like an immense neutron star carried upon the behemoth's back came into view, revealing the source of the golden light. A bellowing cry sent them blinded and shaken to the ground. The Lord of Common's sharply pointed an unsteady finger up at the great abomination. "That! By the Gods, that is the enemy!" Roland rose from the ground as Sinofel swiftly pulled the Alabaster Magister from the cold stone." "Quickly. Our time has long expired! We must make it to the Manor in time, we must!"

"They ran on as another otherworldly pulse released from the titan's cry, charging the air. The air about them took on a golden hue and made their skin tingle. Eris could feel it. The Veil between all things, the very bonds between the phases of reality weaken, as if damaged. It was an unsettling and strange sensation, alien to her. It begun to twist and spin within her breast, like a knot. An unnatural fire. A burning. It made her lightheaded and dazed, but she pressed forward. If the answers... or perhaps the solution to that thing in the sky lay somewhere in the Pathfinder's grimy little hands' she could not ignore it."

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"Heidmarch Manor ; Magnimar - 02:20 PM, Toilday the 15th"

"They arrived upon the Manor's grounds panting and out of breath, save for the Swordmaster who seemed to be undaunted by the marathon sprint. Roland looked up, seeing the House Warden reach the gate to the property just behind them. He attempted to speak out, gasping for air "Hah... Ha... Lieutenant, here! Lady D'Aritel told you the... situation? You're with me and the Magister." He coughed, pointing backward behind them to the sky and the massive entity that loomed within the cyclonic rift. Bolts of red lightning rained down decimating the city. "We're.... We're... Gonna stop that...Ha...Ha..." He took a deep breath, hunched over trying to regain his baring. "The Pathfinder's finally bit off more then they could chew. We're here to clean up. With me!" He drew his sword, gripping it tightly with both hands, unsure of what to expect. They moved forward onto the manor grounds."

"Nadia smiled weakly as Roland spoke. Clearly bravado, but it was bravado that she could get behind. "Of course we are sir. Who else would be insane enough to try?" His comment about the Pathfinders drew a small laugh from her." "Doesn't take much to overwhelm them, from what I've seen. A stray cat, maybe?"

"When they stepped onto the Manor proper an unsettling silence held them, broken only by the crack of burning timber from the collapsed manor. "...More than a cat." The stench of burning flesh and wood filled the air. Sir Roland stood deathly still, the blood draining from his face. He swayed slightly, catching himself in his stupor. The Manor... the Manor, was gone! Obliterated. The once beautiful gardens and shrubberies now lay blasted and burning. Light flickered and twisted, casting miserable shadows. He ran forward, running to the building screaming out, tears in his eyes. He was late... far too late. "GODDAMIT! SHEILA! SHEILA! LUKA!? CAN YOU HEAR ME!?" Bolting forward and leaping over the small pond he charged up the stairs building momentum as he went, until finally throwing himself through the crushed remains of the flaming wooden door."

"The Lieutenant stuck close on Roland's heels, not wanting him to get too far ahead. Her mind raced. What could have done this? For all her disdain, the Pathfinders were an able group in her mind. Anything that could have utterly destroyed this place had to be powerful. A threat to the entire city. This night was going to end badly for a lot of people. That much she was certain."

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༺ 𝓡𝔢𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔞 ༻

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"Heidmarch Manor ; Magnimar - 02:20 PM, Toilday the 15th"

"The phantom-figure of the faceless horned devil watched the old man rise from the ground unassisted. It was an impressive feat for the man's broken old body to manage to resist the effects of the toxic bile that bled from his bloody wounds. Of course he knew that the old man would not be able to maintain this resilience for much longer, but at least for a short while he would be able to move until the haggard hunter removed the taint from his blood himself."

"The old devil chuckled, seemingly quite amused." "Yes...Yeeesss..... A perfect plan. The fool Grun'melesh, did not expect me to take a host from those among his liberators, or he would not have rewarded you with those Ebon Petals. We would often 'play' for the Renor'anon. Those 'flowers'. Find them. Take them! Take their power... and quickly. Before you are crushed and gored within this failing structure. Then... begin your hunt. For all with a soul, or spirit bound to their bones are prey now, and my patience wanes as my hunger grows..."

"As Asiresh found his footing Nelrin'Fel's voice echoed in his mind... A dark hunger. He could understand that bloodlust, but now he had other priorities before him. He had to get those flowers before the others found them. A voice called out from his side through the smoke. The Magister had circled about the manor, entering through a blown out wall in the rear. "If you're strong enough, help me get these others out of here, this place doesn't have long left! How many of you were in here?!" Silently the old hunter ignored her as the pain of house gnarled wounds resurfaced, but her voice rang out once more. "Is anyone else here?!" There's no more ignoring this wench. He turned to speak to the newly arrived Magister." "There may be some more in what's left of the dining room but I have more pressing matters to attend to for the moment. I must look for the Captain's daughter to make sure she is safe. She is my main concern as of right now, so please if you would step aside so I may pass."

"Growling at the old man and his callousness Eris made an irritated fist. Resisting the urge to call him out as he passed, she resolved there were more pressing concerns, and the child could not be overlooked either if she was still among the living."

"As the Magister combed the room, her eyes came upon a particularly unsavory sight ahead. A figure leaning against the back of a bit of steady looking wall, looking both wounded and panicked. The clothes he wore that seemed to have once quite beautiful and dyed in vibrant hues of red, blue, and gold, were now shredded and covered in blackened blood. His overcoat was missing a sleeve and there was a fairly large rip in the cloth of his chest where a piece of shrapnel had caught him during the explosion. The figure's face was gaunt and pale. So much so that those once attractive features came to look absolutely terrible. There were tears streaming down his face. The entire side of his forehead was smeared in chalky patches of blood, while his stark white hair was caked some manner of putrid smelling filth. It did little to detract from the gash running down his head, evident in the twitching light. The shivering man growled, startled, before immediately lunging forward like a feral beast.
He screamed out something nearly incomprehensible as he choked on his own tears and bloody Phlegm."

"SHTAY AWOY FRUB ME!"

"The maddened and evidently frightened bard thrust forward with his broken longsword, aiming to plunge the blade straight into the side of the strange and frightful Magister. His blow was wild, but his weapon barely found its mark, cutting into the woman's flank. The silver-haired warrior glided effortlessly through the debris, and slipped past the shattered-and-failing door in the small room just as the panicked man thrust his broken blade out. Blood. The ring of steel upon the floor. Words. Meaningless words. A rage gripped the swordmaster's heart."

"Slow. Slower still. The fires of the burning mansion did not dance and flicker. The suffocating smoke ceased it's chocking ballet. Sightless. With vision that spanned time, he could see the small enclosure of the room. The collapse of the support struts of the ceiling. His soul moved towards stillness, the world froze in place."

"He opened his eyes. Pupil-less spheres. Orbs of gleaming metallic-silver. One strike. A thrust. He watched the phantom-form of his future-self move forward with such speed. A spinning slash. Low. Precise. The flat of his blade. The metal did not touch him, only the force. The gale-breaking energy behind the blade sent the frail creature bounding off the wall. ...Heh. He closed his eyes."

"Faster then the eye could catch, he entered a spinning reversal drawing his blade with the motion. The air in the room compressed into a sonic screech keening from the master's sword, blasting away the smoke in the chamber. A thrust. Sure and deathly precise. Ending a half inch before it reached flesh. A misty-flash of light. He was spinning in a low horizontal crouched-slash with the flat of his blade. The sword was filled with a terrible purple-light and coiled by a sub-sonic field of energy. The wave
collided into the man, sending him crashing into the wall with a thunderous clap. His body slid down the charred-and-blasted stone surface, quite unconscious, but generally unharmed. The explosive force of the weapon left Avaricious bereft of his sensibilities."

"Spinning his blade in a reversed grip he sheathed the weapon after releasing the stunning clap of energy. It was a single blurred-thundering assault too quick to entirely be understood. He stood. Albeit, hunched due to the lowered height of the collapsed ceiling, speaking only a single word to the now debacled man; "Unacceptable."

"Asiresh bolted toward the study once more while gathering the magical focus he possessed within himself, consolidating it for use. Within his consciousness, his voice spoke out the horned devil. "Help me search for these petals before the building collapses!" His eyes begun to glow a sapphire hue as arcane energy suffused his vision. Frantically searching, looking for the unusual objects that had been so foolishly discarded. The crackling of fire drowned out the voices of those down the burning corridor only serving to remind him of the urgency of his task."

"Sir Roland desperately dragged corpses out from the burning rubble, determined to preserve any clues that threatened to be lost with the deceased. The stakes were far too high for that. "Pay no mind to me Lieutenant, Go find that other one, the old one! He seemed to be well-off enough. We need to know what happened here. Sheila.... The Venture Captain, is gone." The words seemed to choke him, but with all his bravado he pushed back the pain that welled in his eyes and made his voice crack." "We were too late, but our mission still stands. We need to know, what they know. And we need to know now! So go!"


"The terrible voice whispered within his mind, like a nauseating vapor that permeated his thoughts. ""Yes... They are here. Within this rubble and stone. Beneath the fallen shelves. Your arms are feeble, but even you should manage. Now move quickly. Souls gather about us. Coming for us." His magically augmented sight peered through the smokey room. Massive pieces of wood and timber and fallen cement blocks. The foundations of the walls had begun to fall, and not due to the battle which ravaged it, though his eyes were once again drawn to the sixty foot length of seared wood and rock Jeska's sunlight blade had cloven through. It would be difficult traversing through all this mess, but finally his eyes found the dim glow of his objective. It was exactly where the devil said it would be. The rattling snap of another beam overhead reminded him that he had to move quickly if he was to fetch the things before the place came down completely."

Then, the door opposite of the room slammed open from a burst of wind. Across the study through the burning smoke which began to billow in, he could see a tall lithe man hunched over from the lowered ceiling. His silver hair was strange and unnatural. His eyes were closed, as if blinded. The large fearsome looking sword hanging from his baldric at his side gave him an unsettling feeling. His gaze and the man's face met, then there was a moment of silence before he spoke. "...Pathfinder?"

"Asiresh silently locked gaze with man before breaking off the exchange, bleating his lie from the side of his mouth as he turned away. "...No" Ignoring the man he set himself to the task before him. Sinofel simply stood in place watching the old man dig through the debris. Lifting the remains of a book-case aside and shoveling through rubble with his hands as if searching. Then, with a pause. The old man found whatever it was. Greedily grasping the things in hand and shoving it into a pocket before motioning to leave."

"The Swordmaster opened his eyes. Two-steps. Death. Collapse. Wind. Lies. Fire.... Devil. Then they were closed. His hand moved to the blackened hilt of his weapon, slowly beginning to draw the blade. A surge. A gust of cyclonic wind rushed about him as the sword's blade gleamed dimly, then intensified into a faint light. The glimmer grew until it appeared as a solid beam of crimson fire. Half-drawn. The whirling storm about him became a raging wall of wind, ripping away at the papers and debris. A spinning vortex within the study. Now two-thirds drawn from his scabbard scabbard. "......I see you. I've found you. I've returned, to hold my word." He drew the blade fully. A wave of super-heated air exploded outward from the room like a churning nova of fire fueled by the immense blade's aura. Paper, tome, wood and stone were cast about wildly in the living storm and everything combustible instantly ignited as it was exposed to the heat.
Whipping flares of flame hurtled through the chamber like a howling cyclone of embers."

"The old man was lashed by the storming flames. The maelstrom of fire. The study was lit aflame and doused in terrible crimson light. He cried out in pain as the flames scorched his flesh. The Devil's voice screamed out in his mind. "RUN! RUN YOU FOOL! HE IS CONTROLLED BY ANOTHER!" Asiresh stumbled and crashed out the blasted hole in the wall, Smoking upon the ground."

"Hearing the Devil's words was enough for him to resolve that this was one fight he was not matched for. Even more-so after being lashed by flame and scorched. Committing himself fully to his escape Asir made his way out from the ear of the property, sprinting past the piled bodies screaming and flipping his walking staff to his hand" "Who the hell is this guy and why does he wish so much pain and suffering on'a geezer like me! HELP! SOMEBODY SAVE ME!"

"As the old man made his made bid at escape, running towards the main gate, his mind cried out to the damned Devil once more. "Who was he and why was he so hell-bent on destroying us? We could have died back there! That sword of his wasn't just any old blade, the cursed thing had a slaying aura. I don't think even your being could survive a blow from such a weapon. Explain!" His made dash brought him back through part of the manor around the smoldering blockaded pathway where the initial attack had occurred. "

"He dived out the door, clawing off the steps screaming, smoking, burnt and bruised. The adrenaline hammered in his head, his old bones hadn't moved this hastily in 40 years. Lady Vorns witnessed the frightful sight as the man dashed off speaking to himself madly, questioning what in the hells was going on. Her target had just run off, but the view from within the Manor's study shook her. The blazing heat could be felt radiating outward from the building even at this distance. A heat which was beginning to slowly re-focus and center. The raging fiery storm was condensing and shifting. The light tinted from crimson flame to a tarnished purple haze. It was a maelstrom which transformed into a single large ring of imploding violet light, quickly being drawn into the Swordmaster's blade. Ever smaller with each passing moment. The man's body visibly shook from the strain of bearing the the weapon tightly clenched within his hands, as if being electrocuted. Violently screamed out. His voice was distorted; the sound of two men."

"GAAAAHHHHH! BROTHER!"
"GAAAAHHHHH! BROTHER!"

"The Demon laughed haughtily within the old man's mind as he bolted past the the reanimated Viridi, the curious dhampir, the confused Lord of Commons who stopped in his tracks, and the annoying bard who held the Magister hostage. All eyes were drawn to him and the deafening roar of surging magic as he made his mad escape."

"HAHA! RUN HARDER FOOL! I know not what monster that had stood before me. A simulacrum. Artificial perhaps. But I know the soul which possesses it. Twas my brother Sino'Fel, who yet lives! I'd slain him long ago, though he destroyed my body in the exchange. Fortunate am I that I had bound my essence elsewhere, though he had cursed me before I took his head. It appears he has managed to capture, or create, whatever creature that was as his host. I must admit, I burn with envy. Yet it is no mater! FOR WE HAVE THEM! You've reclaimed the Renor'anon! With but a single bud at my disposal I had destroyed him once before! Now we've five!" "The horned devil laughed maniacally as if they had already won." "If we can only make it to Quortek V'dre, we will hav- !" "His words were cut short. Left echoing in the last glimmering fragments of Asiresh's consciousness. Cut short by the cacophonous sound of the destruction which leveled Heidmarch Manor. There was a flash of violet light. Pain. Heat. Then... nothing."







"He watched silently as the black fourty foot wide spear of darkened light pierced the sky. My, what an entertaining fellow. He was sure he would see him again... very soon. But where were they, the Seekers? He looked down upon the motley bunch that clawed their way out from the dirt. Pathetic. Truly disgraceful. And yet she'd promised him so much more then this... He sighed. A sigh of regrettable resignation. What his sister saw in them he could only guess. He had begun to grow bored."

He waved his insubstantial hand outward as the shockwave ruptured forth, threatening to consume all it touched within its disintegrating light. The simple gesture negated the magical after shock of the Calamity's 'Edge'. He'd fashioned such a weapon to be used by his brother, not to be used in the ridiculous squabbles of the twins. Why brother had even lent the blade to him, he could not begin to fathom. What gain was their from this, aside from some minor entertainment. Yet above all else, the boy could have inadvertently destroyed all of his hosts, and that would not do at all... No, no. At least one or two of his pets had to live... at least one or two."

"The Dark; First Fractured Timeline Icon - 02:26 PM, Toilday the 15th"

"He chuckled. Within this place.... Within this void. This space he could hardly call his own mind the great 'devil' Nelrin'Fel sat. Leisurely he laid back with one leg crossed over the other, resting at a great table made of naught but shadow. His form was far, far different now. Loosely the same dark shadowy robes hung about him, as if made of a mist. Yut his face was visible. Handsome and lithe, he could have passed for an elf if not for his massive pair of large curving antler-like horns and the silver of his hair. Silently looked out at the pacing old man."

"So you're not just an old bag of bones and blood after all. I had begun to suspect we'd never meet like this. Begun to have doubts if you were even worth the efforts I've spared you. Yet here we are. You even managed to acquire the Renor'anon for me. Simply brilliant... Even I, the great and fearsome Nelrin'Fel applaud your effort." "His grandiose and self gratifying words seemed to almost sound like joke. When the old man considered the damned Devil didn't even possess a body to call his own, the exchange seemed somewhat humorous. Nelin clapped his thin hands together at the old man's silent request. There were no words, simply the emphatic quiet of the bond fastly solidifying between them." "Raise you up? Ha! Mere child's play. Even one as decayed and rotten as yourself should recognize such by now. Or have you not noticed? You've already regained consciousness? This is not your mind, old one. This is the Void. The Dark. The place where you and I meet. The space our spirits are now joined..."

"The Devil rose to his feet slowly, circling the table, picking up a chalice of shadow. With a slow purposeful manner he swirled the contents before taking a sip. The darkly spirit coughed, almost spitting up the shadowy liquid at the geezer's bold words. He paused, glaring at the ancient elf with daggers in his eyes. Then his featured softened, and he threw his head back and laughed diabolically." "You old one, are by far, the most amusing, or dreadfully dense host I've ever had. Though surely amusing in your own distasteful manner nonetheless."

"He swirled the contents of the shadow cup about rhythmically as if in thought," "Yes, I know very well the contents of all that had laid within my prison. Things my former master thought best lost and forgotten to the world. Tools and weapons employed in my 'games' with Astrok'Ru. The arrow you possess, is however, not an arrow at all. It is, a little thing, I've had for some time. An ancient prize, won at the mischievous-god's expense. An artifact, best, rarely or never used. The Istovet Nacta, The Veil Piercer. The item as befitting of the cunning little sod, while, in the form of an arrow Is not as such, and will not strike what it is fired upon. A foul trick, as I was so fond of the rod-and-quiver myself, and expected something... with abit more... Perhaps, destructive power? Fire the damned thing at your own risk, but you've been warned. The Arrow cannot be lost, nor stolen, and is bound to your spirit. It will follow you even in your passing. Only Astrok'Ru may destroy or reclaim it, and I do not doubt such would require another 'game'. Now.... If you're quite finished. Get off the ground, you look pathetic."

"He turned around, before pausing and looking over his shoulder." "Ah, and a final bit of business. You seem to be having... severe difficulty acquiring souls for me. If this body is a hindrance. Search for another and We shall remedy that. You've proven worth the effort thus far. Don't disappoint me."

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

"It was then they heard the crackling blast of thunder. The great titan in the sky began to rise, flapping its massive wings while ascending into the heavenly storm. Pillars. Streams of shadowy smoke descended and tunneled through the air like flumes of whirling darkness. They approached quickly. The light dimmed slightly as the star atop the creature's back was covered by the stormy clouds. The dark funnels crashed into the Heidmarch Compound with silent explosive gusts of mist."

"Gods. Already? I had hoped we'd had more time. It was beginning to become so much more entertaining. Yet there is nothing I can do for you now. I've protected you as long as I may, brother. If you can hear these words... dear pets. Seekers. If you can hear these words... Run. Run... Run."

"A Dance of Mourning and Light; Magnimar - 02:28 PM, Toilday the 15th"

"They came down from the sky like wraiths cloaked in shadow. A massive knight, sheathed in layers and layers of dark armor with burning red eyes stood before the group like a vanguard for the strangers. The Massive charred blade it carried was held firmly in its shattered hand. The bloodied weapon was clenched in slashed and broken fingers. Its swordarm was left unadorned by a gauntlet, but even the wounds inflicted appeared to have done nothing to slacken its grip. The black knights' armor was in terrible repair, appearing more like an ancient relic than functional armor. It spoke nothing but his gaze was frightfully intense. The other pillars which struck down had begun to surround the group, near the kneeling dame, and the Dhampir, cutting off their immediate passage to the damaged wagon."

"Out of the darkness stepped a terrible sight. A freezing rotting corpse. A dead man, dressed in tatters. He appeared to be a sailor once. The rotting cloth upon his back and the cutlass in hand seemed to hint at such. Frozen rime still seemed to be coat its body. Then from behind, another such sailor emerged, advancing upon the group with weapons held at the ready."

"Finally, another cloud struck the ground but the smoke did not dissipate or abate. Flames. Terrible flames and smoke begun to froth up from the misty pillar. The odor of burning flesh rose and tainted the air. Burning fleshless men with blackened skin came staggering forth from the darkness. The were wreathed in flames and cried out with terrible pained groans."

"The dark knight stood solemnly, unmoving, as if no enemy remained before him. It remained waiting. Waiting as the creatures made their approach. Then, at last, far in the distance. A final pillar of dark smoke collided from its heavensward fall. In it's place crouched a fair skinned woman. Her face was smooth and soft with piercing crimson eyes. Her silver hair hung over a shoulder while her armor seemed to move and shift as if made of some living shade. Two blades lay firmly upon her back. Unsettling weapons with a distinctly visible aura all their own. The woman crouched by the old man, her hand pet his grayed tattered hair. "Brother. Brother? Can you hear me? I came as soon as I saw the light! I swear it. Brother? Why wont you move?" Her voice was soft and loving. A tone both caring and sweet. Then her gaze shifted up to the gathering horde of monstrosities. Screaming terribly like an enraged harpie, her voice shook the very air as if augmented by some unseen force." "CAN YOU NOT SEE HE'S FAMISHED!? GATHER SOULS FOR ME, QUICKLY! KILL THEM ALL IF YOU MUST!"

"She bent down and kissed the man's old wrinkled cheek and smiled." "Don't worry. I'll kill them all for you. Then we can leave before Mother notices. Sino'Fel came back home. He told her... But don't worry. I'm here now." "She gleefully drew her blades menacingly releasing some a dark field which radiated from her person. She wasn't human. She wasn't normal. The small-swords glowed brightly. Silently vibrating in her hands. She licked the flat of the blades somewhat suggestively." "So greedy. Don't worry Gestal. Estalt. Soon... Soon."

"The Alabaster Magister squinted sharply in recognition of the woman who had revealed herself as the head of the gathering dead. Lady Roslen Alery. Or at least, she had been once. The daughter of Lord Alery, master of the Foreign Ministry of the High Court was not a soul with many left to recognize her. Eris however had recognized the women's face instantly. She knew of her because she had been lost. 'Abducted' so they said, by highwaymen some years ago. They demanded an insane ransom for her return. It cost the Lord nearly all of his personal wealth. He sold his property and paid the criminals their money, however in exchange he received only her body. The leader, clawed and scarred, said she'd resisted and tried to escape. Things got out of hand and the girl was slain. Lord Alery, devastated by the loss vanished from the public-eye for years. It was only until recently that he had reemerged, holding both his former title and being instated as High-Judge within the House of Lords. He vowed to see criminals like those that had slain his daughter brought to justice, that no one need know the pain and suffering he had endured. The act had created a stone man. A hard man. With freezing eyes, and a calm transparent temperament that levied the weight of the law with complete lifeless and un-endearing ferocity that could only be called disquieting. He was a man feared by any on the wrong side of the law. The story... and this women's face, had both become quite infamous to those most hardened of criminals. The face of death. How was she here now?"




"The Dark; First Fractured Timeline Icon - 02:28 PM, Toilday the 15th"

"Asiresh stood before him again. The Devil. He did not face him this time. His back was turned away, his hands clenched behind his back. For a time he did not speak, yet he could feel his intent." "It seems we've assimilated far more, completely, then I would have anticipated." He turned to face the old man. His voice was calm, betraying no intention." "Yes. Halja'Fel is my sister, and my wife. Unlike I, she is complete. Complete as I never have been. So attuned are we now even she could sense my return through you. I will not tell you what to do, but now you must decide who you will stand with. These... mortals who conspire against you. Or us. We will collect the shards and defeat Mother's plots just like the rest. Know well, that even if you would decline. You will be pursued. My brothers and sisters seek to return us home, for we had fled. They and their apostles will never cease. It is a danger you must be prepared to face by your own violation. Do not question that should you betray me, Halja will cut you down and release me to find a more suitable host. Though, by the strength of this pact, I imagine that might prove somewhat more difficult. Regardless, I leave this choice to you." "He turned his back away from the old man again." "Know if you accept these words willingly. You. Asiresh Lokin, will cease to be. You will be Nelrin'Fel, and I will be you."




"The undead abominations were upon them in full. The Lieutenant's party retreated backwards, pressed by the horde's advance. It was only Koriah and Nadia who had begun to notice the Burning Ghat's mutilated corpse start to quake and quiver. Gouts of flame leapt from its body as it's wounds begun to sporadically spew molten liquid. Then its corpse caught in a spasm, it's charred flesh bubbling and cracking as a red light simmered deep within the carcass. Koriah took a step back, eyes wide in realization that they had made a grave error. She had assumed the rear line was weak. A vulnerability she intended to exploit as they made their escape. She looked back far across the battlefield, as her senses sharpened. Though she couldn't hear it, she could see the lips of the pale-silver haired women curl up in a devious grin. Her mouth motioned the syllables" "...Checkmate. "

The pathfinder turned back to her compatriots and screamed a second too late. "HIT THE DIRT!" The cries sounded just as the Ghat exploded, releasing a massive twenty foot blast of infernal liquid-fire flaring outward. The combustion struck everything around the creature as if its body were a vessel of flame. The eruption struck the fleeing party. The Alabaster Magister looked back just as the explosion overtook them. A blinding flash of light and heat swept back her hair and washed her in fire."

Crippled, she lay upon the ground. Between the explosions and cries coming from behind where she saw two of her companions had been struck down in the detonation, Eris knew that there wasn't any other choice. Lady Nocticula, please, let this call be heard by someone who can help get us all out of here! With her silent, desperate prayer, she reached for the Magister's Badge beneath her spell-woven robes, willing it to activate, crying for aid. It didn't matter that it was forbidden. It didn't matter that no one could know just what or who might be drawn by the sigil's power. It was a Magister's absolute last resort, a card she had no choice but to play now. I hope, whoever you are, you can get all of us out of here! The Abyss itself would be safer!

[Part 5]

[Mornings]

"A Dance of Mourning and Light; Magnimar - 02:28 PM, Toilday the 15th"

A strange old voice resounded in the Magister's mind as her badge disintegrated and her call was issued. Inside, she could feel something change. Perhaps it was her demonic blood responding and awakening, or perhaps it was something far too abstract to be understood. It was as if if she had unleashed something into existence while awakening some indescribable perception beyond anything she knew all at once. She could hear now... the dark tidings of this ancient speaker.

"I could hear his cries ring out through the space between time and the ages past. From another world isolated from this garden. A realm between. A prison in which the Lord of War had belonged. Some place far from here, from this place. I knew I should have intervened. I should have stopped them. Even with the Bringer of Peace returned to this world, the blight which followed, the stain which blotted the First World could not be undone. Only contained. The Calamity Edge was unraveled. My work, unmade. This world, spoiled. Now, there was little left to stop it. The clock had begun to tick. The merciless cold. The unfeeling hands that would usher the fall of everything that would be back unto the First. Even she, our Mother could not have foreseen this small simple chance. Coincidence spurred into being by some Magister's dying breath. Even they, the Children; L'Dalharen feared its coming. Like the Night Heralds prophetic ramblings, the world was offered up in sacrifice. Now it was only a question of who would destroy it first. Would it be the Children, the fallen son, or would it all simply be washed away in Valpurga's Primeval Dark? It mattered little, for it was all tied now to the motions of the endless Devouring Night that dwelt within the Black. It was all in motion once more. There was no choice. No hope, save for the star left in this dying world...."

"Oh, Seekers. Seekers. Hear me. You must. Leave this place. Find Astrok'Ru or the Renor'anon. They will lead you unto me. Now the only salvation lay in Quortek V'dre. I can protect you no longer."

Regina was the first to recover her senses. The daze which swept through her mind was numbing. It felt as if she had been suspended or held in stasis for centuries. Forced to watch some distant memory reply upon itself with no context or measure of what it all was supposed to mean. In the dream-state she was nothing. Simply an observer without the ability to make any difference at all, but now she was free... Free. Her attention circled about to her new circumstances and the familiarity of her own hands.

The orc, Varag, stirred in the frost as the chill begun to steal the feeling from his arms. Perhaps there was a hell worse than the halls of Willowbrook, but it was a prison for the mind. The kind of chamber in which there was no true escape. He could only be thankful that at least he was no longer captured within a stranger's body. It felt like a simple thing, but recent events had proven otherwise. Simply being whom you are, within and throughout felt far more like a blessing. He wouldn't squander it.

As Loimi and Miryks came to and gathered their wits they noticed the strangers close by laying in the snow. Whatever manner of spell has ensnared them was concluded, but they noticed that a certain awareness imparted by it yet remained. The, something which oversaw it. The someone who conducted the motions and twists in existence. Though now seemed like a poor time to contemplate the mysteries of the universe. The fog which billowed through the snowy expanse wasn't insignificant, but at the very least man-made structures could be seen scattered around them. A welcome sight versus the endless forests and prison cells.

[PART 6] - END OF GROUP 2 UPDATE

Spoiler: Of Memory Past - Joint Reflections & Surviving the Mirrored World

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Joint Reflections & the Mirrored World
There any many variations of the unique condition known as Reflections. While in this state you are able to step into someone else's shoes, temporarily becoming them. Each Reflection carries with it numerous conditions which determine its own unique differences. A Joint Reflection allows multiple individuals to simultaneously become the same individual, at the same time. In some cases this may restrict one host to be the 'active' or 'controlling' will, while other times this may not be the case. In some instances, having a Reflection destroyed inflicts no negative effect upon the possessing hosts, while other times the new identity may be equivalent to the host's original body. Learning to function while in a Reflected state is vital towards conquering certain challenges and defeating vile foes capable of forcefully Reflecting their enemies in combat. Numerous Potentials and abilities exist which bolster a character's abilities while in this state exist and serve to aid in bettering your odds during future encounters. Utilizing associated unique skills while occupying a new identity will assist you in identifying the unique functions and limitations of your current form when you've become changed in this manner. Without the associated skills, determining the individual effects in place while in these forms becomes remarkably difficult.

✦ [Instability] - Your conscious's hold upon the mirrored world is wanning and in constant shift. By exercising considerable efforts, you may delay the inevitable, but ultimately you knew your mind could not hold back the weight of the crushing world for long. Paired players switch into their partner's position and map at the end of each round. As a free action any player may attempt to succeed a DC 16 will save to resist this effect, success is achieved if either player succeeds. With each consecutive success the DC of this effect increases by 2 and resets upon failure. This is a stability effect

✦ [Bound Souls] - Some ineffable force now binds you together across time and reality, mirroring each other in some strange yet familiar place. Characters become aware of the position, circumstances and happenings of their partner each time they spend a swift action to close their eyes and focus. Players cannot speak with each other across the mirrored world directly, but may become aware when being observed by outside forces, such as the player, by passing a forced DC 20 sense motive check. A player may perform this function as a move action instead if no swift actions remain. Should either player be killed, both bound players immediate die.

✦ [Chained Fates] - Time, the world, perhaps even the very universe as they could understand it seemed in constant flux as the frames of reality seemed to shorten or lengthen by the actions of their other self which haunted them in their dreams. As it always had been, the visions and nightmare seemed to chain you down. Players share a single action economy pool made up of; 1 standard action, 2 move actions, 1 swift action, 1 immediate action and 1 miscellaneous action (5ft step). This does not change what kinds of actions a player can normally take, thus a single player cannot take a double move and a standard action. This pool is the maximum number of actions which can be performed between both players. Taking an immediate action will prevent that player from using a swift action as normal, but does not decrease the available actions within their shared action-pool. In this state both bound character's share the same initiative (whichever is highest). If bound characters attempt to take more actions than they possess in the pool, both character's actions fail and must succeed a DC 20 will save to resist the crippling effects of their desyncronization.

✦ [Mortal Form] - Reborn into a woman's form, you are no longer the person you were before. Tied into a human body, you have lost all racial abilities, features and spells associated with your previous life while in this reflected state.

✦ [Sacrifice Essence] - Though everything that was you is no more, you can still recount the memories, the very core of yourself, and separate yourself from the dumbing sensation as your very existence is drowned beneath the weight of your reborn state. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, your persona still stands within the darkness. You can feel your sword at your side, your bow in your hand, magic on your lips... yet you hesitate. The memory is all you have left to stand between you... and what you were fast becoming. The identity, the soul whose name you could still recall - the you which you could still define and envision... it would begin to dissolve if you reached out across the breach to usher it forth into this horrid frozen place. That wasn't you any longer, but you were afraid to forget; afraid to let go.

Players have access to all of their equipment and spells which they have identified previously. Unidentified equipment and spells are inaccessible in this state. All items and equipment may be summoned or donned as a free action which may be taken even when it is not your turn. Shields and armor only function for 1 round after being attacked, regardless of the result, and are then expended. Weapons may be used to make any number of attacks during a single round before also being expended. All items, regardless if they are consumable, are expended after a single use. An item which has been expended shatters in a glassy blue burst of light and is permanently lost. The character looses all memories associated with any item lost in this way, but can still recall what it was they have lost by succeeding a DC 25 will save as a move action. Non-consumable items sacrificed in this way grant a 10% chance of providing the character with 1 point of Memory.

Spells and abilities which function with a caster level may be utilized by spending a free action to recover the chosen spell and create an Epsilon, a small unique sphere of creative power. The chosen spell or ability is contained within the Epsilon, functioning as if the pre-cast spell or ability were within it. This sphere may be passed, exchanged, dropped and used by other creatures. The spell or ability contained within may be activated as a move action regardless of the casting time of the original spell or ability. The holder of the Epsilon may also choose to instead absorb the contained spell or ability as a move action as well, even if they were not the original creator of the sphere. Once an Epsilon is created the contained spell or ability is permanently lost by the caster. Spells are removed from all of the character's class spell lists, expended spell slots are lost indefinitely, abilities are removed from the associated class permanently and associated resources spent are deducted from the maximum value of their respective pools. The caster looses all memories associated with any spell or ability lost in this way, but can still recall what it was they have lost by succeeding a DC 25 will save as a move action. Spells sacrificed in this way grant a 10% chance of providing the character with 1 point of Memory.

✦ [Conflicted Mind] - Caught between a warring state of dreams and consciousness spanning across some unknowable gap, character's must succeed numerous opposed stability checks to remain in control, or be submerged beneath the madness and fear. Failing stability checks will progressively further increase the difficulty of enemies and checks during the encounter. Either paired player may succeed and pass for the both of them.

✦ [Fear of Darkness] - Hope cannot move further than the distance she can see (as displayed by the map), and character's loose all fear resistances and immunities they possess in this form. Various fear effects may further limit her actions, which may be resisted by the benefits of the memories she discovers.

⯎ [Of Memories Past] - Hope's traumatic memories have blurred the lines of all things past and present into one inexorable jumbled nightmare. All things which should have existed, or have once been lay buried in the frozen wastes which haunt her visions. In the darkness gleaming sparks, remnants of the hopes, joys and iconic fears once held by the souls of all living things in some place or some point in histories that were or would be lay buried in the frozen reaches of the forest.

Hope can sense when near to a buried memory, which shines as a light in the darkness. As a swift action she can recover a memory. Hope may possess any number of memories and may choose to utilize any memory she's recovered as a free action. Memories are bound to the mirrored world in which they are left, but travel with the character when shifting location via Instability. A memory may be dropped in a new location, binding it to that map and making it available to characters on that map, or characters who switch in. Each memory possesses at least one ability, some of these abilities may expend that memory causing it to be lost forever. Passing memories to your partner is critical in defeating the terrors which lurk in the dark.

⯎ [There You Are] - Despite your changed form, your awareness of self remains strong enough to hold back the reality of your shift. You retain all class abilities, hit points, armor class, saves, skills and functions you previously possessed. The benefits of this ability are lost if your wisdom ability score decreases below 7.

Spoiler: Critical Note: Forbidden Knowledge

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Knowledge (Forbidden) is one of the most useful unique skills in the game, but also the absolute most dangerous ability a player character can utilize when performed outside of a very specific set of conditions, including the aid of numerous Potentials. Each time a PC attempts to utilize this skill without the protective features of other Potentials, they run a chance of acquiring a 'Corrupted Fate'. These conditions are a form of Curse which can potentially bestow numerous profane and crippling effects, but will in addition alter all quests and objectives the character possesses and can receive - permanently. The effects of a Corrupted Fate can be resolved by discovering and accomplishing the unique conditions associated with it. These conditions are always extremely severe, and may require an entire campaign-length undertaking to complete; stealing precious time which could be spent on other objectives.

Regardless of the result of the %dice in determining if such a status is received, the character receives a number of points of Spite, and possesses a very high chance of incurring a Divergence or critical alteration, which may impose its own unique consequences, depending on the circumstances. The percent of such events occurring caps at 100% upon the third use. A character may only utilize Knowledge (Forbidden) unprotected three times throughout the entity of the game. Upon exceeding this number of uses, the current character is immediately slain after the skill's resolution. This ability kills all iterations of a character simultaneously, but is specific to the identity which activated the ability and does not extend past Reflected Personas. This effect cannot be prevented by any source. Slain character's cannot be returned to life, including from such Potentials as Lesser Immortality.

Spoiler: Status

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֍ Mirykys +600 (3,100xp)
HP 37/37
AC 17
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Stalking Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Mystery Influence Gained
⯎ Corruption Influence Gained
⯎ Revelation Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Forbidden Influence Gained
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Realms Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Divinity Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Dreams Influence Gained
⯎ Recovered [Otherworld Quiver]
⯎ Recovered [Unidentified Arrows] x10
⯎ Bonus Experience, Prologue +1,000 (4,100xp)
⯎ Reality Altered +500 (4,600xp)
⯎ Rubedo +400 (5,000xp)
⯎ Lady Black +500 (5,500xp)
⯎ The Inquisition +200 (5,700xp)
⯎ Kaslin Crowe +200 (5,900xp)
⯎ Kas'Llyn'Ryel +300 (6,200xp)
⯎ Ryott Sparrow +300 (6,500xp)
⯎ A Dance of Mourning & Light +8,000xp (14,500xp)

֍ Regina +700 (9,525xp)
HP 53/53
AC 19
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Discovery Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Tapestry Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Dimensions Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Vision Influence Gained
⯎ Light Influence Gained
⯎ Stability Influence Gained
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Red Influence Gained
⯎ Reflections Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Stars Influence Gained
⯎ Bonus Experience, Prologue +1,000 (10,525xp)
⯎ Herald +375 (10,900xp)
⯎ The Crucible +500 (11,400xp)
⯎ The World Beyond +500 (11,900xp)
⯎ The Third Sphere +300 (12,200xp)
⯎ She Who Lights the Way +400 (11,600xp)
⯎ A Dance of Mourning & Light +8,000xp (19,600xp)


֍ Loimi +50 (50xp)
HP 48/48
AC 18
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Dimensions Influence Gained
⯎ Planes Influence Gained
⯎ Bonus Experience, Prologue +1,000 (1,050xp)
⯎ A Dance of Mourning & Light +8,000xp (9,050xp)


֍ Varag +50 (50xp)
HP 31/31
AC 19
⭍ [Displacement] -2 penalty to Stability Checks
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Stability Influence Gained
⯎ Red Influence Gained
⯎ Veils Influence Gained
⯎ Bonus Experience, Prologue +1,000 (1,050xp)
⯎ A Dance of Mourning & Light +8,000xp (9,050xp)

Spoiler: Influences

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Influences represent current knowledge, pursuits, training, experiences and aspirations which are actively effecting or being utilized by a character. These represent various concepts and begin to outline a character's values and path as they grow. Influences which are not used regularly are lost, but can be gained again once a character begins pursuing an avenue related towards that field or concept. Influences determine a character's growth in many ways, including experience points they earn and which Potentials they can acquire at any given time.

Unlike with limited class levels, Influences are not acquired spontaneously, and are acquired throughout play; creating an active system which enables a character to re-train, gain new powers, or even improve upon old ones actively with their in-character actions. Training with a sword or exercising the use of an existing Potential allows a character to learn new techniques, empower his current abilities, or even grow his tolerance to pain, sustain damage, run faster, sleep less, and more. Influences play a vital role in developing more sophisticated interpersonal skills and ability to deal and establish diplomatic relations with all manner of strange and otherworldly creatures which you may encounter; in addition to learning more about the unnatural forces which no worldly knowledge could shed light upon. All unique skills are only able to be acquired via potentials, which are trained and worked towards acquiring via your pursuits, experiences, and by extension - your Influences.

Spoiler: Point: 323 - Willowbrook Sanitarium, F3B (About Tainted Lands)

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Tainted Lands are incredibly complex and foreign realms which are often guised as places once familiar. Each tainted region is individually unique and carries with it its own risks, rules, threats and worldly hazards. Many things cannot function, work differently, or can lead to reality crushing results that make survival for most creatures delving into their reaches an impossibility. Site Investigators often travel with groups of Harriers or Gales for long extended periods conducting a through survey of each corrupted-site, known as a 'Point'. These reports are used by various venturing companies to conduct expeditions, known as 'Dives', into the tainted lands. Points are always geographically divided into many areas known as 'Sectors' by Site Investigators. Sectors within a Point mark areas where the rules of the other areas which have been surveyed dramatically differ, be that the laws of nature or magic, or even stranger changes they cannot understand.

Common rules which Gales are familiar include such things as; violent reactions to non-grounded magics, reactions to supernatural energies and abilities, reactions to specific materials, reactions to unstabilized magical creatures and creatures capable of withholding or generating energy, and items or persons keyed to a particular influence.

Fortunately there were not very many public users of magics due to the general fear and suspicion associated with the practice, and thus even less individuals with such talents that traveled into the tainted regions. Magic was an inherently suicidal thing to employ in such places without a remarkable understanding of the Point and all features of the rules which governed the Sector currently being occupied. Everything in a spell from the time it took to produce, to the school, effect, number of targets and even the manner in which the spell functioned were all individuals factors which could set off a dimensional-explosion and throw an entire team of unwitting mercenaries through a hole into Abadon; or worse. There was always worse, they just hadn't learned what that was yet, that was the first lesson tainted lands had to teach the fools which dared brave its depths. Wizards and magicians were generally less welcome by companies that ventured to such places, than they were by the general public. Unless the magician in question specialized in using his or her magic in such places, and possessed a record to back it, not even a fool would bring one along. There existed unique items called 'Grounds' which restrained and processed a magician's magic making it generally safe to use, but they were immensely expensive and built for each individual mage. Yet, more vexing was the matter than a single magician would often need multiple Grounds as no single device was assured to provide every protection for every circumstance. Nor were they permanent fixtures, like filters, they eventually spoiled and failed. At least the ones commercially available. The device's creator, the genius inventor Denil Demn could produce Grounds which would self-cleanse and restore themselves with time, but acquiring a commission from the man was a nightmare. If not because of the competition attempting to do the same, than because the craftsman was notoriously difficult to reach.

The degree of influence upon supernatural powers varied wildly, but was based on the level of corruption the tainted region possessed. In some of the worst places there were documented cases of Gales detonating in a bloody mess from simply employing internal forces to accelerate their speed and agility. Much like a monastic practitioner of martial arts, many Harriers preferred to learn to hone inner energies to aid themselves in conflict while Diving, but even this was not completely safe. During 'Deep Dives' companies outfitted their members with various equipment to maintain internal stability, but this was not something exclusive to the most foul of places. If the rules of a Sector were particularly twisted, it was possible to experience those same hazards without venturing into the belly of the beast.

Some materials or creatures didn't react well in tainted regions. The places were often so alien and foreign that not even animals could enter. Sometimes it wasn't just animals, it could be steel, or wood. Maybe iron. No one would know what all, if any may have been effected until a Site Investigator ran their exhaustive tests. Some of the most strange of places caused unnatural phenomena from things associated with a particular thing. Perhaps a cleric's symbol, or a deity's favored weapon, maybe the pages of a book. It was as if the world were possessed by some malicious spirit that remembered only the things related to what had wronged it. None of these places were necessarily good to ever venture, many Gales never bothered. Even putting the twisted spaces of reality aside, the Veilbeasts and other horrors were enough to convince any sane man to keep his distance. Veilplague had become nearly non-existent, but the corruption and curses which could be afflicted were a horrendous burden. If a man were blighted, he could not be allowed into a town or city. It was all one could do to simply pray that a green witch or other healing pariah might be able to mend them, as civil men would have no choice but to quarantine or kill the infected. There simply were no known cures for most maladies, at least not in the hands of the peoples at large. For most, death was assured.


Point: 323, F3B: Sector 1B - Regional Effects
✦ The Mirrored World
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????

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Main Quest: The Fires of Willowbrook, Part 1
Long ago the Auspex had spoken of the four years which had come and gone from behind the bars of their cages. It was impossible to know just how long it had been since then, but if there was any lesson to be had in all of it, it was that 'time was meaningless'. Strength had begun to return to them. The future was their own to command if they could just wrest it free from the dead-hands of the hell named 'Willowbrook'. That was what they had to keep telling themselves. They said it over and over again until it became truth, the only truth that mattered. It had to be that way, because if they allowed themselves to slip, they would be faced with the terror of another reality too horrible to defeat. Then the 'nothing' which loomed above them like the executioner's axe, would fall. Then they too would join it; and this time, there would be no return.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: Unknown
Primary Objective (1): Flee Sector 1B
Primary Objective (2): Escape Willowbrook Sanitarium

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Side Quest: Restless, The Nightmare Below
Lord Matik recounts his battle with a horrid and powerful creature, a horror known as the Ember Beast. Whatever the secrets of its power, it has transformed the knight into something inhuman and unnatural. Something sleeps far below the asylum, a terror steeped in blood and fire. Perhaps the secrets to the infernal warrior's own cursed disposition lay somewhere buried in the deep, or perhaps there was only death. Only one thing was certain; the creature was too dangerous to be allowed to live. It had to be stopped.
Difficulty: Challenging | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: Unknown
Primary Objective: Defeat the Ember Beast

---

[Mornings]

Faux Paw

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Main Quest: Waking, A Song of Mourning and Light
Hellish screams were all that had become familiar within this nightmarish dreamscape. The only certainty which pervaded the mind was the knowing, that a dream, no matter how horrid, was still just a dream. Even the pain was distant here. Numbing and dazing, and sharp. Yet with each passing moment, it seemed like the claws grew sharper, and the gloom, more deep. Even they, the nightmares, patiently waited, as if aware of their own imaginary state. Still, they smiled. Dark laughter as they attempted to bury you. With each passing moment, it felt as if the dream were becoming more real... It threatened to even overcome your sense of reality. Everything within screamed out, that should you idle for long, you would never return... yet you were compelled to stay, to see something more, because something was coming. Even without you, somewhere the nightmare still churned beneath the surface. Even without you, it would come back to drown out the real, but perhaps somewhere in this some secret remained. A clue to ending the wretchedness rising up to pervade this world.
Difficulty: Unknown | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: 3/4 Rounds
Primary Objective: Unknown

---

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(Complete) Main Quest: Dreaming, In Memory of Waking
Horror and death choke the City of Monuments. Otherworldly terrors accost the city and devour the living by the thousand. He didn't understand how he arrived here, but somehow he had escaped the grasp of the banishing dark - only to find himself in a city-turned-hell. He didn't know how long he could hold out amidst the siege, but his life was quickly draining out from his cursed wounds. He had to survive, no matter the cost.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Insight & Paths Influence | Time: 0/2 Rounds
Primary Objective: Survive Quest Duration.

---

The knight-princess, Lady Alice D'Aritel, nodded sharply. "Unfortunately, circumstances-considered, I can't say it's a 'pleasure... but it is good to see you are well, Faux. Those remaining who might otherwise share that claim grow fewer in number with each passing moment." The stoic woman dug into a pouch at her belt producing a rough, but clean, linen cloth. Handing the scrap to the disheveled thief, she allowed him a moment to remove a measure of the muck from himself as she spoke. "The city came under siege by an aerial force south-east of our position. The bulk of their number were halted initially by my men holding the gate in the Naos district. Though, from what reports I managed to gather prior to... this. There were secondary forces which struck the Alabaster District towards the direction of the gate following the Lost Coast Road. Likely their true target from the beginning. By what was recounted by the Lord of Commons, Sir Roland, the man you just met; the battle which overtook Alabaster District was the most fierce, resulting the the death of a large amount of my garrison. Men whom had been stationed there due to the scheduled tournament... That was all by second bell. Two hours ago." The linen cut was now completely soiled and dripping, thick with clumps of reddish sludge that resembled handfuls of damp clay. It felt disgusting to hold, but better than the coat of gore soaking into his own fur. It was hardly all of the stuff, but it was surely a start. The Steel Princess glanced at the rag before turning away. "While the House of Lords remains standing, returning now would not be wise. Those things flood the street, and half the city has been reduced to little more than holes filled with naught but rubble by the wrath of the golden titan whom has taken the skies. No, our objective now is this undercity... I do hope you are nimble." [Status (Faux) | Drenched II ]

Spoiler: Status: Drenched

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Drenched
Liquid drenches the character’s body, soaking the clothing and increasing the weight of the items. Characters that are inflicted with this status effect have their carrying weight increased by 10 lbs. In addition, while under this status effect, any lightning spells and effects inflict an additional 1d6 points of lightning damage. However, any fire spells and effects that deal fire damage remove the status effect. By spending 1 round, the character can also remove the wet clothing as well to remove the status effect. Certain abilities may stack this condition multiple times, inflicting a scaling weight increase, but no other changes to this condition's effects unless stated otherwise.

[Current Weight: +20 lbs]

Lady Alice moved with a purpose, marching towards the end of the narrow walkway which arced over the sluice chambers below. Holding up her torch, the dim flicker of the flames light shown a heavy steel pipe running down past another hole in the wall, forming a passage of sorts into one of the many routes through the labyrinthine corridors. With a careless gesture she tossed the torch down to the ledge below then cast herself into the blackened metal pipe which likely served as a duct to route sewage from the surface. Despite her pedigree the stench and ickor which befouled her fine armor and garments seemed to curiously not bother the woman at all. Sliding down the fixture she came to a stop simply utilizing an impressive measure of grip strength, then stepping off unto the ledge into the new tunneling hall. Turning she gestured for Faux to follow. "Come, but don't fall down there. You'd surely perish." The vision of the dreadful plummet to the blackness of a bottom beyond perception was rattling under such desperate conditions, but not enough to distract him from the reminder of the sharp pain which stole a breath. He could feel his warmth slowly being drawn away. It was running down his feet to fill the plodding slurry of grimy footprints he left. Pools of blood. He didn't have long left.
[Sliding Down: DC 18 Acrobatics Vs Extended Duration 2]

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13 Nightmares - Distortion I: Nine Lives & Illusion
Things that should not be have surrounded you. Places long gone from times forgotten. The burdens of such experiences you've carried in silence, even when buried by the blighted corpses of men that had never lived. These twisted and fragmented pieces of the world should have been swept away. Deleted with the rest of the corruption. Now they blackened small spaces beneath the surface, rotting and corroding places in reality which were whole. Somehow, you'd survived longer than possible in these horrid memoryscapes, and now your secrets gave you ability beyond explanation. An anomaly that should not be.

Benefit: This ability may be activated as a free action which may be taken during any round. The Dreamer may select any one location they have visited since acquiring this potential if they have not done so already. Using this ability displaces the Dreamer from their current physical location, and into an altered dreamscape resembling the location they had chosen. The duration is determined randomly and cannot be ended until this period expires. If the Dreamer survives until the end of the duration or is slain, they are returned to a random location within one divergence of the world they were removed from. In the event the Dreamer is slain, he suffers 1d6 points of wisdom drain. If certain circumstances are met a dreamscape may be cleared. Once a dreamscape is chosen, it may not be changed again until cleared. This ability may only be activated a maximum of 9 times, however upon clearing a dream an additional use of this potential is granted. The Dreamer may take a number of willing creatures they maintain physical contact with them into this dream-state equal to their HD. If the dreamer clears nine dreamscapes he gains the Blessing of the Nightmare King potential. The Dreamer's maximum HD increases by 1.

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Spoiler: Status

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֍ Faux +400 (1,750xp)
HP 17/33 (2 bleed)
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 3
⭍ [Cursed Wound] 2 Bleed, DC 22 Heal (full-round action)
⭍ [Wounding Curse] Fast Healing & Regeneration Disabled. Cannot Heal Grievous Wounds. Cannot Recover Hit-Points. Harms Others. Cure Unlearned.
AC 19
Extra Effort Used: 2/6
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Freedom Influence Gained
⯎ Tactics Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Dreams Influence Gained
⯎ Intrigue Influence Gained
⯎ Nightmare Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Night Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Insight Influence Gained
⯎ Paths Influence Gained
⯎ Sickness Influence Gained
⯎ Slaughter Influence Gained
⯎ Acquired [Clear Dagger] - Unidentified
⯎ The House of Lords +100 (1,850xp)
⯎ Battle on the Wall +150 (2,000xp)
⯎ Lady D'Aritel +300 (2,300xp)
⯎ Roland +400 (2,700xp)
⯎ Lord D'Aritel, the Night of Tears +100 (2,800xp)
⯎ Gri'atal +300 (3,100xp)
⯎ Nightmare Conqueror +3,000 (6,100xp)

[Mornings]

421st Day of the 1st Cycle - Time: 9th Bell / LC: 30,303
Jun'athel; L'Chandal - The Crucible
????????; ???????

Alicia's mind tried to search every distant memory. There existed no recollection of the name 'Halja' within the Teachings, but those sacred text only paid mind to the House of Black. If the L'Dalharen before her was indeed a Witness, then she came not from the House of Black, but another. The woman's hard crimson gaze and perfect silver hair were not unheard of features of the divine Children, but were uncommon except within the House of the Mother of the First. The House whom nearly total command of the Three Worlds belonged. The position of a Witness was typically held by another Enforcer of a foreign House, and all Children held the same naming suffix; making her name Halja'fel. It was a short name if that indeed was her name, and not something invented by Caus'fel. The House of the First was known to bestow names as titles, making them rather elaborate. Yet, Stella's mind felt there was perhaps some hint to the mystery of the second Enforcer's identity. While Alicia didn't know the specifics or understand the distinction of shorter names within a House she did not even belong, there was a tale of a vicious Enforcer whom had wrest forces from beyond the Garden tied to blades of frozen blue sunlight. The words had only been heard in passing from some Sun'jathla within the Academy. Supposedly this Enforcer held a short name, a dishonor carried for some past transgression. Though, neither Enforcer was visibly armed, Alicia imagined that such forces had no need for something as mundane as a scabbard. [Stella | Knowledge (Abstract) - Partial]

The specifics of the actual works of the House were unknown to a lowly Witch like herself, a fact which remained true even in her previous life. The Teachings only spoke of how 'the Houses maintained balance with one another', that 'during time of greatest strife or grievance a Witness of each House would ensure validity in the proceedings', and that 'the Witness, who was Enforcer, would speak as representative on behalf of their House'. This particular court didn't appear to be terms which she'd define as 'greatest strife or grievance'. Nor did it appear that Caus'fel himself was expecting the Witness from another House to show. According to the Teachings, if this was such a time appropriate for Witness to be present, than there should have been two Witnesses present. One from the House of the Mother of the First, and another from the House of the Blessed Mother. There was no other Witness. Alicia could only assume this was an unusual occurrence and something related to some unknowable internal agreement. It was impossible to know just how the presence of the Witness would impact her case. [Stella | Knowledge (Abstract) - Failure]

Alicia did not understand what Quortek V'dre was, but to Stella it represented the final resting place of the souls of all Witches. Neither a place of good, nor evil. There was no distinction like the lower planes of the mortals; realms like Elysium, Heaven or Hell. After ones final judgement before the House, Quortek V'dre, or the Soul Warren, became your reward or your penance. Unlike the mortal realms, the dead couldn't simply rise back up and recount its glory. No one had ever returned to speak of what lay beyond the curtain of mortality. It was as mysterious and unknowable as the descent unto the folds of death. For entities bound to the threads of fate, there was no greater absolute than this; nothing returned from that place. [Stella | Knowledge (Abstract) - Partial]

The names of L'Dalharen from a foreign House were almost completely unknown, with less than a handful of exceptions. Much how the lessons of the Second World venerated the chosen of various Houses, so too were a very select few of L'Dalharen. Most of the divine Children existed unknown and unseen, but those which were known held entire covens of worship all their own. Talri'fel was one such example, and the name sent a cold shiver down her spine. To her faithful, she was known only as the Mourning & Light. As L'Dalharen, she was the Daughter of Anguish. It was her existence which created the balance and imperfections of the lower worlds by those misfortunes, torments and evils she released spiraling out into the near-infinite spans of reality. Every blight and pain, every moment of suffering, every thread which ended in dreadful fate... All was born of her divine work. While neither evil nor goodly, she was nothing more than an Enforcer of will for the Mother of the First. A Vessel for countless entities beyond words and comprehension. Her faithful were darkly and zealous; lunatics and madmen of every color whose practice was secreted away beyond the prying eyes of Witches. The Daughter of Anguish was perhaps the oldest Child of her House and had long ago discarded the words of all others whom were not her own Mother. No one, not even the Lady Black could stop or dissuade her ceaseless unthinking sense of purpose. The walls of this court and its occupants would not have stopped her. There would have been no words, only agony. [Stella | Knowledge (Abstract) - Success]

Alicia had never heard of 'marriage', at least not for L'Dalharen. Stella could recount from the Teachings of how rarely, at times, a 'blessed union' might occur. Though this was oft between forces of different Houses. Whatsmore, this union had to be blessed by each Mother of their respective Houses. While all Children were related, only those belonging to the same House referred to themselves as Sisters, or Brothers. A union within the same House not only made no sense, it was an action which directly contradicted the Teachings. To a zealous Witch, the proposition was unthinkable, just as unthinkable as a violation of the Teachings. Even considering how rare such as case was, Stella had no idea who might be the betrothed, she had never heard of such a thing. [Stella | Knowledge (Abstract) - Failure]

While the name of the Justice was foreign, the title was not. The Justice of Black was the most senior of the three Justices within the House of Black, though she had not heard of a Justice from her House ever bothering to hold court within the Garden. Such a thing was needlessly troubling when so little attention was paid to the denizens who dwelt there. The House made it a point to maintain their regular distance from the pointless toils frequenting the worlds. It was the responsibility of the Justice of Black to attend to such matters which required the Assembly of the Houses to convene. The Assembly was the supreme court constructed by the respective Justices of each House, matters involving the whole of the Garden were reviewed between them, in addition to handling the trials of entities whose influence or crimes could carry similar impact; such as other L'Dalharen. The whole of the spectacle before her was truly beyond explanation. [Stella | Knowledge (Abstract) - Partial]

The Pale Bride was an important part of Vet'Cnros faith and culture, perhaps some of the oldest of the Teachings revolved around her figure. Folklore explained the distance the House of Black took in the Three Worlds with the Pale Bride. According to the old tales, it was because the Pale Bride projected the Mother of the Black Veil's will into the threads of the Weave that no further intervention was required by the House. However, the Pale Bride represented something far greater in the faith. She was the mouthpiece of the Mother's will, guide to the faithful, and the final Judge before passing to Quortek V'dre. Indeed, hers was the strongest and most deeply rooted influence upon the Garden which the House possessed, and hers was the only word which overruled the Justice of Black, other than Lady Black's or the Mother of the Black Veil herself, but in matters regarding the judgement of passing souls, there existed no higher authority; that entitlement belonged to herself alone. Because of the zeal she inspired, born of both awe and fear, the presence of Veil Witches was oft marked with the discovery of drowned children. Faithful followers held no higher objective than in securing an aspect of the Pale Bride to assure their favor and her blessing before passing into the Warren. The strength of a Veil Witch was largely tied to the strength of the bond between them and the Bride, fueling their fervor even further. To many Vet'Cnros there was no other deity with which they should concern themselves with other than her, and thus they sought appropriate vessels which the Pale Bride could inhabit.

A divine vessel could be created artificially, or found, but most Witches preferred to attempt to manufacture one themselves. Young human girls whom had not seen their thirteenth year, and drowned, could become such a vessel, but the occurrence was an immensely rare thing. Many things dictated the likelihood of the Pale Bride's interest in inhabiting such a sacrifice. The beauty, purity and condition of the body was of course the most paramount, but not the only factors. The flesh could show no physical harm; no bruising nor marring of the skin, or the sacrifice would be ruined. Some powerful Vet'Cnros claimed that sacred rituals to bless and make the sacrifice sacred aided the effort. Other claimed that the beauty of the child was most critical, and there might have been some weight in the claim, as some Witches had succeeded even with mixed-blooded children, such as half-elves. It was a tricky business which most successful accomplished with the aid of a Teller. After a child had been appropriately smothered, it would take days before the result was revealed. The body needed to be guarded and observed; if no rot or bloat befouled the corpse after the first week, then the ritual had succeeded. Afterwards the body would be moved and the true work could begin. It was the first true labor undertaken by Vet'Cnros whom were growing beyond the limitations of the classroom-magics they'd learned from classes and stolen old books. Whatever the Pale Brides true purpose, it was an undeniable fact that a Veil Witch could not become anything without two important things. A Circle of Black, and a Vessel for the Pale Bride. [Stella | Knowledge (Abstract) - Success]

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

Alicia's words were cut short part-way while recounting the list of names she had heard when she reached the Hexe Cross. A stillness seemed to choke the air. A pause. In that moment of motionlessness, she was mute like the world about her. Black. Slow. The sounds, long ago spoken and filtered, now seemed to stumble out of her mouth in an accelerated incomprehensible jumble of words. It was as if time were trying to catch up. Like a lag in her present time and the moments the world had chosen to omit. The Witness scowled in visible disgust at the Witch, "Surely you don't intend to allow this one to remain after that display? What more evidence do you require?" The Justice casually lifted a hand to dismiss the remark, "I remind the Witness to remind silent until such a time they care called upon." Caus'fel discreetly elbowed the Enforcer in the side to quiet any more offhand comments and sparing him further embarrassment.

"Stella Astral. Your words have been heard. Before judgement is received, you would do well to listen. While many factors contributed towards your presence here today, it is beyond evident that your ignorance and wanton disregard of the potential impact your actions might possess lays at the center of these many alleged crimes. This magic you are allowed to use is not an entitlement, it is a gift. One that comes with a responsibility, as it does to each soul whom shares it. It is not only the expectation, but also the duty of each Witch to educate themselves as appropriate and relevant to the tasks at hand." The Justice of Black sharply snapped down her long black cane to the dark polished surface of the floor with a sharp 'clack', as if it were a gavel. Magister Astral, you have been found guilty on all charges. Ignorance does not excuse you from the law of this world or your House. Moreover, your carelessness in venturing to harness forces which you both do not understand, and are incapable of controlling, is inexcusable. Intolerable, and such a blunder which brings discredit to your House above all else." The last words seemed to suggest a familiar theme shared among Witches; failure was criminal, but success was Justice. Perhaps that was a concept even more paramount here, where prowess could be attributed as the might of a House, rather than an individual. "If it were my choice, it would be the ruling of this court to surrender you to the Enforcers of the House of the First so that they might issue whatever punishment deemed appropriate for the grievances you have sown within the Garden." The Witness, Halja was nodding in approval, which slowed then stopped as the Justice went on.

"However." The steely Enforcer went rigid, sensing the change of pace in words. "It is not within the power of this court to do so." Alicia could have sworn she saw the Witness snort steam from her nose in her hardly disguised rage. "According to your testimony, and the report which I have received. Your travel was provided by the Teller, whom acquired permission from the Pale Bride before crossing. Furthermore, the individual whom your actions have caused damage directly, the Keeper of the Wild Dark, has chosen not to pursue formal charges... but resolve this matter over non-judicial proceedings." The red fluster filling the L'Dalharen's face now reached her ears, until she finally exploded in a fury. "HOW DARE YOU! THE HOUSE WILL NOT FORGET YOUR SLEIGHT, JUSTICE!" There was no sound, nor light. After she spoke, she was simply no longer present. Caus'fel did poorly trying to smother his smirk. "Your honor, it appears the Witness is no longer in attendance. I believe we can forego the formalities."

"So it appears." The dull brown of the Justice's gaze scrolled back over to Alicia. "While I apologize for the theatrics of the exchange, the charges presented are very real. As you are aware, our House holds a very conservative presence within the Garden, thus the actions themself are of no consequence to us. However, recent circumstances have changed things. The House of the First, whom controls nearly all aspects of the Garden has become aware of you. It was simply fortunate that the damage you've caused was to our own property-"

"Fortunate? ......I wonder." The slow flighty words which interrupted the Justice sounded from somewhere below. Alicia could see barely the lip of the large circular platform into the bleak waters below. An eerie Witch floated above the murky tides, looming down over a white-gowned corpse lapping in the soft waves. "Fortunate for the accused perhaps. Their House will likely be far less tolerant of your meddling now, Magister. If you disrupt their work in such an evident way again, they will likely attempt to force you to trail within their own court to redeem today's embarrassment. Trail in a foreign House is only legal when agreed upon by the defendant and no other option is available, though I doubt they would care." "Indeed.... Any trick. Or any means, will suffice. For revenge." The Witch from below slowly rose up from the gloomy depths. "I am the Keeper of the Wild Dark. The Witch of Jun'athel... Gran Hexe B'Belka'tevel. You must be.... The idiot. A resourceful idiot. To be sure. Even by mistake... To make it. As far as L'Chandal. Tis quite a feat."

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The Gran Hexe seemed to drift through the air, constantly held aloft by some unseen force accompanied by a deeply colored blot of dark mist. The woman was evidently a Veil Witch by her garb and presence within the court, though she had not heard of a current Gran Hexe whom was Vet'Cnros other than Gran Hexe Gehlaava. The Hexe held a lifeless bland gaze devoid of emotion, just as her words. Her clothes were shredded and torn, and while her skin was an unnatural porcelain sheen her unsettling aura made her anything but beautiful. Alicia noticed the pupils of the woman's eyes never changed, making her appear to be looking off somewhere in the distance, forever. "As the Justice. Has said. Your fate. Now belongs to me. Until... such a time. I deem appropriate. Your master. Is the Keeper. Of the Wild Dark. You will work. For me. You will. Fix. Any damages caused. To my property. And... Tend to what tasks. I assign you. In turn. I will educate you... So that you. Do not repeat... Your mistake."

The Justice nodded, seeming satisfied with the resolution. "It appears things are in order here. Despite her nonplussed state of mind, do remember she is still a Magister of our House. Ensure she can function as such before discarding this service. It may be wise to speak with the Nightmare King if you intend to have her with within the Veil." "Of course. Though. Much lay... Before that." Caus'fel clapped his hands together, "Fair enough. It looks like this is handled, so I'll be leaving first." While turning away from the gathering he pointed back at Alicia, "I don't want to see you again til you reach Quortek V'dre, Magister. Stay out of trouble!" As the Enforcer walked off his form darkened and faded with each step until he was simply absent. "We need. More Enforcers. Like him."

Placing a hand on Alicia's shoulder the Justice gestured at the Keeper. "She might be dour, and somewhat unpleasant, but you can trust her. It was the Keeper who got you out of this mess, and she's your kin. Not a Witch of Duvan, but a true Veil Witch. A Gran Hexe appointed by the Lady Black. There aren't very many of her like left outside the fields of the Warren. That same recognition was never afforded to you as the Black Magister, consider that. Learn what you can, but take greater care. Change is coming. Change of a dire nature. You will not survive it least you grow wise and embolden what resources you've available... I'm sure we will meet again. Farewell."

The Justice similarly faded away in a manner similar to the Enforcer, leaving only the two Witches. Stella might not have been the wisest witch in the wardrobe, but she could understand that she had inadvertently gotten her own House tied up in some dispute revolving around her. That had now brought negative attention, attention she couldn't afford to have on her back. Not long ago her only concern was being discovered and exploited by malicious Witches of Duvan who might capture and utilize her for their own gains... Now she was caught between what could be called a dispute between two pantheons of deities whom governed the three multiverses which comprised reality. It was as severe a shift as was conceivably possible. Things were getting out of hand far too quickly... At the very least, it appeared she had acquired an instructor of a sort. Her mind tried to put the fact that she had become a slave for some unspecified amount of time behind that significant development.

The Gran Hexe signed, producing a black wand from the mist. The weapon shifted and elongated into a long rod which shed a gleam of purple light from the crystalline skull fitted upon its end. "So. You're.... Adessa's apprentice. Are you not? I assume. You remember. Arborization magic?"

---

Main Quest: The Wild Dark - Dreaming, The Nightmare King
A narrow escape from the plotting of the House of the First has only revealed an infighting between the L'Dalharen, with Alicia in the center of the conflict. Sentenced unto servitude, the Witch of Jun'athel now guides them forward unto the unknown to seek audience with the Nightmare King.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective:
- Acquire Arborization
- Depart L'Chandal
- Escort The Keeper, Gran Hexe B'Belka'tevel

---

---

Main Quest: Bistala Civil War, Part 1: The Witch, The Key & The Song (Suspended)
The Bista Athi'Z'hin people are divided. Clan against clan squabbles with one another, while the children raise up a cursed hero who has returned from the depths of the universe with tales and lessons. Bitterness is sown as the Faxtin influence slowly choking their lives, and new ideas begin to emerge, lighting fires through the rigid and ancient society. A shadow looms behind the flames of discontent and tempers boil and conflict seems inevitable.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective:
- Befriend a Bista Athi'Z'hin & learn more of the 'hero', Klee'Re-Po'Pala
- Learn more from the last of the First Weavers
- Journey to the Shadowkind's realm, Jun'athel
- Find the Olath'Uss; Erraba Chel, the Twice Risen
Alternate Objective:
- Tracking the Bista Wanderer - Complete
- Locate The Grim of Jun'athel & break into the World Veil
- Find another way into the World Veil

---

Spoiler: Rewards | EXP

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֍ Stella XP +900 (164,300xp)
⯎ Sovereignty Influence Gained
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Liberation Influence Gained
⯎ Community Influence Gained
⯎ Discovery Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ Occult Influence Gained
⯎ Veil Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Nightmare Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Justice Influence Gained
⯎ Memory Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Faith Influence Gained
⯎ Ascension Influence Gained
⯎ Guilt Influence Gained
⯎ Hated Influence Gained
⯎ Subservient Influence Gained
⯎ Transcendent Influence Gained
⯎ Apprentice Influence Gained
⯎ Hexen History +200 (164,500xp)
⯎ Valby'oth, The Hidden Verse +300 (164,800xp)
⯎ Compulsion +200 (165,000xp)
⯎ Caus'fel +400 (165,400xp)
⯎ Enforcer's Sister Mystery +200 (165,600xp)
⯎ Joint-Reflections Mystery +200 (165,800xp)
⯎ Enforcers +300 (166,100xp)
⯎ The Wild Dark +300 (166,400xp)
⯎ Crimson Plane Mystery +200 (166,600xp)
⯎ The Black Conclave +300 (166,900xp)
⯎ Intangible Magical Constructs +200 (167,100xp)
⯎ Chambered Associations +200 (167,300xp)
⯎ Black Magister +200 (167,500xp)
⯎ Judge Mystery +200 (167,700xp)
⯎ Thing Long Forgotten +400 (168,100xp)
⯎ Bonus Experience, Prologue +1,000 (169,100xp)
⯎ Talri'fel, The Mourning & Light +500 (169,600xp)
⯎ Halja'fel +200 (169,800xp)
⯎ Justice of Black +500 (170,300xp)
⯎ The Soul Warren, Quortek V'dre +1,000 (171,300xp)
⯎ Transcendence - L'Chandal, The Crucible +8,000 (179,300xp)
⯎ Acquired [Strange Item]
✦ Corrupted Fate (Ra'Dolfaal)
⯎ Gem of Telepathy: 3/5 Charges, 3 min duration - Identified use with UMD

SpellWeaving:
Successfully casting a Spellweave costs the Witch a number of focus points equal to Spell Level + 1.
The Witch may attempt a number of Spellweaving Checks per day equal to her Aptitude.

Alicia HP: 8 (13) / 22
Istrei'D'Val Barrier: 450/450
Focus: 27/28
Mana: 1/10
Reputation: 25
Memory: 3
Spite: 1
Honor: 311
SV. Exp: 2 (Severance)
Weave Exp: 175
Veil Exp: 1,000

Spoiler: The Reflected Alter

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Praying at the alter requires a Spell Focus check and 1d8 hours of uninterrupted meditation to establish a connection with the herald. Alicia receives no way of judging the success or failure of her attempt. Cumulative penalties are applies for very 4 hours of meditation taken from loosing focus over a prologed period of time. These penalties stack with conditions accrued from other sources such as starvation or dehydration.

Spoiler: Alicia Kelgore - Conflicted Mind

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Alicia and Stella must maintain a constant state of balance to stay in harmony with one another, however doing this is not a simple task as the Veil evolves. Alicia will progressively shift in alignment as the Veil grows and the two personalities shift further and further apart from one another, prompted by various Spell Focus checks while both performing magic and having new experiences which the Veil attempts to adapt into the persona's fabricated history. Furthermore the Veil is capable of enforcing its own canonical history as if by means of a Divergence. At the beginning and end of each day both persona's must make an opposed spell focus check, granting advantage to the victor for the next 8 hours. The persona with advantage gains a +5 circumstance bonus to all other checks against the other identity. If Stella begins to fail more and more checks her control of Alicia will begin to diminish, introducing new influences or opposing actions which she must succeed an ego check to interrupt. Further effects from the Veil may be acquired from constant failed checks. This Veil may be dismissed by revisiting the mirror and spending 1 minute in meditation.

[Deadguy]

Regina
Ghost in the Machine

Regina stood from where she had been laying. Closing her eyes, she attempted to reconcile the visions she had witnessed, experienced fully, as if she were there, with the history of the world she knew. It also gave her a moment to run a diagnostic on her own body. It seemed like she had not been within the machine for ages. It made her feel safe, secure, grounded. Those feelings were few and far between since being taken from that cell.

After a few moments of combing through her data files, the focus came back to the present. She was outside at least. Possibly better than being trapped in the prison, though her out of body experience had also been outside. She looked up to the sky, searching for any astronomical signs that might tell her where and when she was currently. As the others stirred, she focused on her body, forcing the fabricated flesh to resume it's worldly appearance. It would not do to draw suspicion from those that would have been captives of Willowbrook.

Regina's movements were slow and careful at first. While it felt correct, there was no telling. The brief jaunt into the depths of madness and confusion within the cells had made her far more cautious. She pondered how her would-be Uncle Matik was connected to those visions, wondering if his current state would have put him at immediate odds with the icy Lady Alice. Was she even still alive? Magnimar. Had it fallen completely?

All of this could wait. Answers could be sought in earnest now that she was free of that place. If she was truly free. Was she able to cross as Iman had shown her when outside such a place? Dare she risk it? No. Not yet.

Spoiler: OOC

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Knowledge (History) vs vision names / locations (1d20+22)[40]
Knowledge (Technology) vs operational body (1d20+36)[55]
Knowledge (Geography) vs current location (1d20+17)[34]
Disguise vs Mayli appearance (1d20+15)[24]
Perception vs surroundings (1d20+22)[23]
Knowledge (Nobility) vs family connection to Magnimar (1d20+17)[28]
Spellcraft vs Aspecting outside of Tainted Regions (1d20+18)[37]

[Mornings]

With all haste Walt tore his way up the wall with powerful movements to put the terror of the waters he'd departed as far as possible. Beneath his hands he could feel the upturned floor begin to shake and rattle... something was coming.

For the briefest of moments the hall seemed to flare to life. A burst of flame engulfed a narrow span of the hall and the shadow of some horrid black molten beast flickered into reality, thrashing its skull-like face and bellowing its terrible flaming cry. Caught in some indescribable battle, the blade of some dark haired knight rung from the impact of a thundering blow. The sudden whirl of inferno sent Erik diving off to the side, catching hold and continuing his assent despite the protest of his tiring limbs.

Kazik, with an unparalleled grace pull himself up and skipped a few steps along the wall in a brief vertical run through the sudden ignition of dancing fire and a kick off from the molten stone sent him hurtling towards his destination. The mad gambit brought him crashing just through the entrance of the nearest room... where an unlikely sight greated him.

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

"Professor... There's no way out." The knight standing further inside the room dropped her shattered helmet to the floor, discarding the broken thing. The tall older man who leaned down to tend to the massive laceration running through her black hair appeared all the more imposing by the woman's diminutive stature. "Dr. Eldborogh built this place to trap this nightmare within. It wasn't intended for things to leave..." The dame flinched as the tall man pressed the two hewn sides of skin back together and applied a adhesive balm to knit the bloody flesh back together. "I don't understand, Ms. Sparrow and Kas'Llyn remained above in the corrupted reaches." The Professor paused to examine his work before wiping the dampness from his hands on a handkerchief. He spoke while cleaning out the blood beginning to dry beneath his fingernails. "The seals within this place react to sites of corruption and other taint. Meddling in such a way that these safeguards might be compromised likely results in being treated as such a blight yourself. Remaining too long will change you, but no one can be sure just just how long is 'long', and just what kinds of change might take hold. Perhaps we've already been corrupted and we would be better spending the rest of eternity here..." The knight's face flustered, "Professor!"

The man rocked his head back with a laugh, "I know, I know. Fear not, young lady. I worked out the intricacies of our daring venture from this terrible place long before we even fell to. The doctor called that horrid ebon thing a 'Nightmare'. I figured this might be somewhat more literal, and that this place... while stable, might operate similarly to some manner of dreamscape. I believe at least to some degree, that I might not be too far from the mark." The woman begun tightening the loosened fittings of her platemail with a frown on her face, evidently not exactly sure where his conjecture was attempting to navigate the conversation. "Professor Cross, I am not one of your students. In plain words... please." The older man cleared his throat, "There is a series of... lets call them 'gates'. To other instances of, ehm. We'll just call them 'dreams', where these 'nightmares' dwell, and through them, traverse these dreamscapes. From what I gathered, there is an ascending order to the madness, but the longer we remain idle, the more dire our circumstances becomes. Now this is just my own theory, one of many... But I believe something is trying to pull us to these lower dreamscapes. That... or perhaps our presence slowly degrades its fastness as a realm. Regardless, we will need to move quickly towards the next chamber. I believe there, we will find this 'gate'." The young knight swept her dirty hair from her face and loosely tied it as best she could with a dirty piece of cloth, yet the grime made the tie slowly work its way down as she prepared herself to resume the climb. "Okay. Get in the room, find the gate. Kill the bad guys. Remind me to never come out on one of these 'surveys' again."

Kazik watched on as the pair turned toward him, revealing faces obscured by terrible twisting black lines, as if some god actively scribbled across their features to obscure their visage. The woman walked forward before skipping across various boxes and furniture firmly held to the lopsided world, then abruptly vanished like a dark mist. The older man stroked his scrubby patch of a beard on his chin. "You..." The Professor's gaze locked with his own masked eyes unflinchingly. "You probably don't know me, do you? No, I don't think we've ever met... My name is Kendal G. Cross. A professor and something of an authority in matters related to the occult for the Palatine Council. Whoever you are, I'm sure you'll be here... one day. If you are... If you're here, were we were. Then... gods preserve us." The man buried his head in his hand as if to steady his racing mind, "Then I suppose we escaped from this stage at least... but maybe, this isn't a 'prison'. At least not this place. Maybe it all is... everything. Cycles, frozen and displaced, repeated until the objective is achieved... an objective. I don't know... Maybe I'm just rambling to myself, maybe... you... Whoever, you might be, aren't even real. But.."

He paused, looking back up towards the door with a fire chiseled into his features. "You. Whoever you are. If you're real. If you really are here. You have to free us... everyone. Not from this prison. No, not from Willowbrook... The Sanitarium is the key. You must free us from this simulacrum... this effigy of the world we knew. It's not real. You... us. We're all trapped. We're sealed inside... And, as it would happen. If you exist, then you're all the proof I need. Proof that Mayvert was right. If you do hear this... you must find her. Find her before it finds you. If this madness is real, then this construct.... this mind prison, is self correcting and ruled by some horrid creation which will know... It will know you received my warning. It will know you were here... and it will never stop until you have been dealt with. Likely returned to the beginning of your own cycle..." The professor paced as he frantically ranted, "You... You're our only hope. If this is real, I'll never know, but you... You'll know. I still think Eldborogh and Mayvert are batsheit-mad, but this place... and the similarity of their lunacy is beyond mere coincidence. You need to go now!" The man pointed out the door, yelling at Kazik before sharply jolting out in a clear reversal to halt. "Wait! Wait, wait... First you should know, because names command so much influence. They called this creature, the Tindalos Stalker." With those final words, the masked man watched the Professor vanish into mist... but he could feel it inside. The sudden shift in awareness, and a sense of alarm which followed.

---

Global Quest: Waking, The Nightmare Out Of Crooked Eons
Caught within an endless cycle of death and suffering the words of a stranger begin to reveal the implications of a truth more horrid than anything they could have ever imagined.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Potential Advancement | Time: 3/3 Rounds

⯎ Primary Objective (1): Escape the Tindalos Stalker. The Stalker will hunt for anomalies after a random period of time. Evade the Stalker until it returns to its nightmarish domain... but the beast most certainly will return.
⯎ Primary Objective (2): Locate Professor Mayvert and a method to stop the Tindalos Stalker.

---

Spoiler: Collapse, Stage 1 - Surviving A Crumbling Reality

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Collapse can be caused by numerous things, and while the event is seen as exclusive to Tainted Land - it isn't. Escaping from regions in a state of Collapse is always a top priority. In some cases being swept up by such a phenomenon can sweep up players and bring them to strange new places... However, typically, and far more frequently... It's just the end. Collapse begins by a failed Regional Stability check and quickly escalates until the whole of the effected zone is utterly destroyed, or left in a state no longer recognizable. As the taint slowly expands over the years, the threat of the world turning into swiss-cheese will leer its ugly head and force even the everyday citizens of the world to face the reality that is the coming apocalypse.

Falling into the void here spells your immediate death - there's no crawling out of that fall. Now that the instance has decided to murder itself, players will need to expeditiously get the hell out of here - or rather, flee as far as possible until the clock ticks down. Fortunately, as this is the tutorial, there is a maximum distance the collapse can cover - however in a real event, you'll need to rely on every team-member, contingency and preparation you've taken to escape a Sector with the utmost urgency, as the entire map may effectively be 'erased'. Being caught in such a circumstance while exploring tainted regions is bad, and also means a great deal of 'red flags' were missed on the way up to that critical state. Collapse within a Sector is always much quicker than other forms which might be experienced, and are typically just not good things that you want to avoid. Numerous tools, devices and effects exist which can help further the likelihood of survival for those experiencing such a dangerous encounter. Additionally the effects caused by a Collapse aren't necessarily permanent, and can be reversed with some effort, the effectiveness of such an event varies by the mode in which it's accomplished.

Spoiler: Spite, Brands and Scorn, Oh My!

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There exist numerous forces and energies which represent the level of attention or Malice a player has acquired from the Fates and the greater forces of the multiverse, such as the L'Dalharen. Spite is a universal pool of energy shared by all players currently in the game. A single player cannot receive greater than 100 points of spite, but the pool across all players in the game is jointly 100 points. If one player possesses 80 points of spite, another player cannot also possess 40 points. This distribution is unrelated to circumstance, position or environment (yes, even if you're in another 'universe'). Various thresholds of acquired Spite, depending on the method of how it was acquired, can inflict crippling effects. Some Potentials utilize Spite as a resource for various functions, but such abilities should be utilized with care. When Spite among the total number of players reaches a maximum, the player which has possessed the highest sum among the non-gaining members the longest looses an applicable amount of Spite, passing it to gaining players.

Brands are a resource and curse applied by Fates, or their derivatives such as Greater Spirits (Relicuum and Praeter) for favors and services. Upon gaining a Brand, Spite cannot be lost or utilized, but is still reduced when the total Spite pool amongst the players has reached its max. However, unlike normal redistribution, Branded players are always considered on the bottom of the list of applicable players when determining where Spite must be taken from. A Branded player cannot have their Spite value reduced below 10 while other non-branded players possess Spite, and their total Spite value cannot be decreased to 0 even if that would result in other players gaining 0 Spite themselves. Players who cannot receive Spite always receive a Brand instead.

Scorn is a greater form of Spite, representing a hatred from the governing powers of the multiverse for imbalances and perversions a player has introduced to a universe. This resource is not easily earned and is usually associated with large and significant alterations which radically alter the flow of the game. This level of change is usually something drastic, with effects easily seen by all players. Intentional intervention is required to earn Scorn and create the radical results associated with it, unlike Spite. A player may only possess a maximum of 10 points of Scorn without the associated Potentials. While severe effects are usually inflicted for each point of Scorn gained, reaching the character's maximum value will often result in their destruction. This resource is utilized by a handful of unique abilities and mythic Potentials.

Spoiler: Death from the Second World

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A great deal of powerful otherworldly effects and forces exist out there - because they're actually from another world. Strange and foreign, these powers can inflict levels of severe punishment not normally seen in typical powers and abilities. Severance is such an example.

Safeguarded by the fearsome and secretive Coven of the Nightmare Witches of E'Spdon Valdruk, Severance is a school of magic which shares its name with a violent and natural energy deep within the roots of the universe, though its use has been largely long forgotten in the Second World. The crippling magics woven with such forces by the abominable entities beyond sow horrid annihilating waves of death in your world, obliterating life and natural matter even from the slightest exposure. Severance effects always Wound. They are one of many effects which gain the benefit of various Potentials or unique features when utilized in such a fashion. Like many unique effects, a unique check or save is required to resist it - in this case the unique skill is 'Spell Focus'. Some effects allow a higher DC save for creatures without the applicable unique skill or save, while others grant no save against creatures without the associated resistance. Being exposed to such a force often grants the associated Influences to gain related Potentials, though other routes exist to accomplish the same thing. Additionally, various properties, tools and equipment exists to further defend against these countless unnatural threats.

Spoiler: Veilbeasts - Cursed Wounds

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The harm inflicted by a Veilbeast is rarely a physical one. Some creatures harm both the body, and the psyche of those who sustain such an injury, but regardless of the method, all such wounds are cursed. Being wounded by a Veilbeast, no matter the size or severity, is almost certainly a death-sentence for a Gale. The curses which these creatures deliver slowly tear bodies apart, or even rend the spirit in manners which are mysterious and not understood. Cures which are discovered are often withheld and treated with the highest level of value and secrecy, placing the power of life and death in the hands of the few. Each Curse possesses an individual and unique remedy specific to itself. Some are easier to treat than others, where simple guesswork might suffice. While others are immensely complex; relying on recovered manuals, secret words and regents, amongst other various components. Those wounded by such a curse are immediately discarded in younger, less-experienced companies, while veterans groups often keep records of learned secret cures complied in their leader's manual. This knowledge is often leveraged against the wounded and dying to acquire additional time under their enlistment, or other resources. The Surveyor Corps offered remedies freely as a public service, but what cures they possessed was often extremely limited due to their charitable nature.

Common holders of cures for curies included high-ranking Gales, veteran Harriers, Black-Healers, and of course... 'Witches'.
Weiss was known to have been in possession of a large number of cures for such blights, long before she became a Gale. Her reputation served as some manner of example to substantiate the belief, and that expectation had similarly extended to any and all 'witches'. There were more than a few accounts of such individuals being capable of purging the blight from a Veilbeast-wound, but where you would find such a person belonging to a practice which had been driven underground... Well, that was anyone's guess.

Spoiler: Resisting - Dragged Down

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The cursed and blighted black creatures are attempting to drag you down into the waters far below. Should they prevail, it would surely be the end of you.

The creatures are attempting to grapple you. Upon a successful grapple, you must succeed a strength check to maintain your hold on the wall each round. For each successful creature grappling a new strength check must be passed, increasing in difficulty. The DC of this check is 10 and increases by 2 for each creature in a grapple with you. Every round after the first they have maintained their grapple, these creatures can attempt to utilize their 'drag down' ability, forcing an additional reflex save vs falling. Breaking a grapple is a move action rather than a standard action. Each of these creatures provokes an attack of opportunity when they attempt to grapple you. If you are considered armed and are considered to be threatening a space, you may make your attacks before taking your strength checks.

Spoiler: Enviromental Effect: Surviving the Dark Waters

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Tainted lands are horrendous places filled with strange and exotic new ways to die. The environmental threats in these areas are often far more fatal than the few bouts of combat which may be encountered. The mysterious Dark Water from your vision has been made manifest, and it rapidly drains away the life energy which binds you to existence. Each round in contact with the quickly rising water deals nonlethal damage. The damage suffered is doubled each subsequent round, threatening to consume you.

✦ Consumed: If a character falls unconscious in the Dark Water, they immediately begin to drown (no save). Other characters can attempt to jump in and save you, but will be unlikely to escape themselves.
✦ Crippling Waters: If a character takes an amount of nonlethal damage equal to double his constitution score, he becomes fatigued for 1d4 rounds.
✦ Threatened: You may not take 10 on any check.
⯎ Climbing Out: Character's must succeed a DC10 climb check to move 5ft. Additional distance may be traveled, not to exceed your base movement speed, by succeeding consecutive climb checks for every 5ft. The DC of each check after the first increases by 3. Climbing gear, such as pitons, grapples, and rope can greatly assist in moving faster. If using rope to climb, this movement is performed normally. Creatures with a climb speed may climb as normal. Pitons may be planted and affixed to a safety line at a location to prevent falling from height excess heights. This is a standard action. If a creature fails their climb check by 5 or more, they fall.
⯎ Catching Hold: If there are fixtures adjacent to you when falling, you may attempt a reflex save (DC10 + amount climb check failed by), to grab hold of an item nearby. This may also be done when falling past a potential handhold, or another player. Similarly, this DC may be attempted by a PC in-line with the creature's fall to attempt a catch. After catching a falling creature in this way, the PC must succeed a DC13 strength check or begin falling as well.
⯎ Swimming: Creatures must succeed a DC10 swim check to stay on the surface of the water each round, or begin sinking at a rate of 10 feet per round. Creatures below the surface of the water must succeed a swim check in the same manner as climbing; attempting subsequent checks every 5ft.
⯎ Aiding Another: Characters may spend a standard action to use the Aid Another action, granting a +4 bonus to another a single skill check another creature attempts.
⯎ Extra Effort: If a creature takes a second move action, the DCs of his climb and swim checks reset for that movement. A creature who performs this action a number of times equal to double his constitution modifier must succeed a DC15 fortitude save. Each additional time this ability is used thereafter, the DC of his save increases by 1.
⯎ Recovered: Characters are no longer suffering from any negative effects of their imprisonment and regain full movement speed. (You normally will not recover from negative effects accrued in tainted regions, even over time; leading to your inevitable demise. Learn from this experience, as small issues such as status conditions can all but assure a failed dive. A number of resources and contingencies exist to better your chances of coming back out again.)

Spoiler: Divergence - Influencing the World

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Divergence is a strange phenomenon most ironically experienced by a brief state of non-existence. The changes experienced thereafter are often incredibly radical. Main-Quests are almost always lost if players Diverge before completing their current tasks. Divergence can be both beneficial or crippling, but can always be reversed in some fashion. However, Divergence can only be reversed in the order in which they occurred; meaning, if a player were to Diverge three-times, the first Divergence could not be changed until all subsequent Divergence were negated. Diverging multiple times can make changes you have experienced, influenced, or created, near-permanent by extension. Meddling in otherworldly affairs greatly increases the likelihood of Diverging, however other forces can cause this as well, including player-actions.

A number of unique, but virtually unknown protections and contingencies exist to combat and control this phenomenon. Many unique realms and universes beyond can only be accessed via Divergence, and some abilities can create powerful desirable-effects to bolster players. However, wild, uncontrolled instances of this spectacle can quickly lead to a tragic fate. Surviving the mysterious threats of the Night and influencing the fabric of reality for your benefit will require careful attention paid to the current state of the world, and detecting early signs of such negative influences before they can spin out of control.

Spoiler: Influences

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Influences represent current knowledge, pursuits, training, experiences and aspirations which are actively effecting or being utilized by a character. These represent various concepts and begin to outline a character's values and path as they grow. Influences which are not used regularly are lost, but can be gained again once a character begins pursuing an avenue related towards that field or concept. Influences determine a character's growth in many ways, including experience points they earn and which Potentials they can acquire at any given time.

Unlike with limited class levels, Influences are not acquired spontaneously, and are acquired throughout play; creating an active system which enables a character to re-train, gain new powers, or even improve upon old ones actively with their in-character actions. Training with a sword or exercising the use of an existing Potential allows a character to learn new techniques, empower his current abilities, or even grow his tolerance to pain, sustain damage, run faster, sleep less, and more. Influences play a vital role in developing more sophisticated interpersonal skills and ability to deal and establish diplomatic relations with all manner of strange and otherworldly creatures which you may encounter; in addition to learning more about the unnatural forces which no worldly knowledge could shed light upon. All unique skills are only able to be acquired via potentials, which are trained and worked towards acquiring via your pursuits, experiences, and by extension - your Influences.

Spoiler: Point: 323 - Willowbrook Sanitarium, F3A (About Tainted Lands)

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Tainted Lands are incredibly complex and foreign realms which are often guised as places once familiar. Each tainted region is individually unique and carries with it its own risks, rules, threats and worldly hazards. Many things cannot function, work differently, or can lead to reality crushing results that make survival for most creatures delving into their reaches an impossibility. Site Investigators often travel with groups of Harriers or Gales for long extended periods conducting a through survey of each corrupted-site, known as a 'Point'. These reports are used by various venturing companies to conduct expeditions, known as 'Dives', into the tainted lands. Points are always geographically divided into many areas known as 'Sectors' by Site Investigators. Sectors within a Point mark areas where the rules of the other areas which have been surveyed dramatically differ, be that the laws of nature or magic, or even stranger changes they cannot fully understand.

Common Sector 'rules' which Gales are familiar with include such things as; violent reactions to non-grounded magics, reactions to supernatural energies and abilities, reactions to specific materials, reactions to unstabilized magical creatures and creatures capable of withholding or generating energy, and items or persons keyed to a particular influence.

Fortunately there were not very many public users of magics due to the general fear and suspicion associated with the practice, and thus even less individuals with such talents that traveled into the tainted regions. Magic was an inherently suicidal thing to employ in such places without a remarkable understanding of the Point and all features of the rules which governed the Sector currently being occupied. Everything in a spell from the time it took to produce, to the school, effect, number of targets and even the manner in which the spell functioned were all individuals factors which could set off a dimensional-explosion and throw an entire team of unwitting mercenaries through a hole into Abadon; or worse. There was always worse, they just hadn't learned what that was yet; that was the first lesson tainted lands had to teach the fools which dared brave its depths. Wizards and magicians were generally less welcome by companies that ventured to such places, than they were by the general public. Unless the magician in question specialized in using his or her magic in such places, and possessed a record to back it, not even a fool would bring one along. There existed unique items called 'Grounds' which restrained and processed a magician's magic making it generally safe to use, but they were immensely expensive and built for each individual mage. Yet, more vexing was the matter that a single magician would often need multiple Grounds, as no single device was assured to provide every protection for every circumstance. Nor were they permanent fixtures. Like filters, they eventually spoiled and failed. At least the ones commercially available. The device's creator, the genius inventor Denil Demn could produce Grounds which would self-cleanse and restore themselves with time, but acquiring a commission from the man was a nightmare. If not because of the competition attempting to do the same, than because the craftsman was notoriously difficult to reach.

The degree of influence upon supernatural powers varied wildly, but was based on the level of corruption the tainted region possessed. In some of the worst places there were documented cases of Gales detonating in a bloody mess from simply employing internal forces to accelerate their speed and agility. Much like a monastic practitioner of martial arts, many Harriers preferred to learn to hone inner energies to aid themselves in conflict while Diving, but even this was not completely safe. During 'Deep Dives' companies outfitted their members with various equipment to maintain internal stability, but this was not something exclusive to the most foul of places. If the rules of a Sector were particularly twisted, it was possible to experience those same hazards without venturing into the belly of the beast.

Some materials or creatures didn't react well in tainted regions. The places were often so alien and foreign that not even animals could enter. Sometimes it wasn't just animals, it could be steel, or wood. Maybe iron. No one would know what all, if any may have been effected until a Site Investigator ran their exhaustive tests. Some of the most strange of places caused unnatural phenomena from things associated with a particular thing. Perhaps a cleric's symbol, or a deity's favored weapon, maybe the pages of a book. It was as if the world were possessed by some malicious spirit that remembered only the things related to what had wronged it. None of these places were necessarily good to ever venture, many Gales never bothered. Even putting the twisted spaces of reality aside, the Veilbeasts and other horrors were enough to convince any sane man to keep his distance. Veilplague had become nearly non-existent, but the corruption and curses which could be afflicted were a horrendous burden. If a man were blighted, he could not be allowed into a town or city. It was all one could do to simply pray that a green witch or other healing pariah might be able to mend them, as civil men would have no choice but to quarantine or kill the infected. There simply were no known cures for most maladies, at least not in the hands of the peoples at large. For most, death was assured.


Point: 323, F3A: Sector 1A - Regional Effects
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????

Spoiler: Status

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Environmental Effect
✦ Darkness: There is now absolute darkness throughout the chamber. Normal sight and low-light vision no longer function, you are blind. Darkvision functions normally.

֍ Erik +450 (3,200xp)
HP 20/37 (2 bleed)
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 3
⭍ [Cursed Wound] 2 Bleed, DC 22 Heal (full-round action)
⭍ [Wounding Curse] Fast Healing & Regeneration Disabled. Cannot Heal Grievous Wounds. Cannot Recover Hit-Points. Harms Others. Cure Unlearned.
AC 23
Extra Effort: 4/10
Spite: 2
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Fear Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Destiny Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Pain Influence Gained
⯎ Life Influence Gained
⯎ Struggle Influence Gained
⯎ Teamwork Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ The Tindalos Stalker +4,000xp (7,300xp)

֍ Kazik +450 (2,400xp)
HP 53/53
Shattering (HP Reduction): 5 (1+4)
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 3
⭍ [Severance: Dismembered, Corruption] The creature has lost its off-hand. The wound has shattered all the flesh blow the elbow, turning the skin to glass. (This lost limb will be restored upon exiting the room. Kazik may climb with one hand by succeeding a DC10 strength check for every 5ft of movement he makes.)
⭍ [Severance: Shattering, Corruption] The character's body is beginning to crumble and rapidly deteriorate into nothing more than a pile of dust. As the corruption wracks the victim, the creature's maximum hit points are reduced by 1d8 points each round until they escape the Sector. Current hit points in excess of its maximum are not retained as temporary hit points, but are instead lost. This is a form of damage, but it is not healed or resisted conventionally. (This Severance-effect, and the effects of 'Crippling Sorrow' are reversed upon escaping the room. Kazik's maximum hit points and wisdom score are returned to normal.)
AC 20
Extra Effort Used: 3/6
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Agility Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ History Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Attunement Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ The Tindalos Stalker +4,000xp (6,600xp)
⯎ Acquired [Black Dice x1]

֍ Walt +500 (1550xp)
HP 43/43
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 27 (3 + 6 + 18)
⭍ Status: [Fatigued]
AC 19
Extra Effort: 2/4
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Endurance Influence Gained
⯎ Recovery Influence Gained
⯎ Tactics Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Life Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Undeath Influence Gained
⯎ Strength Influence Gained
⯎ Teamwork Influence Gained
⯎ Victory Influence Gained
⯎ The Tindalos Stalker +4,000xp (5,550xp)

---

Main Quest: Dreaming, The Nightmare Beast
Something lingered and twisted their perceptions, their very reality. There was no past and present, only a fractured array of constantly shifting states of existence. All was real. All was now. It darkened the world, as if laid in shade beneath the looming hand of some omniscient mad god. Somewhere, someone elsewhere inside knew. That man could discern reality and see the dream for what it was. They had to escape before it consumed them, before all that was named true in their minds was pried from their broken hands, and devoured by some horrific nightmare. The visions... Everything. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be real.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: 1/8 Rounds
[/SIZE]Primary Objective: Survive.

---

[Stevesciguy]

Although the world was once again quiet aside from the rumbling of water below, Erik remained tightly coiled at his perch. After a moment passes, he slowly releases, gazing curiously at the translucent blue film that hung in the air in front of him. He touches it with one hand to confirm that it's solid, then promptly disregards it and resumes his climb.

"Everyone make it through the blast?"

Erik quickly glances side to side, ensuring that Walt and Kazik were still with him.

Eldborogh... that's the name we heard in the recording, the one whose wife changed. Did she become that thing we just saw, or is that just another of the beasts that populate these hellscapes?

He spoke of other patients, other doctors, of regular work. This place was normal until she was infected. Was she the seed that tainted it? Or - Cross said that Eldborogh built this place - did he infect it to contain her? Questions with no answers...

Erik lets out a low grunt - whether from pain, frustration, or both is anyone's guess.

"This place is closing in on us. The water, the collapse, and now this creature. We need to move, find this Mayvert he mentioned."

Spoiler: OoC

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Actions:
Swift: None this turn
Move: Climb
Standard: Extra Effort

Uses of Fervor left: 6/7
Rounds of Undead form: 4/19
Rounds of Shield: 2/40

Perception to look for bad guys: (1d20+7)[20]
Survival to check stability: (1d20+5)[13]
Sense Motive to see anything off about Cross: (1d20+7)[10]

Knowledge checks to see if Taldoris Stalker rings a bell:
Knowledge(Arcana)(max 10): (1d20+2)[14]
Knowledge(History)(max 10): (1d20+2)[18]

Climb Checks:
DC 10: (1d20+8)[13]
DC 13: (1d20+8)[11] fail, no fall
DC 16: (1d20+8)[20]

Extra Effort:
DC 10: (1d20+8)[19]
DC 13: (1d20+8)[23]
DC 16: (1d20+8)[22]

Erik will just climb straight up.

[Chromascope3D]

Kazik
The Hanging Men

Zon's Keep. If he had been expecting a ghost to assault him with words he would have just moved on. That professor? That woman? What did it matter to him? He just wanted out, and now he needed to find some other, presumably long-dead man? The injustice of it all almost made him laugh. A shadow crept into the corner of his vision. Bah. If there was one thing Kazik despised, it was being an errand boy; perhaps that was why he never got along with the pigwife. Monster hunting now, was it? Fine, he would go monster hunting.

The holy man turns about, ready to give himself a running start. He had gained a profound degree of confidence recently, from where he could not say, but was itching to make the fullest of it. He takes off, twisting through the open door frame and kicking off from the ledge beyond. Sailing across the vertical shaft, he lunges up the far wall. Upwards, upwards, with a level of skill he was sure he'd not had prior. Another laugh wells up from deep inside, but escapes only as a mere chuckle. He'd having far too much fun now to waste energy on that. One level up, he kicks off back across the corridor, extends his legs to land.

But there is no ground to meet them. It takes half a second for his mind to catch up to his body, his hands acting far too late as the ledge speeds past.

Ah, hubris.

Readying himself for a long descent into oblivion, Kazik is surprised as his hand, nay, his whole arm, is encompassed by another. Lord's above. This was his first time fully beholding Walt's new, monstrous form. Still, as he was set back on the flagstones, he realized that such was not so different from many of his own god's dark faithful. He chuckles, finding his grip back on the rocks, muttering to himself,

"So, bit more practice, I suppose..."

As Walt continues his own ascent, Kazik calls after him,

"Guess that evens our scores, aye, Gunman?"

Spoiler: OOC

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Technically his movement is H5 to H6 to E6 but I figured I'd have some fun with it :P

Copied from OOC ^{[1] [2] [3] [4]}: DC 10 (1d20+14)[25]. STR check (1d20+4)[21] | (1d20+4)[5]
DC 13 (1d20+14)[32]. STR check (1d20+4)[24] | (1d20+4)[8]
DC 16 (1d20+14)[34]. STR check (1d20+4)[6] | (1d20+4)[18]
DC 19 (1d20+14)[24]. STR check (1d20+4)[6] | (1d20+4)[5] Failure
DC 22 (1d20+14)[18] | *(1d20+14)[28]. STR check (1d20+4)[11] | (1d20+4)[21]
DC 25 (1d20+14)[18] | (1d20+14)[17], STR DC 10 (1d20+4)[8] | (1d20+4)[20] Failure 2x combo

DC 17 reflex to catch the ledge
(1d20+9)[13] | (1d20+9)[13] Incredible Failure 4x combo

DC 17 to catch onto Walt (I think)
(1d20+9)[17] | (1d20+9)[23]

Other skill checks
Sense Motive (1d20+10)[24]
K: Herstory (1d20+3)[17]
Survival (1d20+9)[18]
Perception (1d20+10)[15]

[forg99rules]

As he came to he began to look around at his surroundings, the cold that surrounded him threatening to enter his bones. A shiver went through his body as his mind began turning over the vision that had just played out in his mind. While he had only seen a part of it he still somehow knew the entirety of the story that had played out. Noticing the others stirring in the snow he quickly stood up and began to take inventory of his belongings hoping that everything was still there. "I'm not sure who any of you are, but do you have any idea of what just happened? I remember seeing some man that destroyed a giant shadow monster... I think he called himself Caus'fel, said he was an Enforcer of some sort. Then it was as if I was some Woman walking around in the cold, I had found some sort of light and when I touched it there was a vision of some sort. It's all sort of blurry and I honestly can't say that it was real. Hell, I can't even tell if this place is real." Looking around at the others it suddenly dawns on him that he had yet to introduce himself. "Ah, forgive me I forgot to introduce myself. I am Loimi Vaeltaja a traveler from Vyö, for reasons I have ended up here on Golarion and have been unable to return home. May I have your names?"

Spoiler: OOC

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Perception: (1d20+19)[23] - for the surroundings
Perception: (1d20+19)[20] - Checking to see what Items I still have on my person
Perception: (1d20+19)[31] - for the others that are in the snow with me

Know History: (1d20+15)[24] - Checking to see if I recognize the style of buildings
Know Local: (1d20+16)[27] - Checking to see if I recognize the style of buildings
Know Planes: (1d20+18)[38] - Checking to see if I think this is golarion or another plane of some sort

[Ancient]

"Oh, Seekers. Seekers. Hear me. You must. Leave this place. Find Astrok'Ru or the Renor'anon. They will lead you unto me. Now the only salvation lay in Quortek V'dre. I can protect you no longer."

Regina was the first to recover her senses. The daze which swept through her mind was numbing. It felt as if she had been suspended or held in stasis for centuries. Forced to watch some distant memory reply upon itself with no context or measure of what it all was supposed to mean. In the dream-state she was nothing. Simply an observer without the ability to make any difference at all, but now she was free... Free. Her attention circled about to her new circumstances and the familiarity of her own hands

The orc, Varag, stirred in the frost as the chill begun to steal the feeling from his arms. Perhaps there was a hell worse than the halls of Willowbrook, but it was a prison for the mind. The kind of chamber in which there was no true escape. He could only be thankful that at least he was no longer captured within a stranger's body. It felt like a simple thing, but recent events had proven otherwise. Simply being whom you are, within and throughout felt far more like a blessing. He wouldn't squander it.

As Loimi and Miryks came to and gathered their wits they noticed the strangers close by laying in the snow. Whatever manner of spell has ensnared them was concluded, but they noticed that a certain awareness imparted by it yet remained. The, something which oversaw it. The someone who conducted the motions and twists in existence. Though now seemed like a poor time to contemplate the mysteries of the universe. The fog which billowed through the snowy expanse wasn't insignificant, but at the very least man-made structures could be seen scattered around them. A welcome sight versus the endless forests and prison cells.

Varag
Half Mad Sage

---

The cold started to pierce his hide and it triggered an avalanche inside his mind. HOPE! HOPE! We must flee! we must RUN! The images, the EXPERIENCES, it was all so much, too much, Varag was drinking the lives of others, so MANY OTHERS like a man trying to drink from under a raging waterfall the torrent of BEING threatened to overcome him, to wash him away down a river of nothing BLACK AND RED. A scream like an animal within him stirred, a trapped frightened thing, a feral prisoner clawing its way up his throat to erupt into the snow and night...He clamped his hand firmly on his mouth, slamming the cell door on the pitiable thing.

BE STILL! His father would say. The spirits do not ride such skittish animals. Then, almost kindly, the old shaman instructed. Calm yourself, clear your mind and let the world flow into it. Do not fight what you see, it meerly IS, and it has little regard for what you have to say it is NOT. Then inevitably, a beating, and disappointment. Varag never learned to let the spirits ride, he was too stubborn of an ass to bear even the simplest of them, and here he was now, bearing the lives and deaths of spirits, men, gods, world, existence, and they did not give a damn what he had to say about it. It would BE. Hell had been losing his woman, his child. Hell had been Willowbrook and Tutor. Hell it seemed had layers, and if it did not have enough delights, why not the Hells of others? Still, must be ridden, or be BLACK, to witness the jumbled death throes of reality, or be NULL. Seven times, he filled his belly with precious sweet air and let it go, slowly, controlled, as his father the bastard had taught him.

Father
Caus'fel
Nelrin'fel
Astrok'Ru
Renor'anon
Quortek V'dre
Hope

Hope. He searched himself to see if she was still there. Certainly something some presence, feeling remained. Possibly, something was there. He would not permit himself to believe otherwise. She rode with him still and he would bear her to the end. He had lost everything, but he would not lose her. He sprang into a crouch, surveying his surroundings, the animal within was looking for escape once again. Time, Space, Consciousness, SELF, it all seemed so fluid, so fragile, he never felt so FREE, he never felt so trapped.

As he came to he began to look around at his surroundings, the cold that surrounded him threatening to enter his bones. A shiver went through his body as his mind began turning over the vision that had just played out in his mind. While he had only seen a part of it he still somehow knew the entirety of the story that had played out. Noticing the others stirring in the snow he quickly stood up and began to take inventory of his belongings hoping that everything was still there. "I'm not sure who any of you are, but do you have any idea of what just happened? I remember seeing some man that destroyed a giant shadow monster... I think he called himself Caus'fel, said he was an Enforcer of some sort. Then it was as if I was some Woman walking around in the cold, I had found some sort of light and when I touched it there was a vision of some sort. It's all sort of blurry and I honestly can't say that it was real. Hell, I can't even tell if this place is real." Looking around at the others it suddenly dawns on him that he had yet to introduce himself. "Ah, forgive me I forgot to introduce myself. I am Loimi Vaeltaja a traveler from Vyö, for reasons I have ended up here on Golarion and have been unable to return home. May I have your names?"

"Va..Va..Varag, I..am...Varag..I..you..WE..saw it..were it..to..together. Caus'fel..Hope..we are seeing..being the END..and must find the Astrok'Ru or the Renor'anon. They will lead us to her, to THE BEGINNING."

Spoiler: OOC:

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Mythweavers is down ATM, so I don't have my skills handy, but assume I look listen and learn at the immediate surroundings. A linguistics check into the 'Fel surname, Nelrin'fel (somehow I am linking this to He Who Waits)

[Mornings]

The masked man nimbly made his ascent, perhaps too easily. Despite the crippling wound, it felt easier to make the climb now than previously... as if he were somehow changed. Perhaps he wasn't even himself anymore... perhaps Professor Cross was right; this place did change and corrupt those whom became entrapped within this hell. Yet, the sudden bout of confidence which filled him kept thoughts such as these out of mind. An unforgivable hubris which the world so aptly reminded him of, when the ledge raced past his vision. He fell. Hands scrambling. Fingers clawing. Each handhold raced past, just out of reach... Until the firm grasp of the grizzled gunman latched out to end Kazik's plummet. The sudden jolt of his halt felt as if it would pull his remaining limb from its socket, but it endured long enough for him to regain his grasp upon the wall. The old hunter snorted with a gruff snort, motioning as if to speak... but the words didn't come.

His gaze was drawn down to the very hand that had caught Kazik. Pale. His complexion lightened as if he were sick. Dust. The two men's eyes locked as some unseen force pulsed through the hall, like a blurred ripple or current brought with the passing of heat. He couldn't speak, but his words motioned the syllables... 'Damn...' The gunman's occupied arm shattered into fragments of dim blue light and dust, releasing him from his perch to be cast hurtling through the air. He never hit the floor below, nor crashed into the myriad of displaced objects held in their awkward places. His form simply dissolved into a haunting cloud of powder as he fell.... then, nothing.

Kazik had heard of this Professor Mayvert. Most people had. She had been one of the first individuals to recover a Paradox Codex from Tainted Land, but her fame... or infamy, had begun long before that. After the massacre at Raven's Cradle, during the historic events which would later be called the Runner's Breach, the Verlow Articles, which were believed to be the first of the Paradox Codices created, specifically mentioned the Professor. Yet, the contents of the message which followed this identification were complete indecipherable gibberish. Prior to the finding the Professor had only been known in the county of Vieland of Ustalav, as being a completely insane genius. The 'genius' was something up for debate, but undoubtedly the Professor was surely mad. While the absurdity of her theorems led to her revocation as a licensed instruction at the college, Mayvert's connections to the headmaster ensured she maintained her private quarters and laboratory at her home in Lepidstadt. [Kazik: Knowledge - Partial]

While it was impossible to know just what lay behind the afterimage of the man named Cross, from perhaps centuries past... or future, Kazik felt that the man's words were delivered somewhat reluctantly. Reluctant to entertain the idea, perhaps, or reluctant to concede to the notion that such a madhat thing could be real. The speech was as much to himself as it was to anything which might be one day present to receive it. Whatever his intent, the words weren't truly to you, but merely an assurance... or perhaps a contingency to the great hypothetical 'what if' scratching at the back of his mind. He'd said it himself; he had no way to know what was true. From his perspective, he'd never be capable of finding out and nothing would evidence that within his lifetime. [Kazik: Sense Motive - Success]

Erik and Kazik could sense its coming with the strange shutter that shattered Walt's being unto mere dust. The unsettling familiar awareness of some manner of unnatural wrongness pervading every sense. It was an overwhelming air of sudden alarm. This place was changing. [Erik/Kazik: Survival - Partial]

Erik continued his climb upward, ever forward. The pulsing sharp pain beneath his armor had become something of a numbing ache. If that was good or bad, he didn't know. The only certainty was that if they idled for too long this place would murder them all. The sight of Walt falling and dissipating into nothing but a fine misty burst of dust was unsettling... Would that happen to them next? Would they be so lucky? Unlikely.

Thinking back on what he could recall regarding Professor Mayvert, who was something of an infamous name these days... He remembered that the loon had proposed some off-beat theory to the board at the college that had cost her what little credibility she might have held, and her license as an educator in Vieland. While he didn't remember the specifics of the story, it was something along the lines of an 'imagined reality' and 'superimposed prescience'... or something. Apparently, whatever it was was a little too crazy, even from her. Regardless, the theorem had been called the 'Tindalos Principle'. He could only assume the subject was somehow related. [Erik: Knowledge - Partial]

The bloodied mercenary's attention was drawn away from the thoughts of Professor Cross and the impossibility of it all. He couldn't begin to wrap his head around just what the purpose of the man's words served, but all of this was beginning to push above his weight. He wasn't some Azlanti scholar, he was a damn sell-sword, but from what he could recall from his many previous forays into the corruption.... this was why experienced Harrier companies always brought a few over-paid egg-heads in tow; to figure this nonsense out. [Erik: Sense Motive - Failure]

A sudden flare of emerald light glinted out from behind the door of the next cell Erik had begun to pass. The flare filtered through the cracks of the decrepit wooden barrier before slowly dying down and flickering out of existence. Kazik shielded his gaze to prevent the onset of a sudden blindness. The Professors words seemed to echo in mind again, something he had told to the black haired knight about the next cell over...

---

Global Quest: Waking, The Nightmare Out Of Crooked Eons
Caught within an endless cycle of death and suffering the words of a stranger begin to reveal the implications of a truth more horrid than anything they could have ever imagined.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Potential Advancement | Time: 2/3 Rounds

⯎ Primary Objective (1): Escape the Tindalos Stalker. The Stalker will hunt for anomalies after a random period of time. Evade the Stalker until it returns to its nightmarish domain... but the beast most certainly will return.
⯎ Primary Objective (2): Locate Professor Mayvert and a method to stop the Tindalos Stalker.

---

Spoiler: Collapse, Stage 1 - Surviving A Crumbling Reality

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Collapse can be caused by numerous things, and while the event is seen as exclusive to Tainted Land - it isn't. Escaping from regions in a state of Collapse is always a top priority. In some cases being swept up by such a phenomenon can sweep up players and bring them to strange new places... However, typically, and far more frequently... It's just the end. Collapse begins by a failed Regional Stability check and quickly escalates until the whole of the effected zone is utterly destroyed, or left in a state no longer recognizable. As the taint slowly expands over the years, the threat of the world turning into swiss-cheese will leer its ugly head and force even the everyday citizens of the world to face the reality that is the coming apocalypse.

Falling into the void here spells your immediate death - there's no crawling out of that fall. Now that the instance has decided to murder itself, players will need to expeditiously get the hell out of here - or rather, flee as far as possible until the clock ticks down. Fortunately, as this is the tutorial, there is a maximum distance the collapse can cover - however in a real event, you'll need to rely on every team-member, contingency and preparation you've taken to escape a Sector with the utmost urgency, as the entire map may effectively be 'erased'. Being caught in such a circumstance while exploring tainted regions is bad, and also means a great deal of 'red flags' were missed on the way up to that critical state. Collapse within a Sector is always much quicker than other forms which might be experienced, and are typically just not good things that you want to avoid. Numerous tools, devices and effects exist which can help further the likelihood of survival for those experiencing such a dangerous encounter. Additionally the effects caused by a Collapse aren't necessarily permanent, and can be reversed with some effort, the effectiveness of such an event varies by the mode in which it's accomplished.

Spoiler: Spite, Brands and Scorn, Oh My!

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There exist numerous forces and energies which represent the level of attention or Malice a player has acquired from the Fates and the greater forces of the multiverse, such as the L'Dalharen. Spite is a universal pool of energy shared by all players currently in the game. A single player cannot receive greater than 100 points of spite, but the pool across all players in the game is jointly 100 points. If one player possesses 80 points of spite, another player cannot also possess 40 points. This distribution is unrelated to circumstance, position or environment (yes, even if you're in another 'universe'). Various thresholds of acquired Spite, depending on the method of how it was acquired, can inflict crippling effects. Some Potentials utilize Spite as a resource for various functions, but such abilities should be utilized with care. When Spite among the total number of players reaches a maximum, the player which has possessed the highest sum among the non-gaining members the longest looses an applicable amount of Spite, passing it to gaining players.

Brands are a resource and curse applied by Fates, or their derivatives such as Greater Spirits (Relicuum and Praeter) for favors and services. Upon gaining a Brand, Spite cannot be lost or utilized, but is still reduced when the total Spite pool amongst the players has reached its max. However, unlike normal redistribution, Branded players are always considered on the bottom of the list of applicable players when determining where Spite must be taken from. A Branded player cannot have their Spite value reduced below 10 while other non-branded players possess Spite, and their total Spite value cannot be decreased to 0 even if that would result in other players gaining 0 Spite themselves. Players who cannot receive Spite always receive a Brand instead.

Scorn is a greater form of Spite, representing a hatred from the governing powers of the multiverse for imbalances and perversions a player has introduced to a universe. This resource is not easily earned and is usually associated with large and significant alterations which radically alter the flow of the game. This level of change is usually something drastic, with effects easily seen by all players. Intentional intervention is required to earn Scorn and create the radical results associated with it, unlike Spite. A player may only possess a maximum of 10 points of Scorn without the associated Potentials. While severe effects are usually inflicted for each point of Scorn gained, reaching the character's maximum value will often result in their destruction. This resource is utilized by a handful of unique abilities and mythic Potentials.

Spoiler: Death from the Second World

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A great deal of powerful otherworldly effects and forces exist out there - because they're actually from another world. Strange and foreign, these powers can inflict levels of severe punishment not normally seen in typical powers and abilities. Severance is such an example.

Safeguarded by the fearsome and secretive Coven of the Nightmare Witches of E'Spdon Valdruk, Severance is a school of magic which shares its name with a violent and natural energy deep within the roots of the universe, though its use has been largely long forgotten in the Second World. The crippling magics woven with such forces by the abominable entities beyond sow horrid annihilating waves of death in your world, obliterating life and natural matter even from the slightest exposure. Severance effects always Wound. They are one of many effects which gain the benefit of various Potentials or unique features when utilized in such a fashion. Like many unique effects, a unique check or save is required to resist it - in this case the unique skill is 'Spell Focus'. Some effects allow a higher DC save for creatures without the applicable unique skill or save, while others grant no save against creatures without the associated resistance. Being exposed to such a force often grants the associated Influences to gain related Potentials, though other routes exist to accomplish the same thing. Additionally, various properties, tools and equipment exists to further defend against these countless unnatural threats.

Spoiler: Veilbeasts - Cursed Wounds

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The harm inflicted by a Veilbeast is rarely a physical one. Some creatures harm both the body, and the psyche of those who sustain such an injury, but regardless of the method, all such wounds are cursed. Being wounded by a Veilbeast, no matter the size or severity, is almost certainly a death-sentence for a Gale. The curses which these creatures deliver slowly tear bodies apart, or even rend the spirit in manners which are mysterious and not understood. Cures which are discovered are often withheld and treated with the highest level of value and secrecy, placing the power of life and death in the hands of the few. Each Curse possesses an individual and unique remedy specific to itself. Some are easier to treat than others, where simple guesswork might suffice. While others are immensely complex; relying on recovered manuals, secret words and regents, amongst other various components. Those wounded by such a curse are immediately discarded in younger, less-experienced companies, while veterans groups often keep records of learned secret cures complied in their leader's manual. This knowledge is often leveraged against the wounded and dying to acquire additional time under their enlistment, or other resources. The Surveyor Corps offered remedies freely as a public service, but what cures they possessed was often extremely limited due to their charitable nature.

Common holders of cures for curies included high-ranking Gales, veteran Harriers, Black-Healers, and of course... 'Witches'.
Weiss was known to have been in possession of a large number of cures for such blights, long before she became a Gale. Her reputation served as some manner of example to substantiate the belief, and that expectation had similarly extended to any and all 'witches'. There were more than a few accounts of such individuals being capable of purging the blight from a Veilbeast-wound, but where you would find such a person belonging to a practice which had been driven underground... Well, that was anyone's guess.

Spoiler: Resisting - Dragged Down

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The cursed and blighted black creatures are attempting to drag you down into the waters far below. Should they prevail, it would surely be the end of you.

The creatures are attempting to grapple you. Upon a successful grapple, you must succeed a strength check to maintain your hold on the wall each round. For each successful creature grappling a new strength check must be passed, increasing in difficulty. The DC of this check is 10 and increases by 2 for each creature in a grapple with you. Every round after the first they have maintained their grapple, these creatures can attempt to utilize their 'drag down' ability, forcing an additional reflex save vs falling. Breaking a grapple is a move action rather than a standard action. Each of these creatures provokes an attack of opportunity when they attempt to grapple you. If you are considered armed and are considered to be threatening a space, you may make your attacks before taking your strength checks.

Spoiler: Enviromental Effect: Surviving the Dark Waters

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Tainted lands are horrendous places filled with strange and exotic new ways to die. The environmental threats in these areas are often far more fatal than the few bouts of combat which may be encountered. The mysterious Dark Water from your vision has been made manifest, and it rapidly drains away the life energy which binds you to existence. Each round in contact with the quickly rising water deals nonlethal damage. The damage suffered is doubled each subsequent round, threatening to consume you.

✦ Consumed: If a character falls unconscious in the Dark Water, they immediately begin to drown (no save). Other characters can attempt to jump in and save you, but will be unlikely to escape themselves.
✦ Crippling Waters: If a character takes an amount of nonlethal damage equal to double his constitution score, he becomes fatigued for 1d4 rounds.
✦ Threatened: You may not take 10 on any check.
⯎ Climbing Out: Character's must succeed a DC10 climb check to move 5ft. Additional distance may be traveled, not to exceed your base movement speed, by succeeding consecutive climb checks for every 5ft. The DC of each check after the first increases by 3. Climbing gear, such as pitons, grapples, and rope can greatly assist in moving faster. If using rope to climb, this movement is performed normally. Creatures with a climb speed may climb as normal. Pitons may be planted and affixed to a safety line at a location to prevent falling from height excess heights. This is a standard action. If a creature fails their climb check by 5 or more, they fall.
⯎ Catching Hold: If there are fixtures adjacent to you when falling, you may attempt a reflex save (DC10 + amount climb check failed by), to grab hold of an item nearby. This may also be done when falling past a potential handhold, or another player. Similarly, this DC may be attempted by a PC in-line with the creature's fall to attempt a catch. After catching a falling creature in this way, the PC must succeed a DC13 strength check or begin falling as well.
⯎ Swimming: Creatures must succeed a DC10 swim check to stay on the surface of the water each round, or begin sinking at a rate of 10 feet per round. Creatures below the surface of the water must succeed a swim check in the same manner as climbing; attempting subsequent checks every 5ft.
⯎ Aiding Another: Characters may spend a standard action to use the Aid Another action, granting a +4 bonus to another a single skill check another creature attempts.
⯎ Extra Effort: If a creature takes a second move action, the DCs of his climb and swim checks reset for that movement. A creature who performs this action a number of times equal to double his constitution modifier must succeed a DC15 fortitude save. Each additional time this ability is used thereafter, the DC of his save increases by 1.
⯎ Recovered: Characters are no longer suffering from any negative effects of their imprisonment and regain full movement speed. (You normally will not recover from negative effects accrued in tainted regions, even over time; leading to your inevitable demise. Learn from this experience, as small issues such as status conditions can all but assure a failed dive. A number of resources and contingencies exist to better your chances of coming back out again.)

Spoiler: Divergence - Influencing the World

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Divergence is a strange phenomenon most ironically experienced by a brief state of non-existence. The changes experienced thereafter are often incredibly radical. Main-Quests are almost always lost if players Diverge before completing their current tasks. Divergence can be both beneficial or crippling, but can always be reversed in some fashion. However, Divergence can only be reversed in the order in which they occurred; meaning, if a player were to Diverge three-times, the first Divergence could not be changed until all subsequent Divergence were negated. Diverging multiple times can make changes you have experienced, influenced, or created, near-permanent by extension. Meddling in otherworldly affairs greatly increases the likelihood of Diverging, however other forces can cause this as well, including player-actions.

A number of unique, but virtually unknown protections and contingencies exist to combat and control this phenomenon. Many unique realms and universes beyond can only be accessed via Divergence, and some abilities can create powerful desirable-effects to bolster players. However, wild, uncontrolled instances of this spectacle can quickly lead to a tragic fate. Surviving the mysterious threats of the Night and influencing the fabric of reality for your benefit will require careful attention paid to the current state of the world, and detecting early signs of such negative influences before they can spin out of control.

Spoiler: Influences

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Influences represent current knowledge, pursuits, training, experiences and aspirations which are actively effecting or being utilized by a character. These represent various concepts and begin to outline a character's values and path as they grow. Influences which are not used regularly are lost, but can be gained again once a character begins pursuing an avenue related towards that field or concept. Influences determine a character's growth in many ways, including experience points they earn and which Potentials they can acquire at any given time.

Unlike with limited class levels, Influences are not acquired spontaneously, and are acquired throughout play; creating an active system which enables a character to re-train, gain new powers, or even improve upon old ones actively with their in-character actions. Training with a sword or exercising the use of an existing Potential allows a character to learn new techniques, empower his current abilities, or even grow his tolerance to pain, sustain damage, run faster, sleep less, and more. Influences play a vital role in developing more sophisticated interpersonal skills and ability to deal and establish diplomatic relations with all manner of strange and otherworldly creatures which you may encounter; in addition to learning more about the unnatural forces which no worldly knowledge could shed light upon. All unique skills are only able to be acquired via potentials, which are trained and worked towards acquiring via your pursuits, experiences, and by extension - your Influences.

Spoiler: Point: 323 - Willowbrook Sanitarium, F3A (About Tainted Lands)

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Tainted Lands are incredibly complex and foreign realms which are often guised as places once familiar. Each tainted region is individually unique and carries with it its own risks, rules, threats and worldly hazards. Many things cannot function, work differently, or can lead to reality crushing results that make survival for most creatures delving into their reaches an impossibility. Site Investigators often travel with groups of Harriers or Gales for long extended periods conducting a through survey of each corrupted-site, known as a 'Point'. These reports are used by various venturing companies to conduct expeditions, known as 'Dives', into the tainted lands. Points are always geographically divided into many areas known as 'Sectors' by Site Investigators. Sectors within a Point mark areas where the rules of the other areas which have been surveyed dramatically differ, be that the laws of nature or magic, or even stranger changes they cannot fully understand.

Common Sector 'rules' which Gales are familiar with include such things as; violent reactions to non-grounded magics, reactions to supernatural energies and abilities, reactions to specific materials, reactions to unstabilized magical creatures and creatures capable of withholding or generating energy, and items or persons keyed to a particular influence.

Fortunately there were not very many public users of magics due to the general fear and suspicion associated with the practice, and thus even less individuals with such talents that traveled into the tainted regions. Magic was an inherently suicidal thing to employ in such places without a remarkable understanding of the Point and all features of the rules which governed the Sector currently being occupied. Everything in a spell from the time it took to produce, to the school, effect, number of targets and even the manner in which the spell functioned were all individuals factors which could set off a dimensional-explosion and throw an entire team of unwitting mercenaries through a hole into Abadon; or worse. There was always worse, they just hadn't learned what that was yet; that was the first lesson tainted lands had to teach the fools which dared brave its depths. Wizards and magicians were generally less welcome by companies that ventured to such places, than they were by the general public. Unless the magician in question specialized in using his or her magic in such places, and possessed a record to back it, not even a fool would bring one along. There existed unique items called 'Grounds' which restrained and processed a magician's magic making it generally safe to use, but they were immensely expensive and built for each individual mage. Yet, more vexing was the matter that a single magician would often need multiple Grounds, as no single device was assured to provide every protection for every circumstance. Nor were they permanent fixtures. Like filters, they eventually spoiled and failed. At least the ones commercially available. The device's creator, the genius inventor Denil Demn could produce Grounds which would self-cleanse and restore themselves with time, but acquiring a commission from the man was a nightmare. If not because of the competition attempting to do the same, than because the craftsman was notoriously difficult to reach.

The degree of influence upon supernatural powers varied wildly, but was based on the level of corruption the tainted region possessed. In some of the worst places there were documented cases of Gales detonating in a bloody mess from simply employing internal forces to accelerate their speed and agility. Much like a monastic practitioner of martial arts, many Harriers preferred to learn to hone inner energies to aid themselves in conflict while Diving, but even this was not completely safe. During 'Deep Dives' companies outfitted their members with various equipment to maintain internal stability, but this was not something exclusive to the most foul of places. If the rules of a Sector were particularly twisted, it was possible to experience those same hazards without venturing into the belly of the beast.

Some materials or creatures didn't react well in tainted regions. The places were often so alien and foreign that not even animals could enter. Sometimes it wasn't just animals, it could be steel, or wood. Maybe iron. No one would know what all, if any may have been effected until a Site Investigator ran their exhaustive tests. Some of the most strange of places caused unnatural phenomena from things associated with a particular thing. Perhaps a cleric's symbol, or a deity's favored weapon, maybe the pages of a book. It was as if the world were possessed by some malicious spirit that remembered only the things related to what had wronged it. None of these places were necessarily good to ever venture, many Gales never bothered. Even putting the twisted spaces of reality aside, the Veilbeasts and other horrors were enough to convince any sane man to keep his distance. Veilplague had become nearly non-existent, but the corruption and curses which could be afflicted were a horrendous burden. If a man were blighted, he could not be allowed into a town or city. It was all one could do to simply pray that a green witch or other healing pariah might be able to mend them, as civil men would have no choice but to quarantine or kill the infected. There simply were no known cures for most maladies, at least not in the hands of the peoples at large. For most, death was assured.


Point: 323, F3A: Sector 1A - Regional Effects
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????

Spoiler: Status

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Environmental Effect
✦ Darkness: There is now absolute darkness throughout the chamber. Normal sight and low-light vision no longer function, you are blind. Darkvision functions normally.

֍ Erik +400 (7,700xp)
HP 18/37 (2 bleed)
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 3
⭍ [Cursed Wound] 2 Bleed, DC 22 Heal (full-round action)
⭍ [Wounding Curse] Fast Healing & Regeneration Disabled. Cannot Heal Grievous Wounds. Cannot Recover Hit-Points. Harms Others. Cure Unlearned.
AC 23
Extra Effort: 5/10
Spite: 2
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Fear Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Destiny Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Pain Influence Gained
⯎ Life Influence Gained
⯎ Struggle Influence Gained
⯎ Teamwork Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Investigation Influence Gained
⯎ Mystery Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Tindalos Principle +300 (8,000xp)

֍ Kazik +500 (7,100xp)
HP 51/51
Shattering (HP Reduction): 7 (1+4+2)
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 3
⭍ [Severance: Dismembered, Corruption] The creature has lost its off-hand. The wound has shattered all the flesh blow the elbow, turning the skin to glass. (This lost limb will be restored upon exiting the room. Kazik may climb with one hand by succeeding a DC10 strength check for every 5ft of movement he makes.)
⭍ [Severance: Shattering, Corruption] The character's body is beginning to crumble and rapidly deteriorate into nothing more than a pile of dust. As the corruption wracks the victim, the creature's maximum hit points are reduced by 1d8 points each round until they escape the Sector. Current hit points in excess of its maximum are not retained as temporary hit points, but are instead lost. This is a form of damage, but it is not healed or resisted conventionally. (This Severance-effect, and the effects of 'Crippling Sorrow' are reversed upon escaping the room. Kazik's maximum hit points and wisdom score are returned to normal.)
AC 20
Extra Effort Used: 3/6
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Agility Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ History Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Attunement Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Lore Influence Gained
⯎ Runner's Breach +500 (7,600xp)
⯎ Raven's Cradle +200 (7,800xp)
⯎ Verlow Articles +500 (8,300xp)
⯎ Professor Mayvert +100 (8,400xp)
⯎ Intentions of Professor Cross +100 (8,500xp)
⯎ Mayvert's Laboratory +100 (8,600xp)
⯎ Acquired [Black Dice x1]

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(Complete) Main Quest: Dreaming, The Nightmare Beast
Something lingered and twisted their perceptions, their very reality. There was no past and present, only a fractured array of constantly shifting states of existence. All was real. All was now. It darkened the world, as if laid in shade beneath the looming hand of some omniscient mad god. Somewhere, someone elsewhere inside knew. That man could discern reality and see the dream for what it was. They had to escape before it consumed them, before all that was named true in their minds was pried from their broken hands, and devoured by some horrific nightmare. The visions... Everything. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be real.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: 0/8 Rounds
Primary Objective: Survive.

---

[Stevesciguy]

"Gunman! Damn it."

Erik shook his head. Just the two of them left: a masked man with one arm, and a literal dead man walking. Both of them trapped in this hellscape with a living nightmare. Erik wasn't one to give up or give in, but even he had to admit that the situation was grim and only going further downhill.

But it's not over til we're dead.

The flash of light brought Erik's mind back down to earth. He faces down to address Kazik.

"Alright kid, it's just us now. That must be the gate Cross mentioned. Wasn't clear about what's on the other side, but if he was willing to walk through it, it can't be worse than here. Let's move."

Erik steadily climbs towards the door. At the door, Erik pauses for a moment to steady himself, then kicks the old door open with a swift motion. A grunt of pain makes its way up and down the corridor in response. After the desperate climb upwards to escape the rising water, the change in direction felt strange. Steadying himself once more, Erik moves into the room, ready for yet another drastic change in scenery.

Spoiler: OoC

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Actions:
Swift: nothing
Move: Climbing
Standard: Extra Effort, if needed to make it

Uses of Fervor left: 6/7
Rounds of Undead form: 5/19
Rounds of Shield: 3/40

Climbing checks:
DC 10: (1d20+8)[20]
DC 13: (1d20+8)[13]
DC 16: (1d20+8)[25]

Extra Effort, if I need it to make it there:
DC 10: (1d20+8)[19]
DC 13: (1d20+8)[18]
DC 16: (1d20+8)[26]

Perception for Bad Guys: (1d20+7)[21]
Survival for Stability on the other side, if I make it there: (1d20+5)[11]

[Chromascope3D]

Kazik
The Hanging Men

Ah.

The man crumbled away, as though his cells had no more desire to hold together. Shame, that. Had he himself been the cause? Perhaps. Perhaps they really were even now. Kazik looked down at his arm, the cracks still tracing its way across his skin, the flesh still peeling away like glass, upwards, revealing more of the glistening, ruby-like machinery beneath. Three down, two to go. Back to it.

Yes, it was a grim reminder of what awaited him if he should fail to escape. And yet, something seemed off. That, perhaps, they might just not live long enough to make it out. Absurdity. Hear you this Asmodeus, hear you this Sarenrae, hear ye this all the gods of vows unbreakable: he would not die here. Crawling ever upwards, like an insect, yes, but what were insects if not survivors at their core? The yawning gates of Mu may await below him, and yet, he had been through worse. As he found new handholds, new footholds, some obvious, some imperceptible to even the naked eye, his mind raced back to that man. Standing over his own frail body, tool in hand. What would he say about this now? Already he had outlived that man, and so he would outlive them all. This world may be cruel, but he would be crueler. Reality may unwrite itself around him, but he would not be unwritten. He'd burn those last few pages himself.

"That man got off easy..."

Kazik muses aloud, as he deftly hoists himself onto the ledge. His eyes trace over to the grizzled veteran, betraying nothing but a cold, empty stare.

"...It's coming back soon."

Spoiler: OOC

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I think 15 ft should be enough to get up to the door.

Copied from OOC ^{[1] [2] [3]}
Climb DC 10: (1d20+14)[16] (1d20+4)[7] | (1d20+4)[5] failure
Climb DC 13: (1d20+14)[29] (1d20+4)[5] | (1d20+4)[11]
Climb DC 16: (1d20+14)[16] (1d20+4)[22] | (1d20+4)[13]
Climb DC 19: (1d20+14)[32] | (1d20+14)[31]. STR (1d20+4)[11] | (1d20+4)[21]

Other skill checks
Survival (1d20+9)[28]
Perception [roll]1d20+10[roll]
(1d20+10)[15] ^[4]