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[DnD SoH IC] The Sermon of the Shattered Temple
Aegeri
Tiny wee bacteriumsPlateau of LengRegistered User regular
Tiny wee bacteriumsPlateau of LengRegistered User regular
This is the In Character or IC thread for my campaign, Sorrow of Heaven (SoH). This thread is for talking with one another in character and for other interactions that don't really require my involvement. This can include working out treasure and that sort of thing as well. This thread also serves as a sort of journal. As you progress through the campaign, this post will be updated with relevant story information so you can remind yourself on various things whenever you want. The other thread, the Out Of Character (OOC) one is more for questions about rules and other things.
The campaign starts in 1479 DR, The Year of the Ageless One (The exact date I'll determine once I put this campaign in phase with the other IRL campaign I am running) with a massive, almost unnatural, storm raging in Cormyr, forcing those traveling the roads to take shelter and anyone else to suspend plans momentarily. Doors in the town are boarded shut and few answer, only a lone, somewhat dilapidated inn along the main road responds to the weary knocks of wet travelers. The roof leaks and the timber looks to have seen better days, but it is better than nothing and at least the inn, called the Gilded Lion, is dry enough. The grim looking proprietor, a short balding man with a scarred over eye spends much of his time fielding various complaints from a well dressed individual, claiming to be an important merchant from the Dragon Coast. He largely ignores the strange coincidence of several non-humans appearing at his inn, feeling that as long as your coin is good you can't be all bad - just as long as you don't overstay your welcome.
An ominous feeling surrounds this night as the storm batters the tiny inn and a looming darkness feels like it has descended over the town of Aurasberg....
Is the map of the town.
The campaign starts in 1479 DR, The Year of the Ageless One (The exact date I'll determine once I put this campaign in phase with the other IRL campaign I am running) with a massive, almost unnatural, storm raging in Cormyr, forcing those traveling the roads to take shelter and anyone else to suspend plans momentarily. Doors in the town are boarded shut and few answer, only a lone, somewhat dilapidated inn along the main road responds to the weary knocks of wet travelers. The roof leaks and the timber looks to have seen better days, but it is better than nothing and at least the inn, called the Gilded Lion, is dry enough. The grim looking proprietor, a short balding man with a scarred over eye spends much of his time fielding various complaints from a well dressed individual, claiming to be an important merchant from the Dragon Coast. He largely ignores the strange coincidence of several non-humans appearing at his inn, feeling that as long as your coin is good you can't be all bad - just as long as you don't overstay your welcome.
An ominous feeling surrounds this night as the storm batters the tiny inn and a looming darkness feels like it has descended over the town of Aurasberg....
Is the map of the town.
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Glancing around the tavern, he was somewhat surprised at the number of non-humans in a backwater village such as this. The weather had driven elements from almost every race ahead of it in their search for shelter.
If only it could have driven them somewhere cleaner.
The rain was a setback, he had planned another night camping outside. He could barely afford a night at the inn. He needed work to earn some coin, but now wasn't the time to worry on that. His notes needed fixing.
As he quietly sat at the table, a timid barmaid worked up enough courage to approach him and ask what he would like to drink. His hood was still draped over his eyes, so she had difficulty gauging his reaction. Barely above a whisper, he ordered a glass of the house cabernet, plunking down a single coin. Placing her slender hand on the table, she picked up the coin before hurrying away to fetch the bottle. Sidus let a bit of a smile cross his face. It was a small comfort, a glass of decent wine and a roof over his head. A shame he didn't have time to pursue the barmaid... she was cute. But he had work to do. He reached down and pulled the book dangling by his waist up to the table. Turning to the first blank page, he pulled out a homemade ink pen and began to record the day's events.
Turning back to stare into the fire, he reflected on his current situation. The rain, though not unexpected, was an inconvenient setback. Not that he had any real plan at the moment, other than a vague idea of traveling to Waterdeep or Baldur's Gate to take a job as a mercenary. Staying in this town for any length of time seemed like a bad idea at any rate. For one, it was still too close to Cormyr for comfort, and for another, it's very uncomfortable to live in an inn where no one wants to serve you food or drink. Trying to make his face as pleasant as possible, he waved one of the barmaids over, pointing meaningfully at the broach pinned to his cloak.
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Ignoring the monsters, I sipped my ale slowly, cursing the inclement weather that forced me into this rathole. I had been away from home for a week now, and I needed to get back. Darya would be running low on money soon, if she still hadn't found a job she could do from the shack. If only I could see more than two feet in front of my face out there...
Suppressing my urge to freeze the asshole merchant, I picked up my drink and stood by the window, watching the lightning flash over the mountains.
I told Mrs. Henchal about Big Sister, but she doesn’t believe me. She just whooped me for fibbing. Bit I know Big Sister is real. . . .
Most miserable day ever. Marcos the boy I liked, the one I told you about a few pages ago, is just like the rest only meaner. He lied when he said he would go to the Solstice Dance with me. He just stood there and lied. And Gracelle was there with him and everyone else laughing at me. I hate them all. I wish they all died. Big Sister says that they deserve it, but I’m so scared ... I wish my folks were still alive....
Everyone wants to kill me—even Mrs. Hench! I had to run. They say I’m a witch. And I think I am one too. I can move things and make fire. I’m evil....
I skinned my knee on some roots and was crying when Big Sister found me. She’s like this old lady (when you can see her), but she somehow reminds me of mom. She gave me this necklace with a big pearl —it’s real pretty —and she took me to her house in the swamp. It was real scary with the wolves and the blackbirds and all, but the scariest was her sister. She’s called Lonni and she’s real tall and pale like a drowned person. She has these teeth like....
Big sister lives in a cave to the west called "Spellhaunt". I need her help, so I'm going to go tonight before mom gets hurt. I don't want my evil to get her hurt.
Mom I love you.
I had had no formal training in this strange type of spiked hammer, but the moment it touched my hand, I instinctively knew how to handle it. It certainly performed as well as my old axe when I put it to the test! By the time I had broken my first animate skeleton with it, I had decided: I'm going to wait at least a week before selling this one off.
No. I can't second guess myself. My duty is clear. But there's still a chance- oh, who am I kidding- in all likelihood, I'm going to fail. Perhaps it would be prudent to have a secondary plan.
"Hey, dragon guy! Armisomething! You've got a kid, right? I've recently considered seeking to propagate. I know it's hardly similar considering your species, but with somewhat of a lack of reputable sources, I'd value your opinion. What do you think of parenthood? And, for example, if you were slain, do you think your progeny would devote their life to avenging you, or to finishing something you began? Even if it were likely to result in their death as well?"
"Uh, yes, arcanist, I am a father. And although I, uh, doubt it will become an issue you must consider anytime soon, or possibly ever, I will advise you to reconsider the idea of bearing a child solely to continue some work of yours. A hatchling is not some tool of their parents, and a son should never be damned by the sins of its father. My son is not yet old enough to speak, but when he can converse, the first lesson I will teach is that we must all walk our own path in this world. I will neither expect nor desire him to follow in my footsteps.
My... child's mother and I, we fertilized our egg at an inopportune time. Scarcely older than juveniles, neither of us had finished our apprenticeships, and so we have had little luck finding steady work. We are no longer welcome in our tribe, and are now living on the outskirts of a human town. By the way my people reckon things, we are the lowest of the low, with no honor or status, and it all stems from the same mistakes that led to the child.
And yet, when I look at him, I am overcome with pride. So much that I would give away everything I have, everything I am, to keep him safe and happy. And I have no doubt that raising him to be kind, strong and honorable will be the most rewarding experience of my life.
So, warlock, do not fear the idea of bringing new life into this world. But do not repeat my mistakes: do it for the right reasons, and do it when you are able and prepared to say: My life is not my own, and never will be again."
This entry is from many months ago, the ink is well faded and it is hard to read:
Tragedy has struck me today and taken everything from me that I held dear. My brothers have been slain by bandits traveling south back home after trading to outposts in the north, but worst of all, so too was my dear daughter Elizabeth. I have been left with nothing, except the dead and no matter how much I pray, the Gods do not listen. Why did I deserve to be punished like this? First my wife, now my daughter? Why am I to be left with nothing?
This entry is from a few tendays ago:
I can't feel her heartbeat anymore, feel the warmth of her breath or the softness of her skin, but she is still my daughter. It has been over a tenday now since the Angel, for only a creature of such power and grace could be an Angel, granted me the power to bring those I loved back to life - even if it is less than I was expected. The Angel, "Lilith", says that I am not strong enough yet to restore them fully to life, only in a state somewhere in between and that if I do a task for her, she says I can bring them back to life fully. It informs me that there will come a time where I am to fetch the potters girl, who I think is named Beatrice although I note that Lilith called her "Denah".
I am uncomfortable with doing this, but if I must to bring my dear Elizabeth back...I shall do so.
This confused entry describes an encounter with Lilith and some Ravens, plus some of his day to day life.
I have seen Lilith arguing with those Ravens again. Speaks for hours with the unnatural animals, ranting and raving at them. Although they occasionally squawk and often fly away during these arguments, I've never seen the birds actually seem to reply. The creatures are quite significant pests around the graveyard, often digging up the dead and pecking the eyes out of new corpses. It takes all my effort just to hide from the townspeople what is going on down here without these damnable birds digging up all the dead people.
What makes them worse is the fact they frequently follow me around. I know they are at the windows at night and on the roof. They watch me dig the graves and they KNOW what I have been doing in the crypt. I see them in there sometimes, with the other friends I've "made" as guardians just to ensure nobody gets too cautious. Further, my dear brother Harnet has started to become more...voracious in his thirst for the flesh of corpses and it's getting hard to dissuade him from digging them up. I fear that he may lose control and attack someone from the town, causing someone to get over curious...
I wonder...I wonder sometimes if what I am doing is the right thing or not, but then I look at my dear Elizabeth and I remember how I've been wronged. I must remain strong.
But perhaps he had a point. After all, look at my parents compared to how I turned out. There's no guarantee that my bloodline would be inclined to follow in my footsteps. Even if the kid would, it would take at least 16 years for him to be old enough to do anything, and that could be too late. Perhaps my original idea was the best, keeping the book. If I die, these fools will read it, and then they'll understand.
Maybe I'm being too negative. Sure I've been doing this for a couple of years. In just the last few days, my strength has grown considerably. If I continue at this rate, I'll be strong enough to do what needs to be done. Even that graveyard monster barely had me breaking a sweat, even if I was missing rather often. When there's a threat I can't handle, I'll worry about it then.
Our journey into the kobold caverns seems to be progressing smoothly. We succeeded in killing one who appears to be their leader. It went off without a hitch. I still wouldn't say I'm a fan of these fools, however they've proven themselves capable enough. The Wizard Saphos is particularly grating; I thought I would find common ground in him, but despite his years of study he doesn't quite seem to grasp how the planes work.
Nevertheless, I suspect that we will have a relatively easy time of this place, at least until we come upon the girl. I don't know what's happened to her, but my instinct tells me it isn't good. In fact, she might even be the source. If so, I don't know what I can do. If I save her, it may be that her life ultimately causes the Storm. It could just as well be her death. I should hope for the best, that she is unrelated variable.
Curious, that as far as I've come I still hope that these events are secondary to my goal. Does that make me a coward? But I must be methodical if I am to succeed. What was the name I was given? Jergal? Yes, I grow more and more certain that he is the one I must contact, him or someone who can speak for him. From there, perhaps I can get another clue, or at least be able to gauge how strong I'll need to be. Until then, I must continue, and hope that if I ever do discern from the murky depths of Fate what it is I must do, I will learn it before it is too late.
Now then, back to the task at hand. The fools have finished dividing up the loot, so perhaps now we can continue.
To the day when my Fate shall no longer be sealed,
-SS
"Are you guys ready? There's no time to waste!" I scowled. "Last time I checked, we were supposed to be helping some helpless little crazy girl. Then again, it's not like we're getting paid to do this or anything, so if you don't mind letting an innocent be cruelly manipulated, we can just leave. Or stay here. Surely someone's got a deck of cards."
From the Notes of Sidus Solitarius:
The extraplanar girl was knocked unconscious by the Gith. The portal she was summoning is closing. Interesting. It was a rather challenging fight; I noticed that my attacks seemed unusually inaccurate. The last time this happened was against the Graveyard Beast; perhaps my masters are onto me, affecting my ability to fight in the hope that I'll be slain and the status quo will remain unchanged.
But I'm avoiding the important thing here. Whatever that monster was, it's gone now. And perhaps it's just my imagination, but I haven't seen the images since the girl dropped. Perhaps I have succeeded in my goal. And yet, I've gone longer periods of time without seeing someone I know writhing in pain as the Storm consumes them. I cannot afford optimism, at least not yet. Still, this victory renews my hope that I might indeed be successful in my endeavor.
Hmm... I should remember that this isn't a diary. Posterity won't be interested in how I feel, it will be interested in what I've done. Very well:
1. The scythe I picked up has augmented my abilities, though admittedly crudely. I suspect that I will need further enhancement before long.
2. My experiments with shifting my own Fateline to essentially "teleport" have proven successful thus far. I dare not risk the potential distortions of moving myself through planes yet, or even very far through this one, however the study of its effects have yielded both impressive and interesting results. The others notice no change in my actual position after jumping, because as far as they're concerned I've always been there. Perhaps more importantly, I have noticed that the movement of my Fateline (perhaps all Fatelines, and I have just now noticed) creates small ripples and eddies. I believe I can channel these miniscule distortions into the physical world. I suspect that they would hurt anyone standing near me when I "jump," and considering the ripple's temporal nature, there might be other effects. Only time will tell.
3. The last several battles have taken place on, of all things, a subterranean Earthmote. The very existance of such an anomaly warrants a great deal of further research, though I probably won't have the time. I might consider consulting Sapho on the matter. He remains relatively clueless as to the basic functions of the world, but with more... uncommon matters, his vast stores of knowledge might prove useful. The Gith might also have some wisdom to impart.
4. Needless to say, I still have yet to acquire any useful information concerning my primary goal. If closing that rift was sufficient to alter this world's Fate, then I have succeeded. If not, it is at least no worse off than it would be had it been fully opened.
5. A basic analysis of this recurring "black blood" substance suggests that it might impart magical enhancement. Before we leave, I will need to check and see if any parts of those cobras remain useable, and I should probably collect a vial of this blood. It may be of use to me once I finish polishing down this bone I've been dragging along. It looks like I won't be getting any other salvagable weapon components from this fight. Well, I suppose I might cut a lock of the girl's hair to put in the bone where the marrow used to be. That will have to be a last resort, as we never really defeated her.
That's enough for now. The girl will be awake soon. The healer is tending to the wounds we inflicted, and I have several questions for her. Maybe then I'll get some answers I can use.
To the day when my Fate shall no longer be sealed,
-SS
I put away the notes and reached into my pack, pulling out the Bone of the Graveyard Beast. "Well then, let's see what I can do with this," I said, looking over the old, gray-white bone. Igniting my hand with purple fire, I direct a thin beam to sever each end, making a rough cylindrical shape. Then I begin the long, slow process of incinerating a bit at a time and polishing off the charred area to carve it into the shape I want.
"Let me know when the girl wakes up, will you? Oh, Sappho, have you ever seen anything like this Earthmote before? What about you, Varlkith?"
To be sure, the black liquid that was controlling this girl was somehow more powerful. Perhaps because she is not a simple minded kobold or a grieving human. Either way, when we previously destroyed the liquid that came from Dagurtz, it did nothing to enhance blades. This girl is powerful in some way, the liquid must have augmented it.
The robes she wore belong to me now. A good thing, she nearly killed me at her first assault. Powers such as those could be very useful in the war against the gibbering hordes of Thay...I will need some time to study...no...learn from her before we move on.
"No, I have never seen such a thing before. But if you wish my input in the future, you will refer to me by my name. It is Saphelon, there is no other name you may refer to me by."
"'And whom should I persuade to come
Here, to soothe the sting of your passion this time?
Who now is abusing you, Sappho? Who is
Treating you cruelly?'"
I did not bother to look away from my work as I continued. "It is a rough translation to Common, my effeminate friend, as it comes from a far, far plane. But the words fair Aphrodite spoke with kindness, I incite with mockery. I am not in the habit of indulging in the common pleasantries to those from whom I have nothing to gain. Do not speak to me as though you own me or insist that I should respect you, O Conjurer of Simple Illusions. I see the future, and your destiny, and the Fate of this entire world. I see your Fateline as it meanders through existence, just as I saw the children of the Dragonman before he ever spoke of them, as I saw the Red Wizards of old who once held the Gith captive. Take the time to ponder carefully what I might see in you. A fool's errand, perhaps? A lost love?"
To drive home the effect of what I was about to say, I gently put down the bone and stood. Though I was shorter than him, I knew how to make myself appear taller, and did so. "Never forget that my knowledge extends far beyond my own eyes, that I see you for just what you are, and nothing more: the product of your past, the victim of your present, and the artificer of your future. You may cloak yourself in arcana and attempt to hide who you are, but you cannot hide anything from me."
I returned to my seat and to my work. "You should be wary of disrespecting me, for I, having seen your future, may freely act to alter it. I would feel no shadenfreude, for in such small works are worlds undone, and I am loathe to act so... haphazardly. Such a vernichtungsgedanke could only be a last resort. You have proven yourself to be an asset to the world so far, and thus I have offered you my aid. In time, perhaps I will come to respect you. However, I find it unlikely that I will ever address you by such a decadent, pompous, Jeunesse dorée nom de guerre. I assume, of course, that 'Saphelon' is a nom de guerre?" I gave an unpleasant smile and looked away, back to my craft.
If I truly wanted, I would be sitting on the Council of the Simbarchs now. Corrupt politicians. Hapless mages. The Simbul would put it right could she see the disrespectful nature they rule in...she will.
"You have quite the tongue half-elf, but words of eloquence are lost on me. I simply ask to be referred to by my name, as it was given by my Father. But if you feel the need to challenge that, then you may attempt to alter the 'Fateline' of Correlon. I doubt that you are up to the task."
I noticed his working with the bone of that graveyard beast we encountered. It piques the interest, I would expect he hasn't the talent to enchant such an item. He is quite bright to capture some of the magical substance. I wonder if my studies would be aided by him.
"You speak of things you do not understand, like the simple playwright who thinks himself a great poet. Our existence is no mere drift through the planes like a leaf on the breeze. Neither is anyone's, not even Corellon's. If I wanted to alter the Fate of a God, I could do it without ever touching the God's Fateline. To control Fate is to analyze chaos, to know the outcomes of every potential, and then to strike at the key point to set the desired change in motion. That is the depth of my power. Now perhaps you will learn to keep silent about such matters, lest you continue to betray your own ignorance."
A power such as that may be what I need. But without understanding what it is he does to alter it, I will be doing nothing. Though...I have done it in a sense. I have aided this group in thwarting their attempt to open this gate. Is he manupulating our 'Fatelines' through simple actions, or is it Arcane? Now I MUST know!
"Perhaps someday you could teach me then. I am an apt student. Understanding each other would prepare us better to work together."
He is antagonistic. Not a trait I enjoy dealing with. Combining Benjamin's diplomatic brilliance with his dark antagonism may make a tolerable being, but both of them together is nearly too much to stand.
I spoke calmly, slowly, decisively. "I... agree that mutual education would allow for a more effective coexistence. Know that I once dabbled in arcane pursuits similar to yours, though compared to you I would be but a novice. But that is, more or less, beside the point."
"To be perfectly honest, I don't trust you enough to impart the complete details of my abilities. I apologize, but we've known each other for a matter of days, and the risk of emparting the depth of my knowledge to you is astronomically high. I just don't know you well enough, I'm afraid." I did my best to sound apologetic rather than suspicious, but I was never very good at apologetic.
"However, that does not mean that I might not give you a brief overview of the basics of my... for lack of a better word, gift. You should be aware by now that I made a pact with a far-distant creature of unknown origin, a creature that in particular determines Fate. The pact took my sight, which is why my eyes appear clouded; technically I can see from them, but the lenses are so blocked that they are essentially useless. Instead, I see something else entirely."
"Put simply, I see you not as you are, but as you will be. I see images, flashes, of the future aspects of everything. I have recently suspected that I see images of the past as well, but that is beside the point. The vast majority of these images are merely a second or two ahead of present time, and thus serve no aid in foretelling anything. Occasionally, I will get an image a few days ahead, or even a few years. Of course, I can't tell when these images will occur, only that they will, as long as I don't make any changes. For example, I saw an image of you several days ago, bleeding heavily and badly hurt. I did not know it then, but it was from just a few minutes ago, when you were hit in the face by that chunk of stone."
"For a long time after making my pact, that was all I could see. Later, I discovered that, by focusing carefully on a single entity, I could see not just a single image of their future, but a linear representation of their whole life laid out in front of me. I can pull images from it at will, but such images are unrecognizably blurry more than a minute or so ahead. There is, so far as I could tell, no record of any such structure documented to this day, ergo I labelled these things Fatelines. I doubt they actually exist; more likely they are simply the way my three dimensional mind represents a fourth dimensional catalogue. The length and breadth of my powers stem from the manipulation and control of these representations, thereby affecting the entities they represent."
"But the manipulation of Fatelines is no mere simple trick. Each Fateline interacts with a thousand others in its meandering course through time, interlocking, forming new threads, destroying others. I have seen the tiniest change to a seemingly insignificant Fateline cause vast, unknowable changes to the entire plane. When I alter a Fateline, I can see it make dozens, hundreds, thousands of changes down the road, but my sight is still so limited that I cannot see what those changes are, or even whether they are good or bad. The vast majority of my job is taken up with careful analysis of a given situation, so that I make only the changes that will positively affect me. In the future, if you hear me mutter about variables, constants, equations, and the like, understand that I'm trying to figure out what I need to do to enact a specific desired change, be it slaying an enemy or smooth talking an insane elementally-charged girl. To borrow a phrase, it is what the Dwarves would call 'finding a decent Ironweaver in an Elf colony.'"
Good. I gave away no specific information about how I manipulate Fates, and there were no noticable changes to any local Fatelines. But then, I was only doing what I Fate had decreed I would do; there was no reason for them to change at all.
Plus, Darya was able to snag that book on woodcarving for me, so now I know which trees have the nice soft, pliable wood. To thank her, I gave her the hippo I'd been carving. I think she could tell that it was going to be a giraffe originally, though-- she kept eyeing those long, spindly legs and raising her eyebrow. Well, shit, I've never seen a fucking hippo, sue me. I don't know what their legs look like! Maybe I'll carve an ungrateful killjoy next, feel like posing for it?
I give her a hug to show I was kidding, and then go off and look for a cork tree. Shit, I didn't know cork was a type of wood! I thought you just punched holes in normal wood to make them! The stuff I'm learning from this book-- or remembering, anyway. I guess I've forgotten a lot about this nature crap since I ran away from home, it's coming back a bit.
Anyway, yeah, there are some good bits to having family traveling with you, and it'll be a weight off my back when Payam's cured. Still, I'm not really made to protect people. The sooner these two are safe in Valkur's again, the better.
Alright, now, what did rabbits look like again? Short, pointy ears, right? No? Shit. Well, maybe it'll make a good fox, I'm pretty sure they've got those stubby puff tails too.
The fish priestess was a good example. Never before had I performed Fate Manipulation so spectacularly. It is ironic, I suppose, that I would project into her mind an image of mere seconds into her future, only to have the knowledge of her own inevitable death become her undoing. Ironic... and perhaps cruel. The tentacles, however, those are worrisome. The Far Realm exposure that spawns such abominations.... distressing. It is a rare thing for the Far Realm to start affecting this plane. Maybe I'm just getting paranoid, but considering the enemies I've made just by existing, these new foes may be due to my influence.
Opening my eyes at last, I beheld the giant blue and green blurs that were the trees and sky. Taking a deep breath, my nose detected an array of smells. First was the guard's cooking. Abhorrent. I of course had been eating trail rations, guard's food being of the poorest quality. And then there were the children. I told them it was a poor idea, but I let them along anyway. Beyond the low-quality meats, I could detect another smell, faint but still there: the smell of death, looming darkly over its young prey.
Of course, that was less important than the real reason for my aversion to travelling with so many companions. The truth was that each new companion was another unknown variable to account for. It was so much more difficult to predict and plan behaviors when these children make everyone's reactions so unpredictable. Why, even the Dragonman's responses have swayed from laughably predictable to totally erratic just because his brood is following along with him.
My god, I am such a fool. How did I not see this before? Here I am, spending hours studying each companion in the hope that I might better manipulate them, and one of them practically gives me a way to do it. Of course, I'll need to approach this with care, considering his rather... violent... tendencies. But I don't think I'll have much trouble getting his help. And this time, being honest might be the most direct route.
"Shit, when we get back, I'm heading straight to Baldur's Gate and playing the ponies until my fuckin' arm falls off. Don't worry, when I'm living the high life in the City of Brass, I won't forget you little people.
"Oh, and anyone know an animal with short ears and a short tail? I kinda screwed this one up, a bit."
Must focus. Focus was key. Don't think of it as a sentient being. It is an evil. It must be destroyed. For the good of the world. That didn't make it easier. Oh, sure, it was one thing to manipulate a Fateline, shorten someone's life. It was subtle. Subtlety is what I do. But this....
The thief stood there, helpless. Bound, gagged. He would not protect himself, could not. And right now, he was mostly harmless. But in two years, he would be an Orcus worshipper. He would be responsible for creating a magical explosion that would annihilate an entire city. A thousand Fatelines ended in an instant. I could not allow the present to continue.
I drew the dagger. I could make it painless. That was the best I could do. Instant death. The dagger came down, and I watched as his Fateline came to a sudden halt.
And then I felt it. The potential. I should have seen this earlier, but I was too far away. I should have known; it made so much sense. A baby, when born, has nearly infinite potential. As the person traverses their Fate, the potential drops. But when the Fateline shortens, the potential is unleashed. Until now, it was just dissipating away harmlessly. But I could harness it.
It was simple, to grab the Fateline, and I could feel the power coursing away from the end, into my hand, into my body. Pure potential. I could store it in my body. Or... I could unleash it.
I ignited my left hand in violet flames. And then I looked down at the corpse. This was not a gift I would ever waste.
I shook my head. That had been a quite a rush, escaping that rock slide. It is unfortunate that I could not prevent the Cleric's death. I had not talked to him very often, but... it was still a shame.
Like that thief... I would not let his sacrifice be in vain.
Ok. I'm from a place called Green Path. It's in a forest a little ways off from here. Or it was there anyway when I left it. Sometimes Green Path moves you see.. Ahm.
Oh yes, Im a Cleric of Melora! She is the goddess of the Wilderness and of the Sea! I quite enjoy travelling, cooking, and making maps. Travelling and mapmaking sort of go hand in hand. I have a wonderful collection of maps here.
Oh my, I almost forgot! My name is Milo Proudstepper of the Proudstepper clan, 3rd cousin twice removed of Tasslehoof Burfoot. My father was the sheriff of Greenpath, which is a small nomadic farming community. I was trained to fill in his father's steps, but fell in love with maps and mapmaking and exploring as a young halfling.
Then, while listening to my grand-father rambling on about his "younger years" I heard a tale about Tasslehoof Burfoot. I learned that he was a distant relative and that Tasslehoof was a very famous halfing who also was a great map collector.
I was very curious about the world at large and my grand-father, Lobim, who also happened to be a Priest of Melora decided to let me go travelling with him for my 25th birthday. Along the way Lobim taught me all about Melora. We set out in search of Tasslehoof's long lost maps that Lobim heard were left and forgotten in a mountain somewhere... Only he didn't know what mountain or where it was.. so we travelled around going through old books in libraries looking for mention of Tass and a mountain.. but we didn't have very much luck so we decided it would be a lot more efficient if we split up to look for it..
And so we have it, while wandering about filling my map with notes and comparing them with older maps I noticed the weather had turned really bad. So I went back to this cave I passed before for shelter. I sat at the mouth of the cave for a while and watched the storm with interest, then, growing tired I made myself supper and went to make sure this part of the cave was uninhabited.. but as is often the case, it wasn't empty and a pair of nasty smelly undead knocked me out..
But.. enough about me. Where are you all of you heading? Are you on a quest? Oh that would be exciting to meet some people on a quest!
I think that, you know, since it was pure luck that I got attack by those ghouls.. or maybe unluck.. but also it was chance that you guys.. what did you really fall down a well? Well anyway, it's all too lucky that you all came along just when they were going to eat me.. so I guess I'll I'll just travel with you all if you wouldnt mind that too much?
But worse, I had grown to trust them. They were reliable enough, and I was almost completely certain that they would not interfere if I told them of my true quest. Still, if I focus the entirety of my will on him, it ought not take me long to determine whether he is as trustworthy enough. Soon.
Igniting my hand in eldritch fire, I gave myself a proper introduction. "My name is Sidus Solitarius, the Lonely Star, Wielder of the Flame of Caiphon, etc. I am a student of many things, but my primary area of study is in the manipulation of Fate. I have been enhanced with a limited foresight, the power to see people not as they are, but as they will be. This... gift... has allowed me to witness the effects of miniscule changes on the world's future. By manipulating a structure I have dubbed 'Fatelines,' linear representations of the lives of people and objects, I can see the changes they cause and, through extensive experimentation and calculation, create a desired change with few alternative consequences."
It was a reasonably simple explanation of my abilities; it would suffice for now. He need not know exactly how things work, not yet.
"As of now we are on..." I gave an involuntary shudder, "a quest. My companions were searching for a cure to a suspected magical disease plaguing a nearby town. I was rendering aid, for reasons that for some reason eludes me, considering how expensive my time is." A false front, but I can gauge his reaction. And I don't mind looking like the bad guy if I have to. Oghma knows I've done it before. "At any rate, the temple we visited to get the healing agent was attacked, and we tracked them back to a well. We defeated some monstrous entity casting a ritual that would crumble the temple walls, and our companion was killed trying to hold the room intact while we escaped through a hidden grotto into another chamber, and from there we found our way here. Our other companion, a Dragonborn, did not follow."
"Now then, if we truly are in the Shadowfell... I was not aware that such portals were at all commonplace. Saphelon, Varlkith, this is well outside my milieux. What do you know of such matters?"
As I weighed the matter in my head, I heard Sidus issue a question.
"The Shadowfell is... different. It is the product of two planes bound together by Shar, after her triumph over Mystra. Tread carefully here, warlock. I'll not catch you if you fall."
The day's events have been most distressing. I have spent such effort to hold things together, and I wonder now if it was all in vain.
Where to start... ah yes. My short tenure in the Shadowfell taught me something interesting about the way Fatelines shift through the planes. I had no clue how best to utilize this power, until I saw the demon, that is. I believe I can shift a small section of the Shadowfell into this plane, transposing the Shadowfell's version of the plane over the real one. I'm unsure of what effects it might have, but I'm reasonably sure the strain on my mind will make it difficult to maintain or repeat. But this is all good news. If I can shift bits of planes back and forth, surely it is only a matter of time before I can prevent the Storm.
Far more worrisome is this recent problem with the paladin. Losing one's mentor can have extreme repurcussions, not the least of which is the amount of unpredictability I must now factor into my equations involving him. I had hoped I would be able to save the man with my limited ability, but I was unsuccessful. And now... the paladin has grown stubborn. I fear he has gravely underestimated the power of the scroll he carries, and worse I fear that it will be his undoing. He must be persuaded to give the scroll to another, I think: the Gith has shown himself to be self-serving enough to be a good candidate.
As much as I would hope to dissuade the paladin from reckless action, his Fateline would appear to speak contrary. I think I will need to recruit help. To the day when my Fate shall no longer be bound,
SS
I put the pen away. The group sat, taking a brief respite before we began our journey through the catacombs. Recognizing my only real hope in the matter, I beckoned Saphelon over.
"Listen," I whispered. "We don't see eye to eye on a lot of things. But I think you agree with me that Benjamin is not the person who should be holding that scroll, for his safety or ours. How many heroes have lost their lives from their naivety? Letting perhaps the most idealistic of our group hold onto a scroll of an evil god... this reeks of folly. Will you help me to persuade him of this?"
"I agree that the scroll is dangerous, but I doubt he will part with it so easily. This is very unlike him. I'm not sure he trusts any of us enough to handle this. It is the wish of his master, who is likely dead now. I've said my piece to him, and he did not hear me."
Benjamin was close to my family, I suppose this made him like a brother. Yet, I made no qualms about threatening him. I do not trust the little I know of this scroll. It contains power far beyond us, perhaps beyond what his master had known of it. It is clear he had used it, most men would have been crushed by that demon. Not to mention his conversation with the beast. I didn't want anything bad to befall Benjamin...
"I will at least listen, what exactly did you have in mind?"
"The best thing might be to have you start on his side, gradually swayed over as I give compelling arguments. But you've already voiced your dissension, so it may be difficult to convince him that you're on his side. I will leave the choice to you."
I paused. It was finally time. If I would convince the paladin of anything, I would need to come absolutely clean. "You have little reason to trust me either, I know. It has been necessary to keep my true intentions out of this group's knowledge, I assure you. But if you will believe anything I ever say, believe that which I will speak today."
"I think I can convince him I am behind his decision, if anything, I think he's a tad thick. But I think that of most people who don't wield magic as we do. I am not a great deceiver, but perhaps he will be convinced anyhow. However, as I said to Benjamin earlier, should you ever find that your task requires you to assail us, I will not hesitate."
For the first time in a very long time, I could feel my emotions speaking up for me. I did not entirely trust him, as he said, he is a liar. Why would you trust the word of a liar? But even when I spoke it, I could feel myself trying to tug the words back, just as I had with Benjamin. I meant what I said, as I always do. But some part of my subconscious didn't want it to happen. I don't have the foresight as the warlock does, but I'm sure he has seen a 'Fateline' that ends with one of us slain at the others' hands.
Saphelon shifted his weight slightly as he was lost in thought, before shaking his head and rejoining reality. "On with it then."
"Benjamin, I think we need to talk." I stood up carefully, calmly. I would need to be sensitive. "First of all, I want to offer my sympathy for the pain you must be feeling now. I have felt similar pain before, and it is not something that I would wish on another."
I slowly took a step closer to him, looking at me through the gloom. "That said, I do not think it would be wise of you to sacrifice your judgement in grief. Do not let your emotions cloud your reasoning. That object is exceedingly dangerous; you need look no closer than to the demon that was willing to take your master's life to get it. If it does indeed contain some essence of Myrkul, then it is assuredly a great evil as well."
I opened my arms, bowed my head slightly, and began to pace back and forth as I continued. "You may be strong, Benjamin, but neither you nor any of us ought to risk the direct anger of a god, even a dead one. Of all this group, you are perhaps the most idealistic. It is difficult for me to admit, but... it is important that we not lose that idealism. I fear what influence that scroll might exert upon one it despises. Surely you know the tales of the Hand of Vecna, which legend says will actively attempt to strangle the one who angers it. I know you master asked you to keep it safe, but I believe that it would be better off in the hands of another."
"I think it is time... I told you my story." Honesty. My last resort. My target was a paladin of no great intellect... I would have to simplify things a great deal.
"First of all, you all know that I've been keeping my true purpose secret. Understand that until now I had everything to lose and nothing to gain by telling you of my purpose. I finally have something to gain. Also, you should know that regardless of the potential gains or losses, I could not tell you my plans until I knew that each of you fell into at least one of these categories:
1. Would not act to subvert my mission.
2. Would openly support my mission, or could be manipulated into aid.
3. Can be easily eradicated through Fate Manipulation should he attempt to subvert my mission.
I would tell you which category you each fell into, but I don't want to hurt your feelings." Even now, I could not retain my urge to belittle them. This would be harder than I thought. I took a deep breath to calm myself, and I began to orate.
"Five years, eight months, seventeen days ago, I was the son of a minor noble, a former hero who retired with a small fortune and set up a trading company in my mother's hometown of Silverymoon, Luruar. Among the family's loot from his travels was a massive library filled with books recovered from a wizard's stash. Among them was a book without words. An attempt to scry it was useless, so my father assumed it was merely an ordinary, blank book, and left it in the library with the others."
"On that fateful day, I opened that book. Although there had never been a word written on it, I began to see words form. I knew that somehow, the book had been waiting for me, waiting to reveal what it needed to say. And read it I did. It consumed me; though the book was hundreds of pages long, I was flipping through pages two at a time. I finished it in mere hours. And when I was done... I was changed." My memory of that day had not diminished in the slightest, though I had scarely thought of it. It was etched in my mind.
I noticed that I had stopped pacing. I continued after a brief pause. "Many people who read too many books find themselves in need of ocular enhancement. Glasses. Somehow, it was as though the book had taken a lifetime's worth of focus from my eyes; they could barely function. But I could still read the book as clearly as when I started, for it had gifted me with the limited foresight I have used in lieu of regular sight since that day." Was I spilling every secret I had? This was unnecessary... I shouldn't have said it. Well, it doesn't matter now. Back to the important things.
"The book told of many things, and I could not recount the whole of it had I a thousand lifetimes. I will summarize instead. The book claimed that this land was not going to last much longer. The Spellplague was mere foreshadowing, an early warning of the true doom that was approaching Faerun. In my dreams, it takes the shape of a giant storm, spewing fire, lightning, hail, covering the land in darkness. But the book also conveyed hope: it spoke of a blinded warrior who would save the world through his actions." That book... I often wondered how and why it had given me these powers, told a story of hope... it could not have been wholy a thing of evil.
"Obviously, I thought that I had gone crazy, or that the book was trying to harm me. I saw a seer, and he confirmed these terrible images. When I mentioned that I might be the man to bring hope, the seer warned me off. I can recall his exact words. 'Do not interfere with Fate! The strands are unwinding! No man can hold them together!'" He had been my first detractor. He had not been the last.
"Of course, I did not take his words for fact. I saw others, and I was told much the same thing. In the end, I was forced to conclude that the world was indeed coming to an end. I could not have the strength to overcome Fate. I spent months, wandering the land, preaching the world's doom. But the worst part...." Here I paused, and not for dramatic effect. The memories were coming fast and thick now, as I remembered every single one of them. "The worst part has always been the corpses. To see someone talking one minute, and to watch their body blown apart by untold terrible magics the next... it is no small wonder I have been so depressed of late." I dismissed the terrible images from my mind. Now was not the time.
"To bring a long story to a short conclusion, eventually I realized the true depths of my powers. I discovered that through careful analysis, I could learn where to prod a specific Fateline today to cause the change I wanted tomorrow. I dedicated myself to experimentation with Fate Manipulation. Someday, I will find the equations and variables I need to calculate the right manipulations and save this world." Save the world... three words that had occupied my head more than any other for the last five years.
"I have lied to others, but I have always been honest to myself about my true goal. I'm saving the world. But I don't think I can do it if I don't play dirty. Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that Fate does not like it when people tell it what to do. I have made sacrifices, compromises of traditional morality, but always for the sake of the world. If you will judge me as evil for that, I will not hold it against you."
The lesson. I would have to make it clear, leave no chance for doubt."But like all good stories, mine has a point. In our time together, each day I have seen all of us, myself included, dead, destroyed, disintegrated... I could continue my consonance, but I think you get my point. As I look at our Fatelines, I see you holding onto that object. I can't tell what effect it has, or will have if left unchecked, but every fiber of my being says it's a mistake, and my calculations agree. The images I have seen of you of late would also suggest that...." This pause was for dramatic effect: build the tension a bit. "Well, I cannot afford to pull any punches... you will attack us, maybe even kill us, or force us to kill you. I ask of you, on the million to one chance that it is you holding that item that ultimately destroys this world... please, give it to someone else."
My hands dropped from the open-palmed gesture I had used to conclude, and they landed at my sides. I bowed my head slightly, signalling that I was finished. I had done everything I could. If the man would not relinquish the Scroll, I would have to resort to damage control. If that didn't work, I would have only one option. I would kill him.
Blood streamed down his masters face and dripped onto the arm of the winged gnoll holding him aloft.
Shock rooted Benjamin to the spot.
He remembered now. At that time. Just as he ran into the hall.
There had been something in his masters hands. He'd must have put it under the altar when he entered.
“I have to stay behind again?â€
“I'm sorry Benjamin. This is not something you must deal with.†His master's voice was tired, but kindly. “Take care of the place as you usually do. I know I don't have to tell you to remember the rituals.â€
They would leave him at the hall by himself while they went into the hills. Only he would stay behind. Once, when he was very little, scarcely ten, he'd gotten bored waiting and crawled under the altar, pretending it was a deep dungeon. Full of adventure.
He'd looked up and there had been an indent in the underside of the great rock. Out of curiosity, he picked at it, and a hole in the altar had swung open. He thought he'd broken the altar! He pushed it back up in a panic and half ran, half scrambled out of the hall, expecting at any moment Godly retribution. He never played near the altar again.
Saphelon's face, staring incredulously at him after he'd dash up to the altar, reached under and pulled out the scroll. He hadn't even needed to search. He'd remembered the indent by instinct. Just big enough for a tightly rolled parchment.
“You claim to be pious, but you use the power of the former God of Death for your own!â€
“The altar...take the scroll...run boy! Do not let them have it!â€
Master. I will not let them have it.
“...someone else.â€
Benjamin's eyes snapped open in shock. The warlock was speaking to him. No, he had been speaking to him for some time.
He struggled to remember. What had been the last thing he'd said? Where was he?
Cold gripped him. After touching the scroll, a chill like he had never felt before had begun to creep up his arm. Now it had spread through his whole body. His grief was numbed. His shock. Swallowed by the cold.
They wanted it? They wanted to take it? Why? Didn't they trust him? The memory of the last few minutes washed over him, as if breaking free of something holding it back.
“...I think we need to talk...â€
“..sacrifice your judgement...â€
“...anger of a god...â€
Benjamin stared blankly into the Warlock's serious face. Sidus hands were at his sides. But he was tense. Alert. His gaze flickered to Saphelon. He was the same, alert. His face concerned. They were...afraid of something? Of him?
“..my story..â€
“..books recovered from a wizard's stash..â€
“...opened the book...â€
“...Fate...â€
“...save the world...â€
No. They weren't afraid. They were worried about him. He'd been worrying them. Anger flowed through him. Anger at himself.
You goddam fool. This is not how a Paladin of Aumunator is supposed to act! You are their strength! If you fall, who will wipe away their cares, protect them, guide them, lead them? Who will show them the path through the darkness, if not you?
Like the light of the dawn shredding the morning fog, from deep within him, heat began to spread through Benjamin.
“...images I have seen of you of late...â€
“You will attack us, maybe even kill us, or force us to kill you. I ask of you, on the million to one chance that it is you holding that item that ultimately destroys this world...please, give it to someone else.â€
Warmth melted the cold in his arms, freed his legs. In the gloom, his white armor seemed to glow brighter. He straightened. Energy was coursing through him like a torrent, like an unending fire. The cold fled before it.
Benjamin took a sudden step through the gloom and clapped his other hand on Sidus shoulder.
His voice was confident, and strong.
“You still have a way to go Sidus, if you want to be able to predict my Fate.â€
As he pushed the scroll into Sidus hand, the raging flame within him roared down his arm and slammed the last of the cold back into the scroll. Benjamin let go of the scroll, and as he did so the last shadow on his mind vanished with a scream of impotent rage.
He took a deep breath, full of life and joy. He suddenly realised he was hungry, but ignored it.
With a quick movement, he snatched a torch from his belt and held it aloft. It burst into flame, the sudden light tearing away the shadows in the gloom. A grin broke across his face like a sunrise, mocking the dark at the edge of the flame with its easy brilliance.
“Because I will never betray my friends.â€
He turned and strode into the catacombs, leading the way.
Don't worry about a thing, Master.
We will not let them have it.
"I hope not B..."
The words caught in my throat. For the first time in a very long while, I did something out of character. I smiled.
I was many things, but I would never be this kind of leader. My words could turn a man traitor, they could sway a king to invade a neighbor. They could even make an army run in fear. But that day I was certain that I would never be a true leader of men.
Still, it was irrelevant for now. "Benjamin, I think we might be getting ahead of ourselves. I do not know if it would be wise for me to possess this scroll. I... think it would be best to put it to a vote." I was split. On the one hand, I had an opportunity at unique insights into my goals. On the other, if the Scroll ever tried to control me... my foresight was so limited. Who knows how far into the future even a fraction of Myrkul might see?
I would leave it to the decision of the group. I would let Fate decide. How ironic. I knelt down to pick up the scroll, and handed it to Saphelon. For the first time, it seemed as though we might be on the same page.
"Even if we decide who will carry it, where do we take it? We should have a plan in place before we start moving. I know that I do not want to carry it, but I can if that is what the group decides."
I suppose they'll want to know who I suggest take it. I do not know the halfling that well, but I think he would be the easiest to handle should he turn on us. Yes, I think that is the most logical choice, I'll wait until the others have spoken their piece though.
Perhaps more importantly, he did not trust the rest of the group with such a powerful artifact. They were but Primes, and he doubted that they would be able to withstand any suggestions or compulsions that the scroll might place upon them. His choice was made.
"Artifacts such as this seek to enslave. Control. Who else among us here has resisted slavery all their lives? I will take the scroll if you all agree. Before making your decision though, consider this. I am a devotee of Kelemvor, the new God of the Dead. Who better is there to control the power of the old God?"
"That is logical to me. As long as Kelemvor watches over you I doubt Myrkul can exert all of his will on you. You have my vote Gith."
After that, should this creature prove useful perhaps it will lead it to the Nec'rotyr blade and have it wield it for itself. Should its host prove to fail it, perhaps it would have to dispose of these mortals...."
[concordance has increased]
"Ho! While I trust your judgements regarding the scroll and respect the concentration you put to your deliberations, the gnolls do still attack the stair case behind us! The first thing we have to do is get out of here! Give Varlkith the scroll and move your legs!"