The new forums will be named Coin Return (based on the most recent vote)! You can check on the status and timeline of the transition to the new forums here.
The Guiding Principles and New Rules document is now in effect.
You trace their steps back to the King's Highway, a long and winding path through the Underdark and its echoes, locked in place by Torog's shed blood. The Highway is much closer than it was a few weeks ago, which is both convenient and, if the Drow are confident enough to use it, possibly quite dangerous.
The Fomorians are a powerful but universally mad race, unpredictable, prideful and dangerous. Though some smaller Fomorian kingdoms have chosen a side in the war, the greatest have remained out of it as well as they can. That said, Fomorian rivalries are fierce, and you might get an effective ally if you can exploit their strange politics.
The primal spirits speak to the Many about a "Living Grotto," a specific forest of fungus within the Feydark, as well as a mobile, massive fungus colony lost in the Deeps of the Underdark. There are many colonies throughout the Feydark, but these, it seems, would be the best options for you. The spirits give a final word of warning: sapient fungi rarely see intelligent living creatures as anything other than food.
A low blue light illuminates the room. Devin and Kalac fidget nervously, exchanging darting glances, but the Headmaster's green eyes do not waver from the chanting circle. The gray robes of the Scrying Department sway back and forth as their arcane senses stretch outward, seeking life... whatever twisted form it might take in the Underdark.
Arch-historian Gamble stumbles into the chamber, glasses askew, his mouth open to speak, but in the instant he takes in the Scryers and the Headmaster, his jaw snaps shut. He shuffles over to Kalac and Devin, his armload of papers and books quietly rustling. Gamble clears his throat.
"Ahem," he whispers. "I have the information you requested. But I should, ah, caution you about what manner of allies you are willing to seek..." Gamble raises a strange phylactery to his mouth, pressing it and inhaling a spritz of gas.
The spiders crawled up by way of the Crippled God's track. They must be confident in their dominance to so boldy display themselves. The spider rarely crawls into the open. This recent show of force was most probably a feint. We should be wary of a true strike from the darkness.
The spirits tell us of a swarm of Myconids in the deeps that lack guidance. Perhaps their strength could be added to ours?
Much of the Feydark has yet to choose sides in our conflict. Perhaps we could invite the insectoids or the Grotto? The Drow are offensive and the Formians easy to offend. As we have seen, illusion is a powerful weapon.
Creatures from across the planes have lost themselves in the Underdark. Scattered and desperate soldiers wander together and alone, hunting the surface or safety. A gathering of young dragons lurks in the Shallows, unsure of its ability to protect themselves. In the Deeps, a city of angels and devils hides from the gods. Mindlfayers look to conquer, Aboleths to destroy, and both watch and laugh as the gods battle each other. Small towns hunker and hide from the warring sides, the last vestiges of fallen empires and peoples not willing to die for the gods.
Torog's twisted Wrackspawn prey on them all, dragging all they can into a torture den to be remade in their king's terrifying image. Similarly, what Drow do not kill they enslave, and more and more of their armies are made from innocents and enemy soldiers cowed into obedience by terror and despair.
Your likeliest allies are, ah, your allies. The other forces that marched against the Drow, though none retain the strength they began with. Most of these that remain will be fighting the Drow in the Deeps, or guarding the known ways for armies to enter the Shallows.
Vincent Craddock, the College's representative, coughs suddenly. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open for a moment, revealing something bizarre. One of the mage's teeth has been replaced by an arcane contraption, a crystal-like object wound about with wire. The mage's mouth snaps shut, hiding the blue tooth from view. As Craddock massages his jaw, he raises a hand.
"I've just gotten an, er, update," he stammers. "Additional possible allies include, ahem," Craddock's eyes unfocus and he speaks as if someone is whispering the words into his ear, "dragons in the Shallows, refugees from the...really? my goodness! oh, um, sorry... Astral Sea, m-Mindflayers," he shudders, "Aboleths... " By now Craddock's face has gone gray. Suddenly, the put-upon wizard's expression brightens. "The College reminds us that the most likely allies are probably remnants of the other mortal armies, probably located in the Deeps or at the Shallows entrances."
"Every creature, even spiders, respect the power of dragons. We think that should be our next goal."
Alkey42 on
0
AegisFear My DanceOvershot Toronto, Landed in OttawaRegistered Userregular
edited October 2010
Jan's eyes perk up at the mention of all the strange communities hiding within the depths, "Oooooh, dragons! Have always wanted to see a dragon. Though, I wonder if we won't appear as food to them. Well...buffets really given the size of our forces."
We understand. How many short fleshlings will the Dragons have to devour before they will attack the spiders? How many can the mechanic spare and still maintain it's army?
Alkey42 on
0
AegisFear My DanceOvershot Toronto, Landed in OttawaRegistered Userregular
edited October 2010
"Perhaps the creatures might be open to eating the spiders as they kill them for us? Personally, it's a better option than feeding us to them.
"Owwwww!" Craddock's hand flies to his jaw. He shakes his head, as if to clear it. "Ah, the College seems interested in pursuing an alliance with the, uh, dragons, if possible." The mage swallows nervously.
Their path decided and their preparations made, Aeternum Servans begin their march to find the dragons beneath the world. You begin by tracing the route of the Drow, leaving the great cavern and the familiar screams of the torture dens behind. Too quickly, perhaps--it seems the Drow were quite thorough in silencing the dens they passed on approach.
Soon enough you reach the King's Highway, a wide road stained and held in place with divine blood around which the Underdark and its echoes shift and change. Strangely empty and lifeless, what is normally an active and busy road, for soldiers, merchants, and other denizens of the Underdark is all but abandoned, save yourselves and the still-flowing blood from the mad god's crawl. Soon you discover why.
A single creature stumbles and shambles along the road towards your alliance. Huge and twisted, wrapped in spiked chains and bleeding, you recognize the creature as the Cringe, an exarch of the King Who Crawls. Commanded to retrace his master's steps, the Cringe is the most active of the King's exarchs, and, if he feels the need to be, one of the more dangerous.
Upon hearing the reports from his forward scouts, Mareka sends out groups of his soldiers to stand as honor guard for the approaching exarch before swinging around on sargeant Jim heading back towards the other leaders.
"A powerful being approaches. I don't think his manner is threatening, but the emptiness of this road suggests he gives some cause for fear, or perhaps he is just an impressively thorough implementation of order in his district. We best tread carefully here." Mareka leafs through a pile of heavily battered but not heavily used law books that hang from the back of his saddle. "I think I had some information on laws and enforcement policies here somewhere.... Ummm... Crang? Craw? Cringe? Bah! Can't read any of this damn nonsense. Why do I even keep these things? I am the law!"
Mareka rips through his books in frustrated fury. "Ah... Serves the god of torture... allows torture... punishes through... ummm... torture... there's got to be something useful here."
Unlike most creatures of the King Who Crawls, the Cringe does not actively seek to capture, torture and enslave every being it comes across. Quite the opposite in fact: unless threatened or given orders by its master, the Cringe will ignore any creatures it comes across in favor of faithfully following the Highway.
The exception, of course, is for Drow and the occasional unlucky unaffiliated Fey creature it mistakes for Drow. Another of the King's commands, which the Cringe obeys dutifully, demands the death of any Drow found on the Highway.
"So it is the Cringe," Kalac Trin mutters. "In the flesh... so to speak." The tiefling wizardess is perched atop a crag, holding a strange metal tube up to her eye. Several circular lenses are attached to it via hinged arms, and Kalac snaps one of those lenses into place at the far end of the cylinder. The lurching monstrosity jumps into sharper focus as it drags its misshapen bulk along the King's Highway. Kalac sighs and lowers the device, clicking the arms into the cylindrical housing. A brimstone flash and suddenly she is elsewhere.
Arch-historian Gamble's office is neat, but to describe it that way is a little misleading. The professor's study contains many more books than should be possibly fit in such a small room, apparently organized by color and size rather than subject matter. Only Gamble himself would know where to find anything. It's a cramped space, a fact that Kalac notices as she rematerializes inside the room.
"Gamble," she says, "What do you know about Cringe?" The wheels in Kalac's head are already turning. It was comforting to think that the Cringe would not necessarily be a direct threat, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. There must be a way to turn the thing against their enemies...
History to see if there's anything else the College can dredge up on Cringe: 1d20+13=26
Insight to figure out a way to turn the Cringe to Aeternum Servans' advantage: 1d20+8=27
"It is one against many, it poses no threat even if it were hostile. But even so it may share valuable information. We can offer some guidance if required. "
Speak with Spirits will add +5 to a diplomacy or bluff check to the first person to ask for it, or any other check if they think it is important enough.
Long ago a demigod committed a great but necessary sin to protect the world. As repentance, the demigod looked to serve the King Who Crawls. The god of torment warped the demigod's form and set it to retrace the mad crawl that formed the Highway. The Cringe cannot complete its task--the Highway demands greater physical and supernatural capabilities than the Cringe's twisted form is capable of.
This isn't to say that the Cringe is not powerful. It has been on the winning side of many major battles for control of important stretches of the Highway; on at least one occasion, it was the winning side. The King Who Crawls did not steal or lessen the once-demigod's power--he only twisted it to better serve him.
Actually, speaking of major battles for the Highway, there should have been one fairly recently. This stretch of the Highway cuts directly into the Deeps, and a series of forts built by mortal armies had been built to keep Drow off the road. If the Drow have taken those, (likely,) getting into the Deeps will require a lot more effort than it might otherwise. Or perhaps the Cringe could clear that problem up for you.
High above the body of the College, there's a curious thing--the upper half of a tower fades into view. When the marching forces come to a halt, the lower half of the structure materializes, anchoring the floating edifice--although no one actually sees this happen. Turn your head, blink, and the lower half of the tower is suddenly there, as though it had been all along.
Abraxus stands perfectly still at one of the floating tower's balconies, his wrinkled hands folded in front of him. The Headmaster coolly regards the Cringe. His lip curls momentarily in what might be disgust, but then his eyes unfocus, looking beyond the Cringe, as his fingers trace the symbol of Asmodeus on his signet ring. His mouth straightens into a hard line.
*****
Devin Maret hears the Headmaster's voice in his ear as clearly as if the old eladrin were standing next to him.
"The Cringe could be of use to us. I will speak to it."
I'll give Diplomacy the ol' College try (and as much as it might appear that way, I haven't been waiting to say that) since I think the College has the best Diplomacy modifier (+11). We are not a talky group! I'll go ahead and use the Speak With Spirits bonus if no one objects or has another idea.
"Cringe." The Headmaster floated on a disc of crystal before the behemoth, his voice magically amplified by the spirits of the Astral Reticulum.
"You were not always as you are now. You were bright and beautiful, once. But you also had an understanding that so many lack." Abraxus's voice tightened. "You did what was necessary. Yes. You gave yourself over for a higher purpose. And yes, you pay the price. Too few properly comprehend this."
The Headmaster's voice fell silent for a moment. "There is a way to live within the bonds of servitude. You desired to protect the world, and you still may. It is irony most satisfying that Torog's chains give you the freedom to do this. The King Who Crawls orders that you must follow his Highway, yes, but does he not also command the death of any Drow on it? The Drow are a greater threat to this world than any that has been seen since your servitude began. Their vile Spider Queen has cast her lot with demons, with the evil that gnaws at existence itself."
"As the King's Highway crawls into the Deeps, there you will find the Drow, scurrying little rats. Crush them. Do what is necessary--choose to do it, as you once did. You have the power of a demigod still--exercise it."
AegisFear My DanceOvershot Toronto, Landed in OttawaRegistered Userregular
edited October 2010
"This...thing we've stopped to examine is so...hideous. Wonder at times whether we're chasing the right people, eh? Oh frak it...stand still already so I can see what the hells I'm tinkering with," the technician says with a light smack on the side of the warforged's head as the group of gnomes quickly mull about a squad of crystals and tinmen alike, performing necessary repairs as the armies travel within the deep.
"Think of the alternative Lei, least these monstrosities leave the gutting to their own mandates and don't think o' invading the surface."
"Still doesn't seem right," technician Lei responds with a shake of her head, waving off the current warforged while waiting for the next in line to get situated in the makeshift reparation area, "They're cruel, disgusting, in agony...it's not right that we should just let them stew in their own lot or ignore them altogether. Some of these people likely had families, you know?"
The older man shrugs before cursing a piece of nicked crystal that goes flying away from his hammer strike and signalling for a replacement piece, "Doubt they're even still alive. Take this...thing...we seem to have stumbled upon. Probably been alive e're since you were a tiny glint in yer folks' eyes."
Lei sighs as she looks on towards the King's Highway at the assembled armies. Arranged along the road and to the side of the massive construction, all the camps overlook the massive chained figure of the Cringe resting for the moment as groups of each army parley with it out in the open.
Janson looks on as the diplomatic efforts seem to struggle under the very perceptible weight of the Cringe's own slowed sense of timing, deliberation, and action. Having not been able to shake the thought for days now that he should be considering something about this place he signals for a nearby aid, sipping a chilled brew of fermented turnip as the boy runs up to him, "Get me all the maps, books, pictures, diagrams, illustrations...I don't care what the hell it is...of the King's Highway that we have within our camp or within the College's portable libraries." Nodding quickly, the aid runs off in search of Jan's directives, dreading the thought of having to deal with the secretive mages and figuring he's likely going to have to bring some trade-able pieces of arcana with him to part with any information they might glean.
Rubbing his eyes from a quick night's rest, Jan looks up to make sure the Cringe is still sitting...or leaning at the front of the armies, relieved when he does see that that is the case. Moving over to his tent's large central desk, now covered with so many manuscripts as to conceal the fact that it is a desk, Jan climbs up the makeshift book stairway until he can comfortably peer down onto the table without getting a crick in his neck. Resting his refilled glass down on a metal coaster, Jan's eyes begin to meticulously scan the assembled notes, "Now then...there has to be something here about your Highway that can be of some great use to us."
History - King's Highway (Anything in its past, its current recorded construction, reach, etc. that can be applied to our current travels in searching out a path to dragons or projected drow encampments that either ourselves or this Cringe could use to our advantage in planning our routes, positioning ourselves, sending the Cringe towards, etc.), 1d20+16=25
The Cringe doesn't move for a long time, frozen save the dripping blood and twitching things that should have been hands. Then the thing speaks and everything hurts. The Highway echoes with the language of suffering, and the whole of the armies gathered understands: the Drow will die. The Cringe begins to move again, and the soldiers of Aeternum Servans open a path through their ranks to let it pass. Because they are not fools.
Headmaster Abraxsus
All of the forces gathered hear and understand the Cringe's message, though it uses no words. But like a firey brand, words come to Headmaster Abraxsus. YOU ARE WRONG
Clockwork Crusaders
The story of the Highway is also the story of the Underdark and the Crawling God.
Before the great and terrible Dawn War for dominance of the world, Torog was a beautiful god who knew nothing of pain. But bitter rivalry with the Primordial Gargash drew him into the Underdark, where they battled and where Torog eventually won. But Gargash left Torog with many scars and a dreadful curse: Torog's wounds would never heal, he would at last know pain, and he would never leave the Underdark.
In defiance and maddness the crippled god crawled, leaving a trail of blood and a stain of divine permanence in his wake. Unable to ascend to the surface, Torog tore through the earth and into the Underdark's echoes, but never found a way to freedom. In centuries, Torog calmed, and claimed the chaotic, blood-stained Underdark for himself.
Now the King's Highway stretches from within a mile of the surface to the deepest depths of the Underdark, through the sunless seas and into the Underdark's echoes. The Highway makes travel beneath the world possible--without using the Highway as a stable landmark, finding anything in the moving caves and tunnels would be nearly impossible. Even Drow rely on it to connect their civilization.
"Thing of walking agony, we too wish to see the spider undone. Desire to be an instrument in its undoing. Aid us, and rivers of spider blood will carve roads into the depths. "
Check to make sure it really is the cringe, and not a deugar thrall of a mindfalyer with a drow illusion thrown on it. Or anything else magical that might seem out of place. Arcana on Cringe: 1d20+1821
Try to get some reading off of the Cringe. Is it depressed? Afraid? Scared? Did it really beleive what it said about the drow? Or is it concerned that Torog will loose in this war? Insight on Cringe: 1d20+1722
The Cringe stops again, though this time amongst living soldiers who are treated to the smell of rotten blood and centuries-old infection that fills the Cringe's body. Then it speaks again, and again everything hurts. A place, a path, a direction. Five great stalagmites act as parapets for a structure of bone. Here, Aeternum Servans will find... aid.
Astral Reticulum
The Cringe appears to be a creature of great power--such as a demigod or divine exarch. The Many do detect a hint of infernal power, like that of the devils of the nine hells, but nothing to indicate that the Cringe is anything but itself.
The Cringe is a creature driven by guilt and anguish. It has given no real indication that it cares one way or another about the outcome of the war. Perhaps it believes that it has a foregone conclusion.
"Stalagmites supporting something made out of bone," Kalac fired off as she walked. Devin struggled to keep up. "That's what the living crystals said, or thought, or whatever it is they do. Get Gamble on it!"
Devin nodded and veered off, grateful for the change in pace.
It sounds like the Glutton's Teeth, a massive torture den that serves as Torog's primary place of power in the Shallows. A power base for Torog's worshipers in the Shallows and on the surface, the help offered there may not be the kind you would prefer.
Kalac Trin skims Arch-historian Gamble's report again, repressing a small shudder. The Glutton's Teeth sounded like a place from her nightmares. The tiefling smirks at herself. She believed she was actually glad that Aeternum Servans was making for a dragon's den.
The College's camp bustles around her as students and faculty break down their tents, equipment, and more fanciful structures. Suddenly, a ragged-looking Devin Maret emerges from the crowd ahead. His tunic and clothing are even more tattered and dirty than usual, and he seems to have small scratches on his face and arms.
"Mar-et!" gasps Kalac in mock (and some genuine) concern. "What happened to you? Been picking drunken fights with the gnomes?"
"Very funny," mutters Devin. "I was over by Arcane Horticulture, spreading the word about breaking camp. You heard the 'b' in 'breaking camp,' right? Well, they didn't, and two seconds later I was ass-deep in magical gardening equipment."
Kalac doubles over laughing and Devin finds himself grinning along sheepishly.
The College has broken camp and is starting towards yonder dragon's lair!
Aeternum Servans moves again, and soon its path leaves the King's Highway, through narrow tunnels and empty caverns. The sound of flowing water beckons the alliance forward, and it come to a wide, rapid river, the opposite shore well beyond the light of Aeternum Servans' torches. In the distance, perhaps on the other shore, bonfires burn, little more than sparks against the darkness.
The sound of the river is inescapable now. Aeternum Servans is camped on the shores of the underground flow, although for the moment none of the students or faculty of the College are eager to venture closer to the edge of the waterway, rimmed as it is with dark, slick rock. Devin rubs his eyes wearily as he mulls over the latest word from the crystal emissaries of the Reticulum.
"Whatsamatter, Maret?" teased a bleary-eyed Kalac Trin. "Past your bedtime?"
"You're not fooling anyone, Kalac," Devin allowed himself a wry smile. "You're just as tired as everyone else."
The tiefling shrugged, too exhausted to issue a comeback. Devin squinted at the flickering lights across the divide. "Hey, Kalac, the crystal men said they could build us a little bridge across here... you got any other ideas?"
Kalac tilted her head sardonically. "Devin. Who are you talking to again? With a little help, I should be able to make us a nice little door. We wouldn't even get wet."
"Good. We've got options. I also have an idea about how to get a little light over there..."
Alternately, the College can use Arcane Gate to link a spot on this side and on the other side, if you don't want to use up reagents.
Could the College use Light to try and illuminate the far side of the river? We're talking a range of 5 squares for conjuring the light, and the light itself sheds radiance for 4 squares.
Saurfang on
0
AegisFear My DanceOvershot Toronto, Landed in OttawaRegistered Userregular
edited November 2010
A pair of diminutive scout leaders stand between the observation points along the shore that the assembled armies were looking to cross, "A path might be nice," one of the gnomes remarks, looking through a pair of cylindrical hide-bound glass tubes as the second gnome finishes his sentence, "Though for all of us at once or a small group to see what is on the other side? If we need it, I could put in a request higher up for some loud shouting voices to be attached to our scouts."
"Open your door, we will reach through it and see what is there."
Assuming the psychic communications can pass through the door, I can send scouts through the door and immediately report. Plus I think I have the highest perception.
The whole thing was curiously quiet. Around the tiefling wizardess, awed students manipulated strange, silvery devices, aligning them in mysterious patterns and carefully calibrating their delicate moving parts. Kalac herself was in the middle, her brow furrowed in concentration as she moved her arms and hands in deliberate, graceful motion. As Devin watched, outside of the radius of bustling students, he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. The air seemed thicker, somehow.
The world rippled like a pebble-struck pond. Underneath an invisible arch, a space wide enough for a battalion to pass through was wavering, the colors blurring. Kalac relaxed, revealing how tense she'd been. A drop of sweat beaded on her brow. "A lot more difficult than instantaneous translocation of even a single army," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I can keep it open for some time, but it'll take some help."
The College'll use the daily utility Arcane Gate to create a portal from this side of the river to the other. They'll continue to sustain the power while it's in use.
From seemingly random arrangement of shardminds throughout the camp a pattern emerges. Two dozen of the crystal beings collect in front of the portal. They are all of a darker shade of colored minerals, black onyx and dark grey hawk's eye. At once they begin to sulk in a crouched position through the portal. Splitting into smaller groups then individuals, they cover a large amount of ground in a relatively small time, relaying what they can sense to their kin on the other side of the portal.
Stealth if it is needed: 1d20+424 oh now you crit
The shardminds blend in well with the rocks that make up the area. Their movement easily confused with dancing shadows from the fires.
On the other side of the gate, you find yourself(ves?) on the edge of a great encampment, though more sparsely populated and obviously more widely spread than it needs to be. The inhabitants you do see appear to be mostly Hobgoblin or Goblin soldiers. You see many banners and flags raised; they bear the symbol of Bane, god of war and tyranny.
It's hard to tell if you could take them--by the numbers, you could, but Bane's teachings are largely military strategy. Even winning could cost you.
There's no way around them, short of backtracking a bit and looking for another route entirely. Passing without conflict depends on what they want.
The many scout the goblin army and return through the portal.
"The many suggest parlay with the greenskins. Bane is not an entity we should make conflict with unless it is required. Such energies are wasted if not expended against spiders."
Assuming this is another encounter, we can spirit talker to aid diplomacy again.
Go into the academic life, they said. You'll get see the world, and you won't have to go to war to do it! Vincent Craddock sighs what was may have be the most forlorn sigh on record, clocking in at 576 sads. He had wanted to travel, yes... but as he stepped through the shimmering pane and the campfires of Bane's army jumped into sharp focus, he was sure this was not what he had meant.
Craddock gulped and nervously looked at his delegation. A contingent of "battle-mages" accomopanied him. Battle-mages...ha! Craddock had known some of these faculty members for years, and some of them were students, for Ioun's sake! They were all in the middle of finals week a few months ago! Some of them had, however, taken to this whole "battle-mage" thing like a duck to water. Professor Simms, in particular, who'd always been a quiet, withdrawn man, was an absolute terror on the battlefield. And although these battle-mages were hardly trained warriors, all of them wielded deadly magic--Craddock drew comfort and dread from this last thought.
The delegation marches forward, toward the hobgoblin camp. As they come within sight of the camp, they raise a white flag. Craddock nervously fiddles with the "shouting voice" lent him by enthusiastic gnomes. He fiddled with the knobs on the device, and suddenly there's a short burst of feedback.
Craddock lifts the shouting voice to his lips. "Army of warlike Bane! We seek parley with you. We are no friends of the Spider Queen, our mutual enemy in the darkness! If there is a way our mighty armies might work together to crush the Spider Queen in glorious Bane's name, we would welcome it!"
Posts
Perception: Scouting/Tracking Drow army to its origin 1d20+15 25
While some of the many break into smaller scouting bands, others commune with the primal spirits, in an attempt to find allies against the drow.
Nature to find Allies: 1d20+15 34 Specifically requesting information about Fungoid and Formian possibilities.
77/77HP 9/9Surges 24AC/21Fort/23Ref/26Will 1AP Resist 10 Psychic 25PP 27PI
The Fomorians are a powerful but universally mad race, unpredictable, prideful and dangerous. Though some smaller Fomorian kingdoms have chosen a side in the war, the greatest have remained out of it as well as they can. That said, Fomorian rivalries are fierce, and you might get an effective ally if you can exploit their strange politics.
The primal spirits speak to the Many about a "Living Grotto," a specific forest of fungus within the Feydark, as well as a mobile, massive fungus colony lost in the Deeps of the Underdark. There are many colonies throughout the Feydark, but these, it seems, would be the best options for you. The spirits give a final word of warning: sapient fungi rarely see intelligent living creatures as anything other than food.
Dungeoneering: 1d20+8=28
Arch-historian Gamble stumbles into the chamber, glasses askew, his mouth open to speak, but in the instant he takes in the Scryers and the Headmaster, his jaw snaps shut. He shuffles over to Kalac and Devin, his armload of papers and books quietly rustling. Gamble clears his throat.
"Ahem," he whispers. "I have the information you requested. But I should, ah, caution you about what manner of allies you are willing to seek..." Gamble raises a strange phylactery to his mouth, pressing it and inhaling a spritz of gas.
History: 1d20+13=24
Streetwise: 1d20+6=22
The spirits tell us of a swarm of Myconids in the deeps that lack guidance. Perhaps their strength could be added to ours?
Much of the Feydark has yet to choose sides in our conflict. Perhaps we could invite the insectoids or the Grotto? The Drow are offensive and the Formians easy to offend. As we have seen, illusion is a powerful weapon.
Torog's twisted Wrackspawn prey on them all, dragging all they can into a torture den to be remade in their king's terrifying image. Similarly, what Drow do not kill they enslave, and more and more of their armies are made from innocents and enemy soldiers cowed into obedience by terror and despair.
Your likeliest allies are, ah, your allies. The other forces that marched against the Drow, though none retain the strength they began with. Most of these that remain will be fighting the Drow in the Deeps, or guarding the known ways for armies to enter the Shallows.
"I've just gotten an, er, update," he stammers. "Additional possible allies include, ahem," Craddock's eyes unfocus and he speaks as if someone is whispering the words into his ear, "dragons in the Shallows, refugees from the...really? my goodness! oh, um, sorry... Astral Sea, m-Mindflayers," he shudders, "Aboleths... " By now Craddock's face has gone gray. Suddenly, the put-upon wizard's expression brightens. "The College reminds us that the most likely allies are probably remnants of the other mortal armies, probably located in the Deeps or at the Shallows entrances."
Currently DMing: None
Characters
[5e] Dural Melairkyn - AC 18 | HP 40 | Melee +5/1d8+3 | Spell +4/DC 12
Currently DMing: None
Characters
[5e] Dural Melairkyn - AC 18 | HP 40 | Melee +5/1d8+3 | Spell +4/DC 12
Soon enough you reach the King's Highway, a wide road stained and held in place with divine blood around which the Underdark and its echoes shift and change. Strangely empty and lifeless, what is normally an active and busy road, for soldiers, merchants, and other denizens of the Underdark is all but abandoned, save yourselves and the still-flowing blood from the mad god's crawl. Soon you discover why.
A single creature stumbles and shambles along the road towards your alliance. Huge and twisted, wrapped in spiked chains and bleeding, you recognize the creature as the Cringe, an exarch of the King Who Crawls. Commanded to retrace his master's steps, the Cringe is the most active of the King's exarchs, and, if he feels the need to be, one of the more dangerous.
"A powerful being approaches. I don't think his manner is threatening, but the emptiness of this road suggests he gives some cause for fear, or perhaps he is just an impressively thorough implementation of order in his district. We best tread carefully here." Mareka leafs through a pile of heavily battered but not heavily used law books that hang from the back of his saddle. "I think I had some information on laws and enforcement policies here somewhere.... Ummm... Crang? Craw? Cringe? Bah! Can't read any of this damn nonsense. Why do I even keep these things? I am the law!"
Mareka rips through his books in frustrated fury. "Ah... Serves the god of torture... allows torture... punishes through... ummm... torture... there's got to be something useful here."
History: 1d20+4 19
Play with me on Steam
The exception, of course, is for Drow and the occasional unlucky unaffiliated Fey creature it mistakes for Drow. Another of the King's commands, which the Cringe obeys dutifully, demands the death of any Drow found on the Highway.
Arch-historian Gamble's office is neat, but to describe it that way is a little misleading. The professor's study contains many more books than should be possibly fit in such a small room, apparently organized by color and size rather than subject matter. Only Gamble himself would know where to find anything. It's a cramped space, a fact that Kalac notices as she rematerializes inside the room.
"Gamble," she says, "What do you know about Cringe?" The wheels in Kalac's head are already turning. It was comforting to think that the Cringe would not necessarily be a direct threat, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. There must be a way to turn the thing against their enemies...
History to see if there's anything else the College can dredge up on Cringe: 1d20+13=26
Insight to figure out a way to turn the Cringe to Aeternum Servans' advantage: 1d20+8=27
Speak with Spirits will add +5 to a diplomacy or bluff check to the first person to ask for it, or any other check if they think it is important enough.
This isn't to say that the Cringe is not powerful. It has been on the winning side of many major battles for control of important stretches of the Highway; on at least one occasion, it was the winning side. The King Who Crawls did not steal or lessen the once-demigod's power--he only twisted it to better serve him.
Actually, speaking of major battles for the Highway, there should have been one fairly recently. This stretch of the Highway cuts directly into the Deeps, and a series of forts built by mortal armies had been built to keep Drow off the road. If the Drow have taken those, (likely,) getting into the Deeps will require a lot more effort than it might otherwise. Or perhaps the Cringe could clear that problem up for you.
Abraxus stands perfectly still at one of the floating tower's balconies, his wrinkled hands folded in front of him. The Headmaster coolly regards the Cringe. His lip curls momentarily in what might be disgust, but then his eyes unfocus, looking beyond the Cringe, as his fingers trace the symbol of Asmodeus on his signet ring. His mouth straightens into a hard line.
*****
Devin Maret hears the Headmaster's voice in his ear as clearly as if the old eladrin were standing next to him.
"The Cringe could be of use to us. I will speak to it."
I'll give Diplomacy the ol' College try (and as much as it might appear that way, I haven't been waiting to say that) since I think the College has the best Diplomacy modifier (+11). We are not a talky group! I'll go ahead and use the Speak With Spirits bonus if no one objects or has another idea.
"You were not always as you are now. You were bright and beautiful, once. But you also had an understanding that so many lack." Abraxus's voice tightened. "You did what was necessary. Yes. You gave yourself over for a higher purpose. And yes, you pay the price. Too few properly comprehend this."
The Headmaster's voice fell silent for a moment. "There is a way to live within the bonds of servitude. You desired to protect the world, and you still may. It is irony most satisfying that Torog's chains give you the freedom to do this. The King Who Crawls orders that you must follow his Highway, yes, but does he not also command the death of any Drow on it? The Drow are a greater threat to this world than any that has been seen since your servitude began. Their vile Spider Queen has cast her lot with demons, with the evil that gnaws at existence itself."
"As the King's Highway crawls into the Deeps, there you will find the Drow, scurrying little rats. Crush them. Do what is necessary--choose to do it, as you once did. You have the power of a demigod still--exercise it."
Diplomacy: 1d20+11+5=28
"Think of the alternative Lei, least these monstrosities leave the gutting to their own mandates and don't think o' invading the surface."
"Still doesn't seem right," technician Lei responds with a shake of her head, waving off the current warforged while waiting for the next in line to get situated in the makeshift reparation area, "They're cruel, disgusting, in agony...it's not right that we should just let them stew in their own lot or ignore them altogether. Some of these people likely had families, you know?"
The older man shrugs before cursing a piece of nicked crystal that goes flying away from his hammer strike and signalling for a replacement piece, "Doubt they're even still alive. Take this...thing...we seem to have stumbled upon. Probably been alive e're since you were a tiny glint in yer folks' eyes."
Lei sighs as she looks on towards the King's Highway at the assembled armies. Arranged along the road and to the side of the massive construction, all the camps overlook the massive chained figure of the Cringe resting for the moment as groups of each army parley with it out in the open.
Janson looks on as the diplomatic efforts seem to struggle under the very perceptible weight of the Cringe's own slowed sense of timing, deliberation, and action. Having not been able to shake the thought for days now that he should be considering something about this place he signals for a nearby aid, sipping a chilled brew of fermented turnip as the boy runs up to him, "Get me all the maps, books, pictures, diagrams, illustrations...I don't care what the hell it is...of the King's Highway that we have within our camp or within the College's portable libraries." Nodding quickly, the aid runs off in search of Jan's directives, dreading the thought of having to deal with the secretive mages and figuring he's likely going to have to bring some trade-able pieces of arcana with him to part with any information they might glean.
Rubbing his eyes from a quick night's rest, Jan looks up to make sure the Cringe is still sitting...or leaning at the front of the armies, relieved when he does see that that is the case. Moving over to his tent's large central desk, now covered with so many manuscripts as to conceal the fact that it is a desk, Jan climbs up the makeshift book stairway until he can comfortably peer down onto the table without getting a crick in his neck. Resting his refilled glass down on a metal coaster, Jan's eyes begin to meticulously scan the assembled notes, "Now then...there has to be something here about your Highway that can be of some great use to us."
History - King's Highway (Anything in its past, its current recorded construction, reach, etc. that can be applied to our current travels in searching out a path to dragons or projected drow encampments that either ourselves or this Cringe could use to our advantage in planning our routes, positioning ourselves, sending the Cringe towards, etc.), 1d20+16=25
Currently DMing: None
Characters
[5e] Dural Melairkyn - AC 18 | HP 40 | Melee +5/1d8+3 | Spell +4/DC 12
The Cringe doesn't move for a long time, frozen save the dripping blood and twitching things that should have been hands. Then the thing speaks and everything hurts. The Highway echoes with the language of suffering, and the whole of the armies gathered understands: the Drow will die. The Cringe begins to move again, and the soldiers of Aeternum Servans open a path through their ranks to let it pass. Because they are not fools.
Headmaster Abraxsus
YOU ARE WRONG
Clockwork Crusaders
Before the great and terrible Dawn War for dominance of the world, Torog was a beautiful god who knew nothing of pain. But bitter rivalry with the Primordial Gargash drew him into the Underdark, where they battled and where Torog eventually won. But Gargash left Torog with many scars and a dreadful curse: Torog's wounds would never heal, he would at last know pain, and he would never leave the Underdark.
In defiance and maddness the crippled god crawled, leaving a trail of blood and a stain of divine permanence in his wake. Unable to ascend to the surface, Torog tore through the earth and into the Underdark's echoes, but never found a way to freedom. In centuries, Torog calmed, and claimed the chaotic, blood-stained Underdark for himself.
Now the King's Highway stretches from within a mile of the surface to the deepest depths of the Underdark, through the sunless seas and into the Underdark's echoes. The Highway makes travel beneath the world possible--without using the Highway as a stable landmark, finding anything in the moving caves and tunnels would be nearly impossible. Even Drow rely on it to connect their civilization.
He traces the symbol of Asmodeus on his signet ring. The metal band is tight on his finger.
Diplomacy on Cringe: 1d20+5 25 CRIT!
Check to make sure it really is the cringe, and not a deugar thrall of a mindfalyer with a drow illusion thrown on it. Or anything else magical that might seem out of place.
Arcana on Cringe: 1d20+18 21
Try to get some reading off of the Cringe. Is it depressed? Afraid? Scared? Did it really beleive what it said about the drow? Or is it concerned that Torog will loose in this war?
Insight on Cringe: 1d20+17 22
77/77HP 9/9Surges 24AC/21Fort/23Ref/26Will 1AP Resist 10 Psychic 25PP 27PI
Astral Reticulum
The Cringe is a creature driven by guilt and anguish. It has given no real indication that it cares one way or another about the outcome of the war. Perhaps it believes that it has a foregone conclusion.
Devin nodded and veered off, grateful for the change in pace.
History: 1d20+13=20
The College's camp bustles around her as students and faculty break down their tents, equipment, and more fanciful structures. Suddenly, a ragged-looking Devin Maret emerges from the crowd ahead. His tunic and clothing are even more tattered and dirty than usual, and he seems to have small scratches on his face and arms.
"Mar-et!" gasps Kalac in mock (and some genuine) concern. "What happened to you? Been picking drunken fights with the gnomes?"
"Very funny," mutters Devin. "I was over by Arcane Horticulture, spreading the word about breaking camp. You heard the 'b' in 'breaking camp,' right? Well, they didn't, and two seconds later I was ass-deep in magical gardening equipment."
Kalac doubles over laughing and Devin finds himself grinning along sheepishly.
The College has broken camp and is starting towards yonder dragon's lair!
Perception across River: 1d20+15 21
"We can solidify the shadows for a time. If we require a path over the liquid. Although it will be temporary, and we do not know what awaits us."
I have the shadow bridge ritual.
"Whatsamatter, Maret?" teased a bleary-eyed Kalac Trin. "Past your bedtime?"
"You're not fooling anyone, Kalac," Devin allowed himself a wry smile. "You're just as tired as everyone else."
The tiefling shrugged, too exhausted to issue a comeback. Devin squinted at the flickering lights across the divide. "Hey, Kalac, the crystal men said they could build us a little bridge across here... you got any other ideas?"
Kalac tilted her head sardonically. "Devin. Who are you talking to again? With a little help, I should be able to make us a nice little door. We wouldn't even get wet."
"Good. We've got options. I also have an idea about how to get a little light over there..."
Alternately, the College can use Arcane Gate to link a spot on this side and on the other side, if you don't want to use up reagents.
Could the College use Light to try and illuminate the far side of the river? We're talking a range of 5 squares for conjuring the light, and the light itself sheds radiance for 4 squares.
Currently DMing: None
Characters
[5e] Dural Melairkyn - AC 18 | HP 40 | Melee +5/1d8+3 | Spell +4/DC 12
Assuming the psychic communications can pass through the door, I can send scouts through the door and immediately report. Plus I think I have the highest perception.
77/77HP 9/9Surges 24AC/21Fort/23Ref/26Will 1AP Resist 10 Psychic 25PP 27PI
The world rippled like a pebble-struck pond. Underneath an invisible arch, a space wide enough for a battalion to pass through was wavering, the colors blurring. Kalac relaxed, revealing how tense she'd been. A drop of sweat beaded on her brow. "A lot more difficult than instantaneous translocation of even a single army," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I can keep it open for some time, but it'll take some help."
The College'll use the daily utility Arcane Gate to create a portal from this side of the river to the other. They'll continue to sustain the power while it's in use.
Perception on the beach: 1d20+15 20
Stealth if it is needed: 1d20+4 24 oh now you crit
The shardminds blend in well with the rocks that make up the area. Their movement easily confused with dancing shadows from the fires.
77/77HP 9/9Surges 24AC/21Fort/23Ref/26Will 1AP Resist 10 Psychic 25PP 27PI
How many are there, could we take them? Are they blocking the path or is it reasonable that we could pass them without conflict?
There's no way around them, short of backtracking a bit and looking for another route entirely. Passing without conflict depends on what they want.
"The many suggest parlay with the greenskins. Bane is not an entity we should make conflict with unless it is required. Such energies are wasted if not expended against spiders."
Assuming this is another encounter, we can spirit talker to aid diplomacy again.
Craddock gulped and nervously looked at his delegation. A contingent of "battle-mages" accomopanied him. Battle-mages...ha! Craddock had known some of these faculty members for years, and some of them were students, for Ioun's sake! They were all in the middle of finals week a few months ago! Some of them had, however, taken to this whole "battle-mage" thing like a duck to water. Professor Simms, in particular, who'd always been a quiet, withdrawn man, was an absolute terror on the battlefield. And although these battle-mages were hardly trained warriors, all of them wielded deadly magic--Craddock drew comfort and dread from this last thought.
The delegation marches forward, toward the hobgoblin camp. As they come within sight of the camp, they raise a white flag. Craddock nervously fiddles with the "shouting voice" lent him by enthusiastic gnomes. He fiddled with the knobs on the device, and suddenly there's a short burst of feedback.
Craddock lifts the shouting voice to his lips. "Army of warlike Bane! We seek parley with you. We are no friends of the Spider Queen, our mutual enemy in the darkness! If there is a way our mighty armies might work together to crush the Spider Queen in glorious Bane's name, we would welcome it!"
Diplomacy: 1d20+11=23