From now on I’d like Bran and Gisard to roll +2 on Aid rolls. Write up another bond for them. Bran’s might be “Gisard risked his neck for me, I should return the favour” and Gisard’s might be “I must keep Bran alive to tease Pythagon’s knowledge from his head” or just that you actually consider him a friend.
NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
edited May 2019
Bran draws his bow on the creature, but keeps his distance and holds the shot.
"What's the play here, Gisard? I want back on the train, but if you've got a quick scheme here, let it fly." There's a clear trepidation in the rogue's voice at the suggestion of anything but bouncing back to the train.
Bran's new bond with Gisard:
"I see the visage of the Snake God Pythagon when I look at Gisard, and need to know more."
Bran's never been one for academics, but he conversed with a deific being. It's left a mark, and he now sees Gisard as his only source to understand what that means.
OOC: Endless, on that damage Bran just took, does Armor count?
OOC: Yup! Unless I expressly say it ignores it always count your armour.
Nothing for me to post right now. It’s up to you what you do next.
I will say that the sprites know quite a bit about Glamjin, so Holly should ask them a few things.
Edit: Altered for some typos.
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GrogMy sword is only steelin a useful shape.Registered Userregular
Oblivious to the tumbling above the train, Holly is completely enamoured with the sprites. After vicious vampires and scheming mages it's a relief to find creatures that are so adorable.
Placing her skull on the ground to better speak with he diminutive beings, she probes them with questions trying to ascertain the nature of Glamjin's bindings and threats.
They all talk over each other (some tiny ones just make noises and roll around) until a much older looking sprite pushes her way to the front and calms them down.
“Ahem hem! Shush! Shushes for you all!”, the floral crone says primly.
She explains that they can’t leave while the sigils covering the floor and ceiling are intact, though for anyone other than themselves it should be quite easy to break the binding just by destroying some the markings. However, doing so will curse the one who dares to break the spell.
“Hm hm! You want to know about the master?”, she wavers and looks back at the other sprites, “None here is olden enough to know a time when he was not the master, saves I.”
She takes a breath a rolls up her petalled sleeves, “I’ll be needing song!”
“And dancing!”, some gleefully cry, “And glittery lights! And shadow shapes!”
“Aye, lets tell a tale as only we can!”, a butch little beetle sprite says from atop your skull.
When the worlds were young, and the veils between them thin, there were five heroes bold.
The Fighter, the Wizard, the Cleric, the Thief and lastly the Bard, who spread their tales throughout Creation.
So brave, so strong, so good were they, O’ those grandiose deities, just wisps of dream dust and fancy then, invited the heroes to their golden palace.
For a time the heroes feasted, for a time they jousted, for a time the heroes played, but in the end they returned to the material— Save the Bard.
For just as the Thief stole coin, the Bard stole hearts. He whispered sweet honeyed words to the daughter of Sun and Moon, the goddess of travel, of movement, of the parting of veils, of the spaces between.
Many are her names, Ajarri, Portania, Oshna, Amlah, T’lamaythu are but a few, and the Bard spoke each one more dearly than the last.
The Bard took her heart and so her power, and flew. Bereft, the goddess fell into a deep slumber. None could catch him, none could tame is wild whim. Never again would he know defeat.
And yet, the Bard remained mortal, for he was no god...
But the Bard knew stories, the magic they held and still hold... and so he returned to his companions... and devoured their light, their courage, their heroism, casting their stories into fading myth. Their names are long forgotten.
The Bard became Glamjin, worst of the Fair Folk, he without court, promise-breaker, chaos-painter, chain-maker even of we the free people.”
“He is a bad fairy”, a tiny mite agrees sagely.
“Ahem hem. Now the once storyteller drags souls from across the worlds to overcome his challenges in the hopes that some will possess the heroic spark he desires to snuff out, all so that he may continue to live. Immortality has the highest of prices, though tis not he who pays.”
“...I wish you didn’t have to be smushed, nice skellington.”, a butterfly winged sprite says finally behind floods of pinprick sized tears.
“Err... mayhaps we’ll change the topic. Aught else you want to ask us lassy?”, calls down a plump bearded spite who’s sat where your skull would be.
—
Things to consider:
If he must maintain his immortality, he must be at his weakest just before he renews it.
You’ve seen demons, ghosts and an angel, so perhaps an afterlife is waiting for him, and it doubtless won’t be kindly towards him.
Glamjin is a fairy, and if these sprites have weaknesses, he will share them to some degree.
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GrogMy sword is only steelin a useful shape.Registered Userregular
Holly gives a clattering of applause at the sprites' delightful telling, then raises a polite finger.
"A few clarifying questions, if I may. Question the first: what curse would befall me if I were to break your bonds? Question the second: if my quarry is a fairy, what weaknesses does that give him?"
She gently moves the bearded sprite to her shoulder and replaces her skull while she queries.
"Oh! And question the third: is there a brake system sufficient to stop us flying off the end of the tracks and into the ether?"
Bran draws his bow on the creature, but keeps his distance and holds the shot.
"What's the play here, Gisard? I want back on the train, but if you've got a quick scheme here, let it fly." There's a clear trepidation in the rogue's voice at the suggestion of anything but bouncing back to the train.
Bran's new bond with Gisard:
"I see the visage of the Snake God Pythagon when I look at Gisard, and need to know more."
Bran's never been one for academics, but he conversed with a deific being. It's left a mark, and he now sees Gisard as his only source to understand what that means.
OOC: Endless, on that damage Bran just took, does Armor count?
"Um... hmm. Nope." To the creature: "Well met, and fare well!" Gisard hikes up his robe and runs for the train.
“Oh oh! I know!”, says one doing a handstand on a lump of coal.
“You do?”, asks another.
She falls over, “Not really, but it’s definitely terrible.”
The old one shakes her head, throwing sparkles left and right, “Fear of the unknown is the eldest fear. Could be something traditional like turning into a slug, or... Glamjin can be very creative in his cruelty... my own sons were...”
She trails off, then pats a little one on the head when it looks up at her.
The plump sprite on your shoulder leans over to you and gives a stage whisper, “That’s not generally polite to ask, but I’ll tell you one and you must tell me one for yourself in return, deal?”
This is a fairy contract, you have to answer: What is your weakness? It can be physical or a failing of character, it’s up to you.
“You’ll be needing a weapon of rawest iron that knows itself. Cold iron they used to call it. I’ve heard some call such a thing a mortal blade. Could be a hammer though.”, he muses, “Still, the weapon must be without history, without even a hint of magic, and it must be mag... magna... it’s got to stick to other iron. But not magically. I don’t know the first thing about how, but that stuff can cut through glamour and really hurt a fairy!”
That tiny mite pretends to die, legs flung upwards.
For your last question they all look a bit blank. Coal is slapped from the hands of a daffodil looking sprite who’s still been throwing handfuls into the furnace this whole time.
“That horrible conductor stops the train when we get into stations, it’s our job to get it moving.”
Bran, you feel like you’ve got the knack for this!
You corkscrew at a tremendous velocity, bursting the billowing steam into a satisfying ring. You momentarily speed off in front of the train, which shocks you enough that you begin to slow down gradually.
A few feet above the leading car, you drop like a sack of potatoes.
Holly, you hear a thunk.
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GrogMy sword is only steelin a useful shape.Registered Userregular
"My apologies, of course I shall reciprocate." She reflects for a moment, mostly for dramatic effect. "Revenge is what I seek, for the terrible undeath Glamjin has cursed me with. I am an arrow flying straight and true toward his heart, but one thing that could deflect my course? Another chance at life."
At the thunk she removes her head again and lifts it out through the window.
"Ah, there you are!" Bran sees Holly's skull poke up over the side of the lead car's roof. "I see you've had some practice traversing imaginarial space but we've some adorable innocents to rescue before we leap from this infernal engine! Come inside!"
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
Bran, somewhat confused but emboldened by his newfound skill, grabs a handhold and flips down into the engine car.
The amulet speaks quietly as you pass a bemused looking grey elf.
“I hold that this locomotive will not stop in time. I was able to perceive our destination during your woefully miscalculated action that threatened both our— your retrievable of the human thief.”
The elf follows you a few paces behind. He isn’t trying to hide that fact. He hasn’t said anything to you though.
The amulet continues, “Ideally the breaks would be beside the engine, but I fear Glamjin has rigged this situation. We must assume everything is a test.”
The amulet glows crimson through your robes.
“Yes. The is a Place of Power!”
Gisard, the train is a place of power (on your own world great temples, crossings of leylines and a dragon’s tomb would exude a similar level of power) that can enhance your abilities. You can conduct a ritual here.
The Ritual move from your class:
Ritual
When you draw on a place of power to create a magical effect, tell the GM what you’re trying to achieve. Ritual effects are always possible, but the GM will give you one to four of the following conditions:
- It’s going to take days/weeks/months.
- First you must X.
- You’ll need help from X.
- It will require a lot of money.
- The best you can do is a lesser version, unreliable and limited.
- You and your allies will risk danger from X.
- You’ll have to disenchant X to do it.
By the time the amulet finishes talking you’re in front of Sir Krig, who is doing his best doorman impression.
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
Bran, getting the low-down from Holly and the sprites, and then putting eyes on the myriad ensorcelments in the car, straightens up and says,
"Y'know what we need? Definitely not a thief. We double-definitely need a mage. I think I saw Gisard land a car back."
Bran opens the car door, only to be met with the backside of the hulking Sir Krig.
Krig goes into a classic what do you want? intimidation bit, but is cut short when it looks like someone already got passed him.
“How! You... the sneaking scoundrel. Bah. What treachery is this undead fiend? That your allies accost me from all sides?”
The grey elf manages to speak up, “I don’t think anyone is trying to trick you. But I do know that we need to stop this train. Might you let us in sir?”
There’s a bucket of sarcasm on ‘sir’, but the knight doesn’t pick up on it.
He turns to you Gisard, “I saw you two flying, but just suppose gravity works by the island. We might not be able to give that a go when we’re right beside it. The island might have its own localised forces. Just something to dwell on.”
From down the train Sir Krig and his party exchange some hand signals. You don’t know what that’s about.
Conducting a ritual (if you do at all) has nothing to do with freeing the sprites.
Though the sprites have ceased fuelling the train it continues to barrel onwards! The cars shudder as it makes the final winding turn towards the emerald island hanging in the grey sky. Everyone tenses a moment as the train begins to descend down a slope.
The island is close now, so close you can pick out individual trees and hear the shriek of strange birds puncture the noisy rattle of the train.
You’re very close to your destination.
Also, a sprite has put a lump of coal in your sock Bran, and kissed it goodnight.
Gisard considers the amulet's advice, and looks out the window at their oncoming (no items, fox only,) final destination. "There'sss not much time." Gisard is unfamiliar with trains and doesn't even know what to look for in terms of a braking system, so unless anyone else offers any bight ideas he prepares to Do A Ritual. To do... something.
Brainstorming time: Stop the train? Mass teleport everyone onto the island? Fly the train around? Maybe dedicate it to Pythagon and turn the train into a big, helpful snake? A big feathered serpent that can fly and doesn't want to eat us? That would be cool but that's probably a bit too cleric-y and outside of Gisard's wheelhouse. Maybe just animate the train like a sorcerer's apprentice-style broomstick or imbue it with a demon like the vampire lord's boss monster, so that it can operate itself and stop itself. And build its own track instead of relying on Glamjin's servitors! That would be cool. Be free, ghost train! I bet the amulet knows some things about binding demons into things, given what we've seen of its previous owner's work.
... Perhaps we could use one of Bran's deck demons for this?
I’ll tell you before you commit to it. Here are some obvious choices as examples. You can always fall back on these if you don’t like the more dangerous or intricate possibilities.
•*~Rituals~*•
Gisard’s Train Stop
Your ritual draws the train to a steady halt.
- You’ll need help from the another magic user. Find one and convince them.
- You’ll need a diamond to act as a conductor for the ritual.
- Afterwards you may be paralysed for a short time.
Gisard’s Mass Teleport
Your ritual teleports every living thing on the train onto the island. You will arrive somewhere on the edge. The sprites will not be teleported unless the magic binding them is broken first.
- You’ll be drained of magic, as if you’d forgotten all your spells. You’ll need to rest up to cast again.
- You will take harm in the casting. This will not be damage to your HP.
- You cannot guarantee you’ll teleport everyone to the same area of the island.
Gisard’s Greater Animate Object
The train takes on an animated life of its own. It will create its own track beneath it without much thought as to where it is headed. It may be neutral to your plight, but will at least drop you off at the island before leaving for parts unknown.
- It will take longer than you’d like. You may miss the island before the ritual is completed.
- You’ll have to disenchant a magical item.
- You will risk danger from Glamjin’s servants.
Gisard holds his chin thoughtfully as he peers over Sir Krig's shoulder at the binding circle in the driver's compartment. He's pretty sure he COULD just magically stop them at the island by harnessing the latent magic power present in the train, but what's the point of being a wizard if you don't make your spellwork overly elaborate? Theatricality is an underappreciated aspect of the arcane arts.
"I've got a plan! Pardon me, Sir Krig! And would one of you free those sprites already, I'm going to reuse that binding circle."
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GrogMy sword is only steelin a useful shape.Registered Userregular
Holly, a little crest-fallen that her jumping-out-the-windows plan wouldn't work, explains to Bran the sprites' fate. She makes sure to point out how ridiculously adorable they are while suggesting he use one of the imps from his deck to break the curse.
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
Bran flips the deck out of a hidden pocket, and rolls it over in his hand with obvious trepidation. The rogue sighs heavily.
Never not weird. And now to put some faith in some further weirdness. This sucks.
"Okay. Everyone get clear of the room. Little sprite friends, I think you should find whatever cover you can."
Once everyone has moved, Bran stands just outside the engine room, using the door to it for cover. With a bit of slight of hand, he flips a card out of the deck into the engine car.
As the unknowable imp coalesces, Bran shouts out to it:
Name a vice:
- Debauchery. You desire to revel in wine, lust and play.
- Greed. You must steal coin, treasure and items of importance.
- Wrath. Your hatred overtakes you violently.
- Pride. You demand respect and seek power over others.
- Cowardice. Your own survival far outweighs any mission.
When you have the opportunity to indulge in your vice, you must drop everything to do so, or carry -1 ongoing until you next Make Camp. Each time you ignore your vice you gain a further -1 ongoing (max -3). Having indulged your vice once, the hex is removed from you. PM me your choice in secret.
Gyrune feeds on metal, and can swallow a battleaxe whole. Anything Gyrune eats may be spat back out with the tags masterwork, unbreakable, piercing, +1 load. It will glitter with gold, become gem encrusted, or be without flaw.
Gyrune will return to their card once it is has eaten its fill.
The imp grumbles in your general direction Bran, then starts ripping noisy chunks out of the floor. It almost gets sucked out a couple times, but it powers on without a hint of fear.
Meanwhile the sprites cling to the walls or behind piles of coal hoping they don’t fall and become lost beneath the train.
As Gyrune diligently chews through the metal of the train, you notice its carapace slowly begin to sprout grass...
The sprites are free! But they’re too busy keeping safe to think about leaving the front car.
Bran, Gyrune is about the size of a cat but thrice as heavy. You might want to move it so Gisard can use what’s left for his ritual.
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
edited May 2019
Bran has very little idea of how to recapture the imp, but does anything and everything to stuff the little gluttonous bastard back in the deck, up to and including just yelling at it.
Since all of that fails and it's probably still hungry, Bran literally pushes the imp out into the hall to get it out of the way.
The wind rattles the train as it rushes in through the floor!
Bran, you get a sweat on. The damn thing is heavy! The imp grumbles and jams it’s spiky tail into the floor, causing an awful screech as you put your back into it. Truly, it cannot even attempt to harm you, so eventually you manage to push it along. You get to the back end of the second car, far enough that it’ll be no hinderance to Gisard.
“What is that thing?”, inquires Sir Krig, sword ready in hand.
Gyrune’s dark eyes glitter at the sight of his armour and blade. You feel it turning in your hands. If you want to avoid a scuffle between them you’ll have to feed it one of your throwing knives or some other metal thing.
The imp doesn’t realise it, but it is turning an earthy brown and has grass and weeds sprouting from it.
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
"Listen, just give this thing a wide berth with all that steel, eh? It's got an appetite for it, and it's not going to stop eating until...well, I assume it'll eventually stop."
Bran feeds Gyrune a throwing knife like you'd feed a seagull a cracker.
Gisard looks positively smug, oh this spell's gonna be amazing. He'd always wanted to try a large-scale animation. A shame it will have to be a rush job. Also that he's never done this before. Magic has a way of just working, though. More or less. That's why it's magic.
While the others are working out what to do with the binding circle, he had begun removing piles of mysterious reagents from hidden pouches about his person, sprinkling piles of awful smelling purple powder here, placing a sprig of some herb with a blue string tied around its stem there, lighting a few candles around the cabin with green flames.
"This is going to be very tight. Amulet, can you project some guidelines on the floor for me, it wouldn't do to fail because the damn thing wasn't in symmetry. Also, this may draw some unwanted attention from outside, so if you lot in the back there could try to prevent any of Glamjin's creatures from entering or damaging the train for a while, that would be exceptionally helpful."
He's humming to himself, now. Occasionally cackles to himself. Frankly he seems a bit manic. He's bit his finger and is drawing new runes very quickly with his blood around the existing binding circle, and creating smaller circles as bypasses around the spots where the floor was eaten, rapidly flipping to seemingly random pages covered with diagrams and runes in his own spellbook along with holographic images of spellbook pages the amulet is projecting. "Bran, bring your little friend over here, actually, I'm going to need him. Jussst get him in the center of the circle. He can chew on this." He offers Bran the heavy metal battleaxe he's been carrying around.
"Hmm, amulet, what do you think for this part here, a reverse soul bifurication or a delta mask gradient? Maybe a liminal polymorphic matrix! Or not, there's no time for that. Quick and dirty, quick and dirty."
The amulet shows you a few magical shortcuts, points towards some symbols you’ve never used before, and offers up a very insightful chapter on demons that you think ought to be taught in schools, but you’ve got this. This is your show.
Some of the sprites get a little bolder, and one perches on your shoulder as you work.
The eldest sprite flitters up to kiss Holly on the head while another oldie holds a tiny one’s hand and forms a chain of wee lads and lasses, all of them singing out of tune. They wander off and find safe places to hide until all this blows over, one way or another.
Sir Krig very slowly sheathes his blade. He storms off to chat with his party, perhaps bereft he hasn’t got to slay anything foul yet.
The grey elf sighs, “Could I... might I help at all?”
"Ah, a fellow ssstudent of the arcane? Yesss, yesss, I need a spare hand stabilizing this array, the endsss seem to be fraying." Some sparks shoot out of a rune, which starts glowing in an unstable, flickering sort of way.
"As you can see I'm going for a large ssscale-autonomousss animation. The train will overshoot the island about when we finish animating it, then it will take us back, drop us off and then head off on its own."
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NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
edited May 2019
Bran, hearing Gisard shout for him to bring Gyrune back to the engine, grabs the imp and slings it onto his back like a fat sack of potatoes. The thief dangles another throwing knife just out of its reach, enough to tempt the imp and keep it from resisting wholesale, and rushes it back to the engine compartment.
Gyrune is barely able to move now, but continues to grumble. It has a garden of large leaved weeds on its back and a head of wild grass. It’s eyes peer angrily from the foliage.
You plunk it down in the middle of the circle. It feebly taps its feet but doesn’t get anywhere. Maybe those cards aren’t so bad Bran, there’s been no adverse effects after all!
Margulis Phanto Xerxes gets to work fixing up the edges of some runes with ink and quill. The elf might be quiet, but perhaps he’s the smartest of the other adventurers.
“I’m Margulis, and well, my father’s empire runs almost exclusively on magic, be it divine, arcane or... profane. I wouldn’t call myself a thaumaturgist, but I read runes well enough.”, he pulls a face, “Blood is a bit dramatic.”
He pauses, “Out of interest, what do you hope to achieve when you return home?”
You’re not beholden to answer honestly, Gisard.
The ritual will be complete imminently.
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GrogMy sword is only steelin a useful shape.Registered Userregular
Holly blunders out of the engine car with an armful of sprite-folk, stopping just short of the ritual space. "Where's Krig? I've finally found something that could melt his heart." She holds up a bright blue beetle-sprite to no one in particular. "Look! They've got a little bowtie!"
Gisard, the amulet burns so hot you have to take it off. It floats in front of you. It casts a very long shadow, large too, oddly shaped. More moving parts than the little object has, like limbs.
“Yes! It’s alive! It’s alive! I grow stronger with it! Do you feel it Gisard?”, the amulet laughs, “Ah ah ah.”
A mighty blast of cannon fire broadsides the train! The rear car is dented! The whole train tips slightly but holds the track valiantly!
Two servitors smash through a door and are swiftly clobbered together by the hulking lizardfolk gladiator, who then kicks them into the oncoming cleave of Sir Krig.
They are cut in twain, spilling silver blood across the carpet.
“Heretics! Defilers of Heaven’s order! On this day you learn of the righteous!”, Sir Krig reels off what must be the passage of some book as he beheads the bodies for good measure.
A second volley blasts the roof off the middle car! Paolo almost flies out, but are saved by Scout, who fires off a line that Paolo grabs, and drags him back in.
Two more servants of Glamjin, mouthless lanky things, some distantly devolved excuse for a fairy, drop in through the blasted top. They sprint passed the other adventurers. They’re headed for Gisard!
Gisard, you can’t get involved and complete the ritual. Holly, Bran, take them out fast!
—
There is only one vessel firing upon the train. It is the size of a car, and piloted by one servant. A second servant mans the cannon. There are four more servants waiting to jump onto the train.
Posts
"What's the play here, Gisard? I want back on the train, but if you've got a quick scheme here, let it fly." There's a clear trepidation in the rogue's voice at the suggestion of anything but bouncing back to the train.
Bran's new bond with Gisard:
"I see the visage of the Snake God Pythagon when I look at Gisard, and need to know more."
Bran's never been one for academics, but he conversed with a deific being. It's left a mark, and he now sees Gisard as his only source to understand what that means.
OOC: Endless, on that damage Bran just took, does Armor count?
Nothing for me to post right now. It’s up to you what you do next.
I will say that the sprites know quite a bit about Glamjin, so Holly should ask them a few things.
Edit: Altered for some typos.
Placing her skull on the ground to better speak with he diminutive beings, she probes them with questions trying to ascertain the nature of Glamjin's bindings and threats.
They all talk over each other (some tiny ones just make noises and roll around) until a much older looking sprite pushes her way to the front and calms them down.
“Ahem hem! Shush! Shushes for you all!”, the floral crone says primly.
She explains that they can’t leave while the sigils covering the floor and ceiling are intact, though for anyone other than themselves it should be quite easy to break the binding just by destroying some the markings. However, doing so will curse the one who dares to break the spell.
“Hm hm! You want to know about the master?”, she wavers and looks back at the other sprites, “None here is olden enough to know a time when he was not the master, saves I.”
She takes a breath a rolls up her petalled sleeves, “I’ll be needing song!”
“And dancing!”, some gleefully cry, “And glittery lights! And shadow shapes!”
“Aye, lets tell a tale as only we can!”, a butch little beetle sprite says from atop your skull.
“Once upon a time...
When the worlds were young, and the veils between them thin, there were five heroes bold.
The Fighter, the Wizard, the Cleric, the Thief and lastly the Bard, who spread their tales throughout Creation.
So brave, so strong, so good were they, O’ those grandiose deities, just wisps of dream dust and fancy then, invited the heroes to their golden palace.
For a time the heroes feasted, for a time they jousted, for a time the heroes played, but in the end they returned to the material— Save the Bard.
For just as the Thief stole coin, the Bard stole hearts. He whispered sweet honeyed words to the daughter of Sun and Moon, the goddess of travel, of movement, of the parting of veils, of the spaces between.
Many are her names, Ajarri, Portania, Oshna, Amlah, T’lamaythu are but a few, and the Bard spoke each one more dearly than the last.
The Bard took her heart and so her power, and flew. Bereft, the goddess fell into a deep slumber. None could catch him, none could tame is wild whim. Never again would he know defeat.
And yet, the Bard remained mortal, for he was no god...
But the Bard knew stories, the magic they held and still hold... and so he returned to his companions... and devoured their light, their courage, their heroism, casting their stories into fading myth. Their names are long forgotten.
The Bard became Glamjin, worst of the Fair Folk, he without court, promise-breaker, chaos-painter, chain-maker even of we the free people.”
“He is a bad fairy”, a tiny mite agrees sagely.
“Ahem hem. Now the once storyteller drags souls from across the worlds to overcome his challenges in the hopes that some will possess the heroic spark he desires to snuff out, all so that he may continue to live. Immortality has the highest of prices, though tis not he who pays.”
“...I wish you didn’t have to be smushed, nice skellington.”, a butterfly winged sprite says finally behind floods of pinprick sized tears.
“Err... mayhaps we’ll change the topic. Aught else you want to ask us lassy?”, calls down a plump bearded spite who’s sat where your skull would be.
—
Things to consider:
If he must maintain his immortality, he must be at his weakest just before he renews it.
You’ve seen demons, ghosts and an angel, so perhaps an afterlife is waiting for him, and it doubtless won’t be kindly towards him.
Glamjin is a fairy, and if these sprites have weaknesses, he will share them to some degree.
"A few clarifying questions, if I may. Question the first: what curse would befall me if I were to break your bonds? Question the second: if my quarry is a fairy, what weaknesses does that give him?"
She gently moves the bearded sprite to her shoulder and replaces her skull while she queries.
"Oh! And question the third: is there a brake system sufficient to stop us flying off the end of the tracks and into the ether?"
"Um... hmm. Nope." To the creature: "Well met, and fare well!" Gisard hikes up his robe and runs for the train.
“You do?”, asks another.
She falls over, “Not really, but it’s definitely terrible.”
The old one shakes her head, throwing sparkles left and right, “Fear of the unknown is the eldest fear. Could be something traditional like turning into a slug, or... Glamjin can be very creative in his cruelty... my own sons were...”
She trails off, then pats a little one on the head when it looks up at her.
The plump sprite on your shoulder leans over to you and gives a stage whisper, “That’s not generally polite to ask, but I’ll tell you one and you must tell me one for yourself in return, deal?”
This is a fairy contract, you have to answer: What is your weakness? It can be physical or a failing of character, it’s up to you.
“You’ll be needing a weapon of rawest iron that knows itself. Cold iron they used to call it. I’ve heard some call such a thing a mortal blade. Could be a hammer though.”, he muses, “Still, the weapon must be without history, without even a hint of magic, and it must be mag... magna... it’s got to stick to other iron. But not magically. I don’t know the first thing about how, but that stuff can cut through glamour and really hurt a fairy!”
That tiny mite pretends to die, legs flung upwards.
For your last question they all look a bit blank. Coal is slapped from the hands of a daffodil looking sprite who’s still been throwing handfuls into the furnace this whole time.
“That horrible conductor stops the train when we get into stations, it’s our job to get it moving.”
The ceiling collapses.
Gisard, you’re prone and tired out, but are otherwise unscathed.
You corkscrew at a tremendous velocity, bursting the billowing steam into a satisfying ring. You momentarily speed off in front of the train, which shocks you enough that you begin to slow down gradually.
A few feet above the leading car, you drop like a sack of potatoes.
Holly, you hear a thunk.
At the thunk she removes her head again and lifts it out through the window.
"Ah, there you are!" Bran sees Holly's skull poke up over the side of the lead car's roof. "I see you've had some practice traversing imaginarial space but we've some adorable innocents to rescue before we leap from this infernal engine! Come inside!"
"Well, this is unexpected."
The amulet speaks quietly as you pass a bemused looking grey elf.
“I hold that this locomotive will not stop in time. I was able to perceive our destination during your woefully miscalculated action that threatened both our— your retrievable of the human thief.”
The elf follows you a few paces behind. He isn’t trying to hide that fact. He hasn’t said anything to you though.
The amulet continues, “Ideally the breaks would be beside the engine, but I fear Glamjin has rigged this situation. We must assume everything is a test.”
The amulet glows crimson through your robes.
“Yes. The is a Place of Power!”
Gisard, the train is a place of power (on your own world great temples, crossings of leylines and a dragon’s tomb would exude a similar level of power) that can enhance your abilities. You can conduct a ritual here.
The Ritual move from your class:
When you draw on a place of power to create a magical effect, tell the GM what you’re trying to achieve. Ritual effects are always possible, but the GM will give you one to four of the following conditions:
- It’s going to take days/weeks/months.
- First you must X.
- You’ll need help from X.
- It will require a lot of money.
- The best you can do is a lesser version, unreliable and limited.
- You and your allies will risk danger from X.
- You’ll have to disenchant X to do it.
By the time the amulet finishes talking you’re in front of Sir Krig, who is doing his best doorman impression.
"Y'know what we need? Definitely not a thief. We double-definitely need a mage. I think I saw Gisard land a car back."
Bran opens the car door, only to be met with the backside of the hulking Sir Krig.
“How! You... the sneaking scoundrel. Bah. What treachery is this undead fiend? That your allies accost me from all sides?”
The grey elf manages to speak up, “I don’t think anyone is trying to trick you. But I do know that we need to stop this train. Might you let us in sir?”
There’s a bucket of sarcasm on ‘sir’, but the knight doesn’t pick up on it.
He turns to you Gisard, “I saw you two flying, but just suppose gravity works by the island. We might not be able to give that a go when we’re right beside it. The island might have its own localised forces. Just something to dwell on.”
From down the train Sir Krig and his party exchange some hand signals. You don’t know what that’s about.
Conducting a ritual (if you do at all) has nothing to do with freeing the sprites.
You’re close to your destination.
The island is close now, so close you can pick out individual trees and hear the shriek of strange birds puncture the noisy rattle of the train.
You’re very close to your destination.
Also, a sprite has put a lump of coal in your sock Bran, and kissed it goodnight.
Brainstorming time: Stop the train? Mass teleport everyone onto the island? Fly the train around? Maybe dedicate it to Pythagon and turn the train into a big, helpful snake? A big feathered serpent that can fly and doesn't want to eat us? That would be cool but that's probably a bit too cleric-y and outside of Gisard's wheelhouse. Maybe just animate the train like a sorcerer's apprentice-style broomstick or imbue it with a demon like the vampire lord's boss monster, so that it can operate itself and stop itself. And build its own track instead of relying on Glamjin's servitors! That would be cool. Be free, ghost train! I bet the amulet knows some things about binding demons into things, given what we've seen of its previous owner's work.
... Perhaps we could use one of Bran's deck demons for this?
Once the ritual is decided upon, any one caveat can be replaced by one of Bran’s imps.
If you utilise an imp from the Nameless Deck for your ritual it will be lost for good, leaving the deck with only 1d19 demonic mischief makers.
•*~Rituals~*•
Gisard’s Train Stop
Your ritual draws the train to a steady halt.
- You’ll need help from the another magic user. Find one and convince them.
- You’ll need a diamond to act as a conductor for the ritual.
- Afterwards you may be paralysed for a short time.
Gisard’s Mass Teleport
Your ritual teleports every living thing on the train onto the island. You will arrive somewhere on the edge. The sprites will not be teleported unless the magic binding them is broken first.
- You’ll be drained of magic, as if you’d forgotten all your spells. You’ll need to rest up to cast again.
- You will take harm in the casting. This will not be damage to your HP.
- You cannot guarantee you’ll teleport everyone to the same area of the island.
Gisard’s Greater Animate Object
The train takes on an animated life of its own. It will create its own track beneath it without much thought as to where it is headed. It may be neutral to your plight, but will at least drop you off at the island before leaving for parts unknown.
- It will take longer than you’d like. You may miss the island before the ritual is completed.
- You’ll have to disenchant a magical item.
- You will risk danger from Glamjin’s servants.
"I've got a plan! Pardon me, Sir Krig! And would one of you free those sprites already, I'm going to reuse that binding circle."
Never not weird. And now to put some faith in some further weirdness. This sucks.
"Okay. Everyone get clear of the room. Little sprite friends, I think you should find whatever cover you can."
Once everyone has moved, Bran stands just outside the engine room, using the door to it for cover. With a bit of slight of hand, he flips a card out of the deck into the engine car.
As the unknowable imp coalesces, Bran shouts out to it:
"Disrupt the binding markings within this room!"
Geth, roll 1d20 for The Nameless Deck
You have unleashed Gyrune!
Only Bran can read this:
- Debauchery. You desire to revel in wine, lust and play.
- Greed. You must steal coin, treasure and items of importance.
- Wrath. Your hatred overtakes you violently.
- Pride. You demand respect and seek power over others.
- Cowardice. Your own survival far outweighs any mission.
When you have the opportunity to indulge in your vice, you must drop everything to do so, or carry -1 ongoing until you next Make Camp. Each time you ignore your vice you gain a further -1 ongoing (max -3). Having indulged your vice once, the hex is removed from you.
PM me your choice in secret.
Gyrune feeds on metal, and can swallow a battleaxe whole. Anything Gyrune eats may be spat back out with the tags masterwork, unbreakable, piercing, +1 load. It will glitter with gold, become gem encrusted, or be without flaw.
Gyrune will return to their card once it is has eaten its fill.
—
The imp grumbles in your general direction Bran, then starts ripping noisy chunks out of the floor. It almost gets sucked out a couple times, but it powers on without a hint of fear.
Meanwhile the sprites cling to the walls or behind piles of coal hoping they don’t fall and become lost beneath the train.
As Gyrune diligently chews through the metal of the train, you notice its carapace slowly begin to sprout grass...
The sprites are free! But they’re too busy keeping safe to think about leaving the front car.
Bran, Gyrune is about the size of a cat but thrice as heavy. You might want to move it so Gisard can use what’s left for his ritual.
Since all of that fails and it's probably still hungry, Bran literally pushes the imp out into the hall to get it out of the way.
Bran, you get a sweat on. The damn thing is heavy! The imp grumbles and jams it’s spiky tail into the floor, causing an awful screech as you put your back into it. Truly, it cannot even attempt to harm you, so eventually you manage to push it along. You get to the back end of the second car, far enough that it’ll be no hinderance to Gisard.
“What is that thing?”, inquires Sir Krig, sword ready in hand.
Gyrune’s dark eyes glitter at the sight of his armour and blade. You feel it turning in your hands. If you want to avoid a scuffle between them you’ll have to feed it one of your throwing knives or some other metal thing.
The imp doesn’t realise it, but it is turning an earthy brown and has grass and weeds sprouting from it.
Bran feeds Gyrune a throwing knife like you'd feed a seagull a cracker.
It waddles over to a door and bashes it in, then clambers up a seat to bite a chunk out of a wall.
At this point it appears to be slowing down. Its once golden carapace is earthen.
While the others are working out what to do with the binding circle, he had begun removing piles of mysterious reagents from hidden pouches about his person, sprinkling piles of awful smelling purple powder here, placing a sprig of some herb with a blue string tied around its stem there, lighting a few candles around the cabin with green flames.
"This is going to be very tight. Amulet, can you project some guidelines on the floor for me, it wouldn't do to fail because the damn thing wasn't in symmetry. Also, this may draw some unwanted attention from outside, so if you lot in the back there could try to prevent any of Glamjin's creatures from entering or damaging the train for a while, that would be exceptionally helpful."
He's humming to himself, now. Occasionally cackles to himself. Frankly he seems a bit manic. He's bit his finger and is drawing new runes very quickly with his blood around the existing binding circle, and creating smaller circles as bypasses around the spots where the floor was eaten, rapidly flipping to seemingly random pages covered with diagrams and runes in his own spellbook along with holographic images of spellbook pages the amulet is projecting. "Bran, bring your little friend over here, actually, I'm going to need him. Jussst get him in the center of the circle. He can chew on this." He offers Bran the heavy metal battleaxe he's been carrying around.
"Hmm, amulet, what do you think for this part here, a reverse soul bifurication or a delta mask gradient? Maybe a liminal polymorphic matrix! Or not, there's no time for that. Quick and dirty, quick and dirty."
Some of the sprites get a little bolder, and one perches on your shoulder as you work.
The eldest sprite flitters up to kiss Holly on the head while another oldie holds a tiny one’s hand and forms a chain of wee lads and lasses, all of them singing out of tune. They wander off and find safe places to hide until all this blows over, one way or another.
Sir Krig very slowly sheathes his blade. He storms off to chat with his party, perhaps bereft he hasn’t got to slay anything foul yet.
The grey elf sighs, “Could I... might I help at all?”
"As you can see I'm going for a large ssscale-autonomousss animation. The train will overshoot the island about when we finish animating it, then it will take us back, drop us off and then head off on its own."
You plunk it down in the middle of the circle. It feebly taps its feet but doesn’t get anywhere. Maybe those cards aren’t so bad Bran, there’s been no adverse effects after all!
Margulis Phanto Xerxes gets to work fixing up the edges of some runes with ink and quill. The elf might be quiet, but perhaps he’s the smartest of the other adventurers.
“I’m Margulis, and well, my father’s empire runs almost exclusively on magic, be it divine, arcane or... profane. I wouldn’t call myself a thaumaturgist, but I read runes well enough.”, he pulls a face, “Blood is a bit dramatic.”
He pauses, “Out of interest, what do you hope to achieve when you return home?”
You’re not beholden to answer honestly, Gisard.
The ritual will be complete imminently.
“Yes! It’s alive! It’s alive! I grow stronger with it! Do you feel it Gisard?”, the amulet laughs, “Ah ah ah.”
A mighty blast of cannon fire broadsides the train! The rear car is dented! The whole train tips slightly but holds the track valiantly!
Two servitors smash through a door and are swiftly clobbered together by the hulking lizardfolk gladiator, who then kicks them into the oncoming cleave of Sir Krig.
They are cut in twain, spilling silver blood across the carpet.
“Heretics! Defilers of Heaven’s order! On this day you learn of the righteous!”, Sir Krig reels off what must be the passage of some book as he beheads the bodies for good measure.
A second volley blasts the roof off the middle car! Paolo almost flies out, but are saved by Scout, who fires off a line that Paolo grabs, and drags him back in.
Two more servants of Glamjin, mouthless lanky things, some distantly devolved excuse for a fairy, drop in through the blasted top. They sprint passed the other adventurers. They’re headed for Gisard!
Gisard, you can’t get involved and complete the ritual. Holly, Bran, take them out fast!
—
There is only one vessel firing upon the train. It is the size of a car, and piloted by one servant. A second servant mans the cannon. There are four more servants waiting to jump onto the train.