(G268 18/03/2016 via Roll20 - JF(GM), AP, MI) 47

(G268 18/03/2016 via Roll20 - JF(GM), AP, MI) 47

DAY 127(sat) cont...

Feeling rather isolated and vulnerable, Kirk tried to contact the Cacophony, but could only get static. He shot up a red flare, but he didn't hold out much hope of that achieving anything.

Rather than going any further forward he decided to flee back the way they had come. The riders followed, but out of musket range, keeping their eyes on Kirk and his followers. Kirk found though that he was being slowed down by Marion and Guyus, so decided to send them on back to the south while he waited where he was to see how the riders responded.

One of the riders rode off to the north east while the others stopped, rested their mounts and watched Kirk.  He then decided to go around them and keep walking north. The riders, again, followed him from a safe distance and he carried on up into the mountains for another two hours.

He tried to get a message through to the Caco and eventually a subspace burst was returned to him, telling him that there was a small group of vulcan soldiers at the spaceship and that Adam's avatar was captured and being held somewhere in the nearby city.

Kirk's situation was getting a bit more serious though as six more, better armed, riders appeared, dismounted and began advancing on him. They came up on his position and he shouted at them to leave him alone then shot twice over their heads.

While all this was going on he saw something swoop down about a hundred metres to his east and then a bang like a small grenade going off. He didn't know what it was and forgot about it, concentrating on his more immediate worries.

The vulcan warriors started firing on him with their long muskets. They were not hugely accurate weapons and slow to load. Kirk activated his personal shield generator and found that was enough to protect him from all but the luckiest shots.
He in turn fired back with his Desert Eagles, trying his best to only injure his pursuers by shooting them in the legs, but often they were hidden behind rocks and this difficult. On two occasions they rushed him and tried to bring him down with the butts of their muskets, but Kirk ran off as fast as he could to hide behind another set of rocks further up.

After a long chase though, the Vulcans were all so badly injured they could not continue, one was in need of urgent medical attention so the others took him back down the mountain. Kirk continued on to the Caco where three vulcan warriors were. They gave him a wide berth and he entered the ship.

The crew were reasonably pleased to see him. After some discussion with Dell they decided that using the impulse engines might work, although this was still warp, it would be low enough powered to avoid the effects of the anti-warp field. The other option was to reconfigure the thrusters. The fact that using warp of any kind might destroy the ship made them opt for the thruster option.
Adam, for some reason, was now offline and unavailable to help.
Even so, they still managed to find out that the anti-warp field extended up about six miles, it seemed to use Tropospheric propagation, so beyond that part of the atmosphere the warp engines would become safe to use. All they needed to do was go straight up using the thrusters, just like an early space age rocket.

They started work on this and after three hours, at 1700 hours, the modifications were finished. Kirk had to go outside to do about an hours work, but the Vulcans had not arrived in enough force to risk attacking him. He did notice, though, a small drone, about the size of a football, hovering about and watching him from a distance. He used his MATSE to look closer and saw that it had 'ANTO Productions' written on the side of it in the language of the Burung Mera. He suspected this was what he had seen eariler falling and exploding just at the start of his firefight.

Once the modifications were finished, Paterson fired up the engines and gave it a go. Using the thrusters of the Caco to go straight up into the atmosphere she said, 'Felt like trying to drive a shopping trolley with a bunch of fireworks strapped to the back and a pair of oars for steering.'
At about one mile up the Caco tilted over and stalled, but as they plunged back down to the planet  Paterson, by some miracle, saved them all and wrestled control of the ship again.
She was terrified and sweating by the time they made orbit, but somehow they had managed it.  The others gave her a round of applause as she leaned back in her seat and took her shaking hands off the controls.

THE FIRE THAT NEVER DIES

THE FIRE THAT NEVER DIES

Blessed sleep! She had been asleep. For how long? An hour or maybe two, it was still dark. She had always enjoyed her rest, but recently she had not been sleeping well.
She sighed and lay back again. Her hair was still in six braids when she had lain down, but a servant had come in and loosened it while she slept.
It wasn't nightmares keeping her awake, or visits from demons, she reflected. It was a sense of foreboding and despair.
Her world was ending. Soon Theodisius would close the Temple of Vesta and her role in Roman society would effectively come to an end. There had been years of politics and religious debate. The two were one and the same in the Forum. Religion was politics and politics was religion.
She was tired of it all, so very tired, but her tiredness had not led to sleep lately. Perhaps when the Temple was finally closed it would all be over? Maybe then she would know sleeps gentle comforting embrace once more.
After half an hour she rose and dressed. She knew there would be no more sleep tonight. Better to do something useful, there were mountains of paperwork to sort through. Because of their incorruptible character Vestal Virgins were entrusted with wills and other legal documents. They needed sorted, cataloged, indexed.
Ready to be handed over to whoever came after her, although she had know idea who that might be. She was, above all things, a servant of Rome.
The Temple to Vesta was right next to the House of the Vestal Virgins on the Forum. Even though the Forum was safe, she took a guard with her. If it had been an official visit then a lictor would have accompanied her, but for this a palace guard would do.
She knew this one by name.
'Come, Martinus. We will go to the Temple and attend the flame.'
He smiled and nodded, 'Yes, Coelia Concordia.'
She tolerated the use of her name at this time of night although he should have addressed her as Vestalis Maxima. Just another sign of my loss of power, she supposed.
It was a clear starlit night. There were lights on Capitoline Hill. The Temple to Jupiter was up there, not under any political threat. Not yet anyway.
There were still people about, the Forum never truly went to sleep, but it was a very short walk from the Atrium Vestae to the Temple. Behind the Temple to Vesta was that of of Castor and Pollux and ancient building still standing after being ravaged by fire four hundred years ago. She wondered how much longer the Temple to Vesta would stand.
It was a much smaller round building its entrance facing east to symbolise the link between Vesta’s fire and the sun. The guard pushed the door open for her and she stepped inside to where the sacred flame burned at the rear of the building's only chamber. A lone figure sat dozing at the hearth, casting a long shadow across the floor. The Temple was warm and inviting.
'Greetings, Aemilia.'
The young woman sat dozing on the stool roused herself. Once, there would have been six Vestal Virgins to attend the sacred flame, now there was just one, Coelia Concordia. Aemilia was named after one of the first Virgins, but was no more than an attendant, the daughter of a freeman.
'Good morning, Coelia.'
She could see Coelia was not dressed in her infula or suffibulum. The last Vestal Virgin wore only a simple palla over her robes, and besides it was the middle of the night.
Aemilia could be familiar with her in this dark and hushed environment without fear of censure.
'No sleep again?' she asked with a smile.
'No. Not with knowing what will soon happen.'
The young woman shuddered, a true believer, 'The Temple closed? It isn't possible!'
'I assure you it is. It is a matter of days. Theodosius will issue another of his decrees and the Temple of Vesta will be no more. The Vestal Virgins will be no more.'
Aemilia pulled her shawl tighter, 'I don't like Christians. I never said any words when everyone had to. I was just a little girl.'
Coelia knew that she referred to the Edict of Thessalonica, that ordered all subjects to swear faith with the Bishop of Rome. Coelia had not done so either, but that had been part of a political deal. It always came down to politics in the Forum.
'Well, times change', said the older woman, 'We have been a thing of the past for a hundred years. It suits the Empire to be Christian and Christ dislikes the pagan gods.'
Aemilia sniffed back a tear, 'But the sacred flame has burned for a thousand years.'
Coelia knew that this was not strictly true, but said,
'The flame is a symbol, something that used to mean something to Rome. Now Rome no longer needs it. No longer needs me.'
Aemilia pulled a face, 'Well, they are ungrateful then. The sacrifices you made.
The service you have offered. The gods always co-existed. Why can't the Christians just leave you alone?'
Coelia warmed her hands by the fire, 'It was all given with a glad heart. Vesta gives all her gifts freely. The world is a different place from Augustus's day.
Now, where is the stack of writs I was looking at the other day? It was in no kind of order at all.'
'You may as well just throw it all on the fire.', grumbled the younger woman.
Ceolia said nothing and took the first bundle of reed paper from the pile she had located in the gloom.
Ah, the last of the land contracts, I should be able to get through all of these tonight, she thought.
'You can go home Aemilia', she said finally, 'Have Martinus escort you. I will see it through to the end. I will be alone with the flame and my goddess until Theodisius comes with his men to put it out. It will not be long now and I'm in no danger of falling asleep long enough to let it go out.'
~~~
Sleep! She sat up. It was still dark. No more than an hour. That was good. Where
once she had prayed for sleep, now she shunned it.
'Sleep? I mustn't sleep!', she gasped and lay back again. She's spent the last three days at the Temple sorting out paper work. It had really been a pointless task, but she could not have left it undone.
When they'd come she was dead on her feet, but still working. As the men came to carry the Temple goods away and close it up she let the last piece of paper fall from her hand and had said, 'So this is it?'
Not the most momentous thing to have said she realised, but those were her last words inside the Temple of Vesta.
Now she walked through the chambers of the Atrium Vestae, the Palace of the Vestal Virgins, like a ghost. She knew they would never ask her to leave, but it had grown to be a tomb now, the last of her order living out her days in ignored solitude, never again to play her part in the state affairs of Rome.
Coelia knew that one day, they would come for her, and, politely at first, ask her to profess her faith in Christ to the Bishop of Rome. She was resigned to that, in some ways looked forward to it. She would be a person again, not a ghost, a figure in the church, the only church now, and someone involved in the life of Rome once more, even if in a way a hundred-fold more meager than when she had been a priestess of one of the most powerful religions in the Empire.
But that was not this day, or any day soon.
Much of the House of the Vestal Virgins was shut up now, she only needed a few rooms and a handful of servants. From her upper story window she could see all the way down the length of the Forum, to the Temple of Concord, which was now used by the Christians as a place of burial.
She had walked over to the window now and her eyes wandered down to the Temple of Vesta below. There was no light there, the sacred flame did not burn their any longer. The sun was starting to creep up behind her and casting a long shadow across the roof. There was one flame that would last all eternity, she reflected, Vesta would live on in sunlight.
The Goddess would never turn from Rome, even if Rome turned from her. She would shine her light down on the good and the wicked alike. She would never try and separate them out into saints and sinners, judging and damning them. The goddess was better than that, she shared her warmth and goodness with all equally. The Christian God was mean spirited and petty in comparison.
'Well, she's not gone from this world completely', whispered Coelia to herself,
'Not yet anyway.'
She walked from the window and put another log on the fire in her room. Her secret, and the reason why she now welcomed insomnia, was that the fire that burned here in her chambers in the Atrium Vestae had been transfered from the Temple to Vesta by night and by cunning, just before it had been officially put out by Theodisius's men. In effect it was the only part of the sacred flame that
remained.
She would attend it night and day from now on, feeding it, keeping it alive, alone and forgotten until one day she feel asleep long enough for it to go out. Then she would awake, look over the cold ashes for a long while, remembering the old days for as long as she felt proper, but then, eventually, throw her palla over her shoulders and leave the House of the Vestal Virgins, never to return

(G267 11/03/2016 via Roll20 - AP(GM), JF, Mira, Guru)

(G267 11/03/2016 via Roll20 - AP(GM), JF, Mira, Guru)

DAY 246 (12 Uktar)(November) cont ...

Down at the bottom of the Rift was just a mess of undead. In the light area there were already plenty of zombies, undead ogres, wyverns and other things we couldn't identify.
Out beyond the range of the light we could see even more things lurking about, things that looked even more dreadful that the things we were already fighting. Twisted and tentacled things.

From the shadows a large skeleton type thing emerged, with a body held in its rib cage. At the time we were not sure what it was, but later Basil identified it as a Devourer, a hideous undead thing that took mortals up into its middle and sucked the souls from them and consumed them.
The soul's life was used as a source for its magic and Basil cried in despair when he saw that the  body inside the devourer was Sybil.

I turned into an owl and flew over the top if it to get a better look. I saw that it also had a wide maw of sharp teeth, grey skin and oozing sores. There were other nasty things around it as well, tentacled humanoids that looked like Bone Drinkers. This was all getting a bit much.

As I swooped about in the gloom, I got a good view of my comrades on the cliff side as they tore into the undead. The warriors were at the base of the steps, chopping heads and limbs off while the casters shot into the mass from above. Sylvia killed a wyvern with a single Searing Light spell that lit up the area for a few seconds and Basil attacked with Lightning Bolts again and again.
Irritator added in his Magic Missiles until the whole area was like an inverse fire works display with constant zaps and thumps as spells landed below.

The Devourer tried to cast a spell on me, I'm not sure what it was, but my will was strong enough to avoid it. I swooped back towards the others and saw Irritator finish off an ogre with a barrage of Magic Missiles.

I landed on the cliff steps and without fully thinking the thing through summoned a Phantom Stag.
I had meant it to be there to cover our retreat, but the poor thing arrived in mid air, not where I had wanted it at all and it plunged into the undead below. It seemed only a little hurt though and was soon tossing zombies about with its massive antlers. At this time as well, Sylvia had got down the steps far enough to start using her Turn Undead abilities but it was very clear to everyone this was a fight we couldn't win.

'Retreat!' came the cry from more than one throat and everyone rushed back up the steps. I used my last Stone Shape to prevent any counter attack and the fighting effectively ended at that point. We'd hit them hard, but it was all rather futile, they were not the real enemy and we had not even recovered Sybil's remains.

We went back to the 'Fortress' , healed our wounds, sharpened our notched weapons and repaired our armour. Myself, Basil and Sylvia sat down to come up with some kind of plan. In the end we decided that an aerial attack of Baleful Polymorph spells was worth a go. I had a suspicion that the spells wouldn't work on undead creatures but Basil assured me it would.

The rest of the day was spent with camp fire tales told in hushed whispers. I updated my journal and notes made on the behaviour of monsters down in the Rift.

When it was time for sleep Lavinia snuggled up to me in our magic bedrolls. Not much chance of any romance at the moment though.

DAY 247 (13 Uktar)(November)

In the morning, after we had breakfasted on food summoned by Sylvia I scryed the dragon again and found he was doing his usual activity of fiddling about with the weave. It reminded me of an old man rubbing his hands in glee as he watched young maidens bathing.

Without further ado, myself and Basil prepared our spells. I cast lots of resistance magic on myself, Camouflage and Barksin, before finally turning into an owl. With Sylvia on my back I flew off, following Basil who had already turned into a Dire Bat.

With out combined bird and bat senses it didn't take long to find the devourer again and I descended low enough for Sylvia to Turn it, which she did, making it take off into the darkness. For the record they run like pregnant women.

We had draw the attention of four undead wyverns though, which took off and flew after us. In a swooping, ducking, high speed aerial chase we battled the wyverns through the Rift. Basil managed to Earth Bind one of them and I got the next as it clawed at my feathers.
The two wyverns spiraled down to the floor of the canyon, flapping ineffectively as they landed in heaps behind us.
The other two clawed and snapped at us and I fended one off as Sylvia managed to Turn it. I cast Hypothermia at the last one and Basil tried another Earth Bind which it resisted. Sylvia finally caught it with a Turn attempt as it swooped up past Basil and it fled into  the darkness.

The wyverns dealt with, we flew down towards the floor of the Rift and found the devourer as it headed back towards the platform where Sybil had been killed. I tried a Baleful Polymorph spell which it resisted. Basil tried one and incredibly the devourer turned into a turtle that he then snatched up in his claws as he swooped past.

We headed for home and arrived without incident, landed and turned back into our human forms.

Basil held the turtle close to his chest, he seemed to be somewhat happier, but I wondered what he was going to do with the thing? It looked undead, but at least her soul had not been destroyed. With the right kind of magic it should be recoverable I suppose.

Still, Sybil's soul was now inside a devourer which was inside a turtle! It reminded me of those  little set of nested dolls that you can buy back at Waterdeep, each doll inside the other like  layers of an onion.

AULD LAGG'S DAMNATION

AULD LAGG'S DAMNATION

And Sir Robert Grierson wrote in his rent collection book:
O Lord, we’re aye ganging and we’re aye gettin’;
We should aye be comin’ to Thee, but we’re aye forgettin’.
~~~
Some say as Auld Lagg lay dying, in the Turnpike House on a dark and squally night, out on the Solway Firth, the same waters Maggie Wilson had been drowned, a small boat was heading back to its berth. In the light of the full moon the crew saw a craft heading out to sea.
As it came closer they saw it was no ordinary vessel but a great black coach and horses, galloping into the mouth of the Nith estuary accompanied by coachmen and outriders bearing flaming torches.
As they passed, the captain called out,
'Where are thee bound? Where are thee form?'
The reply received was a dread cackle and,
'To tryst wi' Lag in Dumfries we are bound! From Hell we have come!
~~~
And some said that in his dying delirium he was visited by wights and wraiths,
'Auld Lagg! Cruel Lagg! Heartless Lagg!' whispered Maggie's ghost into the ear of the dying man.
'Leave me be, spectre..' the croaked reply.
'Whither do ye go now?' groaned the ghost, 'To drown maer poor old auld women in
the Solway? To torment and torture those tha' wid nae pray for thy king?'
'Damned ghoul! Out fiend!'
'Damnation, aye, damnation is the word. ye auld snick-drawin dog! This luckless hour will send ye linkin to thy pit!'
~~~
And they told of an old woman, Margaret McLachlan who was tied on a post by the sea. And further up the from her tied in a similair fashion was the younger Margaret Wilson.
They had been caught saying the wrong prayers and had been presented to Sir Robert Grierson the assize of Lag who sentenced them to be drowned. The idea being that seeing the old woman drown first would make the younger one repent.
As the tide rose and her end approached, a dragoon Major pulled Maggie Wilson's head above the water and demanded , 'Will ye say a prayer for the king?'
She answered, 'I wish salvation of all men and the damnation of none.'
A bystander called, 'Dear Margaret, for all of love, say God save the King!'
She answered, 'God save him, if he will, for it is his salvation I desire.'
Her family cried, 'She said it so! Let her be, untie her we beg thee!'
But Auld Lagg stepped forward and swore,
'Damn’d bitch, we do not want such prayers; tender the oaths to her.'
Margaret shut her lips tight and the Major thrust her head into the water.
~~~
The folk of Galloway tell of Auld Lagg leading his dragoon's into the hills around Carsphairn and where they found men reading the Bible they shot or tortured them to death. People would come to their doors and listen as the screams echoed down from the glens, then shake their heads and say,
'Auld Lagg tends his flock.'
And when he came down to Dalry, Lag rounded up the men and forced them to swear allegiance to the King and dismissing them snarled
'Now you are a fold full of clean beasts, you may go home.'
~~~
Along the Nith, fast lights were seen, or so they said, on that dark and storm tossed night. A craft moving so fast it defied all ken. And those that beheld it felt the ice of fear on them and made signs against evil. From Glencaple to Whitesands they closed and locked their doors. It was an ill omened night and the devil's work was being done.
~~~
Some say an old crow perched on the windowsill of the bedroom of Turnpike House where the old man lay dying and it said,
'Auld Lagg! Do thee know me? I will sit on thy coffin 'er thee die and tell all of thy deeds. They will say thy wine did turn to blood 'er it hit the glass. The horses that pull thy funeral coach will die in harness. Grass will ne'er grow over thy grave! Wait now, be quiet Lag, be still. It is not long now. Thy raptur'd hour approaches.'
~~~
And the folk of Galloway called it 'The Killing Time', when King's men hunted the Covenanters through the hills, killing them where they found them in secret prayer.
People avoided the hills after that, for many years, fearful of what would be found up there. They called it the 'Bone Harvest' and told their children to stay down in the glens, because up on the hilltops was where the monster Auld Lagg stalked and the bodies of his victims were still lying up there lost and unburied.
~~~
And they told of the crow cawing
'Do thee know what now comes for thee? Auld Lagg should know Auld Nick when he sees him, he did his work often enough. Well no matter, they will soon be here to take thee. What was it all for? Those people you killed and tortured in the name of a king. A king that was evicted in the Glorious Revolution? If ever killing were for naught, it was in this. You must have thought ye were doing God's own work in those far off days, Auld Lagg, when all along you were doing the work of Auld Hornie!'
~~~
And now the children played a game called 'The Lag'. Where one was a beast with a prominent long snout, pointed ears and bulging eyes. All the better for watching, listening and snuffling for Covenanters in the Galloway Hills. They took turns in being the beast and would hunt each other through the hills and heather, laughing as they went.
Their parents would not stop them, by now many years had passed and they rarely found bones up there.
~~~
And in Dumfries they say, a young boy called Fergus chanced to look out his bedroom window at night and saw the coach and horses bound for the Turnpike House. Fire burned in the horses eyes as they sped through the street, there hooves not making a single note on the cobblestones. The outriders held their torches high, casting red shadows, their cloaks pulled tight around them and their hoods covering their faces. The coachman lashed his whip and yelled,
'Make haste, Auld Lagg waits! Let nothing prevent thy speed!'
~~~
Some say the old man finally stirred as an eerie whistle blew. He did keep a monkey up in the Cat's Cradle tower of the Turnpike House and whenever a visitor came or went it had been trained to blow a whistle. A coach pulled outside and whoever stepped out of it terrified the monkey into blowing louder and louder on the whistle. So loud and panicked was the shrill piping that it sounded like the
creature was blowing fit to burst its lungs.
Sir Robert tried to rise from the bed, to summon servants, but by now he was too weak to move.
~~~
It is told that after the revolution was a time bad for old Jacobites. Auld Lagg was fined and imprisoned for forgery. But soon he was freed and went to live at Rockhall. There he grew older and older until many folk had forgotten what he had done and those that remembered said he feared to die because that would be the day he was called to answer.
And so he buried most his kin, and did not die, but went on and on, but no man can live forever, no matter how much he fears what comes after.
~~~
Some say a heavy foot on the stairs was heard. Impatient horses whined and blew in the yard below, stamping their feet and shaking their harness. Each creaking step grew closer. A wayward wind blew through the room and the windows burst open.
Something broke on the floor. The whistling went on, but the house did not wake. Auld Lagg could not close his eyes.
~~~
And they said the whistle blew and blew, louder and louder until it seemed that all the sound in the world was in that whistle. And that when Auld Lagg died and was driven to hell by Auld Nick in a phantom coach the monkey continued to blow its whistle until the household servants strangled it and it haunts the place to this day.
Some say Sir Robert was born to hell in Satan's own coach and tormented there forever more, for the murders he committed in the name of King and God, justified and zealous, sure of his rightness. Better this than a man lived to a ripe old age and remained unpunished, they said, even on his death bed, for the crimes of half a century ago?
This may or may not be so, but in any room in Turnpike House, in the darkest time of the night, you may hear a thin whistling sound that will grow louder and louder until it seems to fill thy head completely. The ghost of his pet monkey, cursed until judgment day to warn the world what awaits those that lead a life like Auld Lagg's.

IN THE FOREST SOUTH OF FREYL

IN THE FOREST SOUTH OF FREYL


We were camped in the forest somewhere near the border. Since we had a druid with us the campsite was well chosen, out of the wind and snug. The fire chuckled merrily and the moon shone down between the evergreen trees. The pleasant smell of pine needles and wood smoke hung in the air.
We were in no hurry to go to sleep since tomorrow would be the last leg of our journey. A leisurely half day's stroll to the village of Freyl.
The druid was the only one no longer awake. He was an old man and said that his bones had grown so tired he didn't like sleeping on the ground much these days. So he shape shifted into the form of a gigantic brown bear whenever he slept in the wild. He said it was much more comfortable and it certainly looked it.
Gentle snoring came from the big heap of fur on the other side of the fire.
I myself was resting my head on Bandrax's leg and Decalis was lying looking up at the stars to my right.
'Uhh...', I said breaking the silence, 'It's so relaxing and warm here, but I really need to go pee before I turn in.'
Bandrax snorted then said 'Here we go again.'
Decalis, an elf, shook his head in the gloom 'Please not another conversation about bodily functions. Is there not another topic you can discuss?'
'What better topic is there?' replied Bandrax, who was a much more rugged and down to earth character than the refined elf 'It is a natural process and we are surrounded by nature after all.'
Decalis broke a twig and threw both pieces on the fire.
'Your disgusting little talks are probably why Roztov always goes to sleep so early.'
We made no reply to that for several minutes, but in the end Bandrax could not resist,
'You know. He has it easier than all of us. He doesn't even have any trousers to pull down.'
'Oh please' groaned Decalis and mimicked looking around 'Is there another campfire I can go to?'
I was genuinely intrigued though, 'I would have thought he turns back into a man before he does his.. you know ..'
Bandrax chuckled, 'Come on! He's a bear. This is the woods. You work it out.'
I nodded in the darkness, 'Hmm. You're probably right.'
Bandrax as he reached up to scratch his beard. It was going gray around the chin now, I suppose he was not far away from forty. Men seemed to age so fast.
'Anyway', he said, scratching away 'You being a wizard, why can't you just conjure up some magic pants?'
'Magic pants?'
'You know, just teleport all the .. stuff .. into the Astral Plane or something?'
'Uh huh.'
Bandrax was warming to his idea now 'You would find a market for it I'm sure. When I was a King's Guard in Timu I could have done with something like that. That armour takes half an hour to take off and what with my bowels being the way they are...'
Decalis who had had his head in his hands, looked up.
'Are you suggesting...?'
'Oh well!' laughed the man 'Let's just say I had a few narrow escapes that's all.
They eat nothing but pastry in that city and it's murder on my digestion.'
It was true, myself, Bandrax and Decalis had been friends for twenty years, adventuring all over Nillimandor and had grown wealthy doing it. I'd seen Bandrax
slaughter armies of orcs and goblins with his magical sword 'Ghost Bringer' but due to his irritable bowel he would run in terror from a pork pie.
'Well, it will be good healthy food at Drako's. He has a torm cook.'
Bandrax licked his lips, he was fond of his food 'I'm looking forward to it. It will be good to see him again too.'
Drako was the wizard I had trained under. I myself, I should explain, an a torm, one of the many halfling races that inhabit Nillimandor, I was born on the south side of the border making me a 'fressle' in the local language and I was taken in by Drako when just a child. He had seen potential in me and tutored me in the art of magic.
A few moments later the bear rolled over, got up onto all fours and wander into the darkness of the forest.
'Care to speculate what he's about to do?' Bandrax asked Decalis.
'For the love of the Goddess. Stop.' grumbled the elf.
'Come on!' said the man with a smile in his voice 'Are you telling me elves don't poo?'
'Of coarse we do! We just don't talk about it.'
'Little things like rabbit dropping I should imagine, with hardly any smell at all.'
'Be quiet. We never discuss such base things.'
'So when the Queen of Greenmarches goes to push one out' said Bandrax putting on an air of genuine confusion, 'What does she tell her courtiers?'
Still, after twenty years, Decalis could not help but rise to this sort of teasing from Bandrax,
'Your ignorant monkey brain can not comprehend the subtleties of the elvish language. We use metaphor and euphemism for everything.'
Bandrax could speak elvish reasonable well having traveled and lived with one for so long and in a high falsetto voice did a reasonable impression of their Queen.
'Oh, my lords and ladies!', he squeaked 'Please pray excuse me! Prithee I must leave you for a moment. One has a sewer snake to release.'
By now I was choking with mirth. Bandrax continued,
'One has to go bait a trap! One has to go build a log cabin!'
If I could have joined in I would have, but I was having a coughing fit. Bandrax was a seasoned jester though and went on,
'My lords, I must go curl one off! I must go deceive a fart. I have to de-cork the bottle. Make way for your queen, I must drop a hoop snake. I must go and free the chocolate hostages. I have a trumpet recital to attend. I have to grow a tail. It is time to release the Kracken.. I have to shed some ballast .. um wait I've got another one...'
'Enough!', cried the elf, then he hissed quietly since we were in a reasonably dangerous part of the country after all, 'Enough with the toilet humour! I will not hear my queen disrespected in this way!'
The elf threw a boot at the man. I continued to choke with mirth.
Bandrax said 'Very well! I yield my lord. I yield!'
'Sometimes I wonder', grumbled the elf 'Him I can understand, but you Mary? You encourage him! You trained under the mighty Drako and are yourself one of the most powerful wizard's in Timu, all of Nillimandor probably. I once saw you bring down a hill giant with a single magic fireball and yet you behave like a child half the time.'
'I'm sorry Decalis' I said, rather taken aback by his stern tone.
Then I saw that he was smiling in the darkness and I realised that he too was joking. Bandrax reached down and ruffled my hair,
'Don't worry half-pint. You are really annoying but we still love you.'
As usual they were both blaming me when as far I was concerned I was completely innocent in the entire thing. What you must remember is that myself and Decalis were still children really. Torms can live to two hundred and elves just go on and on.
Just then the tall figure of Rostov strode up to the fire. He was back in the shape of a man.
'There I was unloading a traveler when I heard all this kerfuffle coming from back at the camp. It frightened my right into my skin. I come rushing back and find you are all just giggling like children,'
I knew Roztov was not being serious. He was like a father too us, old and wise. We knew he was old although he did not look it. Druids aged differently, but by my calculation he must have been seventy at least.
He re-seated himself by the fire and warmed his hands. I could see his long blonde hair and beard framing a friendly open face.
Although we had had our fair share of adventure it was nothing compared to him. He had literally been all over the world, as far west as the Isle of Dragons and as far east as the Three Kingdoms of Yaja. Roztov was an ambassador for the Great Forest and although in semi-retirement he liked nothing more than travel and that was the main reason were were taking the slow way to Freyl rather than using a magical option.
'Sorry Roz, we were just discussing Mary's magic pants.'
I slapped Bandrax's thigh at that. Roztov raised an eyebrow.
'Oh really?'
'That's it!' I declared and jumped up 'I really have to go now.'
'Is it a big job or a small one?'
'Oh don't start again!' I cried 'Anyway, I told you I'm just going for a pee. Then I'm going to sleep.'
Bandrax sat up and called after me,
'You mean you are going to talk to grandma? Spend a penny? Drain the dragon? Flush the scuppers? Siphon the weasel? Leak the lizard? Shake hands with the wife's best friend? Wash the mongoose?... ahhh... oh she's gone.'
I was still with in earshot, but was concentrating on my business.
What with all the layers of skirts, underskirts and underwear I'd just had to fight through to be in a position to 'water the flowers' I'd started to wonder if magic pants wasn't such a bad idea after all.

(G265 19/02/2016 via Roll20 - JF(GM), AP, MI) 46

(G265 19/02/2016 via Roll20 - JF(GM), AP, MI) 46

DAY 125(thu) cont...

They left the village at high speed, Kirk and Adam on a krodak each and Marion and Guyus together on a third. They rode more or less non-stop for seven hours until they reached the caves that Marion knew of. The trail they had followed led steadily back up into the chalk hills and they arrived at the cave entrance in the dark at about 2000 hours.

Kirk tried to get the krodak's into the cave entrance, but the big riding lizards were too nervous. He entered the cave and used his tricorder to scan for dangers. The only thing he detected was underlying issues with the atmosphere of the planet. There were contagions and diseases in the air that his body's immune system had no defence against. Right now he felt fine though, so he carried on.

Adam, not waiting for instructions, decided to enter the cave and start mapping it. He numbered the tunnels and caverns as he went, patrolling in as best he could, in a circle around the entrance. These mountains were evidently riddled with a vast network of caves, extending for mile after mile, a confusing maze that would have been easy to get lost in if it weren't for his computer intelligence.

In the meantime Kirk eventually got the krodak into the cave when Marion suggested blindfolding them. Since he couldn't communicate with her by any other method than pantomime he used his tricorder to investigate the jamming signals. He detected one to the north east and one further away (or possibly just a weaker signal) to the south west.

As the evening wore on Adam realised he was not alone in the caves when he heard a scream. When he tried to get to where it had come from he found he either had took the wrong way or the person the scream had emanated from had moved on.

Meanwhile, Kirk, either because of fatigue or carelessness had neglected to even look out the cave from time to time to check they had not been followed and the first he knew about the people outside was when his MATSE unit detected life signs at the entrance.

He made his next mistake when he made no attempt to communicate with the people who entered the cave, they could have just been innocent travellers after all, and he opened fire straight away.
In actual fact, it was a posse from the village, a large group of trackers and soldiers, with their sniffer-lizards.
When the first shots were fired, the krodaks in the cave bolted, badly tramping Guyus, who Marion picked up and carried further in to the caves.

In the firefight that ensued, Kirk gunned down two hunters and two soldiers, at each shot retreating a little further into the caves. There were many more soldiers though, and even if they were just using cumbersome and slow matchlock rifles, Kirk still had to activate his Personal Shield to protect himself.
He killed the last soldier with a shot to the head and hustled along Marion as quickly as he could. Going as fast as they could and firing a last shot to keep the pursuers at bay they ran deeper into the caves.
After a while they paused to get their breath back and Kirk performed some first aid on Guyus and got the poor lad back on his feet. It also began to dawn on him that there was no way he could admit to killing natives when he got back to Voyager, assuming he did at all, he would be court martialed for sure and Janeway would lock him up and throw away the key this time.

A couple of hours later Adam arrived back at the cave entrance to report his perfectly executed mapping of the caves and found the place deserted but with very clear signs of the resent fighting. Not having any way of communicating with Kirk, Adam turned on his heals and headed back into the caves.

DAY 126(fri)

At 0100 hours, more by luck than judgement, Kirk picked up another exit and a water source on his Tricorder, just a few dozen metres away. After scrabbling around for a bit in the tunnels they eventually arrived at a small cave entrance that was also home to a small pool where a spring bubbled up. They had a drink and set up camp.
Kirk settled down to sleep and set his alarm for 0600.

At the same time Adam was still moving through the caves, not lost, but not knowing where he was going either. He discovered an abandoned campsite, just a few days old, left by persons unknown. As he entered another large cavern he met a squad of soldiers coming the other direction and for lack of any better idea he surrendered to them. They lead him out of the caves and to Lord Chamris, the vulcan that Kirk had shot back at the village, and was then taken to a coach. The coach had a team of six krodaks pulling it so they made quick progress to the city.

Kirk was awoken by the alarm on his Tricorder and felt pleasant sunlight on his face as the morning sun shone through the cave. As he ate his breakfast and planned his next move he realised he had no idea where Adam was and decided the best thing to do was head back to the Caco.

Adam arrived at the vulcan city at 1000 hours, where the coach took them to the courtyard of the keep of Lord Chamris.
They disarmed him and took away everything except his shirt and trousers. He was lead into a high windowed hall and interrogated by three richly dressed vulcans.
'Where is your ship?'
'What are your objectives?', they asked. Adam only told them that he was here to look for a Katric Arc.
Some food and water was bought for him, but he refused it.

At 1100 Lord Chamris and the three vulcans were joined by another, extremely well dressed lord. From what they talked about Adam gathered that the Cacophony had already been located by trackers in the mountains.

At 1200 Adam was put in a cell guarded by six vulcans armed with pikes. He shut his eyes and began some diagnostic and repair routines to remove corruption from his systems. For some reason, despite there being no evidence of it, Adam thought Kirk had also been captured and was content to just wait for the situation to resolve itself.
He also received a message, a short blip of subspace data, from the Cacophony, confirming that they had been discovered and that a dozen or so soldiers had just arrived at their location.

While Adam cooled his heals in prison Kirk travelled on foot with Marion and Guyus. He managed to make decent progress west over the chalk kills and then north up the next valley towards the mountains where the Cacophony was. Using his Tricorder for a map they eventually stopped at a wooded area and spent the night there.


DAY 127(sat)

At dawn Kirk woke once more, his second night sleeping rough, and they made their way north once more. Now their luck ran out though. As they approached a partially dried-up river a patrol of riders came out of a line of trees and spotted them from about half a mile away and turned to intercept them.
Looking around Kirk also noticed, high up on the hills to the north, the tiny specks of five or six figures right on the ridge line of the way they needed to go.
'How am I going to get out of this?', he asked himself.

(G266 26/02/2016 via Roll20 - AP(GM), JF, Mira, Guru)

(G266 26/02/2016 via Roll20 - AP(GM), JF, Mira, Guru)

DAY 245 (11 Uktar)(November) cont....

[From the Journal of Rollo Lavius]

Hello again dear reader! Yes, it's me, fresh from being a garden ornament. I can't say I remember all that much from being petrified. One moment we were fighting the gorgon and the next I had a crowd around me asking if I was ok.
I felt tired and sick, but other than that I was fine and felt as right as nine pence after getting some clean fresh water.

Well, time was still of the essence, we still had the Vast Swamp to save and a dragon to deal with. All rather inconvenient, dragons can be a real pest sometimes, or so I've been lead to believe by my brother Corum, and he should know.

Sylvia, being very clever and resourceful had rescued us, bringing with her some other denizens of the Swamp who did not want it turned into a realm of darkness. They were Irritator the Kobold  wizard who was quiet but seemed a decent enough fellow and Yli, a handsome young fellow, some sort of ranger or hunter. The other two I was less sure about, Basil, a grumpy old druid of the  mushrooms-in-the-beard variety and his consort Sybil the medusa. Yes a medusa! Can you credit it? Not only that, but the same one that had just about done me in when I was beaver hunting back around Wisphaven.

Basil and Sybil are horrible, by every definition of the word. Basil stinks of the swamp, most likely survives by murdering travellers and is despicable in every word and dead. Sybil, who appears to be the more dominant one in their relationship is evil to the core and has been praying on the peoples of the swamp for generations. Incredibly though, they are now allies, and not only that, but very good ones if Sylvia is to be believed. They travelled all the way from Wisphaven together with hardly even a harsh word. Basil and Sybil seem to have been able to subdue their evil natures and adventure on the side of 'good' for as long as it takes to ensure the Vast Swamp remains out of the clutches of those that would make it into part of the realm of Shadow.

So, once I was revived we made our way deeper into the Black Rift and were now taking on towers full of evil minions and tentacle things. The stuff of nightmares and to be frank I was rather beginning to miss my days as a statue. We had already cleared two areas and were now onto our third since leaving the relative safety of 'The Fortress' where Lavinia and the others waited on guard.

This next fight ended rather abruptly as myself and Basil had now perfected the 'Wave of Wolves' tactic. The first of the 'Tentacle Horrors' was pulled down and finished off by them and the second vanished. Sylvia healed up Drashnag and he poked about for the missing enemy but it appeared that it had gone.

During the battle Sylvia had been thrown over the side and Basil was utterly beside himself with grief  at her loss. I think he had been her consort since he had been a young man. I need to research how long  medusa live for. A rash sort of fellow who seemed to act impulsively he turned into a dire bat and swooped down to the floor of the rift to try and retrieve her corpse. As he flew down I cast 'Avoid Planar Effects'  and then 'Light' on a pebble to aid him in his search.
What he found down there in the murk though was a trail of blood leading to where a large group of zombies of various sizes were feasting on her remains.
In the gloom and half light we watched the macabre spectacle of Basil the dire bat fighting the zombies to try and retrieve his lost love. He cast 'Animal Growth' on himself and the dire bat increased to  twice its already large size. In the struggle that followed one of his wings was pulled down by a zombie ogre and he was very nearly ripped to bits himself, but he pulled himself free and flapped off to safety although badly mauled.

On his return, it hardly needed stating that he was in a black mood, but in his sullen silence he accepted the plan of going back to the fortress and resting before trying again.

It was noon by the time we returned and Sylvia conjured up enough food for us to live on that day.

The only thing of note I did in the afternoon was scrye Despayr the dragon again and I saw him in conversation with the Tentacle Horror thing. The horror seemed to be giving the dragon a report and after it had done so it disappeared. Despayr seemed neither pleased or angry, but I am not an expert in sensing the motivations of dragons.

In the evening I wrote up my journal and updated my logbooks with information on the Plane of Shadow with Badger snoozing at my feet. Sylvia prayed and repaired her armour. Lavinia, Mirabella, Falo-Han, Rolanda and Yli kept the fire going and chatted in low voices.
Shump kept his own council, as did Drashnag. Irritator spent most of the evening going through the loot and cataloging it. Basil looked out of the Fortress door and brooded, his hand gently resting on the head of his snake.

Morale seemed to be low, we all knew we would have to fight this dragon at some point, and the question was; who would survive and who would die?


DAY 246 (12 Uktar)(November)

I had the morning shift, so woke at dawn, or what passed for dawn in the Plane. I felt something strange and Basil, who was also awake, grumped and muttered that he sensed that all Conjuration spells would now be much harder to cast.
He summoned a bat to test this theory and although he managed to cast the spell he said it was much harder.
Now I could feel it too, and it could only be the work of that dragon, trying to prevent us from summoning all our wolves and crocodiles. Bugger!

I had prepared some spells which I hoped would prove useful today and started with 'Lay of the Land'. It let me see the whole of the Black Rift in rough sort of outline, but it was useful in that I could tell we still had a few more towers to get past before getting to an area which I assumed was the lair of the dragon. It was only an assumption though, the big building I could see may have been anything.

Next I cast Skrye again and this time I saw the dragon, in his usual place, his claws in the dark swirly thing, playing with the weave. I think this was him trying to counter our Conjuration spells.

Once we had breakfasted I used three Stone Shape spells to cut enough steps in the side of the cliff to bring us down to the floor of the Rift and after discussing a vague sort of plan we headed down. Everyone agreed that getting Sybil's remains was the right thing to do.

The first ones down were Shump and Drashnag and they were met by a horde of undead, many zombies of various sizes and ferocity piled into them. The half-orcs started laying about them and from further up the steps the spell casters began their own assault.

Sylvia cast Spiritual Weapon and Basil cast a Chain Lightening into the seething mass of undead, but most of them still stood, not all were human sized, some were tall ghastly things, ogres and wyverns among them.
I cast another 'APE' so Basil could cast Flame Strike. Irritator hit them with several Magic Missiles.
We were cutting through them, but more shambled up to take their place. It seemed like the floor of the Rift was a virtual sea of undead. I really hated this place.