Completed [Play-by-Post] Magic World/BRP: "In Search of the Sorcerer"

[L'ennui]

"... and what, exactly, was your relation with Uvan? Is there anything about him you think we ought to know?" Urash asks, eyes narrow in suspicion.

 

[nikolokolus]

Spoiler

What's the roll I gotta make to know if I can trust Solon, to sense he is telling the truth? Insight? Perception? Instinct?

"In your dealings with people, have you met another Man-of-kor such as this one?" Borric gestures at Urash, "Only the one I speak of was not of scholarly dignity, but more given to skulking in the shadows."

Spoiler

Insight. I'll roll it for you

Borric doesn't detect any body language or subtle clues that would indicate Solon is lying. Either he's a skilled liar, or he's telling the truth.

 

[ERYFKRAD]

Spoiler

What's the roll I gotta make to know if I can trust Solon, to sense he is telling the truth? Insight? Perception? Instinct?

"In your dealings with people, have you met another Man-of-kor such as this one?" Borric gestures at Urash, "Only the one I speak of was not of scholarly dignity, but more given to skulking in the shadows."

Spoiler

Insight. I'll roll it for you

Borric doesn't detect any body language or subtle clues that would indicate Solon is lying. Either he's a skilled liar, or he's telling the truth.

Spoiler

Was gonna roll, but ok, post roll pl0x.

 

[nikolokolus]

Spoiler

What's the roll I gotta make to know if I can trust Solon, to sense he is telling the truth? Insight? Perception? Instinct?

"In your dealings with people, have you met another Man-of-kor such as this one?" Borric gestures at Urash, "Only the one I speak of was not of scholarly dignity, but more given to skulking in the shadows."

Spoiler

Insight. I'll roll it for you

Borric doesn't detect any body language or subtle clues that would indicate Solon is lying. Either he's a skilled liar, or he's telling the truth.

Spoiler

Was gonna roll, but ok, post roll pl0x.

Spoiler

it's a hidden roll ... You don't know if you failed to detect a lie or he's just telling the truth. All I can say is that Borric feels confident in his reading.

 

[nikolokolus]

Solon answers Rhenmyr first: "I've never glimpsed Moledold. As I said I only learned his name from a summoned sandestin; their answers are always indistinct and slippery in the best of cases, and that is all I could manage. If this Maledold is like other halflings, falloy, merrihews and such, then I'm guessing his appearance is according to whim; for nothing is certain when it comes to those who dwell in Otherworld. If I had my appurtenances with me and if my grimoires hadn't been burned to ash by your bumbling compatriot, perhaps I could learn more, but alas . . ." His voice trails off, with a hint of mockery.

Urash directs his query and Solon dithers and speaks noncommittally, "Uvan? Oh I don't know much about him. A man of resources and perhaps questionable means, but he took my gold all the same and was always reliable in his reports. As I gather, there's been some difficulty in Crannógmere these past few months. Uvan told Segovax of a plague, but in private he confessed that it was more like a curse. Such a pity if Aphrodisias were to succumb to the unfortunate goings on there." He smiles somewhat viciously.

 

[L'ennui]

"A curse, hmmm? Indeed!" Urash's face grows harsh and he has a strange look in his eyes.

"Why, it occurs to me that you seem to be positively enjoying yourself, Solon. I should think quips and irony to be quite inappropriate given your predicament, yet here you are regaling us with your banter. Perhaps you are a masochist of sorts? Do you find this whole thing agreeable, hmm? Well, let us be gracious hosts and indulge you."

Urash, visibly seething at Solon's sarcasm, unsheathes his long, ornate dagger. He strides purposefully towards Solon and crouches behind him. Seizing the fat man's right hand and bringing his blade to its index finger, the Acadian says:

"Thread carefully, old man, else your relevance to us will be fast fading... First you assume we are partners or alike in any way, offering to reward us handsomely if we should help you. To tell you the truth, hampering one as loathsome as you is reward enough on its own, but let us lay that aside for now. Then, you dare make light of our comrade's death, again, and casually gloat in the misery of Crannógmere and its folk. Enough of this, I say." Urash's dagger sinks into Solon's flesh, but stops once it breaks the skin.

"How much time will we have in the Otherworld if we cross that bridge? What exactly do you know of Ghul's potential whereabouts? Answer now, scum!"

Spoiler

Unrelated, but nikolokolus do you have any idea how much time has passed since we woke up "drained" before coming to the village? It occurs to me I haven't updated my Magical Points since then.

 

[ERYFKRAD]

Something strikes Borric odd about all of this, a thing he cannot give form to.
He puts his instincts aside for the nonce, strides forward and grabs one of Solon's finger in a mighty grip. "You will do well to not anger us, you craven bloat. Answer the Man-of-kor, then tell me, what has this henchman of yours been telling. Tell me of it all."

Spoiler

Guys halp. Anyone remember which thread our talks with the good people of Crannogmere were? I'm trying to look stuff up but this tiny-ass phone ain't helping.

 

[Grimgravy]

Guys halp. Anyone remember which thread our talks with the good people of Crannogmere were? I'm trying to look stuff up but this tiny-ass phone ain't helping.

Spoiler

Last thread ended with our conversation with Aphrodisias. This thread started with Brule, rewards, and our current quest for Oona.

 

[nikolokolus]

Something strikes Borric odd about all of this, a thing he cannot give form to.
He puts his instincts aside for the nonce, strides forward and grabs one of Solon's finger in a mighty grip. "You will do well to not anger us, you craven bloat. Answer the Man-of-kor, then tell me, what has this henchman of yours been telling. Tell me of it all."

Spoiler

Guys halp. Anyone remember which thread our talks with the good people of Crannogmere were? I'm trying to look stuff up but this tiny-ass phone ain't helping.

Spoiler

there's a link to the old thread in the first post of this thread

 

[nikolokolus]

"A curse, hmmm? Indeed!" Urash's face grows harsh and he has a strange look in his eyes.

"Why, it occurs to me that you seem to be positively enjoying yourself, Solon. I should think quips and irony to be quite inappropriate given your predicament, yet here you are regaling us with your banter. Perhaps you are a masochist of sorts? Do you find this whole thing agreeable, hmm? Well, let us be gracious hosts and indulge you."

Urash, visibly seething at Solon's sarcasm, unsheathes his long, ornate dagger. He strides purposefully towards Solon and crouches behind him. Seizing the fat man's right hand and bringing his blade to its index finger, the Acadian says:

"Thread carefully, old man, else your relevance to us will be fast fading... First you assume we are partners or alike in any way, offering to reward us handsomely if we should help you. To tell you the truth, hampering one as loathsome as you is reward enough on its own, but let us lay that aside for now. Then, you dare make light of our comrade's death, again, and casually gloat in the misery of Crannógmere and its folk. Enough of this, I say." Urash's dagger sinks into Solon's flesh, but stops once it breaks the skin.

"How much time will we have in the Otherworld if we cross that bridge? What exactly do you know of Ghul's potential whereabouts? Answer now, scum!"

Spoiler

Unrelated, but nikolokolus do you have any idea how much time has passed since we woke up "drained" before coming to the village? It occurs to me I haven't updated my Magical Points since then.

Spoiler

about twelve hours, so you shouldhave gained back half of your maximum magic points by now.

 

[Siveon]

"You're telling twisted tales, prisoner. When we first met you, you said Abazion was a meek apprentice. That you never expected any sort of treachery from him, and now you claim he's a rival sorcerer? Do you know of his plans? What else aren't you telling us?" Marcán says, reaching for his sword.

 

[nikolokolus]

"A curse, hmmm? Indeed!" Urash's face grows harsh and he has a strange look in his eyes.

"Why, it occurs to me that you seem to be positively enjoying yourself, Solon. I should think quips and irony to be quite inappropriate given your predicament, yet here you are regaling us with your banter. Perhaps you are a masochist of sorts? Do you find this whole thing agreeable, hmm? Well, let us be gracious hosts and indulge you."

Urash, visibly seething at Solon's sarcasm, unsheathes his long, ornate dagger. He strides purposefully towards Solon and crouches behind him. Seizing the fat man's right hand and bringing his blade to its index finger, the Acadian says:

"Thread carefully, old man, else your relevance to us will be fast fading... First you assume we are partners or alike in any way, offering to reward us handsomely if we should help you. To tell you the truth, hampering one as loathsome as you is reward enough on its own, but let us lay that aside for now. Then, you dare make light of our comrade's death, again, and casually gloat in the misery of Crannógmere and its folk. Enough of this, I say." Urash's dagger sinks into Solon's flesh, but stops once it breaks the skin.

"How much time will we have in the Otherworld if we cross that bridge? What exactly do you know of Ghul's potential whereabouts? Answer now, scum!"

Solon's smug expression vanishes at the sight of Urash's dagger and the color drains from his face, "I misspoke . . . time embitters the soul I suppose? It's been almost a dozen years since Ghul unceremoniously dropped me in this dump! But, I served him faithfully, without complaint *he mutters under his breath* not that it would matter. But, I can help you! There's no need for violence! I am a man of learning and scholarship like yourself. If you pass over the Godsbrigg at the proper moment there's not even a need for a gate, simply invoke 'Witchsight' and the path will be laid bare. Phobos is in apogee, so time will flow differently in the nether realms; a day there might be no more than an hour here, but your time is not unlimited, if you tary and are not back across the bridge by dawn in this world, then you might be stuck in the Otherworld for decades . . . though, without a sun and without seasons, I'm uncertain how you will reckon time?" He pauses and gulps hard; his eyes full of fear and loathing, "Ghul's body is "dead," but I know he created at least one simulacra and hid it in a place only accessible to himself, but without his vital essence it would lay inert until activated. Ghul didn't know it, but I learned there was a 'pocket' of netherspace in the tower where he hid one such simulacra. The way in required the use of a 'key,' a simple rod he carried on his person. The phial of 'Dragon's Blood' and the rite contained in the Al-Hakim grimoire was a fail-safe to be used in the event that his other contingency failed."

"You're telling twisted tales, prisoner. When we first met you, you said Abazion was a meek apprentice. That you never expected any sort of treachery from him, and now you claim he's a rival sorcerer? Do you know of his plans? What else aren't you telling us?" Marcán says, reaching for his sword.

"With my life in your hands and my task failed, what does it matter now?" He sighs and continues with a defeated tone, "Frankly Kelt, I assumed you lot had been sent here by Abazion himself to kill me and steal the master's phial and grimoire. I called Abazion 'meek' and 'pliant' to win your trust, but I can see now that I may have erred in my assumptions."

"The honest truth is that Abazion was young and green when I knew him, but gifted and extremely ambitious. Ghul found him in a Mitraic orphanage and raised him from the time he was nine or ten, doting on the boy and refusing to heed my warnings and couldn't or wouldn't see the threat he posed -- he was like a poison, turning the other apprentices against Ghul and hatched secret plots to undermine him; subtly at first, but then more and more brazen. It wasn't until I caught Abazion and Aphrodisias in a coital embrace and reported it, that he started to see how much of a scorpion he was. But Master Ghul never let on that he knew of the affair and kept close counsel. It was several years later that his revenge was brought to full flower. Under the pretense of an expedition, Ghul brought Djivan, Tychon, Orsiphantes (sometimes called Al-Dirziddi), Aphrodisias and myself to this hinterland searching for some odd substance he referred to as 'Dragon's Blood.' Truth be told, He must have come here at some point in the past because he knew the terrain as well as I know the streets of Odessos, and appeared to be on friendly terms with several Drunes and Druids we encountered.

In due course, he brought us to a ruined broch at the top of a mountain north of here called Mynydd Torri and instructed us to guard a staircase that descends deep into the earth. He entered alone and returned about ten minutes later looking, bruised, haggard and worn, but cradling a crystal decanter full of a ruby-red fluid that glinted in the moonlight. He didn't explain himself and refused to answer any questions. Only after a fitful night of sleep in the lee of a broken wall, we descended in the morning and trekked across the mountains overlooking Crannógmere and came to a ring of menhirs that overlook Loch Oerní."

"In the shadows of the stones, Ghul commanded Djivan, Aphrodisias, Tychon, and Orsiphantes to drink from a goblet and join hands. He spoke the words of an incantation I had never heard before, but I could feel its power -- I can still feel the words clawing at my mind like nails on a piece of slate; it nearly overwhelmed me. When I recovered and looked up I saw that all four had strange blank expressions on their faces. One by one, Ghul whispered into their ears, and placed a small parcel in their hands. Just like that their eyes regained their light and they seemed to be in control of their faculties, but when they looked around none of them seemed to register that Ghul, myself or indeed any of the others were present -- it was as though each considered themselves completely alone on that hill. Aphrodisias was the first to depart. She descended from the stone ring toward the village by the lake, and when she was gone, Ghul created three gates under the arches of the menhirs. One-by-one, the three passed through an arch and vanished from sight. That's when Ghul and I walked to Dinas Dardanii and he revealed his plans for me. He gave me the grimoire of Al-Hakim and the decanter and told me to wait until he sent for me. He intimated that all four had conspired with Abazion against him, and chuckled when he considered the irony of the task he imposed on each of them. I don't know what 'tasks' he set them and I don't know why he thought it was so ironic, but I've seen that look on his face before when he and I would play chess and he'd employ a particularly devious gambit."

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

"That is an interesting story if true. It appears that all of Ghul's associates are not to be trusted from your story. Due to your behavior, I would say you are not to be trusted also, but that is another matter. While Ghul's former associates may have some sort of spell cast over them to alter their behavior, we don't know if there is a trigger to end it. What then would an agent of Abazion do when released from their mental bondage? Solon, It looks like you will be coming with us across the bridge. I am sure that you already knew this. Your knowledge may prove useful on the other side. I additionally have some use for you beyond a guide to find the lost artifacts of Ghul. Since your grimoire was destroyed, I think you would have need to write down your memorized knowledge and lore. Luckily, I have the a way to assist you." Amon pulls out a short wooden tube and removes rolled pieces of parchment. Some of the parchment is covered in symbols, words in unknown languages, and drawings. He pulls a few blank pieces of parchment and seerates them from the covered pages "I want you to write down everything you know this evening. No tricks either, or you may spend the rest of your existence on the other side of the bridge." Amon turns to the group. "Friends, I think we know what must be done. If Ghul's vial and the book of Al-Hakim lie on the other side of this bridge, we must acquire them. The vial may also lead to a way to save my father from his curse."

Spoiler

I read the rules on learning new spells. No matter what it takes quite a while.

 

[nikolokolus]

Solon's eyes go wide and his mouth works up and down a few times, clearly apoplectic, "This is outrageous! I spent my life acquiring my art, and you'd have me sell it off like some street hawker, peddling turnips in the market! Worse, you would steal it and give me nothing for it." He turns and pleads with Urash, "You there, Acadian. You're a man of scholarship and the academy. Do you give your aprobration to this outrage? Surely you find this beyond the pale!?"

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

Amon bends forward towards Solon's face and grabs the top of his shirt and speaks calmly and quietly, without emotion. "I don't care how much time you have put into your craft and knowlege. That is all irrelevant in your current situation. You exist at our pleasure, and from the looks of the others, there is nearly nothing holding them back from ending you right here and now. Without some quick intervention, your head would long have been separated from your sholder back on town. Not a situation you would have wanted to find yourself in, I am sure. From your stories and what I know of the search everyone else is on, you are defianately a part of the problem. So you really only have one choice, comply."

 

[nikolokolus]

Solon starts to say something, but clips his words short. He reluctantly takes the sheafs of scrollls and the quill and sullenly starts to work.

The wind kicks up on the open bottomland and storm clouds race low across the sky from the western forest. You each attend to your work setting up camp, sharpening swords, testing bow strings and look longingly at the walls of Dinas Dardanii a bow-shot away. The smells of cooking meat waft on the wind, and ruddy firelight dances from the braizers set atop the pallisade wall.

Spoiler

Since you are essentially camping within sight of the village, there is a very, very low probability of anything terrible happening. If everyone is OK with it we can fast-forward time a couple of days, which gives everyone some time to heal, recover Magic Points, do any research, torture your prisoner, etc. -- It also gives a justification for skill improvement rolls that we just did. Anyway, just hit 'agree' or 'disagree' to vote

 

[L'ennui]

"Solon, although I do appreciate the intricacy and time involved in your work, I am not bothered that it should benefit us rather than you. Now get to work, if you please."

 

[nikolokolus]

time passes

Let no one say I'm not a merciful god.

Everyone is fully healed (via Heal spells), Magic Points are fully restored and Solon finishes transcribing his memorized spells.

The next three days and nights pass without event. Men from the village patrolling the moors come out of the gates periodically, but keep their distance.

Solon finishes a couple dozen pages of work and seems utterly exhausted and dejected (everyone with casting skill can make an INT x1 roll to see if they can grok Solon's methods).

Solon indicates that the conjunction will occur at dusk at the Bridge of Mists; the very same bridge you crossed to reach Dinas Dardanii several days prior.

You break camp and walk or ride the league to the bridge and wait though the afternoon for the sun to set. Several hours after midday the atmosphere starts to change: the light drizzle that's been soaking your cloaks breaks and the clouds clear a bit. Another hour goes by and the temperature drops precipitously; your breath now comes out as billowing steam and a frost forms on the sedges and heath around you. The sun sinks low on the horizon and drops behind the dark line of hills and forest.

Solon points to the purple-gray sky overhead and draws your attention to a spot in the sky where a strange sight looms. Faint and barely perceptible at first, a disc of slightly darker hue starts to materialize. As minutes pass, it becomes darker and darker until it is jet black. You stand transfixed for a bit and when you lower your eyes and look around, you notice a mist gathering along the breadth of the banks of the Danu river. Five minutes later the mist becomes a dense fog and spreads out and envelops you and blots out the sky; reducing visibility to no more than a dozen yards or so.

Solon's voice breaks the silence, "Time is of the essence, if you're going to carry through on your plan, now is the time move." His tone is apprehensive.

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

Spoiler

I would ensure that Urash gets a crack at copying Solon's spells also.

[1d100] = 13 vs19=Success

 

[L'ennui]

Spoiler

HOLY SHIT

[1d100] = 1

EDIT: Urash takes a few tentative steps forward on the bridge, peering into the mist. "Fascinating..."

 

[ERYFKRAD]

Borric casts about for a few moments and flings a rock at the disc.

 

[Siveon]

Marcán grows an ever hatred over mage studies. Perhaps it is because he cannot comprehend them.

Int Check (15) vs [1d100] = 90

 

[Grimgravy]

Rhenmyr makes sure Solon's hands are bound then prods him along. "Lead the way, and woe to you should this be a fool's errand!"

 

[nikolokolus]

Spell learnin'

Llywelyn ap Gruffydd Amon, is able to learn the spells contained in the parchments, but it's going to take you a full week of uninterrupted study before you'll actually be able to use these incantations, the roll simply means that you are able to grok it. L'ennui Urash on the other hand scores a critical success. All of the spells are written in a way that almost perfectly matches the short-hand that you use in your own grimoire. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that Solon was probably trained in the same academy or tradition you were. Also, be sure to mark off your INT score for an improvement roll. In short: Urash transcribes the spells to his own grimoire, and Amon will need a bit more time. However, if Amon wanted he could read the spell off of the notes, but casting time would increase from 1 round to 1 minute per magic point.

Spells gained:
(Magic World): Summon Demon, Brazier of Power, Witchsight (Advanced Sorcery): Infernal Perception, Rune of Protection. If either of you need full spell descriptions, let me know and I'll send it to you via PM. You can mark these down in your grimoire Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, just make a note that they won't be available until you spend a full week of dedicated study.

Urash spends a full day going over Solon's short-hand notes, diagrams, recipes and methods and it all seems in order. Several spells resolve themselves and he doesn't appear to have laid any nasty traps inside his transcriptions. Amon, likewise starts to grasp the meaning behind his weird, anti-logical notes, but you know you're going to need more time to commit all of the syllables and gestures to memory.

Meanwhile

Borric launches a stone down the bridge, it ricochets loudly off of the cobbled surface and skitters across the rune engraved circle at the center of the bridge before clattering out of sight; enveloped by the dense fog. Solon winces at Rhenmyr's prodding and trudges sullenly up to the rune circle, before stopping and kneeling down. He looks up into the sky (which is blocked by the fog), squints and chews his lower lip thoughtfully. "Free my hands, so I can test something."

 

[Grimgravy]

Rhenmyr binds Solon's feet before freeing his hands. He stands by with spear ready for treachery.