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diff --git a/src/dnd/spell-gauntlet.org b/src/dnd/spell-gauntlet.org deleted file mode 100644 index 9eb030d..0000000 --- a/src/dnd/spell-gauntlet.org +++ /dev/null @@ -1,683 +0,0 @@ -#+TITLE: Spell Gauntlet: Practical Spellcasting -#+CLASS: dnd -#+CATEGORIES: FF SS WP - -* Teleport - -** Wizard - ft. Ula Mindis -The young Wizard Ula Mindis awoke to the smell of steeping tea. - -She sighed, opened her sleep-encrusted eyes, and yawned. Another day. -Another attempt. She rolled out of bed and drifted over to the -window. It was cracked open, but she threw it wide to welcome the -morning air and golden sunrise into her bedroom, or study rather. -She'd recently moved her most used bookcases in here for easy access. -Her spellbook sat open at its usual spot, turned to the page she'd -most recently been studying. This particular spell she'd attempted -half a dozen times to no avail, but this morning felt somehow -auspicious for it. - -Ula looked over the first line. The elven letters were written in her -own hand. She had copied the carefully penned italic espruar letters -from an old scroll recovered from a captured pirate ship no more than -a tenday ago and had tried to cast the spell immediately. When she -failed, she had rechecked the writing a dozen times against every -source she could find, so she was sure that the letters weren't the -problem, she was. - -The tea arrived, cup wobbling in midair, held by a construct of pure -magical force, whom she thanked politely. The morning breeze caught -the bay spray and filled the room with the smell of salt and sorcery. - -Perhaps she could not cast the spell, Ula mused, because she was -perfectly happy exactly where she was. - -Emboldened by the tea, she shook away the thought and dove again into -the spell. Just imagine what was possible! No longer would she have -to send away for expensive spell components. She could just say the -words and pick them up herself. She could visit her family back in -Mulmaster or take a vacation on the shores of some exotic beach -island. - -She finished the first line, an anchoring, and began on the second. -While the first had been filled with words of permanence and -stability, the second was quite the opposite, using words of whimsy -and transcendence. She had gone over this before, even looking up -words and pronunciation from the deepest parts of her library. - -This time though, the spell began to make sense. Like a distant blur -on the horizon solidifying into a ship, but that didn't mean that she -could sail upon it. No, the spell would likely take another tenday to -work through at this rate. - -She moved to the next line, back to permanence, repetition, solidity, -before turning again to shifting sand and billowing wind. The salty -sea-spray began to blow against her spellbook, almost flipping the -page mid-sentence. She nearly cursed, but a mage learns to be careful -with errant words early in her education, and she remained silent. -She reached for her tea, but it had grown cold. She absent-mindedly -heated it with a cantrip and brought the near-boiling mug to her lips. - -Ow! - -She set it down again and sent her unseen servant for an ice-block for -the tea. - -She thought about ice, about water, then again about the spell. - -Permanence. Transience. Solidity. Liquidity. - -That was it! - -By the time the ice-cube arrived the tea was long forgotten. - -"Of course! The key isn't thinking about location at all, it's about -matter! I'm solid right now. I need to be liquid! A solid cannot -move, but a liquid flows, through time, through space, it doesn't -matter!" - -Ula poured herself into the spell and the teacup clattered to the -floor as she used her full concentration on the spell at hand. She -focused on the market down below her. Fish-mongers barked their -catches to the passersby and coin flowed freely. - -The words came one after another perfectly, Ula could almost predict -them. Permanence. Transience. Solidity. Liquidity. - -And suddenly she was in the marketplace. - -The surprised merchants around her started then blushed as she cheered -"I did it! I did it!" and jumped up and down. - -Only after nearly a minute of excited and likely bewildering -explanation to the surprised fellows did Ula realize she had not -changed from her slip and nightgown yet. - -Oh well. She needn't be that embarrassed. She could always move; now -the world was at her fingertips. - -** Sorcerer - ft. Saffron Dayl'asaar - -Saffron looked at the picture of the remote village. - -"You've got to be kidding me." she stated in deadpan. - -"No, I assure you that is the location of the disturbance!" said the -thin old actuary. He stooped over the table with a lens held to one -eye peering at her as if he expected her to pop out of existence at -any second. - -Which, admittedly, she was likely to do, assuming of course that she -could locate the stlarned place to disappear to. - -"No, I mean, this is the best information you have?" - -"Oh yes. Absolutely positively the best. The mine is just right by -the village you see. That is where Betrice, our informant that is, -recovered the clues. It's just luck that she thought the mine pretty -and drew it for us in such exquisite detail." - -/Exquisite detail my arse./ thought Saffron. - -The eldest child of the now-esteemed Dayl'asaar family of Aglarond, -Saffron had always been the adventurous one, even more so than her -trio of older brothers. So when the Institute came knocking three -years ago, Saffron was the one to take up the call, not her father, -not her brothers, but little Saffron spell-touched. Plus, she was the -only one of them capable of the kind of magics that the Institute -really lacked, even though the spells didn't always go off exactly as -she planned. - -"Okay. It will have to do." She snatched up the paper and her -traveling gear and concentrated on the picture and on her breathing. - -The mine was rather typical, but the old actuary, the elder one of the -Minster Brothers who ran the Institute for the Recovery of Rare and -Dangerous Artifacts, had supplied her with an atlas of remarkable -detail and enough stories to feel as if she knew the place intimately. -Or perhaps at least enough to try to translocate to it. - -Saffron felt her breath go out into the world and spread out -impossibly far. The world shift beneath her. She felt connected to -the strands of the Weave around her, following them like a cart along -a track, but moving impossibly fast. Her mind raced across the land, -across the sea, to where the atlas had shown her. She hesitated above -the island for a moment gauging the possibilities. Then suddenly she -was plummeting into the jungles. This was no divination, so she could -not actually see any details, only what she imagined the jungles to -look like based on the dark greens and browns of the atlas. Suddenly -a mine was in front of her. There was no saying if it was the right -one, or if it really was a mine or not, but Saffron was tired of -waiting. She drew up the power within her and stepped through the -world itself. - -She stepped through the Weave and out into a monsoon. She snagged a -strand of loose magic on the way out and an explosion of cold air -burst forth from where she was standing, instantly freezing raindrops -into mini-hailstones which pounded her mercilessly. - -"Ugh, Mystra you're working with Talos now to make my life violent and -unpredictable? Is it too much to ask for--I don't know--a normal -casting every once in a while?" - -Her curses as she trudged through the rain would have made her -ancestors, the Day'lasaar pirates of the Sea of Fallen Stars, proud. - -** Bard - ft. Orryn Raulnor - -"You mean you're the third Raulnor with that name?!" the sellsword -asked incredulously. - -"No, no. Where I'm from that means that I'm the third oldest son." a -gnome in gilded leathers replied. - -"I see. Still too long for my tastes, I'm not for knowing what yer -parents was for thinking, but nobody needs a name that damn long. And -what about that 'sonoviches' part?" - -"Well, that's a bit complicated: it roughly translates to something -somewhere between 'indefatigable one who spits on witches' and -'largely punctual' ... it's a family name." - -The table erupted in laughter. - -Soon thereafter, the group seated around the table parted company and -the gnome made his way into the street. - -He wasn't nearly as drunk as his companions had been, but he only -barely noticed the shapes in the alley before he'd walked into them. - -Orryn licked his lips and looked over at the subtle shapes of his -soon-to-be assailants. - -There were perhaps eight of them now, arrayed in a semicircle around -him in the darkness. He should have known better than to flaunt his -gold around the tavern as he'd done. But them again, it wasn't all -bad. It had been far too long since he had a chance to live a good -story instead of simply tell one. - -"Excuse me gentlesirs, how can I help you this fine night?" the -gnomish bard, twirling a strand of his green beard around his finger -in a gesture of mock-nervousness, asked the group of local toughs. - -One of the larger of the group stepped forward into the alleyway and -quickly botched whatever ready line he'd been prepared to say. They -evidently hadn't realized the gnome has seen them before he'd spoken. - -"Halt there, uh, sirrah. It looks like you've, uh, forgot to pay the -toll." - -"Hmm, I hadn't taken ye to be trolls, but now in the light I do see -the resemblance." - -The group was not particularly disciplined, most likely coming -together recently at the smell of gold and lacking for a real leader. -About half of them were silent and nearly shaking with anticipation. -The other half were blustering fools. - -"Did'ja he just call Cratch t'be a troll?" one asked. - -"He is a troll!" another joked. - -"Your mother's a troll." Cratch replied. "Now little one, hand over -your money or you'll wish I's a troll." - -"All right, all right. No need to be hasty. I'm sure you're all -upstanding gents and just want to use the money to pay off your debts -and buy your mothers veiled carriages. Here, take the money." - -Orryn pulled at a pouch on his waist, snapping the straps, and tossed -it on the ground in front of Cratch and the others. It fell open and -several dozen large gold coins rolled from the sack. - -The octet dived for the spilled coins and struggled with one another -to snatch them up. - -"Of course, this sum is just a trifle compared to what I keep at -home." - -The novitiate robbers looked up with various states of doubt, -incomprehension, and greed. This had been the plan, but somehow it -was far too easy. The smart thing to do would be to grab the gold and -flee. But these were not particularly smart men, less so when blinded -by the fortunes of gold held in their hands. - -"Take us there." - -"As you wish..." The rest of Orryn's sing-song sentence danced in the -wind to distant places and forgotten ages. The eight bullies found -their thoughts taken far away as the strange music lifted them up and -carried them upon a journey. The true names of places are powerful -things, most strange and unpronounceable, most lost to time immortal. -But the bard's magic remembered them. His words were not an -incantation as much as a call-and-response. His voice echoed through -the world, and the world responded. - -Orryn and the eight were suddenly elsewhere. A very far away -elsewhere. Snow billowed through the air and covered the icy ground -in heaps. - -Orryn's captives reeled and screamed in terror. - -"Where are we?? Curse you wizard!" - -"Fear not. Everything is under control. We are in the middle of a -northern glacier, where a small expedition settlement once existed. I -hadn't planned on the blizzard, but I suppose you're familiar with the -adage 'we take what we are given.'" - -Cratch lunged at the diminutive bard, but Orryn was already in the -midst of another spell. He spoke words that felt like rushing air and -drifted lazily into the sky, just out of reach of the huddled mob. He -extended his arms, recited the lightly tingly words that covered his -body with bright red faerie fire, and then spoke with a voice that -boomed through the icy plain. - -"Hear me well, I am Orryn Maye Sylvester Miles Felix Hectacre Notin -Jiles Bulron Sysil-Sisler Klif-Wistler Anasto'tofande Sonoviches -Overton Sennison Johnnyson Raulnor the Third, Bard of Faerun, Walker -of Worlds, Smiter of Evildoers and Annoying Backwater Pricks, and -I. AM. NOT. A. WIZARD." - -The group cowered and shivered before a spectacle of magical prowess -unlike any they had ever seen or were ever likely to see again. - -"And if you would give me back my coin, I would appreciate it." - -A few hours later, the eight would-be robbers staggered into a -tavern, each holding a single gold piece and a story. - -None of them would ever rob again. - - -* Prestidigitation - -** Magic Initiate Feat - Wizard - ft. Harvey Hoban Harpell -"Whadd'ya mean cutof?" - -"I mean, cut off. You, Mr. Harpell, are cut off. No more drinks -tonight. Sit, enjoy the fire, rest. Do nothing to rouse the ire of -my other patrons. Especially none of that odoriferous weed of yours!" - -"Whadd'ya mean rows the ira!" Here, turning to a hooded man nursing a -half-pint of dark liquor beside him. "Do I rows ya ira?!" The man -turned to face him, grim faced, and in a motion dumped the glass' -contents over the young man's dirty matted head of hair and set the -empty glass upon the counter before the frowning bartender. - -"That's a waste of good liquor, Malcom." - -"Just wanted to give'im one last drink is all. I'll pay." - -The bartender sighed and reluctantly poured the man another glass. - -"How come 'e gets some!?" - -"Go. Sit... Now." - -The dripping cleric, robes which had successfully avoided the downpour -now dripping with a darker rain, wobbled over to the fire and landed -upon a cushion with some measure of practiced grace, or luck. - -"Oh, Mal-com gets another drink. Sure." He looked to give the man an -evil-eye but noticed for the first time that he was not alone. "Oh, -ladies, my apprologries." He attempted to stand but finding -extracting himself from his seat more difficult than anticipated, -simply half-bowed to the pair of dripping maids. Straining for words, -he offered, "I see you're wet! I can help you with that!" - -As he struggled with gaining control of his faculties to remember the -blasted name of that cantrip, the sound of broken glass from across -the room cut through the lively atmosphere. - -The Selune's Smile was rather crowded with weary travelers looking for -rest or for revel. Twin fireplaces bookended the common area, giving -a warm glow to the ancient decor. Gristly trophies bequeathed to the -tavern adorned the walls: dragon scales, naga fangs, and owlbear heads -among them. A few quiet tapestries hang from the rafters, heralding -the ancient Lords of Waterdeep who frequented the tavern in times long -since past. - -It is said that every adventurer of the Sword Coast eventually finds -her way to the City of Splendors, but rarely do so many of them come -to a particular tavern all at once. - -Seated across from the most recent blackfish of the Harpell family, -sat a pair of ladies wearing drenched leathers and scowls. - -Harvey seemed not to notice the latter as he inventoried his magical -repertoire. - -/Prefeguritat?/ - -/Pregnanitato?/ - -/Presdogranado?/ - -/No. That'd jus worse./ - -The room grew instantly silent at the spilling glass and subsequent -trading of blows. - -/No, youse keep talkin, gotta thing./ he silently berated the floor. - -/Prestangerition?/ - -One of the combatants fell to the floor and then laboriously dragged -himself back up and slumped into a nearby chair. Harvey thought he -heard one of the two women, the shorter one, say something, "Need -some... mumble mumble Moose?" - -/Moose?/ - -/His mind joined his liver, slowly churning through the facts of the day./ - -/Animal. Forest. Green. She's kinda greenish. I wonder if she's -from a forest? Ew, she's probaly dirty if she came from a forest. Eh, -nothin a little Prestidigitation couldn't fix./ - -/.../ - -"Prestidigitation!" He shouted over the now-returned din. Magic leapt -from his fingers, but not exactly with the effect he had originally -intended. Reminded of the magical pranks from his childhood, his most -common retaliatory strike was that of the "foul wind." This came -unbidden to him now, and the magic unleashed the foul smelling breeze -from his fingertips. - - -* Cure Wounds - -** Bard -** Cleric - ft. Harvey Hoban Harpell - -The minor scuffle in the tavern had turned to outright chaos. Harvey -struggled to look unassuming beside the fireplace. The two furious -women had stomped off for some reason and then suddenly returned, -except... one of them had a thick moose pelt thrown up over her arm -like a shield and had grappled away a sword from an unfortunate fellow -behind her, and... - -Oh no, now there were three of them. The wet woman, the moose woman, -and a new woman... who could probably lift a moose. And despite his -best efforts, his "gusts" had spread to even the outer tables. People -were taking notice. Through it all, came the deep contralto of what -he could only assume was a giantess, standing now, teeth clenched and -nearly trembling with rage. - -"What is the meaning of this?" - -Even drunk, even stupid, there was no mistaking that tone. - -Stumbling with words, with mental images, and especially the literal -stumbling involved when attempting to slink backwards from fear of a -large angry Goliath woman, at first Harvey could do little more than -whimper. - -Stopping just short of the fire, it's tongues licking the edges of his -trailing sleeves, he composed himself as well as he could in the face -of possible crushing death, closed his eyes, and sputtered "Excuse my -casting m'lady. My name is Harvey Hoban Harpell, 'eric'a Eldath. I -only meant to help." Then peeking carefully from one eye he added, -"Please don' crush me." - -He was inadvertently saved by another man. The drunken merchant lost -his footing as he approached the bar for another bottle of stsass and -stumbled into the goliath maid's firm buttocks. He might as well have -walked into a wall for all the good it did him. Actually, he most -certainly would have preferred to walk into a wall, as walls don't -seize you by the collar, hoist you over their heads and fling you at -their true sources of rage. - -Layers of fat flapped in the wind, terrified by their unnatural -acceleration. Equally terrified, the eye Harvey had dared to open -flinched shut. He could hear the sounds of the fireplace mantle above -him abruptly stopping the man-boulder's flight. And a moment later he -could feel the crushing weight of the man-boulder's fall, the hard -coolness of the wooden floor against his face, and the uncomfortable -warmth and wetness of a terrified unconscious man letting go after a -long night of drinking. - -In that moment, he felt that the only proper thing to do was to join -him. - -Minutes passed and Harvey was more than satisfied with resting -stupidly beneath his boulderous brother, surrounded by the incontinent -smells and the tumultuous clatter of battle... wait. Battle? - -/Oh no. What have I done?/ - -Harvey tried to stand, to lift his face from the hard pearwood -floorboards, to see what was going on. Red blood splattered down -beside his cheek. It was warm and fresh. He managed to lift his -shoulders and turn. A bloody maw lolled above him, the jaw obviously -broken, tongue bit, nearly severed. Bruising was already beginning to -settle in between the voluminous folds of fat around the face and neck --- black and blue and red. - -Suddenly what was the proper thing moments ago seemed foolish. This -whole night seemed foolish. Eldath, what have I done? This man is -hurt because of me. I started a brawl. I'm not worthy of serving -you. - -In Harvey's frantic heart, beside the furious pounding and self-pity, -came a shiver. It raced along his chest, along his limbs, his spine a -roadway, his bumbling extremities the destination. A familiar sense -of peace, contentment, and quiet perfection, washed over him like a -gentle flowing stream. The sensation reached his head, starting from -the base of the skull and rushing forward to envelop him, to hold him, -to wrap him tightly in a warm stillness. All was silent. - -And yet from in that perfect silence, Harvey could almost hear a quiet -voice, a whisper of a whisper upon the wind breathe to him. - -/I know.../ - -The silence abated and the bustling lights and sounds of the taverns -returned. - -Thank you, m'Lady. Harvey mouthed deferentially. Then squeezing a -hand beneath his torso and the floor and taking up his holy symbol -from around his neck, he gently turned his body into a sitting -position against the wall, the large man laying across his lap, and -allowed the Peace of Eldath to flow through him and into the man. - -He spoke words, though he knew them not, and the symbol of the rushing -waterfall and the still pool gleamed with a quiet silver and blue -light. The unconscious man's wounds were bathed in the light, and his -clotting blood staunched, his bruises soothed, his avulsed tongue knit -together, and jaw gently returned to place. He opened his eyes, -wonderstruck, then promptly grimaced at the smell in the air and in -his trousers. - -"Oh, right!" Harvey waved away the effect of the cantrip and helped -the man to his feet. - -** Druid -** Paladin - ft. -** Ranger - - -* Power Word Kill - -** Wizard -** Warlock - - -* The Fugue - -The orcs pulled you down. - -They beat you. You could feel the blood in your mouth, and leaking -beneath your skin. You could feel their clubs break you. You felt -your spine snap, one, two, three places. Frantic, try to focus on the -spells your patron left you. But you know there is nothing there. So -you flex the fingers on your right hand, where your brand is--the -deep, red burn which you know will never heal. You feel the bitter -the connection to Nine Hells, in some ways it feels like a fishing -line pulling you back there, and in other it just feels like a part of -your body, like a gland. Pulling on the connection feels like crying, -but tears of sulfur and of smoke. Soon hot, sticky, bruised-looking -energy responds to your call and leaks from the brand like pus. An -orc stands over you, a battleaxe held high above his head, and you -fling it at him with a roar of defiance. He takes it full in the face -and his brain explodes out the back of his head. - -But he wasn't the only orc, and the hits keep coming, You know that -you are going to die. - -Soon the blows stop hurting. The world stops spinning and everything -is very very quiet. - -... - -You don't open your eyes. There's no moment of focusing, blurred -vision, bright light. You just see. You just are. - -You're standing on a desolate plain. The sky is a dull shade of dark -gray, the same color as the thick dirt which covers the ground like -dusty snow. You can see ahead for hundreds of miles, but it doesn't -seem to strike you as odd. - -You aren't alone. - -Others, mostly humans, but a half-orc here, a half-elf there, move -through the dirt, knocking up clouds of dust in their wakes. They -move so slowly. - -You are standing. - -You look down at your hand, there is no brand. You flex the fingers, -but there is no burning sensation. In fact, there's barely any -sensation at all. It doesn't seem to strike you as odd. - -As you turn the hand over to put it back at your side, you notice that -where the brand was, on the back is a small red patch of dried ink. -Perhaps some rune or letter? It doesn't seem important. - -You drop the arm to your side, slowly, quietly, and begin to walk. - -Nearby is a small hill. Several men and women are gathered on it. -They seem to be singing. - -A light opens above them and a creature with wings of fire and a -shield emblazoned with the symbol of an upright gauntlet appears. -With a circular motion of his arm and a smile, the light becomes a -whirlwind and the faithful are lifted up into the shining gateway and -disappear in an anti-climactic non-flash of light. For as suddenly as -the herald appeared, he is gone and the plain is returned to stoic -grayness. You notice that even the hill is gone. But it doesn't seem -important. - -You spot a woman along your path, old, wrinkled, dirty, as grey as the -dust and sky. She is sobbing softly, clutching at her knees. She -wears the low-cut rags of a Luskan whore. Her eyes grow wide with -fear as you approach. But you hear a voice call out "do not be -afraid." Your eyes follow the voice, to a woman standing nearby. She -radiates beauty. Calling her beautiful is like calling the sky -overcast. It is like calling the air stale or the dirt dirty. She -reaches out a hand to the woman, her long red hair flowing in a wind -that isn't there. The old woman bounds to her feet. She falls, but -stands and tries again, every step growing stronger until she grasps -the hand of her goddess and is clothed in the beauty and vitality of -her youth. She cries with joy, collapsing into the breast of the -goddess, and the pair step through the planes together leaving behind -the scent of strawberries and freshly cut grass. - -The scent dissipates quickly and you continue walking. - -You see others wandering aimlessly like yourself. - -You all seem to be walking in the same direction. - -In the distance is a circle of lights around an impossibly thin silver -line disappearing into the sky. - -Your approach takes many hours, perhaps days or months or years, but -eventually the lights become a city. A huge city. The walls rise -over a mile high, and moan softly, though you can't tell how or why. - -From a large gate, hooded figures approach the aimless walkers, -including yourself. One stops before you and removes her hood with a -look of vague, forced, curiosity. She isn't exactly human, she has -scales across her face and bright yellow eyes which are difficult to -follow. - -She speaks, but the words are distant, muffled, "Guarded Faithless or -Bargained Soul?" - -A deep, resonating, but scratchy voice answers from somewhere behind -and above you. - -"The first. Perhaps next time... the second." - -After a moment of consideration she nods deferentially, raises her -hood, and turns towards the city, ushering you forward. - -The walls continue to grow as you get closer. They must be ten miles -high. This city must house millions. Around you is a crowd, closely -packed among each other, though most give you a wide berth. Now -devils mingle among the humans, whispering, promising. They lead away -many. - -As you approach the wall, the whimpering grows louder. The wall has -faces. Bodies are stuck together with rotting mortar, which dissolves -them like a giant stomach. - -Suddenly jagged rifts open beside and before you, along the wall. -Creatures with the faces and tusks of pigs, but the bodies of great -apes rush through, crushing or tossing aside both wandering Faithless -and cloaked guides. - -Horns blare clearly through the otherwise muted scene of violence. - -The guides throw aside their cloaks and brandish sickles and shields. -Devils howl war cries and abandon their bargaining to do battle with -their hated foes. - -The demons flow through the rifts in a great horde and begin to tear -at the wall, dragging huge chunks back through with them into the -Abyss. Some moaning souls cry out as many are ripped asunder, torn -from a slow non-existence of centuries to one of instants. The rest -disappear into the Abyss, their forms already being twisted into those -of the demons that abducted them. - -A giant six-armed demon with fangs like a viper rushes at you. You -raise your hand to call down fire upon it, but you have no power on -which to call. - -A bony whip-like barbed tail shoots out from behind you, striking the -creature and sending it writhing to the ground. A massive bone devil -steps over you, it's skeletal spider-like limbs moving to propel it -impossibly fast through the slow-motion battlefield. It hefts a -greatclub that was probably once the femurs of one of those huge -pig-ape-devils and smashes the six-armed serpent into a blackish -pulp. The blood splashes up into your face, leaving a line of acidic -muck running down your nose, between your eyes. - -Then the fighting stops as suddenly as it started. An angel, clad in -flames the color of the sky shuts the portals with a pointed word and -outstretched finger and surveys the damage to the wall before flying -off towards the great spire of Kelemvor, the god of the dead. - -The bone devil turns and looks you over. "It is time. The vessel has -arrived." He then leaves you and cuts a thin line in the air with his -tail. He steps through it and disappears, leaving behind the familiar -scent of sulfur and brimstone. You hear the distant sound of a faint -chime. It's probably not important. - --- - -You open your eyes. There's a moment of focusing, blurred vision, and -bright light. You take a breath and feel the cold morning air fill -your lungs. A horned tiefling with a pitch black bell and a scroll is -standing over you. Your whole body burns, but especially your hand -and a strip running from your forehead down between your eyes. - -Everything is blurry, especially your memory. Standing around you are -your adventuring companions. It feels like you just saw them moments -ago? Was there a battle? What's going on? You can't remember -anything... it's all just indistinct and gray. - -Faust and the Fugue Plane --Andrew Murrell |