Mission: Survive… and find a way home.
- Grom the Wretched, and his faithful wolf Grim
- Murg the Insane
The party is on the “boat”, traversing throughout the plane. The party sees other “islands” in the distance, some below, some above – all are passed by…
… with no sun, no moon, no stars the party has no idea how much time passes. Finally the “boat” comes to rest upon a floating island, shrouded in a fog…
The voice of the Servant is heard: “Head to the center,” the Servant says, “there you will find the gate. I do not know what lies before you, I am not privy to those thoughts or dreams…” The party disembarks into a swirling mist, as soon as they touch the ground, the landscape changes… the party no longer stands upon the “boat” – in fact the entire planar ocean is gone, they stand upon a barren land, hard red ground and a deep purple sky. All four horizons are the same – flat and featureless. There is no sun, no clouds, no moon, no stars, no wind. Lifeless. Barren. Besides the party, there appears to be no life.
There is a howling wind, that blows simultaneous from all directions, this land is a land of madness…
The party traveled for an indeterminate amount of time – and in a flash, two giant status… the size of titans were suddenly in front of them. Two statues frozen in battle, one an orc, the other dressed in only what could be described is Mulhorandi. Just as fast, they were gone…
Night and day happened like the flick of a switch – there was either light or night. In the darkness, fires did not illuminate the darkness.
The instant days and nights went by – each day bring a new “vision”: Bones… Battles… Large “tentacles” on the horizon that could only be seen when not looked at directly, until one day break saw them at the base of a giant pyramid, topped by a golden throne.
All around the party, an echo of an image of an army all bowed before the throne… and a giant ghost on a man in black and bronze strode towards them and sat in the throne… he thrust out his hand, and the army was blown away. The pyramid crumbles, a crater where it once stood, and in the basin, a pool…
The party crests a hill, and down below is a lake. Waves flow through the lake, in directions that do not seem possible, a swirling cacophony.
Voices are now heard…
The Lake of Voices
DC 18 Will, or run towards the lake and dive in…
Large Undead (Incorporeal, Psionic)
Hit Dice: 11d12 (71 hp)
Armor Class: 14), touch 14, flat-footed 11
Attack: 4 incorporeal touches +7 melee (2d6)
Special Attacks: Psi-like abilities
Special Qualities: Incorporeal traits, undead traits, unnatural aura, vulnerability to sunlight
Saves: Fort +3, Ref +6, Will +9
Abilities: Str —, Dex 16, Con —, Int 14, Wis 14, Cha 15
50% chance to ignore any damage from a corporeal source, except for force effects or attacks made with ghost touch weapons.
Its attacks ignore natural armor, armor, and shields.
At will— concussion blast (two targets, 3d6) ego whip (2d4 Cha damage, DC16 Will for half. Failed save dazed for one round)
3/day- mind thrust (7d10, DC Will to negate 16*)
1/day— psychic crush (DC 13 Will, fail HP goes to -1. pass damage 3d6).
The save DC are Charisma-based.
Upon defeating the Caller, the waters calm, and in the center of the lake, a little patch of land (that was covered by the chaotic waves) is now visible.
The lake is shallow… or the water very dense, because the party is able to walk to the center without the water going above their waists. When they get to the island, there is a a stone circle, about 5’ in diameter. In the center of the stone, is a hole about 10" diameter, and unknown depth…
Grom’s new arm is the key. Once put in the hole, a lever can be grabbed and pulled, the circle will swivel open, revealing a ladder leading down…
The party hears the music of flutes playing, as they go further down, the music get louder, and more chaotic… and then stops.
This place smells of rotten meat… garbage… filth… the passage way “east” looks as if it were gnawed, rather than mined.
The party fought its way through the entire warren, every size rat was encountered, including the dreaded mother. After hard fought battles, the party was able to muster up the power to kill the mother.
At the bottom of the warren, the party encountered… a “thing” playing a flute… a sort of chaotic mimic that kept switching forms, and attacked with both sound and pseudo-pods…
3 10’ reach
All saves +7
Special Attack: awful flutist, 2d6 no save
Special Defense: fast healing 2,
After the “thing” is killed, the body melts away, leaving only the flute behind. In the rear of of the room, a statue with many arms arrayed as if it were playing an instrument…
In center of the room, a statute of a “something” with appendages extended, as if it were meant to hold something…
The players place the flute in the statute, a loud note plays, and the walls and room disintegrate, and the rest of the “world” begins to melt away…
… in a clearing. Where ever they were, it was dark, overcast, perhaps night. They made camp, and Murg, long quiet and somewhat maddened, spoke: the connection with his God was strong, they were home…
As their senses adjusted, they smelled death. Following the scent just a few short moments, a wisp of smoke was seen in the sky, they headed towards it, and soon they came across a giant mollusk shell – a large hole in it’s side. Dead bodies strewn about – bodies of Nitzer’s guardsmen.
They entered the shell, to find that inside was their “home”. After searching, and finding no survivors, they came upon Nitzer’s office – and within, the body of Nitzer. He had a hole the size of a grapefruit in the back of his head and nothing inside it. The Black Orb in Grom’s backpack rolled out of it’s own accord, became amorphous and went into the empty skull of Nitzer. The body lurched, the head lifted, the eyes popped out (to be filled by the Blackness), the mouth open and a piercing scream… a scream that shattered the walls of reality… of space and time…
… A great battle, three beings (amongst a larger host) engaged with a great evil, one’s greatsword piercing into the skull of the Elephant God. Another’s maul crushing through the torso of the Man Who Speaks with His Hands. And another’s magic blasting the Great Indescribable (a swirling Chaos, manifesting as many shapes, colors… thoughts and sounds… imaginable. Swirling in the center, and man in robes… or an amber armored man… or something else, laughs, screams, cries). The General of the host commanding an assault, that all of host concentrate of the Indescribable. The fight went on, more and more dying (one handed Tyr swallowed by yellow… the Flame incarnate Kossuth turned into a forgotten memory… Shar and Selune melded in a single cacophony of screams), until only the General, Arin, Hector, and Manus remained.
“We have failed again, my brothers. This realm falls to (undecipherable), as others countless times before. You must go, you must remember, you must not fail again… one of you stand with me, the other two retreat to the past (or did he say future). Go. Now!” A portal opens… two retreat through the collapsing portal, while the one reamining and the General occupy the action the Indescribable. The Indescribable becomes an infinite tower of pulsating limbs… becomes a single man… yellow cloth, blacked tentacles envelope the General. In his final act, through agonizing screams, he rips the head of offlutes the one hand who remained… and throws it through the portal, just as it collapses.
… three now stands in Nitzer’s office – their true selves revealed – the desiccated bodies of Grom, Murg, Smizzmar, and al-Mayar lie on the floor… a dead wolf. Nitzer’s withered body (sans face) upon the desk. A layer of dust… how long has it been?
The party moved, taking anything of value they could – books, gems, jars of liquid. All the while the faint whisper of a flute
Three, alone in a forest, not knowing where they are… and tasting freedom for the first time since their awakened memories….
This marks the transition from 3.5/Pathfinder to 5e.