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

[L'ennui]

Hurriedly, Urash drops his bag, reaches inside and produces a scroll case. Opening it, the Acadian takes one of two rolled parchments and starts reciting the formula inscribed thereupon.

Spoiler

Reading a scroll of "Passage to Annwn", fingers crossed.

 

[nikolokolus]

Urash spends the next minute hurriedly reading over the parchment and the ancient runes he inscribed upon it. He then feels confident enough to utter them and carefully, but forcefully shouts over the roaring falls. To his and everyone's great surprise the air at the edge of the outcropping swirls and bends in a vortex that spins faster and faster until you find yourself looking through a circular "window" suspended in the air. The image revealed through the portal is filmy and indistinct; like looking through a wet linen hung up to dry -- vague shades of brown and green and blue.

To Urash's dismay the parchment crumbles to dust in his hands and is carried away by the wind generated from the roaring river to his left.

 

[Grimgravy]

"Where is that supposed to go?"

 

[ERYFKRAD]

"Where is that supposed to go?"

Spoiler

AWAY

 

[L'ennui]

"Anywhere but here is fine by me!" Urash looks one last time at Borric, regretfully waves goodbye and tries to enter the window created by the scroll.

 

[nikolokolus]

Urash disappears; gone without a trace.

 

[Grimgravy]

Spoiler

Is the portal still open?

 

[Siveon]

Spoiler

you know you could've just shoved borric through it

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

"Ogres, what's it going to be? The portal to wherever that goes, jumping, or fighting?"

 

[Grimgravy]

Spoiler

Passage to Annwn? Maybe we'll get to see our fallen comrades again.

"Hopefully Urash knows what he's doing. Further into the unknown!"

Rhenmyr follows Urash.

 

[nikolokolus]

The ogres grunt and one replies to Amon, "I doubt we'll see any mercy from that one with the hammer, and we aren't made for swimming, nor do I relish jumping into Limbo. We follow."

The ogre shoulders Man aside and plunges heading through the gate, his three fellows follow after, as does Mab.

Solon scratches his chin and looks ruefully over his shoulder, "Certain death here or God's know what awaits? Nothing else for it I suppose." He plunges head-long through the gate leaving Amon alone on the dismal precipice.

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

"Anywhere is better than here."

Amon jumps through the portal.

 

[nikolokolus]

One by one you leap through the translucent portal. A sickening sensation assaults every nerve in your bodies as you feel like you are being turned inside-out, and your eyes feel like they are being burned out with hot pokers. Your vision fails and all you perceive for what feels like untold eons (or maybe the blink of an eye?) is a featureless field of white. You are on your knees, you groping on the ground and can feel cool, lush turf between your fingers. Each of you can hear groaning and moaning all around you and you realize that it's coming from you as well.

The blindness begins to pass and vague tall shapes seem to loom all around you, giants? the ogres? What? Gradually your vision clears and the "giants" reveal themselves to be several spires of granite rising three to five meters overhead in around a central pillar of stone with a notch cut into it that lets the bright orange sunlight pass through it. Each of you looks around and notes all of your comrades, collecting their wits and staggering about.

Peculiarly there are seven female forms in a heap at the base of the central dolmen, they look like rude sculptures of ice and snow, with crude sticks held in place by frozen limbs, and planks of birch-bark in crude approximations of shields held in their rapidly melting arms. Also at the base of the stone are 4 large heaps of boulders that are cracked and crumbling. When you look at them carefully, there appear to be vague features that could be bulbous noses, hands, curled lips, in much the same way that a trick of light can make you see a face or an animal in a passing cloud. Prodding the rocks reveals them to be only loosely held together with bits of root and bracken. More shockingly you see a pair of feet sticking out of a barrel kicking frantically. Keltic curses and promises of violence fill the air as the red-headed bard Marcán pushes himself free and coughs up a lung full of water. You also see Borric the savage Kurgan bleary-eyed and holding his head in his hands.

Unbelievably, it seems as if you have escaped the Weird of the Otherworld and are now standing a top a gentle knoll, topped with a henge. The sun shines brightly overhead, there is a winding river flowing near the base of the hill and the smell of the sea fills your nostrils. Where you are isn't immediately clear, but you all seem safe.

 

[nikolokolus]

Attention ERYFKRAD . . .

 

[Siveon]

Spoiler

So, how much does Marcán remember? If that's Marcán, Marcán. Same thing goes for Borric.

 

[nikolokolus]

Spoiler

So, how much does Marcán remember? If that's Marcán, Marcán. Same thing goes for Borric.

Spoiler

All of it. Borric remembers being madly in love and is now very morose and inconsolable.

 

[ERYFKRAD]

Attention ERYFKRAD . . .

Spoiler

quid?

 

[Siveon]

Marcán curses a little bit more, and mumbles, coughing. "A bloody fish. A bloody fish!" Marcán gets up, and hugs his human self. Then everyone else, overjoyed. "We survived! We're out of the damnable world! We're back, we're back where things make sense! We're back to continue our quests, we're back to... somewhere! I don't care! I have hands!"

 

[Llywelyn ap Gruffydd]

"We are all safe? I think I am all here?"

Amon pats himself down.

"Yep, all here. It looks like the Ogres and barge women were not so lucky."

 

[ERYFKRAD]

Borric groans in an effort to clear his head. "I need a drink. Or several."

 

[Grimgravy]

Rhenmyr shakes his head to clear it.
"Aye a drink would do. Good to have you both back to normal. Let's figure out where we are so we know which way to go to find a tavern."

 

[Siveon]

"Well we'd need to ask the one who got us here wouldn't we?"

 

[nikolokolus]

Urash has no idea where you are. Marcan can make a world lore check however.

 

[Siveon]

World Lore (70) vs [1d100] = 4

 

[L'ennui]

Urash looks around, brushes some grass from his cloack and answers: "I have no idea where we are. It seems our situation is markedly improved, however. Let us pray this impression holds."