The Floating Land

Where the Rodera, Orcs, Goblins and Avians once called home

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Peter Levy
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The Floating Land

Postby Peter Levy » Mon Jul 30, 2012 2:41 pm

Show me bloody anything!

**The Scrying bowl has clearly given up the ghost. Still, the Rodera (what is left of them) are safe for now. Safe-ish... Well, safe from the things on the ground. Safe-ish... So, safe from the things on the ground that cannot fly or otherwise reach them. Safe-ish... Safe as long as the canopy held. Safe-ish... Safe as long as the weather held. Safe-ish... Safe as long as the rituals held. Safe-ish...**

**Farrek pawed over the map, and took a pebble. He put a small drop of white ink on the pebble, and pressed it to the map.**

Powers of Meta magic, I call thee. The power of knowledge, or wisdom, of guidance. Into this map was placed the knowledge of the land of Velmaneth, and I bid the knowledge of our people's location bound to it.

Powers of Light magic, I call thee. The power of truth, purity, farsight. Into this map was placed the power to reveal the world, and I bid the veils of shadow over the land be lifted that we might find our way.


**The maps begins to shift slightly, taking on a dim glow. The pebble draws this power into it, and hums slightly with ritual magic. Farrek raises up the Staff of Eremethal**

Power of the Heavens I call thee. The power of wind, of rain, of the skies. To this place, the power of flight was gifted, and I bid thee flow to this stone: mark our position. Take to the skies.

**The pebble levitates an inch or two over the map. Farrek stretches a claw out to it.**

This stone will mark our position. I name this Zeppelin.

**He takes his inkwell, and carefully unscrews the cap. He dribbles the ink onto the map, soaking the paper through.**

Our world is plagued. The emptiness left in the wake of the Soul Scourge tainted the land, and life was driven out. Undeath has crept up and consumed so much of Velmaneth.
Just as this ink threatens to destroy this map, the Soulless threaten to take Velmaneth; to snatch our defeat from the hands of our victory.


**The ink totally covers the map. The once white parchment now a sodden blue-black.**

Powers of Light I call thee, the power of purity, to drive out the darkness. Let the power flow from the hearts of the living, who would see their world restored.
And our ascended friend, Quayle, if you still know me; if you still know the desire and the need of our people, all people to have their freedom back, I ask your blessing.

Let this ink within this map represent the Soulless. Powers of Light, of Freedom, of destruction, push back the darkness to reveal the position of the Quarin's forces.


**The ink begins to recede. The map becomes visible, but the darkness still covers much of it. So, so much. The brightness of Sinya Palurin stands most clearly, while the flash of the Coshwood Isle to the East can also be seen. Even the oceans are not safe. They are approaching Erathil...**


--------


**The Zeppelin. The floating bastion of the Rodera. A segment of the Coshwood Isle borne aloft by the creations of its occupants. Sails catch the wind, ballasts hang from the edges, all suspended under a vast canopy. Two miles wide, canvas stretched by the power it contains, the great canopy could block out the sun to the ground, were it not stretched so thin -light passes through it like a thin curtain.**

**The ground is all planted. Roots, peppers, grains all grow in the freshest of air, with the gentlest of sun. In the trees above the fields, the shelters -the homes- of the Rodera sit among the branches. A lake, collecting the rainwater and condensation that flows down the canopy; a small orb of green light resting at the bottom. Beside the lake, a sword. A dark, curved, toothed sword. Its bronze horned hilt glints delicately in the morning sun. Tiny filaments stretch out from its handle, leading to the great ropes of vine and hair that connect land to canvas. Thin threads can almost be seen stretching out from it to each of the one hundred people present; never tangling, slowly drawing out power.**

**They rotate their sleep. It takes a large concentration of their soul to bear such a machine aloft. The paper mill is almost complete. Soon they will be better able to plan, to design, to win back the land. Several hands examine a large earthenware bowl, a tall fractured glass vase, and a wicker ball; probing it for its life magic, it's power over death. Can it be turned into a weapon against the dead?**


---------


**Farrek returns to the map. He clutches a fist to his chest. The wound will sting for some time. He drops one of the bone beads from around his neck onto the map.**

I once traveled with a group called the Nomads. We were more than a Guild, we were friends, siblings. My reunion with Caen brings them all back to my mind. While not in my mind, Captain Gizmo and all those who sailed, who walked, who traveled as Nomads were always close to my heart. I have bound my soul beside my beating heart, and with all my soul I would see the Nomads reunited.

**He unties the necklace to remove several more beads. He tears a small page from one of his pocket books, folding it into a vaguely triangular shape.**

Gizmo once handed me a small tin boat. Powers of Meta magic I call thee to this paper. I cannot create the things that my captain can, but my magic can shift matter to my will. But I do not simply cast this Alchemy today. Today I bind this power through this paper, and to this map. I bid this folded paper take the form of the toy tin boat we dubbed 'Bishop'.
Powers of light I call thee. This boat, the Bishop, stands -well, floats- in our world as a symbol of freedom, of unity, of peace and of love. I call this power to this tin ship. Let this mark the location of the Nomad ship Bishop. May the beads I place within it tell the places where the Nomads stand, and follow them on their journeys.


**He tips the beads, save one, into the small Bishop, and places it on the map. It settles itself in the Northern Ocean near the Northwest corner of Sinya Palurin. A single bead hops out of the boat, heading East. It settles on the border of Sinya Palurin and Gweria. This must be Caen.**

Perhaps...

**He places the final bead next to this stray, holding it in place, willing it not to move.**

Let this represent Rosanki. May the power of this map, the power of the Nomads, the power of our combined will to see our friend returned flow into this bead. Show him to us. Please, let him be returned.

**Tentatively lifting his finger from the marker, he watched it wobble. It rolled across the map. He was not there. Farrek sighed. Inwardly he cursed Clandestine, they were cowards, reckless and misguided. He felt a wave of anger subside to grief once more.**

I'm sure there's better things to worry about... but still...

**Suddenly the bead jumped up, it stood firm next to that marking the Fey-Canine. Rosanki was returned!**

HA!! Caen! You did it! After a year, trapped in that place you've finally come good. Not that I ever doubted you...

Powers of Meta magic I call thee. Places to go, people to see. Take be hence from this place, that I might speak with friends. Good news must be spread. By the powers of Meta magic, I bid myself carried forth not on wings of flesh and fur, but of magic. Swift, instant wings, sure in their destination. Carry me through the sky. By my power and the power of Meta magic, I bid myself Teleport to... Two hundred yards above the Nomad's ship Bishop.


**In a flutter of meta magic, Batratman vanishes from sight.**

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Re: The Floating Land

Postby Plot Bot » Fri Aug 03, 2012 9:42 pm

Can it be turned into a weapon against the dead?

The Rodera had been experimenting with the ball, bowl and vase for some time. Exposing it to various magics and they finally had an answer.

Yes.

They had opened a tiny ritual circle around the vase that forced its power to flow out. They had overlapped a second ritual circle containing the bowl and forced it to accept the power from the vase and then forced the power to flow out...into another ritual circle which contained the ball and overlapped both of the other circles. The power flowed from vase to bowl to ball to vase to bowl to...oh dear.

Magic was being forced from bowl into both vase and ball...from vase to both ball and bowl...from ball to both bowl and vase...

The three circles began to flash ominously...

At least they knew they could make it into a weapon...Farrek would be pleased...they should probably contact him...yes. Probably immediately...

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Peter Levy
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Re: The Floating Land

Postby Peter Levy » Sun Aug 05, 2012 12:43 pm

**A sodden, distressed Farrek appeared between the Councillors who called him. They looked confused, but pleased with themselves...**

**Farrek opens his mouth to say hello before spotting the flashing circles. He lunges for the map, points to three spots in Noore I'Meles within the Ink of the Soulless.**

Give me those, quickly. Everyone retreat as far from these as you can!

**He pauses for the briefest moment to consider strategy, a pulse of meta magic crossing through his mind.**

**He grabs the three ritual foci, begins to flap his damp wings, and concentrates on these three locations, meta magic building.**


-------


**He appears around forty feet above the unsuspecting undead horde, falling slightly, dropping the ball. Before falling, he unleashes another wave of power**

**Appearing some way from the first site, he, this time is on the ground. Catching the undead unaware, he is met with only a couple of blows, deflected by the Light magic about him. He places the Vase on the ground, and Forces the Undead back with a wave of Repulsive magic. He vanishes once more.**

**Again he lands amidst the undead, he places the Bowl on the earth, snap casts a mass repulsion spell, and then teleports away.**


----


**The Rodera Council leader reappears on the Zeppelin. Everyone looks confused.**

Check the map. In about four seconds you should see a large chunk of the Soulless vanish and recede...

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Re: The Floating Land

Postby Plot Bot » Sun Aug 05, 2012 9:21 pm

There is a strange rippling of the ink and three small blank circles of map appear in the sea of black, each representing an area perhaps two miles across.

The councilors look at each other slightly sheepishly, the unspoken words passing between them it was fortunate Farrek was here.

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Peter Levy
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Re: The Floating Land

Postby Peter Levy » Sun Aug 05, 2012 10:09 pm

**A long breath out, avoiding as much eye contact as possible, Farrek makes his way to his treetop shelter...**

I'm going to bed. We'll talk about what just happened in the morning.

**He dripped his way up the ladder and into his little piece of peace.**

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Peter Levy
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Re: The Floating Land

Postby Peter Levy » Thu Aug 09, 2012 1:29 pm

Right then.

**Clearly a lot chirpier, and drier, Farrek had adopted some kind of leader mentality. It was slightly alien to him...**

That went well, I thought... Can we make more? Someone must have kept some records, notes? You certainly work quickly, I was amazed. I shouldn't be, I suppose, there's an immense pool of talent here. Even with so few faces. It's probably time to get a bit more order, do you agree?

The Council will be by the reservoir this afternoon. Come and see us if you are particularly skilled, knowledgeable or powerful in any of the following:

-Life magic
-Rituals
-Undead
-Crafting/invention
-Military strategy
-Agriculture
-Anything else that's useful, really...

Particularly interested in the Life-Ritual-Artefacty Undead-killing dooberies. I think we should have more of those...


**He paced around, the group he was addressing seemed at least partially interested. The Council would do fine without him...**

Before activating anything that might... Y'know, TOTALLY ANNIHILATE us, make sure you've got some kind of contingency prepared...

I'm going to go back to what I was doing before, if that's ok with everyone... I'll be on the sea, somewhere just off the North coast of Sinya Palurin, near Ingolé. Well, you'll know where I am, it's the little tin boat on the map. Mother Mollal and Lorax One-Eye will be heading up the Council's plans... Priestess of Firin, Ritualist, makes sense, no?

Good, that's sorted then.

Powers of meta magic I call thee. There are two places in this world that I would dare to call home. Both move, both are temporary. Forge a path between these roaming shelters. I call the power of the elements of fire, air, earth and water; the powers of light and of shadow, and the meta magic that binds them. Take me hence from this place, along this path, from the Roderan isle-in-the-sky named Zeppelin to the mad, bizarre and truly wonderful jewel in the sea: the Nomad ship named Bishop.


**Proper casting is much more fun than rushing it and using your soul... Farrek vanishes.**

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Huw
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Re: The Floating Land

Postby Huw » Sun Aug 12, 2012 2:44 pm

A day later, in his workshop, Lorax One-Eye has a leg. A metal leg. He'd been working with orcs - reasonable, rational orcs! Who would've though it possible! - and they'd helped him replicate this much of a body, in something more durable - but then they'd left. Stolen so many constructs and gone. Should have expected that.

A gossamer-thin web of air magic, paired with earth, lifted the foot, rotated the ankle. Bent the knee. With another leg, he might begin to make it walk. So only a few more months - provided he got another metalworker who was as good...

He sighed, and left the workshop. He walked to a railing on the edge of the island, and looked down, through the clouds, at Velmaneth below. Somewhere down there were the undead. Armies, hordes of them. He scratched his nose.

Easy for them. Find a spirit, bind it into a body. Make it into a slave, or give it will, intelligence. You just had to not care about subjugating a defenceless soul. Lorax did, however. Once the body was empty, it was just raw material, but souls...souls were sacrosanct. So no necromancy.

He shook his head, rubbed his ears. There WAS another thaumaturgist out there - insane, apparently; dangerously mad - but he'd managed to survive the undead for how long now? He'd even managed to override the control rods on Lorax's constructs, effectively steal them and make them his own. One of Lorax's students had even left to join him...

Lorax drummed claws on the railing. So this person had constructs, and was surrounded by undead - did he fight the Soulless? Presumably. But even metal and stone would break eventually. He'd need to keep making more, or the undead would overwhelm him. Unless...

If you could override someone else's constructs and take them over, could you override the-

Lorax leapt up from the railing and ran back into his workshop. With two hands he pushed the metal leg off the table, where it fell to the floor with a CLANG. He grabbed some paper and a pencil.



Just an idea. So far. But maybe Farrek would be interested...
Ancálimon y Festaer y Helyanwe, Alchemist
Azael Bannon, Telefret High Mage
Fox, Shaman of the Tsimshian

It's only a game.

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Huw
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Re: The Floating Land

Postby Huw » Mon Aug 20, 2012 12:03 pm

After a couple of days, Lorax One-Eye emerges from his workshop. He looks at the three constructs that have broken while he was busy, patiently and forlornly waiting to be repaired in a line outside the door.

Other duties pressed in...but he'd made progress.

He goes back into his study and finds a bit of paper.

Farrek,

Have found a potential weapon against the undead. Need to talk to you about authorizing an expedition. Lots of potential. Find me in my workshop.

Lorax


He finds a passing construct, waves a control rod at it.

"You. Take this letter," He folds the note and puts it in the construct's hand, "and put it on Council-member Farrek Char's desk. Then return to your previous duties."

The construct walks off. Lorax turns to the constructs outside the door. Well, he did have a lot of sheet metal left over - maybe he could enhance these ones so that they needed repairing less. That work with the Orcs didn't need to be wasted...
Ancálimon y Festaer y Helyanwe, Alchemist
Azael Bannon, Telefret High Mage
Fox, Shaman of the Tsimshian

It's only a game.


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