ending

acl.cool/site/writings/umbral2.dj

@@ -14,7 +14,7 @@ Our heroes must decide if they will brave its gentle eddies in the longboat, an
 
 Within an hour, strange and oppressive darkness encroaches overhead, cavern ceilings closing in to mere feet above the figurehead that juts at the longboat's prow. Gottlob takes notice, and with intent gaze recognizes the qualities of magic on the stones above. He warns his companions, but even as he speaks, an inky glob hangs in covert silence, biding its time for the perfect moment to strike. It levers itself from the shadows to plummet, with startling precision, straight onto Warren's head--- a damp slap and the gurgle of the cleric's muffled curses are an unmistakable alarm. Springing into action, the party slings spells and swings swords as a hail of mollusks, each in an arcane shroud, issues from the unplumbed gloom above. They defeat their attackers with relative ease. The incident leaves them on-edge but unscathed, and the boat glides smoothly onward.
 
-Farther on, the Lethe becomes a thrash of foam and spray all about them as an interval of whitewater threatens to pitch our heroes overboard. They spare themselves the Lethe's obliterating embrace only by the coordinated exercise of sheer athletic prowess, and their rowing is otherwise uneventful until Carmal, eyes wandering about the shore and its skirted trials, notices a misshapen head that rests tenuously above lapping wavelets of the bankside shallows. He calls to halt the boat, piloting it toward his discovery and holding fast with oars dug into silt when the riverbed grows near enough to reach. Unwilling to risk himself in the ankle deep waters that lie between the boat and the unfortunate creature he means to approach, Carmal reaches for the power of his magic item[^i-forget], vanishing in a swirl of silver mist to reappear by the head on the river's bank. From so close, the creature's nature is plain--- the party has stumbled upon a _mindflayer_, dead or near death.
+Farther on, the Lethe becomes a thrash of foam and spray all about them as an interval of whitewater threatens to pitch our heroes overboard. They spare themselves the Lethe's obliterating embrace only by the coordinated exercise of sheer athletic prowess, and their rowing is otherwise uneventful until Carmal, eyes wandering about the shore and its skirted trials, notices a misshapen head that rests tenuously above lapping wavelets of the bankside shallows. He calls to halt the boat, piloting it toward his discovery and holding fast with oars dug into silt when the riverbed grows near enough to reach. Unwilling to risk himself in the ankle deep waters that lie between the boat and the unfortunate creature he means to approach, Carmal reaches for the power of his magic cape, vanishing in a swirl of silver mist to reappear by the head on the river's bank. From so close, the creature's nature is plain--- the party has stumbled upon a _mindflayer_, dead or near death.
 
 Almuth and Gottlob are immediately on edge. Each knows the horrors that an illithid unchecked will visit upon those so weak or careless as to permit it purchase; the cleric's study and paladin's experience have cemented this in their minds. Almuth, though, is hopeful; the river has no doubt wiped the usual illithid convictions from this woebegone monstrosity's head, and a tame, pliant mindflayer--- even one temporarily so--- represents an intriguing breadth of possibility. He confers with Eldath, aiming to determine whether the creature knows about the Witness' activities and if it would be willing to aid the party's cause. An answer comes only to the former: affirmative! He and Gottlob make their way over, braving the Lethe to their ankles for lack of a teleportation spell, and as Almuth, acting on instinctual concern, tries to jostle the mindflayer awake, such close observation confirms a bare shred of vitality to which it clings desperately in witless torpor. Gottlob makes as if to intervene, but the cleric, taking only a moment to come to his senses, steps away before the satyr has a chance. Party members convene to consider their situation.
 
@@ -33,15 +33,18 @@ A quickly revised strategy, a frank exchange of views; our heroes will storm the
 
 As they rush in and downward, the object of their mission meets them halfway, an illithid handler at its side. Almuth and Gottlob use magic[^bless-bond] to quicken the party's reflexes and strengthen their wills and their bodies. Carmal plays an ace up his sleeve, casting "polymorph" to replace the party's harengon with the terrible, ancient form of a Tyrannosaurus rex. The Witness rears its eyestalks, loosing disabling bolts toward party members, but to little effect; the party's buffs are too great to overcome, as even rays that find their targets are shrugged off. The mindflayer attacks, manoeuvering to place itself along a line along which Carmal, Almuth, and the tyrant lizard Warren also stand. It projects a mind-blast at full power, dealing some much-needed damage for the illithid contingent, but that is to be its final cry in the face of eternal silence--- Warren, cumulative meters of teeth glinting in the pallid light of the cave-structure, is first to attack the monstrosity. He takes it at once in his jaws and, lifting it from the earth without a hint of struggle, crushes the creature utterly. Black blood pours from the dinosaurs mouth as though he bit an oil-filled balloon, rather than a living thing. Down the gullet goes the mindflayer.
 
-With the younger illithid destroyed and the elder brain yet forty yards in, Gottlob calls an idea to his companions. The paladin channels divine power to abjure the extraplanar orb, his one remaining motile foe. Imperious force seizes the aberration; it can do nothing but flee and hide and flee from its attackers. The party rushes around and past the beholder--- the arrogance of its kind abandoned in this moment--- to make for its master in the rear. Drawing upon it, a brief slew of spells and bladed strikes fell the already half-dead pinnacle of the illithid race where it bobs, enervated and helpless against the onslaught, in its pool of brine. Carmal's scorching rays do the deed, a barrage of fiery bolts that lance the brain about its periphery--- a visage like the sun.
+With the younger illithid destroyed and the elder brain yet forty yards in, Gottlob calls an idea to his companions. The paladin channels divine power to abjure the extraplanar orb, the their one remaining motile foe. Imperious force seizes the aberration; it can do nothing but flee and hide and flee from its attackers. Gottlob and Almuth leap atop Warren's back as the party rushes around and past the beholder--- the arrogance of its kind abandoned in this moment--- to make for its master in the rear. Drawing upon it, a brief slew of spells and bladed strikes fell the already half-dead pinnacle of the illithid race where it bobs, enervated and helpless against the onslaught, in its pool of brine. Carmal's scorching rays do the deed, a barrage of fiery bolts that lance the brain about its periphery--- a visage like the sun.
 
-Realization of their plan is practically within reach! Almuth sends a message to Tasha, apprising her of events on the ground and requesting, humbly, a flumph for the attachment of their listless prisoner's loyalties. Tasha's words are subtly evasive, but she promises the provision of a so-called "mother flumph", which it can only be assumed is a larger and more powerful example of the species. Almuth mistrusts her, but after conferring with his goddess--- and with his party mates--- decides the best course is, for now, along the path Tasha describes.
+Realization of their plan is practically within reach! Almuth sends a message to Tasha, apprising her of events on the ground and requesting, humbly, a flumph for the attachment of their listless prisoner's loyalties. Tasha's words are subtle and evasive, but she promises the provision of a so-called "mother flumph", which it can only be assumed is a larger and more powerful example of the species. Almuth mistrusts her, but after conferring with his goddess--- and with his party mates--- decides the best course is, for now, along the path Tasha describes.
 
 {.thematic}
 ***
 
-*This summary is incomplete. Details of the resolution will be known 13, July.*
+As our heroes climb toward the surface, hours lie head-to-tail behind them, and victory's jubilation keeps narrowly at bay the swells of weariness that thunder at its levees with each planted step. When they emerge, dusk is turning to night; the canopy above casts shadows that swallow the eye even more completely than the darkness shed just moments ago. Ground dwelling creatures and birds of the night--- clearly heard, but never seen--- seem to hail the party's victory with manifold cheers, croaks and whistles and songs from the crowns of the trees. Arriving back at Mithril Hall, dwarves guide the party to guest chambers in "the Maze"--- one of few parts of this city wherein outsiders are permitted--- and the adventurers are quick to find sleep.
 
+Tasha appears in their dreams tonight, as she did before in Waterdeep, yanking them from their bodies as they slumber to a floating island of the Astral plane. There, she relays a message of gratitude from the Witness and shows the adventurers the fruits of their labor. A flumph hangs in the violet mists behind the witch, shining like a bundle of stars, its flat, round body a match in size for the whole parcel of ground. Its tentacles wave almost playfully, like a cavorting pack of Leviathan's spawn that try to shelter under the skirts of the massive, frilly oval at the creature's middle. _This_ must be a "mother flumph"; how it dwarfs its children. Tasha conveys her own gratitude in the form of a gift: a psychic link[^link] is forged between those who fought today.
+
+The following morning, the party returns to Waterdeep to meet Lord Silverhand again in her war-chamber. She is pleased with their mission's results--- convinced by Tasha of the Witness' docility--- and proffers the promised reward: 600 gold to a person! To help the party prepare for the next adventure, she furthermore provides healing potions--- five of the typical brew and three of premium manufacture--- as the party splits into Waterdeep to do some much needed shopping, and perhaps to blow off some steam, as they look forward to their project's next leg just a day and night at hand.
 
 {% What's the deal with the teleporter gate and the tower? We do not know... %}
 
@@ -55,4 +58,4 @@ Realization of their plan is practically within reach! Almuth sends a message to
 
 [^bless-bond]: Gottlob casts "bless" and Almuth uses his "emboldening bond".
 
-[^i-forget]: I forget what this is, specifically. Boots, perhaps?
+[^link]: Once per day, one of Warren, Carmal, Gottlob, or Almuth can cast a spell that allows six hours of telepathic communication between the four.