save

acl.cool/site/draft/umbral4.dj

@@ -18,7 +18,7 @@ Humanoids--- dead-eyed humans, mostly--- labor in fields of blue-topped grain. G
 
 Rendering herself invisible with a spell, the llama swoops closer to investigate, but cold fingers of dread grip her heart at what she discovers. The wizard's own body, her _human_ body, threshes indigo grass at the edge of the nearest plot; the gaze of a scythe-wielding slave master fixes... her? it..? in cruel contempt from a flanking position. The intensity of labour demanded by the redcaps shows itself in her body's condition. Thin, trembling arms beat the grain at increasing intervals, just today's hours of hard labor taking their toll of strength. Her dark hair sports bits of straw and chaff among its tangles; her olive skin is caked with dust and sweat. Whether the glassy, unblinking eyes are a product of exhaustion or of whatever magic moves her presumedly uninhabited form, Louisa only wishes she could tell.
 
-The wizard pauses here, for a moment, to consider her options. She knows that all the desperate longing in the world cannot overcome the tactical reality of the situation on the farmland below--- there is no way she can rescue her human form right now--- but her nature won't allow her to leave without some sort of consolation. Taking a diving pass, the llama spits upon the redcap slave master that pokes mirthfully at her vacated flesh, but as she does, a twisted and ancient old woman appears, black cloth obscuring all but her hands and the dome of here spiral-horned head[^hag]. Locking eyes with Louisa, the creature strikes with a hammer of pure arcane force that sends her flying back down the mountainside, but as she plummets, a single thought fights its way through shock and pain to the forefront of her mind: that twisted hag is the very same figure that slunk away on the night that she was trapped in her present form, cursed to wander Faerûn a llama.
+The wizard pauses here, for a moment, to consider her options. She knows that all the desperate longing in the world cannot overcome the tactical reality of the situation on the farmland below--- there is no way she can rescue her human form right now--- but her nature won't allow her to leave without some sort of consolation. Taking a diving pass, the llama spits upon the redcap slave master that pokes mirthfully at her vacated flesh, but as she does, a twisted and ancient three-armed woman appears, black cloth obscuring all but her hands and the dome of here spiral-horned head[^hag]. Locking eyes with Louisa, the creature strikes with a hammer of pure arcane force that sends her flying back down the mountainside, but as she plummets, a single thought fights its way through shock and pain to the forefront of her mind: that twisted hag is the very same figure that slunk away on the night that she was trapped in her present form, cursed to wander Faerûn a llama.
 
 Back on the ground, the rest of the party are alarmed to see their friend come punching through the cloud layer more quickly than any flight could allow, so quick they cannot possibly react. They're subsequently relieved, if surprised, to see her plow into a meters-high bank of frosting from which she emerges apparently unharmed. Visibly shaken, but steady of foot and voice, she explains to her party the unnatural vista that lies above the clouds. The prospect of recovering Louisa's human form emboldens the party, and though Almuth detects some traps on the path ahead, they forge onward, upward, headed to the peak of Brog Burgest and--- with luck--- to the rescue of their companion's original form.
 
@@ -28,18 +28,29 @@ The party has no wish to engage, and Clementine's "pass without trace" should be
 
 Coming finally to the oddly-flat top of the Brog Burgest, party members are struck by expanses of smooth, solid cloud that extend in layers both above and below as though to sandwich the peak between two massive sheet cakes. The path gives on to an open-air enclosure in which torches of purple and orange burn atop plinth-raised statues of dragons in various states of noble contortion. In the opposite corner to the party's ingress, a beholder--- a conventional beholder, apparently--- erects yet another statue and torch, its back to the middle of the room. 
 
-Party members are wary to attack, and anyway hope to lure the creature into altruism, so after Almuth checks the its alignment--- Lawful _Neutral_; now there's a boon--- he announces their presence. At once, the beholder is all anger and anxiousness. If the interlopers don't leave _right now_, he says, they will surely die! He wishes them no particular harm, but no particular safety either, and if they fail to heed his warning, he shan't feel the slightest remorse except that their presence should interfere with his plans, and so, in any case, so as not to spoil to fruits of his meticulous labors for the pleasure of his good friend Themberchaud[^dragon], but just as much so as not to die in fits of horrible, flame-wrought screams, they _must_ leave at _this very instant!_
+Party members are wary to attack, and anyway hope to carry out Tasha's mission, so after Almuth checks the its alignment--- Lawful _Neutral_; now there's a boon--- he announces their presence. At once, the beholder is all anger and anxiousness. If the interlopers don't leave _right now_, he says, they will surely die! He wishes them no particular harm, but no particular safety either, and if they fail to heed his warning, he shan't feel the slightest remorse except that their presence should interfere with his plans, and so, in any case, so as not to spoil to fruits of his meticulous labors for the pleasure of his good friend Themberchaud[^dragon], to cause his chum wicked indigestion, but just as much so as not to die in fits of horrible, flame-wreathed screams, they _must_ leave at _this very instant!_
 
-Alas, the heroes are too slow, and _too slow_ to-boot, to escape what follows. Before the blustering beholder can be convinced to make his motivations clear, a great rush approaches from above. The hole its source punches in the cloud layer puts that of Louisa's fall to shame; a mature red dragon alights at the far end of the summit-plateau in a solitary column of Sun, engendering instant panic. Alas, there is nowhere to run on the peak of a mountain from a fully-grown dragon--- but the adventurers need not fear! As Almuth reaches out to his Goddess in a last ditch, hail-mary effort to save his party, his Goddess reaches back. {% Some visual here with Almuth interacting with Eldath would be pretty sick. %} Hearing the cleric's words, she plies her power to a subtle adjustment deep within Themberchaud's psyche, a faint push in a new direction, a slight reshaping of how he weighs investment risks. 
+Alas, the heroes are too slow to escape what follows. Before the blustering beholder can be convinced to make his motivations clear, a great rush approaches from above. The hole its source punches in the cloud layer puts that of Louisa's fall to shame; an adult red dragon alights at the far end of the summit-plateau in a solitary column of Sun, engendering instant panic. There is nowhere to run on the peak of a mountain from a fully-grown dragon--- but the adventurers need not fear! As Almuth reaches out to his Goddess in a last ditch, hail-mary effort to save his party, his Goddess reaches back. {% Some visual here with Almuth interacting with Eldath would be pretty sick. %} Hearing the cleric's words[^divine], she plies her power to a subtle adjustment deep within Themberchaud's psyche, a faint push in a new direction, a slight reshaping of how he weighs investment risks, and a sigh of divine peacefulness washes over the monstrous creature.
+
+As Themberchaud and Cogyth--- so the dragon addresses the party's quarry--- get to talking, all becomes clear. The "cake pile" is just a cake, baked by Cogyth for the occasion of his close friend's birthday! The purple and orange torches that paint the peak in lurid dichrome flickers are just candles! The strange fact of the party's continued survival before a plainly very hungry red dragon is just down to Eldath having put him on a strict no-people diet, _per_ Almuth's desperate request! The dragon asks Cogyth to let the party leave in peace, and the beholder exclaims in wonderment.
+
+> Themberchaud has finally respected my wishes about... his _health!?_
+
+Assured for the moment of their security, but acutely aware of their need to depart before the dragon gets to devouring the cake underfoot, the party question their orbic interlocutor. As Carmal explains the chaos brought about in the surrounding country by Cogyth's festivities, conversation turns to the vanished villagers and to the farmland Louisa saw, now nowhere to be found. By way of answer, the beholder calls out a name, "Cheshira", and the same three-armed hag from the fields appears at his side. Party members glean the situation in snippets of heated conversation between the fiend and the aberration.
+
+Cogyth employed Cheshira as security, to prevent interference by townsfolk with his celebratory preparations, but, in attracting an adventuring party to his abode, the hag has gone too far. Were their business not concluded, she would surely be fired, but as it is, she should take her things and get out of Cogyth's sight. The beholder's anger suggests he was unaware of the people going missing in the area, and his conduct tells the party they needn't worry about him repeating the phenomenon; willfully sowing chaos in the northern lands would run counter to his lawful nature.
+
+Though some questions still burn on party member's tongues, it is not long before the dragon's desire to eat cake overcomes his enjoyment of companionable conversation and he leaps up to shovel untold quantities of sponge down his smoking gullet. Not even Themberchaud could possibly consume the whole of Brog Burgest, but our heroes aren't ones to stick around in the face of what may well be certain obliteration--- party members split as best they can. Louisa takes to the air with Gottlob in tow. Clementine, polymorphed into an ancient winged beast by Carmal, carries the rest of the party cloudward. Cheshira, for her part, makes haste down the mountainside, hoping to escape before the party notices her absence.
+
+She has no such luck. Adventurers so reputed, so accomplished as these, would never let a night hag escape unmolested; certainly not a night hag that cursed one of their number and holds a score of people in glassy-eyed servitude. Dropping from the air onto the path surrounding the twisted fiend, party members cut off Cheshira's escape on all sides and Almuth encases her in a resilient sphere before she can so much as object. With flight denied to her, she turns to a hag's most trusted and potent weapon: talk, deception, her corrupting tongue. Addressing Louisa directly, Cheshira spins a tale in which her curse was a boon, an impetus to struggle and improve that pushed the wizard to far greater heights than ever she could have achieved on her own, in that school of small-minded hacks she used to attend.
+
+The llama is unconvinced; a wizard knows better than to fall for a hag's tricks. Cornered, and as Almuth's spell expires, Cheshira turns to her last resort: battle. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
-
-Not ones to stick around in the face of certain obliteration, the party members split as best they know how. Louisa takes to the air with Gottlob in tow. Clementine, polymorphed into an ancient winged beast by Carmal, carries the rest of the party cloudward.
-
 [^neverwinter]: [Neverwinter](https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Neverwinter) is a northern city of craftsmen and artisans regarded as among the most cosmopolitan metropoleis in Faerûn.
 
 [^ww]: The [Wintershield Watchmen](https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Wintershield_watchmen) is a local volunteer militia that polices the city of Neverwinter and sees to its interests in the surrounds.
@@ -48,4 +59,6 @@ Not ones to stick around in the face of certain obliteration, the party members
 
 [^hag]: A [night hag](https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Night_hag), a hag from the Hells.
 
-[^dragon]: [Themberchaud](https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Themberchaud), the Wyrmsmith of Gracklstugh, the Father of Flame, the Everburning! What a pickle...
+[^dragon]: [Themberchaud](https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Themberchaud), the Wyrmsmith of Gracklstugh, the Father of Flame, the Everburning! What a pickle...
+
+[^divine]: Almuth's player rolled `20` on "Divine Intervention".

acl.cool/site/writings/suaqsuese.dj

@@ -1,5 +1,4 @@
-# Ké Suaqsuese po ké\
-# Jiao Abarahamchuaq
+# Ké Suaqsuese po ké Jiao Abarahamchuaq
 
 Here's the Lord's Prayer, translated into the constructed language [Toaq](https://toaq.net).