Silver Insanity

Precious, Valuable Madness
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PostPosted: Mon May 14, 2007 10:27 pm 
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Prismatic Pangolin

Joined: Tue Apr 17, 2007 8:50 pm
Posts: 2283
If you take a walk, starting at reality, and heading out stage left, you find yourself in the plane of dreams; a hodgepodge collection of visions and nightmares floating just out of sight of the mortal realm. Look at the city of Targrove; then blink just so, and you see a myriad of Targroves, each one a vision of what might have been, or what someone thinks might be, all linked together like some mad spider's web.

Look more carefully, and you might spot a bubble wedged in amongst the dreams, its sharp edges locking down one specific vision of reality within its borders. A region several hundred feet across somehow fits in the cracks between two paving stones, and a million dreaming minds could cross that road without ever knowing it was there.

Inside this bubble is the private realm of one of Targrove's more enigmatic mages, known to have strange theories on the nature of magic that allow him access to powers subtly different from those of less... learned... practitioners. As proved by the presence of his own pocket dimension, a feat no mortal mage is known to have replicated.

Imagine, now, that this bit of stabilized dream-stuff is a raft anchored in the middle of a calm lake. And then somebody decided to have their battleship drop anchor next to it.
Of course, the analogy isn't perfect - rafts don't typically come with their own gravity, and are generally less likely to survive a close encounter of this sort.


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PostPosted: Mon May 14, 2007 11:43 pm 
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Sane. VERY Sane.

Joined: Tue Apr 17, 2007 8:32 pm
Posts: 610
Stewart cranes his neck up from a pile of books, scrolls, and items. It's created a bit of a mess around him, but it's an ordered mess. Each item is placed near things that relate to similar concepts. The entire thing is placed in a clear area of a garden, some dozen yards from the edge of reality. The edge of this reality, anyway.

Standing, he stretches his back and other muscles in that way that only felinoids can. His ears flick in irritation, but his tail flicks with curiosity. "Huh. And I thought nothing was going to bother me out here. Learn something new every day."

A moment of concentration causes what can only be described as a small pile of goo to appear out of nowhere and fall into his outstretched hand. It forms into a reasonable simulacrum of a bird and flies off towards the nothingness outside. "It should be able to make it out, but probably not in wherever that is. Should be instructive either way."

Whatever the result of his experiment, he turns back towards the tower. In a small room, guarded as well as he can make it, is an impressive archway which flares to life at the right arcane words. "If someone just moved in, and can do that, word should be around the Flying Dog Tavern."

As the tip of his tail vanishes back onto the Prime Material, a few final words fade in his bubble: "And I should stop talking to myself, too..."


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PostPosted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:23 am 
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Prismatic Pangolin

Joined: Tue Apr 17, 2007 8:50 pm
Posts: 2283
The bird flutters through the paths of the dream-Targrove for a few minutes, before finally homing in on one battered and broken image of a burnt out shell of a city wreathed in storm clouds. You can tell it's getting close to the center of the disruption - and then there's a momentary flicker of sharp white teeth, inky darkness, and blazing red eyes. Then nothing at all.

Your jog to the Flying Dog tavern is more or less uneventful. Once there, a few quick inquiries turn up only a single notable magical event in the mundane world within the past day or two: The kobold sorcerer-artist, Kiaskurro, has returned to the city after several years of absence.


Last edited by Wyvern on Tue May 15, 2007 12:54 am, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:41 am 
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Sane. VERY Sane.

Joined: Tue Apr 17, 2007 8:32 pm
Posts: 610
Hm. I have yet to see a sorcerer with that kind of power on tap, but as a specialist in alternative magic I'm not going to discount the possibility. Since nobody in town could do something like this, any new magic-user should at least be greeted...

Nobody? Well, there's always the Queen. It's difficult to say what's beyond her. But let's not beg any more trouble... And I've not seen any shapings like this from anyone here (excepting myself) before on a small scale, much less this sudden monstrosity.

After a couple questions on where to find Kiaskurro, a few drinks, and a good tip, Stewart heads off through the streets of Targrove at a rapid pace.


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PostPosted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:54 am 
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Prismatic Pangolin

Joined: Tue Apr 17, 2007 8:50 pm
Posts: 2283
As you round the last corner on to the street Kiaskurro lives on, it feels like you walked into the magical equivalent of a pressure cooker. The street is unsurprisingly empty - even a mundane mortal would instinctively avoid this mess. The edge of your conjured robe quickly begins to fray and dissolve under the hostile environment, though more permanent magic items seem unaffected.

Well... On second glance, the road isn't quite deserted. Partway down, Kiaskurro floats in midair atop his construct Komitus. Slightly unsteadily; it seems he is not immune to the effects of this much magic all in one place.

Even as you note his presence, however, the magical field collapses, taking with it every spell currently active in the area.


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PostPosted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:56 am 
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Prismatic Pangolin

Joined: Tue Apr 17, 2007 8:50 pm
Posts: 2283
End Chapter IV.

Continued in Chapter II.


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