Session 15 - Twelve Steps To A Healthier You

Our heroes have set foot inside of the ruined city of Alterna, the former capital of the Empire, a city destroyed in a magical cataclysm almost 300 years ago. Well… most of them. Bast and Linnet have been stuck on the Slim Reaper this whole time.
Bast’s job has been to see if the ship is going to fall apart once it takes to the skies again. It wouldn’t do to leave an escape route cut off through neglect, after all.
Also it would be poor form to strand Orrey’s sister in Alterna, but oddly enough, no one had that as their primary objection.
Linnet, meanwhile, has flitted from task to task aboard the rickety wooden airship, avoiding too much time spent around anyone who might want to know how she missed the giant shining airship that nearly ran them over. There have been sails to repair, knots to untie and/or re-tie, and pilots to sidestep.
After a thorough examination, Bast is confident the ship has at least one more flight in it, though nothing can be guaranteed on it finishing that flight gracefully. Linnet is confident that she will be able to see a ship at least six seconds before it collides with them, and the sails are indeed where they should be.
As Galley returns to the bridge to look over Bast’s damage report, Linnet and Bast return to the deck of the ship to find an encroaching mass of oddly low yellow-green storm clouds, a view of the decaying city, and a completely empty deck.
Isa, Yves, Orrey, and Cassiat — and that sparkling rabbit, which was not as helpful as it thought it was being — are nowhere to be seen.
We join our heroes as they decide what precisely to do next…
** “That’s about all we can do without something to reinforce the beams.” Bast glances at the horizon nervously for the third time. “And I really don’t like the look of those clouds.”
“…okay, I can’t have taken that long in composing that message. Did they start the party without us?” Linnet glances wildly around for evidence of a big smashy ship having been and gone before she noticed. “Is Galley occupied? Bast, nobody told you where they were going, I take it?”
“I was looking at the engine, no one checked in with me about their plans.”
Galley is on the bridge, but you can see him through the windows as he makes very concerned faces at the stack of papers Bast handed him. (Highlights include “severe risk of fire,” “seventeen optional parts located,” and “Yves is walking home.”)
“…right. Grab something that’ll do some damage and let’s go find our party.”
“I’ll have to find Yves first, then.” Bast looks around. “How securely are we anchored?”
Linnet spins in place a few times triple-checking for the giant ship or the giant armored person or anything on fire. “You’re asking the one who fell off the side? Securely enough, probably.”
“Right.” Bast glances up to make sure someone, anyone took in the sails ahead of the storm, then wanders off to check on the anchor.
The Slim Reaper has not shifted around or slipped since it landed on the edge of this crumbling building. It is unlikely that it will pitch itself off, unless acted upon by an outside force.
Linnet has no desire to be that outside force, so she steps off the ship onto what hopefully resembles a path into the woods and away from the clouds.
The anchor is securely hooked into one of these open windows dotting the floor. Those sickly-colored clouds are getting thicker. It’s possible to see the general direction you’re going, but any details of what lies between here and there are obscured. Thunder rolls, sending little shudders through the masonry beneath your feet. Flashes of light spark through the clouds.
“Hm, I wonder how lightning powers fight actual lightning…” Linnet’s fingers spark a bit as she fidgets.
As Bast finishes his check and Linnet considers the lightning…
A bolt of lightning crackles up into the air, rustling Isa’s hair in the static vacuum left in its wake. The storm has swept up around Isa, and Isa can see something clearly now that she’s in the middle of it; there are no clouds. It is more like a mass of air, thick and dangerous, has displaced the calm air surrounding the base of the toppled tower, yellow-green replacing blue, with the hairs on the backs of her hands standing at full attention.
Isa is standing on a ruined tower in the middle of a peculiar thunderstorm. What is Isa doing?
Isa shakes her head, and looks down at her gauntlet; violet sparks dance around the edges of the plates. She gets her bearings as quick as she can, and resumes heading towards the Adventure Hole. “ORREY! CASSIAT!”
Neither Orrey nor Cassiat answer Isa’s shout. The storm swirling around her, however, does, a lightning bolt zigzagging out of nowhere toward her. The bolt narrowly misses, leaving behind a buzzing haze and a ringing in the ears. For an instant, a wide-winged form seemed to take up the sky above.
“Hey!” Isa skips to the side, looking up. A less sensible person would shake a fist at the sky, but that fist is highly conductive right now and probably not wise to elevate.
Another bolt shears the air next to Isa, sliding away an instant before hitting her. The outline of a viera, hazy and tall. “We are broken and scattered. Aid me and I will help you—” It is gone.
Isa grunts, “Oh yeah. Real useful,” and looks for a hole to climb down.
Inside the ominous, fleshlike forest, Yves is suddenly very aware that Yves is inside the ominous, fleshlike forest. The sparkling green rabbit hops around cheerfully. Every sinewy trunk and branch has shifted, as if looking at the viera that has come into the forest. The silent forest… waits.
Yves swallows. And reminds himself of what his grandma always said about invasive species, and environmental protection, and only setting the /right/ things on fire. “…hello,” he tries. “I’m, uh, new here. Just passing through, though. Definitely not… putting down roots.”
The silence is broken by the sound of cracking limbs, crunching leaves, and snapping twigs. A writhing mass of eight intertwined trunks twists itself into a series of shapes. The shapes aren’t recognizable to Yves; the forms themselves don’t mean anything. They very much remind him of letters, though. Just not ones he’s ever seen.
Yves says, as politely as he can, “I’m afraid I don’t quite follow.” He fishes out a notebook, to try to copy down some of the shapes. “…I could try to find a translator, though? I’ll take notes, and see what I can do.”
The forms shift again, cracks forming in the trunks, the bark breaking apart, exposing the gray sap that runs inside the tree. It shifts between forms at a speed of about one every six seconds.
)@u9$ eG&6& 3#de+ HELP
Meanwhile, inside the Adventure Hole…
Orrey and Cassiat are inside of an ancient Alternan temple room devoted to Thalatte.
Orrey pulls out his notebook and quickly sketches the orbs and the layout of the room.
Cassiat pulls herself back up from the rightmost-bottom chamber. “There are stairs here, heading up — down — heading in both directions. Upstairs is heading back toward the ship, out toward the edge. Downstairs is heading toward the base, but I think we’re near the part where this place wrecked.” Another rumble of thunder rolls up above them. “I think there’s a storm coming in,” she says warily.
“Good thing we’re inside. I think we should head down to the base, but then again, the most important rooms in a building are sometimes at the top, right? So should we check out the top first?” Orrey wraps up the sketches and looks in both directions up and down the staircase.
Cassiat makes a face. “You’re not pawning this decision off on me.”
Orrey rolls his eyes. “Just looking for your input before making the final decision. We’re in this together.”
“I think my only input is that we shouldn’t split up.”
“Um…we did kinda leave everyone behind already… Not on purpose, really.”
She sits on the edge of the doorjamb and lets her boots swing back and forth freely. “I meant you and me split up! I’m sure they’re fine. Isa knows everything and definitely tells everyone that, too.”
“Isa the Wise, Queen of…where was she from…um…”
“Cardia.”
“Nice ring to it, Queen of Cardia. They have royalty there, right?”
“They have a king there, not a queen. Even if it’s a woman.”
“King of Cardia is even better alliteration. Though we should change wise to…intelligent? Seems like a mouthful. Isa the Inexorable maybe. Anyway. The ship is back towards the top, and the top might have the most important stuff, so let’s go to the top.” Orrey heads off towards the next level, glancing back to see if sis is following.
Cassiat does indeed follow, as you both pick through crumbling stone and water-damaged wooden beams. The next room took the brunt of the crash, from what you can tell — there is nothing but wreckage as you peer in, with the only sign of what it once was being the edge of an anvil poking out from around two shattered columns.
The next room upstairs is fascinating, for two reasons. It’s built in the same style as the floor you were just on — a central chamber, expansive, with two smaller rooms on the side that hold the stairs and other small articles of worship. The centerpiece in the main room — the wall is mostly broken out, so it’s easy to see — is a beautiful wooden dining hall table, stretching nearly the length of the room, with the items that once rested on top of it now strewn all about with the collapse of the building; silverware, plates, glasses, napkins, serving trays, and more food than you’ve ever seen in one place. The food is all completely fresh. Steamed rice, buttery rolls, roasted birds and grilled vegetables, all of it pristine and perfect (save the part where it’s scattered all over the floors and walls from the fall).
Orrey picks up a roll and smells it.
The roll smells better than anything you’ve ever smelled.
Isa’s voice: “For fuck’s sake, Orrey, don’t eat that.”
There’s also that second interesting thing.
“I wasn’t really planning on it.” Orrey pockets the roll. “I’m just curious whether it’s real or not.” A beat. “Oh ISA! Hi!”
Isa drops down from the window she was climbing through. “Yeah, I just feel better if I don’t make assumptions about self-preservation. Did you not hear me calling?”
Orrey looks at Cassiat questioningly. “I didn’t hear much of anything in here. Something wrong?”
Isa gives him a flat look. “There’s a storm. It’s weird. You and Yves both wandered too far off.”
Meanwhile…
Linnet and Bast can see the storm system approaching the ship, a good deal quicker than before. Linnet’s sharp bird-watching eyes, honed on the trip over, must be lying to her, because she can’t be seeing birds in everything now.
Galley opens the door from the bridge, walks out onto the deck, looks up, and swears. “That looks bad. Where’s Cass and the rest?”
“Out. We’re going looking for ’em. Stay dry?” Linnet says.
“…be safe, or at least close to it, okay?” Galley sets about doing a quick check of the ship to make it as stormproof as he can.
“We are?” Bast glances over the ship once more for anything that needs attention before the storm hits, then sighs and grabs a coil of rope. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“You too, Galley. C’mon, Bast, let’s stick close. I think I’m seeing things in those clouds.”
“…things?” Bast turns to look at the clouds.
“Just my imagination. Why is there a toppled building?”
The air thickens, static building up around Bast and Linnet both. Sparks dance around the edges of Bast’s tools.
Irritably, Linnet attempts to wave away the static and only succeeds in messing up her hair. “Okay, I’m gonna start shouting for ’em unless you have a better idea.”
Bast sighs. “This is not off to a great start. Galley? We’ll try heading towards the city. Make sure the ship stays here, stay with the ship if you can’t.”
“Understood. If I have to get clear, I’ll come back here,” Galley says.
Bast nods in acknowledgment and hops overboard, grabbing a railing one-handed before dropping the rest of the way and heading out into the storm.
The storm is ready, two more lightning bolts blasting down from the heavens, missing Bast but crackling through Linnet, each accompanied by a frenzied screeching.
“HEY! Ow! Skies damn it, what the hell was that?” Linnet extinguishes the smoking end of her braid and glares at the storm.
The storm glares back. The storm is suddenly tangible. Each spot of color surrounding Bast and Linnet concentrates itself into a shape, small silhouettes of birds, each of them sparkling with electricity, long whiplike tails behind them.
“…why did it have to be birds?” Linnet laments.
They spin rapidly around the two of them, moving in formation to take the shape of a much, much, much larger bird, a wingspan of at least seventy-five feet, lightning coursing through the wings, spreading its wings to blot out the sky above.
WE WILL NEVER GO BACK INSIDE. WE WILL NEVER BE CAGED AGAIN.
“Okay, I’m all for it, just stop zapping me! Sheesh.”
Back inside the unsettling forest…
HELP the trees read.
Yves has written this down, along with other symbols, but his notebook hangs by his side in one hand now. “I’ll… I’ll try. I want to help. I’m the sort of person who helps people who need help! Or at least I’m trying to be, it’s kinda new, but…” He takes a quick breath, and stops explaining his backstory to the trees. “Okay. What do you need? How can I help?”
The sparklebunny bumps its head against one of the tree trunks again. The tree limbs slacken. One of the thicker branches snaps off and falls to the ground, breaking apart in three places. Two trunks to Yves’s right push apart, wet cracks echoing through the forest.
“I… hope that doesn’t hurt,” Yves says, under his breath, and looks to where things are breaking and shoving and generally acting in a way he is not used to trees doing. But most trees can’t spell, either, so these ones get bonus points there.
A little bit of light shines from behind the trees — a shimmery light blue.
Yves heads for the light, trying this time to avoid stepping on any roots.
The light shines brighter as Yves peers behind the trunks. It shrinks/dims/coalesces, into… …a mask.
Yves digs into his bag for the cracked mask he’s been carrying, and holds it up. “Do you want more? Do you want them repaired? Destroyed? Or… I need more clues, here.”
This one is made of an old and colorless gnarled wood, with two eye sockets, a smooth surface where the nose and mouth would be, and what look like dozens of small branches and twigs extending up instead of hair. Almost all of them have broken off.
The trunks expand and contract, slowly, slightly, weakly.
Yves pats one tentatively. “I’m sorry. I do want to help. Can… uh… can you twitch once for yes, twice for no? And I can try asking questions?”
The trees do not respond. The mask glows faintly. Somewhere outside, the storm rages.
Somewhere inside, the food smells fantastic.
Orrey thinks a bit…“Thalatte, an anvil, a table full of food. Isa, you’re going to love the next room, if my theory is correct. C’mon! This way leads back to the ship as well, and we can reunite everyone.”
Isa looks confused by that. “What do you think is next?”
“Itami!”
“Enh.”
“You like to dance, right? At least, with pointy objects.”
Cassiat follows Orrey along the bottom pathway toward the stairs. The windows here are open, and you can all see the waves far below. You are out over the open sea.
“Itami’s for warriors,” Isa says as she follows along. She’s quiet for a moment, then says almost confessionally, “I’d rather the forgotten.”
Orrey nods soberly at that. “I, as well. Though I guess you’re more of a guardian shield than I am.”
The next floor is perhaps a little unexpected. There are no magnificent weapons, ornate banners, or mighty statues. Just a broad circle on the floor — to you, it’s a wall, thanks to the tipped building — with a painted broadsword with a flag wrapped around it in the center. Most of a green banner, wrapped around the edges and pinned up on the wall, remains underfoot.
There is an energy to this room, though.
Orrey sketches the room again, and adds to his notes the order he’s discovered. “And the next room should have clocks. Mechon.”
“All Twelve, in order, huh?” Isa asks.
“The one after that is for the Forgotten, and then Yoshuelje. You got it.” Orrey grins at Isa. This must be a Tower to the Twelve. I don’t remember if I’ve read about it…I don’t think… Yeah, there’s NOTHING like this mentioned in the usual texts."
Another delicate series of steps, Orrey’s enthusiasm propelling them forward…
“Not even in Istan’s treatise on the architectural influence of the gods.”
“You’d think it’d be in THAT. She makes all kinds of references to Alternan works.”
Isa gingerly makes her way. “Thing about lost cities, Orrey, is that they’re lost.”
GM/Matt11/06/2019 The next floor shows a series of clock faces, on the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Cassiat starts to comment on them, but stops when the telltale click of the times changing goes. Exactly one minute later, they go again. Each clock face switches from 11:14 to 11:15 to 11:16 to 11:15 and so on.
“Lost, sure, but completely forgotten? No way.” Orrey pauses again to sketch it all.
The tower also makes a very, very concerning creak as you move.
Isa pauses. “Mind your steps, you two. We’re way out past the fulcrum now.”
As Orrey sketches and the trio plan their next steps…
…Bast and Linnet have the same need to plan, with perhaps a bit more speed.
The mass of lightning birds flap their collective wings overhead, the neck craning down to focus on the sylph and moogle. Behind them, Galley waits on the bridge of the Slim Reaper, ready to push it into the air if needed, ready to abandon them per their request. Isa, Orrey, and Cassiat remain nowhere to be seen. Yves, as well, is missing.
Bast glances back at the ship – their only way out of this so far – then around them for anything resembling shelter from the giant stormbird.
There are a fair amount of holes in the floor — windows into whatever this tower used to be. Past the stormbird are more buildings, more trees, more signs of the Alterna of the past.
Looking up, Bast yells in response to the bird’s thundering voice: “What do you want from us?” Then, much quieter, to Linnet: “Get ready to move.”
Linnet doesn’t need to be told twice, crouching at the side of a windowhole.
The whirlwind of birds looms closer in response to Bast’s question, lightning churning up rocks behind them.
“Look, we have no intention of caging you, and we’re happy to help you stay free as, well, birds, if you stop zapping us. Please, clearly you can communicate, so let’s try that before we get back to slinging currents around. Okay?” (Linnet has not stopped crouching beside the windowhole.)
The mass of birds rear up, a bolt crackling through it from tip to tail, and then with a flap of its many-birded wings, the electric birds all separate, spiraling out around the tower and back toward the base of the tower, leaving Bast and Linnet in their wake.
“…let’s get inside before they change their collective mind.” Linnet ducks down.
“Or before anything angrier shows up.” Bast looks for something sturdy to tie the rope to.
The birds fly through the air, rocks rattling up off the toppled tower to spiral after them in their wake, sending a straight-line gust of pebbled wind into the forest, peppering Yves with annoying but harmless debris.
The trees continue to do something akin to labored breathing.
Yves twitches away from the pelting, then rocks back on his heels as he looks at the mask. “Okay,” he says, coming to a decision. “Let me know /immediately/ if this, uh, hurts. Or just isn’t what you want.” On which request, he reaches forward and begins to detach the mask from where it sits.
The mask is heavier than the cracked mask Yves has in his bag, made of a dense wood, weighty in his hand. It comes away easily from the pocket inside the tree. Yves does not see any sign from the trees that would mean anything in particular.
Yves puts the old mask back into his satchel, but this new wooden one he tucks down into his zipped-up hoody, where it can rest against his chest. “I’m going to talk to my friends,” he says, “and we’ll figure out what we should do with this. They’re pretty good at figuring out unusual situations. I mean, collectively, anyway.”
Meanwhile, the collective has found an unusual situation. For one, they’ve found each other, as Bast and Linnet descend down a rope (well, Bast is using the rope, Linnet is likely floating down, knowing her) into the room as Orrey, Isa, and Cassiat delicately pick their way around a half-wall that’s fallen into the ocean below. For two… this room is almost completely empty.
“Uh, hi, guys. I’m going to assume you didn’t knock the building over, right?” Linnet asks.
“It was like that when we fell into it.” Orrey pauses. “I mean, when I fell into it.”
“Also when we landed on it,” Isa points out.
There is just one thing in here, tumbled into the far corner of the central room. A helmet, dark blue, with a full face-obscuring visor, and antlers; one antler broken from a fall in the distant past.
“Yes, well, you’ve seen how sharp my spotting skills are.” Linnet blushes and looks away. “So…who lost a helmet?”
Orrey sketches the helmet. “The Forgotten.” He walks over to it and picks it up. Orrey holds up the helmet reverently.
“I think we are -” Bast does some quick calculations in his head “- two rooms out from the ship at this point? And I’d be really careful about exploring any further. This place has some structural issues.”
“Two rooms which way?” Orrey looks around. “Towards the open ocean?”
“That’s where the ship is,” Cassiat helps.
“TWO rooms?” Orrey looks utterly gobsmacked. “There’s only ONE god left…”
“Maybe they found an extra?” Linnet is not entirely caught up on the whole gods thing.
Orrey fills them in on the order of the rooms quickly.
The tower shifts and groans under three hundred years of stress.
“If there’s another god we don’t even KNOW about…”
Isa cuts in. “Or counted differently. Or needed somewhere to keep their spare chairs. Now is not the time, Orrey.”
“That could be the biggest discovery in ages!”
“Not if it kills us.”
Bast raises a hand. “That’s fascinating and all, but I don’t think it’s going to keep this place from coming apart if you rush in there. This might be the get-back-on-the-ship-and-lower-someone-down kind of exploration.”
“Did that god have anything to do with knocking the building over, by any chance? Is there a god of architectural chaos?” Linnet asks.
“That kind of find could make us all famous, and rich, and WHO KNOWS what,” Orrey tries.
Isa just stares at Orrey for a second. “Did you hit your head falling in here?”
“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Right. Turn around. We’re heading back, and we’re heading out, and we’re finding Yves.”
“I mean, this doesn’t seem like any different from normal Orrey. Academia tends to blindside you to a lot of things in pursuit of fascinating discoveries in your field. Things like gravity. And structural hazards.” Linnet considers. “If you need some investigating with someone who doesn’t mind falling into the ocean, I’m game.”
Isa turns. “Don’t you start.”
“Right, where is Yves?” He looks longingly towards the top of the tower, but restrains himself. “Linnet, we should plan on coming back…sometime.”
“Sometime when Isa’s not going to be quite as mad at us, you mean. I get it.” Linnet floats toward the window. “Look, let’s get back and make sure Yves hasn’t blown anything else up, and then we can work on the Mystery of the Thirteenth God Storage Room. Also, if a bunch of lightning birds form up close to you, try being polite to them? They understand at least a little.”
The sparkling green rabbit happily bounds around Yves’s ankles as they leave the forest behind. In the distance, the Slim Reaper waits, floating above the edge of the toppled tower. Yves gives his chest a little pat now and again, for the mask stored safely there. The mask doesn’t feel quite so cold anymore. A few leaves blow on the breeze behind Yves as he walks to rejoin his friends and share the day’s discoveries.
And with that… End session.