It's been two months since you first received word from Danien. Even though the letter was sparse for details, and insisted upon discretion, it was like you could sense the man's frantic urgency through the ink. Two months since you received the letter. Two months that you've traveled the Astral Sea. And now you've finally arrived.
The Eradanispace System is home to one of the most densely settled, economically, and culturally significant colonies of the Toril originators: the planet Yellowstone and its Glitterband.
Yellowstone itself is a world with a dense atmosphere, appearing to be covered in a thick yellowish-orange smog. Parts of it are habitable due to the breathable gases that leak from its deep chasms, which has lead to the construction of large domed cities. It looms beneath your feet, with its swirling tangerine colored atmosphere.
Your destination was never the planet itself, rather one of the many tens of thousands of orbital habitants that make up its Glitterband. Each varies in size, though most are roughly approximate to what the old cities of Toril measured up to. The city-sized habitats also vary wildly in law and culture.
You currently find yourself on Carousel New Winter, waiting within the reception area of one of the Sylveste Institute's research facilities. You were guided here by the instructions set forth in the letter, but you were surprised to see that four others were also invited.
[[ Go ahead and introduce your character as they're let into the waiting area! ]]
Standing, almost seeming to hover in it's long dark robes with a high flaring collar, a creature commonly known as a mind flayer observes the others gathered through pale lidless eyes devoid of pupils, the tentacles of it's expressionless face constantly writhing and undulating in a most unsettling way. It holds in it's long slender arm something reminiscent of a brain against it's body, slowly petting it's moist supple skin, the creature almost seeming to purr with satisfaction over it's masters attention. It carries a shoulder bag of sorts in some alien greyish material, holding at least two thick tomes, a bag suitable for a scholar it would seem.
"Greetings, the name is Arcaelothryx'x, I assume we are all here with the same purpose."You suddenly feel the illithid entering your minds, his voice sending a brief shiver down your spines. "I aplogize for the way I communicate, some find it...unsettling, but it will pass soon enough. And I can assure you I normally abstain from devouring brains of associates." He adds with a brief wet sucking staccato sound coming from the mouth hidden behind the writhing tentacles, alomost like a revolting chuckle.
Raeksalos enters the waiting room after his long journey, more than ready to see what it is that Danien feels is so urgent. When the message had reached him he had been in the Feywild for quite some time, which was a testament to Danien’s knowledge and reach as well as to the message’s importance.
It had taken a while to locate a portal that would bring him to the material plane in a place that harboured Sylveste family passenger ships, and from there board one of their Spelljammer vessels. It had been like a sort of home coming entering Wildspace again after so long, and from there out into the Astral Sea. He had spent so much time in various regions of Wildspace after originally leaving the Astral Sea. It is impossible to tell how long he had lived in the Astral Sea itself before that, as time has no jurisdiction there. It was long enough to suffer the effects of wanderlust, that is all he could really say.
He had stood on the deck of the Spelljammer vessel as it left Toril, for once a passenger and not a part of the crew. He had looked out at the dark expanse and his mind had reached unbidden back to his darkest memory. He had been powerless to stop what happened then, and but for a stroke of luck in coming across a portal, or some innate sense for such things, he would have suffered the same fate as the rest of that particular crew. He would never forget the figure standing in complete silence on the deck of the other Spelljammer ship, seemingly co-ordinating the attack with expert precision despite not a sound coming from it’s octopus like visage.
Back in the present, anyone watching his entrance to the reception area sees a fairly tall lithe elf with long white hair and eyes that almost glow a light blue. His skin is a pale purple and covered in shining white tattoos that make a swirling pattern across his skin. He wears a studded leather jerkin that looks as if it has seen better days, light brown trousers and black boots which rise up to cover his knees. At his waist he wears a belt with a rapier hanging on one side and a pistol on the other, along with various pouches in between. He walks with a fluid grace, even beyond what would normally be expected of his elven kin.
As he moves, his eyes scan the room and the millisecond they come to rest on the Ilithid he becomes visibly wary. And when its voice intrudes into his mind, his hand instinctively goes to the pistol at his side.
“I have known your kind before, and if that is an attempt at humour it is in very poor taste”, he says, glaring at Arcaelothoryx’x, obviously uncomfortable being in the presence of one of the most feared races in the multiverse. A race he has a history with.
“I am Raeksalos, but most simply call me Raek. I am here in answer to an invitation from an acquaintance of mine, Danien. I guess you all got similar messages”, he says by way of an introduction to the others. "Seeing you all makes me even more curious as to what this is about".
Resting comfortably and leaned back in one of the reception area's chairs with his legs straight out and feet crossed, a brown hair and brown-eyed human lets out a short laugh. "No no, that was good." He says, still chuckling as he waves away the elf's comment with his hand."If you need anymore discouragement, my brain is rotten and'll give you a wicked bad tummy ache." After stretching his arms above his head, he pushes himself up against the chair to stand.
He gives a small wave to the others, a smile on his face. "Names Halen Jor, call me Hal."
"A mysterious cry for help, lacking in detail but requesting everything be dropped immediately to come here? Yeah. Got that."His gaze moves to the door leading further into the facility, as if that might manifest something to come through and explain this to them. "Odd bunch to gather up though, hope this isn't a team thing. First impressions tell me the group vibe might be a little rough."
"My apologies Raeksalos of the astral elves..."The deep raspy voice responds. "...admittedly I have yet much to learn before I master the frivolence of jesting. Suffice to say humour has no real significance in illithid society." The voice continues while the mind flayer bows slightly to the astral elf, then turning to the unfortunate human with the rotten brain. "I am sure we are all professionals here..." The voice continues. "...as I am quite certain there is a purpose for all of us to be gathered, logically to assemble a certain set of skills in order to accomplish a task soon to be given to us by our client."
The young man that enters next has done his part to remain someone inconspicuous. He slowly approaches the gathering group, but can't help but stare at the Illithid as he gets closer.
"You guys really are the devil's nightmares." He says quietly as he steps into the gathering throng. "Well, I guess I'm glad that it isn't a trap."
He reaches up and rubs the stubble on his chin after saying this and seems to give the rest of the group a thoughtful look. His hand continues its journey, going up the side of his head and raking its way backward through his hair.
"Well, I guess if it is a trap, I'm glad it hasn't been sprung yet." He amends as he tears his eyes away from the Illithid and winces every time the thing speaks directly into his brain. "Oh dear, is this really going to be how this is? Hal...nice to meetcha...Raek...Archie..."
He whispers the names to himself as he offers his hand around for shakes. He grimaces a little when he shake's Arcaelothyrx'x hand and eyeballs the gross little brain pet with unhidden revulsion.
"Crash Watt at your service. Hopefully the last couple of months have been worth it. Hopefully I'm all the way out here two months away from my past. Professionals? Maybe you guys. Not sure I'm a professional anything. But hey, what are friends for, right?If not to get each other out of trouble..."
"Arcaelothoryx'x, not Archie!"The voice emotionlessly corrects the young man with the apparent itch, and as the human offers the illithid his hand, the illithid simply looks down at it for an awkward moment while slowly petting his pet before realizing it is the servitor races' customary greeting ritual. In his extensive studies of the races he now intermingled with he had gathered that this would be a way for them to show they had a peaceful intent by not carrying some crude weapon in this hand. The ritual seemed to assume everyone was right-handed and did not possess more sophisticated means to harm the other, but these less than rational traditions would have to be expected by humans and the other servitor races. Finally the illithid takes the human's hand in his, his palm and four slender fingers cold to the touch. "It appreciates if you pet it." The voice explains as the human admires the brain-like creature in his arm.
Raek slowly moves his hand six inches or so away from his pistol, flexing his fingers as he does so. He is obviously not totally placated by Arcaelothryx'x but is certainly affected by the fact that they apologised.
He finally looks from the Mind Flayer to Halen Jor and then Crash Watt. "Well, I think we can be certain he hasn't invited us to join his book club, Hal. Except for maybe Arcaelothryx'x here", he says motioning at their tomes. "You know, maybe you should use Archie, makes you seem a little less...disturbing".
He takes Crash's hand to shake, pausing a few moments before committing as he directly follows the Illithid.
"I certainly hope you aren't a helmsman with a name like Crash", he says wiping his palm on the back of one of the chairs.
He moves to lean against a wall, where he can see everyone in the room.
"Didn't even know he had a book club, now I'm just offended he hasn't offered me an invite before."Hal'sdumb cheesy grin hasn't left his face, even as he moves to shake everyone else's hands as part of the ritual. He doesn't appear to be made uncomfortable at all by the Illithid's presence. He was well aware of their reputation, but he'd learned a long time ago - painfully in fact - to not take beings at face value.
And his arrogance blinded him from recognizing threats, legitimate or otherwise.
"All respect to what you want to be called, if Arcaelothryx'x is the way then it's the way...But I kind of agree here. Archie sounds endearing y'know?"
A slim, dainty figure runs through the door, panic evident in her face as she catches her breath. "Sorry I'm late!" As she recovers her breath, she looks around the room, clearly awestruck by the futuristic architecture, excitement peeking through her harried breaths as she takes it all in.
Once she recovers, she takes a moment to study the other people in the room, a little intimidated by all the imposing figures, before making a double taking once she registers the presence of the illithid among them. "O-Oh... Didn't think I'd see one of your kind here." She quickly moves on however, as her excitement begins to fully express itself.
"Hello everyone! My name is Sylvia Slitherlight. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She speaks in a vaguely aristocratic accent, performing a small curtsy as she introduces herself."Did you all also receive a letter from a Mr. Damien Sylveste? Because that is why I'm here." She presents the letter she received.
"You find my name disturbing, Raeksalos of the astral elves?" The voice asks while the illithid seems to frown, the tentacles of his head still writhing and undulating, a little faster now as if excited. Not quite expecting an answer, the illithid lowers his gaze after a moment but keeps petting the creature in his arm. During the years of intermingling with the lesser races this was the first time anyone had renamed him. He didn't quite grasp the mentioned concept of endearment. It seemed to be how the servitor races ensured loyalty, by appealing to emotions, but it lacked any sense of cold logic.
The thoughts of the illithid are intrerrupted by the slim female entering the reception area. "Greetings Ms. Slitherlight, I am Arcaelothoryx'x...although it has been suggested that Archie would be less disturbing and more endearing." The dark raspy voice explains as the illithid bows slightly to the newcomer. "My kind is indeed not often seen intermingling this way. I would assume we are all here to assist Mr. Sylveste in some endeavour, but there has also been mention of a some sort of book club." The voice emotionlessly continues.
After your introductions to each other have been made, the door opens slowly and a figure walks in. It's not Danien as you might have been expecting, but rather a middle-aged halfling with short brown hair. They were spectacles on their face, and their clothes are far too fine to be a mere servant. You notice that one of their arms has a metallic sheen to it: a prosthetic. "Ah, Danien's guests. Welcome."
He moves out of the way, motioning you into the hallway he just came from. "Second door on your left, less prying eyes in there." He says flatly, staring at some unseen object in a corner of the reception room.
After you've all moved to the new destination he follows you in and closes the door behind him, locking it promptly. "I'm afraid that Danien is not here, he is currently...Unavailable, a fact which you may be required to solve." The room itself is a relatively modest study, compared to the grandeur you might be used to from families as wealthy as the Sylvestes. Shelves filled with books line every wall, neatly organized by subject, author, and publish date. There's plenty of cushioned chairs and seats around the large room, but a central table with simple wood chairs dominates the room.
"The details of your summons can be found in the documentation there." The halfling says, gesturing towards the table.
A letter sits upon the table, in the same handwriting as the ones you'd already received.
"I'm pleased that you've all made it to Yellowstone, and I'm sorry to have not been there in person, and for all the secrecy.
I don't even know how to begin. Perhaps it is best to simply say that everything we know and hold dear is under threat. There was always a nagging feeling in the back of my mind concerning the historical timing of our known cultures. How there's such a large gap between the historical beginnings of our oldest cultures and the end of the dead ones we've found so far. Worlds sterilized, dead gods adrift in their systems, ruins of their civilization buried under so many years of time.
Of course the mainstream view for many years has been one of indifference - "so what if all life across the material plane was wiped in some cataclysm and unfathomable amount of time ago, why would it ever happen again?" Ignorance. Myopic stupidity. It's happening again, now.
In my notes, you'll find records of the observations I've made in recent months. Two known stars on the edge of what we've settled so far that have simply vanished. Reports of exploratory ships that have gone missing in the same area. No survivors. Never any survivors. They've been reported as victims of accidents, or piracy. Ignorance.
As influential as my family is, our reputation has been tarnished as of late - I'm sure you all know why. I have already been laughed out of more than one meeting with our worlds' leaders. I need more evidence, a solid case. Sending more exploratory ships to the vanished stars is suicide, I fear you would only meet the same fate as those already lost.
I believe the clues to the information we seek can be found on Resurgam, in the Pavonispace System. Colonies were originally founded by our institute for archaeological purposes, unearthing the remains of the Amaratin: one of those long dead cultures we've discovered. But that was a long time ago. Generations have passed, and attitudes have changed. We let control of Resurgam slip through our fingers, and its new leaders are forging ahead with a plan to alter the world into something more habitable. A process which will destroy the evidence we so desperately need.
I've gone ahead of you to delay them as best I can. Charter a ship - not one of ours - and meet me there as soon as possible. We need to find record of what happened to the Amaratin, and quickly, before this coming cataclysm reaches our homes.
Kallum will help you find whatever you need, my resources are open to you. And if we succeed, I promise to elevate you to a level of wealth you could only dream of."
After you finish reading the letter, the halfing clears his throat and speaks up. "I have been instructed to assist you in any way I can. Once you have found the ship and supplies you require, I have an account unconnected to the Sylveste Institute by which I can pull funds to acquire said ship and supplies.
"Oh, my bad Archi...Archaeopteryx. And you wouldn't believe how often I've been told that!" Crash says with some enthusiasm before he realizes it's a brain laying there waiting for scritches. He waits moment...then reaches out to gently caress it with his fingers. "Oooh...what a uhm...lovely creature..."
He smiles, turning his attention from the Illithid and its strange little friend, and is glad to be distracted by Raek.
"Oh me? Nope! No helmsman here! Or at least I hope not. Can't imagine the insurance companies would like that..."
Hearing Arcaelothoryx embrace Archie as a possible pseudonym, Crash smiles and reaches over to clap him on his shoulder.
"Yeah Archie! See, that's not so bad!" He says with pure joy before giving a revulsed glance to the brain-cat-chihuahua pet. "We're going to be best buds I bet! Crash and Archie, the dynamic duo! I can be the Batknight to your Starling! It'll be great! There'll even be a song like...like this! Let me tell you 'bout Arrr-chie! He likes to laugh and play and pet brains all day..."
He ceases his crap attempt at singing when the door opens and they're guided inside, into the small room with all the books, where be begins tracing his fingertips along spines before sitting down and having a look at the letter.
"Guys, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but..." He says, taking a deep breath and then an exasperated exhalation... "But I am completely unqualified for this shit. Archie, you're clearly the expert here. What are we dealing with? If someone is going to be the brains of our Batknight operation it's going to have to be you. Wait wait wait, no, not Batknight. We'll be like Watlock and Sherson. You're really the brains of the operation and I'm just the pretty face. Yeah."
"Good to have you with us, Sylvia Slitherlight", Raek says as the excitable newcomer introduces herself, before the halfling arrives to take them through to another room. Thankfully interrupting Crash who had decided to sing for some reason. As they walk, he stays behind Arcaelothryx'x, making sure he has eyes on the Illithid at all times.
"It is not your name that is disturbing, although the echo at the end might be considered foreboding by some", he says as they walk. "It doesn't matter, your name is your name", he concludes as they enter the new room that appeared to be a study.
He contemplates the content of the letter, and the sheer scale of the threat Danien was bringing to their attention.
"I can see why he summoned me. Identifying, tracking and nullifying threats is kind of what I have been doing in recent years", he says, his gaze still focussed on Arcaelothryx'x. "But the sheer scale of this...", he says trailing off.
He stands lost in thought, waiting to hear what the others make of it.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The illithid finds himself concerned over the illogical and quite nonsensical comments by the human appropriately called Crash, but this was to be expected of the frivolous servant races. The illithid bows to the halfling as the team is collected and hovers after him into the small library, remaining standing with his pet in his arm as the halfling speaks. As the others finishes with the letter it lifts from the table and floats over to the illithid, his pale lidless eyes studying it's contents. He was aware of the disturbing rumours of stars vanishing, something that should be of great concern of all species in the astral space. With all of existance in the balance they all would need to come together as an efficient team. It was hard to imagine who would oppose an expedition to save all life from extinction but there could of course be those ignorant of this threat, or maybe even doomsday cults wanting to usher in this dark fate. "We will have to put emotions aside and focus on the task at hand." The voice says as the letter floats back and lands on the table again. "Where can we charter a ship?" The voice asks as the illithid hovers along the bookshelves.
History regarding Resurgam: 8 History regarding Amaratin: 14
Investigation of the library to quickly find some litterature on any subjects he rolls poorly on: 17
Another roll regarding Resurgam if any found litterature would give advantage: 12 Another roll regarding Amaratin if any found litterature would give advantage: 11
"...Oh my." The news of the disappearance of stars disturbs her, as it would any reasonable person.
And yet she simply cannot help her excitement. "A mysterious threat that might end all known life in universe? How exciting! This is shaping up to be quite the adventure." It takes her a moment to realize how what she just said might sound. "Err, not that such information isn't incredibly distressing, of course."
Knowing that their shared patron is paying for their supplies and ship, Sylvia asks the halfling: "Excuse me sir, if Mr. Sylveste will be providing us with funding, then what are the limits on what we can purchase?" Her mind is already running with possibilities, as she thinks on what they can purchase.
Hallets out a low whistle, "damn. I woulda preferred the book club invite."
The magnitude of what was just put before was unthinkable, enough to even give him pause for a moment. After gauging the reactions of the rest of the room, his confidence catches back up. "Don't sell yourself short Crash, Danien's a smart guy, I'm sure he had good reasons for specifically choosing us to go do the hero thing."
He watches the illithid wander the room, scouring for information. "Let us know if you find anything good Archie," he comments before turning on the halfling.
"Got a question Kallum. Maybe I'm just bad at paying attention, what happened to the Sylveste family to embarrass them so?"
CONTEXT - This knowledge is well known, information that rocked the newsphere when the scandal broke -
The Eighty
Calvin Sylveste, father to Danien was an avid augmentist, deep in research involved with supplementing humanoid capabilities with permanently worn arcane devices. More than anything, he sought a pathway to immortality outside of lichdom, instead wishing to transfer ones mind into an artificial construct that could be expanded at will.
He rounded up 80 volunteers, himself included and all from distinguished families to be subjected to a process he had devised. The speed and violence of the transfer would destroy the biological brain - though none of the volunteers cared what would happen to their physical bodies afterwards, so no disagreements were had. They expected to rise to a greater height: Eighty above the rest of the mortal Material Plane.
After the experiment concluded, everything appeared to be working correctly. Calvin Sylveste had succeeded. But by one year afterwards, something was going wrong. The artificial minds started freezing, or entering paradoxical loops and imploding. There was a conceptual flaw in Sylveste's design, and only a few of the Eighty survived, Calvin among them. The entire event had the Sylveste senior deemed a mass murderer, permanently marring the family's reputation.
"There are currently three ships in port capable of making the journey the Resurgam," Kallum says, procuring a piece of parchment from within his waistcoat. "The Storm Bird, a freighter owned and operated by one Antoinette Bax. It would be the slowest, but the crew will be relatively normal compared to the other two craft. A much lower probability of funny business occurring.
"The other two are the fastest class of craft available for long journeys such as yours, lighthuggers. Nostalgia for Infinity, an Ultra controlled ship, lead by one Captain John Brannigan. And the last..." He sighs. "Spiders. Another lighthugger by the name of Nightshade, a Conjoiner ship. I have no information on its captain."
CONTEXT -
Conjoiners
A faction of humanoids dedicated to the advancement of species through absolute unification. They implement arcane powered augments to allow for direct telepathic transfer of thoughts and experiences between all individual Conjoiner minds. By outsides, they are pejoratively referred to as spiders.
Ultranauts
A faction of humanoids that serve and rule aboard lighthuggers. They spend most of their time in the Astral Sea, lending them extremely long lives compared to those who dwell within Wildspace Systems. There is no unifying political or philosophical structure behind Ultra society - each crewed lighthugger is its own microcosm. They are extremely isolated from the rest of society, and do not appear to even form close association with other Ultra crews.
Not much about the planet Resurgam would come to Arcaelothryx'x's mind, save for what they recall of the discovery of the Amaratin. The only mention of the planet to be found on Danien's shelves is within a dozen page loosely bound article detailing the high notes of the finding. None of it is particularly new knowledge to the illithid. Danien himself chartered the expedition to Resurgam on a hunch, establishing a research colony on the desert world.
The Amaratin were found to be a bird-like species that once inhabited the world, similar to the Aarakocra, but incapable of flight. This was featured heavily in their mythology, which claimed that their god Birdmaker traded them their intelligence for flight - a pact that if broken, would be rescinded. Archaeologists were able to gather that the extinct species were intensely social creatures, so much so that isolation from the flock would inflict severe psychological repercussions.
All Amaratin artefacts and ruins are present in the rock layer below a hair thin blackened line, which researchers presume to be a marker of the Event, a worldwide cataclysm that lead to the destruction of their species.
The halfling almost glares at Hal, saying simply, "the Eighty" before turning to address Sylvia'squestion.
"Whatever you think you may require that can be procured quickly. Time is of the essence in this matter."
"Oh, Sylvia!" Crash said, sticking his hand out to give her the proper greeting. "Crash Watt, explorer extraordinaire! You may have heard of me! I'm the better half of Archie and Crashfunkle. We're kinda under the radar and kinda a big deal. Gonna fix this whole problem right up. Oh, but I guess that's why you're here too huh? Wait a minute..."
If someone getting an idea could simultaneously look like passing a kidney stone and a light bulb gently flickering, that's how Crash looks as some sort of epiphany, if you could call it that, surges through his mind.
"No, no no no...I got it. I got it. I hard of this band one time...yeah! And we're like that! Check it! Archie, Syl's, Crash, and Hal. Oh. And uh, Raek. Archie, Syl's, Crash, Hal, and Raek. Nah, that don't have much of a ring to it damn..."
Hal scratches his head, "Right. The Eighty. How's old man Sylveste doing these days anyway?
In the back of his mind, he considers their choice of ship. Slow and safe was nice, but the shrewd halfling had just reminded them that the clock was ticking. So one of the lighthuggers then. "How long will it take us on each craft, if we took a direct route there?"
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It's been two months since you first received word from Danien. Even though the letter was sparse for details, and insisted upon discretion, it was like you could sense the man's frantic urgency through the ink. Two months since you received the letter. Two months that you've traveled the Astral Sea. And now you've finally arrived.
The Eradanispace System is home to one of the most densely settled, economically, and culturally significant colonies of the Toril originators: the planet Yellowstone and its Glitterband.
Yellowstone itself is a world with a dense atmosphere, appearing to be covered in a thick yellowish-orange smog. Parts of it are habitable due to the breathable gases that leak from its deep chasms, which has lead to the construction of large domed cities. It looms beneath your feet, with its swirling tangerine colored atmosphere.
Your destination was never the planet itself, rather one of the many tens of thousands of orbital habitants that make up its Glitterband. Each varies in size, though most are roughly approximate to what the old cities of Toril measured up to. The city-sized habitats also vary wildly in law and culture.
You currently find yourself on Carousel New Winter, waiting within the reception area of one of the Sylveste Institute's research facilities. You were guided here by the instructions set forth in the letter, but you were surprised to see that four others were also invited.
[[ Go ahead and introduce your character as they're let into the waiting area! ]]
Standing, almost seeming to hover in it's long dark robes with a high flaring collar, a creature commonly known as a mind flayer observes the others gathered through pale lidless eyes devoid of pupils, the tentacles of it's expressionless face constantly writhing and undulating in a most unsettling way. It holds in it's long slender arm something reminiscent of a brain against it's body, slowly petting it's moist supple skin, the creature almost seeming to purr with satisfaction over it's masters attention. It carries a shoulder bag of sorts in some alien greyish material, holding at least two thick tomes, a bag suitable for a scholar it would seem.
"Greetings, the name is Arcaelothryx'x, I assume we are all here with the same purpose." You suddenly feel the illithid entering your minds, his voice sending a brief shiver down your spines. "I aplogize for the way I communicate, some find it...unsettling, but it will pass soon enough. And I can assure you I normally abstain from devouring brains of associates." He adds with a brief wet sucking staccato sound coming from the mouth hidden behind the writhing tentacles, alomost like a revolting chuckle.
Raeksalos enters the waiting room after his long journey, more than ready to see what it is that Danien feels is so urgent. When the message had reached him he had been in the Feywild for quite some time, which was a testament to Danien’s knowledge and reach as well as to the message’s importance.
It had taken a while to locate a portal that would bring him to the material plane in a place that harboured Sylveste family passenger ships, and from there board one of their Spelljammer vessels. It had been like a sort of home coming entering Wildspace again after so long, and from there out into the Astral Sea. He had spent so much time in various regions of Wildspace after originally leaving the Astral Sea. It is impossible to tell how long he had lived in the Astral Sea itself before that, as time has no jurisdiction there. It was long enough to suffer the effects of wanderlust, that is all he could really say.
He had stood on the deck of the Spelljammer vessel as it left Toril, for once a passenger and not a part of the crew. He had looked out at the dark expanse and his mind had reached unbidden back to his darkest memory. He had been powerless to stop what happened then, and but for a stroke of luck in coming across a portal, or some innate sense for such things, he would have suffered the same fate as the rest of that particular crew. He would never forget the figure standing in complete silence on the deck of the other Spelljammer ship, seemingly co-ordinating the attack with expert precision despite not a sound coming from it’s octopus like visage.
Back in the present, anyone watching his entrance to the reception area sees a fairly tall lithe elf with long white hair and eyes that almost glow a light blue. His skin is a pale purple and covered in shining white tattoos that make a swirling pattern across his skin. He wears a studded leather jerkin that looks as if it has seen better days, light brown trousers and black boots which rise up to cover his knees. At his waist he wears a belt with a rapier hanging on one side and a pistol on the other, along with various pouches in between. He walks with a fluid grace, even beyond what would normally be expected of his elven kin.
As he moves, his eyes scan the room and the millisecond they come to rest on the Ilithid he becomes visibly wary. And when its voice intrudes into his mind, his hand instinctively goes to the pistol at his side.
“I have known your kind before, and if that is an attempt at humour it is in very poor taste”, he says, glaring at Arcaelothoryx’x, obviously uncomfortable being in the presence of one of the most feared races in the multiverse. A race he has a history with.
“I am Raeksalos, but most simply call me Raek. I am here in answer to an invitation from an acquaintance of mine, Danien. I guess you all got similar messages”, he says by way of an introduction to the others. "Seeing you all makes me even more curious as to what this is about".
(He has a pistol rather than a musket for now)
Resting comfortably and leaned back in one of the reception area's chairs with his legs straight out and feet crossed, a brown hair and brown-eyed human lets out a short laugh. "No no, that was good." He says, still chuckling as he waves away the elf's comment with his hand. "If you need anymore discouragement, my brain is rotten and'll give you a wicked bad tummy ache." After stretching his arms above his head, he pushes himself up against the chair to stand.
He gives a small wave to the others, a smile on his face. "Names Halen Jor, call me Hal."
"A mysterious cry for help, lacking in detail but requesting everything be dropped immediately to come here? Yeah. Got that." His gaze moves to the door leading further into the facility, as if that might manifest something to come through and explain this to them. "Odd bunch to gather up though, hope this isn't a team thing. First impressions tell me the group vibe might be a little rough."
"My apologies Raeksalos of the astral elves..." The deep raspy voice responds. "...admittedly I have yet much to learn before I master the frivolence of jesting. Suffice to say humour has no real significance in illithid society." The voice continues while the mind flayer bows slightly to the astral elf, then turning to the unfortunate human with the rotten brain. "I am sure we are all professionals here..." The voice continues. "...as I am quite certain there is a purpose for all of us to be gathered, logically to assemble a certain set of skills in order to accomplish a task soon to be given to us by our client."
The young man that enters next has done his part to remain someone inconspicuous. He slowly approaches the gathering group, but can't help but stare at the Illithid as he gets closer.
"You guys really are the devil's nightmares." He says quietly as he steps into the gathering throng. "Well, I guess I'm glad that it isn't a trap."
He reaches up and rubs the stubble on his chin after saying this and seems to give the rest of the group a thoughtful look. His hand continues its journey, going up the side of his head and raking its way backward through his hair.
"Well, I guess if it is a trap, I'm glad it hasn't been sprung yet." He amends as he tears his eyes away from the Illithid and winces every time the thing speaks directly into his brain. "Oh dear, is this really going to be how this is? Hal...nice to meetcha...Raek...Archie..."
He whispers the names to himself as he offers his hand around for shakes. He grimaces a little when he shake's Arcaelothyrx'x hand and eyeballs the gross little brain pet with unhidden revulsion.
"Crash Watt at your service. Hopefully the last couple of months have been worth it. Hopefully I'm all the way out here two months away from my past. Professionals? Maybe you guys. Not sure I'm a professional anything. But hey, what are friends for, right? If not to get each other out of trouble..."
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
"Arcaelothoryx'x, not Archie!" The voice emotionlessly corrects the young man with the apparent itch, and as the human offers the illithid his hand, the illithid simply looks down at it for an awkward moment while slowly petting his pet before realizing it is the servitor races' customary greeting ritual. In his extensive studies of the races he now intermingled with he had gathered that this would be a way for them to show they had a peaceful intent by not carrying some crude weapon in this hand. The ritual seemed to assume everyone was right-handed and did not possess more sophisticated means to harm the other, but these less than rational traditions would have to be expected by humans and the other servitor races. Finally the illithid takes the human's hand in his, his palm and four slender fingers cold to the touch. "It appreciates if you pet it." The voice explains as the human admires the brain-like creature in his arm.
Raek slowly moves his hand six inches or so away from his pistol, flexing his fingers as he does so. He is obviously not totally placated by Arcaelothryx'x but is certainly affected by the fact that they apologised.
He finally looks from the Mind Flayer to Halen Jor and then Crash Watt. "Well, I think we can be certain he hasn't invited us to join his book club, Hal. Except for maybe Arcaelothryx'x here", he says motioning at their tomes. "You know, maybe you should use Archie, makes you seem a little less...disturbing".
He takes Crash's hand to shake, pausing a few moments before committing as he directly follows the Illithid.
"I certainly hope you aren't a helmsman with a name like Crash", he says wiping his palm on the back of one of the chairs.
He moves to lean against a wall, where he can see everyone in the room.
"Didn't even know he had a book club, now I'm just offended he hasn't offered me an invite before." Hal's dumb cheesy grin hasn't left his face, even as he moves to shake everyone else's hands as part of the ritual. He doesn't appear to be made uncomfortable at all by the Illithid's presence. He was well aware of their reputation, but he'd learned a long time ago - painfully in fact - to not take beings at face value.
And his arrogance blinded him from recognizing threats, legitimate or otherwise.
"All respect to what you want to be called, if Arcaelothryx'x is the way then it's the way...But I kind of agree here. Archie sounds endearing y'know?"
A slim, dainty figure runs through the door, panic evident in her face as she catches her breath. "Sorry I'm late!" As she recovers her breath, she looks around the room, clearly awestruck by the futuristic architecture, excitement peeking through her harried breaths as she takes it all in.
Once she recovers, she takes a moment to study the other people in the room, a little intimidated by all the imposing figures, before making a double taking once she registers the presence of the illithid among them. "O-Oh... Didn't think I'd see one of your kind here." She quickly moves on however, as her excitement begins to fully express itself.
"Hello everyone! My name is Sylvia Slitherlight. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She speaks in a vaguely aristocratic accent, performing a small curtsy as she introduces herself. "Did you all also receive a letter from a Mr. Damien Sylveste? Because that is why I'm here." She presents the letter she received.
"You find my name disturbing, Raeksalos of the astral elves?" The voice asks while the illithid seems to frown, the tentacles of his head still writhing and undulating, a little faster now as if excited. Not quite expecting an answer, the illithid lowers his gaze after a moment but keeps petting the creature in his arm. During the years of intermingling with the lesser races this was the first time anyone had renamed him. He didn't quite grasp the mentioned concept of endearment. It seemed to be how the servitor races ensured loyalty, by appealing to emotions, but it lacked any sense of cold logic.
The thoughts of the illithid are intrerrupted by the slim female entering the reception area. "Greetings Ms. Slitherlight, I am Arcaelothoryx'x...although it has been suggested that Archie would be less disturbing and more endearing." The dark raspy voice explains as the illithid bows slightly to the newcomer. "My kind is indeed not often seen intermingling this way. I would assume we are all here to assist Mr. Sylveste in some endeavour, but there has also been mention of a some sort of book club." The voice emotionlessly continues.
After your introductions to each other have been made, the door opens slowly and a figure walks in. It's not Danien as you might have been expecting, but rather a middle-aged halfling with short brown hair. They were spectacles on their face, and their clothes are far too fine to be a mere servant. You notice that one of their arms has a metallic sheen to it: a prosthetic. "Ah, Danien's guests. Welcome."
He moves out of the way, motioning you into the hallway he just came from. "Second door on your left, less prying eyes in there." He says flatly, staring at some unseen object in a corner of the reception room.
After you've all moved to the new destination he follows you in and closes the door behind him, locking it promptly. "I'm afraid that Danien is not here, he is currently...Unavailable, a fact which you may be required to solve." The room itself is a relatively modest study, compared to the grandeur you might be used to from families as wealthy as the Sylvestes. Shelves filled with books line every wall, neatly organized by subject, author, and publish date. There's plenty of cushioned chairs and seats around the large room, but a central table with simple wood
chairs dominates the room.
"The details of your summons can be found in the documentation there." The halfling says, gesturing towards the table.
A letter sits upon the table, in the same handwriting as the ones you'd already received.
"I'm pleased that you've all made it to Yellowstone, and I'm sorry to have not been there in person, and for all the secrecy.
I don't even know how to begin. Perhaps it is best to simply say that everything we know and hold dear is under threat. There was always a nagging feeling in the back of my mind concerning the historical timing of our known cultures. How there's such a large gap between the historical beginnings of our oldest cultures and the end of the dead ones we've found so far. Worlds sterilized, dead gods adrift in their systems, ruins of their civilization buried under so many years of time.
Of course the mainstream view for many years has been one of indifference - "so what if all life across the material plane was wiped in some cataclysm and unfathomable amount of time ago, why would it ever happen again?" Ignorance. Myopic stupidity. It's happening again, now.
In my notes, you'll find records of the observations I've made in recent months. Two known stars on the edge of what we've settled so far that have simply vanished. Reports of exploratory ships that have gone missing in the same area. No survivors. Never any survivors. They've been reported as victims of accidents, or piracy. Ignorance.
As influential as my family is, our reputation has been tarnished as of late - I'm sure you all know why. I have already been laughed out of more than one meeting with our worlds' leaders. I need more evidence, a solid case. Sending more exploratory ships to the vanished stars is suicide, I fear you would only meet the same fate as those already lost.
I believe the clues to the information we seek can be found on Resurgam, in the Pavonispace System. Colonies were originally founded by our institute for archaeological purposes, unearthing the remains of the Amaratin: one of those long dead cultures we've discovered. But that was a long time ago. Generations have passed, and attitudes have changed. We let control of Resurgam slip through our fingers, and its new leaders are forging ahead with a plan to alter the world into something more habitable. A process which will destroy the evidence we so desperately need.
I've gone ahead of you to delay them as best I can. Charter a ship - not one of ours - and meet me there as soon as possible. We need to find record of what happened to the Amaratin, and quickly, before this coming cataclysm reaches our homes.
Kallum will help you find whatever you need, my resources are open to you. And if we succeed, I promise to elevate you to a level of wealth you could only dream of."
After you finish reading the letter, the halfing clears his throat and speaks up. "I have been instructed to assist you in any way I can. Once you have found the ship and supplies you require, I have an account unconnected to the Sylveste Institute by which I can pull funds to acquire said ship and supplies.
"Oh, my bad Archi...Archaeopteryx. And you wouldn't believe how often I've been told that!" Crash says with some enthusiasm before he realizes it's a brain laying there waiting for scritches. He waits moment...then reaches out to gently caress it with his fingers. "Oooh...what a uhm...lovely creature..."
He smiles, turning his attention from the Illithid and its strange little friend, and is glad to be distracted by Raek.
"Oh me? Nope! No helmsman here! Or at least I hope not. Can't imagine the insurance companies would like that..."
Hearing Arcaelothoryx embrace Archie as a possible pseudonym, Crash smiles and reaches over to clap him on his shoulder.
"Yeah Archie! See, that's not so bad!" He says with pure joy before giving a revulsed glance to the brain-cat-chihuahua pet. "We're going to be best buds I bet! Crash and Archie, the dynamic duo! I can be the Batknight to your Starling! It'll be great! There'll even be a song like...like this! Let me tell you 'bout Arrr-chie! He likes to laugh and play and pet brains all day..."
He ceases his crap attempt at singing when the door opens and they're guided inside, into the small room with all the books, where be begins tracing his fingertips along spines before sitting down and having a look at the letter.
"Guys, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but..." He says, taking a deep breath and then an exasperated exhalation... "But I am completely unqualified for this shit. Archie, you're clearly the expert here. What are we dealing with? If someone is going to be the brains of our Batknight operation it's going to have to be you. Wait wait wait, no, not Batknight. We'll be like Watlock and Sherson. You're really the brains of the operation and I'm just the pretty face. Yeah."
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
"Good to have you with us, Sylvia Slitherlight", Raek says as the excitable newcomer introduces herself, before the halfling arrives to take them through to another room. Thankfully interrupting Crash who had decided to sing for some reason. As they walk, he stays behind Arcaelothryx'x, making sure he has eyes on the Illithid at all times.
"It is not your name that is disturbing, although the echo at the end might be considered foreboding by some", he says as they walk. "It doesn't matter, your name is your name", he concludes as they enter the new room that appeared to be a study.
He contemplates the content of the letter, and the sheer scale of the threat Danien was bringing to their attention.
"I can see why he summoned me. Identifying, tracking and nullifying threats is kind of what I have been doing in recent years", he says, his gaze still focussed on Arcaelothryx'x. "But the sheer scale of this...", he says trailing off.
He stands lost in thought, waiting to hear what the others make of it.
The illithid finds himself concerned over the illogical and quite nonsensical comments by the human appropriately called Crash, but this was to be expected of the frivolous servant races. The illithid bows to the halfling as the team is collected and hovers after him into the small library, remaining standing with his pet in his arm as the halfling speaks. As the others finishes with the letter it lifts from the table and floats over to the illithid, his pale lidless eyes studying it's contents. He was aware of the disturbing rumours of stars vanishing, something that should be of great concern of all species in the astral space. With all of existance in the balance they all would need to come together as an efficient team. It was hard to imagine who would oppose an expedition to save all life from extinction but there could of course be those ignorant of this threat, or maybe even doomsday cults wanting to usher in this dark fate. "We will have to put emotions aside and focus on the task at hand." The voice says as the letter floats back and lands on the table again. "Where can we charter a ship?" The voice asks as the illithid hovers along the bookshelves.
History regarding Resurgam: 8
History regarding Amaratin: 14
Investigation of the library to quickly find some litterature on any subjects he rolls poorly on: 17
Another roll regarding Resurgam if any found litterature would give advantage: 12
Another roll regarding Amaratin if any found litterature would give advantage: 11
"...Oh my." The news of the disappearance of stars disturbs her, as it would any reasonable person.
And yet she simply cannot help her excitement. "A mysterious threat that might end all known life in universe? How exciting! This is shaping up to be quite the adventure." It takes her a moment to realize how what she just said might sound. "Err, not that such information isn't incredibly distressing, of course."
Knowing that their shared patron is paying for their supplies and ship, Sylvia asks the halfling: "Excuse me sir, if Mr. Sylveste will be providing us with funding, then what are the limits on what we can purchase?" Her mind is already running with possibilities, as she thinks on what they can purchase.
Hal lets out a low whistle, "damn. I woulda preferred the book club invite."
The magnitude of what was just put before was unthinkable, enough to even give him pause for a moment. After gauging the reactions of the rest of the room, his confidence catches back up. "Don't sell yourself short Crash, Danien's a smart guy, I'm sure he had good reasons for specifically choosing us to go do the hero thing."
He watches the illithid wander the room, scouring for information. "Let us know if you find anything good Archie," he comments before turning on the halfling.
"Got a question Kallum. Maybe I'm just bad at paying attention, what happened to the Sylveste family to embarrass them so?"
CONTEXT - This knowledge is well known, information that rocked the newsphere when the scandal broke -
The Eighty
Calvin Sylveste, father to Danien was an avid augmentist, deep in research involved with supplementing humanoid capabilities with permanently worn arcane devices. More than anything, he sought a pathway to immortality outside of lichdom, instead wishing to transfer ones mind into an artificial construct that could be expanded at will.
He rounded up 80 volunteers, himself included and all from distinguished families to be subjected to a process he had devised. The speed and violence of the transfer would destroy the biological brain - though none of the volunteers cared what would happen to their physical bodies afterwards, so no disagreements were had. They expected to rise to a greater height: Eighty above the rest of the mortal Material Plane.
After the experiment concluded, everything appeared to be working correctly. Calvin Sylveste had succeeded. But by one year afterwards, something was going wrong. The artificial minds started freezing, or entering paradoxical loops and imploding. There was a conceptual flaw in Sylveste's design, and only a few of the Eighty survived, Calvin among them. The entire event had the Sylveste senior deemed a mass murderer, permanently marring the family's reputation.
"There are currently three ships in port capable of making the journey the Resurgam," Kallum says, procuring a piece of parchment from within his waistcoat. "The Storm Bird, a freighter owned and operated by one Antoinette Bax. It would be the slowest, but the crew will be relatively normal compared to the other two craft. A much lower probability of funny business occurring.
"The other two are the fastest class of craft available for long journeys such as yours, lighthuggers. Nostalgia for Infinity, an Ultra controlled ship, lead by one Captain John Brannigan. And the last..." He sighs. "Spiders. Another lighthugger by the name of Nightshade, a Conjoiner ship. I have no information on its captain."
CONTEXT -
Conjoiners
A faction of humanoids dedicated to the advancement of species through absolute unification. They implement arcane powered augments to allow for direct telepathic transfer of thoughts and experiences between all individual Conjoiner minds. By outsides, they are pejoratively referred to as spiders.
Ultranauts
A faction of humanoids that serve and rule aboard lighthuggers. They spend most of their time in the Astral Sea, lending them extremely long lives compared to those who dwell within Wildspace Systems. There is no unifying political or philosophical structure behind Ultra society - each crewed lighthugger is its own microcosm. They are extremely isolated from the rest of society, and do not appear to even form close association with other Ultra crews.
Not much about the planet Resurgam would come to Arcaelothryx'x's mind, save for what they recall of the discovery of the Amaratin. The only mention of the planet to be found on Danien's shelves is within a dozen page loosely bound article detailing the high notes of the finding. None of it is particularly new knowledge to the illithid. Danien himself chartered the expedition to Resurgam on a hunch, establishing a research colony on the desert world.
The Amaratin were found to be a bird-like species that once inhabited the world, similar to the Aarakocra, but incapable of flight. This was featured heavily in their mythology, which claimed that their god Birdmaker traded them their intelligence for flight - a pact that if broken, would be rescinded. Archaeologists were able to gather that the extinct species were intensely social creatures, so much so that isolation from the flock would inflict severe psychological repercussions.
All Amaratin artefacts and ruins are present in the rock layer below a hair thin blackened line, which researchers presume to be a marker of the Event, a worldwide cataclysm that lead to the destruction of their species.
The halfling almost glares at Hal, saying simply, "the Eighty" before turning to address Sylvia's question.
"Whatever you think you may require that can be procured quickly. Time is of the essence in this matter."
"Oh, Sylvia!" Crash said, sticking his hand out to give her the proper greeting. "Crash Watt, explorer extraordinaire! You may have heard of me! I'm the better half of Archie and Crashfunkle. We're kinda under the radar and kinda a big deal. Gonna fix this whole problem right up. Oh, but I guess that's why you're here too huh? Wait a minute..."
If someone getting an idea could simultaneously look like passing a kidney stone and a light bulb gently flickering, that's how Crash looks as some sort of epiphany, if you could call it that, surges through his mind.
"No, no no no...I got it. I got it. I hard of this band one time...yeah! And we're like that! Check it! Archie, Syl's, Crash, and Hal. Oh. And uh, Raek. Archie, Syl's, Crash, Hal, and Raek. Nah, that don't have much of a ring to it damn..."
DM of AURYN: The Measure of Devotion - Escape from New York
Hal scratches his head, "Right. The Eighty. How's old man Sylveste doing these days anyway?
In the back of his mind, he considers their choice of ship. Slow and safe was nice, but the shrewd halfling had just reminded them that the clock was ticking. So one of the lighthuggers then. "How long will it take us on each craft, if we took a direct route there?"