thacO: August 2014

Madness at Gardmore Abbey -session 6

played Aug. 6

Into the Arcanian Lab of Vandomar

As the barrier falls a freezing gust of wind sweeps down the stairs, turning your hair to ice and freezing your breath in your lungs (everyone is slowed, save ends). Past the melted wall you see that you are in the top room of the tower, lit from above with a high frosted window in the ceiling. Inside the room stand four long tables that hold the frosty remains of female orcs and humans. Parts of each of them - a nose, an arm, breasts - have been surgically removed and other parts reattached in their place. Pots of flesh-coloured paint, paintbrushes in turpentine, needles and twine rest between the bodies.

Square blocks of ice line the walls, each trapping the frozen form of some preserved creature. A piles of scrolls lies in the cabnet by the north wall.
Above the blocks of ice dozens of clocks have been hung on the white wall. Each of them ticks and tocks at a slightly different rhythm, creating a maddening cacophony. Each of them is set at a different time, and the hands do not move.

A humanoid thing in gray robes emblazoned with the platinum dragon symbol of Bahamut stoops over one of the tables. Its withered face is pale blue, and dozens of tiny icicles hang from its beard. Whenever it moves, its body crackles as layers of frost break and freeze again.
The creature is not surprised to see you. 'Ah! Visitors!' it says.
Its words form no steam in the bitter air. 'No doubt you have come to help me save my love.' The creature's cold gaze lingers over you, taking in your figures hungrily. 'Perfect!' It exclaims. 'Absolutely perfect! What a lovely time we will have, so nice of you to drop by. Let us remember this moment forever.

4 coldspawn mummies
Vandomar (lvl 10 controller)

-The arcanian smiles and raises his hand in the air and summons a miniature blizzard of cold air and snow. He bares his teeth and gestures at the stopped yet ticking clocks and the blizzard ball crackles with electric energy, sparking off the timepieces and into the four frozen bodies lying on the operating tables. The currant jerks them into life and they stagger to their feet, constructs of cold and death.
-'Always in such a rush!' he shakes his head in disappointment.
'You are all so... so... Alive! so Virile! Gorgeously, vivaciously, startlingly ... Vital!'
-He gazes, spellbound with longing, at a trickle of moisture glistening on Eliasis’s cheek - sweat condensed from the freezing cold room. 'This is something that MUST be preserved. For Ever!' A little bit of icy drool falls from his slack mouth and his face is all twisted up with an unquenchable hunger.
-He brings up his arms and takes his staff in both hands. 'PRESERVE THEM!' He roars and a blizzard of grey hail erupts over you.
-The arcanian's small black eyes notices Skinny ,purses his lips in surprise - and it gives him an idea. He shuffles back to the other side of the room, leaning on his Staff and approaches a block of ice where a small ivory card is encased. He speaks to the ice, as if he has completely forgotten you all. A small projection of a playing card manifests beside Vandomar, swirling just above the floor.