Lair of the Weaver

[Eclecticon]

We're going into full-bore psychodrama mode for a little while here.  Have some fun with it - explore the ways that the Shadow is falling on your character in particular, and don't be afraid to dig them a little deeper.  It'll make it all the more satisfying if they manage to claw their way out again. 

Make any rolls you like - AP will be gained as normal.  At a suitably dramatic point, I'll ask you to roll Insight against TN 18 to break free of the illusion.  Otherwise, any roll that turns up a will let you roll Wisdom (again, at TN 18) to break loose. 

I think I'll put a thread up for what Arbogast is going through as well.  It's not required reading, if that seems a little too self-indulgent. 

[Eclecticon]

I set this up hoping that you would inflict all manner of psychological self-harm upon your characters, including things that never would have occurred to me. 

Gentlemen, I am not disappointed. 

[GandalfOfBorg]

We aim to please .. gamers are masochist at the deepest level, how else do you beat Super Mario Bros.?

[Eclecticon]

Scornfully, regretfully, their hearts resounding with wrath or tears, each according to their nature and that of the wounds they carry on their hearts, the companions awaken from their ensorcelled dreaming.  Together they lie, enmeshed in fine, dark threads.  To one side, near to Grimbeorn and Hathcyn, crouches Radagast, his russet light forsaken in favour of a dim bluish glow that suggests day more than it illuminates and shines corpse-pale from his skin and theirs.

He sees them begin to stir and puts forward a warning hand.  "Have a care," he whispers.  "For I am certain that the Weaver sleeps but lightly even here, and she will stir all too fast if she feels the breaking of her webs!  Go cautiously.  I will help wherever I can."


As you might imagine, all the webs in Tylquin's lair are connected, and every time you move through them, or break them, you'll need to make A Stealth roll.  One failure won't wake her, but there's a certain threshold that will.  To keep the tension up, I won't say what that threshold is. 

[Eclecticon]

With Radagast lending his magical assistance to keep Tylquin asleep, the TN is only 14.

Let's do some rolling:

Arbogast

1d12 : 3, total 3
Rolled 2d6 : 1, 4, total 5

Esgalwen

1d12 : 2, total 2
Rolled 3d6 : 2, 4, 1, total 7

Grimbeorn

1d12 : 10, total 10

Hathcyn

1d12 : 11, total 11
Rolled 2d6 : 4, 5, total 9

[Eclecticon]

Oooo, that's... not great. But everyone can succeed with a Hope point. Arbogast will spend one.

[Telcontar]

  hathcyn failed his insight roll, what are the results of that?

[Eclecticon]

Insight
This dice roll has been tampered with!
Rolled 3d6 : 5, 3, 3, total 11
This dice roll has been tampered with!
Rolled 1d12 : 12, total 12

I assure you, he did not!

[GandalfOfBorg]

  Use the 

[Telcontar]

  lol..... i missread that. i thought I rolled an 

Lol

I'll have something up about it.

[tomcat]

Esgalwen spends the

[Eclecticon]

That's spends from everyone except Hathcyn (so far).  I'm going to wait a bit and see what Tom posts, then move things along. 

[Telcontar]

  Ok all caught up. I took some liberty with my  to reveal something if that meets with the Loremaster's approval.


"It is good that you are with us Radagast. Here in this dark place you are revealed to me, a light shines in you brighter than even the Eldar, but the Spider is blind to you. Wizards are a strange folk, but glad I am you are here in this place."

[Eclecticon]

"She is?" Radagast blinks in surprise.  "Well, yes, I suppose that she is.  And yes, I certainly suppose that we are!  Now, as for being in this place, let us have these webs away from you..." And with that, he bends his back and helps Hathcyn free of the dark, sticky strands.   

When finally all are free and able to stand (though perhaps not comfortably, for the rough ceiling of the passage in which they find themselves is quite low) they are able to take stock of their surroundings.  Here, deep in the darkness, the black webs seem to drink in even the wan light of Radagast's subtle magics, turning the passage into a nightmare warren of seemings and shadows.  "How deep did we fare before we woke?" Esgalwen asks, ever seeking to reckon her path. 

"Not far," comes the Wizard's answer.  "In fact, we are barely two dozen paces from the entrance.  A frightful thing it was, to see you all at once seem to fall to madness and rush into the darkness!  And a more frightful difficulty would it have been to free you all without Tylquin waking, had you not so bravely shaken yourselves free of her snares!" 

He points the way forward with his staff, a feather dropping from its carven tip to fall silently into the webs that criss-cross the floor.  "We have come through the darkest of her weavings, but our task is not yet done.  Go on, friends." 

With barely a shared glance, the Fellowship slowly creeps forward.  The way is not the labyrinth that they feared, for few but the desperate and mad would seek the home of the Weaver, and her defences have likely never been tested by so doughty a company.  The passage winds right and then left, narrowing at the last before expanding again into a cavern broad and dark enough that Radagast's light at first seems not to be shed at all.  For a tense minute, the companions crouch, stone-blind at the narrow place before the darkness shades into a deep blue. 

In this almost-light, they see the full expanse of the cavern, perhaps twenty paces across.  Every surface is thickly-shrouded in black webs, but they can just make out five strands, thick as young trees and freely stretching from floor to ceiling.  In between these hang clumps of web, each one perhaps large enough to enfold a child.  In the centre, glistening as if covered with a fine spray of water, something sits, web-shrouded, upon a rock like a plinth, and above it all hangs the still form of Tylquin herself, her many eyes shut as she dreams her strange and hideous dreams, her hair like that of the Elves, though lank and hanging down in knotted and unruly locks. 

"Is that..." breathes Arbogast.

"It is that which has been stolen from Duskwater." Radagast confirms.  "Now all that must be done is to steal it away from her." 

[Eclecticon]

"Right, then!" hisses Hathcyn.  "You, who she cannot sense, creep forward and..."

But Grimbeorn is already shaking his head and indicating Radagast's face.  The Wizard's eyes have closed and his face is visibly strained, his breath shallow.  "This is our task now." 

Esgalwen, her eyes still casting about the chamber, jabs her chin at the pillars and clumps.  "And what of these?" 

"Treasures brought by agents of the Shadow," Arbogast guesses, "for to buy her allegiance.  The tall strands - and see how they bind together the webs above and below! - I think to be an anchor for the spells that keep away Tauler and his kind." 

He looks at her with what may be a spark of hope in his eyes.  "Destroy them, and I think Tauler will join us before too long."