Arcanum RPG

Pug Buckle blinked. A lot had happened, very fast. He'd missed most of it. He turned around. He turned around again. He couldn't work out where the house had gone. He was sure there had been a house there.

When the bear appeared, he had fallen over, watching as the dwarf did unsettling things to the squealing beast. The men, dwarf and woman around him were barking orders at each other, the one from the carraige was muttering to himself. Pug felt he should say something.

He raised himself precariously to his feet, rubbed his shoulder and coughed for attention. For a moment the others turned and looked at him. Pug, gathering all his powers of expression managed to point out to them that, only a few moments before, there had been WALLS. Hargh.

They didn't seem to appreciate having the absence of walls pointed out to them and Pug sat back down.

 

Hannah snapped out of her trance when she felt her skin crawling. There was some sort of magickal exchange between the two mages, and it made her hair stand on end. Then a gun was pulled. Things were getting out of hand. The half-orc started demanding answers, then the half-ogre seemed about to say something important, but didn't.
"GENTLEMEN!" she shouted, and recieved everyone's full attention. "Gentlemen. Please. We needn't resort to violence." She waited a few moments, then continued. "It would seem we have been victims of some cruel trickery, and have been magicked away to... to somewhere. Or... or perhaps some-when. Does anyone here have experience with... the arcane?" She looked to Viktor and Zalakar and affected her most convincing damsel-in-distress act. "Please sirs, any answers you could give would be MOST helpful, and I would be DEEPLY thankful for any keen insights you may provide..."

 

Gregory was given one of the bear's eyes as a reward by Viktor. As he contemplated what exactly he'd do with such a gift, the mass of mourners began bickering, everyone's stress a result of the grand estate being removed, while the stone sarcophagus remained.
Ignoring the orders barked by Zalakar, he delicately felt in his pocket to make sure the stone pipe he had just recently finished was indeed still in one piece.
Huzzah!
Taking out some tobacco, Gregory filled the bowl of his new implement halfway. He then struck a match and cupped his hand over the bowl to encourage the flame to light the cured leaves.
It would indeed seem that we are in the same location as before, however, we may not be in the same frame of time...
He took a short puff, as the pain from his broken ribs was still present.
We were told by the good butler that we had an hour. Due to the strong magicks that sent us to this era, my watch has stopped. Or perhaps it was my tussle with the dearly departed beast. Whatever the case, we appear to be safe for the time being. I don't doubt that this is indeed an overly complicated test, and I also believe this is just the beginning! We need to work together to get through this. While our differences in perspective may set us apart, it is our common interest that will win the day.

 

Just as Viktor was about to set the damn nobler-than-thou on fire, everyone insisted on ruining the atmosphere. With all this gun flailing, talking and, worst of all, logic, he simply lost his concentration. Bah.

He let go of Zalakar (whose robe now had a pair of hand-shaped burns on its back), squatted down next to Pug and started rocking back and forth. Decided to add a few things to what was already said, too.

"Whatever happened here is hardly the most impressive display of magick ever performed. Hardly." - he emphasised, looking specifically at John. "I say we assume it's a dumb test, or challenge - or whatever, really - till the end of the hour or so of "holding vigil" and remain here fighting off all the bears, wyverns and whatever else is thrown at us.

If nothing happens after that, we allow our ill-mannered chanter to conjure the old bastard's soul and demand some answers. Assuming he is skilled enough for the job, which I sincerely doubt."

He paused his rocking, leaned towards Pug and conspiratorially whispered on his ear - "Personally, though, I also think that walls."

 

Suitably chastised, Zalakar sulkily expains that there are no ghosts or signs of magickal energy at all. If anything it is one of the most unmagickal places he's ever been.

The 'sarcophagus' turns out to be solid stone and, after an hour, nothing has changed except the bear's blood soaking the ground begins to turn foul in the summer heat and gather flies.

 

"Well then!" Hannah broke the silence and hopped down from her seat on the sarcophagus. All this waiting around was not her style. "Since there appear to be no answers forthcoming from him," she pointed to the sarcophagus, "I see no reason to stay here. I shall be on my way back to Stillwater, assuming it hasn't been spirited away. Perhaps some answers will present themselves."
With that, she started off into the wilderness that had been a road a short while ago. She had only gone a few steps however, when she experienced a moment of doubt; the wilderness was looking AWFULLY wild. Stopping, she called over her shoulder, "If anyone would care to join me, I wouldn't mind the company." She walked on without looking back, though she did her best to sway her hips alluringly. Bears and the like did not concern her overmuch, but the idea of slashing through overgrown foliage with her fine new rapier made her cringe. That was a task better left to someone... else.

 

Viktor smacked his lips a few times, stood up, yawned, stretched his legs a bit, scratched his head, sighed and shared his thoughts with the remaining companions.

"Well, the agreed hour has long since passed. If the estate was to return, it would be here by now. That being said, I agree with the woman. No point in staying here anymore. I'm off to Stillwater as well. As should we all."

With all honesty, something told Viktor that they will find neither Stillwater nor a sign that it ever existed. He didn't see much of a point in going necessarily there, but what mattered was that it was the closest place away from here. The magicklessness of this place was becoming more perceptible by the minute and it was starting to give Viktor a headache.

He began to follow Hannah but stopped after a few steps as a new idea formed in his head. He turned around and approached Pug Buckle.

"Hey Pug. Viktor go town. Go Still-Wa-Ter. Go with Viktor?" He waited a few moments for the half-ogre to show the slightest hint of comprehension. He received none, which was slightly discouraging, but continued nonetheless: "Pug biiig. Pug strooong. Viktor light. Viktor piggyback Pug, eh?"

 

Pug looked at the cloaked man quizzically. He opened his mouth. He couldn't think of an appropriate grunt. He closed it again. He wracked his brain for his words. He found them nestling behind the repressed memories.

He looked up at Viktor, whose paitience in the circumstances was astounding. Pug smiled. Walls!

Victor smiled encouragingly. "Yes... let's go find... walls?"

WALLS!

Pug folded the mage in to his arms and marched after Hannah.

"This. Was. Not. Quite. What. I. Meant."

 

It was slow going. Hannah was by no means accustomed to travel through woodland, the garden at the Clayborne estate being the closest thing she had previously experienced. And this particular woodland could not be further from the fastidiously maintained walkways of said garden. The trees were much larger than those she had encountered in the area prior to the Event (that was the word her brain ascribed to the magickal trans-location). They seemed especially designed to hinder her progress, with their low hanging branches and protruding root systems, and their height being more than sufficient to befuddle her sense of direction. Nevertheless, she pressed on, at times climbing over fallen logs, slithering through matrices of interwoven branches, and suffering scratches to her face and hands.

At length, she emerged from the clutches of the trees into the bright afternoon daylight. She stood on the edge of a large flowery meadow. In the distance were the familiar peaks of the Stonewall Range, snow-covered and gleaming in the sun. She did not spend long appreciating their beauty however, as something much closer was pressing on her attentions; In the midst of the meadow stood a herd of wild beasts, similar in shape to elk or moose, but substantially larger than either, standing 8 to 10 feet at the shoulder with antlers of truly epic proportions!
"Great... GODS!" she exclaimed. Hannah was truly awestruck.
Seemingly in response to her noisy interjection, the whole herd of beasts froze, turning their heads in her direction. "Oh my..."
She began slowly backpedaling towards the tree line. Surely, their preposterously large antlers would prevent any pursuit into the woods.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by an ear-splitting shriek. The herd turned and bolted in the opposite direction, their feet creating a sound like rolling thunder and causing the ground to tremble. Then the source of the shriek manifested itself; a shadow passed over Hannah, accompanied by the sound of giant wings beating the air. Looking up, she beheld a gargantuan winged monster, all black and scaly. These were as many details as she could make out, as it was moving at a fantastic speed.

Swooping down from the sky, the monster descended upon the herd and snatched up one of the huge mammals in its mighty talons.
WHOOSH... WHOOSH... WHOOSH! It pummeled the air with its wings, rapidly regaining altitude. With another horrifying shriek, the monster disappeared behind some hills and all was silent again.

Hannah decided she had seen enough, and turned to flee back into the woods. Escape was denied her however, as just at that moment there came a clamorous racket of rustling leaves and snapping tree limbs. She drew her sword, sure she was about to be devoured by some primeval abomination. She took up a fighting stance and watched in terror as out from the tree line emerged... Pug.

Hannah's shoulders slumped with relief, the point of her sword falling to the meadow floor.

 

***********************
Hannah is now level 3.
Gregory is now level 3.
Viktor is now level 3.
Pug is now level 3.
***********************

 

The others arrived in the wake of the massive half-ogre, and soon there were six standing in the meadow. Under different circumstances, the meadow might have seemed quite lovely. But as it was in the location that should have been occupied by the small town of Stillwater, it caused the party a great deal of displeasure.
It quickly became apparent that, like the forest, the meadow was populated with strangely large vegetation. There were flowers standing shoulder high with blooms eight inches wide, and their sweet floral aroma was especially pungent.
The standard variety of shrubbery was present, kaduras and ginkas among other less notable types, but they were more robust than usual. Their leaves were large and green, their stems oozing sap.
Buzzing amongst the greenery were bees of queer aspect. Their bodies and wings were elongated, and while most were of the ordinary black-and-yellow coloration, some bore stripes of red, orange and even light blue! When these buzzed past her face, Hannah felt a slight tickle under her skin.
On the whole the meadow was a pleasant place, but foreign. There were no signs of any human habitation. The afternoon was getting on, and ere long the sun would be sinking behind the Stonewall Range.

 

John stood some distance away from the others and observed the strange meadow before him. Or, rather, he observed something standing in the meadow. The girl, Hannah; she obviously belonged to the so called upper class of society, a feat which under normal circumstances would've rendered her a target for his anger with human society, but there was something about her that made him feel strangely attracted to her. She did look human at the first glance, but there was something else there as well, something... different.

He caught himself with staring at her in a too obvious way and immedietly turned his gaze elsewhere, lest somebody would catch him in the act and get the wrong idea; he was after all of orcish heritage, and his fellow travellers were after all racist bigots.

 

Zalakar whimpers like a puppy and shakes like a leaf in the wind. He is staring at the sky.

Following his gaze, you see something impossible, something terrible. None of you have ever seen one before but, even from this great distance, there is no mistaking it: A great dragon.

The glorious monster passes from the west to the east, leaving you all with a sense of mingled loss as well as relief. It was big enough to have swallowed everyone at once without a glass of water.

 

"I say, was that..." *twitch* "...a dragon?"

A muffled laugh.

"Yes, of course it was, why wouldn't it be?"

The world begins to swirl around Viktor.

Oooh, it's so clear now. I'm still in the asylum, am I not? Yes! Ye-heh-es! Just another delusion, isn't it? Oh Viktor, you naughty trickster! Fooled me yet again!

You did, didn't you, you goddamn son of a disfigured whore.

I hate you. I LOVE YOU. I late you! I hooove you?

He raises his hands for attention.

"It all makes sense! It does, it finally does!"

Everyone begins to eye him suspiciously, some instinctively placing their hands on the covers of their weapons.

There in the trees, a Giant or two, or twenty, and there, on the right, a whole pack of demons! There may be. There must be. Oh, how I love these episodes. Shall we play a game, Viktor? Oh yes, let us, let's!

Someone, the mage's vision too blurry to recognise which one of his companions it was, approached him and told him in a lowered voice that it's best not be act so loudly in the open. It was all lost on him, he didn't even hear the words.

With control lost altogether, he shakes his raised clenched fists as little flickers begin to dance on his shoulders and shouts at the top of his lungs: "Hey dragon, where ya going, afraid of Viktor!? Fiends, nightmares, all of you, we're over HERE, come and GET US, ah-hahahah-HA!"

 

Seemingly drawn to the sound of his voice, a large, bright-blue bee alights upon Viktor's upraised fist.

The dragon hardly seems interested in the shouting of a creature too small to make even a light snack, and does not deign to reappear.

All eyes are drawn to the bee as it begins to emit a nimbus of blue light, barely visible in the afternoon sun. Everyone holds their breath, waiting to see what happens next...

 

The manor disappearing? Fine, he could handle it, he'd heard rumors about similar magical feats before. Stillwater disappearing, leaving a meadow with blue bees behind? That's pushing it, but he could still cope.

But a dragon?
...

Instinctively, John pulled his gun and discharged it at the dragon (or, rather, in the general direction of the dragon which had by now flown a great distance away from the party). Five loud bangs echoed across the meadow, but the monster didn't even turn around to investigate. This, however, didn't put an end to Johns rage. Furious, he looked for something else to shoot and found to his great satisfaction the blue bee which had landed on Viktors hand. He took aim and fired, scoring a direct hit.

What happened thereafter, though, was far beyond any of his expectations...

 

Gregory was the last to emerge into the great meadow, about to mention a peculiarity he noticed while passing the sarcophagus; his watch started to work again in close proximity to the stone, and once he was past it the ambient magickal aura of the the area brought it to a halt. Then, he noticed the dragon. He froze in place. He had only ever heard stories of dragons, and knew there were none left save their smaller, less intelligent kin; the wyverns.
This was proof, then. They were indeed in the past, a past far more vibrant and magickal than he had been lead to believe in his studies.
These strange bees, seemingly of every chromatic arrangement, had a magickal aura as well.
Technology uses the physical properties of nature to allow those practiced in the workings of the world to create effective tools and potent cures. Magick bends the physical laws governing the world to adapt it to the caster's will. Until he had seen the bees, Gregory was certain that magick was a tool of the sapient mind.
Viktor was having a bit of a breakdown. Light began to dance around him, and a bee landed on one of his clenched fists. It began to glow brightly, and John, after discharging five rounds into the horizon, leveled his gaze at the magickal insect and fired. A clean shot!
What?...By Alberich's beard!

 

Stillwater was (is? will have been going to be?) named after the deep pools along the river, slowing the current to a placid crawl. Now (then? before? was now before then?) it is a rapidly tumbling mountain river.

Yet, where the pool should have (going to have should be) the earth rumbles and churns.

An enormous digging machine screws itself out of the earth and settles in the ruins of the once virgin meadow like an house-sized fungus. It rumbles and growls, hissing steam as it powers down.

A portal opens and a stairway unfolds to the ground with clockwork precision. From the dark doorway, a squat figure appears and descends the stairway. It is a dwarf, wearing crystal spectacles and an elaborate toolbelt.

He smiles broadly at the sight of the gobsmacked travellers and raises a hand in greeting. He says a single word and, although his accent is thick, you can understand it.

"Linkenberry?"

 

Hannah leveled her sword at the newcomer. "Who are you?" she demanded. "How did you find us?" Her eyes narrowed. "Did my father send you?"

 

"Manoch darran zayboollen hach manay?" The mysterious dwarf says. He twiddles with a device on his belt and an amplified, stilted voice emits from it.

Can you understand my words? He proceeds to garble guttural syllables which are then translated through the device.

My name is Eirik of the Iron-Clan. My family has carried a message down through the centuries and with it an oath to deliver it here today. Today I shall fulfill that oath. Message follows.

He starts to chant, oral dwarven epic style, but the translation is perfectly mundane, technobabble notwithstanding.

Hello everyone! Sorry about all the subterfuge. Firstly, let me assure you that your money is waiting for you in 1861, and you won't have to wait millennia to get it. Unfortunately, the maiden voyage of my temporal backwash engine has encountered an unexpected interference pattern, (namely the cyclic peak of magickal field strength and ebb of technological field strength some three millennia prior to your current temporal co-ordinates) and I am forced to recruit aid from a period of specific techno-magickal homeostasis in the person of your good selves. To return to the date of your inheritance, simply transport the magnetic meteorite to the lair of Bellerogrim (as it is known in your time) and there bring it within five yards of a vital dragon egg. This will create sufficient interference for my instruments to detect from my current temporal co-ordinates and thus facilitating my return to my own time, and you to yours. I have complete confidence in your abilities, my friends, though your abilities and our friendship may not yet be apparent to you now. Once again, my apologies for the inconvenience. Yours truly, Professor Roland P. Linkenberry. Faraday District, Vendigroth.

His song sung, the dwarf retreats up the staircase and the portal irises closed behind him. A cacaphony heralds the drilling machine's activation and, growling and spitting steam, it spirals back under the earth.