Cygnus' Adventure



= -  = War Mage-

My apprentice, I am sorry to have disappeared so suddenly yet again. First it was the Kobold blood, now it is a quest of utmost importance.

I am writing to you for two reasons. One, because it is vital that no one know where I am just yet. Two, because I do not fully trust the Sorceress. Though she agreed to my terms before I brought her back, it is up to you to watch her.

Keep an eye out for my messages, and be vigilant very aware. Not everyone who seeks to join the New Order will have good intentions.

-The Master

= -  =

War Mage- I have found something! An old vault, sealed against time itself! I may or may not have lost my pinkie toe while trying to open it. But that is not important. What is important is that while most of the stuff is unsalvageable cannot be saved, there are a few artifacts I can bring back with me. Some books, and a strange amulet that is cold to the touch. I am including a picture of it.



… I am sorry, art was never my forte strongest subject. I may be missing a very important part of my foot, but the find has motivated me to carry on, and I wish you were here to share in this discovery.

Wait.

I take it back, you would likely have bungled it and I may have lost more than a phalanx! I am not explaining that one, get a dictionary. You do remember how to read, right? Please tell me I am not writing these letters in vain...! Alas. Please remind the new recruits that with hard work, they will certainly achieve new levels of power, and with experience, even the aloof oblivious  …even the Weavers will notice their potential. -The Master

= -  = War Mage-

I think it is time I reveal to you my intent. When the Sorceress returned, she told me that the Dead World has a name: Vergon.

And that it is not the only world from which monsters such as orcs and ogres come.

While we have always assumed that our world has only linked to this one Dead World, it appears that many worlds are connected to each other, to our world, to Vergon; all using the Rifts as some sort of network. I am going to travel to some of these worlds, see what it is like on the other side. Hopefully I will learn something about our history, and about the magic on which our lives depend.

This is the first message I am attempting to send from another world. Paper tends to turn into mulch if sent through a Rift unprotected… no, it was not potato salad that one time. It tasted like paper because it WAS paper, I said that it was potato salad sarcastically and I did not mean for you to eat it.

Anyway.

If this message reaches you, my theory about sending it in a glass bottle proved correct. Good thing we have a million potion bottles left. War Mage. Do not just toss these in a corner somewhere and say ‘I’ll read them later’, do you understand me?

-The Master

= -  = War Mage- There are worlds beyond our own full of more beauty than you can possibly imagine. And there are worlds choking on their own filth, acid rain and desolation a match only for the cruelty of the people who inhabit them. Magic is at the core of every world I have been to so far, but the largest difference is how it is used. Some use it to bring rain, growing gardens and acres of crops; others use it to bring light to the darkness. Still others warp it to the will of a conqueror, unleashing war and destruction on those in their path. Seeing what can be done with the power we have been given, my apprentice, I feel it is most important to impress upon you that you must use magic responsibly. The Sorceress, before she betrayed the Order, had great potential and I was very fond of her; but she pursued a darker path. Sometimes I wonder if I had been more attentive, less critical… perhaps even kinder, I might have showed her another way to achieve what she desired most in all the world. I believe that she was merely misguided. I must believe that all people have goodness in them, even if they squander it on wenches. Yes, I am talking about you, War Mage. Though perhaps I merely believe that so I do not have to admit my mistakes in granting her access to Order secrets… things she later used against us, things that allowed her to hit the Order where it was weakest and ultimately caused our downfall. I can only hope that she was sincere when she agreed to return to Eidolon through the Rift I opened, honest in her intentions to change her ways. I say this as I look over at a painting I… liberated… which bears a remarkable resemblance to our favorite former Empress. There is no telling how far her dominion truly stretched, as it seems she knew about the Rifts leading to other worlds long before she informed me. -The Master

= -  = War Mage-

One of the most important things you will do as a leader is to forge alliances with others. When you find people whose interests and goals line up with yours, you must seize those opportunities, and approach the table with the ability to compromise and work together to create something larger than either of you could create alone.

In this way, you can reach across an entire world, over oceans and mountains, and so help me if the first thing you say to the people you meet is ‘Pull my Finger’ I will disown you.

-The Master

= -  = War Mage- I am being held against my will for ransom. Please send help in the form of coin, addressed to a Mssrs. Gak and Fik, or you will “never see me again”.

-The Master

= -  = War Mage- If not paying for my release is your idea of a joke, it is not funny. -The Master

= -  = War Mage- I have escaped captivity on my own, no thanks to you. I am sending your Ogremas present back to the warehouse thanks to my Ozon-amay Rime-pay subscription. I simply print out the return label, they pick it back up and process the refund to my account within a few days. Probably less time than I would have spent waiting on you. -The Master.

P.S. Hobgoblins are apparently the worst at keeping up a ruse… all that spooky gibberish and they cannot tie a knot for all the tea in the Seven Vaulted Kingdoms.

= -  = War Mage-

There comes a time in all our lives when our options are either rise to the occasion, or lay down and feign death.

Don’t be like me.

When a Quest is given to you, accept it. Even if that Quest is ‘Turn this rascal into Gibs or else’... You can probably just trade those Gibs later for something more useful. Maybe.

…If you are expecting an explanation, I am not inclined to share. It is rather embarrassing.

…Alright, fine. But only because you asked. And no, I am not ‘cracking up’ just because I have been wandering through a desert world without water and companionship for a week.

I arrived in this world to scorching heat and enough blasting sand that I am quite sure my wrinkles were exfoliated right off my face. I took refuge in a nearby ruin, piles of dirt as high as my chest in every corner but at least it was in the shade. Once I got most of the grains out of my teeth (there are probably still some in places I would rather not mention) I looked around… the crumbling stones appeared to have once been a fortress. The architecture is at once like and unlike the Order’s, crude and yet on a grand scale I have never seen. A sculpture of a lion with a woman’s head took up an entire room!

The walls were painted with grand scenes and tiny pictographs, animals and plants and symbols- but also, runes. The very same runes we have seen on old Order ruins in Eidolon, on several of the artifacts I have found, and scattered about many of the places I have already been.



I think that these runes are some sort of universal language, something we share with every world that is connected by the Rifts.

Alas, here is the embarrassing part. Trapped inside an old building while a sandstorm raged outside, I found some strange mushrooms growing out of a pot. I was starving, and they did not appear poisonous, so I ate them.

Shortly afterward, I witnessed a procession of strange peoples, one of whom stopped and spoke to me in a bizarre language. I expressed that I did not understand, so he wrote the words ‘Quest’, ‘Kill’, and ‘Shoes’… I took that to mean he was on a quest to kill me and steal my shoes so I simply fell over and pretended to be dead until they all left.

I awoke what must have been several hours later, the storm was over, and no evidence of people in sight. The stars in this world, however, are beautiful… as are the two moons. I almost thought I saw a woman and a rabbit playing chase between them, but, I’m fairly certain that was just the after-effects of consuming strange fungi in urns from long-abandoned fortresses.

-The Master

= -  = War Mage- After going through another Rift, I have happened upon a strange village in which all houses are made of edible materials. People are wearing odd confections called ‘cupcakes’ on their heads like hats and everyone seems to be on a permanent sugar high. Their mayor is a man named ‘Mister Muddybuddy’ and I do not think they have heard of a vegetable that isn’t cucumber-melon flavored gummy candy.

It is terrifying. Let us never delve too greedily into the creamy, golden abyss called ‘salted caramel’… I fear for our futures if we do. Although a quick dip may not be too bad. Just a taste. For science.

-The Master



= -  = War Mage-

I met a Weaver today. Fancy that, a Weaver, on a planet far from Eidolon, and not even human! Granted, she didn’t call herself a ‘Weaver’, but she certainly did the sort of thing our Weavers do. As I watched, she called upon the power of the Rift I had just come through. Ribbons of light wrapped around her body, and as she raised her hands above her head, the earth followed her motions. Before my very eyes, the shape of a tower appeared out of the dirt. She clapped her hands together and the soil fell away, leaving an actual tower three men high made out of stone! It was truly remarkable, as are all the feats a Weaver may accomplish by virtue of their unique connection to the Rifts.

You did not pay much attention when I introduced you to them as a child, and as you got older, all you saw was their beauty- but the Weavers are the source of many of the inventions you and I enjoy as mages, such as the Bladestaff and your favorite Crossbow. Their creations are what enable even the Paladins to use magic, even though they weren’t born to it.

Who ever said that gorgeous women can’t also be smart and inventive, eh? Especially the head weaver, Merilee. The stripe of white in her hair, the way her eyes sparkle with her years of wisdom, her… why am I telling you this, you could probably care less and you probably think it’s gross. I may be old but I am not an emotionless robot, I have feelings you know. -The Master

= -  = War Mage-

What is this? Why are you sending me autographed photos?



… You ARE just throwing my letters in a corner and not actually reading them! And that is not your handwriting, who did you coerce into answering your fan mail this time?!

When I get back, I have half a mind to bend you over my knee like I did when you were younger. You are in SO much trouble.

-The Master

= -  = War Mage- My apologies that it has been so long since my last corresponden letter. I found myself deep in a jungle world, populated with agile cat people. I narrowly escaped being strung up from a tree and used as a dangly toy, though I am far too stringy to be left on someone’s doorstep as a present. I did, however, stumble upon a rather interesting tuber… that is, a vegetable… with peculiar healing properties. Please do not attempt to eat it because it smells like pepperoni.

Seriously.

Do not.

It occurs to me now that I have left the man who eats things because they smell pretty in charge of rebuilding the Order. Perhaps I should have warned you not to waste all our funds on ale and feather beds? I can only hope the Sorceress has more sense, but in the case that she does not- I have met a pair of dwarves, and I have recommended they join the Order. The Prospector has a keen eye for money, and his lovely wife Brass has a keen mind for finances. They are quite fun, I think you shall like them. I am also sending with them a chalice I discovered in an old Order fortress. I do not think it has any special significance, but the runes carved into the rim are similar to those we have seen in some of the fallen fortresses beneath Rifts. -The Master



= -  = War Mage-

I hate the cold.

The blizzard in which I was stuck has finally abated let up. My fingers are no longer turning blue and I may emerge from this cave (it smells like something had curled up and died a long time ago but I do not fancy figuring out what it was, in case it was in fact still alive and just extremely smelly).

From what I can see, the world is white. The sun is glittering off the mountainside like it is made of diamonds, and the great green forest still stands despite the incredible winds from last night. It is remarkably beautiful. Though it snows on Eidolon, I do not think I have ever seen it completely cover the world like it does here, just one endless rolling hill of powdery, slippery snow. I can also see what appears to be some ruins out to the northwest of my position.



Now, to get down this mountain with the least amount of effort…

Perhaps if I use this old shield I recovered, grease it up with a little wax from this candle and attempt to slide down?

-The Master

= -  = War Mage-

Turns out, a waxed shield is an excellent and swift way of navigating down a snow-covered hill, and you will rapidly leave behind any pursuers- such as the VERY displeased white bear, who did not take very kindly to me dropping the shield after I rubbed a candle all over it.

I did, however, catch a glimpse of a peculiar red paw mark that appeared painted on the bear’s face before I jumped on my make-shift sled and kicked off down the slope. I wonder what that was about.

It is about half a day’s trek to the ruins I saw, and I suspect I shall be sore in the morning. After a few hundred years, one’s body is not quite as resilient to bumpy rides. Trying to concentrate on two things at once (steering and not dying in this case) tends to be confusing. I strongly suggest you pick one aspect and concentrate on it. If it were team sledding, for instance, one person would steer and one person would not-die and in the end, you have a much more successful experience through cooperation without everyone running all over the place trying to do two things at once. -The Master

= -  = War Mage-

I am beginning to notice a pattern here, as I am writing this letter from the shelter of some tree roots while the sky liberally dumps water on us unsuspecting mortals. Every single time I step through a Rift, nature tries to attack me. Sandstorms, snowstorms, now this rain that hasn’t let up for two whole days.

Those mushrooms on the log beside me are looking tasty, but I have not yet recovered from my last experience so I shall resist.

The last ruins I visited were covered in chickenscratch rune scrawls but not much else. I coped down as many of them as I could find in hopes that the Weavers could make sense of them- you have been delivering the research materials I’ve been sending, yes? It would be nice, after suffering bug bites in places unsuitable for discussion, to finally have some answers.

I left on this sabbatical to visit these other worlds, and what I have found is that we all share at least a very distant history of magic. Where there are Rifts, there is magic, and there are Weavers who can shape it, as well as Mages who can channel it. There are intelligent beings and there are monsters much like orcs. I have seen cities rising up out of the water, and monuments taller than mountains, and so many different architectural styles of Fortress it is baffling. How could we ever have thought that we were the first to experience what we did? A foreign force of invaders seeking to conquer us all, so we build up defenses and use the tools at our disposal to defend. A tradition of tower defense appears to reach back in time, probably to the very beginning, when the Rifts were made.

And yes, I do believe they were made. There is a nearly mathematical precision to the conditions that must be present for a Rift to be opened; as we were coming to discover before the Order was destroyed, a Rift could exist only on a convergence of magical energies, and that a Rift can be closed but never truly destroyed. As long as the conditions are right, any closed Rift can be opened again by a person with the knowledge how. (I am sorry I never got the chance to teach you… except, not that sorry, because I believe the only thing you would do with that skill is open countless Rifts trying to find the world of Booze and Wenches.)

Now, I am trying not to be alarmed at this moment, so I will continue writing, but there are a pair of eyes staring at me right now. I thought it was just a large, docile lizard, but it appears to be somewhat intelligent. I despise lizards, ever since you put them in my bed that one evening after the party. If this is the last letter I ever write, at least you’ll know what happened to me and may mourn appropriately.

-The Master

= -  = War Mage-

I am not dead. Nor have I been body-snatched by a small chameleon, although I did for a moment believe I was being consumed by a giant ooze with too many tentacles but that was just an illusion. Thought you would like to know.

-The Master

= -  = War Mage-

I have come across the most bizarre phenomenon. I stepped through a Rift into a nearly untouched Fortress, and though it was clearly abandoned, neither time nor nature had done any serious damage to it. It is quite dusty, however.

The fairly solid keep, however, is not the bizarre part.

Across a short river, there is another, nearly identical Fortress, also in good shape. Each Fortress guards a Rift in its center, and I am honestly bewildered. We have never seen two Rifts so close together, much less guarded by two Fortresses in a world that seems utterly abandoned. The Rifts themselves are… different. They seem to almost sing to one another, in so much as all Rifts play a sort of magical tune. I wish Merilee were here to see this, she would be quite beside herself as head Weaver in the center of a magical conundrum.

I stepped through the Rift opposite the one I arrived from, and immediately found myself on a world which smelled of sulphur and smoke. I promptly turned around and returned to the world with what I am calling, at least temporarily, a Rift Pair; as they seem to be a pair, like cherries.

After slightly more exploration, which yielded (I am not surprised) evidence of more rune carvings in both fortresses, I also found a journal. Stuffed haphazardly into a niche in a wall and covered hastily with a loose brick, someone had made an effort to hide it, likely before making a hasty retreat through the Rift… or, Magus forbid, before being horrifically cut down by monsters from the fumigated world over yonder.

This journal… it is beautiful. A rich red leather, inlaid with gold and gemstones, with runes gilded onto the cover and spine. The inside is almost entirely scribed in runes! There are pictures, with runes beside them; it looks like an observation notebook of the birds and flowers in the area. There are more pages, with animals and plants from countless other worlds… I am not the first to have gone Rift-hopping for the sake of science! Who knows who this person was, or when she lived, or where she came from, but this journal may be the key to translating the runes themselves. The plain text language is like nothing I’ve ever seen, but, perhaps one of the many people I met in my travels have seen it before and can be of assistance. Either way, it is perhaps one of the most important discoveries I have made on this journey.

-The Master

= -  = War Mage-

Remember when I mentioned that people seeking to join the Order might not have the best intentions?

I emerged from a Rift on a coast, a long beach covered in white sand as far as the eye could see, and what could have been a serene place to which I would love retiring was playing host to a motley collection of monsters.

They did not, however, attack me on sight. Orcs, trolls, the tall ones to which we are accustomed and what appears to be a much smaller and fatter version of the troll species, plus some spindly creatures that look to be made of splintering twigs, and I thought I saw some hobgoblins scampering about; they raised their weapons and looked menacing but did not attempt to kill me.

Instead, someone bound my arms and brought me to their ‘leader’.

I have never seen an orc woman before, and if you can believe it, they are uglier than orc men. She was dressed in a chainmail bikini that appeared to have been ripped off some poor sod with her bare hands and her skirt of suspiciously flesh-colored strips was held up by a very large dead snake. When I was deposited at the base of her ‘throne’, a chair made of bones and an old cauldron, she actually cooed at me! Like I was a puppy! The insult!

She then surprised me by speaking very plainly in our own language, explaining that I looked like an Order mage, she had heard of my kind and had heard about how we had been responsible for the deaths of many of her children.

She went on for quite some time about how she was on her way to ally with something called “The Unchained”, and that she would have revenge on all the “nasty clean magic-mages”. Through subtlety and flattery (remind me to wash my mouth out with soap when I return), I was able to ask a few more questions of her.



The Unchained, it turns out, is some sort of collection of folks who feel as though they got the short end of the magical stick. Many have been stuck on dead worlds for ages, some simply are not content with what they have and want more, and others just like making bloody messes; but all of them feel generally that they should be able to use the Rifts and Magic as the will and that somehow the Order (you should hear them speak of us!) is going around sticking their noses where it doesn’t belong, trying to keep Magic out of the hands of the free people, closing Rifts and interrupting people’s ways of life.

I was not aware that was how the Order is being perceived, but, I shall have to have some words with the Sorceress about how exactly she managed to send so many waves of malcontent across so many worlds, that monsters half a galaxy away have heard of ‘The Enchantress of Worlds’ and are rallying to join her in the fight against the ‘Hated Order’. Then the orc woman decided she would “keep me”… not sure what she meant. Maybe like a pet.

I do not believe they are aware of the Sorceress’… ah… abdication. Nor did tell them. I will let them figure that out on their own if ever they should be part of an assault against us.

Clearly, I am no longer in their possession, as I am writing this to you. I managed to bonk my little orc guard over the head and slip away. I am sending this to you, and then I will be traveling through a Rift toward the gathering place of The Unchained- it was mentioned by the orc woman… I heard them call her ‘Mama’ and also ‘Ball-and-Chain’… one may be her name, or her title, or just the weapon she carries, orcs are very strange.

-The Master

= -  = War Mage-

For being an uncouth assortment of rebels and beasts, the camps of the Unchained are relatively… organized. There is a legion of kobolds with, would you believe it, some sort of crowned king. There are many large, brutal orcs with weapons and trophies, there are trolls and there are some humans as well. All of them are somehow managing to work together while arguing with each other, no one really seems to be in charge except for a very loud orc that yells at everyone alike.

I have kept to the outskirts of the… I do not know what to call it, camp, base, none of them quite do the layout justice. I figure, out of sight, out of mind, that sort of thing while spying on everyone to get the measure of this gathering. I overheard a conversation between two Gnolls about their assassin’s guild preparing an attack on one of the other Gnoll groups present. With any luck, these yahoos will tear themselves apart before they ever get around to attacking us.

I am not holding out hope for that, though.

They seem to believe that controlling the Rifts and the Fortresses thereby gives them control over magic itself. As what I have learned, this could be true enough. Magic is a tool, as I have been trying to teach you for years, neither evil nor good until you use it for such a purpose. If these creatures were to gain control of the Rifts, I fear they will use it for violence and bloodshed.

I think I have seen enough. What began as an innocent quest for history and knowledge has rapidly become a mission for military intelligence and I feel a heavy burden I thought to be free of falling once again upon me. Today I begin my search for a Rift back home, to Eidolon, to the Order. As much faith as I have in you, and the new friends and allies we have gained, I am needed more there than I am out in the wilderness chasing shadows of the past.

I will see you when I return.

-The Master

= -  = 11 Springmarch

Ever since I returned to Eidolon with the Runebound Journal and the knowledge that our enemies are building up their forces, I have not rested easily. There is too much to do, and not enough time to do it. We must rebuild the Order, we must bolster Eidolon’s defences, and we must not allow ourselves to surrender in the face of unconquerable adversity. I have come to spend my nights poring over the pages of the journal with Merilee, translating what I can, searching for anything that can help us. Being the all-knowing ‘Master of the Order’, people look to me to have all the answers. Well, they look to Maximilian too, but the last time he went about saving the world we saw orc giblets being used as currency. It was NOT my fault I was unconscious for that! Regardless, it is my responsibility that no one repeats that rather messy experience. So here I am copying research notes, long past my bedtime, with cold coffee and stiff joints. There are mentions in the journal about beings of great power, “Rift Lords”, who were able to harness the power of the rifts in a scope beyond which any of us have ever seen. Not only could they open and close the rifts at will, they could re-direct them. They could supposedly perform incredible feats of magic that would take the entire Order combined to even attempt. The Journal details one event where a Rift Lord caused three days and nights of darkness out of grief for a lost love. However, except for the partially-translated schematic for increased control over the weather (and I am quite certain we have a word wrong; hurricanes should probably not rain skulls instead of hailstones…), neither I nor the Weavers have come across anything more useful to us than a few rituals. We are still planning on attempting them. Strange esoteric rituals from a book we only half understand… in the words of my apprentice, what could possibly go wrong?

= -  = 12 Springmarch

I KNEW IT. I KNEW SOMETHING WOULD GO WRONG.

= -  = 12 Springmarch, Evening

Now that the initial chaos has died down, I may record these events with less… emotional influence.

After much coaxing, Gabriella and I managed to convince Maximilian that he needed to stand in the center of a summoning circle, underneath a rift. The ritual the Weavers decrypted called for ‘a human channel’ or something of the sort. It DEFINITELY was not the word sacrifice. (We decided to skip over that particular ritual entirely… although I did notice Gabriella’s eyes light up a little too brightly when we mentioned it. I should probably keep an eye on that girl.)

After he agreed, and by that I mean we told him he could host the pie-eating contest he’s been bugging me about, I performed the rest of the ritual. The first time, I did it without magic. When dealing with such power, it behooved all of us to be sure I had it right. The second time, after calling up a great lightning storm, we reached the climax and my apprentice… my incredibly stupid and irresponsible apprentice… sneezed.

He sneezed.

And lightning went everywhere.

Now, aside from the damage it did to nearby trees, a tower, and most regrettably the same lamp that has been caught up in the crossfire before, no one was hurt. We should all be grateful for that. My beard, however, is sticking straight out from my face and does not seem to be de-electrifying anytime soon- which makes it positively impossible to meditate.

= -  = 14 Springmarch

I believe I may have found an unintentional side effect of the other day’s ritual mishap. After, everywhere I went, tiny rifts keep popping up. At first I did not realize they were mine- small, unstable anomalies that appeared with something of a pop, whirred about a bit, and then collapsed in on themselves.

Then, as Maximilian was going on about whether cheesecake was a pie, I nearly had an aneurism and POP! There one appeared a little too close to Maximilian’s head. He said ‘Aww, how cute!’ and foolishly stuck his hand in it… it shocked him, but he was otherwise unharmed.

I gathered that my emotions were somehow tied to the appearances. With practise, I learned that by simply reshaping my energies and harmonizing them with the electrical confluence, I can summon a miniature rift wherever I so choose, without the need for a convergence.

Being as they are, as I noted earlier, rather unstable, they are much too small for most practical purposes. Without a convergence, necessary for opening a proper sized rift, I cannot make them last more than a few moments. They are much too small for travel, and seem to suck things toward them (papers, hats, very small rocks, etc.), but then they also dissipate on contact with anything much larger, or living.

For purposes of my studies, I have taken to calling them “Rift Shards”. They are very small parts of a much larger whole, pinholes in the fabric of the rift web. We shall see if they have any practical application for battle, or if the ritual flub was just a flub after all.

Main Plot is here: Lore