In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 43):

Once you join Wildheart in the sky, you can see that the world is actually quite a bit different than you might have expected.

Although the rolling hills and forests persist in blurred patches below you, there are a variety of solid-looking islands of purple stones floating above them.  There seems to be no rhyme or reason to their location in the sky, as they vary greatly in height -- nor do any appear to be much larger than mile across.

Your guide sets off toward the nearest such island, heading in a northeastern direction (and slightly upward) with the sort of grace you might expect from one accustomed to spectral travels.

"We'll move quickly from island to island," he says, pointing to the purplish orb in the sky that represents the sun.  "I was hoping to avoid this, but when nightfall comes, we'll want to be close to a solid, easily defended position."

The day passes uneventfully for the most part, though you are treated to a host of exotic sights and sounds that you can never be sure originated from this plane or the one you left behind.

By the time the sun has finally begun to set, Wildheart has led you to a tiny island floating as high in the heavens as you've yet traveled.  Its rocky surface is smooth and devoid of any life forms at all, and the entire chunk is no larger than a mid-sized galleon.

"We'll camp here," the spirit says, making himself as comfortable as an intangible being can be, given the situation. "I suggest a quick meal, and then a watch order of two asleep and two awake at all times.  Be vigilant -- these islands are part of the Ethereal Plane, and thus cannot be passed through.  But we are not the only free-floating denizens of this realm... and most of the natives are far from friendly."

In reply to DM (msg # 44):

Keef, who spent the entire day's travels swimming awkwardly, upside-down and with a labored enthusiasm that dyslexic Ogre might (in a moment of generosity) refer to as "graceful-ish", never once ceases to be amazed by the marvels of this new plane.  He points his nose toward anything new, threatening to float off and get lost forever.

Now on 'solid' ground, Keef still has no interest in anything but exploration.

I'll take first watch, I'm not tired, and I can explore this rock!

Chubbs, who spent his day zooming expertly from one companion of the party to the next and is now slowly orbiting Keef's head, for once appears to agree with the boy.

Wildheart, would you take watch with Keef?  I'll take second watch with Maeve.  That way, we will have someone who can fight in close and someone capable of attacking at range awake at the same time.  Is everyone agreed?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 46):

The spirit nods.

"I'll keep watch with Keef and Chubbs gladly, while you and Maeve share the second watch."

In reply to DM (msg # 47):

Keef will spend the watch wandering the 'island' and poking everything.

Whenever in range of Wildheart he spouts a deluge of questions.

Are you really Zuriels's relative?  Do you watch him from here?  What's it like being dead?  Is it too warm?  I'd bet it's too warm.  Were you surprised to see Veilspire? I was, but that's normal.  Is the staff from here?  It seems to like it here.  How far are the anchors?  What will they look like?

... and on.

In reply to Keef (msg # 48):

Wildheart smiles at Keef's rambling diatribe, answering bits and pieces whenever the child takes a moment to catch his breath.

"If he is my brother's son, as he claims, then yes, I suppose he is indeed my nephew.  Truth be told, I have never seen him before today.  I don't spend as much time as I'd like watching over your plane at all."

His eyes grow wistful for a moment.

"Being dead isn't so bad, once you get used to it. But my view is a little skewed.  Most spirits are sent to their eternal rest upon death; I tried to cheat the system, for there was much I wanted to accomplish when I was taken from the mortal coil. I managed to avoid the traditional death, but accidentally became trapped in a completely different realm -- one distinct from both this one and the one you call home."

Wildheart shakes his head, and changes the subject.

"Anchors look much like your staff, my Heartstone, and the cloven collar do.  That is to say, normal for the world in which they are observed.  Destroying an anchor detaches whatever it is linked to from the plane in which the anchor resides, but what makes an anchor special is its ability to exist in several places at once."

Seeing the confused look on Keef's face, he clarifies.

"Let's use my Heartstone as an example.  Destroy it here, and I can no longer manifest on the Ethereal Plane without being summoned.  The same is true if the Heartstone on the Material Plane -- my old home and your current one -- were to be destroyed. But every anchor had to start somewhere, and that first version is known as the Origin.  Mine is on the plane of Fey'driel, and if something were to happen to it, every anchor attached to it would be destroyed, and I would find myself shunted toward my intended final resting place in surprisingly short order."

Wildheart takes a moment to consider the Everstaff, changing the topic to something less abstract.

"I've always wondered about the exact nature of that staff; Veilspire never seemed to quite know what it was going to do next.  If it is an anchor, it's unlike any I've ever seen. It seems to have some extraplanar properties to it, but you'd need a powerful magician to decipher them in any detail.  The fact that it looks different here than it does on the Material Plane is curious indeed."

The spirit yawns and stretches.

"As for how far we have left to go, I estimate another day or two of travel separates us from where we want to be.  But getting there is the easy part."

***

As the first watch drags on, a pulsing orb of light weaves its way through the sky.  You don't pay its lazy movements much heed at first, but before long it's within a stone's throw of the island.  The orb vibrates softly, creating ghost-like words.

"Where... is... the... maker?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:26, Wed 06 Nov 2013.

The orb's voice awakens Maeve from a dream of flying toads.

What is that? she asks the spirit of Wildheart, quietly.  And who is the maker?

In reply to Maeve (msg # 50):

"Looks like a wisp of some kind," the spirit says softly.  "But I don't know anything about a maker."

Boreas snaps out of his half-sleep upon the mention of Fey'driel.

His eyes - eye - glazes over and a dull green light pulses consistently in his gem.  After a few seconds, he  returns to lucidity with a start.

Maker of what, exactly? he asks, as if nothing were amiss.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 52):

Pies? Keef offers helpfully.

Probably not pies, unfortunately.

Maeve tries to address the orb.

Hello there. . . .my name is Maeve.  Do you have a name?

In reply to Maeve (msg # 54):

"The maker... Are you the maker?"

The orb bobs up and down expectantly.

In reply to DM (msg # 55):

Keef scratches his chin.

Well... we DO make things I suppose, but I don't know if we're THE Maker.  Maker of What?

In reply to Keef (msg # 56):

The orb pauses, puzzled.

"The Maker would know..." it says, before sadly floating away.

Well, that was strange says Maeve, settling back down in an attempt to catch a little more sleep before her watch begins or the orb returns with friend bent on killing them all, whichever comes first.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 58):

The rest of the night passes uneventfully (you know, as far as nights in another Plane go).  Morning dawns bright and early, and soon you find yourself on your way once more.

At about midday, Wildheart calls for a break upon a small, rocky island not unlike the one on which you passed the evening.  The spirit stands idly by as you put together as enjoyable a meal as you can without a fire, but he seems troubled.

After everything has been packed up once more, Wildheart narrows his eyes and unslings his bow.

"I was afraid of this," he says darkly. "We are not alone."

A good-natured chuckle emanates from the center of the island, and a humanoid figure slowly fades into existence before your eyes.

He is dressed in a strange hooded cloak, which obscures his body from the ankles of his boots all the way to his head.  He carries a backpack bulging with assorted objects, many of which you've never seen outside an academy or laboratory, and he appears to be unarmed.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" he says, far less nervously than perhaps he should.  "I'm just a simple explorer and scientist cursed with an extraordinary sense of curiosity."

He motions to your group absently, more or less ignoring Wildheart.

"Pray tell, what brings you to this beautiful, wretched place?  Is this spirit bothering you?"

In reply to DM (msg # 59):

Keef, floating upside-down at roughly a 45-degree angle, shakes his head.

Nope, he's helping us.

He looks around at his companions who seem to be taking a far more tactical stance than he and so he adds: I mean... who goes there?

In reply to Keef (msg # 60):

"The name's Professor Dwight Sherman," the man says, adjusting his spectacles proudly.  "Surely you've heard of me?"

Seeing the blank stares of the P.A.R.T.Y., he sniffs and continues.

"Accomplished Planesman extraordinaire?  Nothing?"

The man slings off his backpack and rummages through it furiously, producing a collapsible wand.  Dwight gives it an experimental wriggle, then swishes and flicks it through the air in a purposeful pattern.

Colorful words swirl around him in a column, and appear to be quotes from reputable news sources.



[Private to Boreas Highwind; Maeve: This last one catches your eye, as the Red Dawn is rumored to be the PR front for a fairly militant organization dedicated to advancing the wealth, power, and prestige of pure humans at the detriment of humanity's mixed strains.]

"Now that you've seen my credentials," he begins, self-assuredly whipping out a piece of parchment and a strange quill pen that seems to have a vial of ink attached to it.  "Perhaps you can tell me bit about yourself and your journeys in the Ethereal Plane?  I'm especially curious about your spirit friend, there."

Not liking his insinuations about Wildheart, Maeve introduces herself politely but still warily.

A pleasure, Professor. My name is Maeve, of Gaelia.  She is initially hesitant to divulge that last bit of information, but her features are already a dead giveaway.

Gods, I hope he doesn't recognize me, not if he has the connections that I think he does

In reply to Maeve (msg # 62):

And I'm Keef, Keef adds, now fully inverted above a small tree.  We're here on a very important mission.  The spirit... well, he's not a FRIEND, friend, but I like him, I'd say he's a guide, but really we're helping HIM... I think.  Anyway, he's Wildheart, haven't you heard of him? Keef looks genuinely puzzled.

Chubbs remains hidden in the shadow of a large stone.

Red Dawn?  That sounds familiar.  Well, we DID just meet a wolverine recently...

Boreas regards the stranger warily.  You... don't recognize the spirit here?  I thought everyone knew his legend.  And what are you after in this strange world?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 64):

"Wildheart? Bah - I don't subscribe to myth and legend," the man scoffs. "Only science and magic, which are indistinguishable if approached correctly."

Dwight peers intently at Wildheart's spirit, frowning.

"It does appear to be an elven spirit," he snorts.  "Where does he claim to be guiding you?  I wouldn't trust him further than I could thr-"

"Enough," Wildheart interjects.  "Whether you like it or not, I am Wildheart.  We are on our way to destroy Veilspire's last anchor, banishing from this world and all others for good.  I'm sure it will not impede your important research."

Though the inflection given to the final two words suggests sarcasm, the professor seems unphased.

"I'm not sure it won't.  You see, I'm doing a survey of the various spirits the populate this world, keeping tabs on the characteristics of each.  While it's helpful to add both "Wildheart" and "Veilspire" as 'generic elven shades', the more you destroy or disturb, the less accurate my model will be."

The man jots a few things down on his parchment.

"Have you encountered anything else of note?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:02, Sat 09 Nov 2013.

Are you familiar with any entity calling itself 'the Maker?'

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 66):

We saw a floating orb.  Also some trees.

In reply to Keef (msg # 67):

"The Maker?" Dwight responds.  "Can't say it rings a bell." [Private to Boreas Highwind: He's lying.]

"This orb you spoke of... when did you see it, and where was it heading?"