[Game Thread] A Wizarding Adventure

[gluckhf]

The sun slips from the sky, casting a flicker of an ominous shadow across the Unseen University doors that tower high above you as the cart pulls up. The clean, black doors and the trimmed grass lawn contrast the caked-on muck and slash-marked walls you saw through small cracks on the carriage ride through Riddleport. The other students in the sealed carriage are all looking everywhere but at each others eyes, staying silent as instructed by the coach driver. As the carriage draws to a halt, a gnome runs out of a shadow and up to the coach, pulling open the door. "Come on then, off you go!" the short statured university butler says as he ushers you out of the cart, "Quick quick, no reason to dawdle!" A few stumbles lead you to the steps of the University as the carved doors creak inwards, putting you face to face with the Dean, a towering figure with a clipboard floating in front of him.

"Greetings, everyone." The Dean says slowly as you jostle about in your new school robes, still itching from the lack of use and sweat-soaked from the heat of the day-long ride. "As I'm sure you know, I have invited you here, my most welcome test sub.. err.. students, to give you an opportunity to make something of yourselves. Now, single file! State your name, city, and primary school of magic as you enter, if you please." He looks expectantly at your group, pen floating above the first page of the clipboard.

[gluckhf]

'You know nobody comes out of that place, right?'

It's the 'So what do you want to be when you grow up?' question of the moment. Of course people come out of the Unseen University. Just look to any respected metropolis and you'll see a tower that is the highest among the same level peaks, has the most extravagant of matching facades, is the 'first among equals'. Inside the walls you will find (or not, depending if you get lost within) an Alumnus – a graduate of the Unseen University - advising kings, aiding the worthy, and occasionally moving mountains. (It's rumoured that the Wyvernsting palisade once rested on a rolling plain until the Kodar Mountains were rearranged by an Alumnus). Knowledgeable beyond what seems possible, they seem to answer questions before they are asked; however, none have answered the questions raised of the inner workings of the great school. Elsewhere, scattered across Golarion, are the drop-outs of every race and creed. These wizards, some powerful in their own right and some bumbling fools, all report the same memory: blackness. Utter, impenetrable blackness. Only some of those who enter the black doors are not seen again. And it wouldn't be me.


Through research, informants, friends, or passers-by, you learn the following:

Rulers of nations have mixed feelings about the powerful Alumnus, some of who have levelled cities, and some of who have sat in silence while their towers burned around them. The most outstanding recent event was in 4708AR, five years ago, when King Eodred II commanded the dwarven Alumnus Kevkul in Korvosa to give him knowledge of where to find the cure for his disease, to which he refused. The wrath of the king was thrown upon him yet the wizard remained silent. It is said when the assassins struck the dwarf on the king's vengeful order for his death, he crumpled to the ground and uttered, with a smile on his face, 'It is time.' During the riots after the King's death, the University was partially blamed and the more zealous of the citizens struck out to Riddleport in anger. The mob was eaten by the city in only the way that pirates can manage. That is to say, they were hanged unceremoniously from the Cyphergate.

It has been seventy years since the last letters were sent from the Unseen University, carried by unknown servants and delivered to the chosen. It's the opportunity of a lifetime; thousands will be invited and hundreds will answer the call. Some may forge their own letter, steal another candidate's identity, even kill for it in hopes of attaining the legendary power of an Alumnus.


Rumours circulate as you get closer on your journey to Riddleport, varying from region to region:

• The school pushes people to the limits of their knowledge – those not seen again went insane. Only the mentally prepared succeed.
• Unfortunate “Candidates” fight for the sick entertainment of the evil Dean, cast out when he's through. It's not a school at all.
• The school is just a giant death match, the power of the those slain going to those who slay. Only those who strike first will survive.
• Memories are just altered by the University to protect its identity – wizards hate to be bothered, after all. Anyone given the chance should attend.
• The school is in the shadow realm, populated by demons and the powers granted are exchanged for wizard's souls. One should not trade eternal torture for mortal power.

[syphiliticmind]

The journey from Magnimar to Riddleport left a bad taste in Attison’s mouth. He’d spent the entire trip with the crew he’d come to consider family in awe of him. They’d kept asking annoying questions he didn’t have answers to, doting on him, and otherwise just making nuisances of themselves. He had almost been glad to dock at Riddleport. Then a gnome had rushed him into wizard robes and onto a carriage, before he even had the chance to make sure the ship had been properly secured. The ride was bumpy, and dirty, and sweaty. It was the bumpy that was getting to him.

So now, Attison was cranky.

He looks around at the other students, a glint of challenge in his eyes. The carriage stops, and he climbs off, glad for once to have his feet on land. Some soft-handed guy introduces himself as the Dean, and Attison shoots him the cut-eye as well, his eyebrow cocking ever so slightly.

He couldn’t exactly blame the others for not stepping forward at that rather foreboding introduction. Well, whatever. He wanted out of this heat, and he wanted out of it now. He takes his first few steps up the stairs, pausing in front of the Dean.

“Attison Veronesi. I’m from Magnimar, and I’m a conjurer,” he says sullenly, before brushing past the Dean and into the Unseen University.

[gluckhf]

Attison slips inside the door, cloak brushing wide as he passes the archway and disappears down what could only be a staircase on the other side.

As he steps through the door he feels a faint pull on his heart as if his spirit momentarily has trouble following his body. He shakes it off and continues forward, down a circular flight of stairs about two stories down to a fair-sized lobby below, entering from its southern door. A soft light emanating from the ceiling illuminates this ten foot high and sixty foot diameter octagonal room, carpeted and decorated with what look to be quite expensive items scattered about.

On first glance, he notices two couches facing each other in the center of the room spaced about 10 feet apart and a few book cases with old tomes, cabinets with wands and artifacts on display lining the edges of the room. On the far wall is an eight-foot-tall oil painting of a figure balancing on the bowsprit of a galley cresting a huge wave in a storm, giant squid clinging to the rigging with a gargantuan shark leaping out of the water alongside it. Other than the stairs behind him, there are no other immediately discernible exits to the room.

[propheticblue]

Cera was going to leave some things out of his first letter home, he realized. Chief among them the fact that he, usually always ready to meet new faces, had squeezed himself into a corner of the coach and stared at his hands for the entire ride.

It was just all very strange and new, that was the problem. He'd never been so far from home before, he'd never been in such a large city before, blah blah his thoughts made him sound like a prepubescent yokel. One city was pretty much like another, right? This was going to be fine. He straightened his robes carefully as the coach ground to a halt, and tried not to think about the surprise and strange pity on the gnome's face when he said thank you for the robes, but he'd made his own at home.

The door of the coach opened and Cera stepped out, blinking in the light. Oh, crud, that was the University, towering up over him like a mountain of sheer academic intimidation. And his clothes were wrinkled from the ride and his hair was probably a mess...one hand went around his neck to the fox curled there, stroking the soft fur once for reassurance, and the other went to fix his appearance into something at least resembling presentability. It was dry and hot here, too, that was going to be murder on his split ends.

They are herded into a single-file line, Cera somehow ending up second. He steps up to the Dean and tries to hold his usual charming and polite smile that tends to work wonders on authority figures.

"Cera Wynnesson, Turtleback Ferry, Abjuration. Thank you for the opportunity to study here."

[gluckhf]

Cera follows Attison inside, heading down the steps beyond the door. He, too, feels the pull as he steps through the door, and starts down the spiral staircase. At the bottom of the steps, just at the doorway to the room, he stops as he comes upon a strange-looking short man he hasn't seen before, dressed in gawdy wizarding robes unlike those worn by Attison or his fellow wizards, standing frozen mid-stride heading down the steps. One hand is reaching under his robes, as he looks to be stuffing something inside. His stillness is unnatural, and he does not appear to have responded to the sound of Cera made. He can see Attison behind him, starting to walk towards a painting.

[syphiliticmind]

Addison wanders around the room, looking at the contents. Some wand, some staff, some other boring looking, dusty, and otherwise inaccessible object. The painting was even worse. He stops to stare at it a moment before snorting derisively, folding his arms over his chest and tilting his head to one side. He had a verdict for this painting.

“Tacky as ****.”

That sailor shouldn’t have even been out on seas so stormy, and so far from home to boot. What did he think he was going to get done out there?

A sound from the stairwell clips his critique short, and Addison wheels about to face the stairs once more. Probably just another one of the kids he was on the carriage with, right? Either way, Addisons hand creeps to his breast, where a sundial compass quietly rests.

[admiralducknips]

Lydia was not quite conscious as the carriage pulled up to the University. Her journey had been harsh and long, and upon nestling herself into a corner of the carriage (the most popular seat for wizard-types) shed launched into an uneasy nap that lasted the journey. Earlier she had gladly discarded her traveling robes for the uniform. It had been a long time since she had worn something so clean and warm.

The sudden shift as the carriage stopped jolted Lydia awake, and she took a few moments to remember where she was. Right, mysterious University. Smiling to herself, she politely got in the queue to disembark, trying not to look anyone in the face. It was a bit early for socializing and as far as Lydia was concerned eye contact was always an invitation to awkward conversation. Plus, she did not want to get chastised for making any sort of noise.

Outside, Lydia drew her hood down a bit. Sunlight usually led to sunburn and Lydia was an exceptionally pale person. She stood in line, listening to the Dean and…wait a minute, did he almost say test subjects? Lydia frowned but did not speak. Well, until the person in front of her was gone.

“Lydia Vanderbilt. Uh, Restov. Illusionist.” Lydia had planned to say something more elegant but that sort of just shat out her mouth. She looked at the Dean once, twice, and then fled past himand into the building.

[gluckhf]

Lydia runs quickly after Cera beyond the doors, and passes so quickly through the door that she may have thought the resistance to her travel was just the wind. She continues down the stairs, stopping just short of running into the back of Cera, who in front of is still the strange, unmoving man.

[propheticblue]

Cera is about the enter the room when someone almost cannons right into his back. He yelps a little and quickly skips out of the way--a lifetime of frailty has taught him that in collision situations he is always the losing party. He offers the girl who almost hit him an amused smile.

"There's plenty of stairs and boring room for everyone, I think it'll still be there even if you walk." He turns to gesture to the room, and only then notices the frozen man in front of him. "Oh. Woah, you okay there?"

[admiralducknips]

The pull, as if against her very being, that Lydia felt as she crossed the building’s threshold was…distracting. Evidently, it was distracting enough that she did not notice the other wizard directly in front of her and nearly skidded into his back. This was not good; Lydia’s intent was to fly under the radar and not cue unnecessary social interaction immediately. She froze up as the other wizard addressed her, and quickly calmed herself.

“Lydia.” She murmured in return, leaving this…Cera’s other statements unanswered. Lydia’s tone was not dismissive and there was not any sort of annoyed expression on her face—she just did not see the value of such exchanges. Lydia found herself petting her pocket to make sure Waddles was safe inside, as she was not sure if foxes ate turtles.

Stepping back, she looked past Cera to the man down the stairs. He looked strange, as if he had not been expecting them. The man had his hands inside of his robe as if he was reaching for a snack—Lydia must be hungry. However, as she was not the most direct of people she just maneuvered around Cera and watched the man carefully.

“Are you of..whom we’re supposed to meet in here?” Lydia directed this at the gaudily-dressed man, who may or may not be reaching for a snack. She winced internally at how clumsily she articulated that.

[gluckhf]

The man offers no response, still unmoving, seemingly frozen mid-step in the doorway, as Lydia looks at him.

 

Lydia looks at the man

Dice Perception Check:

d20+3

(9)+3

Total = 12

[gluckhf]

Lydia notices the man is not reaching for a snack, but rather stuffing some type of dark fabric into the billows of his overly fluffy and colorful robe.

 

Lydia looks at the cloak

Dice Knowledge Local:

d20+7

(14)+7

Total = 21

[gluckhf]

It's a dark fabric.. but not black. Black does not blend in with darkness - no... this is not the color of a cloak made for resisting stains or attempting thievery. This particular shade of dark grey mixed with a hint of blue is the color of night. The color of an assassins cloak.

[Mesoplodont]

Prisca had arrived early at the carriage pick-up site, and had waited nonplussed as a uniform of appropriate size could be found for her. The robes that were finally brought to her were still a bit large, perhaps meant for a dwarf or a halfling man (she was a bit short even by halfling standards). Oh well, she would shorten the hem herself when she had the time and fastened the loose folds snugly at her neck with the clasp from her old traveler's cloak. At least there were many useful pockets; Tavi, the weasel that was her familiar quickly made a home in one of them. The hat was perfect, though, with a nice wide brim for keeping the sun and rain off while outdoors. Prisca made herself comfortable in a corner of the carriage and quickly fell asleep on the journey to Riddleport. She woke occasionally as other passengers boarded and noticed another young woman napping across from her in the other corner.

It seemed like an eternity before the carriage finally stopped, and with a sigh of relief Prisca stepped out of the hot carriage into the day's cool air. She waited behind the other students as the Dean greeted everyone. That was odd, did he just refer to us as test subjects? 'We better keep our wits about us in this place' she quietly whispered to Tavi. Two human men and the young woman who sat across from her in the carriage went through the big doors past the Dean first, and then it was Prisca's turn: Assertively she stated, "I'm Prisca Gamwich, an Evocation specialist from Gralton", and with that she followed her peers into the University. The Dean had asked for a city name, and though she wasn't actually from any city she figured she shouldn't cause trouble and named the one she had spent the most time around as a child.