The Trip to Mors-Rel
Trip to Mors-Rel
HEMLSMAN:
As the Nebula's Edge soars upon the cosmic waves of wildspace, you peer through the helm's opalescent window at the glittering sea of stars ahead. But suddenly the very fabric of space outside starts to ripple, distorting the pinpricks of distant suns into streaks of light. Bulkheads creak and groan under strange pressures as your ship is sucked into an unseen vortex. All goes white momentarily. Then your vision returns, now met with an alien vista - the dark, nebulous expanse of the Astral Sea. Its black currents churn with color, wisps of violet, crimson and emerald weaving between shards of crystalline asteroids. In the distance, opalescent rivers of silvery-blue radiance fork into the void. As the Nebula’s Edge passes into the nebulous web of the Astral plane, the helm grows sluggish and unwieldy beneath your mental grasp. The ship’s etheric rudder strains as spatial distortions wrench at its metaphysical bindings – you can feel tremors through the touch of your will alone. Directly infront of you is holographic 3dimensional map. The location of Mors-Rel is highlighted, as is the location of the Nebula's Edge. As you concentrate you see a path of light apear between the two points and the ship makes a slight turn up and to the left. In the path, not far you see the icon of gateway. The ship picks up speed. You are on your way.STONEWIELDER:
As spatial fabric splits open to the swirling currents of the Astral plane, an intense warmth suddenly flares in your pocket. You draw out the Solar Stone - its etched sigils now kindling with radiant golden light from deep within translucent crystalline facets. Mesmerizing beams reflect through the bridge chamber, casting everything in vivid summer hues as if you sailed into the heart of a sunset. But the flare soon intensifies further still...growing into a blinding nova-burst that sears its silhouette into your sight. Then, as ocular blooms fade, lucid scenes take shape - visions projected directly into your mind through the Stone's channelled energy. Worlds bathed in amber sunlight and verdant life now dimming as violet shadows encroach. Azure skies swallowed in ash-choked darkness...lush forests withering into barren wastelands. A feeling of deep cold accompanies the creeping dusk - not one of temperature, but a lifeless void leeching emotion...stealing meaning itself. Blanched skeletons of mighty civilizations crumble, drained remnants scattered by hot acidic winds. Each unique existence...every history and possible future...all collapsed into one vast nothingness. But in the farthest glimpse, you spy a faint glimmer** - five sparks united against the gloom...though barely holding out as arcing bolts of the abyssal dark seek to smother them entirely in that dreadful, devouring eclipse. The vivid impressions fade as the Stone's effulgence dims back to a muted glimmer. But disquieting questions linger about what threat encroaches on the cosmos...and whether these five points kindling faintly beyond sight could offer some last salvation if fueled to full ignition. More mysteries to unravel in the perils ahead! Make a constitution save difficulty 17 On a Save: Age 1 year On a Fail: Age 10 yearsEND STONE WIELDER
BACK TO HELMSMAN
Peering through the refracting lens of the astralscope, you scan the chaotic seas ahead seeking the proper course. Currents of violet and emerald energy twist through the void around shards of celestial debris. You spot a distant shard ringed by glowing runes - a planar landmark indicating a route through the maelstrom. Feeling your way by extrasensory perception, you guide the Nebula’s Edge between two contorting streams. The ship shudders under shearing forces. Holding tight focus, you ply more mental energy through the soul-bond of the helm, steadying your fraught course. Cross-currents surge and swell but slowly, tenaciously, you ride their turbid edges. The hazardous radiance of a celestial vortex spins into view – a gyre of brilliance burning like a white dwarf star. Its event horizon marks your destination. With clenched teeth, you bank the bucking ship hard to starboard, narrowly skirting disaster as radiation buffets the shimmering hull plating. Clear space emerges beyond. The portal beckons – a dimensional interface unveiling blood-red dunes stretching to the desert world’s ruddy horizon. Mors-Rel, at last.
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