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Topics - MetroMagic

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Here is a place to store an IMG and generate a clickable link.

Why would I (or you) want this?

It's for when I don't want to embed an image in-line or inside a spoiler.

If I want an image to pop up via a link in a fairly clean context with no ads, and don't have anywhere convenient to store it outside Minmax, I can put it here!

I store the image in TINYPIC. I put the IMG code for it in a post.

The link for that post will call up the image.

If I tried to call it up directly on TINYPIC via a link, I get a window littered with advertising and other stuff I don't want.

Calling up a post on MinMax directly looks great by comparison; see the first example in the next post.

Simple.

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((READ THE END OF PART 3 BEFORE READING THIS ONE))

Spinning through the recently vacated Bralspace, among the few objects left are: Halfaz’ crystal ship, still miniature, which is blindingly ablaze with absorbed energy; Darayat’s sword, which has stopped glowing blue; Ror’s axe, which is brightly glowing green; Star’s kaleidoscopic staff; and the bright yellow-green windblossom Wings of Chartreuse, warship of the Elven Armada, floating serenely in a ship-size force bubble.

There is a moment of discontinuity, and then a number of figures appear in the scene. Each swims through the void with powerful gyrations of their sinuous, snake-like lower halves, and then reaches out with several of her many arms (for they are blatantly, stunningly female) to gather up the items. They avoid the ship, but collect the rest, as well as many other bits of floating flotsam, and then congregate before disappearing again.



Meanwhile, in a world distant across space and Time, an alarm starts ringing insistently. A spindly arm reaches over and thumps the switch with a narrow fist, while the old man (complete with long white beard and bushy eyebrows) examines a clipboard, muttering. Eventually, he sighs. "Not again..." He speaks into an intercom, and a flurry of activity begins inside a building whose size is measured in parsecs.

The next in a series of familiar-looking asteroids, just as Ptolemaeus saw, rolls into position on the assembly line.

Magrathea goes to work.



The strongest hold of the ancient Dwarven artifurnace and temple that was Bral, a hold lined with indestructible proto-Emerald sacred to Dumathoin much like Ror’s axe, drifts away into the depths of Wildspace as perhaps the largest remaining chunk of what was just a thriving spaceport. Unscorched, it is not devoid of life like the rest of the debris. On the contrary, long laid plans, failed, and failed, and laid again, have finally come to fruition as another Player comes into view, perhaps a minor player in the overall scheme but a Master Schemer nonetheless, with His many layered plans to subvert Bral’s Spelljamming purposes to His own.

While Star’s team comes out of pleasant dreams, Arkesh’s team comes up out of nightmare where even the Margravine is held helpless; with equal shock to all as the nightmare continues into waking...

…Awareness and thought return abruptly, but they do little good as all impetus is removed from your body. An anvil of Deific scrutiny pins everyone like butterflies pressed down by glass, under the inexorable eye… too many eyes… of a horrific two headed creature. Grinning, forked tongues lolling over sharp, reptilian teeth, He stares mercilessly at each of you in turn, stripping bare every detail as you are measured for value to His purposes. The twin smiles deepen.

Sibiliant thought hisses and rips into your mind by sheer proximity to such a Presence. Deliciouss. At lasst a usseful catch in the nett. We couldn’tt have found bettter if we had ttrolled the Sstyxx nettting Hydrodaemonss, could we, My prettty daughterss?

These creaturess will do nicssely; the Illithidss were ssuchh unwitting helpers tto My Will, in creating a classhh of heroess of ssufficssient power… and then My newesstt daughter, My pett, gave Me their litttle Link tto amusse Me.

My sspiess in Lolth’ss courtt, and the sso-greatt Dumathoin’ss neglectt of hiss hallss and priessttss, were all I needed tto profitt from the Illithidss’ pettty planss. Bral hass been ssuchh a good ssourcsse of trialss for My ssearchh.

I meassure more than enough life energy of ssoulss here tto power the Lifejammer tto greatt sspeed, and perhapss thiss time we will crack the Phlogissston with ssoulss tto power our way when even the power of very Creation, thiss accurssed Dwarven artifurnacsse, failed Me… and then I...

I!!!

…shall be the firsstt among Princes tto bring My planss there in persson, and penettratte at lasstt the barrier tto the placsse no Plane touchhess.


Lifejammers. The most dreaded power source for Spelljammers: they burn life energy, reducing a creature’s mind and abilities to naught as their bodies are consumed in the raging storm of power within, power to propel ships at fantastic speeds across Wildspace and the Phlogiston, forbidden but still used where life is meaningless. Beholders. The Neogi. And now, the Abyss. Yes, Demogorgon hopes to break into the Phlogiston at last by using SOULS for Spiritual energy where other power sources failed to carry Him, using YOUR souls to power His ship; your future is only this: soon a rush of power sears you away, then nothing.

Women pass across your frozen view, naked from the waist, no, not women; seven feet tall, strong, sinuous coils of snake tails, eight arms, eight hands holding greatswords like toys, each sword more wicked than the last; Mariliths! And if you could feel anything, there is the shock of familiarity for one of them as she struts with the others, but her eyes seem glazed, empty, hopeless, near-soulless. A Marilith with the face of Sheerak.

The Mariliths are shepherding Dwarves in filthy emerald and brown robes from creature to creature chained to the walls of the cavern, or what is left of these creatures. The Dwarves chant woodenly, movements stiff and dull, and the creatures form into wholeness, stretch to fill their chains, and then appear to lock in place, pinned by His gaze as He measures the next Truly Resurrected victims.

Besides all of you stapled to the cavern walls, including Gleron’s troll, in another section of the cavern nearby there are nearly a dozen Uruk-Hai also stapled, including the Shaman who was repairing the arch an instant or Eternity ago.

And well over a dozen Witchlight Marauders... eighteen, in fact.

And Thrash.

The Prince of Horror continues. Ah, good. I ssee their toyss are gathered and reconsstitutted. It iss sso much more delisciouss tto burn them dresssed in the thingss they cherisshh.

Sure enough, a big pile of familiar-looking equipment is jumbled along the wall nearby, next to tall stacks of broad, flat hexagonal emerald plates taken down from the walls where the staples have been placed.

I will play with thesse baless of goblinss tto warm the Lifejammer, and then return for the resstt of the fuel, ssuchh lovely creaturess! All shhall owe Me favors, even Dumathoin, for burning thesse Witchhlightt Marauderss, the very besstt of fuel. Keep them on the wallss, My pretttiess.

He picks up two corded bundles of shrieking goblins, and strides out of the cavern.

After several hours, or minutes, the pressure fades, and Thrash is among the first to recover. He barks a guttural command, and the Witchlights begin gobbling at the rock holding their staples; in moments they have freed themselves, Thrash, and the Uruk-Hai – including Gleron, inside a Uruk-Hai body. The startled Mariliths rush toward them as Thrash leers, raising his hand to act.

Suddenly Arkesh and Star fall into the chamber in a gust of blue gray smoky mist with the whip trailing along behind them clinging to one of Star’s legs; the momentum of the tackle bounces the three of them off a wall. Arkesh seems to have regained her missing arm, and she bellows a drow war cry into the huge stone chamber. The Mariliths whirl, and there is an instant of clear path between Star and Thrash.

Star’s voice rings out, cold with fury. I’ll not send your spirit back to One-Eye this Time, nor shall the Prince have you. Never again, Witchlight dealer, in any Future!

As Thrash screams, Star’s hands spread out, and a bar of Light comes into existence between her and Thrash, bright beyond white, sear beyond heat. It punches through Thrash as he vanishes, and burns him out of Time itself. Ptolemaeus can see the cleanly burnt nub of the thread of Thrash’s Timeline, gone from the Pattern from this Moment on. Miraculously, nothing is disturbed around it.

Balefire.

In the momentary blindness, stunning recollections of Balefire from Time Guardians archives swirl through Ptolemaeus’ head. Thrash’s wail of terror cuts off, its echoes vanishing as if most of them had never been. Stricken, Arkesh chokes out: Forbidden madness! Would you unravel the Age to save it?

Star replies coldly, I know precisely what I’m doing. He is gone to the Instant, with no damage backward – else I might have created a brief Timeloop with him in it – nor damage to a single other thread.

The eighteen Witchlight Marauders, suddenly berserk with Thrash’s control gone, begin bellowing in a mad chorus. And then sight returns for all, and utter chaos breaks out.
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[D&D 3.5] Deadly Glory / MOVED: DOJO #1
« on: May 02, 2013, 10:57:25 PM »

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[D&D 3.5] Deadly Glory / MOVED: Bral Info
« on: May 02, 2013, 10:55:47 PM »

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