10.11.2006
Glass
Schmektor, you examine the paintings in more detail. Each has an unusally wide gilt wood frame. Aside from their content, there isn't much else to say about the paintings.
You head to the glass door and pull it open.
...
You gaze out on a desolate landscape in violet hues. The first thing you notice is the oppressive sun. You are standing in the middle of a vast, empty plain. The land is completely, unnaturally flat and stretches towards the horizon in all directions. Faintly, all around can be seen what look like mountain peaks at the edge of vision. There is nothing here, save an empty doorframe leading back to the hall.
Fine particulate dust covers the land, and occasionally blows lazily into little twisters across the face of the plains. The ground itself seems oddly artificial, like one single stretch of pink marble. Everything here is cast in shades of soft violet. The land itself seems to glow a pale pink or purple. The light from the blinding sky, the sky itself, is shaded hues of violet. High overhead is a massive sun. You can make out, halfway down the sky towards the earth, a pair of pale crescent moons, barely visible.
It is uncomfortably hot here. You spy, far off, something. It's unclear just what it is, but it's a bump on the otherwise completely level horizon. You walk for what is probably an hour, maybe two, in the heat. You get close enough to distinguish forms ahead. Buildings. Or the remains of buildings, and perhaps other things. Now just chunks of glass, most white or transparent, others shades of violet or soft blues and reds. Nothing higher than a foot or two off the ground. Broken glass litters what may have once been a village. Even further ahead, you make out what seem like larger, still standing structures. You keep walking.
The sun does not abate, and does not move in the sky. After another twenty or thirty minutes you come to the remains of several buildings; a large cluster of small cabins to your right, and two larger buildings to your left. The buildings are all constructed of thick opaque glass or crystal. In fact, all material here is glass. All is silent, with no sign or habitation or disturbance.
The two buildings on the left each have signs out front. On one, a flower is sketched. On the other, a gauntlet clutching three arrows or bolts of lightning. Each gives the appearance of a small office or store, but the doors are shut and you cannot see inside. One of the buildings to the right seems larger and different than the others, and is marked with a placard depicting a simple cot. Perhaps this is, or was, an inn. There is no front door, just an opening, and looking inside reveals a counter with a large book on top of it, with a quill nearby. These objects are not of glass, but actually a book and golden quill. Another open door in the back opens back outside to where the smaller buildings are; these appear to be guest cabins, and there are five of them.
The book is open, and, assuming you investigate the inn, you can make out signatures scrawled onto the open page. At the top is printed letterhead, which reads simply:
Sign our guestbook.
The top line contains two signatures in two different hands:
Charles Xavier
Yng Furious Lotus
The next eight lines are taken up by an elaborate golden scrawl; it appears to be an intricate rune of some kind, but you can make out a couple capital letters, such as C and G.
The line below has another signature:
Oracle of Gryss, The
Finally, below that, in large even letters:
Vrill, Gregory, MPG
...
There is nothing to be seen in the two buildings, so you head over to the five cabins. You hear the faint sound of voices from one of the cabins, and knock on the door.
The Oracle of Gryss, a half-orc dressed in sweatpants, opens the door. "Oh yeah, it's you again. Uh come on in. Sorry there's no more Fresca, but I just made a jug of iced tea, so help yourself."
The Oracle returns to a large reclining chair across from a TV. Looks like a gameshow is on. He sits back down, slurps some iced tea, and resumes watching the show.
You head to the glass door and pull it open.
...
You gaze out on a desolate landscape in violet hues. The first thing you notice is the oppressive sun. You are standing in the middle of a vast, empty plain. The land is completely, unnaturally flat and stretches towards the horizon in all directions. Faintly, all around can be seen what look like mountain peaks at the edge of vision. There is nothing here, save an empty doorframe leading back to the hall.
Fine particulate dust covers the land, and occasionally blows lazily into little twisters across the face of the plains. The ground itself seems oddly artificial, like one single stretch of pink marble. Everything here is cast in shades of soft violet. The land itself seems to glow a pale pink or purple. The light from the blinding sky, the sky itself, is shaded hues of violet. High overhead is a massive sun. You can make out, halfway down the sky towards the earth, a pair of pale crescent moons, barely visible.
It is uncomfortably hot here. You spy, far off, something. It's unclear just what it is, but it's a bump on the otherwise completely level horizon. You walk for what is probably an hour, maybe two, in the heat. You get close enough to distinguish forms ahead. Buildings. Or the remains of buildings, and perhaps other things. Now just chunks of glass, most white or transparent, others shades of violet or soft blues and reds. Nothing higher than a foot or two off the ground. Broken glass litters what may have once been a village. Even further ahead, you make out what seem like larger, still standing structures. You keep walking.
The sun does not abate, and does not move in the sky. After another twenty or thirty minutes you come to the remains of several buildings; a large cluster of small cabins to your right, and two larger buildings to your left. The buildings are all constructed of thick opaque glass or crystal. In fact, all material here is glass. All is silent, with no sign or habitation or disturbance.
The two buildings on the left each have signs out front. On one, a flower is sketched. On the other, a gauntlet clutching three arrows or bolts of lightning. Each gives the appearance of a small office or store, but the doors are shut and you cannot see inside. One of the buildings to the right seems larger and different than the others, and is marked with a placard depicting a simple cot. Perhaps this is, or was, an inn. There is no front door, just an opening, and looking inside reveals a counter with a large book on top of it, with a quill nearby. These objects are not of glass, but actually a book and golden quill. Another open door in the back opens back outside to where the smaller buildings are; these appear to be guest cabins, and there are five of them.
The book is open, and, assuming you investigate the inn, you can make out signatures scrawled onto the open page. At the top is printed letterhead, which reads simply:
Sign our guestbook.
The top line contains two signatures in two different hands:
Charles Xavier
Yng Furious Lotus
The next eight lines are taken up by an elaborate golden scrawl; it appears to be an intricate rune of some kind, but you can make out a couple capital letters, such as C and G.
The line below has another signature:
Oracle of Gryss, The
Finally, below that, in large even letters:
Vrill, Gregory, MPG
...
There is nothing to be seen in the two buildings, so you head over to the five cabins. You hear the faint sound of voices from one of the cabins, and knock on the door.
The Oracle of Gryss, a half-orc dressed in sweatpants, opens the door. "Oh yeah, it's you again. Uh come on in. Sorry there's no more Fresca, but I just made a jug of iced tea, so help yourself."
The Oracle returns to a large reclining chair across from a TV. Looks like a gameshow is on. He sits back down, slurps some iced tea, and resumes watching the show.
