SISTENE

It had been raining for days, for four days to be exact. Not that persistent drizzle that you might imagine; it was a full on storm raging out there. It was raining hard enough that a hypothetical person might struggle to make themselves heard over the relentless thudding of raindrops hammering against a hypothetical windowpane. And still it showed no sign of relenting.

It was a magical storm, clearly. Anyone with any shred of magical ability would have recognized it as such. In fact scratch that, anyone with eyes to observe, a concept of how storms were supposed to be and the base understanding of what magic is would have reached this conclusion. This storm was not being subtle. The dark clouds, that had blotted out the sun for the best part of a week, were tinted a vivid violet. The rain pouring from gutters and running down empty streets was white yet clear and here and there in puddles and rivulets were rainbows of colour flowing through it. Occasionally a discord would ring out; a peal of thunder before a bolt of harlequin lightning would strike. The light from those brief strikes illuminated the world even through the thickest blackout curtains and eyes scrunched tight. It was clearly a magical storm anyone could see that. But there was only a handful of people who could have even hazarded a guess as to the why, and to what was to follow.

On the fourth day of the storm, if anyone had been studying the endless violet clouds that hung above they might have noticed something, a shape off in the distance to the west, out over the unknown. By the morning of the fifth day of the storm it was undeniable. It was massive, it was seemingly made of light, a huge white shape. It was faceless, motionless, but somehow undeniably aware if not exactly alive. There were whorls and spirals, tentacles and a pair of massive outstretched wings, limbs that whilst they were distinctly countable gave a distinct impression of being countless. In some places it was golden.

This was a spirit, larger and more powerful than any spirit anyone had seen before. And most importantly: unbound. Ripe for the picking for any capable mage brave, arrogant or just plain reckless enough to attempt to bind this behemoth to their will. All across the Principalities ambitious, reclusive and ruthless mages began to stir...

CHARACTER SELECTION TIME:

Let's go with not-Duke of not-Detroit.

Let's go with not-Duke of not-Detroit.

robot wizard

Firehawk!!!!

idk who these characters are but i like the one with the weed sprayer

girl with the nice sweater

I think the poseable mannequin is the easiest to draw fanart of.

> Let's be the very first one

Duke duke duke duke

Show Content

SpoilerOkay so I know there were more Baron Jormungandr votes here than there were Xannon The Great votes, but across here and mspafa there were more votes total for Xannon. I was planning to do the whole split paths thing with the different forums but thats out now that mspafa is dead. I might swing through all these characters as the story progresses, so I'm certain we'll encounter the Baron at some point. But overall if I'm just doing one version of this adventure I feel like it works better as not starring my Duke of Detroit knock off.

robot wizard

Xannon The Great, once known as H&C Futuristics Unit XTG-16, was most generally known as that robot that runs the curse shop (Xannon The Great’s Wonder Emporium of Hexes, Jinxes and other Magical Maladies to give it is full name). They were working in the back room, putting the finishing touches to a new range of Xannon The Great’s Skin Scratch Compulsion Pulverance, when they learned about the spirit.

They ground the carefully calculated mixture of herbs and other miscellaneous ingredients in a manner that was both very precise and extremely vigorous at the same time and they whistled along to a little light jazz playing from the battered old radio in the corner. The signal wasn’t the best at the best of times, Xannon had been surprised they could receive a broadcast from the mainland at all, but thanks to the weather outside the music was at least seventy five percent static. Xannon didn’t mind, they felt it had a certain charm all of its own.

Technically the shop was still open for business, but Xannon was not expected any customers. Since the storm had began their numbers had dwindled; even the residents of Freetown didn’t want to risk venturing out into this weather. If someone did happen to come in, Xannon probably wouldn’t hear the ringing of the bell above the door over the sound of the pounding rain and the static-jazz, but they were sure anyone would make themselves known; only a fool tried to steal from a shop that sold curses.

Suddenly the music stopped halfway through ‘Talk About My Voice’ by Hank Vaska, and Cithaeron, the announcer for JELR (Jorport Easy Listening Radio), announced an emergency broadcast from the Jormungandr Council. A recorded message played; the slightly alarmed voice of Princess Jormungandr, accompanied by a handful of identical voices bickering in the background.

“People of the Principalities, this is Jormungandr Cobalt. Please brace yourself for a level three? yes a level three catastrophe. A being of immense size and terrible beauty is flying, floating (?), over the Principalities. Though it hasn’t yet consumed the minds of those below some of us believe that this is a distinct possibility. We advise you to stay in your home, drink plenty of water and do not under any circumstances try to engage this horrifying sky leviathan. We are split roughly fifty fifty on whether tin foil fashioned into the shape of a hat will protect you, but my personal take is that it’s unlikely to hurt so you might as well try it and it could well be the latest fashion. We will bring you further information as and when we have it.”

This broadcast was, of course, interspersed with momentary bursts of static, but the thrust of the message was still loud and clear. Xannon stopped what they were doing, put down the half finished pulverance and drove over to the back doors, which they pushed open. The view from here was fantastic. The Emporium was on the edge of one of Freetown’s many cliffs; below Xannon could see the harbour district, normally packed day and night, now occupied by only a couple of individuals, some with umbrellas, some in thick robes or coats with hoods turned up against the neverending rain.

Xannon looked eastward towards the Principality of Jormungandr. Of course they couldn’t see the spirit itself, not from this distance, but the hue of the stormclouds was different there, a deep ethereal blue. Xannon had no personal experience of spirits, but it certainly matched the description Madame Agwyrs (the former proprietor of the curse parlour, back when it had been a curse parlour) had once given them. There was a bolt of blinding lightning somewhere out across the ocean, but Xannon barely noticed.

A spirit of such incredible power that its glow could be seen from here, even through this storm… Xannon considered. Then an alarming, and yet enticing thought, that this spirit and this storm might be one and the same. They could scarcely conceive of such power. It was a power certainly worth risking a trip into the Principalities once again, and they found that they were already considering how they would do so, how they would seize this tremendous power for themselves. They would become not just Xannon The Great but Xannon The Magnificent, maybe Xannon The Fantastic, perhaps even an adjective even more grand than that!

But this would not be an easy task. Freetown was an island and Xannon was pretty sure no ships would be sailing in these weather conditions, at least without a little persuasion. Not to mention that any wizard worth their salt would have come to the same conclusions. Xannon didn’t doubt that they would have a little competition in this spirit hunt. They closed shut the back door of the Emporium and considered their next actions. There was no time to waste.

> Pull out your stash of tin foil.

There was no time to waste, yes, but on the other hand pursuing the spirit without making proper preparations would be incredibly dangerous. Xannon The Great took the time to wrap their hat in tin foil just in case the warning from the Jormungandrs might somehow prove correct, and regardless it probably couldn't hurt. At the very least they felt a little more fashionable.

Xannon The Great considered their situation. As it stood there were a number of problems in their path to acquiring the spirit:

1. Being stuck on this island in the middle of the worst storm they had ever experienced. They would need to find a way to the mainland.
   
2. Any other magically inclined individuals who might also be seeking to tame the spirit and who may prove hostile if encountered. Having some means of combat could prove crucial.
   
3. Reaching the spirit itself. The emergency broadcast had described a floating being, which was most likely the spirit itself. Xannon would need a way to reach it in order to tame it.
   
4. Having the mental fortitude to dominate the spirit and managing to do so.

A potential fifth problem occurred to the machine as they admired their fashionable new look. They had never heard of a robot commanding a spirit before. They hoped that their non-organic nature would not be a barrier in the taming process as there was little they could do about this particular issue.

Show Content

SpoilerOkay so the idea with this particular adventure is I want to keep it open ended. You have a goal, you have some obstacles, how you deal with them is up to you. I'm not railroading any specific solutions or encounters. You can potentially ally yourself with other magically inclined individuals who are also trying to tame this spirit or go it alone.

Since I'm trying to be flexible much of Xannon's resources and relationships with the people of Freetown (an island of crooks and outcasts) are not set in stone. Feel free to invent and if it makes sense I'll try to find a way to make it work or adapt it to fit the world.

Maybe start by taming a couple small spirits? Work your way up to the big boi?

Maybe start by taming a couple small spirits? Work your way up to the big boi?

>Speaking of which is the pink squirrel a spirit?
>Is it even ethical or right to bind a spirit? Can't there be a mutual work relationship

Maybe start by taming a couple small spirits? Work your way up to the big boi?

In any ordinary circumstance Xannon The Great would not dare perform an illusion that they had not first perfected through countless hours of practice. However in this circumstance there were several factors that prohibited such careful preparation; the difficulty of spirits, the limited amount of time available before some other mage claimed this gargantuan spirit for themselves, not to mention the likelihood that bonding with multiple spirits might be impossible. There were rumours of course, Xannon The Great had heard such whispers, but they were always second, third or even fourth hand accounts told excitably and with very few details.



While they could not take the time to properly practice without losing this opportunity forever Xannon The Great could at least research the topic a little. Amongst Madame Aegwyr’s collection of eldritch tomes they found a slim volume entitled: Understanding Spirits; A Hands On Examination of These Mysterious Entities by Archibald Q Whipple. At a cursory glance it appeared to be an exhaustive documentation of recorded wild spirit encounters and testimonies from those who had survived the binding process. Xannon The Great resolved to peruse the text in a little more depth when they had the opportunity to do so.

>Speaking of which is the pink squirrel a spirit?

Like most things in the shop Blossom is one of Madame Aegwyr’s curiosities, she always described it as a ‘fae creature’ and she would warn of the potential consequences of making deals with it. She in fact discouraged talking to it at all, claiming the only reason she kept it around was as a magical battery. Blossom made Xannon The Great a little nervous to be honest, and the way it seemed to move between containment orbs while they weren’t looking didn’t help.

>Is it even ethical or right to bind a spirit? Can't there be a mutual work relationship

Xannon The Great’s understanding on the subject was that binding a spirit was like guiding the growth of a plant, or maybe more like trying to put a muzzle on a fire. They were entities of limited if any sentience and their uncontrolled existence could cause damage to anyone and anything around them.

However, with that said the accepted wisdom regarding Unbound AIs was that they are cold emotionless monsters that wouldn’t hesitate to kill if there was some benefit to be gained from it. Xannon The Great hoped that should it turn out that spirits were sapient beings being ritually enslaved they would choose to stand alongside the spirit no matter the power and prestige they’d be giving up.

But such a decision was a long way away and many more immediate obstacles still remained.

>