Precila's predicament

[Zhokril]

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'Whe... where am I?'

Onalraer tells you 'Ah, greetings!'

You tell Onalraer 'Hello... who... who are you?'

Onalraer tells you 'I would hope you do remember our Journeys together through the lands'

You tell Onalraer 'We have journeyed... together? What is your name?'

Onalraer tells you 'Onalraer, Onalraer of Suncinder'

[sAVANT] (Time Lord) Zhokril: 'Have you lost yourself within the Stream again? I tend to do that sometimes still.'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'Stream? What stream...'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'Last thing I remember is a bright blue flash, and a lot of pain...'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'Then a big white room, with lots of people dressed in white...'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'And now I am here...'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'In this field...'

You tell Onalraer 'I see... I am called... er... I'm not sure, to be perfectly honest...'

Onalraer tells you 'I would not wish to trouble to ask if something may have recently happened to you'

[sAVANT] (Time Lord) Zhokril: 'You didn't try to experiment on yourself, did you?'

Onalraer tells you 'Most, disturbing'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'I am not sure...'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'All I have with me is this scrap of paper from some woman named Precila.'

[sAVANT] (Time Lord) Zhokril: 'You...are, Precila.'

[sAVANT] (Time Lord) Zhokril: 'A student of the Tower. A, perhaps formerly trained, invoker.'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'It says, "The clinical trials have been successful thus far... and yet there is need for more expansive progress."'

[sAVANT] (Time Lord) Zhokril: 'Hrmm, well I did warn her.'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: '"I cannot ask anyone to undertake the danger of what I suggest, and so I myself will undergo the treatment...'

[sAVANT] (Time Lord) Zhokril: 'You, I mean, of course.'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'Oh no... did I do something... to myself?'

[sAVANT] (Time Lord) Zhokril: 'I imagine you will find out in time. Do you recollect the pain?'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'That is about all I remember...'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'Something is wrong, about this place...'

Zhokril's lightning bolt DISMEMBERS you!

Precila twitches, shuddering violently.

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'Ah! Ah!'

[sAVANT] (Time Lord) Zhokril: 'Apologies. Did it feel much like that?'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'A lot! Yes!'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'Please don't do that again.'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'Who... who are you?'

[sAVANT] (Time Lord) Zhokril: 'I am Zhokril. I travel within the Stream. Incidentally, I am currently Lord of the great Tower of Savants.'

[sAVANT] (Apprentice) Precila: 'Could I see you? I need to see someone. Anyone...'

[sAVANT] (Time Lord) Zhokril: 'Seeing...me, may not be an accurate representation of "anyone", but you may.'

Strands of time seep from the air around you to form Zhokril.

You shudder at the horror and repress tears.

Gruudik tells you 'Hies'

Precila gestures southward, 'This... this tower...'

You say 'It feels... wrong.'

You say 'Everything feels... wrong.'

Zhokril says with the air of one curious rather than concerned, 'Where, do you come from?'

You say 'I do not know!'

You say 'I have to sever... the tie... to this Tower.'

You say 'I can feel it within me...'

You say 'It isn't right!'

Precila makes swatting motions at some invisible entity that is clearly causing her distress.

As she continues to swat, and gets more frustrated, a beam of light appears between Precila and the tower, beginning to glow.

Precila swings one final time, and the beam of light explodes in a ball of flame!

[sAVANT]: 'Precila has decided to quit our ranks.'

You say 'Ah-ha!'

You say 'It is gone.'

The Timestream utters the words, 'pzrrghcandusaw'.

The ground erupts as you are caught in a searing beam of arcane light.

The Timestream's hellstream *** OBLITERATES *** you!

You groan loudly.

You say 'Oh dear, sweet Light!'

You say 'Make the pain stop!'

Zhokril swirls in thought.

Zhokril says 'Quite interesting...'

Precila groans and begins to swoon, swaying back and forth, clearly on the edge of consciousness.

As Precila sways dizzily, small rocks and pebbles begin to lift off the ground.

A small thread detaches from Zhokril and travels towards you. It hovers before you momentarily, before entering your chest.

Precila whispers weakly, 'What... what have I done?'

You say 'Here... take this... I know not what to do with it.'

Onalraer tells you 'I would hope at least you feel well this day'

Precila: Psionicist Application

To: Immortal

Patient Log Number: 47940

Patient Name: Precila Montigan

Patient Condition: Stable

Report: Patient was brought to the burn ward of the

Hospital at 0600 hours, covered in numerous burns

and with a severe case of amnesia. Unable even to

remember her own name, it was only a matter of

coincidence that one of the nurses had participated

in one of the patient's clinical research trials.

Patient is now stable and communicative, but still

has near total memory loss. She describes her last

memory as a series of flashes of blue light, blinding

and wracking her body with pain. She was found

unconscious in the clan hall of the Hourglass, barely

alive and naked, her clothes burnt in whatever accident

befell her.

Patient will be kept for observation for a few days,

and then released. Healers have taken care of her

rather extensive burns, and we are not equipped to

handle this sort of psychological damage.

Additional Notes: When patient was first checked in,

there were reports of objects in her room mysteriously

starting to float up and down. After patient regained

consciousness, reports ceased.

******************************************

--This note was found in the charred remnants of the

Patient's clothing. Its meaning remains a mystery.-

The clinical trials have been successful thus far, and

yet there is a need for more expansive progress. I

cannot ask anyone to undertake the danger of what

I suggest, and so I myself will undergo the treatment.

In case of disaster, refer to journals so that my studies

may be continued.

You say 'Please... Zhokril? Help me...'

Another thread detaches itself from Zhokril, once again entering your chest. It is almost as if he is experimenting.

The Timestream utters the words, 'aque bragh'.

The Timestream's acid blast MANGLES you!

Precila groans in pain, collapsing to the ground. Her eyes begin to blink rapidly as if she is having some sort of seizure.

Zhokril whispers to himself, 'Split perhaps? Hrmm..'

While Precila lays writhing on the ground, more pebbles lift off the ground, and begin dashing about the air rather violently.

Zhokril sends yet another strand from his sphere towards you.

The Timestream utters the words, 'gajr hzabra'.

Your smash maims The Timestream!

Gruudik tells you 'lefts towers>'

Zhokril nods.

You tell Gruudik 'Unnnnnh! Hel... m...'

Gruudik tells you 'Whats haPpens?'

Precila twitches, her body continuing to shake vigorously.

Zhokril has created an elixir of darkness.

You tell Gruudik 'I... hur... so ba...'

Zhokril gives you an elixir of darkness.

Zhokril says 'Eat.'

Zhokril floats the elixir towards you, still absorbed in his thoughts.

Precila raises the vial to her lips, dribbling most of it down her front.

You eat an elixir of darkness.

A warm feeling fills your body.

Gruudik tells you 'riddlEs mer.....'

Zhokril says 'Can you remember anything else?'

You say 'Only the pain... and...'

Zhokril says 'Perhaps....you saw something?'

Precila shivers, as if remembering something terrifying.

You say 'I saw... bright blue lights... then pain... then...'

Zhokril gives you some rainbow colored leaves.

Zhokril nods slightly, conjuring some leaves out of thin air, and detaching yet another strand from himself.

Precila lifts the leaves to her lips, and they spontaneously ignite, as if her instincts know she needs the drugs.

You light some rainbow colored leaves and begin to smoke it.

Your withdrawal pains subside.

Precila whispers faintly, 'The Tower... I can see it in my mind...'

Another strand of Zhokril enters your chest, a more violent shiver passes through you.

You say 'Not this Tower... another place... darker... consuming.'

Your thoughts seem to separate from your consciousness as your chest grows icy. As if you have split into two beings in one capsule.

Precila shudders violently, her entire body wracked with spasms.

Zhokril smiles slightly to himself, apparently unconcerned.

Precila whispers, her voice followed by a soft, barely noticible echo: 'I... must... be... whole!'

Zhokril emanates from the air, the ground, from your own armaments, 'No, whole is an illusion. You must learn to use your senses.'

The space around you continues to speak, 'Your thoughts - as vital to life as a heart.'

Precila twitches as the voice reverberates in her mind and soul.

You say 'I feel... cold...'

Precila whispers, this time with more fear than weakness, 'I feel... strong.'

As you speak the word cold, your body suddenly drops sharply in temperature. As you speak the word strong, your muscles flood with adrenaline.

Zhokril smiles once more, 'Yes, thoughts. But they must be controlled.'

Precila says softly, yet with a voice growing in strength, 'How can I learn?'

Zhokril says 'In time, there can be a place. If you can grow to understand what has happened.'

Precila rises from the ground, stumbling slightly, but then standing firm.

Your hair begins to solidify as rigidly as ice as your body temperature continues to drop.

Your thoughts utters the words, 'uquqrz'.

Your thoughts conjures a magical bolt of ice and launches it at you.

Your thoughts's icicle DISMEMBERS you!

Your thoughts utters the words, 'uquqrz'.

Your thoughts conjures a magical bolt of ice and launches it at you.

Your thoughts's icicle MASSACRES you!

Your thoughts utters the words, 'uquqrz'.

Your thoughts conjures a magical bolt of ice and launches it at you.

Your thoughts's icicle *** DEMOLISHES *** you!

Zhokril says 'Control, Precila!'

Brrrrrrrrr.

You say 'I must...'

A bright blue light surrounds Precila, arcing like lightning. 'What... have I done?'

Zhokril says 'That, Precila, is what you must discover.'

The strands of time about Zhokril form into a ball which reduces upon itself into nothingness.

Maerothir tells you 'MighT you hahhvE a sslawB of ZSstarZsztonE or tWo?'

You tell Maerothir 'Er... let me seek out a banker and see.'

You tell Maerothir 'I have some.'

Maerothir tells you 'Aye, might I Do aoNythiNng to puhhrzjhaszsEh thEm?'

You tell Maerothir 'You may have them, if you can help me...'

Maerothir tells you 'WhAht isSz iT YoUh need.'

You tell Maerothir 'Your hands.'

Maerothir tells you 'My haNds..'

Maerothir says 'Annnd WhHaot fOR?'

Maerothir looks at you.

You say 'I need you... to lay your hands on me...'

Maerothir whistles appreciatively.

Maerothir chants an ancient psalm as he presses his hands against your back.

As your hands make contact with Precila, her back arches and her body is wracked with spasms.

Maerothir carefully looks over Precila, scanning for obvious injury.

Maerothir says 'What has happened?'

Maerothir looks at you.

Precila speaks softly in a disembodied voice, 'I must use the lightnings on myself, to test the enhancement.'

Maerothir says 'Is there naught I can do to aid you?'

Precila continues softly, her body continuing to shiver, 'Conjure the storm... set up the... oh dear...'

Precila turns her attention to Maerothir, 'I didn't get the rod up in time.'

Precila settles back to the ground, her eyes clearing.

You say 'The lightning rod...'

Maerothir says 'Lightning.'

Maerothir shudders at the horror and represses tears.

You say 'The storm came to fast... and I was struck by the lightning with the full force.'

Maerothir frowns.

Maerothir looks at you.

Maerothir says 'You seem mostly alright.'

Maerothir whistles appreciatively.

Maerothir says 'Is there naught I can do now?'

You say 'I do not think so. Thank you for your help.'

Maerothir sighs.

Maerothir says 'If you have need of me please send word yes?'

Maerothir says 'For now I must go scout out helms, and gauntlets.'

<883hp 1423m 448mv> <700hours 156419exp>

Maerothir grumbles and growls. You wonder what's wrong...

Precila: My Studies

To: Immortal

Lord Zhokril,

With the help of Maerothir and his Crusaderly arts of

healing, I was able to rediscover what happened before

the... accident. I conjured a storm of great strength

as I always do before my experiments. And as I was in

the process of setting up the lightning rod and grounding

myself... the storm came on suddenly.

Within mere moments, rain poured down upon me. Hail the

size of gnomes began to fall, leaving devestation in

their wake. And then the lightnings came...

Swift and with a fury unlike any I've ever seen... these

lightnings came closer and closer. One bolt struck the

ground before me, causing the dirt to erupt in a gout of

mud and flame. The next struck behind me, knocking me

on my back and driving the wind from my lungs. And the

third bolt struck me, hammering at my magical protections

as I just barely managed to throw them in place. Spear

after spear of lightning struck my shield, as if the God

of Thunder himself were casting the bolts down from the

heavens in anger.

Finally, I succumbed to weariness. Badly burned and

unconscious, I just barely crawled out of the forest

alive. I was rushed to a nearby medical center, where

my burns were treated and my bruises healed. But my

mind was split. In unconsciousness, I caused some

minor accidents - upturning trays and causing scalpels

to float out of healers' hands. And conscious, I could

not even recall my own name.

I left the hospital, and found myself in the meadow, where

I had received these injuries. And now I find myself torn...

I cannot sleep, for fear of what I will do before I wake.

Without learning to control my thoughts, I fear I will

cause someone great harm. I need someone to teach me,

someone to help me rein in my mind.

Signed,

***Precila Montigan***