Subject: eating

Bartok finishes eating, burps, says, "Exuse me" and looks at the group, hoping someone will let him know when they are going to leave.

Subject: Looking down on Huss; A different perspective

Pensive stands motionless on a great desolate plain, hot foul smelling wind shrieks past him, but he pays it no attention. Around him, stretching out as far as the eye can see, stand his legions. They are smaller, impatient creatures, and while he stands perfectly still, they shift and chatter and clack about him. Even so, their gaze never leaves him. They too are waiting.

He stretches out with his senses, past the impatient hordes around him, past the empty desert they stand in, to the very limit of his powers. There. The others, also waiting, their general reaching out to him. A brief touch of minds, and recognition. The enemy has come. Pensive roars out to his troops, and they screech and scream in response, and then charge across the plains at the enemy that is also charging at them.

The two armies slam together with an impact that shakes the very air, and in seconds the slaughter begins. Demons of every horrific form imaginable rip and slash at each other in mindless fury. Dying by the thousands every moment of the battle. Pensive wades into the fray, grabbing and tearing apart any enemy that comes within the reach of his hands. Almost without thought, magics flow out of him; fire and ice and terrible shadow magic that twists the mind shatter all those around him. And those magics that are hurled at him in return he shrugs off with contempt, pausing only long enough to destroy the impertinent spell caster before moving on.

The battle goes on and on. Days, years, time has no meaning in the endless chaos of this eternal war. At one point, he spots the enemy general and charges across the field at him, stomping and rending all those lesser troops that stand in between. He and his enemy collide and go down in a blur of claws and magic. All around them the battle stops, while the troops scream encouragement to their leaders. Finally, Pensive gains the advantage and hurls his enemy to the ground, leaping on top of him and sinking his teeth into the flesh of his throat. Pensive drinks deep of blood and... something else. Something and rushes into him like liquid fire, filling him with energy. His enemy deflates like a punctured bladder, and eventually turns to ash. Pensive stands up, towering over his corpse and the armies standing on all sides, then screams triumph at the blood red and black sky.

His army routes the enemy that day. But even as he moves across the field in triumph, something touches him. A terrible groping power that rips a hole in the sky and yanks him through it. There is blackness for a time, and then when his vision returns, he stands in a circle of power, surrounded by tiny wizards. They speak to him, demanding his service and obedience. Demanding answers to their questions. But Pensive is far more than these tiny pretenders to power realize. He wipes away their runes and protections with a laugh. Their demands change to screams...

And there are so many of them. A giant city filled with small bright lives to take. Pensive is filled to overflowing with power stolen from them. Their mages and priests hurl their best magics at him, but in the end they all wind up as fuel for the furnace burning in his core. Until the last few priests are cornered, huddling in their temple. Pensive moves toward them, his mind empty except for his hunger and rage. A golden room, and bright light, and something even more vast and ancient than himself moves...

Eternity locked in stone. Endless days burned by the hated sun at midday. Nothing but rage and memories of power to fuel him. Images pass through his mind in a flash. Power drained away by the same wizardry that summoned him. A greedy mage makes a crack. A servant on the outside now, the wizard brings him more souls to consume. Some of his strength returns over the long slow millennia.

His reach spreads. All the tiny little sparks of life moving around on his island prisoner. Some are darker, and those he can speak to in their dreams. He tells them of power easily gained. Some come to him. One comes with her belly filled with power, enough power to shatter his prison and turn him lose on the world again. A strange blank spot in his vision appears, and the power filled boy is taken away. But there are many others to take in his place. His power grows outside the prison, plunging the island into darkness, and his armies move across unhindered. The stream of lives sent to feed him turns from a trickle to a river. Soon. Soon...

Pensive knows that soon it will be enough. The walls around him weaken by the day. And he is so very hungry.

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

Pensive wakes before dawn. He walks outside and turns to face the east. The cloud cover over Kessel glows a malignant red. The demon stirs and struggles in its cage. When will the priest arrive?

Subject: Waiting on the Sunmaster

OODM:

Currently, the group has been waiting one full day for the sunmaster. Yesterday, Rennik and Gully fixed the halfling's axe.

Does anyone want to take any special actions on this second day?