Chrysalis

Chrysalis is a random encounter in Tales from the Tiers.
==Overview==
==Flow==
==Reward==
==Transcript==
No longer blasted by the endless winds of the Edict of Storms, the Blade Grave seems an endless expanse of twisted metal spines and rough-hewn cliffsides. Life has yet to return to Stalwart - you hear no birds and glimpse no rodents.
But today you make out a billowing cloud of brightly shimmering movement. It's a few hundred feet away still, but moving down the ravine towards you.
 
Identify the cloud.
 
Retreat back down the ravine.
 
Find a nearby cave to hide in.
 
Ask a companion about the cloud.
 
You look to your companions, deciding which to ask...
 
Barik
 
Lantry
 
Eb
 
Kills-In-Shadow
 
For a moment you think it some kind of massive Bane, a huge creature of roiling arcane malice, but then you realize it's not a single entity. You search your mind for the stories Tiers fauna when you recall the Chrysalis, winged insects that travels in swarms. The Chrysalis are pests, known to burrow into trees, ships, and homes to lay their eggs.
Consider the massive deforestation of Stalwart by the Edict of Storms, one wonders what this swarm has been eating these days...
 
"Those are Chrysalis, Fatebinder," Barik tells you, a hint of awe in his voice. "I haven't seen a swarm in, well, since the Edict of Storms. They're pests, but mostly harmless. Burrow into wooden posts and planks. But I didn't think they could form that large a swarm... should we find cover?"
 
"Ah, the Chrysalis! Or at least, a local species of the type. They actually quite harmless," Lantry opines. "Provided you're not a house. Or a boat. Or crops. Or if they've been denied plant matter for too long, then they turn carnivorous."
As he begins to launch into the various subspecies that have been observed in the Tiers, the cloud grows ever closer.
 
"The Chrysalis!" Eb says the name like it's a social disease. "Disgusting, burrowing bugs that devour carpentry. When they run out of wet lumber to eat, they've been known to eat animal flesh... especially when swarming... like they are now."
 
Crouched with palms flat against the grit, Kills-In-Shadow sniffs at the air. "Burrow bugs. Eat trees and human walls of wood. Swarm makes song like wind in leaves." Her snout twitches slightly as the cloud grows closer.
"Burrow bugs smell of blood. May burrow flesh. Should find hard stone shelter."
 
You work your way carefully among the rocks as the baleful buzz crescendos. Through the gap behind you, you make out a turbid fog of shining carapaces.
A few insects break from the swarm, alighting on the stone near you. Their wings boast symmetrical pearlescent swirls, and their mandibles, sharp enough to shear through wood, chitter in mesmerizing syncopation.
 
Grabbing your gear, you make haste for the entrance to the ravine. Glancing back, you see the swarm, despite its size, seems to be gaining on you. A low, droning sound surrounds you as you realize you won't make it to the mouth of this valley before the horde is upon you. The walls here, however, are filled with gaps you may be able to use for climbing or shelter.
 
Scale the wall.
 
You reach the top of the gorge and roll away from the swarm's path. You watch as the turbulent cloud rages between the stones, the swarm coming terrifyingly close to you. Perhaps more at home hunting closer to the ground, the swarm loses interest in this high vantage point and the cloud of Chrysalis slowly flutter back to ground level.
 
Attack with Fire magic.
 
Your fingers dance upon the air, forming the sigil of the Archon of Fire.
 
Shields, blades, human bones, and the carapaces of armor jut into your path, halting your progress.
You attempt to work your way carefully among the rocks as a baleful buzz rises to crescendo.
Your muscles aching and your knees and arms seeping blood from a half dozen scrapes, you realize there's no way you'll squeeze into a crevasse before the swarm is upon you.
 
Your fingers dance upon the air, forming the sigils of the long-dead Archon of Frost.
 
Your fingers dance upon the air, forming the sigils of an ancient Archon of Lightning.
 
Your fingers dance upon the air, forming the sigils of an Archon of Force.
 
Your fingers dance upon the air, forming the sigils of an Archon, drawing from the world around you the pulse of arcane energies.
 
Before you can pull yourself to the top, the turbulent cloud rages around you, insects alight on your clothes, hands, and face, crawling into your ears and nose, across the lids of your closed eyes. Where they find exposed flesh, they bite and bore into you, their mandibles a hundred tiny sickles carving your skin.
You force yourself forward, throwing yourself over the canyon wall, heedless of whatever danger may be above. You roll desperately across the ground, leaving a swath crushes insects as your tumble.
When you finally free yourself from the insects, you're left with the pain of hundreds of stinging wounds across your flesh, and the incessant drone of the swarm still lingering in your ears.
 
The swarm slowly approaching, you search out one of the caves that riddles the sides of the ravine. Carved from the stone by Kyros' incessant winds, the walls of the narrow fissure rise and fall like the waves of a frozen sea.
 
Jagged stone and bronze bites into your hands as you haul yourself up the side of the ravine, feet digging into the walls, searching desperately for purchase. Sweat runs into your eyes as you pull yourself closer and closer to the lip of the rock face.
 
After what feels like the better part of an hour, the last of the insects vanish, leaving you alone in the ravine, the song of the swarm still humming in your ears.
 
After what feels like the better part of an hour, the last of the insects vanish, leaving you alone in the ravine, the song of the swarm still humming in your ears.
 
The horde of shining creatures comes nearer, their droning growing in your ears with all of the subtlety of a maelstrom of daggers.
The sound reaches a crescendo as your magic does, and you snap your fingers into the final mudra, releasing the torrent of magic.
 
Having dissipated the threat, you wipe the sweat from your brow and continue toward your destination.
 
Your magic crashes through the swarm like a battering ram, crushing some into paste, sending others crashing into the stone walls of the ravine or scattering them high into the air. The buzz is replaced with a muffled boom as air rushes in to fill the sudden vacuum.
In an instant, the swarm is silent.
 
The horde of shining creatures comes nearer, their droning growing in your ears with all of the subtlety of a maelstrom of daggers.
The sound reaches a crescendo as your magic does, and you snap your fingers into the final mudra, releasing the torrent of magic.
 
The horde of shining creatures comes nearer, their droning growing in your ears with all of the subtlety of a maelstrom of daggers.
The sound reaches a crescendo as your magic does, and you snap your fingers into the final mudra, releasing the torrent of magic.
 
The horde of shining creatures comes nearer, their droning growing in your ears with all of the subtlety of a maelstrom of daggers.
The sound reaches a crescendo as your magic does, and you snap your fingers into the final mudra, releasing the torrent of magic.
 
Your torrent of fire tumbles through the swarm, reducing most to cinders, sending others crashing into the stone walls of the ravine or scattering them high into the air in the little burning spirals of their final flights.
 
Releasing the torrential blizzard directly into the face of the oncoming creatures, your magic flash-freezes the tiny insects, encasing them in shimmering crystal before shattering them against the stone walls of the ravine.
 
Lightning courses from your hands into the oncoming swarm. The energy leaps from insect to insect, obliterating each in an instant before arcing to the walls and the earth. Those creatures that avoid being reduced to ash crash into the stone walls of the ravine or scatter high into the air.
 
The horde of shining creatures comes nearer, their droning growing in your ears with all of the subtlety of a maelstrom of daggers.
The sound reaches a crescendo as your magic does, and you snap your fingers into the final mudra, releasing the torrent of magic.
 
The sound reaches a crescendo as your magic does, but before you can snap your fingers into the final figure, the wave of oncoming creatures crashes over you like a battering ram, pushing you backwards, alighting on your cloths, and biting at your skin. Jaw locked in concentration you manage to finish your spell, dissipating the cloud of creatures into the air.
Gulping for air in ragged breaths, you wipe sweat from your brow and blood from your skin before continuing toward your destination.
 
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You don't know what the cloud is, but it doesn't look safe and it seems to be nearing...
 
Attack with Frost magic.
 
Attack with Lightning magic.
 
Attack with Force magic.
Category:Tales from the Tiers random encounters