"It is a place of power, it certainly draws all kinds of attention, so it is not unlikely for all these things to be at the same place. If the one we seek is sleeping for centuries, then he might need something to sustain him during this unnatural sleep. He might be somehow inside the nexus. And I think that Dracarys just happens to be at the same place. Maybe Dracarys is his blade, calling to us...
Ilona listen's quietly to the conversation between ghosts as she dons her armor. Walking up alongside Ragnar she slips her hand inside his with a smile.
"You're cute when you're sleeping."
Ragnar blinks at Ilona like she had told him he had grown a second head.
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A sound of footsteps announces that someone is coming down the corridor. A few moments after that, several slight dwarves, armed with those strange blade appear and fan in front of you. Behind them comes the Speaker. She walks slowly, as if very tired, and her blind-looking eyes move from one Bonebearer to the other.
"We have read your thoughts. We know your minds. But we are still undecided what to do about the dead-spawn. There is a solution, though..." For a time she is silent, obviously thinking how to say what she has to say. "But firstly, tell me once again what do you want from us, why are you here?"
Grunting and pointing at himself, Chops replies. "Uh. Me?"
Lyj, quiet for some time, watches the unfolding scene. With so little information to go on, the tiefling seems to be having trouble knowing what move to make in this company of strange folk - especially with new powers and revelations happening nearly every minute. His piercingly intelligent gaze continues to sweep the room, waiting for the right moment to make his contribution.
Ilona takes a step forward, her voice calm yet carrying an intensity of spirit that is unmistakable.
"We were given a task, to find one who sleeps and may have the power to help us fight the darkness that seeps through everything like a poison. It led us here. We stand together and fight together against the shadow because somebody has to."
Diplomacy
Duncan steps up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Ilona.
"Now we sense that what we seek is somewhere under us. We would kindly ask for your permission to enter the tunnels and find it. You already know that we mean no harm, and that we stand for the light. The time has come for light to stand up to darkness once more. You can help us and be a part of it, for I sense wisdom in your people, and strength as well, for you have survived all these years surrounded by enemies.
So that is what we seek. To help bring new dawn on this world."
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The Speaker looks at Ilona and frowns a bit. "Something rings false in your words, girl. I can't put my finger on it, but I can feel you trying to hard to sound honest. Hmmm... Your thoughts are in accordance to what you are saying, but thoughts can be trained to obey the subconsciousness mind... That is true, yes... Yes..."
She turns to Solvi. "And what do you seek here? I can sense the power in your blood, but I can feel the darkness in you as well. Is there none of you who is pure?"
Is there none of you who is pure?"
"I am... tainted... by what the forces of the Dark One have done to me, but I try to live as though I was not." Ragnar says uncertainly. "I am not pure, but I believe my intentions are."
Solvistania stares at the Speaker with a cool look in her blood red eyes. ”I make no excuses for the taint in my blood. There are few sources of pure goodness left in Eredane. As for what I search for, it is the same thing you search for…. Power to defeat the Shadow and those behind it!”
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Solvistania stares at the Speaker with a cool look in her blood red eyes. ”I make no excuses for the taint in my blood. There are few sources of pure goodness left in Eredane. As for what I search for, it is the same thing you search for…. Power to defeat the Shadow and those behind it!”
"Power is dangerous thing, young one. It corrupts even those strong in will and mind. Your will may be strong, but I sense fractures in your mind that are beyond even my power to heal."
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The Speaker stands silently for a moment, and then her gaze falls on Gilian. "The earth... The earth is strong in you. I can feel the green of your thoughts. If I would offer you the knowledge of healing, such as you could never find on you own, would you leave that one over there?" She points at Ragnar.
roll Diplomacy with Paizo's roller, please. There is always a chance of natural 1 or 20.[/ooc]
The Speaker stands silently for a moment, and then her gaze falls on Gilian. "The earth... The earth is strong in you. I can feel the green of your thoughts. If I would offer you the knowledge of healing, such as you could never find on you own, would you leave that one over there?" She points at Ragnar.
Gilian stares silently at the Speaker for a long time, as if her brain had stopped for a moment. Then something breaks her immobility and one tear appears and rolls on her cheek. Then, as she cannot stand it any more, her mask shatters and she bursts out laughing. Her voice is bright and the laugh rolls like an aria, finding echoes in the bare room. When it eventually dies away, Gilian wipes away some tears.
"Is that supposed to be a trick question ? Have you not read my mind ? Have you not seen how many times I've prevented him from dying, giving some of my strength so that he may live ? Can you believe one minute I would exchange any of my companions for mere power ?"
In the last word, there is more than contempt, just a hint of a crack in the voice.
"Have you not seen in my mind what my mother became, when she sacrificed everything for power. So hear my words and read my mind: NO, I WOULD NOT."
Ragnar says nothing, but puts his hand on the group's diminutive leader in quiet thanks.
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The Speaker nods. She is silent for a while. Then she sighs. "An accordance has been achieved among the council. You may enter the Last City. But there is a condition. The Necromancer and the Seductress must limit themselves. The Necromancer stinks of evil, and she of lust. If those two accept Collars of Suppression, they may enter the city. The rest of you are not subject to this. You are all welcome as you are." She stops for a heartbeat, and then she continues. "I see the questions in your minds. The Collars are not harmful in any way to those who wear them. We use them as a training tool for the channelers who can not control their powers. While you wear the Collars, you will loose the power to channel and the other arcane abilities that you may have."
The Speaker nods. She is silent for a while. Then she sighs. "An accordance has been achieved among the council. You may enter the Last City. But there is a condition. The Necromancer and the Seductress must limit themselves. The Necromancer stinks of evil, and she of lust. If those two accept Collars of Suppression, they may enter the city. The rest of you are not subject to this. You are all welcome as you are."
Lyj's eyelids flicker at this, and he does what he can to carefully control his thoughts. Interesting that there should be a place where one like himself can pass unhindered, where the Dorn should be collared and suppressed.
Ragnar looks around at his friends, both living and dead. "As long as it will not harm any of them, I will do it, but only on my honor will it stay. One of this company will keep it's key. I trust them, and I will not willingly give the control of my bondage over to those that fear me."
Gilian had waited for Ragnar to reach a decision and she nods as he accepts this sacrifice.
"Before you use it Ragnar, let me try it. I want to make sure our abilities come back when we take it off. Then I'll keep the key for you, if you agree."
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Speaker smiles slightly and produces a thin iron collar, seemingly without hinges. She opens it and gives it to Gilian. "There is no key. Only a Speaker of the Council may open it and close it. If you wish to do so, you must become the member of the Council. Here, try it."
No matter how much effort Gilian puts into it, she can not force the collar to close.
"You show us nothing but distrust yet ask us to trust that these will not harm us or attempt to control us. You claim our abilities will return when removed yet endure that should you wish they could remain on indefinitely. You claim to be people of honor. Then on your honor swaer to us that these will not be used to harm us and will be removed when we leave your city or gain your trust, whichever comes first."
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The Speaker looks at Ilona and smiles. Grimly. "You need us. We do not need you. If you wish to enter our city, you will be our guests. And you will need to obey our rules. You want us to accept a person surrounded by host of ghosts, reeking of evil? Why should we? We have endured in the dark beneath the mountains for thousands of years and visitors from above brought us only grief. But, I will swear if you wish - I will swear by the Sun and the Moon that the only harm you will come to in the Last City will be the harm that you bring on yourself. I will swear that the Collars will be removed from your necks the moment you leave our city's borders. Now, I am old and I don't have the time to bandy words in the Outer Halls. Make your decision - now."
Solvistania inwardly seethes with anger, barely concealed but the look in her eyes would flash fry a bunny in about two seconds. To be rebuked by this....this...person was a personal affront to her ego.
She bites her tongue, knowing she still needed access to reach the Nexus, now so close she could taste the power emananting from it like the Wellspring of Life itself!
Durathoin's words uttered in the harsh Orcish tongue brings her back to the present, and she lays a slender, delicate hand on his arm, silently urging him to silence.
We will escape these creatures, uncollared, if I have to blast this Last City to ash!
Ragnar takes on a solemn tone, obviously reaching some decision. He was meant to be a speaker for his people. One who sees to the heart of things and shows people the reflections of themselves that they would rather not see. A speaker for those who have no words. So he speaks.
"You blame the victims and fear that the enemy sends us to weaken you. I lived in such a city once. The spirits that follow me and the evil I carry are the products of the pride and faith that the outside held nothing for my people. We were warned. We turned away those that wished us no ill. Now I am all that is left. You claim you do not need us, but that is not true. You need what we represent. Either you are willing to help those in need, without dressings of bondage, or you are simply waiting behind your walls and hoping they do not fall before you rot from within."
He speaks sadly, with great loss in his voice and nothing but pity for the Last City.
"I hope you do not choose as we did. Or as Cale or Highwall did. Your fear and pride are the tools of the Namestealer, and they will be the doors through which he enters. No one with a prayer of standing against Him would ask people at their gates to collar themselves before being given shelter. The Skeleton King asked for the bondage of Solvistania and myself. Our resistance brought us here where you do the same. The only difference is that when we refused him he sought to kill us. You will merely leave us to die. What would you do? What would you think of such a choice, or the people who offered it?"
As Ragnar finishes, Sorok steps forward to the speaker a with a sigh. A distant and somewhat sad expression clouds his face.
"We Dwarves are a proud race, war is our craft and it makes us strong. We face our problems stoically, capably, but alone. I've seen many who'd rather die, than call fer aid. More so from outsiders. It is through this that the Shadow's armies have destroyed so much. We offer yer city what aid we can."
Sorok turns to Ragnar
"Lad, I know yer no' likin it. Me neither. But ye've got t' understand, few could get near ye and no' run. It's easy t' forget with all o' them around ye. Still no' sure how they do it. I keep me distance now." He gestures to the rest of the group. He sets down Umbra and his shield. And walks over to Ragnar.
The familiar chill of the specters come and his hairs stand up on end. But he set his will and resisted the temptation to break and run, and instead places a hand on the huge Dorn's shoulder.
"Ye say yer pride an' fear were yer people's faults, take yer first step an' show em yer better."
Ragnar shakes his head in somber disagreement. "By putting on a collar? How would that make me better than those who died? There were dwarves who lived in Nalford. Every one of them would have rather have died than wear a collar."
"They did die before being collared. Proudly. They still do. It is the full moon, it is likely they are once again dying in the name of freedom as we speak. We watched it five thousand and eight hundred and twenty five times, every thirty days, before Ragnar finally found the way out of the city."
"Oh, yeah, that'll help. 'How about you hurry up with your decision whether or not to put yourself at the mercy of those who distrust and fear you.' For f+~! sake lady, I thought dwarves were supposed to be patient? You haven't exactly been reasonable or understanding while asking them to cripple themselves and hope you're honest."
"For f+*# sake, indeed." The spirit of the surly looking old Dorn said, speaking to the group for the first time. "Get over yourselves, all of you. Yeah, I'm talking to you too, lady. Don't look so self important. They're going to do it. All their other choices are worse than this one. Go back? No. Stay here? What are they going to eat, Ragnar? Going to conjure some spirit-meat for them? Even if you and your lady friend get locked up by these idiots for a century, the rest of them get to live, and you've got all the time in the world. Your brother and the rest of us will be fine. We're not going anywhere. When you get that collar off, you can go back to talking to empty air and making people wonder if you're crazy."
"Damn. Sounds like we got back just in time. What's goin' on?"