|DM - ARC|
You each wake from that terrifying Hellscape just moments after you, by your own volition, picked up one of the burning brands and pressed it into your own flesh somewhere upon your upper torso or head. You can still feel the heat and the pain radiating from the spot and as your gaze drifts down to where you placed your brand you can see a glowing, flaming brand still attached to your flesh although the tool appears indistinct the mark shows brightly and the edges seem to twist and move as if it was slowly burrowing itself into you and as it does the pain recedes and after a few moments all that is left is a fading symbol still glowing.
With your attention no longer on the brand you can see yourself lying upon a large and luxurious bed still partially covered by vibrant red satin sheets the colour of fresh blood covered only in silken nightwear. The room you are in is decorated with marble statuettes and fine stained wood covers the walls. You appear to be in a lavishly decorated guest room that belongs in a great mansion or even a palace. Across from you is a panoramic window overlooking a lush manicured estate in a temperate region.
When you get out of bed there is any number of creature comforts available for you a noble to prepare for the day including and already drawn steaming bath and a set of noble clothes cut in your size waiting.
If you didn't know better you'd swear this was some sort of dream.
Krovax looks about the room, taking in the scene before him. He then quickly looks about for a mirror, and moves for it at a rapid pace. He pulls open the silk shirt at his chest to see if indeed there was a brand evident. To his mild dismay, the jagged rune still had a faint glow directly over his heart. He then reaches up and parts the bangs of his black hair, looking for the rune binding Dreadmaul to his will. It too, was present, but now glows with a faint green energy.
So it was more than a dream. Well, if that is the case, then what the being said was truth. I was slain. And if I was slain, so too was Dreadmaul. Then...what has happened to his Binding?
Krovax turns slightly, looking towards the window. He peers out, examining the grounds before him, but his gaze is drawn to the horizon. Yet I can still feel the power of his blood, but something is different about it. I will have to look into that.
Krovax returns his calculating gaze to his immediate surroundings. Eventually, his eyes settle on the steaming bath prepared for him. Well, I may as well take a moment to get my bearings before I depart the apparent safety of these bed chambers.
After allowing himself to fully relax in the calming waters of the bath, Krovax rises, dresses in the outfit prepared for him, one that, in his mind, was befitting his stature. It was a comfortable black tunic with red and gold adornments that would fit well beneath his armor, and matching legwear.
Still, even during all this, Draverian's mind could not stop thinking about his deal with this being, and what it meant for his plans. Also, the curious changes to the shackles of Dreadmaul gnawed at his soul. Krovax eventually relents to the itch that he just cannot help but scratch. He sits cross legged at the foot of his bed, and begins murmuring the ritual he once used to call Dreadmaul to his side.
|Sir Leon Blackmane|
A body? Strange.
Placing his feet on the ground and standing, the powerfully built man chuckled at the novelty of feeling his own weight. He remembered life. He also remembered death. And undeath. And oblivion. And then... Hell? That part was somewhat fuzzy. It seemed to him a very long time since he remembered feeling the play if his muscles and the shifting of his balance. Such simple things to be so amused by, it seemed a long time since he has felt...
Anything. Such odd things to have missed.
Looking down at the charred skin in the center of his chest his brows furrowed. He touched it gingerly and frowned.
That I did not miss.
Looking at himself in the mirror he was further amused. His skin was fresh. Not a mark anywhere. There was no ache in his bones from old injuries and no scars from old battles. Even his nose, crooked for most of his life from a youthful brawl, was straight.
Walking around the room out of curiosity, and out of simple desire to reacquaint himself with the mechanics of walking, the big man opened the drawers and wardrobes. Their contents pleased him.
My host is most gracious.
A golden lion-head signet ring, the mark of his lineage, was slipped on first. Then silks and leathers of black, trimmed in gold. Finally an iron amulet joined the ensemble.
The master must have been successful. I believe I will enjoy a meal and a woman before becoming undying again. Perhaps this time I will maintain a wholly physical form. I do rather enjoy it.
Opal wakes with a start, raising her head just enough to look down at the center of her chest, watching as the indistinct flaming brand leaves a glowing symbol in the very center of her chest.
She briefly enjoys the pain that it causes. When both the pain and the symbol fade, Opal turns her attention to the room she is in. Taking a moment to enjoy the feel of the silken and nightwear upon her skin, she them rises from the bed and wanders about the room inspecting it.
This can't be just a dream, otherwise Toral would be here with me. Is he somewhere in a similar room? I suppose I may as well bathe and dress for the day and see who, or what, sends for me.
Opal decides to take a long relaxing bath, making extensive use of the scented soaps and bath oils left for her. When the water finally becomes to cold to stand, she'll get out and dry herself off and then dress in the clothes left for her.
HellflamefiretwistingwrithingburningBURNINGeatingmeeatingmeconsuminghungeri ngdestroyingdevouringtheFIRETHEFIRETHEFIREITBURNSLIKETHEROPEtheropearoundmy neckliftingmeupandupasistruggleandairtriestogettothemobcallinglaughingpoint ingjeeringbastardskillthemallkillthemallraisetheircorpsesraisetheirfleshSER VEME.....
Mordecai instinctively snaps awake, body flipping upright amid the silken sheets as he claps his hands to his face trying to claw out the fire that burns that... is gone.
Slowly, Mordecai lowers his hands, still marvelling at the novelty of having them as stimuli starts to coarse through his senses. Sheets, marble, silks, fire, wood... what is this? Slowly, his hand rises unbidden and passes before his face in one swift movement as Mordecai casts a simple spell, searching for magic. Looking in his hand in surprise as it passes, Mordecai slowly arises out of bad and stands straight, examining himself.
Skin, blood, bone... warmth. Alive. A memory flicking through him, he gently strokes his hand across his neck, guided by the memory of the brand burrowing into his skin, choking him like the noose... the noose!
Fist clenching, knuckles cracking as his skin grows white Mordecai snarls at the memory. Ungrateful, worthless, unthinking mobs... chaos personified, no individual just that terrible group hate... revenge destroyburnfirePURGE...
Snapping himself away from his pleasant thoughts, Mordecai reasserts himself and calmly inspects the room, examining closely the edges, the curves and shapes and textures of every little detail, seeking some weakness, some oddity some flaw...
Donning the clothes laid out for him, Mordecai sits cross-legged upon the floor and meditates, allowing the steam from the bath to draw a curtain across his mind, re immersing himself in himself, stepping into his psyche as easy as t'would be to step into the bath, the waters of his identity his memories rising to cover his head as he thinks and ponders and awaits for whoever twas that called him here.
There is no such thing as sadness if you've never known joy. Let the suffering of my foes bring me power, for I revel in their cries, their screams. Death is too good for me, so it may seem - that is why they burned me. Burned me alive, so I could feel the torture I gave unto others. Little do they know, that -
He woke up. His memories flooded into his head, his mind spinning as everything came to fruition. He sat up in luxurious sheets, now that he was of the right mind and mentality to accept it. There was something odd, indeed. He was alive. Alive, when he was surely dead.
He checked his body - over his heart, where they'd carved a symbol of their god, he now had a brand instead - one that had left its mark apparent on his sculpted chest, something that he recalled someone enjoyed, someone who-
Opal. If she's dead, and not returned, then I have to start over. Start from scratch. So much work into a single entity, and all tossed aside.
He noted his change in clothing. It disturbed him - too many sensations that left guilty pleasures, one might say, and he immediately leapt to his things, to check everything - his body, now that he tested it the hard way, seemed to be more fit than he had departed, and he flexed his muscles, stretching. This led to exercises that lasted a good hour of his morning before he went back to the issues at hand.
He had to find out where he was. With that on his mind, he'd begin to re-equip everything he owned, set it aside, and piled all the gear he needed. The blade sat on his back, and he just... grinned. Grinned wide. It felt good, to have the presence returned, and the armor fitted, and the plates clinking in anticipation. Much as he wanted to stay and be comfortable, there was work to be done - and a celestial to slay.
He began composing weapon drills in his meantime, and at one point he became far too intense, and jabbed the blade into the floor, kneeling to rest upon it. Too much time spent apart made him rusty, made him weak. But he was alive, and that was all that mattered.
Well, if this is hell, I am pleasantly surprised!
"I see you have left me almost everything I need, a slave to help wash my back would be appreciated though."
With that, Ezra disrobes and slips into her hot tub.
There is always a price, but I may as well enjoy it while it lasts.
"On second thought, just let me relax a while, being killed is not near so enjoyable as this bath."
Ezra closes her eyes, and sinks into the warmth, adding some scented bath salts to the water before she drifts off.
The cramps forming in her back from the now cold water waken Ezra with a start. She eases out of the cold water, enjoying the sensation of the cold water running down her form.
Well, lets see what we have here.. Perfume, lovely. She opens a small vial and inhales the floral scent. Ezra dumps the contents into the tub, then repeats the process several times over, dumping vials of oils and salts into the tub, placing a vials in row along the window sill together with a wash basin. There, that should hold it all. Now all I need is some amber. Let see, jewelry... Realizing at last that she is undressed, Ezra quickly slips into the clothes laid out for her. For the love of... There has to be something amber here somewhere... They know me, they know what I like. It must be here somewhere.
Ezra begins inspecting the items in her room, the clothes, the jewelry, candle sticks, anything at all.... throwing the rejected items into the tub of cold water.
"Sorry about the mess, but I need to find it. You know me, so it has to be here somewhere. . ."
Damn it Khizan, you are my familiar. Answer me.
As the ritual completes itself, Krovax opens his eyes to go to the window to observe Dreadmaul's massive form in the yard. However, he is shocked to see the creature that has appeared before him. A miniature, skeletal version of the great Wyrm say across from him, red flame in place of eyes. His body devoid of flesh and muscle, now wreathed in a green energy matching the rune on Krovax's forehead, a rune similarly etched into the skull of the dragon before him. Surrounding this rune of binding is an exact match to the brand now on Draverian's breast.
Krovax rises slowly, looking at the monstrosity before him. "What has happened to you, or is that even you, Dreadmaul?"
The dragon hisses his reply, "As always, human," the word dripping with loathing, "YOU happened. You let yourself be slain, and in so doing, the cursed spell binding our souls bestowed your fate to me as well. Even in death your curse follows me. And now I am bound to this meager form until I can gather my former strength."
Krovax takes some time to absorb this information. This is not good. Without the full might of the dragon behind me, my bargaining power will be hindered greatly. Still, a creature such as this still can strike fear in a man's heart, even if it is only the size of a large dog...
Krovax then turns and finishes donning his gear. As he does so, Dreadmaul continues speaking, "So what will you do now, Oh Mighty General?" lacing the last bit with sarcasm. Krovax pays it no mind, as he was used to the dragons attitude in his first life.
As he finishes pulling up his last boot, he replies, "Well, I get my bearings as to where...and when...we are. Next, I learn what it is this entity expects of me. Then, I take my revenge on the fools who dared attack me so cowardly. Finally, I will finish what I started. But first," he pauses as he attaches the brooch of his blood red cape, "I go to greet my host."
Krovax picks up his horned helm, and carries it under his arm. Making sure he can get to his wepon quickly if necessary, he then motions for Dreadmaul to follow, then opens the door and steps back out into the world.
|DM - ARC|
After roughly an hours time you each hear the faint sound of knocking at you door Mere moments before you come into reach of the door for those who wanted to leave and explore and a slight and unremarkable female servant steps in and bows deeply making sure to never look at you let alone in your direction. "I am sorry to disturb you my Lord/Lady, the Baroness wishes your presence at dinner. If you will follow me please." With that the woman steps outside and waits at your door until you are ready. If you require assistance in dressing or cleaning up she re-enters and does whatever you ask of her. When you are ready she leads you down a long corridor with several similar doors all closed tightly and down a grand staircase then out into a room large enough to host a ball.
The ballroom tiles are silver gilded and the walls as decorative mirrors. In the centre of the room stands a long and unquestionably expensive table with eight settings in front of a eight throne-like chairs. At the head of the table already sits a rather obese middle-aged man in richly adorned clothes and a plethora of gold and jewelry who appears already quite deep in his cup. He simply nods as you are each led to a seat and you can see each other being led by other serving girls.
Once you are each seated the large double doors are opened and a young and dangerously beautiful woman comes striding in dressed in an elaborate gown flowing. She glides smoothly to the table and seats herself beside the the other man and reaches for her goblet of wine. "A toast to your saviour and new master The Lord of Mirrors" With that both of your hosts take a sip of their wine and then the lady continues. "I am the Baroness Alora Vinters and you are currently guest's in my estate while you adapt to your new situation. Your souls have been saved from an eternity of torment and horror to serve OUR lord and at the same time given a second chance to take what you want from this world. But before you can start enjoying your new existence, you must first give your marks time to settle. Please enjoy your stay here and if there is anything you require we'll see to it that you get it." turning to Ezra, "Ezra my dear, if you wanted bottles you could have just asked rather than wasting hundreds of crowns worth of imported oils" settling back into her chair she waves to her servants and dinner is brought out. "Please eat and afterwards we can get down to your business."
"Everything I wanted or needed seemed present, save for one item. I am certain that it exists somewhere here? And my familiar? I have tried to speak to him, but be does not answer me." With that, Ezra sits down to enjoy the meal. In the tub or on my skin, one way or another, the oils were going away. If they know me so well, they should have simply provided the bottles and amber.. Smiling politely, Ezra asks, "Please pass the bread and salt?"
Krovax pauses when the knock comes at the door as he reached for the handle. He then looks at Dreadmaul, and speaks to him through their link, "Perhaps your presence here is not the best idea at the moment. I will call you when needed again."
Dreadmaul casts Krovax a seething look, then vanishes in a cloud of green energy. Krovax then opens the door and follows the peasant girl to his seat at the table. He glances about the room at the others as they join, and listens to the Baroness carefully as she speaks. Once finished, he looks her in the eye and begins his inquiry.
"Baroness, thank you for the generosity that you have extended thus far. You are truly one of exquisite taste. However, given the circumstances, I feel there is a necessity for some questions to be asked. For starters, what year is this and where are we and who, or what, exactly is this Lord of Mirrors?"
Turning to the rest of the people assembled, he continues, "And I am fairly certain that one question is at least whispering in the back of everyone else'minds here, and that is 'Who are the rest of these people?' For my part, allow me to introduce myself. I am Krovax Draverian, former General of the Crimson Legion, and I have also been known as the Scourge of Lastwall. Given the nature of our assembly, I trust there is no need to be concerned with worrying about debates on ethics and have no need to expect to be judged by any assembled here, and I for one am not ashamed of my life choices."
Mordecai silently follows the serving wench into the sumptuous hall. As the Baronness speaks, Mordecai crosses his arms and speaks solemnly.
"I assume you speak and listen for our new lord, Baroness. I will address you as I would bid you address him. For saving me from being a pawn of hell, I will serve as his bondsman until my debt is repaid. But may he know that I will not be his slave, nor his sycophant or pet."
So saying, Mordecai retrieves a goblet of drink and holds it up to the baroness. "To the Lord of Mirrors" he speaks before swigging it in one smooth movement.
Mordecai turns to his new companions.
"Greetings, General Draverian, and my other as yet unnamed fellow bondsmen and women. I am Mordecai Shrykeson, Magistrate and Lord of Ravenmore until but recently. General, I know not of your fame- my studies have focused on the arcane and divine rather than the historical- but I shall not judge you for your deeds or misdeeds as I would expect not to be judged for mine. I am as well not ashamed of the directions I took in life."
Toral walks slowly, calmly, into the room as he's led by the worthless servant sent to fetch him. If they'd known anything about the man, they'd have kept Opal around to help him with whatever he'd tasked - not that she was a servant, per se, but surely her company was superior to anything given out by the likes of these people, demons, devils, or whatever they were.
The Baroness, eh? Let's see what she has to say. I wager she's worth about as much as her servants, since they're half incompetent and half appearances. Hope the food's decent, or I might have to go cook it myself.
With little else left, he noted the three already seated - a woman with heritage polarized to his own, which gave him a grin to think about; a man who had apparently made himself known as a general; and a man who had raised his glass and drank it swiftly. It was almost something out of a dream, that one might organize such people.
He overheard the drinking man address himself as a Lord and state his name, and it was here that Toral gave a light laugh, moving to seat himself at a seat with openings for others on either side of him, where he would sit in a manner most mocking of the ordeals around him - he'd never been one for exaggerated finery - and clasped the goblet in his hand.
"First things first, I suppose. Name's Toral of House Lyonset, also called the Corrupter of Janderhoff, and the Infector of Angels. Been a long time since I've been able to make that claim, though - nothing spectacular, I assure you, save a couple notables - and I do indeed who beseeches myself, as well as all of us, into their service? Because I do not serve lightly, though I will pay back my debt, and no further."
The aasimar brushes back his hair, and just relaxes in his armor, already prepared to go forth - as though he were anxious to undo the debt made without his permission. Nobody would ever hear that complaint, though.
|Sir Leon Blackmane|
Having taken up too much time making sure that her outfit, hair and make-up were all perfect, Opal found herself among the last to enter the room. Her face lights up at the sight of him and she heads for the chair directly next to him. Not wishing to embarrass him by giving in to her emotions and hugging him, she'll simply face him and drop into a deep curtsey before seating herself.
Being unaccustomed to speaking out for herself, she'll remain silent until she's given permission to speak.
On noticing Opal besides him, his face glows for a moment - at least something good had turned from all of this, and his work was not for naught.
The aasimar would clasp her jaw gently, almost delicately, and brought her to face him, eye to eye. He smiled brightly enough to take in the pleasures of her view, her attire, her radiance one might say. In fact, Toral just smiled simply after because of this. He leaned in to talk low, almost whispering.
"I see you are still here, my work of art. You may act appropriately, and do scoot closer - I want to commit so many more sins by simply sitting here, after all this time. It's boring. We're apparently 'the help.' Oh - and you may speak as normal."
Snickering after, he'd release her, and give himself a more relaxed pose, hand fiddling with a bit of fabric on the end of the table.
|DM - ARC|
"I think you are misunderstanding your place, the Master doesn't need servants or slaves. He has countless souls and demons for that. He acquired your souls," looking to Leon, "Some at great price, because he wanted talented agents on the material plane. Remember that he gave you all the choice of branding yourselves with his mark and since you're here you obviously accepted. As long as you do anything he asks of you not only do you get to continue to reside on this plane, he will also grant you more and more of his power to do with as you wish." stopping to continue her meal the man sitting at her side continues.
"Since my lovely wife has forgotten to introduce me, I am Oro Vinters. I am sure that you are wondering where everything you owned before you died has gone. Allow me to show you." He snaps his fingers and slaves bring out six large chests."We have managed to acquire most of your original belongings from before your untimely deaths and those we couldn't we have located replacements made as close to the original as possible. Everything is there and if it isn't I will ensure that you get it immediately. Afterall, you won't be able to serve our master otherwise. You currently are in my estate outside of Cassomir in Taldor. Have I missed any questions? Ah yes, the most important one. The Lord of Mirrors, is a powerful Shadowlord of the Abyss, one of the powers behind the Archdemons. An entity powerful enough that if he should ever directly interact with our world all of the goodly priests and champions of virtue for miles would be able to sense his presence, which makes subtlety a little hard. Because of this he needs people like you who have already proven capable of spreading your own unique form of chaos to serve his ends. In exchange he has offered to you the power to rival demigods, if you want it."
Krovax listens politely as the others introduce himself, particularly raising his goblet of wine to Mordecai once he finishes speaking. He raises an eyebrow at the two at the other end of the table. Hmmm...what have we here...
When Baron Vinters finishes speaking, Krovax briefly considers the possibilities of what this man claims. If this Shadowlord can honestly grant this sort of power to me, Lastwall would stand no chance against my might. If, in fact, it still exists...
As this thought dawns on him, he turns to speak to their hosts once again, "Yes, Sir Vinters, I did request an idea as to the date. It is difficult to be aware of the passing of time when you aren't aware of anything at all."
"Forgive my impertinence, but if I learned one thing in life it was that nothing is ever free. What is the price tag attached to this overwhelming showing of generosity?" Ezra continues sampling the delectable assortment of foods as she awaits an answer.
|Sir Leon Blackmane|
"It seems I do, sir." Leon said in a low rumble looking down at his chest where the brand lay beneath his clothes. "But I do not remember the specifics of the bargain, having been quite dead at the time. I suppose it matters not so long as I am afforded the opportunity to pursue my own agenda along side his."
Mordecai listens to the baroness' monologue silently, before nodding and walking over to his new companions. Quietly, he mutters "The lady's flattery, I believe not. Her description of our lord's identity and powers, I know not if it be true. Dead or not, we should trust no one."
Finished, Mordecai sits at the table and begins to eat, listening to the speaking voices as he does so.
|DM - ARC|
Mordecai walks over to his chest and nods in thanks to the baroness. Swiftly he dons a headband and ring and attaches a length of rope to his shoulders, followed by a suit of breastplate and a shield. He concludes by swinging a backpack out of the chest, followed by an immense glass jar filled with black dust which he inspects before stowing it away safely.
Ezra follows the lead of the others, slowly inspecting all of her long lost gear. casting detect magic cantrip. "Just making sure it is all here, and how I left it." Making sure it is not cursed, or worse..Spellcraft: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (10) + 15 = 25. Not that I don't trust you, well, why beat around the bush. I don't trust you. If it seems to good to be true and all that."
|DM - ARC|
The key necklace is magic with a conjuration aura and there are no cursed items or fakes unless you bought them yourself and anyone with knowledge (planes) can roll to see if they've heard of The Lord of Mirrors
Rumors in dark circles tell of a demon that resides on the other side of mirrors that punishes those who are too vain
Above plus. Rumored to be the patron of Incubi.
Above plus. A Demon-Lord referenced in dark books depicting the fall of Aroden but none know what part this being played.
Above plus. The Lord of Mirrors is one of many titles that the first Incubus is called by.
|Sir Leon Blackmane|
Untrained knowledge check results max out at DC 10. Leon's never heard of his new patron.
Leon glances at the chest bearing his sigil, but does not rise. A lifetime spent at court had ingrained in him a sense of politeness and dignity. One simply did not inspect gifts at the dinner table. He would go through the chest at his leisure once they had dispersed. For the moment he simply ignored the ruder guests and addressed his host.
"I for one appreciate the opportunity to walk the world again. Am I to understand that you, Baron, will be our liaison to the Lord of Mirrors? What task are we intended to perform?"
Krovax quirks an eyebrow at the others sifting through their chests and donning armor, but that is the only emotion he shows. Uncouth barbarians, including the so called Magistrate...
He eventually notes the other man at the table with a similar look of distaste in his eyes. after the man makes his inquiry, Krovax locks eyes with him briefly, raising his glass to him subtly before taking another sip of the wine. He then turns and awaits their "hosts" to provide the answer.
|DM - ARC|
Oro"Well it was expected that we prepare you for your new life, after all it was my wife's divine connection to The Lord of Mirrors that allowed you to return to life. May I present his High Priestess." he says while turning and flourishing a grand bow which she merely nods to. "As to the specifics of why you and your true mission I can't tell you. All I can tell you is what I've been told." he pauses to choose his words carefully. "One of our Lord's agents has failed and worse allowed himself to be captured. In his possession is a tool that our master wants back and that's where you come in. Your first task is to retrieve this item and deal with any loose ends."
Ezra changes out of her fine clothes, and into the generic explorer's outfit, dons her headband of intellect, and loads a wand into a spring-loaded wrist sheath, and a small rod into the sheath on her right wrist. She quickly tests the mechanisms, then rummages around in the chest, carefully stowing all her gear into the pack. Once her task is completed, she dons the pack, and throws her old grey cloak about herself, and draws the hood up. "Lovely as it is here, I am aching to see what has become of the world. One final question however; where can I find my horse and familiar?"
|Sir Leon Blackmane|
Sighing as the strange woman brazenly changed her clothes mid-meal, Leon lowered his eyes and ignored her.
"Is this dinner also to be a mission briefing?" Leon asked calmly. No matter the master, he was a soldier first. This was just another retrieval. Details were fairly irrelevant. All he really needed to know what what and where. The rest would sort itself out.
Krovax listens intentively as Oro speaks. When the stern gentleman inquires as to whether this is a mission briefing, Krovax stands and addresses those gathered once again, all the while attempting to not let his eyes linger on the woman changing clothes in front of them.
"If this is to be a mission briefing, so be it. I agreed to help this Lord of Mirrors and I will live up to my end of the bargain. But, I am not comfortable going into any battle unprepared. So far, only myself, Magistrate Shrykeson, and Sir Lyonset have introduced ourselves, and none have given others an idea as to what they are capable of. If we are to do this, and do this properly, I cannot stress how imperitive it is that we know what each other is capable of so we know what resources we have at our disposal."
Looking about the room, he continues, "Given the nature of the situation, I understand that revealing such information about yourselves can be...unsettling. However, trust has to begin somewhere, even if it is only a small measure of it. Therefore, let me begin. I am a capable combatant, and have some control over magic at my disposal." Letting this statement make his mark, he resumes speaking, "Also, I have the ability to call in...allies...to my side at will."
He then takes his seat once again, and takes a sip of his wine. And should any of you try to exploit this information, you'd best hope this Lord of Mirrors believes in third chances.
Mordecai hesitates a moment before nodding to Krovax. "Agreed, sir. If we have any chance of surviving we must know each other. As with yourself, I have some control over magic; however, mine comes from the dark gods rather than any human source. I am afraid that I am not as capable a combatant as doubtless many of you are. Nevertheless, I am capable of raising the corpses of our enemies to serve as tools for our bidding."
Mordecai calmly takes a sip of wine before continuing- "In short, I am what many call a Necromancer. One who studies the art of bringing life to the dead."
"Meh, I am just a witch. No more, no less. In general, I simply manipulate the forces of ill will and bad luck; though there are other small things I can do."
Ezra mutters something to herself. Hexing self, Flight Hex
|DM - ARC|
The Baroness, looking with obvious disdain at Ezra while she strips down in the middle of dinner, huffs and replies, "Your horse and that lizard of yours should be here by morning. It proved unwilling to come quietly but is unharmed. And since you all seem to want to discuss business I think I'll leave you in the care of my husband." with than she drops her napkin on her plate and walks out.
Oro"Pardon my wife, she isn't used to entertaining regular people. Please collect you things if you wish and we can retire to my office where I can better answer any other questions you have."
Feel free to continue your own discussions, Oro waits patiently for you to eat, collect your gear or even order seconds and thirds. He only gets up to lead to his office when everyone is ready. And characters are done
Sorry. I have always lived where I pleased, and did what I pleased. Never had much need of polite society. I think I offended her." Ezra explains as she follows Oro from the room.
|Sir Leon Blackmane|
"A simple lesson in ettiquite then: It is considered improper to undress at the dinner table. Such things are generally better done in private." the large man says with a flat expression.
Turning to Krovax, Leon takes a drink and introduces himself. "I am Leon, called the Black Lion. I am... I was a knight-commander in the armies of Tar-Baphon."
|DM - ARC|
"Again you will have to forgive my lack of understanding, but I thought we were here because we were to be tasked with of spreading our particular brand of destruction and mayhem across Golarion, not because we knew which spoon went with the soup."
Ezra returns her attention to Oro, "Shall we?". Noting that Oro seems content to wait on the rest of the group, Ezra hails a servant, "Please direct me to your master's study."
"My apologies to your lovely wife"
|Sir Leon Blackmane|
As the witch leaves, just before she is out of earshot, Sir Leon chuckles to himself and says "Apparently her particular brand of destruction and mayhem involves being amature Calistrian dinner theatre. Perhaps our mission calls for ruining our enemy's appetites."
Krovax makes no comment to Mordecai's remark, as he is currently deep in thought over the sudden revelation that the man's remark left him with.
The Black Lion, alive, in my time. So this Lord of Mirrors has marshalled forces from different periods of history, then. Whatever it is this thing wants, it must be quite important to have expended that level of resources...and given that this man is quite out of his time, he may be willing to align himself to my cause, if I play my cards right.
Trying to shake himself off the distracting line of thought, he returns his focus to the conversation at hand at the Black Lion's casual diresion of the witch. "As uncouth as her actions may be, Sir Blackmane, I'm certain this lifestyle is equally as strange to her. Suffice it to say, to each their own, so to speak. However, I would like to say that it is an honor to meet you in the flesh. I studied your battle tactics and strategies for my own conquest of Lastwall. Making some adjustments of my own, of course. Perhaps we could discuss them more in detail later?"
|Sir Leon Blackmane|
I did not give my surname, let alone the new one my Lord dubbed me with. This one does know me.
"I was unaware that I had become a subject of study. An interesting honor. I do not know of Lastwall, but if my tactics were used against them I trust they suffered a great deal when facing you."
Lastwall was founded after the Crusade, which Leon didn't survive to see the end of.
|DM - ARC|
You are all led into a quiet and orderly office dominated by a large stone desk and only one chair behind it that the baron occupies. Staring across the desk and his now steepled fingers any semblance of his pleasant demeanor have vanished and now a seemingly different person sits before you. "Alright, allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Baron Oro Vinters, Grand Executioner for our Lord of Mirrors. The reason you were revived here, rather than anywhere else, is because you are going to track down and ensure that one of our formerly trusted agents is silenced and two items in his possession are brought back to me. His name is Abe Dlevers but he may be using an alias." with a wave of his hand over what appears to be a mirror set into the top of his desk a shadowy reflection appears of a thin wispy man looking to be in his late thirties balding with long smokey hair and a crooked nose. "This is what he looks like and you must also recover these two items." he waves his hand again and a statue of Serenrae that appears to be made of solid ruby that glows as if there was a real fire inside. The image wavers again and a small coin appears with a hollow groove on one side and the six pointed, jagged star that makeshift your brands on the other. The coin appears to be made of brass. "Abe's last known whereabouts were here in Cassomir under the protection of the town guard and a small group of priests so time is of the essence."
Mordecai stares at the man intently, memorizing his face. "Treachery... nothing is more diabolical to the establishment of order."
Turning to face the Baron, he curtly asks "Firstly, is there anything about the properties of these items we should know? Anything that would identify them as genuine? Secondly, whom do the priests worship? Thirdly, are we permitted to let others know of our service for the Lord or should we undertake some deception? And, finally, I am a necromancer and thus to make use of my fullest powers I require flesh or bone." Mordecai tightens his belts and straps his shield onto his back before giving a blood-chilling smile. "Where might I find the city graveyard?"
"I think this particular request may require a bit more subtlety than a public execution. If we want to send a message on behalf of the Lord of Mirrors, there are plenty of ways to accomplish that task. As for recovering this traitor and the items, I think we need to first remove him of his current company before relieving him of the burden of life."
He then turns, walks to a window thinking briefly, and continues while looking out over the landscape. "What we need is more up to date information. Not trying to insult you, Baron, but if it were me and I truly believed this man, I would keep him on the move in secret so as to keep his whereabouts a mystery. Especially if I were aware of the apparent importance of those objects. Particularly the statue, as it has an obvious monetary value alone. We need to...collect...a member of the guard and find out what is being done with him. Then a more proper plan can be prepared."
He then turns back to those gathered, a smirk on his face, "Ezra, you think you could use those charms of yours, both feminine and magic, to convince someone to slip away with you for a private...chat?"