Tybain goggles at the exchange between the elven wizard, the actress and the Shade. Gradually Asmodia's eyes come to rest on Thesing, the personification of her self-loathing, and his bowl full of monsters. She watches his eyes as she reaches for the grub.
"My turn, I suppose," Tybain says with a certain air of expectation, hitting a note she had reached for in error with the sadistic thesbian. A healer, she applies the fluke to her shield bearing arm, a few inches beneath the joint, where veins are scarce.
Tybain begins giggling uncontrollably, and his hips thrust forward against nothing.
"Ooh, aaah! I know not this feeling!" he cries in ecstasy.
Fort Save:
HP: 17/18 (norm 20/21 -- down 3 HP from -2 Con) - Con at 8/10
Dentris steps back and watches Tybain with an almost lecherous grin:
Ha! Watch the virginal knight squirm!
As Tybain squirms, you can see the old Dentris lick his lips and can see him imagining the joys of youth and the pleasures that one can experience.
Tybain appears to be lost in his own demi plane of pleasure, his voice takes on the veil of an outsider attempting to explain the mysteries of the Heavens to a toddler.
"It is as if a thousand feathers assault my flesh—" he sings, "especially my most… tender… parts. What strange pleasure is this!"
Lazarod is next.
Lazarod shakes his head, "Ah, Aroden’s servants, so like sweet children they be."
He addresses at Tybain with a fond, and somewhat condescending, tone, "Hold true, my dear friend!"
Tybain snatches the knife from Haanderthan perhaps a bit desperately, with an exaggerated movement that rocks his body back when it easily comes into his hands, then presses it to his arm and digs the mouth of the fluke from his arm, drops the knife and then throws the horrid creature away.
"I am well," he says after a moment, "though I may never be the same."
Asmodia Con 12/14
HP - 3 ...
Glowering down on all of you Haanderthan waves his arms in frustration. "Curse your persistence. All lies eventually reveal their ugly fangs. I shall draw them as venom from a wound."
As the curtain falls the bearded bailiff picks up the rot grub remains from the stage floor and leaves it promptly. Calseinica leaves her spot and fusses over you all "Oh, Prince of Darkness are you alright! That looked absolutely horrible!"
Millech looks worried from his perch above the stage and Robahl as well looks absolutely helpless as he watches from just off stage.
Thesing only smiles contentedly.
Asmodia shrugs out from under Calseinica's hen pecking, and smirks at Thesing.
"Would that the interlude were not quite so brief, hmm?" she hums. "One wonders a base creature such as yourself manages to maintain the appearance of civility given such stimulus."
Talking to the rest of the party while looking sourly at Thesing: He is probably wondering where he will next be putting his rot grub.
Bloodless remains silent and brooding.
Bejis continues to ignore Thesing, and assures Calseinica that "it wasn't that bad. See? Barely a scratch."
Bejis continues to try to maintain situation awareness.
Using whisper to Asmodia - Any chance you could channel energy to heal us all without the priest of darkness and his infernal helper knowing? None of us are that injured, but who know what horrific perversion of this play will be brought forth in the next scene.
"You might be completely bereft of common sense, but at least get some attention to those wounds in the short term to avoid bleeding out on the floor - you are of no use to me dead. Yet"
Heal
The devil is currently not on stage, just Calseinica and Thesing with Millech and Robahl watching from off stage.
Whisper - LaVash and Bloodless, you guys want to create a scene of some sort to distract attention from the good cleric of brew? I can help, but as you have discovered, I am about as believable as Orcus playing a paladin.
"Be still my heart! Soft, what sweet words of love flow from thine angelic lips!" Asmodia fairly snarls at Bloodless. "This can be none but Shelyn's grace swelling in my breast!" she continues, breathing shallowly as though climbing towards release and gripping her chest, where she has hidden her holy symbol.
"I like you little enough as is at the moment, I have not forgotten your horrid words suggesting I derived any satisfaction at beating on my colleagues and friends like some kind of torturous monster."
"And if I were Tybain, I would be licking the Shade's assh*le in private as well as on stage," Asmodia sighs, resigned.
"Lick what you like, but I'd suggest your tongue has got you in enough trouble this day, and that it failed to weigh itself with so much as an apology once offence was taken and conveyed to you I can only conclude you meant every word. So let it be still and cease its mocking wag before I take further offence and demand my satisfaction here and now for your slights"
With that Bloodless dismisses his cast-mate.
LeVash has been slowly moving away from the entire ridiculous scene, to someplace further from the stage. When he is a fair distance from the rest, he stumbles, going to one knee, "rrrgh. Worse than I thought...gods, I need a drink"
Bluff/Aid another
Bloodless adds to the charade, complaining noisily about needing to bandage so many wounds as he tends to LeVash
Oh, great, what misfortune has befallen the great actor now. We have to be in positions in but a few moments.
I go over to see what is wrong with LeVash.
Bluff(aid another):
Thesing turns from the group as a whole as LeVash doubles over on some corner of the stage. Robahl continues looking helpless as he watches all of you. Calseinica in particular starts to fuss and care for levash even trying to offer up the goodberry she gave him.
.
Asmodia fixes her eyes on Robahl as she lifts her tankard aloft and the group is suddenly washed in the heady scent of good stout, filling their nostrils and their stomachs in a flash of brilliant light that binds their wounds. She carefully tucks the symbol back into her armor, fully aware that the effort may be moot, as most aspirants to the Prince of Hell's unholy army learned how to hide themselves from plain sight.
And here have I only the power to run...
Asmodia sways as if drunk for a moment, her eyes fixed on a point passed Robahl, then shakes her head and begins stealing herself for the next act. The script mercifully has allowed her a command word to complete a spell to assist them with whatever terror lies in store.
LeVash refuses the goodberry, "I'm...okay. Keep that for yourself, just in case.
He straightens up, cracking his neck..."Alright..let's make theatre"
Yup, time to provide this demented audience with some more sick and twisted entertainment.
As all of you breathe a sigh of relief the bearded devil enters the stage again trailed by a bunch of stage workers who make short work of the tribunal background and transform it into a flat and superficial underground cavern. The effect is gaudy but effective as the back curtain is dropped to cover the best. Behind it you hear the acolytes adn priest working quickly. They sound as if they're wheeling another device onto the stage.
Calseinica backs away from LeVash a worried look in her eyes...and perhaps something else.
If Robahl notices Calseinica's blatant blasphemy against Asmodeus he does not appear to see nor care. Perhaps its the stress of the production. Millech above takes out a wand from his belt and prepares to make use of it on the stage below.
Seeing the wand in Robahl's hand, I attempt to see what it is.
Spellcraft:
Bejis quietly says to Aerieth: "It might get dark and cramped in the 'belly of the beast'. Can you start a light spell on a copper coin and keep it hidden?"
Whisper: I do not have a light spell memorized. I am sorry, as an elf I rarely need such a spell. I can cast it, but only once. Once I cast it, it should last about 30 minutes. We should see whether Asmodia can cast light before I use my one free spell of the day.
Everyone returns to their positions as Delour's song ends as she retreats from the stage. The curtain rises once more and the group once more stands before a group of bemused nobles. Behind the second curtain a pair of acolytes whisper quietly to themselves as they await for the beast to be revealed.
Whisper: "Nay, though a wiser woman might. I prepared a spells to enhance attacks, stabilize the fallen and wash corruption from wounds."
Asmodia's eyes narrow as the acolytes whisper among themselves. She whispers to Bejis and and Aerieth. "Do not stray far. If we find ourselves matched against a summons, I can provide only minute aide."
As the curtains open, Dentris looks at the assembled nobles. With a bemused, yet criticizing, look, he stares from noble to noble. Then he addresses the assemblage:
Such horrors. What next?
Perform:
With this, Dentris turns and looks at his charge.
Lazarod seems tired, perhaps a bit distracted, his tone perfunctory rather than resolute, "Hold true, old man."
Turning to his charge and looking up and down the young man:
Easy for you to say! Youth laughs at death as a stranger.
With that, Dentris walks over and lifts Lazarod's chin as though examining a calf at auction. He then lifts his hand and looks at the crinkled skin (created by the fine makeup artists):
Dentris then lets out a wheezing hiss of a laugh:
As you grow older you come to know it well—and fear it.
Bloodless returns to character...
"I have seen young and old break before this court. They all share one thing: a weak and watery eye speaking to a frailty of spirit. Your eyes are like grit and sand, obstinate even in the face of the storm-fraught sea. You cannot break, old wizard."
Perform
Dentris stares at Drovalid for a minute, thinking:
Perhaps not. Then pauses and looks around the room as though contemplating what may await them.
Finally, he turns back to the torturer standing tall in the face of expected pain:
But tell me, Tormentor He say this last word with an emphasis practically spitting out the words. —what fresh horrors await?
"Here follows the Trial in the Belly of the Beast. A great terror, gifted to this court by a Duke of Hell, the Beast is a hideous thing, whose stomach is a nest of acid-spewing serpents. It shall swallow us whole, and wash us clean in its acid well." he bellows, hamming it up for its full scary undertone.
As if on cue the second curtain raises and with a flick of the wand Millech's illusion takes hold and a great roar emanates from behind the curtain as it rises. With hisses and pops it reveals a large serpentine creature reminiscent of an imperial dragon but clearly more fiendish and ugly in origin. An illusory gout of acid shoots from the mouth of the beast to the awe of the watching crowd. Closer inspection reveals it to be a simple device shaped like a demon with a green glass belly for the viewing public. As the curtains lower the pair of acolytes madly spin a wheel that angles the creature so that its maw faces towards you. the smell of acid is a strong indicator of what fluid is awaiting you inside. Calseinica starts to shake though it might have been mistaken with ecstacy for her character if one were nto close enough to see the terror in her eyes. Thesing is on the verge of laughter.
Hearing the pronouncement from the torturer, Dentris mockingly responds:
Where is the “trial” in this!? Lending great emphasis and air quoting the "trial" to show that he found the last trial to be a mockery of justice and he expects this one to be no different.
"If we are innocent, and speak no lies, then the Beast’s Belly will leave us unscathed." Bloodless replies, half to Aerith, half to the audience.
Asmodia's eyes widen as she regards the acid filled monstrosity. A Resist Energy spell would not have been enough. Given weeks to plan, or... having robbed Thesing of more than his dignity...
In true slapstick fashion, Tybain backs away from the monster, tripping over his cape. "Madness!" he hisses.
The audience laughs at the bumbling paladin.
Lazarod helps his friend up, clapping him on the shoulder, "Hold fast, my dear friend. Have faith in Asmodeus."