(1) Atalantia - Scourge of Magic

Game Master mdt

You and I both know that, but Telv doesn't.

As they flew back, Connor kept looking for other fliers in the sky, but was disappointed. The sun was hot, the thermals consistent, but the desert monotonous. Like birds of prey, the Atalantians and the astral construct flew lazily, wings outstretched.

As the high towers of the city came into view, Connor drawled "Masiaarin, city of mercenaries. I don't think we'll surprise them if we glide all the way to the gates."

Connor blinked as they flew closer, alternatively putting a hand up to his right eye and grumbling.

Flann notices Connor grumbling about his changes. "We can just tell them we had a few accidents in the Prison of Elements, Volita especially. The, uh, rocks will be tough to explain."

"Given the Regent's reputation and abilities, I think we're better off telling the truth." Connor stated, rubbing a temple that was throbbing. "But we don't have to offer more than he asks, given who and what we encountered." The gates were within view now, as well as several efficient-looking ballista on the upper walls.

With the gates in sight Adran lands signaling the others down.

"So boss do we have a plan yet? Probably should hash stuff out before we go see the regent guy."

"I think we're going to need the help of a," Connor choked out the forbidden word, "wizard or someone more familiar with how to trigger the Regent's request correctly. And keep your voice down. Here's the public." as he landed.

Folding his wings, Connor ignored the "common line", full of Wingless onlookers young and old, coming and going on foot or in wagons, gaping at the Atalantians, instead walking to the second set of guards at the dusty entrance. Getting the older, better armored guard's eye, Connor stated "Connor, Captain of the Wandering Elephant, with selected crewmembers. We need to see Proctor Riva Kilgore. Not at the end of your shift, not in the next hour, but now. She wanted to know immediately when we returned."

Connor had the astral construct carrying the girl Telv land as well, allowing her to disembark.

In his head, Connor added The best we can do is ask which stone fulfills the Regent's wish the best. I don't believe 'destruction' will be the one. over Flann's network. Connor felt the exhaustion of the last several hours, including the lack of sleep, catching up to him.

The guard gives Connor a mild glare. "Don't teach me to suck eggs, kid. The Proctor left instructions that if you survived whatever she sent you to do, you were to find her at her family's colleges, she's looking over graduates to pick some for the City Guard. You know which tower to head to right?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

Going to assume Connor remembers the tower that's her families.

Heading to the Kilgor Mercenary compound, the group is let in, apparently 'let the winged guys through' is good enough to identify Connor and his cohorts. They are escorted to the tower proper, and left in what looks like a small classroom. There are diagrams of various races on the wall, with point outs to vital organ locations of the races, human, orc, elven/drow, dwarven, halfling, gnome, goblin, lizardfolk. No doubt a room used to teach where to stab various races to hit hearts and kidneys and other vital organs.

After about 30 minutes, the door opens, and a familiar face greets them.

"Greetings, Connor of McIntyre of the Elephant. You seem to have survived, well, most of you. Seems your lady friend is not with you, hopefully she did not die and is merely busy with your ship." She eyes Telv, and frowns. "You are fortunate the guards are green, they let you bring an outsider in with you. I assume it is safe?"
She eyes Telv with a small amount of distaste on her face. Her Kn(Dugneoneering) is high enough to id Telv as an Oozemorph on a take 10

"The red one." Connor answered confidently. "We saw nothing on the desert this morning between the oasis and here, if you're interested. A quiet day." he added, motioning to the others. Connor released his mental hold on the construct, and the ectoplasm returned from whence it came.

-------------------

Connor studied the diagrams on the walls, but didn't memorize them. Did he need to? Shapers rarely went to such great lengths with their constructs to make them anatomically correct. "I suppose we should feel grateful that no one has done such an intensive study of Atalantian natives - where to rip our wings to prevent flight, for instance." he drawled to the others. Connor yawned for the fifth time in the room, stuffing a fist into his mouth.

(Insert all the telepathic OOC talking from the Discussion Thread here, if you need to.)

--------------------

"I regret that Volita Involo is no longer with our party, and I sincerely hope that she comes to her senses and returns in the near future." Connor smoothly replied, bowing. "As for my newest crewmember and companion," he introduced, straightening and extending an arm, "may I present 'Tel', an innocent to our outside world. She has proven very useful and complementary in our recent adventure. Much like a blank sheet of parchment, I urge you to not color her with any preconceived prejudices."

"As to the actual mission," Connor stated, pointing one finger to the floating red stone orbiting his now-white hair, "while we were able to arrive at the location the Regent specified, I apologize in that we have yet to finalize the Regent's goal. The last must be done in his presence, and might require, ahem, learned arcane assistance that we by definition lack."

"Is the Regent free at this hour?" Connor asked.

When Connor points up, she looks up toward the ceiling, then back to him, and then her eyes widen slightly. "Oh, right, you saw stuff that made your hair turn white, eh? I heard tales of that, gotta say, I've never seen it happen until now." She eyes the hair curiously. "Glad it wasn't me, I like my hair dark. Though I guess there's advantages to it, nobody can tell how old you are now. That's odd though, he seemed to feel you'd be able to do what he wanted on site. Not sure how happy he'll be that you didn't." She frowns, but then shrugs, obviously it won't be her head, seems to be the thought. "I doubt it, but I'll send him word. If you would like a place to wait that's more comfortable than our assassin's class room, I can show you to the Commissary." She pulls a small box out of her pocket, about the size of a snuff box, and opens it up. She gives a whistle, and a small form flies out of the box, turning into a full sized pigeon that lands on her wrist. She sets it on the desk, and then looks it in the eyes. "Regent, the winged merchants you sent have returned, more or less in one piece. There seems to have been some trouble completing your task. They wish to tell you the issue in person, as they feel it requires you to resolve it." She then whistles again, and points to the nearby window. The pigeon chirps and then takes off out the window.

"I'll get a message back soon if he's free, or his deputy will send back a meeting time, within a couple of hours. Follow me." She leads the group out of the classroom, and down several sets of stairs and through part of the tower to a large room that seems to take up about 2/3rds of two floor on the tower. A couple of hundred tables are set up with benches, and about half full of various people and races in and out of armor, all eating and chatting. The center of the room takes has stairs leading up to a second floor full of tables. She nods to the person watching the door. "Guests of Kilgore, let them eat what they want, and wait here as long as they want. Call me if they want to leave before 3 hours pass. After that, escort them out if they want to leave." She turns back to the group. "If you've not heard from me before 3 hours, return to your inn and I'll find you there when I've heard from the Regent."

Flann is so absorbed in the diagrams on the wall outside the Proctor's office, he barely notices her when she enters.
Autohypnosis(Memorize): 10 + 11 = 21

If no one stops to prod him into the room, he'll get left outside.

Flann (or Flann's player) apparently has smoked some good medical herbs, and is confused as to what happened and where they are. :)

I mean, biology, man~

Flann, go back and reread. You weren't outside her office, you were left in a classroom. In this case, an assassination classroom, thus the diagrams. You weren't ushered to her office, she talked in the classroom, and then led you to a commissary (a large food area). :P You really should read the post the poor GM works so hard on.

The ioun-wish stones are not visible to others. Connor realized. He sent as much through Flann's network. Well, we won't attract attention with them, then.

-------------------

Down at the Commissary, Connor said "Thank you for the hospitality. We'll wait." Privately, Connor knew if he had more than a biscuit he'd fall asleep with a belly full of food in an instant.

"Tel," he addressed the young elf-looking girl, "this place is too public to teach you how to eat without your, er, usual capabilities, so just copy a few people. We'll correct you if needed."

Looking around, Connor went to what he hoped was the local equivalent of a chai table, and poured himself a large cup before finding a seat with plenty of empty seats. He would have preferred some elevation, but Connor didn't think the locals would have winged people entering and leaving out of the windows, like back home.

Telv follows the group down into the commissary, where "she" sits without really engaging with anyone.

When Connor gives him instructions, Telv says "Okay." and then looks around and begins copying people's motions....even though he doesn't have a plate in front of him.

Adran frowns a bit at her words to the regent, but is soon happy when told there is food. He excepts the hospitality and eats and drinks to contentment with his usual vigor.

Connor watched Telv, then got up and got him/her a plate of simple foods - already peeled, or cut, like cheese. Sitting back down, he pushed the plate over to Telv. "Put small pieces inside your mouth first, then do...whatever your kind does. One at a time." Connor whispered under the noise of the room. He took a small piece of fruit and held it inside his own mouth, before swallowing.

About two hours later, Proctor Kilgore sends for the group, a mercenary captain leading the group back to the first floor of the tower, where they meat the Proctor. "The Regent has sent for us. We won't be able to walk. I hope you do not get motion sick in carriages." A large heavily armored carriage being pulled by 8 horses in full plate is waiting, the wheels are steel and heavy. It looks as if it could survive a full fight with a dragon, or even one of Atalantia's big cannon's. The inside is has enough room for 10 humans to sit comfortably, or 6 Atalantians. Once inside the carriage, the driver, sitting in an armored cupola, uses reins made of steel link chain to get the horses into motion. The carriage begins moving slowly, and a loud noise emits from it as it gets up to speed.

Unseen from the inside, the street ahead clears of pedestrians and other traffic, the strange warbling sound that emits from it warning of it's approach. The coach barely shudders as it rumbles down the street, the frame so heavy and the springs do thick under it, that small bumps in the road aren't even worth mentioning. "We use this carriage to haul important VIP's transported from one country to another. The horses are simulacra. The whole thing is layered steel, rubber, adamantine, with a mixture of mtihral and adamantine framework. It can travel 200 miles in 8 hours, at full speed. The horses can smash through solid stone. It'll crush a bulette under it's wheels, and tear a dragon's talons off before it gives." She nods toward a large red talon with a dried up stump that's set against the top of the rear wall. "Fifty foot sucker, took it's claw off and shattered it's left rear leg when we hit it." Looking out the narrow slits, the Atalantian's see the city wall flash past as they exit the city, having made it from the compound to the city wall in less than 10 minutes. Once outside the city, the strange beastly carriage picks up in speed, apparently not at all slowed down by the sand. The ride becomes rougher on the sand, and with the increased speed. The racket of wind against the carriage is near deafening. "We're at full speed right now, faster than anything mortal can go, and for a lot longer. Inside's spelled against heat and cold." Kilgor has to yell now to be heard over the wind. "The Regent is at the Temple of Millicivit. Not to pay for her priest or priestesses time, whichever way he leans on that, but because we might end up being attacked soon, and he wants to make sure they know so they can be ready to minister to wounded civilians and guard the orphans and homeless in the city." Note, the bigger tags don't seem to be working

Even as she's saying this, the massive carriage begins to slow, it slows faster than it speeds up, and stops in the desert outside a very large, and very ornate temple. As the group gets out, the priests and priestesses of Millicivit are easy to spot, they are all gorgeous, regardless of age, and all dressed in clothing designed to make you forget about everything except procreation, either recreational or holy worship, depending on your level of devoutness.

One, whose robes are less revealing than the rest, steps forward. "Proctor Kilgor, a pleasure to see you again. The Regent sent word for you and your..." She looks over the Atalantian's and Tel, and licks her lips with obvious interest. "...exotic companions to follow me."

Needless to say, the worshipping going on in public is.. ardent and prolific... within the temple. Pushing past the haze of pheremones and flesh, the group moves to an area of the temple that's more quiet (although that quiet is occasionally broken by very.. devout.. cries), and they find The Regent and half a dozen priests and priestess, in a room looking at a map of the area. As they enter, a stunning mature woman Sorry, no way I can link a picture of her in what she's barely wearing is talking as she points at a map of the city and local areas. "The orphanages all have storm shelters in the basements, those have been stocked with food and water for up to 3 months, preserved, and we have acolytes standing by to use preservation spells on fresh food. The brothels all have similar shelters, and we can ensure that the homeless, and any non-combatants who wish to shelter, can shelter there. Needless to say, the mercenary colleges have their own shelters." She nods at Proctor Kilgor, who nods a confirmation that Kilgore at least is ready. "Should this Dargasium's underlings run amok if it comes to foul, or if it should attack us in turn because it does not, then we will be ready." She gives a smile that is both heart stopping, and blood freezing. "Needless to say, those who would seek to harm families will find cold comfort and no pleasure from the followers of Millicivit." The priestly cohort in the room all gather similar very predatory smiles, and the rooms temperature drops a few dozen degrees. The followers of Millicivit seem to be as passionate about defending the young as they are of creating them in the first place.

Then the woman turns toward Connor first, and then Telv. "And now, Regent, you would I hope please explain why you bring in two creatures of another god, both thieves, into my temple?" Her eyes glow. "Tenfa, Telvan Sandora, do not think you can enter this house of pleasure without our knowledge."

Telv's mouth moves on it's own, the girilish voice of it's odd elven form light and airy. "Oh, not at all, High Priestess Marsina. This is just a former creation of mine, and I was curious when it escaped from prison. So I just hopped aboard out of idle curiosity. Imagine my surprise to find Tenfa and yourself in close proximity? Oh, Regent, I see you're well." The manner of speech is not Telv's, even if the new voice is.

Connor's own mouth moves without his volition. "Sorry Dear, I need to borrow your vocal chords, so we don't lose you. This is Connor, Milli. He's a good boy, you'd like him, he's deeply perverted deep down. Don't do anything to him, I've put a lot of work into him and I'd hate to have to start over with another. Hello again Regent."

The Regent grunts. "If you gods are done showing off and trying to prove who has the biggest egos." He says in a huff, turning to Connor. "Alright boy, talk. What did you do? Or not do? You're out of the prison, but that fool Dargasium hasn't been inconvenienced in the slightest."

"Finally a religion that makes sense. How, where do I sign up. I am a slow learner but willing to put in the hours it takes to you know worship."

Adran stares mouth open in aw at the high priestess. Failing to blink not really paying any attention to the godly displays nor caring.

"Interesting...clockwork and magic." Connor commented as their ride left the city. Fatigue seeped from his voice, and he almost took a nap in the contraption, the ride was that comfortable.

---------------

Connor was overwhelmed by the temple of Millicivit. Both by the worshipers and the shifting effects his new vision afforded him.

Before he could introduce himself and his companions, Connor found Tenfa talking for him.

--------------------------

After Adran's comment, Connor said "Summarizing for time, Regent, we did as you requested for that occupant, but rather than grant a single wish, she gave us each a specific kind of wish. One of the four elements to each of us. Her instructions were the height of brevity." Looking at the ioun stone floating around his head that he knew was invisible to the non-adventurers present, Connor stated "Any for destruction; one for healing, or to build; one for moving, or to change; one for sundering, to change, or to learn. It was indicated that moving a person to the aforementioned prison would require touching the person. But that was all. Since we" Connor indicated his three other companions, "have no experience with wishes, especially ones of this type and level, we are at a loss as to how to use them. Unless you instruct us."

The Regent looks surprised. "She gave you all a wish? That is.. odd.. why would she..." He rubs his beard thoughtfully, and then his eyes narrow. "What else did you do in the prison? Did you release anything else? A small girl maybe?"

As Connor starts to answer, his shirt begins to leap and pull away from his chest, as if some tiny figure were jumping up and down as hard as they can under his shirt.

"There was, ah, prior...sabotage to the entire prison. A prison break." Connor admitted. Looking at High Priestess Marsina, he said "The Regent was correct in needing more than one sharp-eyed thief, and a puzzle-master, and a sculptor, and more luck than most use in a lifetime. While we were able to bypass certain areas, the last level was caved in, literally, beyond what mere mortals could get through. Desperate times called for desperate actions. We are under...certain restrictions," and Connor felt those restrictions on his throat and mind as he turned back to the Regent, "but needless to say, the Prison of the Elements, or more correctly, the Warehouse of the Gods, is under new management, as you suspect. But the...entity you suspect is no longer inside, or in this local area, as far as I know."

Connor pressed a hand to his chest, trying to keep a small jewel with spiderlike legs from leaping underneath and onto the first female available. He also looked around to see if any cats had strayed into their meeting area.

For a moment, the Regent looks like he wants to get up and run Connor through with something dull and painful. Then he gets back under control. With very slow and obviously pained words, he speaks, biting each word off. "I. Told. You. Not. To. Release. Anything. Else." Proctor Kilgore takes a step back, either clearing the area so as not to get in his way, or in preparation for beating Connor's skull in from behind, or perhaps both, depending on how things go.

But then the Regent finally takes a deep breath, and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I'm getting too old for this dragon shyte. Well, since we're all apparently still alive, along with the rest of the world and the gods, it appears that we have been somewhat lucky, despite all attempts otherwise. But it does explain why she gave you four wishes. I rather suspect she'd have given you a dozen if you'd asked for them." He takes a deep breath, and then sighs again. "Well, perhaps it's for the best. At least the end of everything is gone and didn't actually happen. Next time, young man, when your elders tell you not to do something, don't bloody do it!" He roars the last few words. "As to the wishes, it's fairly obvious, use the one for moving to move Dargasium to us, and then very very quickly touch it and wish it into the prison with one of the other wishes. I don't think it's defenses will hold up to that, and it should keep it busy figuring out how to get out for a century or two at least."

"But not here!" The High Priestess says firmly. "Go summon it in Kalaban or Telvan's temple. Not mine."

The Regent shakes his head. "Desert, so if someone doesn't wish fast enough, the city doesn't get obliterated, just the idiot who didn't wish fast enough, and everyone with a mile of him."

Flann spends the time in the assassins classroom observing the diagrams and commenting on the more striking differences between the terrestrial races. This sort of xenobiology appeals to both his professional experience as a healer, and the hobbyist sniper learning--as the room was intended--the avenues of death.

Once he is herded away to the commissary, Flann continues to refuse to eat food he didn't previously prepare himself. He mumbles some lamentations over the loss of his canteen.

Once the magic-driven impenetrable composite tank gets rolling, Flann spends the ride pointing his finger out of the arrow slit and sighting targets. "Pew!" He keeps his voice low so as not to bother the others. He braces himself in his seat when they hit the sand.

Approaching the temple of Millicivit, Flann comments over the network: ~Oh, they are preparing for war, and quite conservatively... Do we have time to get the repairs done before the place locks down for siege? I was once ransomed back to a fortress under siege. It was not a good time. Is that what we're doing the wish thing for? So they can avoid a siege?~

The party is lead into the throngs of worshipers, and his attention is piqued, though perhaps not for the same reasons Adran's has. ~They probably shouldn't be copulating quite so aggressively if they're preparing for siege. Self-medicating with serotonin is one thing, but several of these couples don't seemed worried about morning sickness... Mother said I was never cut out for foreign relations.~ Other than his intense and contemplative observation, Flann doesn't seem to question the juxtaposition of services. If anything, he seems bored, even jaded... searching for outliers.

When the Gods start their puppet show, all Flann projects is ~Theif?~ There is a psionic pressure, however, seeming to indicate several attempts to comment on those persons left unnamed.

At the Reagent's suggested course, Flann shrugs. ~The original agreement was 50/50. Would have been nice to get away with an unexpected profit, but I think all things considered, that would be fair.~ There is a pause.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (10) + 11 = 21

Checking to make sure he hasn't been muted, Flann takes a more professional tone in his telepathic sendings. ~They didn't take the news well. Our news really has the Regent spooked. It may take some time for him to cope and reach a firm conclusion on how he wants to deal with the situation. I say we cash out quick while the offer on the table is amenable. BywhichImeanbeforeitgetsworse.~

Connor endured the Regent's wrath only because of his military training in his family. Excuses don't fly, boy! as spoken by an uncle or instructor or both kept repeating in his head from his childhood. Connor bit his tongue on the flippant "All's well that ends well"-type answer. You wanted to be a leader, and that means taking the blame as well as the praise. he thought inwardly.

Answering Flann, Connor sent It looks like we just became the main offense for some kind of invasion of the city. And what ruler would pass up the chance of making sure all the causalities are not of his own people?

My wish is fire-destruction, Connor added, which means I can't do this: Flann, you have the "move" wish, and Telv, you have the "change" wish. If the Regent is correct.

"We have just returned from the Warehouse of the Gods." Connor said to the occupants of the room. "It would help if we could sleep and recover our psionics, and also know who and what this 'Dargasium' is before we attempt two world-level wishes. Is it a warlord leading monsters? A major demon with a lesser-demon army? Or an" Connor stumbled on the word, "arch-wizard? We need to know how to protect ourselves before attempting any action."

Adran stops staring for a moment as the regent speaks up.

"So yeah that's not a horrible plan, but we did your task for one wish, and now you want two. I'm not saying no, but that certainly will need further compensation."

He smile, winks at the priestess and continues to stare.

The old man is silent for about 10 seconds, and then sighs. "Well now, that has gone and done it, hasn't it. Four of you lot, trying to extort me, after you fouled up your orders. I was going to leave you two wishes, since we contracted for you to get one. I'm not leaving you with three. That's too dangerous. And now that you've gone there, I can't trust you to not use your extra wishes to not screw me over. Now can I?" He eyes Adran. "You think I'd not have something prepared in case the freelancers I hired decided to reneg on the deal?" He stares Adran in the eye. "Proctor Kilgore? I assume that little job I gave you was completed correctly?"

The proctor nods. "Yes sir, I collected feathers from each of them during our tour the other day, and gave them to the person you directed me to."

The old man nods. "That's what I thought. Now then, if any of you say the words 'I wish' without me being damned sure what you're wishing for, I'm going to have to call for my insurance. I guarantee you that you won't live long enough to finish the wish." He looks to Telv. "Well, you might finish your wish, but your companions will be dead before you finish it. And that's assuming the Proctor doesn't kill you first."

Flann dissembles quite effectively, being used to coddling those drunk with power and short in patience. Whether he has the presence to sway hearts is another matter entirely... He raises his hands and shrugs, fluttering his black and red butterfly wings to release some tension and call attention to his diminutive self. "Adran, Regent, please. There's no need for any of this. We understand that you are under a lot of pressure, and we have a genuine interest in relieving you of a considerable amount of it. I don't think any of us intends on leaving a city of honorable men, women, and children to face whatever it is that's got you all up in arms... literally. The original deal, I think you would agree, is moot given present circumstances, but the spirit of it was an even split for these wishes, and I think we can all get more out of this arrangement if we work together rather than keeping each other at arm's length. I understand that control over information, especially around foreigners, is part and parcel to managing a domain of any size, so I would not ask you to provide any more information than you're comfortable with- only understand that while your trials lay ahead of you, we are yet in the midst of ours, and my companion here is a little sore over matters outside of anyone's control present deific entities excluded." Flann takes a deep breath. "We have our objectives and you have yours. Both parties have plenty of enemies besides. We want to keep loss of life at a minimum, sir, and we respectfully request your honest and thoughtful council in these strange lands."

~Out of curiosity, what are our chances of fighting our way out?~

Ill-advised Diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11
This is why I usually play Bards. At least he doesn't come off as intentionally insulting. I do have Escape Artist now...

Good enough for an Aid Other, if someone else can pull off a diplomacy check

"Your a mean old guy. Who said anything about not following through on the deal. Your the one that just changed it asking for another wish greedy. We did you one better and came to you allowing you a chance to shape and word the wish. You threats don't bother me done. We all die, only some of us truly live. I will let you and the boss sort this matter out. Hey lady how does one go about doing some "worshiping" here?" He ask the high priestess.

The high priestess shakes her head. "We don't do necrophillia here, that's a different temple, boy. None of my priests or priestesses are interested in dead men."

Flann's eyes go wide and he grits his teeth.

I think Flann is going to manifest Collapse on Adran. I don't know the table's feelings toward PvP, even for the sake of RP. The usual DC is 15, but since Adran's Fort is 11, I'd be willing to pump the max 8 PP to augment the DC to 19 if that sounds interesting and/or fun, and only if Adran is game.

I leave stuff like that up to the players, PvP is only allowed when the player allows it OOC

"Adran." Connor admonished, then with the second outburst, "Adran! You're a scout, not a merchant. I value your input most times but not in this case!"

"I truly apologize, Regent." Connor said earnestly, bowing, half-spreading his wings. Your assignment is not yet done; we came in good faith to finish it. Rest assured we will do all it takes," he stated, with a stare at the brown-winged Halvavian, "to finish your contract. I, for one, don't like magic clinging to us this way. It is only our own ignorance that is stalling us. We thought your contract could be finalized verbally. If it takes action on our part, we will do so. No threats are needed."

"I regret my companion setting a bad example for those from Atalantia. We have gone from merchants to adventurers to seeing things and beings mortals rarely see in their lifetimes. The shock must still be affecting my compatriot. The sooner we can finish your desire, the sooner we can be back onboard our ship and flying our way home."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20 (The best I can do, curse you, dicebot!)

That's a 20, right? I guess it's down to the Regent's charisma...

???: 1d20 ⇒ 20

The Regent stares at Adran, and finally nods. "I'll listen to your words, for now, outlander." Any previous warmth is gone from his voice however. "I do not trust your... companion... with a wish at my back however, he seems avaricious and lacking honor. If his wish is the one that moves things, then that will work. Otherwise, it is his wish that will be used to remove the danger to the prison." He gives a smile that shows a very predatory face. "I am fairly certain that when Dargasium arrives, the fool will be too busy trying to get it as far away from him as possible to try to do aught else. But I'll bring along a little insurance, just in case." He stands up. "High Priestess, my apologies for disrupting your temple like this. The one I must summon would befoul your temple. And Dargasium is too large to summ on here afterwards in any event." He bows, and then stalks past Adran without a second look. "Come."

Kilgor waits and motions everyone else out, her face hard.

Assuming nobody tries to attack anyone from behind

The Regent stalks out to the carriage, climbing in. "Get in."

Kilgore again waits for the others to go first, silently.

Once in the carriage, The Regent notices the claw on the wall, and huffs. "Oh, I almost forgot, as to your question... Dargasium is an immortal Prism Dragon, a cursed one with a foul temper who considers this continent his to do with as he pleases. He's recently awoken from his last enforced nap. Hopefully we can get the wishes off before he eats too many of us."

Connor let out a long sigh. After the Regent left, Connor addressed the High Priestess "Our kind do not trust magic, arcane or divine, High Priestess of Millicivit, and the storms around our floating islands explode such items randomly. Forgive my companion, and us. As you can see, I am having to personally reevaluate my own position, due to Tenfa's delightful influence. My education, I fear, has only started."

-------------------------

"A dragon." Connor repeated slowly.

Knowledge: The Planes? Since it's not a common dragon type: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22 (Shakes fist.)

"We have blue and other color dragon flights harassing our skyships regularly. They seem to take particular offense at those who can also fly in the skies like they do." Connor said. "My own personal experience was with a silver-colored dragon too old to comprehend on the Northern Continent. Her aura was...extreme, to say the least. Even if all we do is touch Dargasium, we may need to be bolstered against fear and the like." He looked at Adran in the carriage, as well as the watchful and glowering Proctor. "And rehearsals. Lots of rehearsals." Connor added. He stifled another yawn, with effort.

Telv watched the back and forth between Connor and the Regent with the same interest and energy that one might follow a good tennis match.

When the Regent wanted another wish, Telv's hand started to reach up to his, but a look from Connor Presumably stopped him cold.

Shrugging like his father would, he continued to observe.

It seemed, for his part, that Telv didn't even register he was talking, as he began looking around the room with great excitement when he heard the voice coming out of his own mouth, only to deflate a bit when he realized that his father wasn't here.

(Connor would have given a reassuring look at Telv. There's a deep issue about Telv's particular wish that Connor will roleplay out, given time.)

Flann follows the Regent out of the temple, and as long as he's not alone in doing so, will join him in the tank carriage. ~So, my wish to bring the dragon into range, and Adran's to imprison him? Is that our only choice here?~

I thought it would have to be you, then Telv, given the wording on the elemental wishes. Connor thought back. My own, fire, is quite worthless in this case. And if we do not rest, I don't even have enough mind-energy to make more than an astral falcon right now.

A scowl in Adran's direction. ~Happy to put the crew's needs before my own...~ Flann's very clearly ruffled over Adran getting out of this with his wish intact and without having to poke a dragon.

Not sure how Adran's getting out of this, as the Regent has demanded Adran use his wish to put the dragon in the prison. Ideally, you'd have used Connor's, so you get the destruction only wish used up, but Adran's provoking the NPC has resulted in that not being viable.

~I do think it's the Regent's wish that Adran face the dragon. If that means we have to modify the nature of the wish, and the dragon's fate to accommodate that, I think we should... in light of circumstances.~ It's not clear if Flann could avoid sounding smug if he wanted to.

Just to Clarify, Air = Flann's clear crystal, movement, to get the dragon there. And Earth = Adran's brown crystal, healing, construction, destruction, in this case, used to open the prison and imprison someone. That leaves Fire (Connor) and Water (Telv) for you to use for your own purposes.

Giving Adran a chance to post

Telv is back now, with a super-secret GM only message!

"If it helps, you guys can have my floaty rock thing."