Arianwyn prudently takes cover behind the desk but allows himself to become distracted by the interesting documents spread before his covetous gaze. As a result, his attack is ineffective.
Seraphiel backs away from his foe before commanding the sun to push the proto-tiefling into Whiteclaw's waiting arms.
Vel's flame and his own wounds inflict further damage on the demented being, heedless of the gnoll's presence, he hurls a ball of infernal flame at the invoker, the warlord and the wizard.
Whiteclaw tries and fails to take advantage of the opening the proto-tiefling offers.
Turning on Whiteclaw, he stabs her with an acid dagger but misses, showering himself, Weltmann and Gobi with acid as well as the gnoll herself.
Weltmann's face darkens. "What in the nine hells is that thing?" He glares at the proto-tiefling.
"You, my abomination, are not joining this party. Or entering this world."
Then he gestures and a faint glow envelops everyone except the proto-tiefling, ending the acidic damage and preventing all but the worst effects from having an impact on you.
The Gentleman concentrates on the portal, and Pirot, clearly more affected by his recent ordeal than you realised, sends a magic missile into a bookcase.
Reason moves behind the enemy, and tries to drive it before him.
Reason's attack is too much for the invader. Heedless of who is passes, it incurs the opportunistic wrath of Whiteclaw, Gobi and the Gentleman as it flees.
Looking around, Kia realises that there is precious little she can do on her own. So she barks out an order to Whiteclaw.
"Whiteclaw, can you get over there and do anything to it?"
Kia prepares to take out her crossbow: "This thing is next to useless, but it's better than throwing my sword, I suppose."
At Kia's command, Whiteclaw strides eagerly across the room, but her frost axe fails her and hits nothing but the floor.
Gobi moves after this proto-tiefling with a purpose.
Gobi's attacks bloody the proto-tiefling and Whiteclaw bares happy teeth as the paladin ranges alongside her. Shifting to flank with him, she raises the frost axe and sweeps downwards, pushing their mutual foe off his feet. He struggles unavailingly to rise as she marks him for herself.
Vel strides through the flames and pummels the prone figure with her force missiles.
Vel's attacks keep the creature at bay. There is now possible way it can survive much longer. She ranges confidently alongside Reason as the flames die away, leaving only minor scorch marks on the floor.
Arianwyn charges in, blade held high.
A blaze of white flame, Arianwyn charges theatrically across the room and stabs the proto-tiefling through the heart. Mere seconds after it falls, the portal closes. The bodies look particularly incongruous in the slightly monastic atmosphere of Weltmann's study.
Arianwyn's eyes gleam, and a feral look is on his face.
He withdraws the blade and wipes it clean.
The Gentleman moves to the bodies and delicately does something technical to their necks.
"I'm strangely averse to them revisiting us," he comments.
Weltmann meanwhile leads his old mentor to his chair and sits him down. The rescued mage seems to be in a state of shock and is temporarily at least, bereft of speech. Concern marking his face, Weltmann leaves him for a moment and turns to the group.
"Well done. Not the prettiest battle tactics, but effective. You'll be wanting to rest I expect, but before you do, I have an offer to make to you. Quite outside the university remit and if you mention I'm doing this to anyone I'll deny it."
He looks hard at you all. "There's a good deal of arcane power at my disposal. I'm proposing to put it at yours. I'll upgrade your weapons for you. From what I've seen, Kyleth hasn't improved since I knew her and you'll need more firepower."
He spins to Vel "In your case, young woman, I mean that literally."
Kia dusts herself down and smiles her first genuine smile in several hours at Weltmann.
"That's very kind indeed, and I thank you!"
Then, after a thoughtful pause:
"Look, could you do me one of those teleporty things? With my longsword? Now what was it called... one of my uncles told me about it once. 'Mithrendain', that's it!
... Could you?"
"Your uncle has good taste. Mithrendain steel isn't commonplace. A good choice for you."
Weltmann taps The Gentleman on the shoulder. "Pop along to the buttery, there's a good chap. Pick up some refreshments for them will you."
The assassin snorts slightly at being used as an errand boy, but nods. "Best have me out of the way while you discuss the mechanics I think."
"Absolutely."
Weltmann waits for the door to close behind him. "Not that it will make any difference at all if he really wants to overhear us, but one must at least go through the motions of discretion. What about the rest of you?"
He spins to Vel "In your case, young woman, I mean that literally."
Vel bristles momentarily, then regains control. "Yes, sir. My orb is of great aid, but evidently not enough. The rest is nothing a night's sleep wouldn't cure."
Then, belatedly, "Thank you."
"Yes, sir. My orb is of great aid, but evidently not enough. The rest is nothing a night's sleep wouldn't cure."
Then, belatedly, "Thank you."
"Correct. Not enough. I can amend the orb. The sleep you will have to attend to yourself."
"I would certainly like my hammer to be inescapable. This old hammer could use some help, just ain't as balanced as it used to be."
"I'd also like some help with these ring shards to be honest. I'm afraid I might lose a piece before too long."
"Perhaps my amulet could be enhanced?"
Whiteclaw ignores most of the conversation, concentrating on her usual post battle fur-cleaning ritual. Once she has done that to her complete satisfaction, she looks at her weaponry, clearly making some kind of momentous decision.
"I don't trust you to touch my totem, but you can make the axe colder," she finally rumbles.
Arianwyn studies his sword and smiles.
"If you have aught that can ensorcel this blade further, I shall be grateful." he says.
"Very well."
Weltmann moves from weapon to weapon.
Vel's orb expands slightly as he scribes a flaming rune in the air before catching it in his hands and allowing the power to pass into the arcane item.
As he touches Reason's holy symbol, the cleric feels a rush of pure healing force running the length of his body, purging some of the memories of what he has just witnessed.
For Whiteclaw, he runs his hands over the axe blade, bringing a chill to the surrounding air and waiting for a moment as the weapon draws in the new power.
Arianwyn's blade is laid on the floor and a single crackling word of power spoken. The warlock's eyes flare briefly as his pact is renewed and the blade leaps to his hand of its own volition.
As the Magister takes Kia's weapon, the blade starts to change. Like a slow blush, the steel alters, seeming to flicker in and out of his hand before taking on a new sheen. As he hands it back to her, the longsword is changed utterly, save only for the delicate initials engraved on the hilt.
Finally, Weltmann turns to Gobi, clearly nearly exhausted by his efforts on your behalf. Placing the craghammer between himself and the dwarf, he marks a runic circle around the weapon. As he chants, the runes are pulled inexorably into the fabric of the weapon, slightly changing its shape so that it take on a new and more intimidating air. Inescapable indeed.
All
"I need to make sure Pirot's none the worse and I must rest myself. The shards are something we should talk about, but it will wait. Unlike my ex-classmate."
This sounds like dismissal.
Seraphiel
At the Way with Words, Roswitha is not on duty, but the friendly half-elf at the desk has mail for some of you.
Gobi
The note is written in dwarven and although you don't recognise the handwriting, you do recognise the scent. A faint trace of Roswitha's perfume hangs over the letter.
"Dear Gobi,
It seems very forward to be calling you "dear Gobi" when we only met yesterday, but it seems as though we have known each other much longer than that. I got your note and wanted to write to you to say that I hope you're safe.
If you get back in time, I have the evening off. I don't suppose you will want to meet after a day like the one you've had but I would love to hear more about your adventures and spend more time with you.
I know my parents would think I was being rude and pushy writing to you like this, but I hope you don't mind."
The note is signed "Yours sincerely, Roswitha" Just above the signature you see the word "love" has been written and hastily scribbled out.
Vel
"I cannot tolerate seeing a mage of your calibre indulging in sloppy workmanship. Impressive spellwork is marred by a poor combat technique. I can teach you if you are willing. Be assured I am notoriously hard to please. I see a fire mage worth preserving in you. Weltmann."
Reason
An elegant italic script on a thin sheet of paper headed The Parthenon reads as follows.
"Dear Sir, I am pleased to inform you that you have been proposed for membership to the Parthenon. Your sponsor suggests that your depth of learning and wide experience would make you a welcome addition to the Club.
As you may be aware, membership is granted when your sponsor has secured the necessary signatures in support of his application. Until such time, you are most welcome to use the public facilities of the Club where you may meet with other members, thus offering them the opportunity to form their own opinion of your candidature."
At the bottom of the letter is a scribbled line in an unknown hand. It reads "Thought you might appreciate this and it's the least I can do to thank you. The Gentleman."
Rev
Reason
Rummaging under the desk, the half-elf produces three more notes. Two are mere sealed slips of paper, but the letter to Seraphiel is more substantial and bears the familiar sign of Riggarth's leaping fish.
Seraphiel
From Hroaldr: "You asked me to find a proper home for your old equipment and to be honest, I doubted I’d be able to. How wrong I was! When Bifrost sailed in last week, he brought a young paladin with him. He reminded me of you and when he mentioned that he wanted to attend a joust but had no equipment, immediately felt sure that here was a home you would approve. I told him your story and he has taken your old name in your honour.
Does the song of creation sing well for you my friend?
The dragon egg is doing well. We've found that packing it with ice seems to make it happier. The veining on the egg increases every day and we think it should hatch well. Whiteclaw has a few more months, but I think she should be here when it cracks. First impressions matter a lot to dragonkind."
P.S. Tell Gobi the new vintage Fruitful Bloom cider is disappointing. We think it must be an after-effect of the Blight.
Kia
"Madame, your beauty and expediency both won my admiration yesterday. May I beg the pleasure of your company this evening?"
The short note is signed "Riordan" in elegant cursive writing.
Arianwyn
Your note is in Narissa's familiar hand. "Dear love, will you dine with me? I have no purpose but pleasure in mind."
After reading her note with a look of irritation, Vel crumples it. After a moment, she nonetheless tucks it in her pouch.
Arianwyn smiles.
Rev
"Hey guys, I think I'm going to go meet with Roswitha. Also, at some point I need to visit a temple to pay my respects to Avandra."
"And I to rendezvous with our enchanting patroness." Arianwyn says merrily.
The half-elf smiles happily at the dwarf. "You must be Gobi. She told me about you. Her voice lowers a bit.
Arianwyn strides elegantly out of the door.
"Is there someone called Riordan staying here?"
"Riordan? I don't think so ... " the half-elf checks her ledger and then clicks her tongue. "You were here yesterday of course. You must mean Riordan. The poet. He's not a guest. He lives in Namarth. Would you like a message sent to him?"
"A poet."
"Oh."
Kia takes some note paper and writes something which she hands to the receptionist.
"If you could give him this, I would be most grateful."
"And am I still in time for a quick meal? I'm starving."
Riordan,
I'm a bit busy saving lives at the moment, but perhaps we could meet for a glass of something when I'm finished. You could join me and my friends for some sort of celebration (assuming that there is something to celebrate).
Kia.
P.S. I drink cider and ale.
P.P.S. Please don't write me any poems.
Rev
Gobi
Roswitha's smile lights up her whole face as she gazes happily, if slightly unbelievingly at you. "Della. That's her name..."
Still looking slightly stunned, she pushes aside her account books and stands up slowly, never taking her eyes away from your face.
"I was so afraid you wouldn't come back and even more afraid you wouldn't want to see me. Although I'd have understood because of course you've got more important things to do than talk to me. I know that."
The words seems to bubble out against her will and then she just grinds to a halt and blushes furiously. There is a tiny pause and then she deliberately walks over and hugs you hard, almost as though she's checking you're real.
Della the half-elf has no trouble in arranging a late evening meal for Kia.
Rev
The blushing dwarf returns the hug happily and continues.
"I was hoping I'd get to see you again." He chuckles, "I had to venture into some imaginary realm-prison, How was your day? We should sit, I didn't mean to interrupt your work." Gobi leads Roswitha back to the table and sits down with her.
Gobi
Arms happily wrapped around you, Roswitha sits and leans her head on your shoulder.
"Your dad's right about that. My parents would say the same thing really, but they're embarrassed at being city dwarfs I think. He must be so proud of you. Your dad I mean. Following in his footsteps and doing what you do."
Snuggling a little closer, she goes on. "My day won't seem that interesting to you, but it was really different for me. Narissa sent a note in the morning, asking if I'd come and see her." She blushes again.
"You know, Narissa's a legend in Namarth and I never thought I'd like her. Because you know, she's ... well, she's notorious. Anyway, the funny thing was, I really, really liked her. So that was odd. We talked and talked and she told me about how she met your friend. You know, the eladrin who sang - he's a bit frightening, isn't he?"
She pauses for a second. "I'm a bit scared of some of you to be honest. You all look so competent and I feel very ordinary, but maybe it's like Narissa and when you know them a bit better, they're not so strange after all. Anyway, Narissa told me she'd help me, with the weaponsmithing. She said - and this was a bit odd, but it made me laugh, "I think you'll need those skills Roswitha and you should always follow your heart""
Rev
"We must remove whatever evil influence remains on these books."
"Oh. And rescue anyone trapped inside, of course."
Reason
While your friends are sampling the delights of love, irritation and the cuisine on offer at the Way with Words you venture alone into the streets of Namarth in search of a tailor. The deadly sin you are indulging is vanity, and this is indeed a city able to provide.
Before too long, a lit doorway catches your eye, through which you can see bolts of cloth, enormous reels of thread and an enticing array of garments on display.
"I have a stop to make first," Vel mutters.
She adds after a moment, "Shouldn't take long."