Now open for dots.
She looks up at you and winks. I hear your wives have you running an errand.
You return to your barracks to find that a gnome is sitting on your bed reading the latest Pathfinder Chronicle! Her skin is slightly green and her hair a luscious red which gives her the look of a living rose. Her arms are literally on fire and it looks like her skin has been transformed into a bed of coals. The fire is obviously magical as it isn't burning her clothes or the paper. Her colors aren't quite bright enough, however. Then it hits you. A bleachling!
Evening, Rosaline. she says. Bored yet?
Hey, lovers. She says with a glance at your companion behind you. One last trip, huh?
You throw open the door to your bedroom and ate surprised to find you have a visitor. A gnome is sitting on your bed reading the latest Pathfinder Chronicle! Her skin is slightly green and her hair a luscious red which gives her the look of a living rose. Her arms are literally on fire and it looks like her skin has been transformed into a bed of coals. The fire is obviously magical as it isn't burning her clothes or the paper. Her colors aren't quite bright enough, however. Then it hits you. A bleachling!
Good morning, Oliveo. You know, it's not polite to keep a girl waiting.
Just one more life. Just one more identity. Just one more part to play. You've spent a few years on this one, and you're proud of the web you've spun. None should be able to track you to your former selves. Not without considerable investment, anyway.
You arrive home after a good day's work to find a gnome is sitting on your bed reading the latest Pathfinder Chronicle! Her skin is slightly green and her hair a luscious red which gives her the look of a living rose. Her arms are literally on fire and it looks like her skin has been transformed into a bed of coals. The fire is obviously magical as it isn't burning her clothes or the paper. Her colors aren't quite bright enough, however. Then it hits you. A bleachling!
Hey Charlotte. Catch anything recently? She asks with a wink. [/b]
Years have taught you much. You have found your center, the eye of your storm. With the guidance of the Master dozens of dragons have fallen to your blade and hundreds of people fed by the charity in which he had involved you. At the end of another long day of preparing fields for planting, you enter the Master's house to find him in his glistening, natural form talking with a gnome. Her skin is slightly green and her hair a luscious red which gives her the look of a living rose. Her arms are literally on fire and it looks like her skin has been transformed into a bed of coals. The fire is obviously magical as it isn't burning her clothes or the paper. Her colors aren't quite bright enough, however. Then it hits you. A bleachling!
Hey Toska. Draco here was just telling me all about you.
A date I’d forgotten? A fan from this evening’s performance? She’s not unbecoming but...
He smiles at his guest and says ”I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, my Flaming Rose. Remind a weary bard: where do I know you from and to what do I owe this pleasure?”
She weighted Hope in her hand but when no threat grew apparent she placed it on the rack at the wall, confident that she could reach the spear if the gnome did indeed have well hidden evil intent.
"No." Rosa replied and started removing her armour, neglecting to offer greetings back. The gnome was, after all, intruding in her private room. And she is certainly *not* welcome to do that. "Not until this blighted abomination is purged, the rift sealed. When the world is whole again, then I will premit myself to be 'bored'"
"You may be a fellow Pathfinder," Charlotte responds in Sylvan, reaching for the Rod of Persistence at her belt, "But trespassing is still a crime, and your sort ought to know that. You've got thirty seconds to convince me not to turn you into a gnat."
I take it you have business to conduct with myself or my wives?
He asked politely.
Rosina immediately moves in front of her living partner - or rather, through him, her insubstantial body shifting through his like smoke passing through maille. How did you get in here? she demands, her voice coming from every direction at once, warped as if underwater.
Johnne gently holds a hand over his lover's shoulder; it passes through the wisps of vapour and dreamstuff that comprise her hair, still as long and wavy as it was in life. "One last journey," he confirms, nodding, his own voice a strained whisper. "How did you know? And who are you?" After all, the innkeepers of Absalom weren't known for letting just anyone into their clients' private rooms.
I must say, I expected you to protest. Most of the others have at least had questions.
Aspects of her tickle your mind like a puzzle piece that won't quite fit where it should. (You could recognizes her if you rolled higher) You sense no threat from her, but her words are not telling everything they could as she responds, My name is Percy. You know me from certain tales of old, but that is history almost forgotten. I'm here about history that is being remembered, and want to ask if you'd like to be a part of it.
What's interesting is the item your setting off to find. I happen to know some people who know what you know and came to ask if you'd like come company with a pulse in this mad quest of yours.
With a smile that's warm despite his tiredness, Oliveo muses aloud "Being part of History in the Making? Some great travail to prevent the destruction of Great Beauty, or to allow new Beauty to blossom, with me there to write songs about it, as it happens?
“OK Percy, you know how to pique my attention. And I normally adore a cat-and-mouse game but I’m awfully tired so be a dear and either tell me how I can make history or make room in that bed so that I can get some much deserved shut eye."
As he asks he spins and lifts his arms overhead in a short, graceful bit of dance.
Baba Yaga created the Veil of Frozen Tears as retribution
against her daughter Tashanna and her upstart rebellion.
As the Witchwar concluded, the survivors of the rebelling
army were captured by Baba Yaga’s forces. A massive purge
then took place, in which the Old Crone’s monstrous
soldiers rounded up the families of all the disloyal troops.
These terrified civilians—men, women, and children—
were forced to undergo a brutal march north to the
uttermost edge of Baba Yaga’s kingdom. Many of them
did not survive the long road of cold and deprivation,
and those who did remained haunted to the end of their
days by what they found at the end of their journey. At the
head of a narrow valley, they found their loved ones—the
hundreds of captured soldiers—chained to the massive
stone escarpment. The deposed Queen Tashanna and her
war captains stood huddled under guard on one slope of
the valley, while the hapless families of the condemned
stood below on the valley floor. Baba Yaga’s infamous
hut stood atop the escarpment like an enthroned ruler
surveying her domain.
While the horrified crowd of thousands watched, Baba
Yaga stepped from the entrance of her hut and wove a mighty
spell that rerouted an icy river flowing through the nearby
mountains and brought it to the cliff’s edge just above the
hundreds of chained prisoners. The sudden rushing flood
poured over the cliff face. The chained prisoners were held
helplessly in its path as the onslaught tumbled down upon
them. Many were killed outright by the crushing weight of
the water and the debris it carried, or were ripped bodily from
the face of the cliff—leaving twisted limbs still manacled
to the rock—as they tumbled to their doom hundreds of
feet below. Others drowned as the newly formed waterfall
gushed down over them, stealing their breath even as it
numbed their bodies with its cold.
The crowd of onlookers below was not spared the
slaughter. Too late they realized their jeopardy as the
mighty waters rushed over the cliff and into the valley.
They fled in droves for the slopes of the valley, but many
hundreds were unable to escape before being swept away
in the catastrophic flood. Thus Queen Tashanna and
her captains learned the price of their betrayal as they
watched their loyal followers being wiped out, and saw
even the families of those followers destroyed by the Old
Crone’s vengeance.
Finally, as her fabled hut stood firm on its perch in the
midst of the rushing flow, Baba Yaga cast a final spell.
With a wave of her hand, the tumbling waters below her
froze solid into a cyclopean column of twisted ice spilling
over the cliff’s edge and into the valley. With another
motion, she summoned great ice worms that rose from
the snows and ice of the valley slopes and began to tunnel
into the frozen cataract, creating tunnels and chambers
within the frozen tomb. The last sight beheld by the
surviving families as they were led away on their long
march south was of Tashanna and her war captains being
taken in chains to face their own fates in the newly carved
tunnels of the frozen veil that now hid their deceased
loved ones. None of the officers of the former witch
queen were ever seen in Irrisen again. The Old Crone’s
vengeance was complete, and the Witchwar became but
a distant memory as the nation of Irrisen, bloodied but
whole again, continued on beneath the rule of another of
her daughters.
The Torc of Kostchtchie is a large golden necklace that holds a fragment of the Demon Lord's soul. It was crafted by Baba Yaga herself. Kostchtchie will stop at nothing to possess the Torc
Now that you have more to go on, you remember that a pair of gnome sisters, Allie and Percy Silvershaper, were among the heroes that helped bring an end to the last Witchwar. Percy is a Chaos Mage at least as powerful as each of you if not slightly more. Stories about her make her sound like a walking Wild Magic zone with spells never retraining their original purpose and wild magic events occuring on a regular basis.
The fatigue fades from you like you have been washed in a Calistrian bath and you geek ready to face a new day.
I'm going to give you two names. Let's see how big your eyes get. Veil of Frozen Tears. Torc of Kostchtchie.
I have... been used to working alone, or mostly alone, but somehow I have a feeling that well, this one wont be so simple. I assume then you have others to work with.
He frowned toying with the edges of his gauntlets. Everything was suspicious about this gnome, but he had done stranger things with less trustworthy people.
I assume they are trustworthy... as perhaps, you are?
Oliveo shakes his head and massages a temple. ”Well, the Torc has been hidden by Baba Yaga’s magics for centuries, if I’m not mistaken. Has it been located within the Veil? Does someone have it in their hands? I’m not sure which would be worse: it being returned to Kostchtchie himself, or claimed by another powerhungry daughter of the Queen of Witches.”
Sitting down on the edge of his bed to meet his guest's eyes, he adds, "You have indeed managed to interest me, Percy. Please go on. First though," he smiles "let me say, it's an honor to have a visit from one of the mighty Silvershaper sisters."
"They seldom venture far from their realms, covering behind their walls and minions. And I doubt you are suggesting to plough a way straight trough the Abyss, you do not seem to be the type." The last bit comes out a tiny bit condescending, hinting that Rosa *might* be the sort of type to try that stunt - if only given a good opportunity. With a sigh she collects herself, forcing politeness back in her tone. "So what are you suggesting?"
I can transport you or I can give you the time and location of the gathering. Which do you prefer?
As far as I know no one has actually gained possession of the Torc yet. We would know if that happened. But we are behind in the race, for sure. Forces from Issiren and the Demon Lord's giants have both been reported near the Veil, and neither is pulling punches.
"The veil?" Rosalines eyes narrowed. The gnome seemed to be jumping ahead of herself. Ungrateful witches - they are of no use. But a demon lord? Hmm. That must be stopped. And ... purged. "What is 'it' they search? What fuels the desire of both the ice witches and demons?"
The Issiriani found it first and broke the wards hiding it from Kostchtchie. The Torc itself contains a living portion of the Demon Lord's soul and Kostchtchie well stop at nothing to get it. His giants are converging on the Veil as we speak.
Also moving on the hill is the current Queen of Issiren. If either of them gets their hands on it, as I said...
"Dire news then. But I require one more thing - to know what you intend to do with the Torc once it is retrieved. And your word that it is for the best of this world."
Unless it is close by, or you think my wife could teleport me there. He was quiet for a moment, leaving home was always difficult, it seemed to get harder every single time... but this this was important.
Ignoring the way Rosina draws herself up as if to strike, Johnne nods slightly at the gnome - Percy, she'd called herself? What an odd name. "Company with a pulse... I'm not used to such things." He glances at his ghostly companion, her head low, a translucent tear running down one cheek. "I doubt we can do this alone. Who are these others?"
"It'll be nice to travel with others for a change... I wonder what they look like? he starts off speaking with a smile but the last words drift off, more him thinking aloud than generally asking a question of new Fey mistress.
Turning back toward Percy, he continues, ”Beautiful, isn’t she? We met when I was last in Sargava, touring the countryside a bit after a performance in Eleder. But back to Adventure and Making History! Who exactly is going to on this daring mission? You and your sister? I don’t think any other members of your original party would still be alive now, would they?
“And I have my trusty carpet. It’ll get us there, but not quickly. Do you have a better means of transport?”
Imbrex? Why do they care? "Very well then. When do we leave?" Rosa continued and started to write a note explaining her absence. It would be dishonourable to just leave without explanation, after all!