Garron had remained silent for a while but he snarls at the word dwimmwerlailk.
"Those beasts need to be sought out and destroyed."
Let's the others talk, they where supplying information that was Pericles.
"How is a dwimmerlaik different from a writing desk? And is it bigger than a breadbox?" asked the bird, headbobbing, as if silently laughing. "I know not of these Dwimmerlaik, Connal of Davroth."
"I've never met my blood family either." he leans in, once more, "Nor has the lady. That's simply how things work where I... she is from." the bird frills his feathers slightly, then settles back down. "What of this family. How did they help to make you a great man? Or terrible man?" the bird suddenly turns its head to look at him through the opposite eye.
"They taught me how to fight, how to be a man, and what is important in life. In fact I learned to fight with my giant brothers and it was incredibly strengthening. The first time I fought someone in the pits I actually broke his neck with my first punch. After that I learned to hold back."
The bird turns his head back to the other side, eyeing Hatton with his right eye once more, though, as a bird, getting any sort of emotional information from the inky black orb was difficult.
"And how did it feel to take a life, Garron of Davroth?" The tone was one of immense curiosity, on a question so heavily weighted.
"I have no qualms 'bout takin' a life where it's deserved, but the pits are meant to be a place of sport. I was filled with guilt and refused to fight in a match until I had learned to control by blows. Lookin' back on it I think it was an important experience, but I still feel regret. No one should lose their life do to another's carelessness."
Garron takes another hearty gulp of his ale. He clearly is telling the truth but it is also obvious that he doesn't let his regret weigh on him.
"An excellent answer, Garron of Davroth. I believe we could be friends. I have never taken a life, by intent or action, though perhaps through inaction. It is impossible to be certain, but quite probable." the bird bobs his head once.
"For example, here I am speaking to you. Assuredly there are world's that could be saved while we all attend parties." the bird tilts his head, looking at either the spot his last sausage had been shredded, or into the sky. "What, may I ask, is being celebrated? My Lady and I, you see, were fashionably late as we were fashionably uninvited." The ebony raven's head turned back to vertical as he repeated his head-on-laughter.
"And rightly so! Were we invited, my lady would not have come, and then I would not have been able to stretch my wings! his head bobbed once more in silent laughter.
Skafin came done low.
::"Do you want me to keep recording mama"::
She looked over at it, she had been keeping an eye on the convention going on around.
::"If you would please Skafin, this is all very interesting"::
Wodin listens to the others talk amongst themselves, taking short sips from his drink. ~Is strange. Are similar, but so much of difference. Great Stair is of very interesting...~ the Soyuzite speaks over his collective, receiving a brash laugh in response.
~Big one is talking of glorious combat! Is all this one is concerned of!~ Wodin's psicrystal responds, still glowing softly from its place around his neck.
~You are of knowing that taking of life is sad event. Even Krievish soldiers are of having families. Of being misguided and foolhardy, but still are being of people,~ the priest respoonds, but the soft grin on his face does not fade as he continues to converse with the sentient crystal as he listens to the others speak.
"Kytons, you said? Have you had many dealings with the Plane of Shadow, Maerar? For that is my world."
"Tell me more about these...twilight beasts, Attashi. They sound like a fine hunt!"
"Plane of Shadows." Attoshi chuckles. "I have heard of it, though Nightsong lacks Outer Planes, and we must seek them through the Doors. Ours is a different sort of shadow, cast not by the specter of death but instead by the light of the five moons. Look under my table, if you would."
In the shadows under the table rests a great pile of fur, stripes, and claws, coiled in a gray pile that seems to blend into the color of the shadowed floor.
"This is Whisper, my hunting companion. During the long months of winter and summer, when the sun continuously circles the horizon, hidden behind tallgrass, Andar is lit solely by moonlight. And this is when the gray tigers, and shadow panthers, and night bears grow bold in their predation, taking man and buffalo alike from the Outer Plains. But deeper into the jungles live stranger, deadlier things, fey and fickle, the sort who travel between worlds reveling in the hunt—and those I would not speak of further outside the sacred light of Melak En."
Garron had remained silent for a while but he snarls at the word dwimmwerlailk.
"Those beasts need to be sought out and destroyed."
"Their presence is just as disagreeable as the Old Ones that dwell beyond space." Suchak agrees.
Aannra looks under the table and sees the shadow,
::"hello there, you happy down there. ."::
Then as Suchak talk of things I space.
"Old ones that dwell beyond space, would you be so kind as to expand on that comment. Precisely who are you referring to. "
She asks in a nice way showing genuine interest.
"I suppose that's somewhat inaccurate. Many of the Great Old Ones, or their priests, dwell within the normal planes of existence, I believe. But they are, as the name suggests, very old. Harbingers of madness and death, twisting everything they touch. I've only had direct dealings with the one known as Hastur, the King in Yellow, but even without his direct intervention my planet was nearly destroyed. Entire towns were mutated into hideous twisted monstrosities, and an insane woman with access to his book nearly threw Triaxus directly into his realm. Who knows what would have happened then."
"On my travels I was horrified to learn that he is not even the STRONGEST of the Great Old Ones, and his indirect machinations nearly destroyed a whole planet. Supposedly, he and the other Old Ones are in turn merely servants of even more powerful Outer Gods that lurk either beyond space or in the center of the universe, just waiting to be summoned to destroy all creation."
Suchak shudders.
"Desna willing I will never have to learn if those legends are true."
Wodin's smile slips as Suchak explains the existence of beings beyond the Soyuzite's comprehension. "That sounds terrible. I can only hope these Great Old Ones are not behind the disturbances affecting my world. No one could ever want such wanton destruction inflicted upon their home!"
Aannra nods as Suchak talks
Her mind voice talks to you.
::"That is most interesting, thank you, would you mind if I interfaced with you so I could collate the data you have got on the Great Old Ones with what little information I have myself, it would take but a moment and I always like to ask.::
Suchak puts his hand to his head.
"So long as it doesn't change or take my memories in any way, then yes. But in the future, would you mind refraining from unexpected mental communication? The way it echoes makes my head hurt when I'm not expecting it. A side effect of my encounter with a Moon Beast a while back."
Wodin's smile slips as Suchak explains the existence of beings beyond the Soyuzite's comprehension. "That sounds terrible. I can only hope these Great Old Ones are not behind the disturbances affecting my world. No one could ever want such wanton destruction inflicted upon their home!"
"I pray that they are not as well. I have researched all I can of them and their goals are still incomprehensible to me."
The door to the tavern slams open. Silhouetted in the door frame is the figure of a slender man with long flowing hair.
As the eyes of the tavern patrons adjust to the sudden light, the figure begins stumbling to the bar. It's now obvious by the man's tattered cloths that he's suffered from numerous serious wounds.
The man barks out some jumbled language at the bartender as he wearily finds a seat at the bar, "酒精!有力的!并把一杯蜂蜜太."
When the bartender returns, instead of drinking the liquor, the man pours it on the deep wound in his shoulder. He rips the long sleeve of his silk shirt off at the seem, and dabs the wound dry, then pours the honey over the cut and ties the sleeve like a bandage.
Only after this ritual does the man cock his head towards the other patrons, as if listening intently. His hand cautiously drifting to the handle of an ornately wrapped sword handle. "Apologies for the abrupt intrusion, I didn't know this place would be occupied. Tell me, am I in friendly company, or should I find another place to lick my wounds?" he says timidly, with the blind-grey of his eyes becoming apparent as he looks sideways at the group of unique and powerful beings.
"Apologies for the abrupt intrusion, I didn't know this place would be occupied. Tell me, am I in friendly company, or should I find another place to lick my wounds?"
Most of the party-goers had moved off to another table while Barrett remained at the bar nursing his drink. When another man abruptly arrived and started treating a wound, it drew his attention.
"Pretty impressive stranger, wandering in here with wounds like that. 'Spose you should count yourself lucky for it; there should be a healer around - they'll do you more good then a spot of honey."
"-and you won't need to be worrying 'bout your sword. Most of us here are just swapping tales."
Garron leaps to his feat as the door slams open, immediately ready for a fight. Upon seeing that it's just a wounded man he runs to give his assistance. He places one massive arm under the wounded man and assists him to a seat.
"We're all fellow lords here, ya'll be plenty safe. What happened to you?"
As the exotic newcomer stumbled into the bar and was subsequently helped to the table by the hulking man, the bartender set down the glass he was drying with a cloth, placed a hand on the bar and leaps over the bar to land near the table.
"I can take care of that, if you'll allow." His voice is understood by all, as if spoken in their preferred tongue.
In between the otherwise nondescript bartender's shimmering hands appears a thread spun of golden light and a small golden case.
Less than a minute behind the injured man, the door opens for an orc-sized “body” made of swirling branches and boulders floats in, not touching the ground. Those looking carefully might notice that the shadows cast by the wood and rocks don’t match the light in the area. In fact, some seems to blur the line between true shadows and inky stains, while others have a life of their own, stretching out in several directions.
Hovering in the center of the spinning debris is a jackrabbit roughly the size one might encounter on Golarion, Earth, and similar worlds. He is dressed in a tiny mithral breastplate, cloak, and golden crown. Unlike the samurai he bears no fresh wounds, but bears a scar on his cheek and a notch in his ear: signs of a rough past.
After the bartender heals the injured samurai the flying hare says, ”Healing with spun light--that's a handy ability! Psionic? My dear Queen has similar gifts." His face briefly betrays great grief.
"What do you serve here? Any lunar nectar? Dew-and-honey? Perhaps some unicorn milk? Or some distilled memories of summer?” Seeing the bartender’s expression, the hare sighs. ”Hmmm, fine. Do you at least have carrot juice?”
"Yes, powers of the mind, indeed," the bartender replies. "Not the channeling of deific power, merely organizing things as they were before the wound."
To his drink request, the bartender smiles.
"Let's not be so hasty. I deal in oddities, and I'm not unfamiliar with your kind. I'm sure I've got something that will serve your unique tastes. I'll just have to do some digging."
A broad smile blooms on the hare's face. ”You don't say? In that case...”
Several twigs and pebbles take the shape of a hand and move in concert to draw some coins from his pack. As his hand opens they float one at a time out into the bartender's hand.
”I know I mustn't assume on the Stair, though honestly I've yet to find a good cup of lunar nectar since leaving the Blooming Grove.”
While the bartender prepares his drink the hare turns to the newly healed samurai and the brute who was supporting him. His eyes narrowed at the grey-skinned brute. Could that be a kin to the giants in Belem's army? But this one genuinely seems to have a heart.
As the bartender returns he says to those gathered, "I am Oneidros, of the Blooming Grove." Once again a look of grief crosses his face. "And you? Who are you and what brings you here?"
Wodin looks to each of the newcomers, each unique and interesting in their own ways. "This may be the most eclectic group I've ever seen. The Great Stair certainly is a varied place," he comments, before taking another drink from his mug.
Suchak puts his hand to his head."So long as it doesn't change or take my memories in any way, then yes. But in the future, would you mind refraining from unexpected mental communication."
"I will respect both your wishs"
Suchak the mind hack takes a moment, its non-intrusive and sticks only to relevant knowledge related to the Old Outsider, data go's bath ways. Then like someone sifting throw a haystack at blinding speed, the combined inflammation some gets compared, some shown to be wrong, other bits listed as unknown, new info added. The processes has a mechanical feel about it. Then it stops, there seems to be two identical pattens of information. None of it holds any personal info. One side fades, the other stays in you mind, as new knowledge to be used.
Aannra says
"Thank you Suchak, that was very kind of you"
The bartender pockets the coins, then replies, "I'll be back in a few minutes, and you will have a glass of lunar nectar to pair with your story of grief."
Pausing for a moment, he continues, "Might as well dispose of this." and reaches across with his right hand to his left shoulder and tears away his clothes, which disappear in a mass of violet strands of light. From under the illusion, fine robes of varying colors flow from the wrapped bundle on his head, held in place by a crystal headpiece, down to rest just barely over the ground, perfectly tailored. Only his eyes are visible under the robes, and even they are obscured by goggles of some green-silver metal. Around the goggles, the tan skin tone of the bartender shifts to blue-green, traced almost to obscurity with faintly glowing cracks of light.
The creature produces a small scroll from one over-sized sleeve, and unfurls it. Drawing a few small lines of light with one finger as if connecting the dots, he flicks the paper in front of him to the side of the bar and the paper fades away, leaving the glowing lines floating in midair. The lines grow and rearrange to form an outline then fill in with color to produce a merchant's wagon comprised of countless materials, some familiar, many unfamiliar.
The man walks into the back of the wagon and rummages around for a few minutes. The jingle of bells, clinking sounds of glass containers, grinding of stone and clatter of wooden lids can be heard before he emerges with a bottle and returns to hand it to the hare as he calls a glass over from the bar with some unseen force. The door of the wagon closes of its own accord moments after he leaves it.
Suchak puts his hand to his head."So long as it doesn't change or take my memories in any way, then yes. But in the future, would you mind refraining from unexpected mental communication.""I will respect both your wishs"
** spoiler omitted **
Aannra says
"Thank you Suchak, that was very kind of you"
"Any time."
Wodin looks to each of the newcomers, each unique and interesting in their own ways. "This may be the most eclectic group I've ever seen. The Great Stair certainly is a varied place," he comments, before taking another drink from his mug.
"It' why it's so wonderful. Always something new to see. Sometimes you see more than you wish, but never less."
The blind man releases his tentative grip on the exotic blade as Garron's meaty hands begin assisting him with his wounds.
With a clearly more jovial tone,"WELL! I suppose introductions are in order then! Today, I am Zaitoichi Sanzô, You may call me Zatoichi. Tomorrow, I may be someone else entirely!"He says with a playful smile growing on his lips. I've just arrived from a battle with the minions of the Dwimmerlaik. I found a caravan of the 混蛋 taking more of my people away. I am from the Land of Sîshen, once beautiful. Now... cut from The Stair. I've come here for rest after rescuing as many of my people as possible, and whisking them away to my demi-plane."
Sanzô looks to the man who spoke his language. "没有那么令人印象深刻的一个瞬移。你的赞美是好事，有。 这是很好听的祀神语言。"
As the merchant walks to the back of his wagon, Sanzô calls out "Gratitude for the healing, Wūpó. If there is any compensation required, I will gladly pay it.
Finally, Sanzô takes a deep sniff of the air, and cocks his head towards the creature that followed him in. "Well met, Oneidros of the Blooming Grove, I've never met a Tù xiá before. I hope this day finds you well, friends!"
"Good will can be compensation to the order of magnitude of gold with interest, in cases. Earning a new customer is often more lucrative than demanding simple recompense." the merchant trails off for a moment, waxing contemplative as he leans back in his chair.
As everything seems to shift, the bird watches with some interest. After a few moments, though, the halfling sets down the quill and pulls up her sleeve, looking at a watch. She blows across the page and closes the book with a snap, and begins collecting her things.
The bird does something approaching a shrug, and flaps towards her, "No time to say Hello, goodbye! flits out of his little beak.
Then he's at her side helping her to gather her things. He's the last of her 'belongings' to disappear, slipping into the top of her hoodie and disappearing once more.
Then the two head off, back the way they came.
When he hears mention of a battle with the Dwimmerlaik , the constant swirling of Oneidros' branch-and-boulder "body" freezes for a moment and the hare's hairs stand on end.
"What? Where?! Was there one who appeared to as a massive suit of grey plate with a green glow coming from within? I seek to locate Belem of the Dwimmerlaik who has stolen something of great import from my people. Any aid in finding him would be most appreciated."
"Unfortunately, Master Oneidros, I only slew a number of their minions. No, I did not encounter any Maō during this venture, or I may not have returned at all this time. His tone suddenly more somber. "I do, however, share your desire to find that particular man, since he sounds like the one who cut my world off from the Stair. I didn't get a name though."
Turning his attention back to the merchant, "A drink this time, Wūpó, If you'd please... And another for Master Oneidros. It seems that I have a companion in grief."
Skafin comes down and Aannra looks at images of Dwimmerlaik he projects for her.
"Facinating"
Suchak, being quite nosy for someone with no nose, looks over curiously at Genjo's statement.
"He cut your world off from the Stair? I wasn't aware that was even possible. At least, not permanently."
"No problem. His is a sipping drink, but I imagine after your tribulations, you'd like something a little more forthright... but I will bring two bottles, just in case you'd rather relax."
The merchant steps away for a moment, digging around in his wagon once more. When he returns, he holds a bottle in each hand, and another set of hands produce two glasses and place them on the table. One bottle is a yellow wine, and the other is a rose-tinged concoction with the pickled body of an exotic specimen of vermin within.
"Cut your world off from the Stairs? My world used to be cut off as well. I reconnected it, that's how I got here in the first place." As he speaks some unknown, unseen force pulls on his hair and keep pulling as Maerar doesn't respond. Finally he sighs and adds, "Well, it wasn't really me. It was the sheer forces of the thousands of souls trapped inside a crystal tree forcing their way through after I freed them."
"What is the severance actually doing to your world? For mine it appears it was locked in the state it was in at the moment it was cut and souls weren't able to leave and join the beyond."
Sanzô's sightless gaze slowly drifts to the floor as he contemplates how to best answer Suchak's question. "I don't know how they did it, and I hope beyond hope that it is not the truth of things, but I've been searching for another Door to Sîshen for a years now, and I have yet to find one... Before she pushed me into the Door, Kyra made me promise to find her." The man's colorless eyes begin to spill tears down his cheeks, "该死的她！。。。 为什么不能，她只是跑了，当我告诉她！"
He wipes the tears from his eyes, and collects himself for a moment. "The Maō... The Dwimmerlaik... Invaded through the gates of Fêng Dû, about a dozen of them with a huge group of their followers, lead by the one Master Oneidros mentioned. While Kyra and I fought their minions and a couple of the Maō themselves, the rest began performing some kind of ritual that would ultimately seal the Door to my home. I was cut down and dying, when she threw me through the portal. I know there is a way back to Sîshen somewhere here, because I've caught a few caravans of slaves with people from my home traveling the Grand Stairs."
Sanzô turns his ear towards Maerar, "Those I have rescued tell me that they've been enslaved by the Maō for over five-hundred years. I don't know what I will find when I go back, but They will pay for what they've done, and my people will be free once again. There has to be a way to set things back to before they invaded."
"Odd. They only sealed my homeworld after they left, or maybe they didn't. I don't know who cut my world off. I do know that the Dwimmerlaik used to live on my world and they built massive black citadels that the kyton started using after they left. They only started killing my people after we started to resist the change they brought to our world. After that my own people went into hiding underground. We were changed as well though." He offers the odd man a weak smile, "That is what the stories say at least, and what the spirits tell me."
"I am sorry for the pain you had to endure, friend-Kami
Stealth: + invisibility.
A tiny humanoid-looking creature sneakily flies towards the bar in the hanging gardens, curiously eying the other beings there superficially while making sure to stay hidden and near shadows
Stepping hurriedly out of a portal a man in full armor gripping a polearm nearly runs right into the crowd.
"Excuse me."
"They cut off yar world? That can happen? I would be be glad to offer my assistance in taking down your foe. Haven't had a good fight in weeks."
Wodin listens to Genjo's plight, rubbing his chin with a concerned look. "I only wish more worlds were like mine," he grieves. "Hopefully you will be able to free the rest of your people. If I were not pressed to protect my own world, I would certainly wish to help you regain your own."
After Maerar came into being Aanra wanted to know who was tugging on the imps hair,
To any one looking a number of odd circuitry like pattons glow over her skin, the glow a light blue, her eyes also change, swiveling around in there sckets to be replaced with electric blue orbs. Of what she sees she says nothing. All she seems to do is glance around.
Wodin sighs as he feels a prodding in his mind. The air fills with the scent of cinnamon as his eyes flash a soft blue as he turns to give Aannra a tired look. "Lass, I am pretty sure multiple people have already asked you to not going digging around in their heads. It's rude," he says, his tone clearly not intended to scold the woman, but rather to explain what she's done wrong.
Stepping hurriedly out of a portal a man in full armor gripping a polearm nearly runs right into the crowd.
"Excuse me."
"Welcome, newcomer. There is a seat here if you'd like to relax." the merchant-bartender says, and a chair moves from the next table over to the large table he and a few others sit at.
"Ha, they just keep commin'. Does anyone know who actually invited us all here?"
"Now that I think about it, I actually know someone who sort of cut off her own world from the stair." Then Maerar falls silent, seemingly filtering what he can and can't say next, "Maybe restrict access is a better way to put it. She can make the door at the stair vanish and only have it reappear when she wants it to." Or when he wanted it to, somehow he got a key as well. "It took a lot of power to get that though. She was a Gossamer Lord before but had to invest all her ability in that and now she is restricted to her own home."
"Ha, they just keep commin'. Does anyone know who actually invited us all here?"
Pondering on the question a moment, the mysterious merchant replies, "I posit that we were not invited. After all, this warrior came through the door after suffering a wound. Perhaps he opened a door and ended up here rather than his intended destination. The Staircase is strange in that way."