An idea born of one bright spot among the darkness. No idea of who, what or where upon awakening, The one thought to penetrate the veil was telling me I'm owed a fine treasure. At the time, I did not know the treasure was trapped. Gul says.
She lifts her head and says to some unseen force Jest she says
In one shard of the broken mirror of your perception, you slide down into a covert stance by the wall, watching the events play out below. You’re watching this Imazael from behind, so you do not see what she sees. She’s so concerned, she doesn’t see Gulirk stride onto the balcony. This dhampir is halfway to the door before Gul stops her with a comment. Then, a pair of black blurs dart out from the doorway, wrap around Imazael’s face, and haul her up into the darkened room beyond.
In the adjacent cell, you hesitate for half a second. A simple door out of the corner of your eye becomes a dark opening. A broken hinge is just visible. Predators can spot a blind when they see one. One moment’s hesitation brings Gul upstairs in this Imazael’s full view. You seem to abandon stealth, here. You and Gul are loud about your unconventional relationship statuses. The two of you stop as you spot something downstairs, but no beast comes.
• What happened here recently?
• What is about to happen?
• What should I be on the lookout for?
• What here is useful or valuable to me?
• Who’s really in control here?
• What here is not what it appears to be?
Feel free to elaborate your question, or repeat questions.
Kyrillosr looks at the gnomes quizzically, trying to have them reveal what they want without sounding suspicious. "What's more valuable than gold? I might have some spare seaweed if you're looking for that."
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Gul hopes beyond hope that her father is among the gnomes. For some reason it is hard for her to lock onto their faces. One gnome seems to coalesce into her father's nose, into her father's lips, into her father's eyes.
How could this be? Reality forming around desire. Could it have something to do with the portals that the gnomes created. Doorways that open upon other planes, elemental planes. Elementals were getting easier and easier to find.
Imazael is pulled through the door by a jet figure, and tossed into the corner, she looks up at the dark figure, darker still than the room around her. It has to be a shadow, the lost spirit of some raven cultist, or some poor bastard they summoned, now consigned to the darkness until such a time as it is lain to rest. there are stories of shadows serving vampires, maybe for once her curse will prove a boon.
Creature of darkness, I am Imazael, Lady of the Cursewood SHe says, trying to channel her vampiric side, allowing it free reign of titles and commands. it feels a little too natural Yield your will, and aid me she says, eyes glowing and a strange second timbre joining her voice, as she edges toward the door, just in case this crazy plan blows up in her face.
[dice=intimidate/charm the "Shadow" into helpfulness or at least not hurting]2d6+1[/dice]
"Yer clothes or lack thereof is none'a the business of the gods as long as yet not botherin' anyone. Anyways, a few things I should -" Wait. Something more valuable than gold? Well, gold didn't exactly make good currency, what with the effects it had, but they usually took gold happily. These goblins obviously weren't -
This wasn't happening, right? He heard goblins. He distinctly remembered hearing goblins. These were goblins. They were SUPPOSED to be goblins.
DAMMIT they weren't goblins.
At least they weren't interested in the gold. These ones were probably...reasonably...safe. But then...what were they after?
"Sorry about that. I was expectin' goblins. Yer not after the gold, so I guess it's fine though. But, ah...what are ya after? Lassiter didn't really tell us too much'a what's goin' on." He thought. Hard to know for sure when he didn't even know how he got here.
When you look up, Imazael is gone. You don’t remember all of the could-have-beens, but you feel a spike of panic at the notion that she’s disappeared through a darkened doorway.
Your short stop at the balcony gave you a fresh perspective on Lassiter’s supine form. He was standing in a circle marked on the flagstone floor. There was some kind of ritual that Lassiter was performing, and judging from the lore behind the relics involved, it may mean he’s still alive… in one form or another.
When the wide pads wrap around your face, you’re disgusted to discover the tiny hooks, like a cat’s tongue, or shark’s skin, dig into your face as you’re hauled into the rafters of the church’s belltower.
The figure that looms over your form is like a smear of grease on a window, its appearance, the rough-spined paddles that kidnapped you, and its low, self-satisfied purr can only mean you’ve fallen prey to a displacer beast.
When you speak the shadow tongue, the beast backs away, giving you the space the win free. Its eyes flash between sullen red and sallow green before returning to hollow pits. You may try to jump down from the rafters from your current height, run along them, trying to keep your balance or jump for the rope hanging from the middle of the room.
The lead gnome shakes his shoulders as if a chill had run down his back, and puffs out his chartreuse moustaches. “Pardon, how very silly of me. It is, of course, a very silly time, so I’ll excuse myself- thank you, myself. In any case, I am Blattbartt “Lemongrass” Ketodur, a leader among the gnomish refugees. Lassiter promised us an elemental if we would supply his followers with some food. I thought you fine, upstanding folk could use something a bit more tasty than some dry porridge mix or that deplorable hard tack you are always eating, so I brought some fresh bread. We have seen the mischievous signs of the elemental outside, but where is it? I hope you haven’t tried to tie it down. -at least not with rope. Not to be indelicate, but they are hardly civil creatures.”
In for a copper, in for a gold Imazael thinks, trying to remeber how vampire domination works. Blood Bonds, the idea hits her quickly. Vampires can give some of their gifts, if they give a healthy mortal their blood. it also binds he creature tight to the vampire, utterly entrances and enthralled by it's new undead master.
Using her nail, she opens the vein in her wrist, and offering it to the creature Drink deep, my friend, and taste immotality she says, the words flowwing from some alien corner of her mind.
The creature slides closer, sniffing at the proffered hand before relaxing visibly, coming into focus while they lick at the empowered blood. They are by no means tame, but their blood resonates with yours. You may be able to train this creature to perform a task on command with some time. Until then, they may take some convincing to cede to your intentions.
Gul wants to yell a warning about delving into strong emotion, but something more pressing keeps her mouth silent. She pulls her knife and moves into the next room. Instinctively, the orc knows what Imazael is going to try for.
Gul drops her knife and gives Imazael words whispering echos with her own voice
Gul puts the knife away at the back of her tunic. She stares at it, then closes her eyes. She builds up love and connection with the beast in her own mind. Must believe. Must believe.
Imagined or remembered, the new story of the beast and Gul unfolds inside her. How she raised Ginger from a displacer pup. How they hunted for elementals together. How they played and had fun.
You're bone-chillingly certain Imazael has been devoured by a displacer beast. This is a predatory creature with six legs, two stinging tails, and a face full of sharp teeth. It's a creature that prowls the edges of reality, and can instinctively pass in and out of causality. It is a cat which is both there, and not-there. It will take more than aiming to hit this creature.
Name : Rhistel
That damned orc intrudes no doubt here for yet another ill-planned seduction. this would be fine, a cold-shoulder and maybe another talk about her timing. Unfortunately, the displacer beast decides that Gul looks tasty.
as HE descends upon the infuriating/lovable orc, Imazael yells out Rhistel, no!. That one is a friend.
The creature backs down, coalescing onto their haunches. They seem interested to see how the two of you resolve this.
When Imazael first saw the beast in a straw strewn stall. Gul could see her fall in love with the animal.
Imazael asks Does he have a name?
Other than patient, no. you know we can't keep him as a pet. It's too dangerous. the orc replies.
Don't be boring. I am more dangerous than Rhistel. says Imazael as she strokes the animal's fur.
Gul resigns herself to many hours of training, feeding, walking and loving their new pet.
Gul tries keep both Rhistel and Ginger in her mind, but the mental pictures don't coalesce.
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An elemental? Why would they want an elemental? Then again, all this talk of fire and it seems like one has been making trouble. Maybe the gnomes just police these things. Bloody hard for most folks to try something like that, what with elementals being as powerful as they are.
They're probably trying to apprehend the one that was burning everything. That sounds about right.
...wasn't there one loose in the basement? Pretty sure there was. It's not exactly restrained or anything, just shut in a locked room, but he could swear there was one in the basement...
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Phraanz notices that his chest seems to be tightening with a sence if forboding, but he dismisses it, thinking that his pecs are just getting jealous at all the action his legs and delts are getting. He thinks that it might be a good time to drop and knock out a quick 50 pushups, but then he sees the other dhampir, and decides to do them later.
He sniffs the air reflexively and peers into the room, taking the measure of it before walking in.
It looks like someone whas not totally phamped like you. The Dhampir in the middle of the room is riddled with massive phuncture wounds. It was an easy miss, what with the red cahpet. The cahpet is pulled up from the flooah near the dooah, indicating a strahgle, and revealing a plate in the flooah, just inside the dooah. The dhampir on the flooah, un-phamped as he is, is also a Lontash Sympathizer, and paht of the Wraith’s Bloodline. The area holds the scent of the dead, recently disturbed. The dhampir on the flooah has returned to the dust he was born from. Other than the faint taste in your own blood, this place appears untouched by the animate dead.
None of the gnomes have seen Lassiter’s body, and a woman from the mob drapes his face with a kerchief to help keep things from getting complicated.
Lemongrass cracks a sure smile. “Right then, I suppose it would make sense to deliver half now and the remainder on delivery? At least to free up our own hands.” The gnome gestures to his companions, and three Baskets of Bread are offered to the party.
Urimop, overwhelmed by circumstance, offers his bow and arrows to anyone who might be able to use them.
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Several weeks ago Phraanz had butchered up an entire pig, cut it into small pieces, added ground ginger, stirred it into a thick slurry, then drank the whole thing raw, trying to get to the very heart of epic pahmpitude. Alas for our hero, he contracted a virulent virus. It would have killed an ordinary man, but Phraantz was able to power through it, although he had not felt his normal pahmpilicious self since.
Having finally had time to get in a good leg workout, combined with a constant reminder that death is waiting, even for those of legendary pahpaciousness, he feels that the virus is now...
...letting up, for the most part. Although still not yet to his normal status of maximum pahpisimous, he is feeling a good deal better.
"Ya, I am tinking da taught dat dere is zumzing ve'ry bahd going on in dis places, ya. Mebbe it is loooking like zomeone is having mebbe a reason to be getting rid of ahll da supportahs of dis...und da supportahs of dat...und tings of dat nature," he says very seriously to no one.
Taking only a few moments to pounce his pecs, he takes a knee and flings the cahpet aside and examines the plate in dah floah.
I thought it was supposed to love me Imazael pouts in the darkness, before stepping into the light.
I see you still have your touch with beasts. we need to get back down there, that ritual isn't over, and Lassiter is still alive. she says, rushing down the stairs.
Wait, Imazael The orc says I have an idea. We need a great deal of rope.
Gull looks around the bell tower floor for enough rope to string from the tower bell to the main floor. If we can ring the bell and synchronize everyone to think on the same thing before the next pulse, We may be able to fix a position to move forward. She shakes her head, and looks at Emma with real terror.
As the future and the past get blurrier and blurrier. We will have no anchor, and then we will be lost with no purpose.
There seemed to be rope everywhere, Gul climbs onto Ginger, and races to the bell to secure one end. The orc pushes Ginger to head down and pick up Imazael. They ride over the balcony and down the wall and into the main room.
Everyone, Please help! Every time I ring the bell. Say "Lassiter is alive"
*Ding*
Tell me more, this seems like an... interesting... idea Imazael says, before a bit of inspiration strikes her Lassiters signet, it was all glowy during the... thing. it could probably help us She thinks.
I'll be back up in a moment, I just need to get that ring, and my symbol. she says, rushing down the stairs.
"Lassiter is alive," Kyrillosr dutifully proclaims, but clearly not convinced.
Kyrillosr graciously accepts the bow and arrow from Urimop. "I would probably do best shooting from afar."
What was the orc doing? What was that thing WITH the orc? Some kind of pet they'd not heard about? Why was she telling everyone to say that Lassiter was alive?
...he WAS in the crowd! That dead guy's just some random person! If everyone shout that he's alive enough, he'll come forth! He has to!
He bangs his staff on the ground. "Ya all heard 'er! Say it, and MEAN it! Show ev'ryone how much ya mean it! Come on now!" With steady staff banging and a harsh look, he encourages them to go along with it. As he attempts to pet Ginger, he ponders how long it'll be before Lassiter comes forth.
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The crowd (tentatively at first, but with increasing fervor) chants in time with the bell.
Just when it seems nothing will happen, an octopus flops onto the altar from somewhere below, splays out their arms, and shouts: "Ta-da!"
Everyone looks at the cephalopod for a moment before a lady among the villagers shrieks and feints to the floor.
"Oh, jeez, I didn't expect that. She'll be alright? She'll be alright... Ahem. She'll be all right. Your God has arrived! Please organize yourselves into tidy ques of worshipers on the left and clergy on the right. May the blessings of LASaROS follow you to the end of your days."
"...for those'a us who haven't a bloody clue - who are ya, and why are ya a bloody octopus? And for that matter, where the hell am I supposed ta stand? I've got a god, and I'm pretty sure the Goldcrafter ain't got any damn tentacles."
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Kyrillosr is fascinated by the octopus, an icon known to him from his days in the river. There weren't exactly octopuses there, but merpeople usually knew their marine animals well.
Overawed by the creature, he was willing to disavow Midas once and for all and start worshiping LaSaROS, whatever that was. Just as long as Muirkhom not know.
Wanting to know more about it, Kyrillosr begins to ask questions. "Who are you? What is the meaning of your octopus form?" The questions were no different than those of Muirkhom, but they certainly came out more respectfully.
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While checking out the plate in the floor, Phraantz, realizing he might be missing something important, hunches over, grabs the body, and starts doing a set of bent-over rows, so he's not forgetting to work the back and rear-delts.
He hears a commotion going on upstairs, but dismisses it. He doubts anything too exciting was going to happen. At worst the people might get anxious that the greedy dwarf was trying to keep all the gold to himself, but that wasn't strange at all.
Okay, gotta get the ring, get my necklace, bandage my arm... WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!? The octopus takes her completely by surprise, and her vampiric instincts kick in fast, and her eyes glow green as she approaches the beast
You have the honour of addressing Imazael, Lady ascendant of the Cursewood. She says, stepping forward toward the cephalopod You declare the coming of Lasaros, are you they, or their harbinger?
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One of the creature's arms slides over to one of his large, watery eyes. "Well damn." Back to furious jazz-tentacles "-but whatever! I'm telling you guys, I had some reservations at first, back when I was a meat-popsicle, but now that I operate on a cosmic level, I really think we'll get on all right."
"Muirkhom! Buddy! Not at all. I was just communing with Midas- you're doing a great job. Keep it up and all that. You don't have to do this God's work, as long as your doing a God's work, we'll be peachy keen. Do we still have peaches?" The octopus slides to the edge of the altar and holds out two arms, eyes squinting.
A single, unripe, peach appears and drops onto the floor, rolling past Lassiter's dead body.
"Imazael? Not you too. Come on, this was at least 40% your idea. You got me the, ah... the... that thing!" He points at the chalice. "This is how we fix the Flux. You were right, the pantheon is totally buggered. Your, uh, Ivalice- Iblis? Ibris! He's uh, not looking good." He leans in conspiratorially. "-though, between you and me? That might just be his thing."
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Gul strokes Ginger's blacker than night fur. I understand now. The orc pulls the 'locket' from her battered leather tunic pocket. And this would now be a holy relic. with a flick of her thumb, she extends the key from the fob.
With grace, Gul dismounts in a single movement. You are the anchor. However, I would have preferred returning to... She searched for the right words. my normal reality
She carefully moves closer, pausing to pick the peach from the floor. You being an ascended god...through our efforts... your word is law, right? By your own words, we could simply create another to suit our tastes and worship them.
Closer and closer she moves. So, offer your purpose. So that we may decide if you are to be worshiped or replaced. Gul raises the peach to her lips, and takes a bite.
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Muirkhom stares at the Lassi-pus. "Hold...hold on. Ya...spoke? Wi' Midas? And I'm doin'...a good job?" Tears well up in his eyes as he smiles happily. "I...I need a moment."
The dwarf walks over to the pile of gold in the room. He sits eyes closed and cross-legged, his staff laid across his legs and his holy symbol clutched in hand. And prays.
Midas...I'm proud to do yer work. And I'll do it as long as I live. I'll give ya form, in all yer glory. I'll keep the gold away from those that can't endure it. I'll do my best ta make ya proud, Midas. I can only hope I'm worthy ta hear ya too one day.
He'd have stayed like that a while if not for one thought.
Dammit, Phraanz still has some'a the gold! I got distracted from my duties! I gotta get it off'a him before gold madness sets in! Sorry, I'll get it done!
Muirkhom scrambles to his feet, and is about to rush down to the basement when he looks back to the pile of gold. He couldn't leave this either. "Agh...anyone got somethin' I can carry all'a this in?" He points to the gold pile.
Lassiter! Imazael shouts as it finally hits her. I apologize, but you new, cephalapodian form. Unfortunately, it would seem this 'Flux' thing has also wiped out memories, or at least screwed with them. I would appreciate a breif version of the relevant events, but I have a brief thing to attend to first She says, turning toward Muirkhom
Muirk, do you remember the necklace, the one with the symbol of Ibris embossed in gold upon it? You asked to see it, and then the flux must have hit or something. she says, extending a hand gently.
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"...Em, I've not a clue what yer referrin' ta. Not ta mention, I'm pretty sure the octopus said that this Ibris ain't doin' too well." He looks over the pile of gold, and back to Imazael. "It might be in there, but like I said to yer brother - Can ya explain that to me? Ya don't look like the man he claims ya are. Ya even related? - if yer gonna be carryin' gold, I need to keep an eye on ya. It hit Phraanz bad enough, so I ain't takin' chances with ya. A sick god'll only make it worse."
"Also, I still need somethin' to carry all'a this wi' first. Other option's keepin' ya here, and I still need ta get that gold off'a Phraanz." Muirkhom considered. Maybe he/she they (Dammit Phraanz, ya had to confuse me too!) could get the gold off of Phraanz. He'd have ta let her carry gold...but Phraanz had more, it probably hit him far worse than it would them, and he could keep an eye on Em while they had it. They could work somethin' out. "Tell ya what. Ya help me out wi' this and gettin' the rest off'a yer 'brother', and if I have it ya can keep the thing on ya till I find somethin' that won't hit ya wi' gold madness."
Didn't you pile the gold on such a bag, my Dwarven friend? Gul smiles a bit and winks at the Octopus. Maybe the others can help you dig?
LASaROS narrows his eyes at Gul and lets out a bubbly sigh. "Lady Ketodur." He arranges his arms out in a fan of impotence. "It would seem that holding together the immediate area and conjuring the hundreth part of my own sincere desires are the current extent of my divine influence. Domains and such are all good and well, but I would need a following to even consider that path. Until then, believe in the me that believes in you, and I think we'll get on just fine. Now, if you think you kind folks can find another Living Avatar Sepulture..."
Gul's father clears his throat. "Not ta horn in on your clear and promising courtship of my fine and steadfast daughter, but we do still need tha elemental... uh... your tentacularness."
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Papa! I did not mean to ignore you. She rushes to hug him. Do you suppose if we worship him, He'll drop the Condescension Domain?
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Nodding to himself that that should make things safer, he takes a torch out of one of the scones and investigates the small door that was on the other side of the room.
You've a deal master dwarf though I do maintain that this "Gold Maddness" is more yours than the worlds Imazael says, keeping the seond part solely within her mind.
She spares a glance around for any suitable weapons, something with heft, but does not spend over-long looking
she walks down the stairs, nose wrinkling slightly at the smell of death, before turning eastward, thinking briefly of snuffing the torches, but deciding that such action might endanger her less nocturnal allies. she speaks up, not loud, in fact below normal volume, but plenty loud enough for the other dhampir to hear Phraanz, I need to talk to you.
"The baskets are legitimate picnic baskets. Bound lids, ergonomic handles. A bag would have to get full to pack a punch, but these bastards are well-made, Ketodur-made.(tm)" The gnome gives his daighter's calf a firm, fatherly hug.
However, Phraanz is there with kind intentions to allow that Imazael would not have arrived at a point in time where the trap would be set off. Instead, the two of them converse by torchlight while they watch Phraanz dutifully reset the trap.
Imazael finds a breadbasket at hand while Phraanz has exchanged one of his puny hammers for a torch . This is good, because whenever Phraanz approaches the far door, something on the other side bangs and scratches against the door. The bar on the door rattles in its fastings, and a thin voice rises from the far side of the door. "Aaalllmmmsss..."
A few of the villagers follow suit with Krenin in expressing their devotion.
Lemongrass moves to follow Imazael downstairs. The other gnomes clear out of the double doors revealing a small chamber with doors in all four walls and torches mounted in each corner.
"Oh, hey, I don't suppose one of you could carry me. I promise not to be a burden..."
Imazael sniffs at the door, likely a petitioner, perhaps trapped, and cursed to undeath before saying (Hopefully loud enough to be heard) Who are you? What are you doing in here? she asks, glancing around the room for anything Phraanz may have missed (Something not particularly heavy, but valuable or elegant)
[dice=spout lore about the "almsbie"]2d6[/dice]
You remember two things about the room behind door: it's full of Muirkhom's gold-crazed, and the key to the tomb is inside.
The almsbie does not respond coherently. You think you hear another voice whisper precious, but that would be trademark infringement.
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Look at him. Says Gul with obvious disgust. A few parlor tricks and he's ready to fellate all eight tentacles at once.
The orc picks up her Papa for a ride and mounts Ginger for the same. The carnies must see you coming a mile away. She chastises the prostrated fool.
Gul urges Ginger down the stairs. We'll find an ellie Papa. Don't worry.
This long hall is begging for action The orc urges Ginger forward, looking to ram the door with their combined weight at top speed. All the while, She screams a bloody war cry.
Muirkhom's eyes go wide as he registers the laughter, and he looks at his hands. "No way..." He runs one hand along the arm of his shirt, checking whether it was just on his hands or if he was somehow the source. As he does this, he smiles. Thank ya, Midas. This'll be a moment ta cherish.
He takes a basket, distributes the bread it held after having enough not to sate his hunger, and fills the emptied container with as much gold as he can cram in.