Her healing touch makes him breathe easier. He sits for a moment, resting, waiting for Fiosa to come back and let him know if anyone of the others needed positive energy. From his perch, he observes the other actors, and anyone else he can see without having to move.
perception
sense motive
Was at: 10hp
Fiosa Healed 11hp
Rev cures:
Rev total HP: 32-4 for the flukes... 28 - 2 damage = 26 current hit points.
Rev gives Fiosa an appraising look. He would probably argue more, if he wasn't so injured. How did normal people survive this play? "Fine, one more, but then check with the others, if any of them are injured, I can burst positive energy before we go back on stage."With a nod and a smile, she lays a hand on his chest again, healing him more. Then goes off to check on Azhar and Gravlax. A little while later she comes back to report that since both were allowed to keep their armor they are uninjured.
After she has come back, he nods at Fiosa, and bids her to wait a moment. He concentrates on the power of his goddess, and she grants him the ability to seal the remaining wounds on his body. "Thank you." He says. Opens his eyes, turning his gaze to Fiosa. With a small smile, returns his holy symbol to her safe keeping. "And thank you." He adds softly to the Halfling.
Dentris places the "fluke" on his arm, closes his eyes and trembles and moans as it burrows into his flesh. "Oh, it has been so long! "
Perform sing:
Fort save dc17:
Heal check dc20:
Dentris voice rings out over the crowd, strong and true, though with a trembling tenor filled with the emotions the "flukes" wring from within him
Fort save dc17:
the pleasureovertakes him, he cannot continue, he extolls the virtues of the three young girls
"Ah! Sana, the youngest! your brilliance, your radiance, your youthful splendour. Second to none I say!
Ohhh, Sanja, you shall dance within my dreams forever and ever more
Sasha, , your fiery spirit enflames the passions so"
Heal check dc20:
"No. Dentris cuts out the fluke and crushes it as he draws it seemingly away from his neck. Dentris sighs, continues seemingly drained, "a hard choice , Larazod, but somehow your sweet countenance won out. I know not how." Dentris manages a glower which turns into a weak smile turned towards his master.
Tybain's reluctance is clear, but once all the rest of his comrades have successfully overcome the Flukes, duty straightens his spine.
"My turn, I suppose."
Tybain applies his fluke, and begins giggling uncomfortably. Metronomically. Not terribly believably.
"Ooooh! Aaaaah! I know not this feeling!"
He clutches at the Fluke, but of course, it is underneath his skin.
" Watch the virginal knight " Dentris does nod hide his mocking amusement.
Tybain grabs the flensing knife, pauses, writhes. "It is as if a thousand feathers assault my flesh." Tybain drops the knife, clutching at himself. "Especially my most tender parts." He turns to Dentris, imploring. "What strange pleasure is this?"
"Ha! And is one of the reasons you should follow the great instead of your dead gods memory, my dear Pal-o-dine." Dentris look, still mockingly amused, nearly turns to pity.
"Ah, Aroden's servants, so like sweet children they be.
Gozran 4/Ailyn
She clings to him, both her lips and her body. And the next time she moans into him, body tired but driven, there is only the sounds of the pleasure he is causing to run through her body. Her form convulsing around his, shaky.Both. At the exact moment probably more pain, but switching to mostly pleasure after.
Tybain snatches up the flensing knife, and probes for the Fluke.
Tybain rips loose the Fluke, and throws it to the stage at Haanderthan's feet.
"I am well," Tybain says, shaken nearly to his core, "though I may never be the same."
Thesing rises, kicking at the obsidian before him, shaking with rage. "Curse your persistence. All lies eventually reveal their ugly fangs. I shall draw them as venom from a wound." Snarling his lines with feeling as the curtains close and Delour picks up the intermission.
Thesing storms offstage, angrily whispering under his breath... clearly very in character.
The crimson-robed priest nods, a small smile playing on his face as he patiently waits for the next act.
Fiosa motions you all to the hidden nook behind the green room, channeling once before Rev can argue () and then look to each see if she should do so again.
Just before you are expected back on stage, Millech comes down from his catwalks. He motions the five who will be facing the trial of the beast near him and, with a defiant look to the man across the stage who planned for these trials, he casts acid resistance on all of you.
Fiosa motions you all to the hidden nook behind the green room, channeling once before Rev can argue and then look to each see if she should do so again.
Fiosa looks around at the very minor improvement that she accomplished. With an embarrassed flush she tries again. () Amaya hovers nearby with Azhar's wand waiting to see if anyone needs it.
The curtains open on a dark stage lit only line of lights, Thesing leading prisoners and what remains of the council (...Ilsandra) down to the 'dungeon'. As he walks before you, his voice carries over the theater. "Here follows the Trial in the Belly of the Beast. A great terror," his voice gleeful at the prospect of your deaths.
He motions, around him in the play, to the noble boxes watching in reality, "gifted to this court by a Duke of Hell, the Beast is a hideous thing." His voice happy, joyful, "Whose stomach is a nest of acid-spewing serpents. It shall swallow you whole," Thesing chuckles, happy with everything he says, "and wash clean in its acid.
Somewhere, high up in the catwalk, a man mutters to his monkey, "Theater in Westcrown blows."
Azhar does his best "Rock" impression with his eyebrow, turning to face the crowd.
Thesing laughs, turning to look at those to be tried. " you are innocent and speak no lies." His cheshire grin showing how likely he thinks that, "The Beast's belly shall leave you..."
Turns to look at Rev specifically, "Unscathed." Menace and taunt in the well trained voice.
And then in a true whisper, one that will not carry to the watching public, "Pity your fast-talking friend won't be with you."
Fiosa motions you all to the hidden nook behind the green room, channeling once before Rev can argue and then look to each see if she should do so again.Fiosa looks around at the very minor improvement that she accomplished. With an embarrassed flush she tries again. () Amaya hovers nearby with Azhar's wand waiting to see if anyone needs it.
Rev smiles at Fiosa's persistence. Doesn't argue.
Somewhere, high up in the catwalk, a man mutters to his monkey, "Theater in Westcrown blows."
Rev does not react to the mutterings he just happened to overhear. Not that he disagrees, mind you. But he stays in character.
Thesing laughs, turning to look at those to be tried. "If you are innocent and speak no lies." His cheshire grin showing how likely he thinks that, "The Beast's belly shall leave you..."Turns to look at Rev specifically, "Unscathed." Menace and taunt in the well trained voice.
And then in a true whisper, one that will not carry to the watching public, "Pity your fast-talking friend won't be with you."
Even when Thesing ganks Melilot's lines, Rev does not skip a beat.
And then in a true whisper, one that will not carry to the watching public, "Pity your fast-talking friend won't be with you."
Azhar's glare is probably not so out of character.
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From the street outside, Cassian can see Cecca Merro pacing back and forth occasionally looking at the door that leads outside and occasionally at the balcony door. It is clear that she doesn't know where Cassian will arrive... if he arrives, since she doesn't seem horribly confident if her child will come.
Yuuki smiles, "So your mother told you find something to believe in..." A pause, "What did your father teach you?"
Gozran 4/Ailyn
She clings to him, both her lips and her body. And the next time she moans into him, body tired but driven, there is only the sounds of the pleasure he is causing to run through her body. Her form convulsing around his, shaky.
Since he's not getting a clear signal, and he really wants to continue, he doesn't stop yet. He continues as he has been. But before he escalates, he asks, his voice hoarse with need because he has been holding back from completion for quite a while, "Ailyn... ...Ailyn, would you take more of me? Or... should I stop?"
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Yuuki smiles, "So your mother told you find something to believe in..." A pause, "What did your father teach you?"
Does Azhar get the sense that Yuuki is being facetious? Protective of her daughter because Azhar is in a high risk profession or something else?
Azhar keeps his tone and demeanor upbeat, "My mother is good and pure and possibly believes in people more than they believe in themselves. My father is more...balanced. He taught me to verify when possible the truths that others give, because they themselves may believe and yet still be wrong. They both taught me how to fight, and live off the land, within a city or without and to see a job through once started, like how your family has built up the Westcrown Glassworks from nothing at all to what it is today. And since I'm on the subject, do you feel you're getting in as many orders as you can fill for the glassworks? Is there too much work, not enough or is it just right?"
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Cecca starts slightly as Cassian raps on the window, she stalks over opening the door then backing off. Through the open door, "Sad world where a mother has to pay to see her son."
Ailyn's eyes open as Rev talks her her, only to flutter open and closed. Her voice ragged, worn, "Don't.... don't... don't stop." Her body convulsing around him, trying to draw him deeper, to keep him within her.
Amaya shoots her mother a look, which is ignored. A more pleading look to her father and Arata only chuckles very very quietly as Azhar turns the questioning back on his stubborn wife. Yuuki takes a few more bites of food, a more real smile slowly growing on her lips, "We are close to being just right for the room and equipment we have, but if there was a mean to increase the orders, we still could expand."
She rolls her eyes at her husband, "He's the best in Westcrown... Which means his work is valued."
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Amaya shoots her mother a look, which is ignored. A more pleading look to her father and Arata only chuckles very very quietly as Azhar turns the questioning back on his stubborn wife. Yuuki takes a few more bites of food, a more real smile slowly growing on her lips, "We are close to being just right for the room and equipment we have, but if there was a mean to increase the orders, we still could expand."
She rolls her eyes at her husband, "He's the best in Westcrown... Which means his work is valued."
Azhar continues to eat as well, then asks, "What is your market? Who are your main buyers?"
He pushes Ailyn further along her orgasm, holding back one last time. And then, when he is sure she is thoroughly high on bliss, he slowly pulls out even as her muscles quiver around his member, trying to keep him inside her, and places his shaft near her now wide and ready rear entrance. His mouth is upon hers, taking her sounds into him, his weight resting on her slightly but not uncomfortably so. His clean hand finds her nub, flicks and caresses it. Keeps her climaxing; his other hand withdraws very very carefully from her rear, and his shaft slides against her opened bud. He is thoroughly lubricated, and slipping inside her is pure pleasure. Even though he has widened her, his shaft is squeezed tightly by her virgin entrance. He moves in slowly, patiently, an inch at a time. Stopping frequently, letting her get used to him, continuing to pleasure her all the while. She feels him stretching her, the pressure is both amazingly wonderful, and just on this side of pain. Coupled with what he is doing to her nub, she should be enjoying this a great deal, even as it is so intensely amazing that it hurts. All the while, he whispers her name, Ailyn, into her mouth. Groaning with the feeling of her tightness all around him. It is only his self discipline which keeps him from thrusting in and out. He waits for her to be ready. To take more of him. IF she is, after what seems like an eternity to him, he has impaled her fully. He raises himself up to admire his handy work. Now he is truly despoiling the beautiful woman underneath him.
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"Primarily the local noble families and some of the other merchants." She shrugs, "Because of the cost of the glass and the wood needed to keep the kilns heated, the price point is restrictive for reaching a wider market." She smiles, "But Westcrown parties tend to the rambunctious and glass is fragile..." Her smile growing mercantile, "So we normally get orders for replacements."
Around that time, Amaya gets up, moves into the kitchen, and comes back with tea pot, offering it around the table.
It is slow going, her face infused with pleasure despite the small tears of pain hiding at the corner of her eyes. When he pull up to look down on his handiwork, Ailyn's shoulders are pressed hard into the mattress beneath her, her body arched to ease his entry.
Shivering, delirious, fingers balled into the sheets, flushed, absolutely beautiful. And absolutely his in this moment.
"I'm sure you think it is for the best that she is with you, but it will ruin her." She pauses, "Think about the life you live and then think about your sister. Does she really fit into that?"
Another pause, "I thought the two of you would realize how poor of an idea it was, that she'd be back..." Her voice bitter with that wrong assumption, "but this has really gone on long enough." Just the edge of plan in her voice.
He gets ready to hop down from the balcony, but stops. "At least you're thinking of her. Unless by 'ruin' you mean as a marriageable prospect."
He looks down at the garden. "Talk to her, not to me." And with that, he leaves. Once down, his voice carries back up to her.
"Oh, I'm fine. Thanks for asking."
Cassian will then go someplace to have some bad boy brooding time before putting on a false happy face for his return home.
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"Primarily the local noble families and some of the other merchants." She shrugs, "Because of the cost of the glass and the wood needed to keep the kilns heated, the price point is restrictive for reaching a wider market." She smiles, "But Westcrown parties tend to the rambunctious and glass is fragile..." Her smile growing mercantile, "So we normally get orders for replacements."
Around that time, Amaya gets up, moves into the kitchen, and comes back with tea pot, offering it around the table.
"Yes, please." he says in response to the tea. Azhar's eyes go soft as he looks up at Amaya and he mouths a silent "thank you." When/if she sits down, the side of his foot rubs against her leg.
"Have any of the noble or merchant families tried glass hot houses? or maybe flat bottomed boats with glass viewing areas?" he asks curiously.
Turns to look at Larazod specifically, "Unscathed." Menace and taunt in the well trained voice.
And then in a true whisper, one that will not carry to the watching public, "Pity your fast-talking friend won't be with you."
Tybain radiates agreement with Haanderthan. Of course Larazod will emerge unscathed.
The thoughts clicking through his expression a little too obviously, Tybain goes from agreement to astonishment -- horror, even.
"Madness!"
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"Sorry, mom. I'm not going to send Tarvi anywhere. She's a woman grown and she can do what she likes. If you want her back, you're going to have to do something you haven't tried yet." He pauses, searching his mother's face. "Treat her with some modicum of love and respect. You know, rather than a rung on some ladder you and dad want to climb."
He gets ready to hop down from the balcony, but stops. "At least you're thinking of her. Unless by 'ruin' you mean as a marriageable prospect."
"Of course I'm thinking of her." Her voice snaps back, "And our hope that she make a good match is for her. Do you know how hard it is to be a woman on your own in this damned country?" Slightly offended, "And I would have given your sister a chance to get over whatever huff she was going through... but there are rumors that the Drovenge's have moved in from the country home.." Her voice trailing off at his look.
He looks down at the garden. "Talk to her, not to me." And with that, he leaves. Once down, his voice carries back up to her.
"Oh, I'm fine. Thanks for asking."
And from the balcony a moment later, a only slightly chastised, "Of course you're fine. You've always been fine."
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It is Arata that answers the question. "There are a few with hot houses, not sure about the boats. When a panel is shattered... it depends on the family. Some are willing to go with lower cost options, some come to us."
Azhar smiles, "Do you think maybe some of those same nobles would be likely to pay top coin for fruit or flowers grown out of season...like maybe even the middle of winter? I wonder if a partnership with a good grower might make sense?" of course he's only hypothesizing here.
Tybain radiates agreement with Haanderthan. Of course Larazod will emerge unscathed.
1d20+14
The thoughts clicking through his expression a little too obviously, Tybain goes from agreement to astonishment -- horror, even.
"Madness!"
"Hold fast, my dear friend. Have faith in Asmodeus." Larazod says.
"Well then, you better learn to swim."
Gozran 4/Ailyn
It is slow going, her face infused with pleasure despite the small tears of pain hiding at the corner of her eyes. When he pull up to look down on his handiwork, Ailyn's shoulders are pressed hard into the mattress beneath her, her body arched to ease his entry.Shivering, delirious, fingers balled into the sheets, flushed, absolutely beautiful. And absolutely his in this moment.
"you... are... beautiful, my Ailyn. absolutely... gorgeous, stunning, ...amazing..." He whispers to her, still looking down at her, enjoying this position immensely, her tightness driving him mad with sensation. It's almost too much, after an entire night of lovemaking. Almost too intense for both of them. But he cannot stop now. In this moment, she is his, and he is taking her. All of her. His fingers continue to dance over her nub, bringing her pleasure, the thumb of the same hand slips past the engorged lips of her vulva, into her moist canal. He smiles as her inner muscles press against the thumb, her canal made tighter by the insistent shaft which has opened her delicate bud. His hips move, slowly at first, withdrawing his hard member until only the tip remains inside her, and then he again impales her upon his shaft. His moan is a low growl, reminding her of the restraint he is showing. The slow thrusts, build up speed. He intends to give her at least one more screaming orgasm before he loses control, looses all restraint, and gives into the building pressure. Neighbors be damned.
"Hold fast, my dear friend. Have faith in Asmodeus." Larazod says.
Tybain turns to Larazod. "But
"Well, when men say that this is how I died,
At least they'll add, 'twas by Larazod's side."
"Hold fast, my dear friend. Have faith in Asmodeus." Larazod says.Tybain turns to Larazod. "But
"Well then, you better learn to swim." He tells Tybain. Voice somewhere between amused and serious. Perhaps tinged with sarcasm. His acting flawless.
Thesing looks back at Antonio with a glare, "The next trial demands a great sacrifice." Then his flame blue eyes move to Calseinica, with quiet meance in his trained voice, "Ye, who speaks for the half-breed," anger layering in "the lone traitor on the council who speaks against august personage." His smile causes shivers in the spines of the weak willed, "You must brave this trial, and all that follow, alongside the accused." Sentencing the beautiful woman to death.
Ilsandra laughs, the sound a contrast to the dark turn the play has taken, happy, almost uplifting. With a cocky smile and a defiant look to the handsome blonde man, "" She moves next to Larazod, almost touching but not quite, "I stand at this tiefling’s side, or at his back, or him at mine, or perhaps I should bolster him up from below or allow him to do the same to me. You shall see how I attend his pleasure," looking Thesing directly in the eye, seeing the lie in the handsome man.
"For speaks the truth."
Snapping, hot anger boiling, Thesing replies, "Then burn with him."
Ilsandra smiles once at Thesing, savoring the minor victory over ther proud man for a moment before she turns to Larazod, pulling his lips down into a fierce, fiery kiss. In a quiet whisper that carries to the whole theater, "Know the gifts of Asmodeus, dear child. You have earned great boons by your devoted service, and I shall pay them all with interest." Her soft brown eyes looking into Larazod's yellow-gold ones.
There is a rumbling sound from offstage, "But soft, what terror approaches?" Pulling away from the taller tiefling, "Our pleasures must wait." Regret in the sultry tones.
As she finishes speaking THE BEAST enters. A vast serpent made of brass, iron, and with a green glass belly that sloshes with a vile smoking liquid, it's head lowered to the prisoners, ready to 'consume' them.
Once all five of the tormented have climbed into the belly, the serpent's head rears up, trapping them inside.
"Come, horror, I shall tear my way from your gizzard with the white-hot blade of my truth."
That same voice mutters, "I don't know art, but I'm pretty sure this isn't it."
Perform Act:
FIRST ROUND:
First round Reflex save:
Fort Save:
First round assist climb:
SECOND ROUND:
Reflex save:
Assist climb:
THIRD ROUND:
Reflex save:
Assist climb:
(OPTIONAL ROUNDS - if additional rounds are needed due to failed climb checks; can ignore if necessary:)
Reflex save:
Assist climb:
Reflex save:
Assist climb:
FOURTH+ ROUND:
Reflex save:
Climb check: (will make it with either assistance or a rope)
FIFTH+ ROUND:
Assist climb:
SIXTH+ ROUND:
Acrobatics check:
"Hardly perfect," he says, stepping forward, reaching an arm around her waist, and pulling her to him.
"But I think good enough," he leans in for the kiss, hungry.
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Arata considers, "Might be. Don't know any growers though." An eyebrow raised to see if it was just a suggestion or if Azhar has a plan in mind.
Meanwhile, sneakily, under the table, Amaya's foot is playing back with Azhar's.
Mathalen slides in from the door that leads to the front of house, makes her way through the backstage, looking at the people onstage, assessing injury with an unhappy look, then climbs up the ladder leading to the catwalk.
Quietly, "The younger two didn't care about the play. The older one made them shut up once he realized his daughter was in danger..." She looks at him with a raised eyebrow, "Did she really not give her old man a clue about how much danger she was going to be in?"
Shrugs, "The rest seems like family squabbling..." her dark eyes watching the blue-clad paladin, "...do you want that now or after the play?"
There is a brief moment when his hand touchs her waist when the thought to make this harder crosses her mind and is clear in her eyes. But then she smiles, a happy, pleased look that Gravlax has only seen when they are alone. A decision that her heart will race just as fast if she gives in.
A shiver goes through her as he pulls her in tight against him, leaning up just a little to met his lips. Hungry, wanting, her arms slipping around his waist. A teasing smile curving up her lips as she pulls away just a bit, "You seem to have recovered from your early twenties quite well." Her hands wandering just a bit, her heartbeat speeding up, easily felt through her chest, seen in the pulse in her neck.