The Legacy of Marianasu - DM Downrightamazed

Game Master downrightamazed

"Captain Merit, good to see you unscathed, Dolo and I finished the ritual many dragons came in and my companions battled them, Dolo and I slowed these with sleet and glittering dust as they approached, having no archers, I attempted and was able to hold them enthralled til the defenses were marshalled. Just when I believed I could hold them no longer, the forces appeared that as well as a caster who held them in place so that they could be disarmed."

"I myself still do not feel recovered from the ritual. As I have never been involved in large scale battles my report is likely lacking."

The two dragonriders begin heading back up to the citadel. Na-Calanon takes a look around with a sweep of his enormous head. "YES PROFESSOR, OF COURSE. TONIGHT THERE WAS TO BE A DINNER FOR THE FIVE OF YOU, ANYWAY. IT IS A PITY IT MUST COME ON THE HEELS OF SUCH EVENTS. SIR DAMIAN! RETURN WITH US TO THE CITADEL. THE WALL GUARD WILL BE MORE WATCHFUL OF APPROACH BY THE LAKE, AND NOT SOON FORGET YOUR ACTIONS THIS DAY." There is another cheer from the soldiers at the wall, and the giant gold dragon wheels around and heads into the city, towards the scorched earth of the courtyard around the citadel.

Damian waves to the archers, basking in their cheers and the unlikely glory earned in the day's battle. He lingers for a moment too long, Keythan hovering above the walls, as he thinks of himself as a hero rather than a simple solider.

For the first time in years, he forgets to pray in thanks for a victory.

After tearing himself away, he flies after Na-Calanon and his rumbling voice. He lands in the courtyard and secures his lance in the saddle. As usual, he performs his check of the griffon and saddle, making sure that he will be able to fly at a moment's notice. When Keythan eyes a nearby horse hungrily, Damian affectionately taps him on the beak to tell him that he will have to wait for dinner.

Once secured, Damian strips out of his armor with the assistance of one of the squires to get a good look at the bite on his shoulder. He asks the boy, "Squire, will you find me a healer or at least someone who can put bandages on this injury?"

Syl overhears the question by chance, or by fate? and responds quickly, moving with subtle grace in every fluid step. She adjusts her circlet, and straightens her hair after so much flying. She clears her throat beside the man, and lifts her hands.

"If you'll hold still, I may see what the Dawnmother has in store for you today!" she exclaims, a smile on her face.

Lay on Hands, targeting Damian. 1d6 ⇒ 6

"There! All better now! Thanks be to Sarenrae! I apologize if it's not enough, but it's what I can spare for the time being, sir knight."

She closes her eyes and smiles again, then cheerfully moves back over to Ansrithar without a moment's notice - it's almost as if she came over just to see to his need, and leave once it had been fulfilled - partially or otherwise.

Damian regards the elvish dragonrider with a thankful look. He flexes his somewhat healed shoulder, the bloody gash mostly closed. "I appreciate it." He offers her his hand. "We haven't formally met. I'm Sir Damian Lamorak, Knight Protector of the Order of the Silver Flame. I sincerely apologize for leaving you to fight against those blue dragons alone, but I received a divine vision instructing me to seek out and stop the red dragon." He lowers both his eyes and his voice. "I believed that I was going to die in the process. Only by Iomedae's grace did I survive with my life, not to mention my limbs."

She gently clasps his hand before she departs back, and decides to stay and be kind - since that's what she'd do anyway! She holds it very softly, almost as if her hand were fragile and needed great care.

"Then I am Sylsalitae of House Dwinghymnaear, and I'm from the far northern reaches - and blessed by Sarenrae herself! Do not fret, Sir Damian, for Ansrithar over there, who seems a bit tired and as wounded as you, has been with me for a very, very long time - and he ensures I stay alive as long as he does.

"As for your death, I would not have said it was a bad one, if you had to go! You would have fallen defending the city of your goddess! And against an elder red no less! Why, that's something to be praised! But alas, you did survive, which further shows your prowess - and lets us know fate has something else in store for you."

She points over to Ansrithar a moment. "Now, he's probably trying to sleep now, but you're more than welcome to greet yourself, should you wish to - I'll be beside him until Na-Calanon calls us to a meeting, or supper, or what have you. I'll also be tending to the wounded as best as I can here, though I fear I may not have enough for everyone. It was a pleasure to have met you, Sir Damian Lamorak!" And with that, she bows gracefully, and departs his company for the time being.

@Min and @Sir Damian: you re-position yourselves by Na-Calanon as the corpse of his enemy plummets into the earth, shattered and useless. The great gold's breathing is slightly labored.

@Syl and @Dolo: you two arrive in time to see this.

Na-Calanon addresses you all; "FRIENDS, YOU HONOR US WITH YOUR SKILLS, BUT THE DEFENSE OF THIS CITY SHOULD NOT HAVE FALLEN ON YOUR SHOULDERS. IZMIR OWES YOU MUCH. WE ALL OWE YOU MUCH."

Min and Lin escort Na-Calanon as best they can, following the wounded gold dragon and keeping their eyes on the move in case an enemy happens to appear. Min bows his head in respect to the Na-Calanon's praise, before turning back to watching around them, as Lin speaks in draconic to Na-Calanon.

"Un mybaiego wyhu poydrni yw onmy khuiedr yrai ziniira Un myean, drniedr anyon yzii onmy raydrniunrak eraty drniedr undr ziemy era niyrayhuity dry poi stechchity onbayra dry chiraty eunty. Ray niyehuty unmy ziyhudrni liyhui drniira tyiwiratyunrak drniunmy stundran eraty drniymyi ziniy tyziichch ziundrniunra."

[spoiler=Draconic]
"I speak for both of us great one when I say, that you owe us nothing and that it was an honored to be called upon to lend aid. No hoard is worth more then defending this city and those who dwell within."

They continue they're slow and stead flight to the courtyard below, once they get there Min works on getting a cleric or someone to patch up Lin's wounds. If he is unable to find someone capable he will use one of his cure potions in lieu of clerical healing.

"Also good captain if you could provide some quarters and perhaps a bath, my journey that was so arduous now seems to have come to a momentary end at least, also if you could find me ten javelins, eight pilum as well as four spears. Certainly Some things taken from those that marched upon this place should have some of those things readily avaiable."

@Belsarious: Captain Merit claps you on the shoulder and smiles. "No, friend, your report lacks not at all. And I believe I see on the horizon something that makes me smile; our riders returning home. All of them."

Sir Damian, Min, and Syl all return. Dolo and Na-Calanon lag a little bit behind.

The captain whistles for squires and pages. "BOYS! Help these riders! To your duty!" he stops one of the pages. "Belsarious, this is Gregory. He will lead you back to quarters, where you may certainly bathe and rest. He will also attend to your request for javelins and spears, and anything else you may need. You understand, Gregory?"

The boy nods solemnly.

"I do hope you will do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight, Belsarious? At 6:00? The other four will hopefully be there as well, and we can speak more as a group on the matter of just what happened here today."

@Min, @Syl, and @Sir Damian: As you land, you see Captain Merit speaking with Belsarious. He leaves a page with the wood elf, then approaches the three of you. Pages and squires rush forward past him to assist you with taking reins, cleaning tack, whatever may be necessary. The clerics who had earlier stood ready to defend the citadel against the company of enemy troops now come forward to assist with healing. They are unfortunately only six in number, but appear decently well-equipped to help.

Mass long-term care Heal checks on the three of you and your mounts:
1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20 - Good enough!
These clerics will offer a casting of Cure Moderate and a casting of Cure Light (one of each) for you to distribute as you wish. In other words, you can use both, your mount can have both, or whatever. Your call. Roll your own HP recovery. Light is at 1d8+2, Moderate is at 2d8+4.

The Captain stands where the three of you can hear, and says "Friends! Champions! Izmir is grateful for the defense you have provided her with on this day. I thank you, we all thank you." He bows formally. "Unfortunately, in these times of war, the reward for victory is often to be asked to fight again, and I fear that is what I must ask of all of you. Will you and your noble mounts join me at 6:00 here, on the courtyard, for dinner? We will dine on the field of battle as victors should, and we will talk more about what happened here, and what must come next. Until then, pages will take you to quarters, and you may move freely where you wish. Inform your page if you have any requests."

You all have a few hours to rest/bathe/meditate/explore, as you wish.

@Sir Damian:

After addressing all of you, Captain Merit remains in the courtyard, awaiting Na-Calanon and Professor Luckbender.

Damian refuses the magical treatment. With Sylsalitae jump-starting the healing process, there is no pressing need for him to receive healing that could help save someone else. With his page's help, he gets his shoulder bandaged up, carefully wrapping it to give the skin time to heal.

He walks with the young man to his quarters, talking to him as he does. "Well, it's good to meet you. I'm Damian."

HP totals: Min 32/44, Lindórievórea 47/63, after healing~

Min: Cure Light Wounds 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
Lin: Cure Moderate Wounds 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (6, 4) + 4 = 14

Min bows respectfully to Captain Merit words and greets the approaching clerics with the same respectful nod. He haves them give Lin the better of the two cures and takes whatever remains to help stop his own bleeding. "Thank you, friend" As the priest departs Min was about to speak to Captain Merit but saw him conversing with the Paladin. Out of respect, Min left them to talk privately and checked over Lin for any other wounds he needed to address.

She of course chuckled, as always, at his overly attentive care. After a few moments of him looking her over, she pushes him back playfully with one powerful limb, getting a startled grunt from Min. She rumbles quietly, as she laughs, before playfully chiding him.

"I am not going to break so easily Min, I am not made of glass~ With their healing I am merely weakened now. With food and some rest I will be alright, do what you want I will rest my head awhile in our room."

Min chuckles back at his comrade and tries to give her a playful push back, which only makes her laugh louder when she doesn't budge. As she slowly lifts off into the air Min stands there smiling until she's gone, then he turns back to the courtyard before him. He's still carrying most of his weapons, minus his lance, and moves to one of the great statue of the citadel.

He approaches the one Syl had been standing at earlier, he was familiar with the Dawnbringer but sadly he wasn't as devout as he should be. He never wasted prayer unless it was important and after the carnage that was caused today. He knew it was time to pay his respect and pray for those who were less fortunate then him today. He winces, as his wounded side screams in protest, when he kneels before the statue of Sarenrae. He sits there for a time, praying for those who truly needed the support of the divine this day or at least a helping hand in the days to come.

"I have no other appointments this evening and will attend your event till then I hope tha bath will remove this sickness I have had since the high ritual."

"Gregory, is it? Show the way and then gather some things for me while I rest."

After the bath and packing supplies I will commune with my familiar and stock the things Gregory collects for me, if I still feel ill I will seek a healer...

Damian refuses the magical treatment. With Sylsalitae jump-starting the healing process, there is no pressing need for him to receive healing that could help save someone else. With his page's help, he gets his shoulder bandaged up, carefully wrapping it to give the skin time to heal.

He walks with the young man to his quarters, talking to him as he does. "Well, it's good to meet you. I'm Damian."

The boy walking at your side cannot be more than 12. He is formally caparisoned as a Page of the Citadel; black boots of good leather come up to his knees and have his grey pants of rough cloth tucked in. His belt is red leather with a buckle shaped like a shield. His shirt is also grey, a button-up with reinforced sleeves and two chevrons stiched over the left bicep. Over all this are cleric-like raiments, a sleeveless silver robe that is open in front, and which bears the crest of the Inheritor on the back. His brown hair is cut very short. His knuckles are dry and skinned, like he hit his hands on something, though they do appear to be healing, and when he looks up you can see there is a cut under his right eye. He does not smile.

"I am Brook, sir, and I will assist you with precision and alacrity."

Min, sadly, it's a statue of Iomedae in one of her kinder forms that I kneeled at - substitute for Sarenrae in some forms, if you ask me!

Syl kindly accepts the clerical aid, allowing the priests to work their magic on mending Ansrithar. She oversees the whole ordeal, and ensures that they don't go touching him anywhere he didn't approve of.

3d8 + 6 ⇒ (1, 7, 3) + 6 = 17

After this, she smiles, and listens intently to this Captain's speech, and nods firmly - there was no need to speak up, other than to maybe suggest something - and then, notes the page who approaches her. She kneels down to his height, and if his head is free of obstruction, will ruffle it up with her hand.

"And what have your parents blessed you with for a name, dear? If possible, I'll need you to find me some kind of shrine to Sarenrae in this town, else I'll have to make do with something else. Any suggestions?"

Diplomacy 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25

Damian smiles at the young boy. "I appreciate it. You look like you also just finished fighting a dragon. Do you mind if I inquire as to what happened?"

"I have no other appointments this evening and will attend your event till then I hope tha bath will remove this sickness I have had since the high ritual."

"Gregory, is it? Show the way and then gather some things for me while I rest."

After the bath and packing supplies I will commune with my familiar and stock the things Gregory collects for me, if I still feel ill I will seek a healer...

Gregory prepares a bath for you, including some minerals and herbs that help you recover. You no longer have the Shaken condition. In fact, you now have a +2 Euphoria bonus to all d20 rolls because... As you sit in the hot water, the strange fizzing of reagents helping clear your mind, you realize that a shadowy threat, a nightshade lurker that had been in your mind and spirit these last weeks, has been utterly lifted. You didn't even realize how heavy a burden it had become until now, now that it is absent. It is a wonderful feeling.

Diplomacy 1d20+10

Damian smiles at the young boy. "I appreciate it. You look like you also just finished fighting a dragon. Do you mind if I inquire as to what happened?"

Not looking up, Brook answers; "Some of the squiers, the older boys, they say I have a girl's name, that I will turn into a girl when I turn 16 and the Paladine will make me leave the city. They say I'll never be a squier. I...it is not right for me to fight over such things. The Inheritor grant me discipline." He pauses and looks at his hands, then up at you. "...a dragon?"

@Min: Captain Merit stands at the edge of the courtyard, awaiting the Professor and the great gold dragon. It'll be a minute or two, you'd guess, before they arrive.

He's clear for you to speak to, if you still needed an audience.

"And what have your parents blessed you with for a name, dear? If possible, I'll need you to find me some kind of shrine to Sarenrae in this town, else I'll have to make do with something else. Any suggestions?"

The boy, perhaps thirteen and dressed like the other pages only with three chevrons on his sleeve, bows. His hair is straw-colored and he has a band of freckles under his startled, cornflower-blue eyes. "My name is Isaac, great lady. There is the Hall of Light in the university district. It is not far, and it has shrines to all the gods, set up in different rooms so other worshipers may renew their faith while staying as guests. The...uh..." he seems to be trying to remember something. "...the Dawnflower is known to The Inheritor, and her servants are blessed allies and friends." This last sounds like a prepared bit he is in the process of memorizing.

Damian feels sympathy for the boy, being of a "lesser" order than the paladine. The cruelty and injustice of children knows no bounds. Evil dragons are evil by nature, something he understands, but the choice to be sadistic and cruel is something he simply doesn't fathom. He takes his shield off his back and hands it to Brook. "I can assure you that they are wrong when they say that you will never be a squire. If your parents and Captain Merit grant permission, I would like you to be my squire." He takes his belt off, scabbard and sword attached. "This is my sword and shield, blessed by Iomedae. Can I trust you to clean them of the dragon's blood and keep them safe?" He offers the belt to the boy.

She smiles at the boy, and gives him a wink - then offers her hand.

"Why don't you do me a favor and escort me across the town? I'd love to see this Hall of Light - I'd particularly enjoy that.

"And Ansrithar! Get some rest! We'll probably be leaving tonight or in the morning, depending on circumstance - you have a long day ahead of you, as do we all!"

The white dragon grumbles and begins to get some sleep.

His HP is now 48/60. Sufficient for now.

@Sir Damian: Brook struggles a little under the weight and sheer bulk of all that steel, but gets it wrangled. He looks in wonderment at your sword, its divine glow currently hidden under the scabbard. "I...Sir, I...if..." He starts out stammeringly. He pauses, then his mouth becomes a determined, thin line. "Yes Sir! I will do this! Your steel shall shine and sing!" He starts to leave, then remembers himself and comes back. "Can...can I be of further assistance to you, Sir?"

Damian smiles at him. "No, I think I can handle getting myself cleaned up and presentable for dinner. I was a squire once too, you know."

@Syl: Isaac looks at your hand for a moment, and you can't tell if he's enraptured or terrified or both. Then, slowly, cautiously, he takes it, and begins leading you out of the courtyard.

"As I said, it is not far, and is one of our most popular places in the city. Guests are always going there, though now the war keeps most people away...I...uh..." He looks back over his shoulder a couple times as the two of you walk away, seeming distracted.

Damian smiles at him. "No, I think I can handle getting myself cleaned up and presentable for dinner. I was a squire once too, you know."

Brook's eyes are big as saucers as he looks from you, to the sword, and back. He nods, then scrambles off to the junior barracks. "YES SIR! THANK YOU SIR!" He calls as his skinny little legs take him careening down the hall.

The quarters you are in are open and airy, but quite spartan; possessed of only the basics one would need for sleep and cleanliness. Everything is white or silver or shades thereof, with occasional crimson accents.

My bad apparently the thread wasn't completely loaded when I started typing... lol, Nah Min didn't have anything of major importance to say, so he just kept moving ;)

Min finishes up his prayers before the statue of Sarenrae and survey's the courtyard before addressing the page following quietly behind him. "My apologies my young friend, my name is Min Bein'Meleth Rámalóce. We shall talk as we walk back to my quarters, I am much more tired then I first believed. If you have questions I will gladly answer them, after I know your name that is." Min chuckles at his tired rambling and allow's the page to guide him back to his quarters.

Dolo flies on Glorfindel's back along side Na-Calanon, en route to the Citadel. He exchanges banter with the gold dragon but his mind is still piecing together the events since his departure from the library this morning. His keen intellect pores through each instance from the ritual to the battle. He formulates his hypothesis and quickly catalogs questions that will either support or disprove his conclusions.

My bad apparently the thread wasn't completely loaded when I started typing... lol, Nah Min didn't have anything of major importance to say, so he just kept moving ;)

Min finishes up his prayers before the statue of Sarenrae and survey's the courtyard before addressing the page following quietly behind him. "My apologies my young friend, my name is Min Bein'Meleth Rámalóce. We shall talk as we walk back to my quarters, I am much more tired then I first believed. If you have questions I will gladly answer them, after I know your name that is." Min chuckles at his tired rambling and allow's the page to guide him back to his quarters.

"My name is Aaron, great lord, and it is an honor to serve a dragonrider. I can lead you to your quarters easily enough, is there any other service you require? Or your mou-- er, dragon? You...you don't call them mounts, do you lord?"

Dolo flies on Glorfindel's back along side Na-Calanon, en route to the Citadel. He exchanges banter with the gold dragon but his mind is still piecing together the events since his departure from the library this morning. His keen intellect pores through each instance from the ritual to the battle. He formulates his hypothesis and quickly catalogs questions that will either support or disprove his conclusions.

Captain Korius Merit is waiting for you as you land. "Professor! I am glad you are safe! Will you walk with me? I believe there is much we can discuss..."

Humbled by the pages words, Min gives him a broad smile as he responds energetically, as they walk back to his quarters. "Well met Aaron and just so you know I am simply, Min, Lord of nothing more then where I lay my head at night. But to answer your question, personally I wouldn't call her a 'mount', Lin would probably dunk me in a lake if I referred to her that way." He chuckles at the pages reaction to his statement before continuing. "Other then that my friend the only thing I will require is a bucket of water for Lin and easy access to a bath for myself, point me in the direction of those and in return I can promise you some lessons on what its like to fly on a true dragon. Lin would be thrilled to take you, at least once she is rested and a little less sore."

Having finished his bath and re-stocking, with the dinner hour approaching continues into the general area of the feast...

DM

@Min: Aaron looks up at you with wide eyes. "The Dragonriders of the Citadel say it is a great privelege to Ride. They say only very few ever may, or shall. I c...could I really? You would let me?" He is leading you back to quarters a little ways from the courtyard. You can see you will still be close to Lin as they have quarters for dragons as well.

@Syl: Could I get a perception check, please?

As Isaac leads you through the city, you note that despite the cloud of war that hangs over the east, black and malignant, towering like a thunderhead and fed by the fires on the battleplain, all the marble and glass is amazingly clean, and there is rather a lot of it in this place; greengrocers, traders, lawyers, all have buildings clad in finely worked quarry-stone and marble and all buildings are well-fenestrated with the highest quality glass.

Isaac turns you down a main street and at the end is a massive cathedral of some sort. The few people that are on the street watch as you walk by.

"That is the Hall of Light" says Isaac. He pauses. "Where are you...I mean, do all...er, do all elves look like you? I've only ever seen one or two women, and you're the first elf I've ever met and it's just...you dress so...you look...I mean..." he trails off, looking embarrassed.

Perception Check 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26

Syl continues to give the boy kind smiles and a warm aura, keeping most to herself. She looks around at all the marvelous architecture, and notes how clean the town is for something so driven into war. It's very contrasting, and it actually, visibly, bothers her when she realizes that it makes little sense to her.

She notes the large cathedral, and as he points it out, she kneels beside him and winks lightly.

"I'm from a far, northern place that I cannot tell you of, little one. However, what I can tell you is that not all of us are so generous and honest; some of us cling to traditions like your people here worship Iomedae, and I mean that in no offense at all.

"I'm mostly dressed like this now because of the days to come, and because there's so much still to do to preserve your home here. I fight on not only their behalf, but yours and my own people's too - do you realize that if this town were to fall, others would follow in its wake? It is my sworn duty as a knight of the good virtues we know to stand in its way, and further the cause of the Dawnmother herself while I'm at it.

"I hope that answers you well, Isaac? You've been a dear, and I need you to do something for me now. I need to know where my room is, and I need it prepared for a bath before dinner. Can you do this for me? I shouldn't be more than half an hour here."

She smiles to him again, pats him on the head, and carries herself to the cathedral, and brings with her a prayer forming in her mind.

@Syl: You notice that while there are no women anywhere, there are many children, and some are girls. The oldest girl you see is maybe 13. You also notice some of the men watching you and Isaac as you go by. There is no malice in their eyes, they seem friendly, but they also seem strangely distant. A couple might be a bit disapproving.

Isaac looks at you a moment then executes a boyish imitation of the Paladine's salute you saw earlier. "Yes, my lady. It shall be ready for you." He turns and starts back to the quarters as you head to the Hall of Light.

The Hall is much as Isaac described; a large central chamber has other large chambers attached, each one is entered via a large doorway; 15'x15' if it's an inch. In each doorway are powerful double doors, built of marble, and inlaid with metals or stones sacred to each god worshipped within. You quickly note there are no altars to Lamashtu, or Zon-Kuthon or (of course) Rovagug, or other evil or chaotic deities.

There is also no altar to Calistria.

The building is made entirely of marble, and is a very impressive structure. Each of the worship "rooms" is appointed with whatever acoutrements are necessary (offerings, sacred materials) for each believer to complete their rites.

Waiting for the professor to return, here. :-)

@Sir Damian: in the meantime, anything else you were going to do before meeting with Captain Merit?

@Min: Aaron looks up at you with wide eyes. "The Dragonriders of the Citadel say it is a great privelege to Ride. They say only very few ever may, or shall. I c...could I really? You would let me?" He is leading you back to quarters a little ways from the courtyard. You can see you will still be close to Lin as they have quarters for dragons as well.

Min smiles at Aarons response but takes note at the disciplines they try and instill in these young men. "I am not going to question the words of the dragonrider's of the Citadel Aaron, but yes you can ride with Lin and I once she is fit again. That is a gift we have no problem in sharing with you." Min continues to smile as they reach his quarters.

After he secures the water for Lin and a shower for himself he dismisses the young page telling him to return in a couple hours and to meet him down in the the dragon's quarter where Min and Lin will await him.

Sir Damian has been outside Captain Merit's quarters for 15 minutes. Having cleaned his wound, himself, and his armor, he felt much better than right after the battle. He had received his sword and shield from his new squire, to whom he had spoken to at length about what he would have to do if he wanted to advance from a squire to a knight. Brook had excitedly accepted the advice. It was nice to be a mentor figure to the boy, much as Petrov had been for him. His conversation with the boy has Damian longing for the day when he has done enough to ensure the kingdom's safety that the gods will grant him leave to begin his own family.

As soon as the bell tolls 5:30, Damian knocks on Captain Merit's door. He assumes a position of attention, as any good soldier should when talking to one who is both a superior officer and a legend.

@Sir Damian: Captain Merit's page, Alex, greets you at the door and lets you in. The Captain's quarters are spartan as any you've seen here, though they are divided into separate rooms. In addition to sleeping and bathing areas, there is an exercise chamber and an office, with a desk and bookshelves, and a few significant holy items.

He greets you warmly. "Sir Damian. Come in, please. Have a seat." Alex pulls a chair out for you, then leaves the room, closing the door behind him. "Sir Damian, some of what I'm about to say will be talked of at dinner tonight, but some will not. I know I can trust you to keep this conversation in utmost confidence.

Dolo does his best to detach himself from Na-Caladon. With his insatiable curiosity, it is hard not to patter on about this or that when the being you are conversing with has seen many wondrous things in his extensive lifetime.

"Strange things are afoot, Prefect Na-Caladon. I feel not only this city but this world is in danger if my suspicions are confirmed. We must discuss this urgent matter post haste!"

"Now where did Captain Merit go?" Dolo looks around, not realiizing he has been prattling on for many minutes.

Sorry, didn't realize you were waiting for me to respond. ;(

Remembering dinner was to be at six heads towards the kitchens for a sneak preview of the feast!

Dolo does his best to detach himself from Na-Caladon. With his insatiable curiosity, it is hard not to patter on about this or that when the being you are conversing with has seen many wondrous things in his extensive lifetime.

"Strange things are afoot, Prefect Na-Caladon. I feel not only this city but this world is in danger if my suspicions are confirmed. We must discuss this urgent matter post haste!"

"Now where did Captain Merit go?" Dolo looks around, not realiizing he has been prattling on for many minutes.

Sorry, didn't realize you were waiting for me to respond. ;(

No worries! I should have made it clear, probably. :-) Moving right along, I'll do your conversation with Captain Merit concurrent with Sir Damian's, even though they happened at different times.

@Dolo: After landing, Captain Merit comes up to you, smiling broadly. "Professor! I am so happy to see you in one piece. I trust the Ritual went well?! Please, accompany me to my quarters, there are things we must talk about." The captain and Na-Calanon look at each other for a moment, probably communicating telepathically, then several clerics descend on the great old gold to begin healing his many injuries.

Syl calmly reassesses her situation, and takes a good, long walk in the place - but doesn't really get too far. She's too busy observing to really gather anything useful beyond how disturbed she is by this scene. She seems hesitant to even walk into the room designated to Sarenrae.

She musters up her mental courage, and puts her faith before her. As she moves towards the pedestal, she does as she had done earlier, but seeks to do something far more influential. She undoes her sash, the one sacred to her faith, and coils it about the statue's waist, tying it firmly to keep it snug. She smiles at her handiwork again, and then goes to pray on her knees, eyes closing.

Oh goddess. The amount of 'law' here is almost suffocating. I cannot wait to leave this city, which favors men over women. I must do something eventually to help these poor souls out - they know not of the evils they do in this discrimination. Beyond that, I ask you to have mercy on the souls I forced into submission before our might. I want them to have a second chance in life, as most would pray for themselves.

I also wish to pray for the one named Arandur - I wish his wisdom to seek beyond his arrogance, so it will not cost him one day. I want my blessings and yours to help in this task, and so in this I pray. May the Sun always shine great, oh Dawnmother.

@Syl: Give me a Faith check, please. D20+CHA bonus

1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4 Yay faith! Or the lack of it.