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You are certain that you can find the way to the Path of Spirits based on obscure clues in ancient religious texts. Now that you know it is close to here, there are landmarks you can look for.
Starting in early Calistril, whenever the weather is warm enough, Zaiobe and Liothonae have flying practice, Zaiobe keeping her own form and Liothonae taking that of a bird.
They can be seen swooping overhead on such days practicing the finer points of flight - hovering, banking, sharp turns, quick ascent, and also, possibly just for fun, barrel rolls, Immelman turns, and loop-de-loops.
"Well, I didn't say that." Lio blushes.
"No, no," Shalelu says. "You're quite right. We should turn our minds beyond pleasures of the body. Perhaps I shall take up macrame instead."
Ameiko throws the same loofah at Shalelu that Koya threw at Ameiko.
Barely able to stand, knees weak, entire body still humming with the aftereffects of orgasm, Lio's lips, at once both shy and eager, taste yours. You feel his hardness pressed against you, and his hips unconsciously move.
Her hands firm on your ass, she starts backing up until she is up against a wall, taking you along with her.
"F*&! me," she says when her backside hits the solid wood. "Hard."
** spoiler omitted **
Rhost has no extrasensory abilities, but starts scanning the distant peaks.
After a few moments of deep thought, Liothonae says that she should be able to find the way to the Path of Spirits based on obscure clues in certain ancient religious texts she copied as a scribe years ago. Now that she knows that the place is close to where you are, there are landmarks she can look for.
"Then let's go," Skygni growls, "Before our time runs out."
"Right," Sandru agrees. "Everyone get ready," he says, swinging himself up into the driver's position. "This could be a bumpy ride."
DATES: Gozran 8 – Gozran 11
LOCATION: Foothills of the Wall of Heaven
SPECIAL ENCOUNTERS:
WEATHER: Blizzard
WIND: Hurricane (81 mph)
DAY/NIGHT CYCLE: Normal
AVERAGE DAYTIME TEMPERATURE: -80 degrees Fahrenheit / -62.2 degrees Celsius
AVERAGE NIGHTTIME TEMPERATURE: -94 degrees Fahrenheit / -70 degrees Celsius
DISTANCE TRAVELED: 48 miles
TOTAL DISTANCE FROM SANDPOINT: 5347 miles
TOTAL TIME SINCE LEAVING SANDPOINT: 221 days
The temperature drops, and drops. The wind picks up until sound-based perception is completely impossible; all you can hear is the howling of the storm. The horses and rhinos and musk oxen strain against the tempest, even these large creatures now needing to test their strength in order to move at all along the ground.
And this is merely the edge of the storm. What is creeping up behind you is far worse. It sounds like the end of the world.
Each day, you struggle and outpace the Morozko. Each night, it continues to expand while you sleep, catching up once again. Liothonae keeps an ever-watchful eye out for the landmarks that indicate the location of the entrance to the Path of Spirits.
The landmarks are spotted - a particular tree, an oddly shaped rock. Despite being in the fringes of the storm, you are able to move at full speed, and outpace the center of the Morozko.
A day much like the previous; steady progress, with frequent sightings of the landmarks mentioned in the ancient texts giving you hope.
On the third day of searching, too many landmarks have changed with the passage of years or been buried in the snows. You manage to make no further progress, and the Hungry Storm moves faster today, threatening to overtake you.
The Caravan is on the verge of losing hope, but comfort may be found in Koya's predictions of success:
And Morale is maintained.
You find the track again, and the Caravan rumbles into the mountains.
Finally, at the end of the fourth grueling day, which you spent keeping just ahead of the Morozko, you see the entrance to the Path of Spirits and the Uqtaal Necropolis – the Gates of Desna.
Two statues of the goddess flank the entrance to the necropolis between two arms of a rugged peak. One statue is broken off at the pedestal, but opposite it still stands a primitively carved statue of a woman with butterfly’s wings, eternally facing north. A roughly carved eight-pointed star is graven into her forehead.
A quarter mile beyond, a cave mouth yawns at the head of the valley, with a carved stone lintel and doorposts etched with faded stars.
Racing against the storm, you hurry the Wagons into the vast tunnel. As you cross the lintel, the sounds of the wind carries a scream:
I WILL FIND YOU
I WILL KILL YOU
You venture into the depths of the tunnel until the sounds of the raging winds finally fade, and then, save for a few guards, collapse into an exhausted sleep.
Racing against the storm, you hurry the Wagons into the vast tunnel. As you cross the lintel, the sounds of the wind carries a scream:
I WILL FIND YOU
I WILL KILL YOU
Leaning against Alaric, an exhausted Mel pulls Zaiobe into a hug, "Love you, Z, but your half-sister is a b&~@*. She really must take after her mother."
Leaning against Alaric, an exhausted Mel pulls Zaiobe into a hug, "Love you, Z, but your half-sister is a b@*%~. She really must take after her mother."
Zaiobe collapses into the embrace.
<... particularly ever since she threatened to cut up your lady bits; those are one of my two favorite sets of lady bits, after all.>
"Meep!" Lio nearly jumps. "Hey... you... you kicked me." She looks up at Mel, "Not you." She looks at Mel's little belly. "You." You can almost see her pointing, mentally.
Then she smiles. "You kicked me!" She hugs Mel again.
Mel returns the hug, just a little tighter than before, and when Lio releases her Mel's hand goes to the exact spot that Milena had decided was a good place to stretch out. "She's been more insistent in having attention paid to her since Dead Man's Dome." Mel smiles, "But you are the first one other than me that she's kicked."
After a few moments of blissful inward thought, Mel's mind returns to the earlier conversation. With a blush, "I can play you Z's song for your wedding. And I'd be happy to play everything else." Considering, "Any other songs that you or Shae wants, let me know... And otherwise, I'll talk with Ameiko in order to have a good mix of music for you both, okay?"
Leaning against Alaric, an exhausted Mel pulls Zaiobe into a hug, "Love you, Z, but your half-sister is a b@*%~. She really must take after her mother."
Zaiobe collapses into the embrace.
Alaric, emphatically: "Same here!"
The hot pool already providing warmth and wetness, she focuses on pressure and suction to lavish attention on him. The bubbles of her breath leaving as she teasing playing along the length as they float to the top of the pool.
Just over a minute into her playing, Zaiobe feels a touch on her thigh.
Hrunndalf watches the unequal fight between Rhost, Ameiko, and Melinda with mixed feelings, wincing a bit each time one of his friends hurts another, but drawn into the excitement of the battle nevertheless.
"Well fought," he says to all of them while casting a few healing spells to ease the pain. "But I think Rhost needs a break after this. Next time you feel like beating someone up, I'll volunteer. I'll give you the choice of unarmored... or unarmed." He brings forth a sap from his pack and casually twirls it around one hand, grinning wolfishly.
Mel's eyes narrow, her movements still quick from the earlier application of spells. "You can keep the armor and the sand bag. Just no stomach shots." She looks over at Ameiko, "Do you want to rest this one out... While I take out the old man?" She spits out an arcane word as she waits for an answer.
Mel's eyes narrow, her movements still quick from the earlier application of spells. "You can keep the armor and the sand bag. Just no stomach shots." She looks over at Ameiko, "Do you want to rest this one out... While I take out the old man?" She spits out an arcane word as she waits for an answer.
"All right," Ameiko says, ambling over to where Kalimac has been watching the proceedings. "I'll take notes."
Melinda smiles at Zaiobe, nods. She moves to straddle Alaric for a moment, looking into his sea-green eyes. Then, after a series of deep breaths, she kisses her way down his body, starting at his lips and ending at his lower head.
The hot pool already providing warmth and wetness, she focuses on pressure and suction to lavish attention on him. The bubbles of her breath leaving as she teasing playing along the length as they float to the top of the pool.
Just over a minute into her playing, Zaiobe feels a touch on her thigh.
Zaiobe has not been idle while Melinda lavishes her attentions upon Alaric. Her hands brush along Melinda's back, her sides, and reach around to tease her breasts. She places soft kisses on the back of Melinda's neck.
When she is tapped in, she switches places with Melinda, smiles at Alaric, takes a deep breath, and ducks her head down.
Submerged, she encircles the head of him with her mouth, and places her hands on the sides of his hips to keep herself from floating away. Pulling herself forward, she takes the length of him into her mouth and throat, then moves herself slowly back and forth, her lips and tongue siding over sensitive flesh.
This continues until she finally slides all the way off, comes up out of the water with a gasp, and reaches to give Melinda a touch.
"All right," Ameiko says, ambling over to where Kalimac has been watching the proceedings. "I'll take notes."
Mel smiles over Kalimac, "Any last minute advice?"
As she waits, another arcane words, and more Melindas appear. They all look over at Hrunndalf, "Well, gamall maður, what'cha waitin' for?"
Mel's AC is currently 24, touch 14, ff 20
For the images, I normally suggest a dice roll of the number of images plus 1 (so 1d8 at the moment), and a 1 on the dice means you hit Mel. If you miss her AC by 5 or less (so normally a 19-23) then you automatically take out one of the images. If you take out an image, Hrunndalf will take 2d6 points of electrical damage (no save). Let me know if any of that wasn't clear.
DATES: Gozran 12 – Gozran 14
LOCATION: The Path of Spirits
SPECIAL ENCOUNTERS:
WEATHER: N/A
WIND: N/A
DAY/NIGHT CYCLE: Underground
AVERAGE TEMPERATURE: 30 degrees Fahrenheit / -1.1 degrees Celsius
DISTANCE TRAVELED: 48 miles
TOTAL DISTANCE FROM SANDPOINT: 5395 miles
TOTAL TIME SINCE LEAVING SANDPOINT: 224 days
Having little other choice, you travel onward.
The Path of Spirits goes deep within the earth. The ancient nomads who built it clearly delved only when necessary, following natural faults, rifts, and cave systems whenever they could. The tunnel has many steep slopes and narrow passages that are difficult for large wagons to traverse, slowing you down. Sometimes the tunnel splits, and an incorrect guess leads you to a dead end, forcing you to backtrack.
Once again you are plunged into darkness, the tunnels lit only by your spells. Those of you who know something about cavern exploration note that it is unusually cold here, although far better than the nightmare outside – the temperate stays steadily at a hair below freezing.
On the second day of travel in the caverns, you come upon a cairn of stones and skulls. The skulls are all embedded in the cairn’s northward face and are painted with red demonic faces.
Mel K:religion
"Keep an eye out for undead," Alaric says.
For his part, he enjoys the attention, stroking the hair of whoever is underwater, watching Mel and Zaiobe caress each other, and generally lose the ability to have a single coherent thought.
Zaiobe taking him in deeply brings a gasp. "Careful. Almost there."
<What you want.> Is the thought as her lips leave his body. Then as she trails kisses up, so that she can press him close, "What you feel."
Her lips met his with the need and desire she has for him clear in the action. Her tongue darting into his mouth for a moment. Breathless, "Because touching you, tasting you, feeling you." She blushes, the statement finishing in thought, <Has me so wet for you.>
"Keep an eye out for undead," Alaric says.
Her tone suspiciously close to cheerful, "Always do."
"All right," Ameiko says, ambling over to where Kalimac has been watching the proceedings. "I'll take notes."Mel smiles over Kalimac, "Any last minute advice?"
As she waits, another arcane words, and 1d4+3 more Melindas appear. They all look over at Hrunndalf, "Well, gamall maður, what'cha waitin' for?"
"Not much," replies Kalimac. "You've been doing well. Just don't let your rage carry you away when you tap into it, and you should do fine."
"Oh, and with a weapon with reach like Hrunndalf's, you'd do well to come in close so he loses much of the great spear's advantage."
To Ameiko he says, "I have that problem with the lance. Get too close and I have to either back up or switch weapons."
"Oh, and with a weapon with reach like Hrunndalf's, you'd do well to come in close so he loses much of the great spear's advantage."
To Ameiko he says, "I have that problem with the lance. Get too close and I have to either back up or switch weapons."
She nods. "I think he's going with the sap in this fight, though, so as not to fry the pregnant lady. Having a number of back-up weapons seems like a good idea - came in handy for you at the Storm Tower, I noticed."
She nods. "I think he's going with the sap in this fight, though, so as not to fry the pregnant lady. Having a number of back-up weapons seems like a good idea - came in handy for you at the Storm Tower, I noticed."
"Wasn't exactly the situation I envisioned when I started packing all that kit, though. Usually I think in terms of needing a blunt weapon for skeletons, a bow for range, that sort of thing. You never know what you're going to need to fight. But being forced to drop each weapon as you pick them up? That was a new one." Kalimac laughs softly at the memory.
"But really, a mage can't have too many spells, a bard can't have too many stories, a thief can't have too many lock picks, and a cavalier can't have too many weapons."
"Wasn't exactly the situation I envisioned when I started packing all that kit, though. Usually I think in terms of needing a blunt weapon for skeletons, a bow for range, that sort of thing. You never know what you're going to need to fight. But being forced to drop each weapon as you pick them up? That was a new one." Kalimac laughs softly at the memory.
"But really, a mage can't have too many spells, a bard can't have too many stories, a thief can't have too many lock picks, and a cavalier can't have too many weapons."
"So, once I've added fighter and samurai to my training as a bard, rogue, and aristocrat, I'll need a lot of pockets, is what you're saying," she replies.
"So, once I've added fighter and samurai to my training as a bard, rogue, and aristocrat, I'll need a lot of pockets, is what you're saying," she replies.
"Yes. Or--since most of my kit is carried by Attatoq in his saddlebags--a stout wolf by your side."
"Yes. Or--since most of my kit is carried by Attatoq in his saddlebags--a stout wolf by your side."
"I'm not sure wolves are ever going to completely replace all other storage and filing systems," Ameiko comments, "But it would certainly make office jobs more interesting if they did."
"I'm not sure wolves are ever going to completely replace all other storage and filing systems," Ameiko comments, "But it would certainly make office jobs more interesting if they did."
"Everything's better with wolves. I've always said that." Kalimac turns to see where Attatoq is as a thought hits him. "Kuule poiss, et oleks hea luuletus teile: Kui kõik on paremini hundid."
"Everything's better with wolves. I've always said that." Kalimac turns to see where Attatoq is as a thought hits him. "Kuule poiss, et oleks hea luuletus teile: Kui kõik on paremini hundid."
Attatoq, nearby, assumes the thoughtful, contemplative look he tends to get when he is either internally composing poetry or sniffing rancid garbage.
Attatoq, nearby, assumes the thoughtful, contemplative look he tends to get when he is either internally composing poetry or sniffing rancid garbage.
Returning his attention to Ameiko, Kalimac muses, "Whatever he comes up with, he should share it with Alaric. I swear, after over half a year surrounded by wolves, you'd think he'd be more at ease around them."
Hrunndalf is partly disappointed and partly relieved that Ameiko sits out.
As Melinda starts casting a spell on herself, so does Hrunndalf.
Mel smiles over Kalimac, "Any last minute advice?"
"Got any for me as well?" he calls over as Kalimac counsels Melinda.
As she waits, another arcane words, and 1d4+3 more Melindas appear. They all look over at Hrunndalf, "Well, gamall maður, what'cha waitin' for?"
"You know I don't like picking on little girls, krakki," he replies grinning. "Even the ones who ask for it." He raises an eyebrow at Melinda's sudden multiplication, then casts another spell himself, which makes him grow to twice his size.
Hrunndalf decides to take matters in his own hands. He casts one last preparatory spell and then advances menacingly towards Melinda.
To hit: (crit )
Damage: (crit )
Target:
She takes in Alaric's words with a grin as Zaiobe comes up for air. "I think that's why the term 'drained dry' is featured heavily in the book." Her smile turning positively evil. "Poor you.." Meet his eyes as her body starts to sink deeper into the water, "You'll have to think of some way to keep us occupied for a while." Right before her head goes in the water, "But I have faith in your skills."
With that she submerges, one of her legs twisting under his to keep her underwater. She sinks her mouth fully over him, then slides her lips up and down, her tongue playing, giving all of his most sensitive spots a little extra attention.
Still wobbly, he guides Mel to her feet, into shallower water, and into a kiss with Zaiobe before sinking to his knees between them. A light brush of his lips over thighs and belly, each in turn, followed by the electric crackle of his teeth.
Then his tongue. Mel first, as he strokes Zaiobe lovingly, inside and out. Then he switches, mouth for the harpy, hand for Mel. He continues switching until one of them draws near, and she gets his mouth, gentle suction and merciless tongue, not wanting to miss a bit of her divine taste.
Mel rolls her eyes when she see the much larger Hrunndalf. "In this case, I really should have said unarmed, but my own fault."
She grins over at Ameiko and Kalimac, "Just so I don't get dinged on the lesson part of this test. Tactically sound is to move the heck away from the large, slow, ground-bound behemoth and use spells that ignore his armor."
She clicks her tongue against her teeth, "And since the spell that he just cast will give him a third attack if I stay in close, it's a far better for me not to let him stand still." And with that she moves away, Hrunndalf's larger size letting him take a swipe at her, but she ends up 60 feet from the large man.
For a breif second black energy surrounds her hand but she cuts it off with a curse. "ווי פיל ווי איך וואָלט ווי צו אפילו די פּלייינג פעלד רעכט איצט, אַז טאַקע איז ניט וואָס דעם עקססערסיסע איז פֿאַר." And instead she closes her eyes and internalizes whatever energy she was about to use.
When her breathing returns to a semblance of normality and her legs are capable of supporting her again, she joins Alaric in attending to Melinda, moving to her back as he plies her front. A hand slips between Melinda's legs and dances there with Alaric's tongue, an arm wraps around Melinda's chest in an embrace.
Her wings arch around to brush Alaric's back with a soft caress.
Ameiko's eyebrows go up a bit as she watches the preparations for the fight.
Returning his attention to Ameiko, Kalimac muses, "Whatever he comes up with, he should share it with Alaric. I swear, after over half a year surrounded by wolves, you'd think he'd be more at ease around them."
"We all have our phobias," she comments. "Bad luck for him that we seem to acquire wolves at a phenomenal rate, though."
Mel smiles over Kalimac, "Any last minute advice?""Got any for me as well?" he calls over as Kalimac counsels Melinda.
Kalimac scratches his head while the two combatants use their buffing spells. "First of all, hit the real Mel, and not the fake ones," he says helpfully. "Seriously, though, don't let her move as much as she wants. Like me, maneuverability is one of her great strengths."
"We all have our phobias," she comments. "Bad luck for him that we seem to acquire wolves at a phenomenal rate, though."
"He does try, I'll give him that. And as nervous as they make him, he's got nothing on Tollin when it comes to wolf-fear."
At some point, if anyone checks in on Lio and Shalelu, after all, the wagon has been very very quiet for quite a while now... they are greeted with clothes strewn about the floor in a very un-Shalelu and un-Lio like fashion, the bottle of booze in the middle of the wagon, a significant dent in the booze, enough to make you wince in sympathy for the heads of both women come morning, and lastly, when you look to the bunk Lio and Shae share, both women, holding each other, Lio fast asleep, sprawled on top of Shalelu, her head resting in the comfortable spot between Shae's shoulder and breast. Both women are without a stitch of clothing. Lio's tattoos are quite visible, the long snaking line of them a sharp contrast to her white skin, which has gotten even paler in the last few month of winter. If anyone makes noise, Lio moans unhappily, partially waking and stirring as she buries her face against Shae's body, falling back asleep quickly.
At some point during the night, Myri re-enters the wagon. She surveys the situation, hands on hips with a small smile and then sets about quietly cleaning and tidying things up, folding the ladies clothes and sets them next to the bed or in a convenient out of the way spot.
stealth not too disturb sleeping elves:
If it is option 1, then Mel will carefully make her way into the wagon, keeping her back to a wall to prevent pillow sneak attack.
If option 2, Mel will try to close the door without anyone noticing and go elsewhere instead.
Perception:
Seeing Mel enter, Myri freezes and
sleight of hand:
bluff:
attempts to hide the pillow behind her...which might be rather effective, except for the fact that a) Mel already saw what was going on and b) there are feathers floating around the wagon, one of which happens to float down and land on Myri's nose.
Her mouth twitches a bit to one side her slightly guilty expression turning to one of mild annoyance at the feather and attempts to puff it up in the air again
which I guess she is able to do successfully enough.
Her smile turns a bit more genuine, "Hi Mel, for what do we um..." she looks around again a little guiltily at the mess, "...have the pleasure of your visit?" She seems to have at least temporarily forgotten her prey...or was it tormenter?
He reaches between her legs. "So you are," he says, slipping the finger into her mouth.
He drops to his knees. "What I want is to worship you. Love you. Bend you over and @#*! you until you beg me to stop."
He slides a finger, now wet, up her ankles, knees, thighs, to the warmth of her. For a moment, he merely looks at her, wet and blushing and bare for him. Grinning, he replaces his hands with his mouth, reaching around to clutch her ass. He eats her thoroughly, showing no mercy, even after she comes. Only when her knees buckle does he stop, and then only long enough to kiss her deeply before returning between her legs.
Then as her body starts to settle, Zaiobe's hand slides it way forward, the additional stimulation almost immediately sending Melinda into another blissful release. When she comes down to earth from that one, she slips bonelessly from Zaiobe's arms, a smile on her lips, into Alaric's embrace.
After a few moments she moves so that Zaiobe can join them, her eyes half-closed still with aftershocks of pleasure.
Her hands run casually over both Alaric's and Zaiobe's bodies. A calm rest in the warm of the pool. Then her cat green eyes open and with a languid smile, she asks, "more?"
"I had hoped it wouldn't have to come to this... but very well." Hrunndalf unslings the sheathed greatsword from his back and holds it before him, pointing at the hilt. "This... is where you hold it," he says gravely, trying to keep a straight face.Ameiko nods solemnly as Liothonae's laughter washes over her.
"Let all be aware - Hrunndalf prefers that his sword be gripped at the base." She looks at the weapon. "Firmly, yet not crushingly, if I have it aright." She looks back up at him "Should we be taking notes?"
** spoiler omitted **
bluff:
Myri's cheeks redden slightly. Though she mostly hides a smile.