Volcano's Land - Mercury Morn

Game Master Miner Cotren

Advisor Umik has accompanied Learningto. The magician's wrinkled face, normally full of laugh lines, now looks decidedly worried at the presence of the salamanders. His robes, decorated with all three aspects of Forest and many minor aspects, swish around his ankles as he limps over as quickly as he can.

Addressing Samen, Gabriel, and the others first, he rasps, "Greetings, warriors! Chieftain Wamblee has invited you to a feast, to celebrate your great deeds."

Clearing his throat (and clearing the rasp not one bit), he speaks louder, addressing the snakes. "And you as well...friends? Are you here to celebrate freedom and peace with us?"

Samen and the others would know that's not the best approach to getting the salamanders' interest - toasting to the death of enemies is more their style

Kallik's insubstantial heart pounds, hoping Umik has no special Sight to see phantoms. She is not ready to face him. So many mistakes since she was banished from the East Tribe. She just can't.

"Hmm? Oh, indeed, in a manner of speaking. Of course, you mean the freedom of the victors, and the peace that comes through dominating foes. Cultural barriers aside, they participated in the triumph and deserve the honor of a feast."

Samen hopes this comes off as subtle instruction for Umik on how to further deal with the Salamanders, and not simply arrogant pomposity.

"Will there be...healing potions and wine?"

Learningto Ellen holds on to the little one, gently. With encouraging motions, the elder myco leads the younger. Idly, Learningto wonders if Hroof Hroofa is having any better success getting along with Hakka today. Both of those warriors are impatient, and intolerant of impatience in others.

Shaking her head to clear it and to focus on the wonderful now, Learningto smiles at Qizzlvutz. "How are you, small one, my brave one?"

Samen, Umik raises an eyebrow at Kessh-Amon's strange question. He shrugs with looking at you, suddenly the local salamander expert, as if to say, I can find some. Should I say yes?

Gabriel, your shadow has -finally- recovered completely from that awful sun garbage. It gives you a rude mental prod.
What the volc happens to me if you turn into a hewn man or whatever the hell he's calling it?

Gabriel, thankful that Samen is there to hold everyone's attention, fades into the background. Good luck dealing with Kesh-Amon. At least you're better equipped for that than me.

Having created a bit of space, Gabe speaks openly, "Oh my persistent shadow, I don't think anything will happen to you. You are tied to my essence, not my elenity. I don't think any magic that Samen can cast would be strong enough to banish you. Especially if he's casting it on me."

Fine.

Where is Abnaki? He should be dealing with all this social protocol work, not me.

"Alas, noble Kessh-Amon, those are a resource in limited supply and we customarily do not use them for celebratory purposes. Wine, however is intended for just such an occasion and I'm sure it will flow freely."

He returns Umik's glance, as if to say, leave it at that.

"Ah. Well, that which you cannot cure, you can drown in wine. An ifrit ssaying, we think. Ha!" Mollified for the moment, the large salamander follows the rest of the group toward the feast, with Ssuh-Luhss several paces behind, always cautious, always with one head look over its shoulder.

It is twelfth candle.

Between Umik's limping gait and Qizzlvutz's small, shy movements, you make slow progress toward the village green. It gives you time to appreciate the size of the local Elder. The towering tree is lost in fog and cloud today, with rain likely on the way. The grass is damp with dew as you walk across the simple earthen walkways.

On this side of the Horned Mountains, there is no visible peaklight, only the dim reflections that stretch above the mountains. Samen has a difficult time seeing details in such dim light, and the salamanders complain. "Who amongst you has fire craft to make a torch? We cannot see in this wretched darkness!" (they do not volunteer to do it themselves)

The green sits upon the crest of a hill, about halfway down to the stone-shaped city that surrounds the Quiet Elder. The green itself is slightly larger than a brutbreve or a siphithiphithi field, flattened no doubt by orean earthshapers. The wide area offers a spectacular view of the city and the valley, although anything beyond the Elder is shrouded in fog today.

Kallik frowns at the snakes, even though they can't see her. She wishes they would pop back into their own plane of existence and leave them alone.

Qizzlvutz does a strange little dance, the kind Kallik recognizes - they have just had an idea. With an exuberant burble, it says, "Fire (makes you) happy, yes?"

Kessh-Amon scowls, hardly understanding if they have been addressed. Qizzlvutz, giggling, rubs fingers together, faster, a small green spark of gathering magicks. Taking Kallik's hand (which looks like grabbing the air to everyone else), Qizzlvutz opens a portal to (hell), in this case a plane of fire.

Out hops a beetle the size of a large loaf of bread.

I was amused by how perfect this was, and the little part with Kallik means the spell will last 24 hrs. They took a little of Kallik's power to do this, so it will be 24 hrs before you can use that "Usurp Manifestation" ability.

The beetle crackles and flames on Kessh-Amon's shoulder. Both heads roar with laughter and delight at the small thing. It provides enough light for the salamander to stop complaining, and provides it with a pleasant distraction.

Wamblee greets you near the standing tables, freshly bandaged and washed. "It feels good to be home, brother." He smiles as he sees Chapawee tending to the other guests as the informal feast gets going.

He companionably puts a hand on Samen's shoulder. "What does your human body eat, brother? I doubt it is rocks. We have cooked meat for the ifrits, and some bowls of fruits and nuts for the sylphs among our ranks."

Gabriel is satisfied with the fire-roasted deer meat. Amusingly, so are the salamanders.

Qizzlvutz and Learningto are completely fine with rocks, to everyone's mild surprise

Samen, you find that you are an omnivore - anything, including the fish and kelp diet of the undines, could probably sustain you. But not rocks. You are not sure if there is a particular food that humans thrive upon, or if it simply another place where humans occupy some null middle ground.

On the way to the celebration, Gabe discusses with his shadow, "Look, I know you don't like the idea of me trying this experiment. I'll make sure with Samen that any possible... hitchhikers... don't have any issues. He may have some expertise with our... arrangement. Believe it or not, I may have developed a bit of fondness for you."

At the feast Gabriel eats his roast deer in silence, letting the social activities happen around him. He does show a little interest in Samen's new form. It's not every day you see a new life form in action... at least not one that's not trying to kill you.

Samen enjoys the variety of gathered foods happily. He has a melancholic feeling about not being able to enjoy the rocks along with his former brethren, but it isn't surprising given the rest of the Elens inability to consume them as well.

He turns to Gabe halfway through the meal. "Well, shall we give everyone a fright and do what we discussed earlier? I assure you, for weal or woe, it will all be quite temporary."

I wouldn't be here in the first place without people experimenting on you, so I can't complain too much. Just remember I found you again after we died. I'm hard to get rid of. Your shadow somehow gives a disturbing impression of smiling, even though it is nothing but a silhouette.

Concentric circles of arcing stone tables hold all the feasting food and drinks - orean fare on the longest arc outside ; then ifrit ; then sylphan; and finally drinks for all the races in the shortest arc.  Bitter orean ales, rich in sediment are in abundance, with a strong sideboard of ifrits wines, mostly dry reds.  The salamanders are drinking a bottle of wine each.  They gasp and gulp without a thought for propriety.  Does such a thing even exist in salamander society?   

A mellow drum orchestra is playing as those assembled begin to find their places at the standing tables.  You see Wamblee's advisors, as well as the chieftain himself and his wife.  There is an honor guard around the outside of the gathering, as befits Wamblee's station.  You think there is a cadre of ifrit paladins at another table.  Yet another hosts eccentric-looking sylphs, perhaps some surviving wizards that have not gone completely mad.  Further off, you even see Hroof Hroofa and the other myco warriors.  Judging from this glimpse, the Tribe of Peace is varied, if nothing else.  Skilled orean bards sing in rough voices while juggling glowing rocks of green and blue and red.

Maybe it was a fragment of personality from before his traumas, maybe it was some of the fey influence from his recent transformation... Either way, the idea of shocking the attendees sounded like a good one. Gabriel gazes at the crowd making note of the various guests. Are we only introducing more chaos into the world? Are we letting adversaries know there is a new type of el? No... no, we are among friends here... and the look on their faces will be worth it!

"Sure Samen, let's put on a show!"

Samen smiles. At least 'humans' look slightly more normal when they are smiling. Dusting off his hands with an air of satisfaction, he stands up. No time like the present.

In between songs, the two of you stand in a spot where most of the crowd can see you.

any introductions, Samen, before you cast the spell, or just going for it?

Nah, I'm just gonna go for it. Let folks notice as they may.

Gabriel's skin melts off.

Or so it would appear to onlookers: Samen incants some magic words, a little flash of magic, and Gabriel's gray/black scarred ifrit skin congeals into a waxy substance, reforming to a new mold.

The skin lightens, losing scars and coloring and toughness. Like Samen, the end result is a rubbery, pinkish kind of covering. Your eyes are a dull, uninteresting brown. The loss of so many blessings from the gods --your fire resistance, your fritan speed-- feels like heavy luggage taken off your shoulders. Or perhaps it feels like the absence of armor.

Your shadow is no longer black - it is a flat reflection of you, like a mirror that has fallen over. It does not blink or move - just a neutral expression staring blindly into the blank Sky.

lose access to fire resist, enlarge/reduce, and Reactionary trait, darkvision, and Sprinter for the duration of the spell. Gain "Telekinetic Projectile" cantrip for the duration of the spell.

"Ah, you (are) capable of shifting! I (wonder) if you (can be) taller too?"

Qizzlvutz applauds at the spectacle, thinking it to be a strange play, like it has read about in the cast-offs of Heap.

Your bland-faced shadow says, I hate this. Is this ordeal worth anything?

Samen applauds loudly. "Very good, very good! How does it feel to be unburdened?"

To the crowd more broadly, "See the bare flesh of a man! I, no we are not the aberrations, but the intended and perfect primordial form of all elenity. We are free from the influence of all the gods! Free from the benevolent and malignant! Free to choose our own way, serve who we would serve, and flourish and live and die as we should desire.

Naturally, many will not choose this path, but the truth of it is evident. For now, simply observe and know that all our elen histories are more legend than truth. This is what we were, and what I hope we shall one day restore."

There are many interested onlookers, and you get some scattered claps for the presentation, but no one seems truly moved by it.

I'll see how Gabriel reacts to all this before I get to more crowd reactions. I'd like to continue to RP this.

context - these are people that have been shaken by the recent gem wars, and the opposing side had many illusions, etc that they will be hard to surprise, unless you start throwing around your psychic abilities (as those are completely different from elen magicks of any kind)

Wamblee looks on with guarded interest, and even gives a dignified clap or two, but he is more watchful than curious. He thinks back to almost being choked to death by a dust elemental Samen had captured. To Abbygailiwy, that noxious gasbag. To all the other little dangerous experiments his brother loved so well.

Chieftain Wamblee watches, and smiles politely. The safety of the surrounding people is his only concern for now.

Kallik's only interest in Qizzl. She ignores the warlock's latest freakshow, except as a potential threat.

Gabe first sees the change in his shadow... such a boring thing now. Though grating at times, he is relieved that it still speaks to him. No harm done there at least.

He tries to look around but his reduced vision means he can't see much past the guests. He tries to blink away the softness of the outskirts of the green in the darkness but they stay just out of reach.

Finally he looks down at himself, staring at the pink flesh, poking at himself to make sure it's real. Feeling the loss of so many things he took for granted, he feels naked though he is clothed. His last transformation from the temple's experiments tore him down and he rebuilt himself as best he could. Slowly he is discovering how much of his reformed identity is tied into his innate abilities. The emptiness he feels now is like the walls of his psyche's stronghold have been torn down. Looking into the dark sky he feels like he might fall off into the nothingness. It's only his steel will keeping him from curling into a ball on the ground. Samen is depending on us to not show weakness in his form. Focus... focus...

He finds himself staring overly long into the sky as he is trying to keep it together. Through his inward focusing he notices that the emptiness isn't exactly a void. His mind reaches for the small mote of light that lingers in the vast mental space. As soon as he touches it, a bowl flies into the dark sky, seemingly of it's own volition. Looking around, trying to spot the new threat, he curses his "pure" eyes making things harder to see. This feels... familiar... unlike my fritan magic but triggered similarly though smaller somehow. Maybe if I... He again touches the light mote with his mind, focusing this time on a nearby cup and one of the drink containers. Again, the thing flies without any apparent outside influence! Gabriel looks to Samen with a curious expression, his mental break has apparently been averted. "Not an illusion... Physically changed... there's a gap...before, I could be taller... other abilities replace the loss."

Opræterius speaks into the minds of the two humans. Yes! Show them the burgeoning glories of the unfettered mind!

Wamblee's bodyguard, Hakka, gives a derisive laugh. His dark maple features are set in a skeptical scowl as he says, "So you lose your fire and whatever else ifrits are worth, and you get an invisible blowdart? What is this compared to the strength of an oread? What is this compared to earthbreaking and stoneshaping?" He folds his arms in challenge.

Samen nods along with Hakka's assessment. "True, true. You are much stronger than I am. None can question the speed of the Ifrits or the endurance of the Oreads. The skills of the different elens are gifts granted by the gods, to be sure. But they are the 'gifts' the wealthy give to the poor. Gifts that ensnare and capture and tame the masses. I am sure that in some ancient dark day, our ancestors chose to accept these gifts over some long forgotten worse fate. But now, today, with the elementals bleeding into our world, we cannot afford for all to be in bondage."

In an effort to not alienate everyone with hard truths, Samen changes tactics, and poses a rhetorical question to his challenger. "I'm not suggesting that any stop venerating the Great Forest, or the Quiet Elders, or anyone else. I'm suggesting that it should be done free of shackles, with open eyes. Tell me, Hakka, which is more noble; Serving a master because it is your nature, you come from a long line of slaves, and you know no other way, or because you love him and choose to serve?"

"But if you will be convinced by a demonstration of the strengths of this form, like young boys performing measuring contests, I can oblige you with both a demonstration of what my mind can do and the power of the lost god Sun in the palm of my hand."

You can tell your choice of words is provoking Hakka to hasty words of his own. "What shackles are on me, or any oread? There are many in the heathen West Tribes that choose to live in the godless monasteries instead. They have strength and endurance as any oread does."

He puts his hands high into the air. "With one foot I could stomp this entire feast into the ground, twenty feet deep! What can your pink brain in your pink skull do that can beat my foot?" He grins, fancying himself clever.

Samen frowns with a sigh. "Measuring contest it shall be, then. It would quite ruin the mood of the party to use your mighty foot for such violence. How about instead you use that foot, along with the other, for dancing and merrymaking to lift the spirits of all until Wamblee should command you to stop?"

Casting persistent suggestion - He needs to make two DC 20 will saves. If this counts as a "very reasonable" request, he suffers -1 or -2 on the save.

base,wis,iron,amulet, but -1: 1d20 + 2 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (16) + 2 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 = 23
base,wis,iron,amulet, but -1: 1d20 + 2 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (5) + 2 + 2 + 2 + 2 - 1 = 12

A drumbeat starts up, and Hakka takes the center and begins dancing. He is quite skilled - his warrior's agility serves him well in the fast-tempo clapping and swaying. Furthermore, he appears to be enjoying himself.

Wamblee smiles. "The old Samen would have growled and threatened with bolts of thunder and flame. Possibly while brandishing a staff on fire. I think I like this new Samen a great deal more."

The snakes stay well away from the crowd, but both of the salamanders are slowly swaying to the music, tongues numb from wine.

Hahaha, yes! He should make people dance against their will all the time! The expressionless face on your shadow makes a strange contrast with his mocking laugh.

Samen grins. Glad that worked! Abnaki would be proud.

"Ha ha! Now it's a party!"

He gets down and joins Hakka dancing, albeit with less skill, inviting all to join them.

summoned by his name, abnaki makes a brief appearance on a 2 is good: 1d2 ⇒ 2

Samen, ever so briefly you catch a glimpse of Abnaki himself, standing tall at the back of the gathered crowd. He looks...tired. Grinning broadly despite his obvious exhaustion, he gives you a single nod. The wordsmith lets you know with no words at all that he is fine, and the party looks fun. In a puff of showy sparkles, he is gone, whisked back to the dream realm to...do something Abnaki would do.

Samen, one of the sylphan wizards walks from his table to come talk to you. He is middle-aged, cautious. His wizardly accoutrements are subtle and simple; the marks of a powerful magic-user. He smiles, teeth white in contrast to his glossy, raven-black beard. "I've squinted at your magicks with every Sight I can think of, including the true Sight. It's...not magic. How is such a thing accomplished, sir?"

Kallik is satisfied that she won't be needed here to clean up any random monsters. She notices Qizzlvutz looks tired. Unseen, unheard, the phantom warrior shepards the small myco to their sleeping quarters for the night.

Learningto sees that young Qizzl is in good hands, and decides to stay at the song-dance-play-eat-talk. So many things to see.

When Wamblee claps after the sixth song and asks Hakka to rest his feet, the suggestion wears off, just as Samen worded it. You are happy to see Hakka has no hard feelings - he is breathing deeply, like he has just run a satisfying race, and you clearly see the delegates of the Tribe of Peace more relaxed after Samen's light-hearted demonstration. A few stray mental motes of merrymaking still flavor the air in the slow dissolution of your spell.

With a smile, Hakka says, "Okay, you show us the power of your mind. Okay. But what about a son in your hand?" He points to a younger boy who is clearing one of the nearby tables, thinking of sons. "What does that even mean?"

Gabriel, the Sunlord speaks clearly but not overloud into your mind. We know you have no fondness of Us, shadow-elen. We want to speak clearly, and ask but a single question. If you decide to keep these changes and remain human, you could likely develop the powers of your mind even more, just as others have before you. We make no guarantees - We only offer to open the door toward freedom from...your tongues have no word for it. Freedom from obligations, We suppose.

Will you at least consider becoming human? The door will remain open to you as long as my priest bends his mind toward this noble task.

Samen winks at the mage. "That's the thing about a world shrouded in darkness, my friend. We lose track of the Sights there are to see with.
There are more kinds of magic than all our collective knowledge, save perhaps Uluru, can account for. Find me in a quieter moment, and I shall elaborate."

When the dance ends, Samen bows to Hakka out of respect and extends his hand in friendship.

"Haha, you mistake me, though it's more a fault of the common tongue itself. Just as our humanity has long since been forgotten, so has the god named 'Sun', with a 'u'. Glory, radiance, truth, and wisdom are his aspects. Heat, and light are his right arm and left. He is the older brother of Moon, and can banish both him and the Darkness, as he did of old."

Samen smiles a bit sheepishly. "While I have been granted a touch of his power, this is not an attribute of humanity in general, so it was a bit of a boast beyond reason, for which I apologize. Nevertheless, a demonstration has been called for, so a demonstration shall be given."

Samen, checking first that there is none hiding in the trees around him, thrusts his hands straight upward and sends a sunbeam careening off into the abyss above.

As the dancing begins, Gabriel decides to test out this new body. Joining in the festivities he leaps from table to table, arms and body executing movements with the music. He is awkward in his new form though so he is not as graceful as he could have been.

Perform Dance: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11

As the dancing is dying down, he acknowledges the voice in his head. I will consider your offer for two reasons. One, I trust Samen. And two, you are offering this as an option instead of trying to force me to accept your transformation. Even if I don't accept, I appreciate your consideration of my wishes. Before this experiment, my last "transormation" was against my wishes. You've seen how well that worked out. In his mind's eye he pictures the scars and the pain that accompanied their formation. Gabriel apparently doesn't consider the Heap and the fey influence of changes as the same category of transformation.

Samen, you hurl a blazing beam of yellow into the face of the dead sky, the air crackling and spitting in its wake. Nearby bushes and trees suddenly blossom and bloom, opening like surprised mouths, drinking in the powerful light. In contrast, the elens all gasp and look away, temporarily blinded by the display. Learningto makes extra eyes, over and over, to look as long as she possibly can.

Up, and up, daring the very Dark that surrounds elenkind. The awful heat disrupts an entire cloud layer as it goes, causing a downpour several second later. Up, and gone. The sunbeam winks out far above you, leaving only the astonished faces and blooming flowers being beaded by the sunkissed rain.

Kessh-Amon actually tries to rear up and catch the bolt of sun in its jaws, despite it being out of reach almost immediately. Their mouths open wide in that reptilian show of hunger and envy.