Félicité will trigger by Striding ◆.
◆
◆
plus plus
Turrey continues to sing of unassailable mountain peaks. As he does, he feels his own supernatural haste leave him, and he returns to his usual tempo.
”Nope!” Bellaluna is attacked by literal death and bails away from it
Now away from the reaper, Bellaluna reloads her other crossbow . She then levels both of her crossbows and fires at the reaper!
Kaldren hurries over to confront the final reaper. Calling once more for Pharasma's might and strikes out at the creature.
◆ Stride 20ft
◆ Smite Evil
◆
◆
Gregoth charges in to protect his allies, and the reaper does not teleport to him, apparently watching Bellaluna like a hawk.
Félicité also dashes away, and the reaper doesn't spare her any attention, as it watches Bellaluna's crossbows instead. It regrets that seconds later as Félicité punishes it with a precise shot that snaps off one of its legs at the knee.
When Kaldren charges in, it flashes next to him and strikes.
Kaldren knocks the scythe away with his flail, and his follow-up strike, guided by Félicité's advice, utterly obliterates it. Bits of bone are sent spraying across the floor.
Gregoth
Red
Kaldren
Félicité
Bellaluna
Turrey
Blue
In the aftermath of combat, the sound of revelry and accordion music coming from below seems especially strange. With the guardians dealt with, you're free to attempt to disrupt the magic connecting Silent Lenore to the other final blades around the country, though many of you have received some nasty wounds.
Félicité should do at least two Treat Wounds, since she can do 4 at once, and Continual Recovery doesn't lock out.
+67
+132
I think if Kalden then uses one cycle of Refocus/LOH/Refocus (+102) on Gregoth, everyone is back up to full and Refocused after 30 min.
---
I assume Félicité is doing the fiddling with the mirrors. I'll spoiler in case someone else wants to, or Aid.
In the quiet aftermath of the hectic battle, Félicité moves around tending to the wounds of the party. Mostly they are wicked long cuts from magically sharp scythes, but such wounds are no match for Félicité's skills and within half and hour (and with a little of Pharasma's grace) everyone is feeling just as good as when they arrived.
During that time you had a chance to examine the so-called Lesser Deaths, which were little more than old bones wrapped in rags. Even their scythes which gleamed when they wielded them and cut through armour like cloth, now seem like rusted old ploughshares.
After she's finished Félicité begins working on the runes. They are extremely fine, some of the most intricate rune-work she's ever seen. They also seem to be channelling a tremendous amount of power, and she knows one wrong move could result in that power being channelled through her. She also realises that any major tampering would be immediately obvious to the creators of this incredible occult working, so she decides to adjust each rune so that it projects light onto another mirror, reasoning that this will look the same to onlookers below, but cause the funnelling of power to fail and disconnect Silent Lenore from the network.
After she's finished the careful and delicate work to redirect the runes, the large iron clock in the ballroom below strikes nine, and in time with the final strike, the large entrance doors are slammed open. A chorus of shocked gasps from the party-goers draws your interest, and peering down through the hole you can just make out the new arrival. An older man with white hair is dressed in a very macabre costume. He's wrapped in a funeral shroud and wears a mask that resembles a corpse's pallid face with splotchy red pox marks on it that reveals only one eye.
The shocked-hush quickly fades away as the party resume, and you can see down through the hole that the newcomer quickly moves into the party with a purpose and becomes lost in the crowd.
Looking at the passageway to the east you find a disused old hallway lined with empty crates. There is a thick layer of dust over everything, and it ends in a stone wall.
He's wrapped in a funeral shroud and wears a mask that resembles a corpse's pallid face with splotchy red pox marks on it that reveals only one eye.
I get that this adventure’s title is supposed to be a play on The Masque of the Red Death, but this is a bit on-the-nose.
Bellaluna stares down at the sudden newcomer with curiosity. Now what is going on there? But something of more immediate interest draws her attention. The timing was impeccable.
”Let’s continue mingling about. My gut is telling that there’s more to this party; maybe more secret passages and skeletons in closets. Perhaps literally. Felicia, I’m guessing you’re going after our sudden newcomer? I’ll take a look at that clock; something tells me it’s more than just decoration.”
While Félicité works with the runes, Turrey composes a little poem about their experience so far, in order to refocus himself. Seeing her handywork, he looks up with a smile. "Nice work!"
Then, turning to his burley companion, the little bard suggests, "Gregoth, shall we look behind a few more curtains? Then, if we don't discover anything else of note up here, perhaps we should return to the main floor."
Gregoth nods, drawing his dark woolen cloak closer around himself. Félicité‘s stitches might have closed the holes in his skin, but his clothes do not respond nearly as well to her salves and ointments.
After assiting with the healing, Kaldren sits quietly with his eyes closed communing with his godess.
"I will acompany Félicité, I'd like a closer look at this new comer."
The group decides to split up again, after dismantling the strange magical network connecting the final blades. Bellaluna returns to the party to mingle and examine the clock, Turrey and Gregoth start looking around for any other secret passages, and Félicité and Kaldren go in search of the macabre newcomer.
Heading back down the stairs and into the Ballroom it seems no-one noticed the sounds of fighting from above, as all seems exactly as you left it. Making your way to where the clock is built into the wall high above the ballroom floor. Looking up at it you get the unsettling feeling that time is counting down to some dire event.
"Marvellous isn't it?"
The opulently dressed party-goer wearing a large star-shaped mask whom Illachin had spotted earlier has approached while you examined it. You recall that Félicité had recognized this person as Galtan finance Babry Wrenolus. Around him are a small entourage of clerks.
"I was hoping to spot someone as interested in clockwork as you evidently are. I received this as a gift," he draws out a pocket watch from his breast pocket. "I received this as a gift and sadly it no longer works. Might you be able to help repair it?"
Unpinning a curtain near the musicians the two of you slip through a door into a deserted passageway in the monastery itself.
As you move stealthily down passageways you find a few offices, kitchens, training rooms and so forth. In one of the offices there are notes left on a desk with length lists of Litran's citizens and comprehensive summations of their daily activities, but the rest of the room is completely bare, as if the lists were left out for snooping eyes to find.
While moving down one corridor you spot a heavily armed Gray Gardener, but they spot the two of you in the same instant. They shout in a gruff voice and reach for their sword, but suddenly remember themselves and instant later relax and become more polite without drawing it.
"STOP RIGHT THERE! The Ballroom is this way, allow me to escort you honoured guests"
Despite their polite tone, the grip they take on Turrey's arm is firm enough to bruise.
It takes only a few moments of looking around the Grand Ballroom before the macabre figure finds you, stalking toward you with purpose before addressing you. The one eye you can see studies you with intensity, lingering on the spiral embroidered onto Kaldren's cassock.
"You two seem to have more substance than the rest of the mewling sycophants around here. You ought to anyway, wearing that." His eye stares directly at the spiral for second. "I hope you deserve to wear it, boy". His voice seems to drip derision.
"I am seeking something specific here. What do you know of monsters that peer from the Ethereal plane?"
Despite being near several of the other party-goers, he is speaking very loudly.
"Apologies, I'm not exactly a clocksmith; I was simply admiring the grandeur of this iron timepiece here."
"I do have the right to wear this." Kaldren touches his chest lightly and continues. "We may no something of such creatures, though this is a strange place to search for such information. What brings you here? and by what right do you question my legitimacy?" Kaldrens hand lowers to the haft of his flail in a vaguely threatening manor.
Félicité reaches a hand out to calm Kaldren.
"This powerful holy warrior is Nellibet, who we sought earlier at the monestary. He is a planes-walker who is as at home in the Astral plane as he is the material plane."
Turning to Nellibet, Félicité adds, "Ustalav, if I'm not mistaken? Perhaps Ardis, from your accent?"
Félicité turns back to Kaldren, commenting, "I bet he would have been helpful when we were deciding whether to lay an ambush for those sahkils."
Félicité will gladly offer up information that she knows () but she also asks him why he is asking here, as he surely knows more than we do.
Turrey--glad, for the moment that his face is covered--settles into his role.
"My dear friend, no need for all of that. We were informed that the lavatory was in here...but perhaps my acquaintance was pulling my leg.
"Would you be kind enough to point us in the right direction?"
"Oh that's a shame, it's such a nice piece isn't it. Have you been enjoying the musicians?"
Babry puts the watch back in his pocket and makes idle chit-chat, but quickly approaches another admirer of the wall-clock and starts up his "Marvellous isn't it? I was hoping to spot someone..." patter before showing them his pocket watch.
Nellibet inclines his masked head toward Félicité when she names him, and his visible eye widens with excitement when she mentions sahkils. He still looks sourly at Kaldren however.
"I've met many who claim such a right. Indeed The Bones Fall in a Spiral contains a most apt parable of the Necromancer who dresses as a priest and heals a town's children, perhaps you recall it?"
What follows is a rapid exchange of esoteric Pharasma Lore as Kaldren and Nellibet realise they have a great deal in common. They discover that they've been moving in several of the same circles, and have even heard of each other's great deeds. Nellibet goes from a sour judgemental priest to a avuncular old friend in a matter of minutes. He spots an open room adjacent to the ballroom and ducks inside with you, where he discards his costume and takes his mask off. His eyepatch shows a spiral much like Kaldren's cassock.
"Nellibet Amberin, you were quite right Milady. Ardis too, you have a good ear. I'm here hunting sahkils. Fiends of Fear, they are! Sahkils have joined with the Gray Gardeners, harvesting the fear their terrible authority sows in the land. In turn, the Gardeners learn new ways of terror from them. It is a dread symbiosis, but a symbiosis is all it is. They are allies, but neither group is the master. Some inhuman force is behind it, I'm certain! Something is pulling the strings from behind the scenes, making the sahkils, the Gray Gardeners, and all of Galt dance. We'll see what that is before this night is through, I would bet your souls on it"
He looks eagerly at Félicité and Kaldren before continuing.
"I can think it nothing short of divine providence that we should meet here like this. Tell me, what have you learned, why are you here?"
Relaxing his grip a little the Gardener leads you back to the ballroom and stands at the doorway you emerge from to ensure you don't head back.
Gregoth does his best to remain calm as the guards escort him and Turrey back to the ballroom. "Well that could have gone better," he whispers, bending down and trying not to wince at a particularly sour note from one of the violins. "Let's tell the others... Wait, do you see K and F anywhere?" He straightens up, relaxing slightly when he spots Bellaluna's tall form on the other side of a group of masked guests.
Bellaluna shrugs and seeks out Félicité, pointing her toward the gentleman wanting to get his watch fixed.
Félicité and Kaldren have a rapid-fire exchange with Nellibet, quickly discussing what they've each learned.
"Sahkils traffic in fear and are vulnerable to holy weapons and effects. They can slip easily into the Ethereal Plane and back, making them hard to pin down"" Nellibet explains, seeing that Félicité and Kaldren aren't surprised by the information, he continues
"There's a rare type of sahkil called a tumblak that embodies the fear of being buried alive. I'm hoping to find one here tonight to vanquish it and study it, the better to prepare any who face one in the future"
When the topic turns to the Gray Gardeners, Nellibet confides "...I believe that the directors general aren't the leaders of the Gray Gardeners as it's commonly thought, but instead merely highly positioned administrators relaying orders from an inner circle."
Félicité's insightful reply jogs his memory and he continues "In fact I think I've heard them being referred to as prophets of the wyrm" or something like that.
Before taking his leave to pursue his own research he hastily adds a warning that he thinks "...something nefarious might be happening with Silent Lenore, I spotted a strange gleam on the blade..." however Félicité is able to put his fear at rest.
As he leaves he shakes hands with Kaldren and then Félicité, and while doing so with Kaldren he puts a small charm into Kaldren's hand; a tiny icon of a masked raven.
"May The Lady protect you"
While holding the charm Kaldren realises he can sense the life-force from all those around him, and realises that it must be a Greater Nosoi Charm, a rare and powerful item.
As the two of them return to the ballroom and search for further evidence of the Gray Gardener's plans, Félicité finds herself beneath the clock with the Finance Minister, and is offered the watch to repair in much the same way as Bellaluna was.
Félicité can immediately see that it is fine piece, though not particularly unusual. There is no damage to it, but it appears to have been disassembled and then put back together incorrectly, and there are even a couple of tiny gears missing. After a few minutes of careful tinkering Félicité gets it working again, moving the missing gears to the drift-countering mechanism so that it now keeps time, but not particularly accurately.
Babry is delighted, bouncing with joy at having his gift restored.
"Oh my GOODNESS! Do you know how long I've had that broken timepiece? Every artisan in Galt has told me it was irreparable! I just knew I'd find a skilled individual here. Tell me, where did you learn such talent, the Clockwork Cathedral? Numeria?"
He and his entourage follow Félicité around for a while, and even after they've left she finds one of his clerks appearing to open doors for her as she approaches them, or to offer her a new drink when hers is empty.
A few minutes before 10 p.m. as the group is gathered to discuss their findings, Babry bounces up to Félicité quite agitated.
"My Lady. I just heard some most troubling gossip. A guest was just kidnapped by the Gardners! Four Gardners emerged out of a curtain, grabbed an elderly gentleman, and bundled him behind the curtain, pegging it closed behind him! Can you believe it? Are any of us safe?"
Turrey and Gregoth look around and notice that the Gardner who was guarding the entrance they had returned from is gone.
"If the gardeners are taking people we need to help. Which curtain did they take them into?"
"I can follow invisibly. That might be best for now--but listen for my whistle and be ready to run.
"Not that I'd ever let myself get in over my head.", The performer gives a winning grin.
After the briefest pause, Turrey adds, "Though if we wanted to, I could disguise each of you as someone else--perhaps even as any Gardeners that we meet and have the fortune of...relieving of their duties? First though, I suspect it's best for me--and anyone else who can turn invisible--to take a quick look."
"That one!"
Babry points energetically, looking like he's on the edge of a nervous breakdown and may faint at any moment.
"There's a rare type of sahkil called a tumblak that embodies the fear of being buried alive. I'm hoping to find one here tonight to vanquish it and study it, the better to prepare any who face one in the future"
When the topic turns to the Gray Gardeners, Nellibet confides "...I believe that the directors general aren't the leaders of the Gray Gardeners as it's commonly thought, but instead merely highly positioned administrators relaying orders from an inner circle."
[dice=Félicité Society (L)]1d20+31
Félicité's insightful reply jogs his memory and he continues "In fact I think I've heard them being referred to as prophets of the wyrm" or something like that.
Félicité relays this information to her compatriots at her earliest convenience.
Before taking his leave to pursue his own research he hastily adds a warning that he thinks "...something nefarious might be happening with Silent Lenore, I spotted a strange gleam on the blade..." however Félicité is able to put his fear at rest.
Félicité will tell him about the mirrors, as well as the grim reapers.
"It's possible that they were specifically there for me. The goddess Urgathoa and I have some ... unfinished business. But I believe the problem has been settled for now."
"Oh my GOODNESS! Do you know how long I've had that broken timepiece? Every artisan in Galt has told me it was irreparable! I just knew I'd find a skilled individual here. Tell me, where did you learn such talent, the Clockwork Cathedral? Numeria?"
"I have traveled the world, near and far, looking for ways to extend life, from the darklands of Osirion to the mechanical world of Numeria."
---
When she learns of the missing guest, Félicité is eager to pursue, but she has no means to follow invisibly. However, if the entrance is unguarded, perhaps it would be best if Turrey and anyone else who can move stealthily were to lead, and the rest can lag behind more openly.
“I don’t think we should be caught together in there again - not unless we’re looking for a fight.” Not unless we’re looking to die… Gregoth’s hand clenches involuntarily on the hilt of the sword hanging from his belt. You might not care, he tells himself, but what about Turrey? Will you kill him for your own selfishness?
The Party moves toward the indicated passageway and steps through, easily unpegging the curtain in front of it. You find a long corridor ending in a double door. Turrey stalks down the hallway, drawing his hood up at the end and vanishing. He carefully squeaks the door open and peers inside.
He finds a stone room adorned with diaphanous blue hangings. Blue stained-glass windows depict masked executioners standing tall before open skies. The blue light and rippling wall hangings make the room appear to be underwater. Curtains hang in front of another door to the north, and at an entrance to a small balcony overlooking the Stormflood River.
Lounging on a blue couch is what appears at first glance to be a well-built androgynous human. After watching for a few seconds though Turrey notices that their long black hair seems to float around their head as if underwater, and their hands (that are currently holding a wine glass) have sharp claws instead of fingers. He doesn't recognise what manner of creature they are.
Turrey retraces his steps and surprises his waiting allies by speaking up from the cover of invisibility. He reports on the blue room, and on the almost Human creature waiting in there.
Félicité will advocate approaching and talking; Turrey can enter at the same time while invisible to provide surprise if they attack.
Turrey nods. "While I feel like sneaking further in, being on caught between you and that odd being--Another sahkil, perhaps?--seems foolish.
"That said, while The Eternal Rose urges us to look for the beauty in all beings, I doubt whatever-they-are is worth a conversation, especially given that they have a position of luxury within this twisted monastery. This might be a situation where claiming the element of surprise is worth it. If it IS a sahkil, I can't believe it will be friendly to our aims."
Kaldren recognises the creature as a Rusalka, a type of evil water-dwelling Fey. They are known to use their enchanting song to ensnare and humiliate, and like most fey are weak to cold-iron.
Félicité isn't convinced. Rusalka do have strange flowing hair and androgynous features, but Turrey specifically noted their defined muscles and obvious strength, and Rusalka are typically so slender as to be mistaken for ghosts. They also have pointed ears more like an elf.
"I'd prefer to at least try to see if we can avoid any more bloodshed - and by blood, I mean ours."
"I'm for talking as well. But if that goes wrong some bolts to the face does solve most of my problems."
The party heads into the blue room to face its curious occupant. When they enter, they find the statuesque humanoid idly combing their long blue-tinged hair. They don't look up at you, but hold up their hand to bid you to stop.
"I'm very sorry, but there's some private business going on through there, and my friends mustn't be disturbed"
When you show no signs of leaving, they sigh, put their comb down, and stand. Their rippling muscles leave no doubt as to their impressive strength, but they are also lithe and graceful as they move.
"Very well, I propose a challenge. I shall dance with one of you. A dominant leader moves their partner through the steps, but is not led. If, in our dance, I am led onto the balcony, I shall hurl myself into the river and impede you no longer. But, if I lead my partner onto the balcony first, you will leave the way you came. All, that is, except my partner, who shall hurl themselves into the river instead."
When they finish, they strike a pose of challenge, with their chin pointed slightly upward, and hold it.
Turrey blinks twice. "Well, that's sounds like a lovely alternative to bloodshed. I accept!"
"May the Eternal Rose bring beauty to our shared creation!"
He then steps up to take his partner's hand.
Lead the Dance ◆◆
You move gracefully but firmly in a dance, leading your dancing partner where you’d like to go. Attempt a Performance check to dance, with a DC equal to your dance partner’s Will DC.
Critical Success You command the lead and move your partner up to 10 feet. You then move to a square of your choice adjacent to your partner’s location.
Success As critical success, but you move your partner only 5 feet.
Failure You fail to move your dance partner.
Critical Failure As failure, and you embarrass yourself. You have a –2 circumstance penalty to Will saves and to your Will DC for 1 round.
"Splendid"
They carefully put their comb down on the sofa side-table and stand by it awaiting Turrey, holding their arms out for him to take them.
"My name is Lallinor Pond-Lily"
When Turrey takes their arms, they wait for a few seconds for the faint sounds of music wafting up from the ballroom to signal the end of a song, and then as soon as the next song starts, rush into action.
Turrey was ready for the music change, and takes the lead of the dance, marching Lallinor toward the balcony!
Turrey
Lallinor
“That’s the way.” Gregoth’s low voice is barely a rumble over the music, but the look he gives the stranger leaves little doubt as to his intents should they attempt to break their agreement. The way his hand rests on the hilt of the sword at his hip only further dispels any confusion.
Bellaluna watches with interest and amusement, but nevertheless jabs an elbow at Félicité ”You have feather fall? Y’know, just in case.”
"And I am Turrey Butterhill, Singer of Songs." He replies to his fascinating dance partner. "May I ask, why does one such as you serve ones such as these?"
As he dances, he begins to softly hum, harmonizing with the music that's drifting in.
Félicité sits down at the piano and looks at the keys. Nocturne, in B flat minor, a familiar voice echoed. Félicité looked over and saw Camille sitting beside her, and a sense of calm settled upon her soul despite the raucous conversation from the masque, intimidating threats from Gregoth, and the furious dance battle Turrey was engaged in.
The first B flat rings out across the hall, and Félicité dives into the piece with her eyes closed. Camille sits beside her, nodding approvingly as she breezes through the pencil-marked pages, murmuring his appreciation. He was a virtuoso; Félicité was, at best, an enthusiastic amateur. But he loved to listen to her play, and she felt no trace of self-consciousness as she played for him.
Félicité watches as Turrey and the creature dance. When the creature looks to have the edge, Félicité adjusts the tempo, just slightly faster or slower, to throw them off balance. When Turrey has the edge, she holds steady, letting the predictable flow of the music carry them to victory.
As the vestiges of the song reverberate across the hall, Camille rises from his seat and applauds. Félicité stands and curtsies to him. She reaches out for an embrace, but he has already begun fading. This time, however, Félicité feels no anger. She smiles like a beaming bride as he disappears from her view, and vows to reunite with him in the next world.
Turrey and Lallinor begin to dance, swirling around each other with poise. It takes a skilled eye to even see the surprise on their faces at their partner's skill.
Félicité is occupied playing the piano in the corner, a haunting melody that perfectly matches the movements of the dancers.
Turrey
Lallinor
After Turrey moves Lallinor graciously toward the balcony, it's Turrey's turn to be surprised, as the lithe dancer sweeps Turrey around with enough speed to make him dizzy.
Turrey
Lallinor
The pace picks up as Turrey produces footwork as fine as any he's ever seen, but Lallinor seems unbeatable as they spin Turrey around again with supernatural accuracy. A smile creeps onto their face as they approach the balcony door confidently leading Turrey.
Turrey
Lallinor
Both Turrey and Lallinor falter. Only a trained eye could even see it, but each feel a flutter in the other's arms and see their eyes flick to their feet for just a second. Even Félicité sees as she waits a fraction too long for a note.
Instead of stumbling, Turrey turns his mis-step into a masterful move perfectly timed with Félicité's music to whisk Lallinor onto the brink of the balcony, and Lallinor appears unable to maintain control of the dance!
Turrey
When Turrey again keeps control, and backs Lallinor toward the door while staying away from it him self, apparently effortlessly, Lallinor looks panicked. They make no attempt to lead the dance, content to merely hold on, and their hair reaches up toward Turrey like a dozen arms.
◆ Strike
◇ Grab
◆ Waving Hair
It grabs hold of the halfling in multiple places, the strands twisting with incredible force, enough to bruise and batter. They then lift Turrey up without any difficulty throw him through the balcony doors where he slides along the floor until he hits the railing with thump.
Lallinor struts and puts their hands on their hips.
"There, I have danced you through the balcony as we agreed, now hurl yourself into the River!"
"That was no dance at the end." Gregoth's voice is a low, dangerous rumble. The shadows behind him writhe and twist as if cast by the flickering light of an unseen torch. Fingers tighten around the hilt of the blade hanging from his side, and a rasping sound prefaces an inch of revealed steel. "Unless you want to be likewise struck and thrown, you will surrender now."
Turrey shakes his head, genuinely saddened by Lallinor's behavior.
"Please, you have incredible grace on the dancefloor. Indeed, I doubt I've ever seen better. Do not turn my admiration for your grace on your feet to embarrassment at a lack of grace in dealing faithfully.
"While I understand your reluctance to fling yourself from the balcony--and truth be told, Shelyn Herself might grieve the loss of your talent--show that you can have grace off the floor as well, and take yourself away from this dreary hateful place. Now. Then I will remember you, and tell your tale, as a Great Artist and not as a Simple Crook."
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Félicité lets the Picardy third ring through the hall as the piece ends, hoping that the more hopeful ending will cause Lallinor to reconsider her hostile stance.
"Just yesterday, I was a bitter woman. Filled with anger, I sought to destroy that which I could not possess."
Félicité stands up from the piano.
"This is a road that leads to utter destruction, Lallinor. Please reconsider."