DM Brainiac's Curtain Call

Game Master Brainiac

Stories of heroes have excited the masses for as long as the art of storytelling has existed. Often for such stories, the more grandiose and outlandish the medium, the better it is at conveying the epic struggles and legendary victories heroes achieve. Stories are still told in the Inner Sea region today of Iomedae’s acts leading up to her ascension to godhood, of Old-Mage Jatembe’s magical legacies, or of High King Taargick’s storied Quest for Sky. More recently, tales of still-living heroes who stood against the runelords of Varisia, who helped to close the demonic rift in the Worldwound, who saved the northern River Kingdoms from an invasion from the First World, and more have proven to be popular inspirations for more modern audiences.

Traditionally, legends of these heroes have arisen organically from their adventures inspiring bards and writers years after their exploits have settled into the annals of history. For Fallenta Sumac d’Venenoux, the passage of time between deed and stage seemed awkward at best and wasteful at worst. Why wait years for these legends to find their way to the stage when one could simply work with the actual heroes fresh off their most recent acts of derring-do and hire them as consultants for Kintargo’s biggest opera since the foundation of Ravounel?

And soon she will find just the right heroes for the show...

Curtain Call
An Adventure Path in Three Acts

Part 1: Nemesis

It's been six months since your greatest victory. After dealing with treachery and betrayal and facing down legions of cultists and monstrosities from the Dominion of the Black, you finally defeated Akhenaten, the Mind Thief, the Forgotten Pharaoh. You certainly have earned a break after everything you went through to foil his nefarious schemes!

All around the region, your friends, allies, and even people in the street have been sharing stories about your heroic exploits—you are, quite literally, the talk of the town. Your fame is even spreading beyond the region in which your previous adventures took place. Awkward hero worship, tall tales, and scandalous rumors about you have become an almost daily occurrence as your legend is already spreading to distant ports that none of you has ever visited before.

But it would seem that your nemesis' defeat may not have been as thorough as you had hoped, for as you sleep one night, you share a nightmare...

You stand on the edge of a yawning abyss, the world around you a swirling maelstrom of shifting sands and shadows. The desert of Osirion stretches out infinitely, its dunes rippling like a sea of golden death under the unyielding sun. In the distance, towering mountains loom, their jagged peaks scratching at the sky, a cruel reminder of the torment awaiting you.

Akhenaten’s laughter fills the cavern, an echoing cacophony that drowns out your thoughts. “You are trapped. And if you do not seek me out in the desert, if you do not confront me where I await, you will never be free of this nightmare. I will come for you, for all you love. The fear I instill shall be your undoing, and the Choke shall be your grave!”

The image of the cavern and the mocking pharaoh dissolve, and you awake with a start. The dream lingers, a gnawing conviction tightening around your chest. There is no doubt in your mind: unless you find “the Choke,” confront Akhenaten, and destroy him once and for all, he will unleash his wrath upon you and everyone you hold dear...

Nature: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Crafting (Cognitive Crossover): 1d20 + 23 ⇒ (18) + 23 = 41

Kharya jerks awake, fists clenched, chest heaving like a bellows as she tries to shake off the too-real sensation of being asphyxiated, strangled, Choked...

'The Choke... I know that name...'

She tousles her hair, then gathers it up to better squeeze into her helmet, otherwise still in an undershirt and shorts beneath the inhuman angles of her creation's helmet.

"Mornin' Inferno," the brazen dwarf rumbles, coughing to clear her throat, "Don't suppose you get bad dreams, do you girl?" A pulse of prickling heat on the back of her neck answers her before the crackling pop of Inferno's reply. "Maybe if you let me sleep in once in a while? You know the deal, can't do anything right without practice."

Kharya grins mirthlessly and flicks the side of her helmet with a dull thunk. "Inferno, this is serious. My dream... I think Akhenaten's still alive." "Niush, he hasn't been alive since the age of the Black Sphinx." Another thunk, harder, that just generates a sizzling chuckle. "You're here to power the suit, not to offer your dubious wisdom." "Sorry, sorry. We'll stick with only your dubiousness."

"I think we didn't kill him hard enough," Kharya continues, her tone finally convincing Inferno to take her seriously. "In my dream, there were mountains, looked like the Shining Mountains if my head's not just being messed with again. He was taunting me about the Choke. When we needed the special clay to contain that Div, it came from just upstream of the River Sphinx, right?" "You didn't walk me there, Niush, we're both just trusting the supplier." Inferno's voice is excited though. "Not the point, we didn't go there, but that waterfall, it covers a cave they called-" "Yeah. The Choke. Okay, one question though: Why is he telling you where to find him? He's gotta know you're just gonna round up the gang again, right? Probably without Izz-" "Inferno, don't-" "Sorry sorry, without she-who-will-be-consigned-to-nightmares-and-oblivion. Still seems like a bad plan."

"His trap can't kill us if we don't know where it is." Kharya stands. "We'll need to get the others, probably they had the same dreams, but if not, we'll convince them. Just need to splash some water on my face and get dressed first." She places the tips of her strong, blunt fingers gently against the cheekplate of her helmet. "I'll be back soon."

Nature vs DC 26: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14

Farrina sits up abruptly, gasping for air. It takes her a moment or two to accept that the lavishly furnished room she's rented is entirely empty except for the ticking of the elegent clock on the shelf.

"F+@* me," she spits out before reaching for a brown glass bottle on the nightstand. Two hefty swallows seems to still the tremors and she throws back the thick blankets. Slipping into soft slippers, she steps over to the sole source of chaos in the room - the writing desk.

With a wave of her perfectly manicured hand, the candles arrayed over the parchment and scroll-strewn worktop alight, filling the area with a warm glow.

Delicate fingers shift the pages that cover the surface of the desk until they alight upon a single sheet. A practiced hand has drawn a multifaceted crystal in the middle of the parchment and notes written in the entertainer's serpentine scrawl surround the image.

"Never should have taken the job," she mutters, lifting the sheet to take a closer look at it. "Doesn't matter, though - the f&$!er's dust."

Is it possible that ...?

"He's gone!" she insists in a voice that cracks just a bit with her attempt at conviction. "It's just a f%$&ing nightmare! It's not like it's the first one."

She drops the parchment back onto the stack and returns to the bed, grabbing the bottle again.

"Because if he wasn't, I'm sure the others would have contacted me by now."

Tim gasps awake in his rumpled and twisted sheets. "Erastil's a+$~*~*@! That was a new one..." Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rolls out of bed. The halfling was accustomed to bad dreams about those he had put in the ground--it was one of the reasons he had officially gotten out of "the business"--but at least he didn't regret this one.

"Sodding vampires, mucking around in peoples' minds."

With feet on the floor, he darts quick glances at the door and windows, ensuring that there are no telltale marks of entry. Habit from the old days, but a good one.

"Why'd I let that fool talk me into drinking Sauerton Red last night? I need a sausage before my head leaves my shoulders."

Cassiel awakens with a start, the haunting words of Akhenaten still echoing in his mind. He bolts up, steadying his breath as he processes the vivid nightmare. Despite the urgency gnawing at him, Cassiel knows how to calm himself. He must begin his day as he always does-with prayer. Rising from his bed, he kneels before a small shrine to Sarenrae in the corner of his room, the first rays of dawn filtering through the curtains. With hands clasped and eyes closed, he offers his morning prayers, seeking guidance and strength for the trials ahead.

As he finishes, he feels the comforting warmth of Sarenrae’s light within him and he rises from his prayers, calm. Quickly donning his armor, he grabs his shield and blade and makes his way to the door.

As he flings it open, he is surprised to find Kharya standing just outside, her fist raised mid-air, ready to knock. The towering man tilts his head to the side, confusion evident.

"Uhh-Kharya?" he says, a hint of surprise in his voice. "You too...?" He trails off, already sensing the answer.

Esirelle wakes up in a foul mood. She knows those mountains. She's sure of it. But from where? Stupid mountains. She was never good at geography. Which was ironic, considering she'd traveled from Kintargo, through the Arch of Aroden, up the Sellen River and finally back down to Osirion. But her job wasn't to know where they were, just where they were going, and to find someone to get them there. And that she's plenty good at. But damn, it's annoying to know something is somewhere, and still not be able to do anything about it.

She stalks out of her room, grunting in annoyance. Mornings have never really been her thing. Maybe after a cup of tea or two. She scowls before anyone has a chance to talk to her.

No chance to make that knowledge check, even having been through Osirian lol

Cerulean wakes with a start, shockingly not enough to wake their bed fellow, who is still quite alseep from the wild night of drink and debauchery. The face they had worn the night before had faded in the sleepless hours replaced with their true form. Sliding out from the sheets, in a practiced dance to not wake the other person, Cerulean stalked around the room to gather their belongings hastily strewn about in the aforementioned chaotic night.

First came the undergarments of course; frilled, lacey, delicate, and torn slightly which means another set would need to be bought. Not even sure why they bothered it always happened thanks to the drink. As they stood their eyes locked with their own in the mirror, gazing over their naked true form. The unnatural shocks of white in their pelt, patches left barren from so many experiments gone wrong, the mangy look to it all, so thin despite doing 'better' these last few months.

'You look like a poor taxidermy animal dear. No one wants an Ugly-'
The voice in the back of their mind began. Causing their jawline to stiffen and the shoft to ripple over them, leaving Cerulean standing in a different skin. Human skin, still stark naked for the entire world, but fuller, richer, better. Closing their eyes they breathed deep and fought back the horrid thoughts that encroached in that all too familiar voice brought back alongside that withering nightmare.

"No ugly thoughts, those only belong to ugly things and there are none of those -breath-"here."

So focused on the lingering nightmare, and making their new skin perfect, they didn't notice the tears rolling down their face, until a groggy voice sounded from under the sheets.

"D-don't worry dear, just going to the lavatory. I'll be back soon." They lied openly, pressing their palm into their eyes to wipe away the tears. The words seemed enough to lul the half asleep man back into his torpor. Giving Cerulean plenty of time to dress, gather their belongings and abscond out of the abode with narry a trace.

Retrieving their trusty Alpaca companion from the stables, Cerulean takes off into the pre-dawn world, once again running from the embrace of another, but this time it's important. Also they needed to get new lingerie....

Even without magical influence, Farrina's dreams are never something she cares to share with those around her. 'Friends', most people would call them, but the mage doesn't really have those. She allows no one to breach the bubble of her staged persona.

She has acquaintances, though - lots of those. And people she's worked with. Some she wouldn't mind working with again and some that ... well, let's just say that she wouldn't pause if she walked by an alley and they were crying for help from within.

Cerulean, though ... She'd felt somewhat of a kinship with the strange alchemist.

So, after receiving the troubling request, Farrina set about sending out magical messages to those that she knew were close enough. And letters to those that weren't.

A tavern that they were all familiar with. A day. A time.

-----

As the others arrive, they locate the entertainer waiting in a room set aside for private parties. A half-empty bottle of wine and a full glass sit in front of her as she waits. A small red sphere rolls from one hand back to the other, over and under in a mesmerizing display. Those familiar with her recognize it as a nervous habit she tends towards when contemplating a troubling problem.

Today her hair is midnight black and styled in an elaborate updo and her ensemble is a clash of orange and puce with black accents. To show that she's what she would call 'on-the-clock', her makeup is done up enough to make any self-aware street-walker proud.

"So," she opens with her stage smile firmly in place, "I take it you had the lovely dream as well?"

Cassiel, ever earnest, shakes his head, a slight frown creasing his brow. "No, Farrina. It wasn’t lovely at all—it was terrible. Did you have a different dream?" His tone serious, missing the sarcasm in Farrina’s voice.

Glancing at the wine, he adds, "Are youe already drinking wine at this hour? The matter seems serious enough that we should not be dulling our senses."

Timdok is quietly building a model of a Andoran battleship on his desk when a paper flutters in through the window and lands next to the stack of balsam.

The halfling delicately unfolds the message with a sliver of wood, careful not to touch the paper. His brow furrows as he reads the short message.

"For the love of...here we go again."

--------

When Tim strolls into the tavern, it's with an air of familiarity. "Farrina, looking lovely as always," he greets his former teammate. "What do you know about these dreams? I'd love to get this over with quickly, so I can get back to my retirement."

The entertainer tips her head slightly towards Timdok. "Thank you, Luv - I do try. And to answer your question; I know nothing about this dream other than it interrupted a planned somnolent excursion involving a certain well-toned stage dancer ..."

Her gaze drifts away and she sighs in disappointment. A moment passes before she snaps back to current company.

"And you, my dear Cas ... You should know that a Gentleman simple never, ever brings up the subject of a Lady's age, weight, or drinking habits." Slender fingers wrap around the delicate stem of her wine glass.

"And as our companion, Kharya, would clarify, well-designed machines require regular lubrication." She lifts the glass in a toasting gesture. "And if my mind can be described as anything, it would be an incredibly complex, powerful, and devious machine."

With a broad wink, she drains half the glass.

Timdok grabs a short glass from the sideboard and pours a slug from the flask he keeps in his vest:

"A friend of mine, a distiller consecrated to Cayden Cailean, once told me that the body is like a copper still: wine corrodes it, liquor polishes it."

Raising the glass, he addresses Cas, "To you, my righteous friend. May the Dawnflower scorch our throats and our enemies' fortunes."

Cassiel watches as Timdok strolls into the tavern with his usual air of nonchalance. "Timdok, my friend. Good to see you, though I wish it were under better circumstances."

"And you, my dear Cas ... You should know that a Gentleman simple never, ever brings up the subject of a Lady's age, weight, or drinking habits."

Cassiel takes note that he's offended Farrina and starts to apologize. "Farrina. I didn’t mean to offend. I’m simply concerned about all of us staying sharp, especially with Akhenaten’s shadow looming over us again. My apol-"

As Farrina drains the remaining half of her wine and starts everyone else drinking, Cassiel’s smile falters ever so slightly. His eyes narrow just a fraction. For a moment, he hesitates, clearly wrestling with whether to say something or let it go.

Taking a deep breath, he decides on a middle ground. "Farrina. I trust your judgment." he says, his voice calm but firm.

"To you, my righteous friend. May the Dawnflower scorch our throats and our enemies' fortunes."

With a warm smile, he places a hand over his heart and inclines his head toward Timdok. "Thank you, Timdok." he says sincerely. "May the Dawnflower’s light guide us all, and may we stand strong together against whatever darkness we face."

"A friend of mine, a distiller consecrated to Cayden Cailean, once told me that the body is like a copper still: wine corrodes it, liquor polishes it."

Farrina considers the words for a moment or so before giving a nod.

"Corroded, corrupted, potato, potaato," she says with a grin and drains the rest of her glass. "I'll accept the label with no offense and revel in my very corruption."

"Farrina. I didn’t mean to offend. I’m simply concerned about all of us staying sharp, especially with Akhenaten’s shadow looming over us again. My apol-"

As Farrina drains the remaining half of her wine and starts everyone else drinking, Cassiel’s smile falters ever so slightly. His eyes narrow just a fraction. For a moment, he hesitates, clearly wrestling with whether to say something or let it go. Taking a deep breath, he decides on a middle ground. "Farrina. I trust your judgment." he says, his voice calm but firm.

"And speaking of offending; I'm horribly difficult to offend and a master at horribly offending, so none taken, my dear Cas."

She refills her glass from the bottle and gives another wink at the champion. "And if you're trusting in my judgement, then I'll take appropriate pity upon your wisdom."

"And if you're trusting in my judgement, then I'll take appropriate pity upon your wisdom."

Though he knows she means it in jest, the word strikes a chord in him, reminding him of the humility he strives to maintain. As usual, he slow to respond. He likes to take a moment and think through his responses before speaking. So he takes a moment to collect his thoughts, his expression softening.

After a brief pause, he responds with a gentle, almost solemn tone. "I don’t deserve anyone’s pity, Farrina. I’m just a servant of the Dawnflower, doing what I can to bring light to the world. Any wisdom I have is borrowed from her grace."

The man's serious response causes Farrina to turn to Timdok and raise an eyebrow.

"I've said it before, but at the risk of repeating myself ... We have got to get this man drunk at some point or another. I would buy the drinks and make a not-insignificant contribution to any selected church to experience that show."

"Mere association with us risks the need of an atonement, I think," Timdok finishes off his drink and moves around the table, siting where he can easily see the entrance.

Esirelle enters, marching toward the table with her companions. Hands on her hips, she looks over everyone. "All right, people, that's enough of the drink. We have work to be about, and it can wait until afterward. I take it we all had a dream. Of a place we didn't quite recognize? So what do we want to do about it?"

Cassiel feels a wave of relief wash over him as Esirelle enters and immediately shifts the focus to the matter at hand and offering a firm reinforcement of his suggestion to do away with the alcoholic beverages. He gives her a grateful nod, appreciating her no-nonsense approach.

He had already put much thought into this subject and speaks loudly. "First, we should discuss whether we had the same vision or if it was different. From what you recall, the details may be important."

Once it's confirmed everyone more or less recalls the same thing, he suggests "We need to piece together what we know about this dream and the place it showed us. If the Choke is where Akhenaten is drawing us, we should start by researching everything we can about it. Historical records, local legends, anything that might give us an edge. If we can locate it and understand its significance, we’ll be better prepared for whatever trap he’s set."

"Does anyone know anything useful about the location or the Choke?"

"Why are we wasting time with whether or not the lush is being a lush?" Kharya grates through her visor.

"We all had the same dream; we all know that that means the job we agreed to isn't done yet. Anyone want to go back on their word?"

She pans her helm across the room.

"No? Then here we are, pacted and bound." She unfurls a map and jabs a heavy finger at a mountain range. "The Choke is here, upstream of some quality potting clay. It's a cave in the Shining Mountains, used to be covered by a waterfall, so it's possible it'll be hidden again, but the land will still bear the marks. How long before you're packed?"

Cassiel listens intently as Kharya speaks, nodding in agreement with her approach. When she finishes, he steps forward, his voice steady and full of conviction.

"The Dawnflower will provide what we need. We’ve faced worse before, and we’ve come out stronger. If the Choke is where we must go, then we should waste no time. Every moment we delay is a moment Akhenaten could use against us."

He glances around at his companions, determination shining in his eyes. "I’m ready to leave immediately. We’ve prepared for this our whole lives, whether we realized it or not. Let’s gather what we need and set out at once."

Looking around he asks, "Wait. Where is Cerulean?"

"Hold your chargers, folks," Timdok says to his eager companions. "It was a dream! Sure, we all had it, but that vampire messed with all of our minds. No wonder there's some connection."

Lacing his fingers behind his head, he leans back, "Look, can't we just enjoy a nice catch-up? Without running off on some errand? Or right into a trap?" The halfling quirks his lips. "I just got the sand out of my favorite boots."

Farrina rolls her eyes and pours the remainder of the bottle into her glass.

"Look, Timdok," she says with roll of her shoulders, "I'm as much of a denialist as you'll find. But the statistical chances of us all having the same nightmare at the same time are so infinitesimal as to be non-existent."

She takes a sip and savors the flavor before continuing.

"Therefore, it was either someone that has the magical ability to influence our dreams which is not insignificant." She rocks her head back and forth. "I'll grant that it's not cosmic, god-like power, but it's not a trifle."

She turns her focus towards the halfling.

"The only other option is ... " She pauses and frowns. "Well, really, that's the only possibility."

Another swallow and her wine is gone.

"I don't see that someone like that wishes us good fortune, so it behooves us to seek them out and ..." One hand reaches up and magical sparks surround her fingers. The flashing illumination reflects upon her face, painting her with a maniacal light. "... give them a piece of our mind, no?"

As if on que, or at least fashionably late as always, Cerulea pushes through the door. Adorned in a colorful arrangement of garb, fitting the local style of their latest temporary residence, seemingly Northern Osirion.

Strutting across the room, those who look could see what makeup they had put on the familiar darkly tanned human form they often took alongside this group had run slightly. "Here I thought the region was supposed to be dry, and yet now I look the fool due to an untimely rainstorm." They pull a stained handkerchief from their blouse pocket and sit with a huff to dab away the ruined work. Their voice careying the ever present, 'higher than thou' lofty tones, certainly not upset with the situation at all. "All that hard work to eqrn an easy life away from that cretin and I can't even enjoy it properly without interruption."

The various crystal vials upon their uniform clink together as they shift this way and that, the brightly colored liquids inside swirling dangerously. Medicine, poison, bombs, paints, and who knows what other dastardly concoctions being their specialty to the group. Once Cerulean deems their face salvaged, they pull a small hand mirror from the bottomless pouch at their hip and begin redoing the work. Exuding an air that nothing else in the world matters more right now including present company and the dire threat that they'll soon face.

"I'll gave that fools head again for delaying my dreams of luxury."

Finally catching the eyes of the others at the table, Cerulean glanced up over the mirror, smiling thinly at Farrina then to the empty wine glass.
"I'm glad you were able to get in touch with everyone and bring this rendevous together dearest. But do share the libations."

Sliding the mirror back into the gaudy bag at their hip, while doing so they start pulling forth a veritable platter of food and drink placing them on the table before sliding them to their intended recipients.

"Who am I kidding, you all still remember, My libations are better than any common swill. And you all look dreadfully thin, you must eat better."

For Kharya this early in the day a thick porcilen cup which Cerulean raps the bottom of gently against the table, causing some alchemical reagent inside to activate quickly bringing the contents to a perfectly warm froth. Inside is an especially dark blend of strong smelling coffee, with a hint of licorice taste, obviously spiked, for those hard mornings and late evenings. +2 item bonus to RK: religion checks

For Timdok an elegant twisted whiskey glass filled a knuckle deep with gin and tonic with a delightful chocolatey twang to it curtosy of the shaved coco on top, sipping at the drink makes him feel light as a breeze and might a bit peckish. Gain a +5-foot item bonus to your Speed for 10 minutes and +1 item bonus to Acrobatics checks to Balance, Maneuver in Flight, and Squeeze.

For Esirelle a simple crystal tea cup with hot toddy with a distinct whiskey taste accented by floral fragrances that are soothing to the body and mind, sending a warming tingly sensation all the way out to her extremities. +1 item bonus to saving throws against emotion effects and Visual effects

For Farrina a tall thin flute filled with a rich white grape wine of a magically aged vintage that she would realize quickly would require a moment to breath and savour the entire aromatic entourage before enjoying. gain +1 item bonus to saving throws against spells from the illusion school for 10 minutes.

For Cassiel, a similar crystal tea cup, with a slightly larger handle however, filled more of the hot toddy mixture, but it seems Cerulean has accounted for the knight's distaste for alcholol and made it a virgin much to their dismay. Contrary to Esirelle's mixture Cassiel's has a distinct cherry and walnut undertone making it far more earthy in tones, in a pleasant way. +1 item bonus to saving throws against emotion effects and Auditory effects

Everyone also recieves a small tea cup sized plate of an enigma of bread, somehow packed to the gills with nuts and fruit, while remaining moist, light and fluffy.If eaten you benefit from all the food and water you need for a day. In addition you gain a +1 item bonus to Athletics checks to Climb, Force Open, and Swim, and to Fortitude saving throws against being sickened. The number of minutes you can Hustle changes to your Constitution modifier × 20. These additional benefits last for 4 hours.

Curiously absent is anything in front of Cerulean themselves, which seems a familiar bad habit when serving the group. As even after all they've been through they are hesitant to eat alongside the group.

"There everyone with their favorites. I don't suppose we're to take off right away though so if you'd all indulge me a bit more we should have a meal as well. I mean it's been dreadfully too long since we've last arranged it feels. We can plot and ploy, and set out in the morning to do whatever errands we need before running off to vanquish whatever evil has decided to wear that old mask."

Cassiel gently places his large hand on Cerulean's shoulder, his touch soft and reassuring. With a warm smile he accepts the tea and says "Thank you, Cerulean. You always know just what I need. I appreciate you always looking out for my well being as well as the rest of the group."

"The only other option is ... " She pauses and frowns. "Well, really, that's the only possibility."

Cassiel furrows his brow as Farrina pauses, her words hanging in the air. His mind immediately goes to the one person who has caused them so much trouble before. "You don't mean to say it's Isabella, do you?" he asks, his voice tinged with concern. The thought of their former companion still haunting them lingers heavily in his mind. "I had hoped she had realized her mistakes and we haven't heard from her because she has taken up on a new path."

His head slowly swings to Kharya at the mention of Isabella, it was hard for him not to flashback to the moment in that chamber where Cassiel's belief in redemption led him to vouch for Isabella, despite Kharya's deep mistrust. Kharya could have ended it all back then, avoiding the terrible moments to come. But Cassiel had to give Isabella a chance.

Kharya had been right, of course.

Devastated by the betrayal, Cassiel still pleaded with Isabella to turn back from her dark path. She hesitated but ultimately chose to escape, leaving him to grapple with the consequences of his faith. Though the betrayal left a lasting scar, it also deepened the bond between Cassiel and Kharya, as they came to understand each other's perspectives, even if they didn't always agree.

"You don't mean to say it's Isabella, do you?" he asks, his voice tinged with concern. The thought of their former companion still haunting them lingers heavily in his mind. "I had hoped she had realized her mistakes and we haven't heard from her because she has taken up on a new path."

"I 'don't mean to say' anything," Farrina purrs back. "If I mean to say something, I f$~@ing say it. All I can speak to is the level of magic it would require to create a shared nightmare. It might be that traitorous b@~!% or it might be someone else with access to magic on that level. I have no way of knowing."

She nibbles on one of the dainties provided by Cerulean.

"And, perhaps, if we'd fried said b#$&$ like I wanted to then we might all be on our merry ways without complications."

Looking up, she gives the alchemist a smile and a nod.

"Thank you so much for the provender, Luv," she says. "You always know the perfect pairings."

Cassiel listens to Farrina's sharp response with his usual calm composure, unshaken by her use of colorful, foul language. With a gentle and reassuring tone, almost akin to a parent soothing an animated child, he says "I know you're frustrated with how the situation was handled, Farrina, and I respect your directness. But let's not let anger cloud our judgment."

"Perhaps this Isabella at all. We shouldn't jump to conclusions just yet. There's always a chance she chose a different path, and this could be entirely unrelated."

"What’s done is done, and now, we must follow the path before us. Let the light guide us, and trust that it will reveal the truth in time."

"Truth is perception and perception is truth, my dear Cas," Farrina replies with a smile. "And I'm a master at controlling perception. It is, after all, one of the five balancing aspects of magic."

"Right: Perception, sparkles, cuss words, bat guano, and strange smells. The five aspects of magic!" Tim jokes to disrupt the moral quandaries that the party has gotten themselves into. Again.

"Never underestimate the effect of perfectly timed sparkles or swearing," Farrina counters with a chuckle.

Kharya's mask doesn't change as Isabella is brought up; only the planes and points of Inferno show as they flatly state, "We're just spinning loose gears without a diagram. We need to get hands on to actually find where they fit."

As usual, Cassiel nods in agreement with Kharya's assessment. Without another word, he calmly begins gathering his belongings, picking up his shield, blade, helm, and pack. He moves towards the door and stops, waiting for the others to follow.

Cassiel gently places his large hand on Cerulean's shoulder, his touch soft and reassuring. With a warm smile he accepts the tea and says "Thank you, Cerulean. You always know just what I need. I appreciate you always looking out for my well being as well as the rest of the group."

Cerulean takes a pause before nodding quietly to Cassiel, "Enjoy the drink Cassiel, we should all get reacquainted before we go chasing ghosts."

Turning their attention back to the bickering at hand they gently furrow an eyebrow in agreement with Farrina for the most part.

"Right: Perception, sparkles, cuss words, bat guano, and strange smells. The five aspects of magic!" Tim jokes to disrupt the moral quandaries that the party has gotten themselves into. Again.

Letting loose a short chuckle behind the back of their hand Cerulean nods, "You shouldn't underestimate the power of fecal matter or related things. Why many perfumes and medicines use the anal glands of beavers or musk-rodents. Yet no one can deny the effective results."

Kharya's mask doesn't change as Isabella is brought up; only the planes and points of Inferno show as they flatly state, "We're just spinning loose gears without a diagram. We need to get hands on to actually find where they fit."

Cerulean takes another gander at the map, "I take it you've at least got an approximate location my passionate f-acquaintance." It almost slipped, but cerulean remembered that Kharya was likely as not the only one that probably didn't consider them as a friend, with fair reason.

"If we spend today gathering what information we can, and plan out a suitable route that fits all of our traveling needs. Then I can have provisions prepared for our travels by tomorrow morning. I'll be riding Bloodrender -er.. Leonard as you've all suggested I rename him. But his saddle might sit an additional smaller companion if the need arises."

"Cerulean's right," Esirelle decides, after considering everyone's words. "Let's see what we can learn today and then we can set out tomorrow. Plan to stay in the same inn tonight, everyone. We want to be ready to go first thing, but also be there to help each other if we need it. We should plan to set a guard, too. If we're having dreams about her, she may know where we are."

"I'll take first watch," Timdok valiantly offers. "If I don't get 8 hours uninterrupted sleep, I'll be as grumpy as Kharya in a thunderstorm."

"Good it gives me and Farrina time to catch up, and let the busiest bees bring honeyed words to our ears." They smiled wryly to the mage across the table.

Then looked at Timdok, "Anything you'd like for your night vigil."

It seems to finally register that Cass was still at the door, "Cassiel please. Always so eager to abscond from conversation the poor boy. Come now we're not sleeping out in the wet like dredged up animals."

"The luminous memory of your beauty will keep me warm," Timdok makes a mock bow to the alchemist. "And memories of last time we had to do this will keep me awake. *Sigh*"

Quickly finishing his refreshments, the halfling readies himself for the start of the vigil.

"Cassiel please. Always so eager to abscond from conversation the poor boy. Come now we're not sleeping out in the wet like dredged up animals."

Cassiel had been standing at the door, waiting for others to get things in order so they could get moving, but Cerulean's words gave him pause. With a nod, he takes note that no one else is quite ready to leave yet and steps away from the threshold and returns to his seat. He sets down his gear and picks up his tea, savoring the warmth and earthy flavor, and settles in for the conversation. "You're right, Cerulean. There's wisdom in taking a moment to rest and gather our thoughts before we rush off. Drink and eat while we can, we do not what time ahead we will have to do so."

As he sips his tea, Cassiel finds himself staring at the halfling. He had always admired Timdok's effortless charm and the way compliments seemed to flow so naturally from his tongue. That level of endearment was hard for Cassiel and it was a skill he found elusive, despite his best efforts. He often marveled at how Timdok could lift the spirits of those around him with just a few well-chosen words, something he himself had yet to master.

When the topic of watches comes up, he feels more at ease and quickly raises his hand. "I'll take the second watch after Timdok. I'm happy to stand with you during your watch if would enjoy some company if you need helping staying awake. I would not want you grumpy tomorrow given how much their is to do." he offers.

"Good. Who's next?" Esirelle asks, briskly setting up a sleeping watch order. "Cassiel, you still see well in the dark? You can relieve Timdok. Kharya, you're next. You have the best nightvision. Then Cerulean, so you can prepare your vials, and Farrina, so you can prep your spells. That work for everyone? Then everyone else to bed. We have things to be about in the morning"

Asking around Sothis, you learn that the area around the Choke has been claimed by a group of desert giant bandits who overwhelmed and subjugated the kholos who dwelt in the territory before them. You keep that information in mind as you head out. You travel down the River Sphinx for about 80 miles, then turn east down a seemingly unremarkable dry riverbed that winds into the Shining Mountains.

Once you leave the comforts offered by the River Sphinx, the harshness of the arid environment strikes at once. The further east you travel, the more rugged the land surrounding the riverbed becomes, shifting from desert sands to wind-gouged rocky badlands. Thorny cacti, some of considerable size, are the predominant form of vegetation, but even they grow sparse the closer you draw to the rugged cliffsides of the Shining Mountains. All throughout, the wind churns and blows, lashing the land and filling the air with periodic, mournful howls as it rushes over hollows in the rocky landscape.

Near the end of your trek, a particularly towering and ragged mountain resolves into the point of your journey as the riverbed’s route visibly leads up to the base of a rugged, sheer cliff with jagged tors and narrow ledges. A thin gorge cuts into the cliffside.

As soon as you come in sight of the gorge, you come across a small band of kholos. A group of four desert giants lead the kholos; these giants stride loudly at the rear and drive the kholos forward whenever they lapse or tarry, barking orders or threateningly swiping at them with scimitars. The giants have yet to notice your presence.

Cerulean joins the party the next morning in horribly inappropriate attire for traveling in a desert, that is. They are dressed in a fantastic smoldering outfit made partially of elemental fire and many ruffles. The ebony ensemble casually flairs as if the coal-like texture of the fabric might ignite if a sudden wind were to take to it. Cerulean's traveling companions would know well however that the many fluffy folds of the outfit were perfect for hiding their alchemical masterpieces.

Astride the mighty alpaca bloodrender Leonard, Cerulean journeys at pace with the rest of the group, a dainty umbrella hoisted overhead to keep the sun off of their fair skin as they ride. When they come upon the roving giants, Cerulean speaks up at the sight of what's happening to the Kholo.

"Ah.. so they're slavers as well as tyrants, how droll." The words are practically hissed. "I have an idea, you know this fantastic cape isn't 'just' for show and I could likely distract them long enough for the rest of you to get in close for a good strike. If dispatching the brutes is the plan that is?"

Timdok adjusts the cloth wrapped around his face that keeps the sand out of his nose and mouth. "We can slip behind them if you distract, my dear."

The (former?) assassin quietly studies the leftmost giant, noticing a hitch in its step that whispers "weakness" to him.

I'll Mark for Death the leftmost giant.

Cassiel listens to the plan and then glances at Cerulean, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Cerulean, your plan has merit, but I won’t let you face those giants alone." he says, his voice resolute. "If you’re to be the distraction, then I’ll be right there with you, protecting you from any harm. I'm not as quick or quiet as the rest of you anyway, especially in this armor."

He takes a deep breath, and with a flash of divine energy, Cassiel's back glows with radiant light as a pair of feathered angelic wings unfurl. "Let me carry you in from above. I will set you down in front of you and you can continue the distraction as planned. Timdok and the others can strike from behind. This way, you won’t be alone up front, and I’ll be there to shield you from any danger."

He motions Cerulean forward so he can pick them up.

Cerulean thinks on that for a moment before disembarking Leonard.

"You know that may add to the effect, two angelic figures descending from the heavens heralding the freedom of the plighted Kholo. I rather like the ring to it... you think they'll make a play of our exploits one day?"

They stow the parasol on Leonard's saddle moving over to Cassiel, "Do make good time I'm not sure how long I'll be able to hold their attention and once they've figured out the act it'll be ineffective."
Draping an arm around Cas, they make themselves ready to be carried, Cassiel could note Cerulean was deceptively light despite all of their equipment. And their appearance begins to slightly shift towards one that may be more favorable to the giants, as if they were a long descended shrunken kin of theirs.

"Onward my angelic companion, we've got hearts to steal."

Once we get within 120 feet gonna use two actions to activate my Cape of Grand Entrances and all creatures(allies included sorry Cass) within 120ft must make a dc 25 will save or fall under the Enthrall spell. Will continue to sustain it flapping, fluttering, and dancing with across the sand till the group acts or i'm attacked lol

Esirell sighs. "I suppose it's the least we can do. OK, get to your places everyone. Showtime is in one minute!"

She creeps closer to the giants, looking for a good hiding spot 30 feet away.

Stealth (trained): 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (16) + 17 = 33

She's about to offer her opinion on the subject of spending their precious resources to free hyenafolk that are no-doubt flea-ridden when Farrina thinks better of it. Her companions have expressed on more than one occasion the proclivity for altruistic activities. While she doesn't see the benefit, she's long since accepted that the argument would be fruitless and frustrating.

And it is the right thing to do.

"Stuff a sock in it," she mutters. She then takes a deep breath and moves forward with the others.

Will Save vs Enthrall DC 25: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (3) + 15 = 18

Even being aware of the magical effect, the entertainer is still captivated with Cerulean's presence.

Kharya smashes her fist into her palm with a dull **clunk**

"Giant slavers?" The fiery glow of her visor flares as Inferno agrees. "Means there's no questions of what to do with them. First we should... Wow..."

Will: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (1) + 21 = 22
Sigh, let's just not start this way
Hero Point: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (1) + 21 = 22

...Fine, let's start this way.

EDIT
Realized Overdrive doesn't have the Concentrate tag, so it's just at a -2
Overdrive: 1d20 + 23 - 2 ⇒ (10) + 23 - 2 = 31

Will: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (8) + 15 = 231d20 + 15 ⇒ (19) + 15 = 341d20 + 15 ⇒ (6) + 15 = 211d20 + 15 ⇒ (10) + 15 = 25

Esirelle gets close to the giants without being spotted. As the rest of you draw near, Cerulean Skies debuts their flashy entrance. Two of the giants stare, transfixed, while the other two resist! Those two shout and raise their blades!

Esirelle may act first!

"Action!" Esirelle calls out as the battle begins, stealing time from the giants and transferring it to Timdok. Her stomach clenches. No matter how many battles she begins, even with these close friends who all know each other again, her nerves always get her a little at the start.

Cast 5th-rank synaptic pulse (DC 30 Will), one-action cast time skip on Timdok

Hmm. I definitely don't have a lot of area damage spells...

Will: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (20) + 15 = 351d20 + 15 ⇒ (11) + 15 = 261d20 + 15 ⇒ (15) + 15 = 301d20 + 15 ⇒ (2) + 15 = 17

One giant ignores Esirelle’s spell, another is completely stunned, and the other two are affected to varying degrees. The hostile action breaks the fascination.

”It’s them! The ones the Slumbering King warned us about!” the first giant shouts. She turns and flees the area! The ones that can still act stagger over to Esirelle. One is able to attack the halfling with his blade, but she dodges away.

Scimitar Blitz: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (2) + 21 = 231d20 + 16 ⇒ (6) + 16 = 22