CladissaVelorryan's page

... And recoils in horror as she imagines the feel of her claws digging into his flesh. A panicked "Mrrowwrrr" escapes her throat followed by a hiss and a spit.

She twists and leaps away from him as his scent fills her nostrils. She plummets briefly, but snags a tree branch with her sharp talons and pulls herself onto the limb. She keeps moving, bounding and leaping from branch to branch until she hits the soft ground.

Panic sets in as she realizes she's in an unfamiliar area, fenced in, though she spies a gap in a tall hedge. She starts toward it, but the scent of cool water and a powerful thirst draws her first toward a calm pool nearby. Clinging to the shadows, she slinks along the edge of the wall to reach the clear pool. She sticks her head over the still water, planning to lap up a refreshing drink, but she catches her reflection, nearly fully feline..

That's not me... Not anymore. Thats. NOT. ME!!

Cladissa giggles a bit over Gianluca's enthusiasm for the manor's revised decor. When he mentions buying a hat of disguise to investigate Hestram, she thinks, concentrates, and suddenly brings up the image of her old catlike self.

"Huh. I can still do this. Well, this should make things easier going incognito."

Earlier
Cladissa shudders once. "Ugh, don't call Auronee 'Lady Farwynd,' please. That's my mom's title. And of course, if it means saving lives, I understand the necessity. It's just that... I'd like to know. You know?"

Did I miss something?

This is very sad...

Okay. Thanks, it's working now.

What the Dickens!?!

:(

No love for the nat 20?

Jelani, you able to go on roll20? I have some ideas.

Poor reading comprehension on my part

Really, Gianluca?

As for the hex...I could let you retrain it into a grand hex or whatever they are called at level 10?

That seems fair.

Come to think of it, with everyone dogpiling him like that, I should Evil Eye his AC. I get at least one round of him at a -4 regardless if he saves.

Problem is, all the remaining witch's hexes are junk.

I could take Aura of Purity and clear the stench of the demon in a 10' radius around me!

(Honestly, I doubt I'll take it unless I can use it this fight, since knowing my luck a stench attack will never come up again for the rest of the campaign.)

If you want to say I hit him with Misfortune, we could go with that, but I'm afraid Sabrina will die if the guy gets two more sets of actions. (And I'm also afraid he'll get away again).

I'll look into something I might swap Slumber for.

Reeeeally sorry, Jelani. I'll do the same, if that's a concern for you.

Did you want me to run Preston?

Yes! Congratulations!

Thanks, everyone for your thoughts and prayers.

Sabrina, sorry that I forgot you were wild shaped. I edited my post.

Guys,

My mother-in-law passed away unexpectedly today. I probably won't be able to post for a few days. Please bot me as needed.

Cladissa gasps and stands mute when Sabrina appears in her defense. She has a momentary fear that the opinionated druid would be struck down, but everyone in attendance pauses as she speaks.

Sabrina's speech brings a smile on her face, though deep in her gut her stomach sits uneasy. She could feel her resolve crack even as Sabrina heaps praise upon her; the cleric's words eating into her.

Cladissa accepts her defender's hand when she steps forward to stand next to her, but Sir Preston doesn't move. His head and eyes lower, his mouth moving in whispered words of prayer.

Then Genedair summons the guards. Cladissa gives Sabrina's hand a squeeze, then lets go. "Sabrina, please go with them. It'll be all right." ::Thank you. You tried, but, I think he may be right::

After Sabrina is escorted out and Genedair addresses her, Cladissa hangs her head. Fresh tears begin to fall. "I guess that's it, then, isn't it?"

She stands that way for several minutes, as the remaining acolytes and attendants slowly file out until it is just Genedair and Preston with her.

"You may say your goodbyes in the confessional, but Sir Preston must be on his way soon. My child, you may remain there as long as you like. If you truly accept the Inheritor's guidance, she will not lead you astray."

She nods, and sullenly follows the paladin back through the cathedral to where she and her passengers first arrived. When the door closes, they embrace fiercely.

"I can't-- I won't--" she tries to say as she pulls the brooch off her breast and pushes it into his hands. "I would have given you my heart," she finally whispers.

He pushes the brooch back to her. "This isn't the end, you know. I will follow Iomedae's guidance, and trust that she'll lead me back to you."

Cladissa looks at him, searching his face, memorizing each line and chiseled feature on his face and gazing deep into his eyes. "I'll be here. I'll trust her." She glances over to the image of the Inheritor. "She'll give me the strength to keep going."

He smiles, tears beginning to well in his eyes. "I know. As hard as this is, I'm so proud of you."

Cladissa kisses him fiercely, attacking him as her heart breaks. Their tears mix as they pour down their cheeks, making their passionate kisses taste salty. She squeezes against him, using hands, wings and tail to press her body against his. He responds, his strong hands exploring her soft, yielding body...

Cladissa recoils in horror at the accusation. "No... I'm not... It didn't happen that way!" She looks desperately at the council members, then back to Roald. "No! No no no. Oh, gods... Iomedae? Please, stop. Stop, it's not true, he's lying! I'm not a succubus..."

Tears begin to fall as her whole body trembles.

Cladissa stares dumbfoundedly at Roald. It was surreal; her head swam and she clutched at the railing for support.

Panicked thoughts seize her as her mind spins, trying to process this. How does he know? He shouldn't know, what is he doing here? "My Lords, I don't know what he's trying to do," she says, completely off-balance.

Desperately, she thinks at him, ::Roald, why are you doing this?::

Cladissa's mouth goes suddenly dry and her heart hammers in her chest so hard she's afraid her ribs might break. Roald?!? What in all the Realms--?

Fighting for her voice, she stammers, "My lords? This is... What is this?" as she takes several steps back from her old acquaintance.

Cladissa had returned to Verde Heights shortly after receiving the sending, leaving Sir Preston at the Tempering Hall and flying back in order to put the finishing touches on her speech. She had explained her proposal so many times to so many interested parties that she could practically present it in her sleep. However, this was the big one. So she went over every part of the plan again that evening, refining the various points she planned on making. She only allowed herself to be interrupted when a scream shook the manor. Once she determined it to be Argor, but that he was relatively fine, she returned to her work. She had a huge day ahead of her; he would understand.

=======================

"-- So you see, the Ministry of Slavery and Indentured Servitude will not only monitor the trading practices and treatment of slaves -- ensuring that the newly enumerated rights are not being violated -- it will also purchase slaves from masters at a generous price when adverse circumstances prevent those masters from providing their slaves basic care, or when those slaves become unable to perform their usual work. Those slaves will then work for the Ministry for a set period of time as indentured servants before earning their complete freedom. Therefore, thanks to the startup costs being covered by the generous donations from various benefactors, the Ministry will be largely self-funding. Without a doubt, slaves who are well-treated and given the prospects of a better future will be more productive, resulting in a net positive for both slave and responsible slave owner. I anticipate slave revolts will become a thing of the past once they are given rights to air grievances. With these reforms to curb the worst excesses of the slave trade, and with the Ministry at its core, Absalom's future will be one that is safer, more secure, and far more productive for all its citizens. Thank you."

The presentation had gone well, Cladissa thinks as she wraps up her speech and awaits the few planned questions from the supporters. Most of the anticipated objections had already been addressed in her presentation. She smiles at Evigail and Lord Hueff, who both nod at her approvingly. While some of the Council's faces are unreadable, she counts the supporters in the majority.

She glances up briefly into the gallery, knowing that Sir Preston and several of her friends had turned out to watch her speech. While they were unable to do anything but observe, she feels immeasurably grateful for their presence. Not sure who wants to attend.

"I am now prepared to answer your questions," she says, glancing about the Council.

Cladissa sits mostly quiet during the debriefing, absent-mindedly rubbing her throat. She accepts the coin at the conclusion and leaves with the rest, but instead of heading to Verde Heights she brings up her usual illusion and takes flight toward the center of the city: the Ascendant Court.

She gives the Temple of the Starstone Cathedral a wide berth as she spots her destination. The Seventh Church rises into the sky behind the Iomedaenne, the limestone-and-sapphire statue of the Inheritor herself. Circling around the temple, she sees a throng of people leaving. Surmising that the ceremony commemorating Iomedae's Eleventh Act has concluded, she lands just outside the crowd and begins to weave her way toward the church.

After several minutes of working through the crowd, she is able to gain entry and asks one of the acolytes for Sir Preston Riverwyne. She guides Cladissa into one of the antechambers where the paladin, resplendent in his polished armor and crisp white tabard, smiles when he sees her.

They embrace, the look on his face full of relief. "I'm so glad to see you safe. How did the mission go?" His smile fades when he sees Cladissa's look.

"Can we go somewhere private?" she asks him. He nods, and he takes her into a small shrine for quiet meditation and contemplation before a permanent illusion of the goddess. When they both enter, her full battle regalia shifts and suddenly she is in a simple robe.

Cladissa blinks at the sudden change in the image. Preston shrugs. "Not sure why it does that sometimes. Some say it's in response to the occupants. I almost always see her in her armor." He takes her hands and leads her to a pair of cushions before the silent image and has her sit down. "This is a confessional. Nothing shared here will escape these walls," he says as he sits next to her.

Cladissa eyes the image of the goddess somewhat nervously, but her expression is peaceful and understanding, not nearly as fierce and standoffish as she is usually depicted. She allows her illusion to drop, and she lifts her head to the soft illumination of the chamber, showing him the faint lines of the freshly healed wounds she suffered earlier that morning.

Preston's chiseled face lines with concern. "That looks like it was nasty."

Cladissa forces a smile. "Worse. It was fatal."

He blinks in surprise. "But-- wait, did you actually--?"

She shakes her head. "No. When my throat was torn out, I should have bled out right there. But the black ichor that is my blood didn't flow like it should have. It's ironic. The change that the demons wrought in me actually saved my life."

Preston sits in silence for a while as he thinks on that. After a long pause, Cladissa speaks again. "I've not been fair to you. You were such a surprise, and you seemed too good to be true. So, I refused to believe it. It's not that I didn't trust you, I didn't trust myself."

The paladin just sits quietly, but his face shows a fair amount of understanding.

Cladissa continues, "if I'm to keep this brooch, I need to start trusting. I have to start believing. Death is just around the corner. I need a divine patron, and I need to live without the regret I'd have if I didn't try to love you."

Preston tilts his head as his eyes go wide. "Cladissa, what are you saying?"

She smiles at him. "I'm saying that I want to choose Iomedae. I want you to show me how to worship her. And I want... you," she finishes with a blush.

There is excitement evident on his face as he reaches out and takes her hands. But he quickly tempers it, eyes full of concern. "Are you sure? You've just had a trying day, obviously. This is a big step. There's no rush."

Cladissa squeezes her eyes and shakes her head vehemently. "No, there really is. I've wasted time, and my enemies are still out there. I want-- I need to set things right in case the next threat manages to succeed in killing me."

Preston nods, understanding. He rises to his feet. "All right, then. Stay here and meditate while I go see if Genedair the Faithful is available. I think he'd like to take you through the rites."

========================

She had sat and stared at the image of Iomedae, her heart thudding for some reason, for what must have been an hour before Preston returned.

"Here. You'll need this." He hands her a long sword which she takes and awkwardly holds in one hand. She looks at it uncertainly, then back to him. "It's tradition," he says simply, then escorts her out of the meditation chamber.

Cladissa remembers to bring up her illusion before they leave and head to the inner sanctum of the temple. There seated in the pulpit is the ancient form of Genedair the Faithful, high priest of the Seventh Church.

"Welcome, Cladissa Velorryan," the old man wheezes once she takes her place kneeling before him and a massive shrine to the Inheritor. "I have heard of you. I have have been told of your deeds of valor, and most importantly, compassion. On your own, without guidance, you have maintained a good heart and even moreso, acted upon it. I have no doubt that Iomedae will welcome you into her fold."

A smile grows on Cladissa's face as the aged priest speaks, and she glances over to Preston and sees him smiling as well. "Thank you. I--"

"However," Genedair says, forcefully interrupting her, "this is not to be taken lightly, nor for frivolous reasons." His faded eyes still keenly glance over toward the knight before refocusing on her. "Do you feel called to Iomedae's service?"

Cladissa's mind works, suddenly feeling sluggish. "Ah, I feel called to fight evil. Isn't that the same thing?"

The old man shakes his head. "No. To serve Iomedae is to trust in Iomedae. To heed her call without question, and to face the evils in the world unflinchingly. Can you do this?"

A frown touches her lips, and she feels Preston's eyes on her, though she doesn't look in his direction. She'd fought so many foul creatures and though she was frequently scared, she stayed and fought -- most of the time. She remembered a couple times supernatural fear had gotten the better of her, but that was different, right? Maybe she should have taken Preston's advice and taken a moment to really reflect on what she was doing.

But ultimately, would this change anything about who she was? She wanted to protect her friends, but even more, she wanted to protect others. Those who she didn't even know, but would benefit from the good she did. The thought that potentially years later, complete strangers could be living a better, safer life thanks to her efforts made her feel uplifted.

This priest was testing her, she realizes. She smiles at him. "Yes."

"Very well. Grip your sword and touch it to the altar. Kneel before it." As Cladissa does so, Genedair nods to Preston. The paladin takes a holy symbol and hangs it off the hilt of the sword. "Now, repeat these words: I give my life over to Iomedae. I renounce evil and its agents. I will uphold the teachings of the Inheritor, for they are the teachings of honor and justice. May she guide my sword in battle and temper my tongue in speech. By her eleven deeds, I am hers and she shall forever be my captain, my patron, and my goddess."

Cladissa recites the words clearly and without hesitation. When she finishes, Genedair tells her, "Arise, daughter of Iomedae."

She stands, and a beaming Sir Preston girds a belt around her waist, hanging the sword from it. He then ties string holding the holy symbol around her neck. Cladissa hugs him tightly and presses her lips hard against his.

They kiss for a long moment until a pair of acolytes shoo the pair out of the sanctum, stating that Genedair the Faithful needed his rest.

===========

After the ceremony, Sir Preston walks Cladissa around the Seventh Church to show her many of the great works of art dedicated to the Inheritor, then takes her across the street to the Tempering Hall to show her the paladins in training.

They walk hand-in-hand for a while, stealing kisses every so often. The sun was beginning to set when all of a sudden Cladissa is hit with a mystical message. She stands still for a moment, then responds, "Yes, that's wonderful! Thank you! I shall be there, absolutely!"

She then turns to the puzzled Sir Preston, bouncing up and down excitedly. "That was Evigail! The Council will be considering my slavery reforms tomorrow! They'll hear my presentation! She says the time is right; that it's got a majority of votes!" She laughs as she falls into Sir Preston's embrace.

"Praise Iomedae!" they both shout in unison.

As Dreng leaves and they stand on the cusp of another deadly task, Cladissa thinks to everyone, ::Are we sure that's really him?::

Cladissa nods at Argor in agreement to his thoughts.

When the oddly echoing voice of Sabrina rings in her mind, Cladissa looks uncertain. ::I can't think of a more dangerous creature than this one, but I still think we can learn much from it. I won't stop you if you decide that's what's best, though::

If Sabrina decides to stay her hand, Cladissa leans forward to Xis and whispers into what should be his ear. "Do me a favor and behave while I'm gone? Don't bother trying to escape, or I can't help you. But if someone rescues you, just act normal and don't mention our friendship, please? I might get hurt if the Onyx Labyrinth finds out we're friends. Come see me right away if you find yourself free. But I'd much prefer you just remain as our guest. All right?"

With a silent prayer to all the good deities that her enchantments hold, she follows Dreng to his office.

Cladissa stares at Argor's back as he floats out of sight, frowning slightly. Then she shakes her head and refocuses on Mr. Xis.

Cladissa gives Xis another fake smile. Then she glances at Argor, and lets a bit of her old bitterness into her voice. "For the moment, they suit my purposes. You understand."

Then she sends a mental missive to Argor. ::A bit. Apparently, Xis' boss is a Norgorberite priest, and a high-ranking member of this new alliance, which was created just to deal with us. Makes me wonder if there's more secrets to our serum within Dreng's vaults, if that's what they're after. I've got him charmed, which should last for several days, and he's under a compulsion to remain calm and docile for at least eight hours. I'm still not comfortable leaving him behind, unless Dreng and Sidri are well enough to watch him::

When they others start to search the costume shop, she eyes Cole. "Go help." He meows and dashes off to nose around the place.
Perception: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (9) + 15 = 24

"Mr. Xis? Is there any fancy treasures hidden around here? Or any traps my familiar should watch out for?"

Cladissa glances in the direction of the back room, wondering if Argor is having success getting whatever this priest's plans are. She certainly didn't like the fact that their day didn't seem to be over. Then she looks back to the faceless thing, rubbing her neck. "Yeah, but you hurt me real bad, remember? You can hang on for a little longer, while I decide what to do next. Say, when you met with this priest, how did you look? You can change your appearance, right? Did you look like this now, or do you have another face that he knows you by? You know, so I can smooth things over for you, when I go to meet him. What's your name, by the way?"

"Your group of Pathfinders specifically, my dear. I could tell you who is in charge, if I knew. They keep everything compartmentalized to avoid just this sort of scenario, I imagine. Magical compulsion is annoyingly common in our world, isn't it?"

Cladissa forces a smile. "Indeed." Then she forges ahead. "Well, you still have to receive orders, right? How do get those? And how would you have let them know you succeeded, had you replaced him? And really, I'm not all that bad, am I? Wouldn't you rather I join you, instead of all this back-door plotting against us?"

Cladissa leans back for a moment while she thinks. Then she sighs, and brings up her usual illusion. "So you said you're with the Onyx Alliance, which was created to deal with us. Us, as in, the Freaks? Or us, as in the Pathfinders?"

She waits for the answer, then smiles. "Could you tell me who's in charge of the Onyx Labyrinth? You would help me out so much by letting me know."

Cladissa sobbed for a while, allowing her heart to break and mend itself and break all over again while Sir Preston held her close. At some point he had lifted her off the ground and had begun walking alongside Bellerophon through the streets of Absalom.

She had hoped the crying would be cathartic, but she wasn't feeling better. Even as the tears flowed and her chest heaved, the pit of dread in her stomach grew.

Her sobs finally subsiding, she looked up into Preston's face. He smiled reassuringly, although it didn't make her feel better. She pulled him tight, burying her face into his chest.

"I-- I'm sorry," she says after her muscles fatigue and her embrace weakens.

"You don't have to apologize, Cladissa. I just wish I knew what's bothering you so much."

Her lower lip trembles and she feels her chest seize up. "I'm terrified. Something's going to happen, I just know it. I don't know what, but I'm-- I'm--"

"You have the same fears as everyone. That's all. We don't know our fates."

Cladissa just shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Her life had given her so much disappointment and heartache, she couldn't bring herself to trust that anything good will last. And she couldn't figure out how to tell him that.

With fresh tears in her eyes, she looks into his eyes, pleading. "Please, could you just tell me that it's going to be all right? That nothing bad's going happen? We're going to make it, together?"

Sir Preston opens his mouth, but shuts it. He studies her face, his brow furrowed. Then he leans forward and kisses her tenderly. "Yes," he says when their lips part. "It's going to be--"

"--Stop. Don't... You don't have to say anything else," she says.

He nods silently.

"Let me just... pretend for a while."

Late that evening

Sir Preston stands silently behind her until the sound of someone clearing their throat has him turn. Tessida is outside the restaurant, standing rigidly.

Sir Preston looks back and forth between Cladissa and her mother a couple times, then speaks. "Ah, Lady Farwynd, why don't you take the coach back to your villa? I'll see that Cladissa gets home safe." A few seconds later, his enchanted steed Bellerophon appears from the upper realms with a whinny.

Cladissa turns to protest, but her words die on her tongue when she is confronted by her mother's glare. She flinches away and walks over to the warhorse and pats his cheek.

"Thank you, Sir Riverwyne," Tessida says. "It was a pleasure to dine with you. Cladissa, good luck on your... endeavors." She then heads towards their coach.

"You don't need to do anything. I can fly back on my own," Cladissa tells the paladin when they're alone.

"I know you can fly, but I was hoping we could talk some more," he responds as he steps close and offers to help her on Bellerophon.

Cladissa shakes her head and takes a step back. "No. It's best I go now."

"Why? What is it? I can't help if I don't know what's bothering you," he insists.

She turns away and looks at her hands, still covered in her illusion. She reaches up and touches the brooch. "You can't help. Because it's me. I don't know what's going to happen. I've got enemies that could go after you... I've got this... body."

Sir Preston places a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Don't-- don't think like that."

She spins back to face him. "How can I not!?! What if they strike at you? What if I can't go back to looking like this? What if it doesn't work out? It'll hurt. It'll hurt so much, I don't think I can take it."

He pulls her in close with a tight embrace. "So rather than your enemies do it, you'd do it yourself? Doesn't this hurt now? I want to say it'll be all right, and keep you from all harm. But I can't-- I can't make those kind of promises. I can only be brave. You're going into danger tomorrow. Do you think I like the thought of that? I want to ask you not to go -- to retire from the Pathfinders so you won't face that kind of danger again. But I have faith in you. That you'll be victorious. That you'll do more good. That more evil will be stopped. Because that's what had me seek you out in the first place."

As he spoke, Cladissa reached her arms around him and squeezed him tight. Her eyes watered, and by the end tears were flowing freely. She choked back a sob, but all he did was touch her cheek gently and hold her tighter. The dam broke and her body shook as she cried openly in his arms.

Cladissa stands smoothly, face tight with emotion. She eyes Argor warily, wondering if there's some hidden meaning within his words. Finally, she smiles neutrally. "Thank you for the advice, Argor Blakros."

========================
Later, after the meal...

When the food had arrived, the dinner had lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as everyone ate. When the meal finished, the talk was small and strained. Finally, Cladissa excused herself.

"I've got a mission tomorrow, so I should get ample sleep. It was a pleasure. Mother. Sir Preston." She stands to leave.

"Cladissa, wait." The paladin rises and follows her outside. "Iomedae go with you on your mission," he tells her.

"I don't even know what it is," she says with a note of irritation.

Sir Preston shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. She'll be with you regardless."

Cladissa doesn't say anything, but nods halfheartedly.

After a pause, the paladin shakes his head. "Captain Everly taught me that a conflicted heart is weak because it fights against itself. I can't help feeling that something's wrong. Is there... anything I can do?"

Cladissa turns away from him. "No. I'm not sure there is."

Placing the envelopes in her lap, she leans back in her seat. "Yeah, sure. And let me say it's nice of you to take in Grommesson. He feels... familiar somehow. But I guess he's part of the family for you. It's good to see you embracing that part of Imrizade's life. Wealthy families can treat their branches as assets and bargaining chips, but I hope you're able to find some love within the Blakroses -- besides what you've found with Imri, obviously."

She nods in understanding. "Oh, I'm very aware, and I totally appreciate your position. This is very helpful," she says, holding up the files. "If this is to be successful, I don't want it tainted by rumors of backdealing and favoritism from within my own camp. I mean, honestly, there's enough of that already going on. It's actually crazy how the Norgorberites are so in favor of this. I guess because slaves are privy to so much hidden information."

Cladissa stares at the envelopes for a long time, not saying anything. She picks them up slowly, scanning through their names, recognizing several of them on each, but seeing some for the first time. She nods her head, then looks up at Argor.

"Thank you for this. I... don't know how much you know, but I've patterned a lot of the rules after the arrangements in your own household. I'd be honored if you looked over my proposed legislation. I just finished going over it with the Abadarians. Talk about semantics." She smiles at him.

Back on topic, Cladissa looks at the names on the envelopes. "Okay, sorry. So, what are you showing me?"

Cladissa glances at the two envelopes. Then her eyes widen and she looks back up. "Oh! I almost forgot! Your and Imri's wedding gift! I haven't had the chance to explain it to you! You'll want to work out your pose and everything. I went with the classic white marble, but if you both decide to go with another color, you can do that. There's several other choices in the showroom."

Cladissa gives the half-orc a reassuring smile. "Well, then. Just stay close, keep your eyes open and give a shout if you see something sneaking up behind us. The last time we went on an adventure, something got in behind us. It'll be nice having someone to watch our backs."

Before heading off for her soak, she arches an eyebrow at Argor's summons, but ultimately shrugs and stretches her wings. She takes flight with a few powerful beats and lands lightly on his balcony.

"Yes?"

Cladissa listens to the exchange between Grommesson and Osprey, and her mouth pops open in shock. He's... Anja's... son?!? she realizes, not being entirely sure how to take the revelation, considering how they initially introduced themselves as stepsiblings. Why would Argor be mentoring Grommesson? It'd be almost like him taking Grommuk under his wing -- such a absurd notion," she muses.

When he turns to her about preparations, she glances around for Argor. "Oh, well, I guess it depends on what kind of things you're good at. Magic? Or do you use weapons? Can you channel the power of a god? Make whatever preparations that let you do those things. Or, if you can't... I suppose just stick close to Argor and me. Gianluca, Sabrina and Bentley are pretty good fighters."

======================
Later that evening...

With a full 24 hours before the briefing, Cladissaa takes advantage of the opportunity to refresh herself with a scalding soak in the Verde Heights baths. Then, feeling rejuvenated, she dons an airy dress and goes to meet her mother for a previously-arranged meal at a quiet restaurant.

When she arrives, she freezes. Sir Preston is sitting with her mother at the table, chatting. They pause in their conversation and look up. Preston smiles while her mother gives her a withering look.

"Why, Sir Preston, I didn't expect to see you here," Cladissa begins as an attendant smoothly steps in to move her chair out. She takes a seat while the paladin stands up briefly and then returns to his chair. She actively ignores her mother's glare.

"Yes, I... missed you since the wedding. Tessida invited me, as I had the evening free," Sir Preston answers. He makes a pointed glance at the brooch on her breast, then grabs his cup and takes a sip.

Cladissa mentally kicks around a pang of guilt, and succeeds in forcing it away. "I've been exceedingly busy since the wedding. I'm sorry. And tomorrow I've another task for the Pathfinders. Who knows what sort of mission they have for me."

Sir Preston sits up. "I could--" he begins, but immediately cuts himself off. "No, that won't work. Tomorrow I'm taking part in the anniversary ceremony of the Eleventh Act. I had hoped you could..."

"I would have," she immediately answers, even though she's unsure. "But my team needs me. Though I don't know what we're doing."

Her mother, silent up to this point, chimes in, "Well, that's a shame. Sir Riverwyne tells me that you've hardly spoken since the wedding."

The paladin observes the glares between mother and daughter and clears his throat. "She... asked," he explains.

"I've. Been. Busy," Cladissa says, looking directly at her mother.

"Look, maybe I should--" Sir Preston begins, rising from his seat.

"NO!" both ladies say in unison. He sits back down.

The Lady Farwynd's glare doesn't lessen, although she forces a tight smile. "So what is it that's been keeping you so busy, dear?"

Sir Preston leans forward. "She's told me. It's a wonderful idea, but a daunting task. I'm very hopeful she'll succeed."

Cladissa smiles at her suitor, then turns to her mother. "I'm trying to reform slavery in Absalom. I've drafted new laws that will give slaves rights, and the ability to make grievances against their owners if they violate those rights. I'm hoping to curtail the worst excesses of the slave trade. It's been exhausting trying to build up enough of a coalition and to make inroads in the slavers guilds. I've been using this celebrity I've found to do something good."

Tessida sits back in her seat, her face full of mixed emotions. She begins to speak, but closes her mouth before she says anything. Finally, she says, "Well, then. That's certainly ambitious."

After a pregnant pause, Sir Preston clears his throat. "So, if that's what's been keeping you, I certainly understand. I can't fault you for working on such a noble cause."

"Thank you," Cladissa responds, again feeling the surge of guilt, coupled with the dread she'd been feeling since she talked with her stepsister. Noble cause, and the perfect excuse to avoid him, she can't help but chide herself.

Cladissa steps back at the druid's sudden arrival. For a moment, she feels her exhaustion lift as the Pathfinder shows up. She glances around her, feeling somewhat out of place in her crisp business skirt and blouse combo, but figures that there would be enough time to change into her adventuring gear in the event Osprey has a mission for them.

"Good to see you, too," she says. "And it's Cladissa," she adds with a smile to show she's not upset.

Cole materializes on the witch's shoulder, holding a letter in his mouth. She takes it, looks at the seal of House Riverwyne, and passes it back to him. "Thanks, but I'll look at it later," she tells the cat.

He meows at her. "I said, later," she stresses, and Cole reluctantly takes the letter. As he slinks away, he turns back to look at her. "I heard that!!" she yells after him.

"Sorry." She looks at the assemblage of Blakroses, old and new, and the other houseguests of Verde Heights. "Is something going on? Or, I can leave, if you'd like."

Several days after the wedding

Cladissa returns from another exhausting meeting with the Church of Abadar, hands laden with notes for revisions. She has nothing on her mind but a lengthy soak in a scalding-hot bath, but notes the general tenor of the household staff. Argor and Imrizade were back.

She dumps off her stack of parchments in front of Cole. He meows in irritation, but starts grabbing them one at a time in his mouth and flying them up to her room.

Hearing voices in the courtyard, Cladissa decides that, despite feeling mentally spent, she should welcome their hosts back from their honeymoon. She steps lightly into the lush courtyard, keeping her illusion up out of habit and being immediately grateful for it.

"Grommesson! Hi, it's nice to see you again," she says.

After the dance with Argor, Cladissa moves through the crowd on the dance floor looking for Sir Preston. She wondered what damage her stepsister could have done in a single dance, but she had to find out to start to undo it.

She exits the throng of people and sees the two of them still in an animated discussion near the tables. She wavers in indecision, debating whether to intrude on their conversation or to wait until they finish. Ultimately, her decision is made for her as Auronee spots her, gives a little wave, and excuses herself.

Cladissa slowly moves up to her suitor and forces a smile. "So you've met my stepsister, then."

Sir Preston nods, but notices her mood. "Yes. What's wrong?"

"We're not exactly on good terms. In fact, we pretty much hate each other."

Preston frowns. "Oh. That explains why she didn't know about your... new look."

Cladissa groans and buries her head against Preston's chest. "You didn't tell her. No, of course you did. She saw us together, didn't she?"

"Yes, she said she was concerned about you. That I might be cheating on you. I'm sorry, I didn't know," he says while putting his arms around her.

"I don't blame you," Cladissa says, voice muffled through his tunic. Then she straightens, smooths her dress and plants a kiss on Preston's lips. "I'll have to have a talk with her. In the meantime, I hope you would avoid her. It would make me feel a lot better."

The paladin looks uncomfortable. "Well... about that..."

"What?" Cladissa asks, dread creeping into her stomach.

"She sort of pledged a lot of aid to the Crusade, and promised to use her influence in Taldor to throw more support. I'll be working with her to effect the arrangements."

Cladissa's teeth grind together and she squeezes her eyes shut in frustration. "She's doing this on purpose just to drive me insane," she mutters.

"Look, maybe I can--" Preston begins.

"No! The Crusade is too important. Let's not care about her motives. Do what's best for Mendev and the crusaders."

Preston looks at Cladissa with admiration, then pulls her close for a kiss.

Cladissa's forced smile turns into a genuine one. Then, with the absurdity of the whole situation, allows a slight giggle to escape her throat. "Thank you," she says as she twirls out, pauses, then is drawn back in close.

She studies her dance partner as he guides her around the floor. When the music fades, she leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "Congratulations on your marriage, Argor. I hope it brings you all the happiness in the realms."

::Only in the most direct sense,:: she responds, mouth growing tight. Then she tosses her hair with a shake of her head and forces a smile. ::But I am going to pretend it doesn't bother me in the least. Now say something funny::

"Of course! This wedding is beyond belief, and I am actually having a great time." Even so, she still can't help but spare a glance in Auronee's direction. "I feel truly honored to be a part of it. It really means a lot."

Her smile fades somewhat, and her brow furrows slightly. ::I don't know. I've only heard it... well, it's probably not important. My name's Velorryan::

Cladissa follows Argor's lead, trusting him not to drop her when he lowers her into a dip. When he pulls her back up, she puts her arm back around his shoulder. "I trust him. And I wanted to dance with you, Mr. Blakros."

They glide through the steps of the dance. ::Why did you call me that? Where did you hear that name?::

Cladissa smiles back. "It was my pleasure," she responds, feeling immeasurably better and quite relieved the young half-orc did not seem bothered by her current relationship status.

As the music for the next dance begins, she looks around and her heart sinks as she sees Preston and Auronee paired together. In a fit of jealousy, Cladissa searches for her stepsister's date and spots the bard amidst a throng of giggling Blakros daughters. Shaking herself out of that notion, she scans the crowd for a potential dance partner.

Oh, well, why not? she thinks as she glides up to the man of the hour. "Argor, may I have this dance?" she says, extending her hand to him.