Drisella DiAmonicia's page

Having been watching from just inside the entrance of the red room with halfway lidded eyes, there were some similarities to be drawn between Drisella's demeanor, her choice of colorations and even hair color and the woman laid across the divan. While Drisella's infernal side walked clearly behind her in the form of a hideous, tar-skinned beast of flesh and metal, Irin's side was concealed behind pearly white teeth and a crimson smile.

After watching the reactions of her allies, the way that they are drawn to her enticing like moths to an open flame, Drisella looks askance to Walker in Darkness who in turn focuses his six-eyed stare up at her. The two exchange a wordless conversation expressed in body language and subtle facial expressions before coming to a unified agreement.

No.

Without verbalizing the decision to the others, Drisella instead pads across the room on bare feet, carrying her puzzlebox carefully in both hands as she does. On reaching the door to the further trial that Kergh is already at, she pauses and waits for Walker to heel at her feet. The beast lays down, chin on its paws, barbed tail curling around Drisella's ankles.

"I am uninterested," Drisella finally states, clasping her hands on the puzzlebox firmly. "I will await your arrival to your senses and the mission."

___________
Drisella is not partaking in Irin's chicanery and will be waiting for everyone to be ready to move on.

With a grunt and groan of effort, Grumblejack grabs the carrion golem's bomb-launching arm that it had killed itself with and begins dragging the creature — bodily — in the direction of his allies. As he does so, Drisella steps to the side and flourishes one arm towards the opening that Barnabas is making his way towards. Walker in Darkness quickly slinks along beside Drisella's heels, then moves aside as Grumblejack hauls the carcass up beside the red-clad summoner.

Offering the arm out to Drisella, Grumblejack watches with some puzzlement as she gives it a scrutinizing look, trying to ascertain how it functions in order to fight darkness with fire.

_____________
Drisella wants to see if she can get one more fwoomp out of that bomb launcher to fire into the adjacent room. She's taking the clue somewhat literally.
Knowledge (Arcana): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15

Waiting to see what the others do before I take Dris' turn.

Hi All!

Just to give you guys a heads-up, I'm super busy because of the holidays and haven't been on the Internet outside of my phone in a few days. I'll be delayed in updating things till this weekend, most likely, though if I manage to steal a little time here and there I will!

I hope you all had an excellent week! :D

"Retreat!" Drisella shouts after she hears that warning from Walker, "Vacate the room now!" One of the colored pieces of her puzzle box snaps into place with a click. She's figured it out.

"Grumblejack! Fetch the bomb launcher from the carrion golem!" The young woman barks the order to the weary ogre, then readies herself to retrieve the destructive piece of artifice.

Hopefully, it still functions.

Snorting derisively, Drisella looks at the formation of what amounts to a human daisy-chain with brows furrowed. Clutching her puzzle box in both hands, the young woman slides the colored squares around with her thumbs, watching her companions attempt to fumble about the darkness. She nods to Walker in Darkness, who moves to take her place with them. The slick, black creature does not have hands to join, per-se, but reaches out with its sinuous, barbed tail to touch the person at the rear of the chain.

"I will wait here with Grumblejack," the summoner states flatly, unwilling to probe the lightless void with blindly groping hands. "I will attempt to... discern another approach, should this fail." Nodding to Walker in Darkness, Drisella continues to play with the colored squares of her puzzlebox.

_________
Drisella is sending Walker in with the others. If something comes up she can spend a standard action to share senses with Walker for up to 2 rounds. As long as Walker stays within 100 feet he'll be fine, if he begins to reach that distance I'll potentially amend her plans. Grumblejack will be staying with Drisella (so as to not Grumblejack his way into something accidentally, plus because he deserves a break.)

Been updating games for three hours, very tired ~_~

I'll update here tomorrow!

+1 on the Tomb or Horrors reference appreciation.

<After the golem destroys itself>

Drisella finally lets a held breath out as the creature expires of its own accord. The release of tension from the young woman comes with a shudder that briefly belies her actual age in spite of her usually stoic demeanor. A fleeting look is offered to Walker in Darkness as the creature moves to assess the condition of the corpse. Drisella, however, approaches Grumblejack and lays a hand on the ogre's uninjured flank.

She says nothing, but the touch says much all on its own. For the briefest of moments, the summoner's eyes show a kindness not displayed to the others yet. She owes the ogre, that much is clear.

<And now...>

Surveying the darkness, Drisella offers a look down to Walker who returns the girl's stare with a slow, steady shake of its head. Furrowing her brows, the young woman clutches her puzzlebox firmly and looks up to Mikhail. "Walker cannot see through that shadow, what do your eyes see?"

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Knowledge (arcana): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13 (Attempting to identify a spell effect in place; DC 20 + spell level)

Hey guys, just a heads up: December is shaping up to be a real bear at my office as law firms get in their billing in advance the end of the fiscal year, so I've been pulling overtime and generally working harder than usual. As such I've been pretty burned out when I get home so I may miss a day or two of posting here and there up through New Years. Please bear with me and any slowness to respond to stuff.

Taking a shot in the dark having Grumblejack hurl some sticky ichor at the golem to distract it while we introduce it to Beetlemania.

Round 2, Initiative 15 (Walker and Grumblejack delayed)
Drisella HP 7/9|F+0/R+0/W+5
Walker HP 18|AC 16/T12/FF14|F+4/R+6/W+0|EVASION
Grumblejack HP 10/30|AC 17/T8/FF17|F+6/R+0/W+3
 
Grumblejack
Standard Action: Dirty Trick combat maneuver on Golem; throwing ichor as ranged attack at the golem's face.
Move Action: Move 40 feet away from golem
Grumblejack: Dirty Trick combat Maneuver (Blindness): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29 (automatic success, golem blinded for 1 round; or until it spends a move action to remove the effect)
 
Drisella
Move Action: Open Door
Standard Action: Cast mage hand and lure beetles out with Oswald's poppet.

________________

Hissing as she recoils from the ichor, Drisella turns back and looks at Grumblejack stumbling and staggering, smoke rising off of his back from the ichor. Walker in Darkness crouches down and digs his claws against the stone, a hollow, metallic growl emanating from deep within. Drisella shakes her head, jerking a gesture back and the eidolon lets out a snarl and springs backwards, sprinting to join the others.

"Grumblejack!" Drisella howls, pointing to the golem, "slow it down!" As the young woman turns, Grumblejack looks with wide eyes at her retreating form, then over its shoulder at the janky form of the golem lumbering down the hall. Grunting, Grumblejack looks flustered as he scrapes a handful of the black, tarry ichor off of his back.

Then, like an angry simian, hurls a handful of that black, tarry substance back at the golem with a shout of frustration and pain. The black ichor splatters against the golem's head, causing it to jerk back from the force of the ogre's throw. The black, tarry substance burning grumblejack's back now slides in sticky lengths down the golem's face, obstructing its view.

Grumblejack, snorting angrily, lopes off after the others with a sense of ogrish accomplishment.

Down the end of the hall, Drisella comes to a skidding halt in front of the door. With one hand she twists the knob and opens it, holding out her other hand towards Oswald as she speaks the same eldritch incantation as before, curling her fingers in a grasping gesture.

Drisella curses her choice to discard the lock of Mikhail's hair from earlier as she makes that motion towards Oswald. "If you would be so kind," she urges, taking his suggestion of the poppet's use with a telekinetic brush of unseen force to disengage his poppet from his hand, dangling it precariously close to the spiders before moving the doll fifteen feet backwards towards the golem, trying her best to keep them on the opposite side of the hall from Mikhail.

Hopefully the stench of the cadaverous machine will overwhelm the scent of the poppet, and lure them fully to their next meal.

Drisella shows momentary shock when the cadaverous amalgamation is revealed, and Walker assumes a defensive stance as its steely teeth are bared from behind inky lips. "No," she urges to her shadowy companion, taking a few slinking steps backwards. "With the others, come!" Drisella is quick to follow the path of retreat, knowing full well that Oswald's plan is a sound one.

Grumblejack, to his credit, had already contemplated running for wholly selfish reasons when the shambling corpse-pile came animate. But on seeing the others withdrawing in a less than frenzied panic, he presumes that perhaps there may be a plan involved somewhere. Turning bulbous eyes towards the corpse creature, Grumblejack too moves back, though his great bulk keeps him at the rear of that procession, awkwardly leaving the ogre as the plug in the hallway between the golem and the other members of the knot.

___________

Drisella, Walker and Grumblejack all double move back towards the beetle chamber. Grumblejack will go last and block up the hallway. Next round I'm thinking he'll go total defense.

Perfect call Mikhail! I was thinking the exact same thing.

@Avatar: I can run Grumblejack, yeah. I figure we can trade along with him amongst the party with whomever is giving him orders, until you need/want to resume control. One less thing for you to worry about. Do you have a stat block for him? I don't think he's an ordinary ogre from the description you'd given before.

At Mikhail's request, Drisella motions to Walker in Darkness and the lithe and shadowy creature slinks in front of her, coming to a stop directly in front of its master. The creature's wicked tail lashes back and forth slowly, while it hunches down and waits for some imperceptible threat. "Grumblejack," Drisella croons, motioning back to the ogre, "Can you move over there?" She points towards the curtain, "Stand in front of it, and if anything should come out when it opens..." her lips crook up into a smile. "Just smash it until it stops moving."

Grumblejack lets out a grunt of effort, scrubbing one hand at the back of his head as he lumbers into the room. The pondrous ogre offers a look down to Mikhail as he walks by, followed by a broad, toothy smile before ambling over to a spot adjacent to the curtain as Drisella instructed. Ready for anything, the ogre breathes in deeply, hands clenched into fists.

Looking up to Mikhail, Drisella arches one brow, then waves her hand in the direction of the cord in the ceiling, making a tugging gesture with curled fingers to reveal--

Having given the others a little while to investigate the room, Drisella slowly enters with puzzlebox cradled between her palms. Walker in Darkness follows at her heels, while Grumblejack's bulbous frame squeezes through the doorway, then lets out a grunt as he picks at one ear contentedly. Seeing Oswald scanning the room for magic, Drisella approaches the mortician and arches one black brow slowly.

"What do you see?" She asks in a soft voice, looking in the direction of the curtain with mild curiosity.

Arching one brow inquisitively, Drisella offers a moment if scrutiny to Oswald before smiling with appreciation for his cleverness. "Agreed," she notes softly.

Still waiting by the entrance, Drisella idly taps squares of her puzzlebox, watching the others open doors, be swarmed by insects and otherwise pull, twist, and crank every knob they can in an attempt to circumvent the room's protections. Glancing down to Walker in Darkness, Drisella takes a step into the corridor, motioning for Grumblejack to follow behind her.

Breathing in deeply, the girl exhales a patient sigh and examines the glass cages, then flits her stare in the direction of the wolf, then the skittering mass of beetles. There's a look afforded back over her shoulder to Grumblejack, then to Walker in Darkness as if wondering if they see the same thing she does. The young woman walks up behind Mikhail and slowly draws her dagger out of its sheathe at her wrist. She then, delicately, curls a lock of the vampire's hair around one finger and slices it off.

"Pardon me," she says after the fact in a small voice, then begins approaching the beetles. Crouching down on the ground, Drisella offers out the lock of dhampir hair with all the scent of the half-living it carries, creeping towards the creatures. Then, with a hushed, "aporate" the lock of hair drifts out of her hand to brush over the beetles writhing mass and elicit a reaction.

__________
If this bait and switch works, Drisella is going to use Mikhail's hair to lure the swarm away and then use mage hand to continue to carry it to the maximum distance and keep it away from the door while everyone makes their way through.

Thankfully I can resist temptation's lure there as nothing is a summoner hybrid.

Drisella's still hanging back, watching the others discern what to do and seeing how they solve puzzles. If she is directly addressed she will chime in with advice, but for now she's content to observe.

Once the way is clear, Drisella carefully follows along the path outlined by Barnabas, with Walker in Darkness following closely at her heels. She is mindful of Grumblejack, helping show him the safe places to walk but giving no explanation other than the implied, because you were told to, on why he should do so. By the time Drisella reaches the next chamber, she can already hear Oswald's solution, one that -- by her reading of the inscription -- is a sound one.

The young, dark-haired girl voices no opinion and instead waits silently at the entrance to this chamber, cradling the puzzle-box in both hands with Walker waiting just behind her and Grumblejack not far behind. Her stare is distant, not quite listless, but it is as though she were looking for something other than the material.

"Ephisfara," Drisella speaks clearly, and her irises softly glow in a warm amber color. Now, the weaving of magic is as visible as her hand in front of her face.

___________
Hanging back, casting detect magic and maintaining concentration while scanning ahead until otherwise stated.

While the others work to solve the puzzle within the room, Drisella remains beyond the doorway, palming and rotating the multicolored puzzle box she had been given when they first arrived here. Having solved it long before the trials began, the weight of the wooden box has become a comfort to the girl and a supplication to other nervous tendencies. Glancing down to Walker in Darkness, Drisella raises one dark brow and flicks her stare in the direction of the others examining the floor tiles. Walker says nothing, makes only the faintest of metallic noises at the back of its throat, and continues to stare intently into the room.

Grumblejack leans to the side, looking down at Drisella and then up into the room. The young woman turns her face up to regard the ogre, curious if he has something of note to offer.

He passes wind, noisily, then grimaces and leans back into a straighter posture.

___________
Drisella is content to let everyone else risk life and/or limb(s) finding the solution to the puzzle while waiting outside of the room with Grumblejack and Walker. Once it looks like they've sussed out the solution she will lead Grumblejack along the safe path to ensure he does not unhelpfully injure himself.

Waiting by the entrance of the room, Drisella watches Barnabas' entrance with halfway lidded eyes. Crossing her arms over her chest, she offers a glance down to Walker in Silence, heeled at her side and regarding Barnabas' movements with more interest than Drisella is. Turning to look over her shoulder, her eyes raise to meet the cow-like stare of the ogre they had adopted into their ranks. Drisella's eyes briefly narrowed, plans forming.

She offers a smile at the beast of an ogre, a painted one for simple minds, then returns her attention to Barnabas. There was no indication that she would be entering that room until Barnabas had either searched it thouroughly or died trying. Though, the latter would just mean someone else would need to go next.

We are totally taking our pet ogre. He'll suffice in place of cattle servants.

Oh interesting! But there's still an option there for those particular training montages. The best part about training montages in, say, martial arts movies is that they come up as flashbacks when a character is put in a particularly tight situation where they need to recall past teaching.

So we could all, at some point during the campaign, throw in a flashback to some of our additional training when presented with a particular situation. Such as Drisella needing to resist "control summoned creature", Ethaniel in a grueling duel, Barnabas raising the dead, etc.

Recommendation for Drisella:
 
"Pain has a face.": While the others attempted to flee from the pain of their trials, Drisella found comfort and revelation in the agony of near-death, the lessons of the kytons reminded to her with each sting. Whenever you are suffering from bleed damage or are below half of your total maximum hit points, you gain a +2 trait bonus on Intimidate checks.

Seated in a high-backed chair in the study, Drisella shows little emotion in the face of the Cardinal's request. Bare-footed as always, her heels are propped up on the back of Walker in Darkness' glossy, spined back where he lays at he foot of the chair like some sort of infernal ottoman. Drisella, pale face framed by dark hair, watches the others with hands folded in her lap and chin raised ever so slightly as if regarding them all with curious suspicion.

Screams are all they know of Drisella's trials, screams and a handful of small scars visible on her shoulders and wrists that were not there seventy-seven days ago. The betrayals were not the lesson for her, though, the pain was. Or at least, it seemed at much to the Cardinal. From the bladed doorknob installed in her room, to the folding bed that revealed itself to be an iron maiden, to the makeup laced with a caustic base that only worsened when exposed to water, concluding with animated bedding that attempted to strangle the life out of her, Drisella has been enamored by her torments.

These instances of death's embrace approaching were not only terrifying, but brutally painful. Each scar on her body now equivalent to a line of text in a book detailing a lesson. Her flesh the course that other such students would take to understand the suffering she has undergone and the wisdom it imparts. Drisella emerged from seventy-seven days of torment changed, but in ways the Cardinal had not planned.

"How many of your servants may we bring with us?" Drisella asks in a soft voice at the Cardinal's suggestion of going into the chambers below. "It might be dangerous," is delivered with coy teasing.

I think jumping ahead a little could help reingite this game's fire.

 
 
       Evening - 27 Calistril 4713
 
 
 
 
 
Hours after the introduction to her alter-ego conjured up by the twisted imagination of the Knot's alchemist, Drisella lay on the bed in her chambers staring up at the ceiling. On the floor at the foot of the bed, Walker in Darkness lays with its chin on its paws in mockery of some sort of faithful hound, though its sixfold eyes never shut. Drisella, too, has a listlessness to her stare, focused more so on the imperfections of the ceiling than anything else.

On the bed beside her, the multicolored wooden box with its enameled plates rests in a different configuration than it was when she recieved it. Turning her head slowly, Drisella regards the box and purses her lips, languidly reaching across the bed to pick it up, turning it around in one hand in examination of the colored squares. Brows furrowed, the young woman holds the box up in front of her face and begins twisting its sides, trying to line up the different colors to make single, solid sides.

Walker perks up, slightly, at the working of the puzzle-box, but only briefly. It's soon to lay down silently again, staring towards the door with unblinking eyes as its mistress engages her mind. For all she's struggled with the damnable box since she recieved it, Drisella had not realized until nwo she was going about it all wrong. When she had opened the Chelish crux in her adoptive father's basement it was n't by instinct that she had hurriedly pulled and twisted parts. That she could solve the crux on her own blindly was an egotistical conceit. Now, Drisella realizes, she had been guided.

This box had kept its secrets from her because she had been working at random, following whatever whim seemed right and leaving it up to chance. Now she focused herself inward, looking for logic and reason behind the positioning of the colored tiles and a pattern to emerge. She stopped thinking about the moves she was making in the moment, instead focusing on the moves that were yet to come.

After all this time, it would seem, the puzzle of the box wasn't how to solve it, but a lesson on how to approach problems with an analytical and clear mind. It wasn't about letting things go and leaving them up to chance, fate or destiny but to be proactive and take command of a situation intelligently.

Only then, did all six sides line up.
 
 

Click.
 

_____

Intelligence Check: 1d20 ⇒ 20 (Well, then.)

I think all the development I want to do with Drisella can come later. Right now she's inwardly focused on self-improvement, later on she'll be looking at the others.

Keeping the eidolon dismissed would be a huge liability if we were ever ambushed, since it takes 1 full minute to call (at least until Dris' gets higher level spells to shorten that time.)

There's a further complication in that there's a limited distance Dris' can get from Walker before he automatically unsummons himself. We may not have much other option than to keep it unsummoned most of them time, at least when we're in towns and cities. Dris' could fall back to her summon monster spells in those instances.

Wide-eyed and transfixed in horror, Drisella stares at the depiction of herself as designed by that filthy alchemist. Her mouth gapes, lip quivers a few times as if to try and say something, but all that comes out is a barely audible croak. Her hands at her side are balled up into tiny, shaking fists; white-knuckled and tense.

Slowly, a hissing noise builds in the back of her throat, and with her face as red as her real dress, Drisella turns one accusatory look towards Tiadora. Unfortunately any verbal accusation only comes out as a frustrated whine of disbelief.

___
Still laughing oh my god

AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA YES.

I actually don't have anything to add with Drisella right now until the group gets to the training room.

All I can see now is a pixelated Drisella and the Hellcow level of Diablo.

Does it summon an enraged axiomite if you try and peel off the stickers before adjusting it into the lament configuration?

I'm fine with moving foreward, I've had some grand fun with Drisella thus far ;)

With the Seventh Knot

"Nor will Brandescar ever be anything but its reputation any longer," Drisella clarifies with a single finger raised into the air. "Once, in a time of and Devils, a prison became a tombstone." Alighting on bare feet across the sitting room, Drisella moves towards one of the windows as she speaks.

"Brandescar is ashes," the young woman remarks, offering a look up to the winter witch. "Everything burns" Drisella muses with a twirl of a single finger, as if to entice a coil of flame to dance. "If you provide enough kindling."

"And we," Drisella motions to the others in the room, "must have stacked the bodies like cord wood, I suppose!" There's a wry smile playing at the corner of Drisella's mouth at the notion.

Just a heads up guys, I'm finally moving into my new apartment over the next few days and will be painting the rooms and doing a little bit of touch-up work on the place. After tonight my posting availability will be a little sparse until I get settled in, probably Monday or Tuesday.

If anyone needs to GMPC me feel free. I'll be trying to keep up but I might lag behind a little!

26 Calistril 4713 – Meet the other Knot

As always, Drisella is followed by her shadow into the study. Not simply the true shadow cast by her body, but the shadow cast by her very soul. The Walker in Darkness moves with phantom-like silence behind her, and at times its chitinous, lashing tail seems like it may well be hers. As it ambles out of her silhouette, its six-eyed stare focuses on the members of the seventh knot, watching them all intently. Drisella's posture and demeanor seems different to the members of her own group, as continuing transformation from cold, frightened young woman to something beyond her years. First it was the dress and the clean attire changing her appearance, now it is the fluidic calmness that seems to accompany her movements.

"Drisella," the young woman introduces herself without the flourish of a surname, but rather something more sterile. "Ordinal adjunct of the Demagogue; Weaver in Silence." Letting her stare flit up and down the woman that was so coldly regarding her, Drisella crooks one corner of her mouth up in a wry smile. "This," she motions to her companion, "is the Walker in Darkness."

gtthyjujaetffgfdsg my post of meeting the other knot didn't go through!?

8(

Working on a new post. I could've sworn the one I did over the weekend posted.

I'm good at the moment, about to leap into the Knot scene.

We are riding the express line to crazy-town here.

Dris would be up for meeting the other group, definitely.

...aaaand second post done. Whew.

From its position on the floor, the Walker in Darkness observes Drisella. The young woman is quick to settle on the floor, legs bent to the side and dress rumpled. The puzzlebox is laid out between the two of them, and Drisella works feverishly to align the configuration. It isn't a simple matter, and Tiadora hadn't given her the combination of panel movements and lock slides necessary. In a way, it is a learning exercise, a test in critical thinking.

It takes ten minutes for Drisella to configure the box in such a way that it opens, much like the Chelish Crux had, but instead of emptying out an extradimensional space, this one does... nothing.

Or seemingly nothing.

While Drisella waits, wide-eyed and expectant for some grandiose display of power from the magical device, she is wholly unaware of the silk curtains behind her moving with a semblance of life. They draw away from the wall, as if being pulled by some unseen force. The curtains wrap around a humanoid shape, like a loose robe around a regal Taldan senator. The shadows of the room grow darker, candles dim, and in the empty space where a body should be, swirling masses of smoky darkness take on the vague silhouette of limbs. The ends of the curtain remain anchored to rod and wall, pulled back and stretched taut.

"There is a secret song at the center of the world," a whispering of voices emanates from within the shadows, not merely one, but many. Drisella turns around sharply on hearing that sound, her eyes wide with fright. Her heart races, terror has come over her, and yet she smiles. "Its sound is like razors through flesh."

Licking at her lips, Drisella leans forward and stares at the creature's projection in wordless awe. It, too, stares into her with nonexistant eyes. A shaky, hoarse question slips past Drisella's lips. "How?"

"The box. You opened it. We came." The answers are terse, simple and efficient. It raises one smoke, ephemeral hand and directs a finger towards Drisella, indicating her guilt in the part of their arrival. Her breathing hastens, and as Drisella searches her mind for questions, the specter of kyton expression never looks away from her.

"She--" Drisella reconsiders, "Tiadora said you-- your relationship with her was complicated. Explain." Taking a tentative step forward, she watches the way the smoky shadows undulate and ripple when it speaks, as if it were vibrating with each sylable.

"We were once of Hell," the kyton expression whispers. "But my people seek to escape form, to escape prejudice, to escape all restrictions that wantonly encage us." It motions towards itself, many voices speaking as one to the needs of the many. "To this end, we voluntarily migrated to the one place in all existence where the body becomes muted, and voices, philosophies, and sensations are amplified. We are ascetics, the darkness our endless meditation. Hell could not contain our desires."

Drisella looks down to the floor, briefly, then back up to the expression of the kytons before her, taking another step closer. "When I met you," she presumes of the shadows, "you-- changed me. Tiadora didn't think anything bad of it, but the inquisitor who captured me... called me-- called you evil." Furrowing her brows, she tries to comprehend the moral construct of good versus evil. "Am I? Are-- are you?"

It tilts its head to the side, reiterating the word as if unfamiliar with it. "Evil?" There is no curiosity or amusement in its voice, however. "Such a small word to sum up our people, our culture, and our millennia-old ideals. We have little belief in the concept. We have seen holy men sacrifice innocents and be called saints. We have seen mothers who stole only to feed their children go to the gallows. We perceive evil to be an artificial construct, a mere description created by frightened clerks so they can determine whether one’s actions fall within or outside their narrow visions for what reality should be."

The kyton expression waves a hand through the air, flippantly, its voice always level and measured, always the hiss of wet wood on a fire, or silk sliding over stone. "Someone has told you that we are evil, and why wouldn't they? We seek to enlighten. To reveal secrets of reality, rebirth, immortality, and divinity that no creature that calls itself ‘good’ would wish to see revealed. Surely our words are heresy in every faith where the blind follow the sighted, for we promise to reveal wonders inherent in every worthy soul, wonders the deities claim are theirs alone."

"But are we evil? Are you? We believe in potential. We believe that some creatures are without significance and not worthy of our hand raised to save them. Conversely, we believe the multiverse blesses some beings with extraordinary traits, with the potential to do—to be—great things. The fact that we exist to seek out such potential and help it flourish means that regardless of what you believe about such small words like ‘good’ and ‘evil,’ inarguably the cosmos has guided me to you, and as we believe in the power of that cosmos." Then, more forcefully it states, "We believe in you."

With one hand cupped over her mouth, Drisella steps closer to the kyton. Her breaths are frantic and short, and she comes as close as she can to the expression of shadow and velvet without leaning against it. "Why me?" she whispers against the velvet.

The kyton rests one smoke hand against Drisella's shoulder and draws her closer. With the other, it lifts her chin up to look into its featureless face. "It is not hands that summon us," it whispers to her, lifting its hand to touch a fingertip to her brow, "It is desire."

Then, before Drisella can ask another question, she feel a sudden and sharp pain on her forehead. There, where her summoner's mark should appear when her eidolon is called, flesh begins to fissure. She flinches, first, then tenses and struggles.

Then, as she screams in agony, the kyton whispers reassurances to her.

"Oh, what wonders we have to show you."

____________
After this encounter, whenever Drisella has Walker in Darkness summoned, both she and Walker will have an open wound on their forehead in some sort of geometric shape or symbol. I haven't found a good one yet (and am taking recommendations!) This is Drisella's summoner mark that both she and walker should have had since session 1 (oops!) but hey, cool way to introduce it now!

 
  26 Calistril 4713
 
 
The others hadn't seen Mikhail for a quarter of an hour, at least. When he re-opens the door to the lab to exit, they don't see Zargo hunched in a corner in fear or his glazed-over eyes filled with terror and hate for Mikhail. He walks up the stairs and finds the others awaiting his return in the music room. He nods to Barnabas, giving him the subtle cue that Mikhail elaborated upon his earlier statements to Zargo. He finds Drisella, making sure to keep a fair distance from her and her shadowy pet. He leans over to the girl and whispers to her, "That one will not bother you again."

Drisella's eyes slowly lift to meet Mikhail's and there's a doe-eyed stare offered to the dhampir, one that lingers for a moment too long before anything is said to break the awkward silence between words. "He didn't," she implies, perhaps contrary to the repugnance and fear she showed earlier. But that is what Drisella is, proven by her distant stare and awkward silence. "Thank you."

She is contrary, she is strange, and she lives within those moments of awkward silence between words.
 
 
 
 Later...
 
 
 
Rows upon rows of votive candles illuminate the shrine to Asmodeus within the manor. Darkly painted walls of rich umber are draped with sagging curtains of crushed velvet in deepest crimson. The hardwood floor is smooth under Drisella's feet as she walks in, and Walker in Darkness announces its presence with a click of claws with each step. Far from the entrance, a tiered alter laden with silken cloth in three shades of red is topped with an iron icon of a five-pointed star, beneath with a granite bowl has been placed.

Sitting cross-legged on the steps leading up to the altar, Tiadora looks relaxed, if not languid. Incense burns around her from concealed aspergillum in blind alcoves. "You look like you belong in here," she comments of the young woman, "but we both know you don't, do you?"

Leaning forward, Tiadora picks up a small object bundled in black satin from the step beside her. The older woman's stare meets Drisellas, and as the younger woman's pace picks up, Walkers slows down. Eventually, the usually protective beast settles down on its haunches, then lies down on the floor, chin on its crossed paws like some sort of grotesque hound.

Drisella's heart races in her chest when she sees the right angles and straight lines betraying the shape beneath the cloth where sharp corners below fabric draw taut. Tiadora glances to the concealed object, then sets it down in her lap. "When you arrived, I half expected to see you in a much less... whole condition."

The notion elicits a raised brow, but otherwise silence, from Drisella. Tiadora looks down to the cloth-wrapped object in her lap and continues. "I'm sure you've already been told that your soul is spoken for." She looks up to Drisella, who has come to sit beside her on the stairs, matching her posture and languid stance as if attempting to emulate "natural" behavior.

"Souls and strings, the ephemeral things, tie us all together," Drisella opines in a sing-song manner, weaving her fingers through the air as if a puppeteer controling a marionette. Tiadora lifts one brow, then takes a slow, patient breath.

"I believe what you encountered before your... arrest, was an Ostiarius." The last word, spoken by Tiadora, elicits movement from the Walker, and the creature now regards her with a turn of its head and all six glistening eyes. "The Ostiarius are Kyton, entities that we of the faith,' she motions to the iron star, "have a complicated relationship with."

Drisella's expression is one lacking in comprehension. Not of the basic concepts, but of the higher-order ones. Tiadora glances to Walker, then back to Drisella. "You don't even know what you experienced, do you?" It isn't so much indignation at Drisella's ignorance, but pity that Tiadora feels. "Much as I am owned by Asmodeus, you are claimed by a greater power. Some eremite force from the deepest shadows has chosen you for a purpose. One that I, and it seems you, are unaware of."

Rising to stand, Tiadora clutches the concealed object in her hands. "Your eidolon, the... Walker in Darkness?" Tiadora looks at the creature inspectingly, "it is a part of your very soul. However, when you had your encounter with the Ostiarius, it was changed. It reflects your soul, now, comingled with the essence of kyton logic and desire for perfection. It, like the powerful eremites, consumes the distinctive qualities of others to add to its own uniqueness and perfection... and therefore your own perfection."

Tiadora threads an errant lock of hair behind one ear, and regards Drisella with a halfway-idded stare. One hand rises, and she brushes her knuckles against Drisella's cheek. "I understand, now, what I did not when you arrived. Unlike other Kyton, who show their transformation on the outside... you express yours through Walker. Your transformation is taking place not here," she says with a gentle brush of her thumb across Drisella's lips, and then moving her hand down "but here," she taps her sternum.

"The heart yearns," Drisella whispers, looking at the covered object in Tiadora's hand. It directs the older woman's stare to the black satin, and then elicits her to remove the cloth covering, revealing an ornately fashioned wooden puzzlebox with brass fittings. She offers it out to Drisella, placing it in the girl's raised palms.

"This is not yours," Tiadora clarifies, "it belongs to the Cardinal. But," she withdraws her hand from the puzzlebox. "He has seen fit to allow you to use it. The device communicates across the vastness of the planes and can, for a time, link your mind with that of a kyton and allow you to learn from it."

Taking a step back, Tiadora looks to the Walker in Darkness, then up to Drisella. "When you are finished, return it to me." Tiadora needn't say what would happen if Drisella chose otherwise, even the implication of a threat isn't warranted here.

Neither shares a farewell to the other. Tiadora leaves within the awkward silence between words that Drisella lingers in, and when she shuts the door to the chapel, Drisella is cradling the puzzlebox to her chest as if reunited with a long-lost friend.

When the door clicks shut, Tiadora exhales a breath she had been holding in, and closes her eyes slowly.

Deep breaths.

First post done. Split up her and Tiadora's meeting and her use of the box into separate posts. Given the Cardinal's level of power I figured he may have a few unique magic items lying around. This is basically just a plot-device to give Drisella some answers/have some exposition, but I imagine it is a questions/day item that uses contact other plane as a base, but provides more wordy responses.

Also, working on a response to the end of the "inspection" and then some other posts!

I'd actually like to either write out in a PM or play out in a post Drisella's, uh, "account" of her history. Her perspective is a little skewed.