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Emil is delighted when he reads the letter.
Emil suddenly stops, lowers the letter, and stares out the window of his humble room. "Where am I going to find jewelry?!? I need shopping advice!" And out the door he staggers, to find one his more frequent 'lady friends' for advice. And maybe some fun!
Emil gladly agrees to go to court on Remario's behalf when asked. And even more gladly partakes of the offered wine. = = = = "I'll drink to that," Auguste says. "I already have. And I'll do it agin!" Emil slurs cheerfully, raising his mug in salute. Emil is happy to assist in returning the owl and 'remains' to the proper family. He is confident in his own tale-telling, but would never turn down an opportunity to witness a master story-weaver like Auguste at work. (Any tips and tricks he might pick up can only help him when wooing the ladies!)
At the feeling that suddenly washes through him, Emil blinks, and looks suspiciously at his holy mug. He turns it upside down. Nothing falls out. "Oh. So THAT'S why the mugs always empty." "Well, if our mechanical friend has not seen anyone besides us recently. Then we can likely proceed with more speed? If no less caution."
Emil nods at the clockworks story. Although whether his wonder is at the tale, or at the talking clockwork itself, he does not say. Yet. "Well said Amantius! Hopefully the passage of time will have given rise to cooler heads, and we can restore Honoraria's honor. Speaking of ,..." Emil gestures to the box. "I believe that our benefactor will be glad to have this box of medals, ribbons and statements. Further proof to aid in the redemption of her honor." "Amantius, how recently has anyone else entered this chamber? Before us? Yon mechanical, magical guard dog seems to self repair, so I'm presuming that others passed through here not long ago?"
Emil makes certain that the group is all within range, just in case they have injuries he did not see them receive during the fracas, and salutes with his mug, releasing a pulse of positive energy around himself. The energy pulse makes those in it feel delightfully light headed for a moment, as if they just drank a shot.
As Thaddeus plays dodge-ems with the mechanical birds acid, Emil watches quietly from the side, not wanting to disturb Thadd while he is working, but looking as if he is trying to help by moving Thad's hands for him at times,...
Emil muses thoughtfully. "Auguste, you are perhaps the most traveled and learned of us. Do you think if I prepared you with a minor prayer, and could back you up with healing, that you could examine yon clockwork and find a way to fix it? At least well enough to travel safely?"
"I recognize the name 'Cenabra'. It's one of the long-standing aristocratic families in Oppara, generally placed in trusted positions in the bureaucracy." Emil says to no one in particular. He shrugs apologetically. "I'm afraid that none of us are likely to know much about constructs. Unless one of you is hiding a secret past as an Artificer's apprentice?" Emil glances around, hopefully. "No? Ah well. I could TRY healing it. But as it is not a living creature, I seriously doubt it would have any effect. Amantius? if one of us could get close enough to examine your injuries, could you talk us through how to help stabilize you? Or at least turn off that noxious leak so we could transport you to a craftsman who could repair you?" Emil turns and gestures excitedly to Dawn. "She's right! Think of the possibilities! If we can bring back this fine construct companion, we would have first-hand accounts of events regarding Honoraria and those around her. Not to mention justice for Italice Cenebra. We must try something!"
"What's behind door number one?!?" The priest of the drunken power asks in a whisper, then SLOWLY starts to open mentioned door,...
"Come along. No sense in dilly-dallying. I don't wish Our erstwhile 'competitors' to get TOO much of a head start!" Emil (carefully!) approaches the door with no visible lock. He glances back at the rest, then holds up the borrowed Alcasti longsword to the door. ,...
"NICE moves. Thanks for the manicure!" Emil grins at Dawn. He retrieves his swords, sheathes the rapier, but keeps the Alcasti longsword 'handy',... just in case.
Emil looks around, making sure there are no more 'hands', or worse, lurking in the shadows or the funeral niches.
"Ouch! Why you little,...!" Emil snags the stone hand, and shakes it vigorously in anger. "Not. The. FACE!"
Emil's hands snap forward with sudden flurry of speed, and snatches the stone hand clambering on Auguste's back. "It's all in the wrist!" Emil looks at the stone hand, and then at Auguste, his initial grin of success fading to one of uncertainty. "Um,... I'll throw it down, you smash it, yeah?" Emil Asks the bard.
"Turn around! Quickly!" Emil orders, dropping both rapier and borrowed longsword, and flexing his fingers in anticipation,...
"One moment. Ladies first and all that." Emil quips cheerfully, clearly back in his element now that the puns have started flying. Then the dashing priest glances over Dawni's shoulder to Auguste, still grinning.
"Oh dear. NOW this is getting out of hand!"
The dashing Cleric pivots on his heel to face Dawn behind him. "Excuse me my dear. But you have a little something,... right about,... THERE! Emil swings his borrowed Alcasti longsword down towards the scuttling hand on the floor between them.
"Oh I don't know. I think we've got it HANDled!" Emil retorts as he swipes as his creepy playmate, trying to scuttle back up the nearest pillar.
"Hah! A handsome blow! I told you. It's all in the wrist! Emil grins at Thaddeus.
;)
Emil reflexively swings his rapier at the stone hand at his feet.
His aim is good, his adrenaline gives the smack some extra 'Oomph!'.
"OH come ON! This is getting redonkulous!" Emil declares, seeing the effect (or rather, LACK of it) of Auguste's attack upon the stone appendage.
Emil does NOT shriek like a little girl as he continues to do an absurd dance until he can no longer feel the things on him. He looks at the thing now on the ground at his feet, blinking in surprise. Remembering the smashed statues in the previous room, he asks, "Does anyone ELSE get the impression that mayhaps our competition is a teensy bit better informed that we are?"
Emil pulls back his hand holding the Aldori sword, and tries to knock the thing off of his shoulder by punching it with the guard.
"OW!! Of all the,... GET OFF ME you,... No, NO! Not the face! NOT THE FACE!"
Emil pauses at the entrance, taking time to pull the Aldori longsword from his belt and properly preparing himself. He takes another good look at the room before dashing in headfirst.
Emil peeks past Dawn's own frame (pausing only the briefest of moments to admire it as he does so) to observe the 'frame' mentioned in the room. He takes in the scene at a glance. "Looks like our predecessors didn't stop at smashing the statuary in the entryway. I'm guessing,... enchanted guardian-golem of some sort? Magically repairing itself it looks like." Emil's eyes gleam with something dangerous. "Well then. I'd say our predecessors are doing us a favor. They can't be too far ahead. IF we run past such already disabled defenses, we can catch up to them while they wear themselves out clearing our path for us!" Emil grins. "If it doesn't respond to the symbols on the weapons we 'borrowed', Be sure to play 'whack the statue' on your way past! We dont want to have to fight it leaving now do we?" The cleric laughs. Emil pulls his borrowed longsword out and holds it defensively in his left hand, his rapier ready in his right. He judges the path before him, and dashes forward into the room. As he crosses the chamber, he holds the Crypts' longsword between himself and the animated statue fragments.
Sadly, the cleric is too busy running, (and looking good doing it!) to pay much attention to the moving frame. Or anything else, really.
"I guess the party is coming to us?" Emil looks about at his companions. He seems excited, but nervous. But his smile is quick and his rapier is sharp. And currently pointed at the door,...
Emil pats the 'borrowed' sword tucked into his belt. "I suspect that whomever preceded us had the same thought I did. They were just, not as polite about it." He says wryly, indicating the damaged statues. "Which means they may know something we do not. Everyone borrow a weapon. Just in case." He advises again. "Sounds as if our 'friend', or something, is not too far ahead. Tiem to introduce ourselves, I think." Emil says with a smirk, headed cautiously towards the closed door,...
"Interesting,..." Emil murmurs, pointing out that the weapons are fully functional, as opposed to mere decorations. The cleric picks up a sword and examines it. He tucks it into his belt. "These are here for a reason. It may come in handy. Perhaps as a key, or a ward against a guardian. I suggest that everyone borrow a weapon. We can return them on our way out." Emil pauses suddenly, makes a quick count of the statues in the hall, and of the weapons lying on the floor, being sure to count the one tucked into his belt.
Emil glances at the damaged statues, "Hm. Good question,..."
Emil enters with the others, and surveys the room.
The youthful priest perks up, his eyes flick back and forth, and he gestures towards the closed door with his rapier. "Does anyone else hear that? That metallic, scraping sound?"
"Oh. I thought ALL ladies loved horses." Emil drawls innocently as he approaches the NE corner. His smile flashes briefly before he turns his full attention to the door,...
;P Emil also pauses to admire the statue. "Now riding one of THOSE would be an adventure! Ladies love a good horse story. Certainly the tale would be worth a few drinks on a good nights pub crawl at the very least. Um, shall we?" The dandy asks, pointing his blade at the door in the NE corner,...
Emil follows his companions, cautiously.
"Very true!" Emil declares, drawing his sword in what he probably thinks is a heroic gesture. "And faint heart never won fair maiden!" he adds with a saucy wink at Dawn, and joins Auguste at the door, pushing it gently open,...
Emil follows the others inside.
"A Handy trick indeed." He agrees softly, unwilling to disturb the sanctity of the place. Until they discover that the sanctity has already been disturbed. As upset as the young cleric seems to be about the apparent disturbing of a holy resting place, he asks a simple, quiet, question. "Now,... How did a tomb robber even enter this particular tomb, considering the security on the entrance. And if they can pass that, why destroy a door? He asks, gesturing pointedly at the damaged door with his own rapier. Emil takes a swig from his mug. "Sorry. Nervous habit."
Emil pulls out Glory and tugs the sword partway from its sheath. "Any thoughts Glory?" He inquires politely. Emil shakes his head, disappointed but not surprised at Glory's continued silence. "Ah, worth a try at least." He sighs, putting the blade away. "Yes, let us try the key. The keyhole may vanish once more when the water evaporates!"
Emil studies the door as well, ...
"Hm, perhaps, Remaio did say that we would need this vial of holy water to enter,... and I dont see a keyhole, yet,... sooo,..." Emil pulls out the aforementioned vial of blessed water, (not as good as his own blessed brews, but still, good is good.), pulls out the stopper, and pours a little on the pegasus head.
"Indeed." Echoes Emiliano. "I admit I'm a tad jealous Aayef. I would give,... well, a lot, to be considered worthy enough by Glory to it speak to me. Just to hear it's tales would be a great honor. To be considered worthy of carrying and learning from her? Amazing." He fills the lad's glass with a touch of his finger and a murmured prayer. "To Aayef the Noble and Soldiers' Glory. May they find each other again in the future. AND have may both have new tales worthy of sharing to tell!" Emil salutes the table, toasting the lad, and drains his cup in one long pull.
Emil coughs softly in dismay, covering it with another swig from his favorite mug. "Yes. Well. I was merely trying to be encouraging. I certainly wasn't suggesting that we overrule his mother. That stare,..." The young cleric whispers to his companions. In his normal voice, and with his usual smile in place, Emil addresses the mother's concerns. "While I appreciate the lad's faith in us, I also respect your wishes milady. As,... somewhat of an expert in youthful follies and having more courage than wisdom at times, I completely understand your reluctance." Emil turns to Aayef.
Emil blinks, as if in confusion,and glances at his mysteriously empty mug. "My sincerest apologies. I seem to be rambling. I meant no offense milady. A most excellent meal. Thank you." A short time later, when he is sure that 'mother' is not looking, he gives Aayef an encouraging nod and a wink.
Emil manages to hide his amusement (mostly) at Aayef's discomfort at his warm welcome home. It is clear that the lad is well-liked, and not only by his mother. The cleric is obviously delighted by the invitation to dinner and rest in opulent surroundings. Despite his valiant attempt to seem cavalier about it. "It was our pleasure Ma'am, I assure you. We were glad to help, but he was doing quite well on his own." Emil nods towards Aayef. "He is a fine young man, with a good heart. You have raised him well. And Cayden favors the bold, I think he will do well." " You are most kind, and I for one would be most grateful to accept your invitation milady. Thank you."
Emil looks thoughtful. Clearly considering his words (for once) before speaking. "Well,... We WERE tasked with returning you safely to your mother. AND with returning Glory here to our employer. But there is nothing to prevent Glory from being returned to Remaio while being carried by Aayef, once he has let his mother know he is safe, of course." He looks at the sky as he muses. "I mean, I'm sure that Honoria's blade would be much more convincing at restoring her lost honor, if said sword were being carried by a noble-hearted person, which would encourage said blade to speak for itself on it's previous owners' noble actions,... Since it is the only one still living who was there to observe her actions and relate them." Emil shrugs. "Just thinking aloud." The cleric grins.
Emil pipes up confidently.
"Well, as a priest of the Drunken Cavalier, I can attest that there are many kinds of courage lad. And many kinds of battles. Not every battle is a conflict of steel, and not every drinking competition is a matter of constitution." Emil waves his once-again full cup for emphasis. He sips and smiles before continuing. "True that Remaio does not seem the war-leader-general type. Bound for personal honor and glory. But he does seem doggedly determined to restore Honoria's stolen honor. Which takes it's own kind of noble courage. And he seems the type to help others find their noble purpose, and perhaps,... glory." The young cleric looks sideways at the youth and the enchanted blade. "Perhaps even for a noble-hearted but over-looked youth, and an honorable but forgotten noble, steel-bladed companion." He grins.
Emil gives a small smile as he looks around, his eyes glazing over as he imagines what the place must have looked like in it's glorious, if distant, past. He points out the burlap sack in the sand to the others, but before he can go to investigate, he is surprised by the voice. "Cayden's empty mug!" Emil exclaims in surprise, but starting to grin as he does so. "A talking blade! I have heard the tales of such wonders, but never dared to hope I would see one for myself! Well-met Glory! And thank you for introducing yourself to us." At the swords' statement of the youth's potential, Emil barks another short, but sincere, laugh. "Well well Aayef. High praise indeed, considering the source is one who would know. Keep your head attached to your shoulders, and you will find yourself worthy of one of Master Auguste's tales as well!" The cleric salutes the youth with his mug. (Once again full to the top, and not with water.) And drains half of it in a single swig.
Emil's eyebrows raise as he realizes where the group is standing. Or at least what it once was.
"Well-Met! I am,... whoa!,..."
"Apologies. Apparently I am poisoned. Most unpleasant." The cleric notices that the cut from the scorpion sting was just a little larger than he had thought. And that his shirt is soaked with a lot more blood than he had thought,... "Excuse me,..." Emil mutters, holding aloft his travel mug and filling it with a whispered prayer.
A flash of golden light, and a wave of warm, fuzzy-feeling healing energy flows out from teh cleric to bathe all around him in it's golden glow.
"Beg your pardon. I am Emiliano. Pleasure to meet you sirra!" After his introduction, Emil takes another sip from his mug, and concentrates on 'cleric, heal thyself!'
The cleric wobbles a little bit (again, can't recall seeing him wobble from drinking too much), but after a few minutes seems to begin recovering his feet, and then looking much better.
"Scorpion tail for dinner anyone? I hear they taste just like lobster!" The Cleric of the Drunken Power calls to his companions with a grin, before attempting the more serious action of doing damage to said scorpion before it turns back to him!
Blissfully ignorant of anything amiss, (perhaps because HIS cup somehow has managed to acquire alcohol, despite the others lack of it,) other than what is finally plainly stated, the cheerful cleric nods vigorously in agreement. "Not to worry my Lady. If your son can be brought home safely, then we shall do so. On Caydean's honor I promise you."
Emil salutes Dawnilea with his mug, and outright laughs at Auguste's comment. "I suspect that a swift, successful, venture and return will satisfy ALL of our various entertainments and endeavors. Whatever they may be!" The dandy declares with a grin as he holds his mug aloft. The words of the Cleric of the Drunken Power slurring only slightly as he does so. Emil stands, surprisingly steady on his feet for one whose speech is slurring, no matter how slightly, and salutes their host and employer. "To a successful adventure. May we ALL get what we want. And never what we deserve!"
Emil nods. "I suppose that the ladies in town can live without me for a few days." he says with a grin.
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