GM Bill Laori Vaus's page

"Fan! Old Pilts wasn't a fan," Laori scoffs. "He wanted to own Salvator. To control him. We want to exalt Salvator. We want to appreciate his works, not hide them away. I'm willing to take those paintings off your hands, by the way. I'll pay good money too." She jingles a pouch of coins.

"Salvator will be safe with us. You can trust me on that."

If she's hiding something, she gives no indication. She seems quite sincere.

Laori picks up on Salvator's despondent answer and offers, "I can escort you back to my order, if you'd like, Salvator. There are a great many things we'd like to discus with you about your art and inspiration."

"That mercenary's name was," Laori then whispers, "Kazavon. *giggle*" She looks about from Wednesday, to Firdall, and then Tiadora. "And they say he was a cruel man indeed, that is, before the history books lose interest in him."

She picks up the one with the tusked camels. "Many centuries ago, after the Pit of Gormuz vomited forth Rovagug's destructive spawn, one of them tore across the land of Vudra, leaving destruction in its wake, terrorizing the people of the surrounding kingdoms. These brave N'Darri tribesmen raced through the trail of destruction to seek aid. They found it in Zon Kuthon. By giving themselves and their people over to him, they were able to save their people from the destruction and became a Chosen People of the Midnight Lord."

Laori points at the painting. "I've never seen the man before, but that castle in the background is something I have heard about. That's Scarwall and it's important to the history of my faith. Several centuries ago, a mercenary captain was sent from Ustalav to fight the orcs of Belkzen with his troops. He did well enough that he built a fortress to rule part of the orc lands himself rather than return to his patron. That fortress was Scarwall and it was dedicated to the glorious worship Zon-Kuthon... so of course there were all sorts of beheadings and impalements," she adds cheerfully.

"I think Scarwall and," she indicates the other two paintings from Pilts's bedchamber, "the subjects of these paintings mean that you are blessed, Salvator! Blessed by Zon-Kuthon himself!"

Of the other two paintings, one depicts a thin humanoid draped in shadows standing between huge dolmen - his eyes are a piercing blue - so brilliant as to almost glow. The other depicts a rugged mountain range standing over a desert under a harsh blue sky - a quartet of tusked camels ridden by tribespeople race across dunes made of tiny skulls.

Laori enthusiastically points out, "See! That first one is Zon-Kuthon! And the second one is of events described in Umbral Leaves, Zon's most holy text!"

Hi, Wade!

"Oh, no, Salvator's work is reasonably well known about Varisia, but not that far outside of it yet. Though there are some of us a bit more interested in the arts who like to keep our eyes open for masterpieces that are clearly inspired... and inspirational." She starts looking through the paintings and is quickly drawn to one of them.

The painting depicts a handsome man in the process of peeling away the flesh of his arms as if he were taking off a pair of gloves. Underneath, his arms are muscular and covered with glittering blue scales. The man’s expression is one of delight, yet his eyes are empty pits of blackness. Half seen in the shadows beyond him are thousands of humans impaled on towering wooden poles erected in the shadow of an indistinct shape looming on the horizon—perhaps a castle, maybe a mountain, but likely something more.

Laori's eyes widen and her voice becomes a bit more breathless. "Whoa, hoh, ho! Look at this one here! It's incredible! It's almost like he could walk right off this canvas. And those brilliant blues. A Salvator Scream specialty. Oh, my Zon! This is amazing work, Salvator. Absolutely stunning!"

Laori laughs at Firdall's observation about her chipper-ness, "I admit, I'm a little different from the rest of my fellows. They're much gloomier Guses than I am. But I can't help it. The pain, the suffering, the baring of the soul's torments for all the world to see - it's all just so exciting! I suppose that's what drew me to him and it's what keeps me going."
"Oh, but pish! You don't want to know about me and all that, do you? Salvator is WAY more interesting. I have got to know where you get your ideas. Have you seen a man like this one before?" she asks, indicating the man with the empty pits as eyes.

"Hiya, Wednesday!" Laori beams at Wednesday's introduction. "Thank you ever so much for spiriting Salvator from a dreadful fate at the hands of a washed up actor. You have done the art world a great service."

Responding to Salvator's surprise, she says, "Why, Salvator, everyone knows you. Your brushstrokes, your vibrant color! Oh, you clearly show the signs of such an exquisitely tortured soul! And that's why I'm here. *giggle* I want to know what inspires your art. How do you paint such beauty?"

The question is almost immediate followed by an exclamation of joy and a torrent of talk. ”It IS you! Oh, thank Zon you’re alive. I was soooo worried that something really, really bad had happened to you, especially once I heard that dreary, old actor had his men kidnap you. But now you’re out and free and these must be friends of yours. I’m Laori and I’ve been looking for this man for some time.”

All of that more or less said in one breath by a cheerful looking elf with dark hair and eyes and a wardrobe that doesn’t seem to match her perky demeanor - she wears spiked chainmail and there’s a spiked chain hooked onto her belt.