Except not really, right? Because she's on contract for Season Two?
Because if we're striking in anger, Gris is en queue.
I've been explaining his NOT doing so as a sort of leaving it to Fortune, what with the Lethal Accident spell hanging.
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"Want is too strong a word. But I'll take it in hand. Its powers are not beyond me, even if my studies aren't as broad as Kendal's.
Gristav helps with the overall looting of Bojasc's form. Reflecting perhaps on the brute's mindfulness even in the best of moments, even unbent by Lil's magics, he dryly observes, "And now our Braddon is next in line to fall, like this, for her. And we appear to be accepting, of that."
"Braddon, you're not in your right mind. She's got a spell on you. We are no safer with you in charge of her than if Bojasc had the job. You're no less her creature, her slave. I would end her for your freedom, but it seems some thin majority unweights her crimes and the risk of her, and your freedom, to less than her promises. And yet, I, somehow, am our fool." Gristav waves his unstaffed hand in the direction of Lil's motion, and joins Snake as wary escort.
There are respec rules, if Braddon were to fall into the bed and tutelage of some passing woodswise wanderer.
I would ride with you lot, under Joana's banner, gladly. But things do come to ends, and that would be a different shade of glory, I suppose. I don't want anyone who has to say no, to feel they've failed me. I would understand. And stop or ride on, we've had a good run. I've been busy, too. Lost the IT gig I had for 13 years when the new owner moved my function to Colombia. Mid-50s in Covid season not a good time in either cycle to look for work, and that was depressing. But I'm currently somehow still 'Holiday' seasonal help with the USPS, and while that's not the same money, it's been great every other way. It's nights, though, which makes days sort of lost. And still doing the single parent thing. So yeah, I would understand busy. My biggest issue is that Gristav would have to be and stay charmed to let Lil walk. Profit is not going to get her forgiven, not by Gristav, not for Larur. But ThornRune will perhaps neglect to use Bolbo's second saving throw against the incoming charm. It's a bit meta, but in service to the sim. If you lot all want a reverse-harem sim with Lil at the center, I'd say Braddon's enchantment and the indulgence of Lil are some good first steps. Calling it role-play is a poor trump card when it requires _not_ role-playing to make it work. But I'll fall in, and march off that cliff with you all, visions of the Tarot's Fool in my head. Or if Gris isn't charmed, expect more drama. It'll at least be role-play. :)
You all do realize she'll just Charm us all one by one? The restraints we might put on that require keeping her from sleeping too many hours en bloc, and stressing her between. Gristav, for one, would not favor that duty. He can, however, bring himself to kill her.
"And how good a bet are you, then? As a handicapper, I'd have to look at the record of your partners, and their ends. The accountant, short of hearing your plan for his rescue, he seems disposed of. Disposable. The thug-", he said, gesturing toward the crumpled Bojasc, "Similar. The gambler, dead at his hand, far as you knew, though that card's been tipped. The dwarf..." Gristav had to stop, and took a slow breath before setting his newly stone-grey eyes back on her. "Though, he wasn't your partner. Just tell us, is there one, any one, who's profited, of their association with you? Has there ever been?"
"All the lives lost to the last wave, and any next. That's the cost. So, what's the worth, if not the cost?", Gristav asked flatly, rhetorically.
"Proceed."
"And if Braddon's freedom of mind, of heart, were at stake?", Gristav growled. "Because it is. With insufficient time to gentle and wheedle. And what can you offer her? Will you let her go, to plot more murder? Are Zaiome and Larur not enough? 'Murder' is the wrong word, if she ends here, even if 'Justice' need be writ with shaking hand."
Gristav, staff in hand, moves toward the gathered persons and up the stairs. He's still just behind Tendal, on the stairs, when the events of recent days all refresh their burdens, and Gristav stops there, on the stairs, steeping in the recent bitterness, just in sight of its author.
'Twas the fight paused for Christmas,
Phillip was crouched with his blade to one side,
Merry Christmas all!
As he mounts into view, his staff shimmers in his hand.I don't think you ever picked up the staff, Gristav? Phillip carried it in as far as K13, I believe, but you haven't been back to pick it up. Sorry. Move to J13, pick up staff in adjacent hex?
"Miss, your defense fades with every strike. Surrender, and you might help us puzzle out your disposition against the conflicting demands your plots have brought upon us. Resist, and...", Gristav shrugs into the ellipsis, and jumps down onto the couch, moving South into the room and up the stairs next to Tendal. As he mounts into view, his staff shimmers in his hand.
"Seize her, bind her, gag and hoodwink her! Whatever blocks a blade might still let gain a grapple. Deny her eyes and voice. And take away that wand!"
I'll post this evening. Have to sleep now, working overnights.
The thrush? It was not about... but also maybe... "Phillip, kill Bojasc." Gristav said, drawing a mental vinculum.
Gristav looses an ensorcelled and enfortuned arrow as Lil rises, her trick-twig twitching toward Phillip...
"...What are You trying to tell me...?", Gristav asks softly, reaching for another arrow...
"She's still holding that wand.", Gristav reasoned aloud, in mathish tones Braddon might recognize but had never honored. Gristav ascended the bit of stairs and closed on his target. "Remember, she killed your gran; we can't trust her. Take the wand from her, or knock her out, or I'll feather her again." Gristav's dwarf-grey eyes were hard as flint. Alighting on Gristav's shoulder, the butterfly almost had an aura of menace.
Loving the scene where whatever Lil's tried, Snake's just giving back this silent glare...
"To mar such beauty...", Gristav mused, and loosed the arrow.
"It would seem not."
"Toss away the wand, Miss Scarlet.", Gristav directs from behind a nocked arrow. "You'll want your hands free, yes? If you do any else, I shall do my best to feather you. You're too capable to be treated incautiously."
"You've got to make her safe, by killing that demon!"
"We've got to kill that demon!", Gristav gambited, "And if that tail was from the Gendarmes, they could be here any minute." It was a bluff, of course, but led with a truth that was also a lie, it was also confusing. And Braddon was already distracted. Gristav, from his vantage above the sitting room, had a good enough view of Lil, that he had to forgive Braddon most of that distraction.
Gristav watched the slash at the fallen Bojasc, the opening it made the murderer's compromised defense, and the following thrust. It brought only faint satisfaction, just another dead Varisi catspaw, caught like they had been, in the Tiefling's web. "The men, perhaps all men, I can understand. But why the Varisi? What earned the Varisi so much death at your hands?", Gristav asked, not really rhetorically, of Lil. Almost absently, he also gestured toward the space before him, letting the edge of the arc described in his hand's motion include the Dretch, and exclude Phillip.
Braddon's got a bonus to hit against the prone (Bojasc, surely?), and Another free AoO when either of them rises, so there's that.
"Another moment, I'd have had this cleared.", Gristav smiled at Tendal, then at Phil as he rounded the corner. "Haste makes paste?", he offered, chuckling. He spun out the flaming flare of fae forces, with certain skill he'd never had, didn't have now, but had seen, and now, called on... and the webs between his companions seared away, shrunk, and fell to nothing in the way of magical things. Gladly, before the flames could run up the webs toward them. Past Tendal, Gristav could now see clearly, or clearly enough, the scarlet summoner of the restraints. The architect of the whole week's woes... No, the wave was probably not her. But Zaiome, and the cat's-paws slain at the Goblin, and... Larur. Wroth and Will and Wyrd all boiled in Gristav, all shone in his dwarf-grey eyes. That then met the teifling's. And Fate flapped a wing.
"I disagree, Magnimar", Gristav rejoins. "Review and recall, what we've learned of her methods. And make firm in your minds, all my fellows, the scent of the salvaged, whispering speach slabbed in Shoreleave. Let that scent override the perfume in the room."
The path to the Teifling swept clear at last, Gristav allowed himself the instant, appreciatively nodding, and saying, not so much to be heard, as simply felt, aloud, "You are lovely."
"Thank you, Mapache", Gristav says, observing the staff in the halfling's hand, "But I might be staying with these..." Gristav swirled and arced the flaming constructs of force in streaking circles, carefully above Phillip as Gris stepped past, and not to, bit into the closest web...
Avoiding the worst of the binding threads, he knew the flames would get to him, but not just yet. Before the flames caught him, he reached into memory, and through it, to times past and far, and spirits, now present, still now, now here. And as the flames rose, and he struck out at the further webs, he danced a touch more dandy, struck a breath more surely.
Then the flames rose, but he knew comfort in watching them also spread further, closer to Braddon.
Please check my maths: Gristav can walk _into_ the first available web, pass/fail a REF save (DC16?), perhaps be grappled, endure the burning webs (2d4), _still_ attack the next space, clearing it, and then both Gris' space and the next will burn clear? Three spaces cleared this round, just took a bit of wading? And then, without the south wall of the hallway as an anchor the remaining webs will mostly collapse? If so, he'll do this, because offering line of fire for Snake to curse Bojasc's To-Hit (or Lil's save, read on...) is worth 8 hit points. Bolbo can alight and Guidance Gristav for the save against whatever Lil might be planning. And then Tendal had been delaying, he might act before Lil, perhaps a Glitterdust or a summons? _Way_ worth the 2d4.
Just a reminder to all those delaying perhaps over several rounds, Gristav's staff remains where he dropped it. Perhaps it could be thrown into the last of the webs when that 5' section is revealed? Then it won't fill anyone's 'hand', and it's at least closer to the battle. Might could even have Gris take hold of it while the last webs burn away. Great scene for the opening credits. Or maybe he just has to fight with the Poi. :)
Checking himself in a sprint after Braddon, stopped of a sudden by a wall of wyrded web, Gristav draws a long breath, says "Bring this to me.", to no one in particular, and drops his staff. Raising and closing his fists before him, palms up, Gristav thought of the shadow in the creases of his hands, in the core of his grip, and how it grew as he started to open the clench. The shadows grew, and spilled over the pools of his palms, between his opening fingers, cascading toward the floor, thickening, shaping, changing, chaining, chains from handles now held in his hands, all hard as iron, black as night, and at the end of the chains, heads like... aspergilae? Clepsydrae? A flick of each wrist, and the shock shook down the chains, until at the odd head-parts, something worked within, and they flared to flames. Gristav, as if he knew how, as if it was all he'd ever done, set to spinning the paired and burning weights, in spins and arcs that flared the fire, and fed the flames that ate swaths of the webs with every pass, and turn, and step...
Wordlessly, Gristav waves a whisking wyrd toward the wizard, willing unwelcome waycruft... went.
"I'm not any less worried..."
Gristav steps between Braddon and the door. "No.", he mouthes. "Two." "No.", he says softly. "Three." "No." Braddon's boot forestalled, Gristav echoes Braddon's previous hard look to Snake. "Mister Kane...", Gristav asks, "Would you see, if you could open the door, quietly?
While Snake parsed the prompt and performed (presumably), Gristav gestured toward the sill, hoping wordlessly for Bolbo to sniff at any gaps above or below the portal, for the sought-after scent of their tiefling target.
Gristav lingers a bit at the gate, magicking a penny from an untouched pouch somewhere on his person, and gentling the gate closed-ish with the coin in the way of its latching.
"I wonder if another housekeeper's been laid low."
"Mapache", Gristav says softly, pointing to Phillip, but looking at Snake. "He stands.", Gris adds, putting two fingers atop his horizontally-held staff, "We lift..." Gris slowly raises his staff, near the wall, still horizontal, to the height his arm might reach. "He looks."
"If Snake and I slow-lifted my staff, just at one of those trees, with Mapache atop it, there might be leisure for a thorough look, before we commit otherwise.", Gristav suggests breathily.
"Happy to have your style, helping observers forgive my own, Tendal. Mayhap the staff hints of magery, fitting near the Cypherlodge. Yes, let us have that look."
"That green might screen a scaling of the wall, from the view of house. Enough for a look, at least? The wall's better than one man, by design, but less than three and a staff, and one of us formed, favored for lifting." Gristav lays two fingers, standing, more or less, on his leveled staff, and slowly raises staff and fingers as one, with a glance to the top of the wall.
"What say you, any or all? We walk past, to the Cypherlodge, in dribs and drabs, make a point of _not_ being one mass of men, as we might be observed going _up_. Conversely, with the lodge dismissing batches of viewers all at once, a group _leaving_ the lodge is not suspect at all, unless some of you are known by face, as worrying?" "That lets us all have a look and then a talk, perhaps a sniff, before any assault. If we can wait that long."
Producing by a flourished figure of his freemost of hands the savaged scrap of an oft-divided handkerchief, Gristav held it forth for Bolbo to alight on, to taste by his feet and scent, if the word was enough for how powerfully the butterfly's folk sensed such, by his antennae, what remained of the scent their quarry habituated. "If you find that, worry. Because I'll need to.", Gristav said as if he thought to be understood. The tiny creature fluttered ahead, as if it had. And the scrap fell through another flourish, to else-where*, as if it had never been. * elsewhere upon the magus' person, of course, safely stowed, though all thoughts were toward needing it no more in future, the nonce would hoard it held.
Realistically, (If that matters in heroic fiction at all?)... Can we get a cart on or to the right side of the river? Aren't the Varisi on the East side? So a cart (and animals?) would need a ferrying to the West? Fire we can manage, even what we carry ourselves could be enough, if a Silent Image were laid over the flames until well established. Such a spell can be laid on and maintained from 500 feet away. Gris or Tendal would need time to prepare it. I say Tendal, because the home invasion opening act is more Gris' thing, while the loitering in the upscale neighborhood seems more Tendal. Gladiators means telling more people our business, and if Lil's about, we're maybe handing her minds to flip on us. And then a dead gladiator is another affront card that'll be played against us in some future hand. More scouting would help us choose, from all the options. Bad scouting would choose for us. Gris will make clear, on a sighting of Bojasc, he'll lay on a curse that will harm the brute within the day. (a Violent Accident.) Might that plundered Alchemist's lab be enough of a source to scrounge some Urea from? That'd represent +1 damage and an additional 'touch' from a Frostbite spell (non-lethal, is the point). Oh yes, and be sure Bolboretta has had a sample of the cloth with Lil's scent on it. Luck may wish to attend. (As ever)
"I don't favor arson. She's known to favor drugs, as tools; there could be innocents in the building. And arson is an assault on the neighborhood; it would draw questions, and paying the ferrymen enough for silence will have those near them talking, when they spend it. Trail back to them, is trail back to us. We'd have to multiply the murder. Sometimes, it's as indiscriminate a tool as fire." "But we're using it regularly, it seems." Gristav was silent a long moment. "I can get us across the river and then dry again, all of us, any of us. But not a cart, nor horses. Can we source such in proximity, or do we need to plan also for the ferrying of the cart?"
"The divine, can... divine. And need not prove to any but themselves, guilt to be avenged at leisure. Add that some of us have proved loose of mind or tongue, and I think we'd just be choosing an amortized risk against an immediate one. But I've done that before, I'll not demur." "That said, the River and I have an understanding: She won't drown me, so Her current might keep the beasts of the flow from me while I sank a burden, perhaps, if She forgives the trespass on Her grace. We might explore the waters under the Goblin, perhaps find a place, rather than any place, to store or secrete a corpse. We might also find whatever the wave might have washed from walks, or wharves, or workplace, while we were at it." "And we could, all go, on that waterlogged walkabout. I would only perhaps recommend the reach of spears. The aquatic races favor such; the battle with the land-squids showed us why."
"Chatham is not Lil. Chatham is not home. Lil is in Chatham's home, is our best guess. Now, how do we discretely cross the river, lay hands on her, then bring her back? And where are we taking her? The scribe's quarters, below? Larur's niche? To the Mother? To the General?" "I know you all think I'm balmy and talk too much, but it's because I think, I think, sometimes not enough. I've learned to regret that, and walk many paths in my mind before tripping down one, in life." "If some men, either the group known to her, or not known to her, or those best for resisting any mind-bending magics... If some men got to her, and said Mother'd sent them, just ahead of others, that the first would warn of, and claim the second were working for the General... She might go with the first, to avoid the second."
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