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Enjoy, Vretiel!
Iskra is content for the most part to remain seated, sitting with poise and decorum in a fetching black gown replete with elegant pearls at the hems and fabulous black shoes. It is, in short, a outfit fit for a demure noble lady, doing wonders to accentuate and smooth, to hug and to flow.
When the time comes for introductions, she rises and gives a gracious curtsy. "My lady, my lord. I am Iskra Kustov, a former student of Bassy, recently returned to town while on leave from my university studies. I agreed to assist our friends so as to help cleanse the manor and environs of any dangers to the people of Belhaim, whom I hold in such dear regard." That said, she sits once more, glass of wine in hand, and enjoys Vretiel's account tremendously, though she hides her smile with sips from her glass.
Iskra nods, gathering the tomes and slotting them into her pack. "Agreed. Shall we do one last check of the walls in case of secret doors?" That done, she follows the party back to Hunclay's manor.
Best of luck, Calli!
Iskra sits back on her heels, leafing through the books. She squints as she studies a diagram, then blanches at its implications and turns the page. "There is much to learn here. Though all of it ghastly, it would seem. Poor Hunclay. Selling his soul in a futile bid for immortality. And to die so ignominiously after all his efforts! Crushed by a tower. We should get these books back home and ponder what we've learned." She stands and nods to the others. "Unless there's more to explore here?"
I'm really sorry to hear that, Calli. I know words from an PbP comrade don't mean much in a time like this, but hang in there and make sure to take care of yourself.
Iskra floats to the ground and heads over to the chest. "Anybody here proficient in checking locks for traps? Or opening locks, for that matter?" She then turns to regard the dead monster. "And why on earth was there a zombie abomination in Hunclay's cave?"
Seeing the arrival of the zebub, and knowing what that might entail, Iskra swiftly casts levitate on herself and rises to the ceiling of the cavern.
Seeing Calli and Haruf flat footed with horror, and realizing how dreadful one of those blows would be to Kale, Iskra calls out a dire spell and unleashes a large bolt of flame from her palm which streaks at the undead abomination.
Iskra recoils at the sight of the monstrosity, then peers closer with obvious distaste. "It's some kind of undead," she calls out to the other. "I've never seen the like but... using slashing weapons if you have them." That said, she mutters a few arcane words and shoots off a bolt of magic that flies unerringly at the beast.
"Shall we give it a few minutes to see if anything responds to the light?" suggests Iskra, looking around at her companions. "If nothing does, then, well, let us by all means enter."
"Or I could do this," says Iskra, and casts light on a pebble which she then hurls into the cave mouth.
Iskra tries to stifle a laugh at the sight of poor Vretiel being buried beneath bleeding haunches, and makes absolutely no effort to help him. The more outraged his glances, the more she has trouble hiding her amusement, so that when he is finally relieved she wipes away tears from the corner of her eyes and steps up beside him to pat him on the shoulder. "My sincere and most profound apologies, dear Vretiel. I would have come to your succor immediately had I not thought you absolutely qualified to deal with any and all such challenges. Here, let me help." That said, she casts a quick cantrip, cleaning his outfit and hands of all stains, and leaving him looking as fresh and composed as ever. ---- Upon returning to the cave, Iskra averts her eyes from the fallen wolves, and instead focuses on the darkness within. "Can anyone see into the darkness? If not, perhaps we should throw some torches in to see what lies before us?"
Iskra follows silently, more to stay with the group than any desire for reward, and will rest as soon as possible so as to begin memorizing spells for the morning.
Iskra's shrugs. "I'm down to three spells... I may not be of much use if things get tough in there or go beyond one fight."
Iskra follows along at the back of the group.
Iskra smiles apologetically. "I'm all out of spells at this point. If we proceed, I won't be able to contribute much, I'm afraid."
The snapping of jaws, the savage clicking of teeth, the howls and snarls and the blood when combined with the sight of Vretiel's vomiting spiders all seem to get to Iskra. With a cry of something akin to rage, she plunges forward, her movements awkward, and with desperate courage she shoves her hand deep into the heavy hide of the dire wolf and unleashes an arcane spell. Electricity tears its way free of her hand and arcs in jagged bolts around the monster, crackling and lifting the scent of singed hair as it causes the beast's muscles to spasm. Iskra maintains contact just long enough for the eye-searing bolts to leap around the wolf for a good five seconds, then falls back, staggering.
Iskra then steps to the north, and placing her thumbs together, unleashes another gout of virulent flame.
Iskra spreads her hands wide, the tips of her thumbs touching, and then cries out a short, savage spell, the very words seeming to sear the air. Immediately a fan of coruscating flame washes out from her fingertips, the crimsons and oranges scalding the air as the fire washes over the dire wolf.
Iskra pulls back into the treeline, jaw growing tight at the sight of the corpses. She immediately scans the area around them, trying to discern if any other danger lurks close by, and then peers closer at the bodies, trying to identify their race and state of decomposition.
I'm confused again. Why did I get zapped twice? Was it because I took too long to post after asking my question? I'm fine with moving forward as is either way. I'm just not sure what happened there.
Iskra lets out a yelp as she falls out of the chair, smoke rising from her hair and fingernails, but quickly relaxes as Vretiel heals her. Rising to her feet, she looks down at her singed garments and passes her hand over them; the burns and tears immediately disappear, leaving her immaculate once more. "I am nothing if not determined, Kale," says Iskra with a wry smile. "Perhaps too much so."
Ah well.
Iskra gazes in wonder about the observatory, and drifts forward as if in a dream, brushing an astrolabe here with the tips of her fingers, pausing to gaze deep into the gears over there. She finally lifts her gaze to the telescope itself, and murmurs to no-one in particular, "Marvelous." Then, as if awakening from her dream, she begins trying to determine how best to swivel the telescope so that it points in the direction once blocked by the Witch Tower.
Iskra nods to Vretiel, and leads the group toward the observatory, intent on seeing what the fall of the tower may have revealed.
"That's a good idea, Haruf." Iskra bites her lower lip, but then gives a decisive nod. "I would be most curious as to what he was trying to see. Though... it's entirely possible we may not understand the import of the constellations he was studying." She takes a deep breath and smooths down her clothing. "Shall we continue? I'd rather check all the locked doors before we settle down to studying. For all we know, the zebub may still be about."
Iskra moves back into the kitchen, tapping her lips as she goes, then turns and rests one hip against the edge of the counter as she regards the others. "Hunclay was clearly fascinated with the Dark Tapestry, to the extent that he hired kobolds to help demolish the Witch Tower so as to open up a section of the sky for him to study at night. Yet... he met his death beneath the tower, correct? At the hands of the kobolds themselves? This doesn't make sense." She gazes at the older party members. "And why employ kobolds to demolish the tower in the first place? Why not simply raze it himself? It was his tower. Who would gainsay him if he hired locals to knock it down? Why the need for secrecy?"
It's a lot to absorb. A lot is revealed in very short order, and Iskra fights to keep her features schooled, to not widen her eyes or otherwise alarm Mathezic. When he reveals the cave's location to the north, however, she can't quite hold herself back. "Looting? That's awful. Are they - well - skilled at that kind of activity? Or are they regular folk who are unwittingly risking their lives?" That said, she takes a step closer. "And, ah - working with the kobolds? Do you know to what end? And why the Witch Tower had to fall? What was Hunclay driving at, Mathezic? Do you know?"
Iskra was about to enter the room after Haruf, but backs away quickly, dancing aside really as he exits rapidly. "What is it?" Her voice is nearly breathless with alarm. "A trap? An enemy?"
Seeing that nobody seems ready to tackle the door, Iskra gives a gentle nod and moves to stand before it. She focuses her breathing, places both palms together, and then begins to intone arcane words under her breath, speaking in a monotone. Her words grow in intensity, and she separates her hands so that they're palms up. Fingers curled as if she's gripping the bar on the far side of the door. Carefully she raises one hand, and then, still whispering, pushes at the barred door.
"Does anyone here have a way with locked doors?" Iskra casts a hopeful look around the group. "I must admit to be of limited help here."
Iskra raises an eyebrow at Vretiel's comments, for a moment assuming he's being fanciful, but then she steps closer to the stove and holds out a palm and feels the heat still radiating from its surface. "Perhaps a permanent unseen servant?" she asks the elegant witch, one eyebrow arched in surmise. "From Hunclay's unsavor habits I could easily imagine him preferring to be attended by mindless automatons over potentially disloyal locals." So saying, she whispers some command words and makes an arcane gesture.
Slipping past Vretiel, impressed despite herself at how calm he's remaining during this fight, even as the Schir roars and seeks to disembowel their companions, Iskra hurries over to where Calli is fighting, and waits for the right moment to reach out and touch her back. A small park flies from her finger to the woman's armor, and Iskra pulls her hand back. "For good luck!" she says.
Iskra mutters beneath her breath as the demon tears free of her webbing, then fairly gapes as it launches itself with incredible acrobatic finesse over the heads of the others. Still, even as it lands she's moving, pulling free a small, gleaming bag of tar from her pouch which she hurls at the creature with all her strength.
The tanglefoot bag explodes just before hitting her target, enshrouding it in black goo which quickly hardens into resin-like ropes.
Iskra's obliges, stepping forward just far enough so that she gets a line of sight on the horror. Raising her hand, she quickly intones an arcane phrase, and a gobbet of webbing leaps forth to engulf the back of the room.
Iskra nods uneasily along with Vretiel's comments, her eyes drifting over the runes, the antechamber, the larger room beyond. Without realizing it she draws her slender shoulders up a little, hugging herself as she does so, her mouth thinning to a line. "I shudder to think what sort of entities Hunclay summoned here," she says quietly, "Given his obsession with the Dark Tapestry. Here, Kale. I don't think there's anything within, but just in case, let me bestow something upon you." She softly speaks the words to a spell, the words ringing with power and righteousness, and traces complex patterns in the air before her. When she's finished, she reaches out and touches Kale's shoulder. A shimmering field of gold motes appears all around her at a distance of one foot, then fades away. "That should protect you from being touched by any evil summoned creatures. The spell will end if you attack or touch them first. It should also greatly enhance your ability to resist their attempts to control your mind in any form... as well as making you harder to hurt and more resistant in general." She gives Kale an almost apologetic smile and squeezes her shoulder briefly. "Good luck."
Iskra moves up alongside Vretiel and scrutinizes the sigils, tapping her chin as she does so.
"Hmm, yes. That, and... here. The connection, if you follow this elliptical curve... it connects this word of binding with this symbol of the Abyss... the thirty seventh level, I believe. Strange. I haven't seen or heard mention of this conjunction before. It should be most effective however." She steps back and scrutinizes the entirety of the door. "Blackened iron, of course. A fitting receptacle. Yet... unlocked?" Iskra looks sidelong at the others. "A telling detail. I would hazard to guess that the chamber beyond is empty as a result - basic human psychology would have Hunclay lock the door, mundane as it may sound, even with this bevy of arcane protection. Shall we?" If nobody protests, Iskra pulls the door open.
She gives a wry smile to the others as she emerges from her reverie. "There are some caves to the north off of Ol' Devy Road that might serve as a good place to start our explorations - I recall being too nervous at the time to venture into their depths when I stumbled across them for the first time. Maybe now is the time to see what lies within them?"
"A cave?" Iskra taps her lips in thought. During her apprenticeship in Belhaim, Iskra had often taken refuge in long if imprudent walks around the township, searching out isolated spots of beauty, forgotten glades where butterflies danced or isolated pools where she could write to the sound of trickling water. Had she ever come across a cave that might suit such a purpose, or heard of one in tales of the town's past...?
A thin line appears between Iskra's brows as she mulls over Calli's words, and she crosses her arms and tucks in her chin, her ebon hair slipping from where she'd tucked it behind her ear to whisper across her jawline. "Well - I suppose it's possible Hunclay was communing with this dragon's spirit... after all, he seems to have been rather indiscriminate with whom he spoke. But then, why might this spirit be making demands? Passions and desires are the province of the living." She catches a strand of her hair between her lips and chews on it absentmindedly before glancing back up at the others. "Most likely - if this was indeed a dread and powerful dragon from history - someone else has taken up the name in the hopes of benefiting from its reputation. A cheap move, but no doubt an effective one... at least, this pretender seems to have had Hunclay on his heels."
I'm imagining it's akin to the old pulp Weird Tales from your last post? If so, awesome ;)
Iskra glances at her new friends. "It would seem that this Hunclay was indeed up to no good; perhaps we should be thanking the kobolds for stopping his secret research before he got much farther. Anybody who was willing to go to these lengths to learn about the Dark Tapestry could not have been in their right mind. Zebub's, imprisoning entities such as Maff... I fear there is yet much more to learn about Hunclay." Iskra turns to Maff. "I know my words cannot mean much, but I apologize for your treatment, imprisonment, and torture. If we can find this dust that will dispel the wall of light and allow your freedom, we shall be sure to return and ensure that your captivity comes to an end." That said she hesitates, realizing that she's deviating from Vretiel's script. "Did, ah, the wizard mention any other associates or parties with whom he was collaborating on this research? People that we could, ah, interview, to learn more about what was going on here?"
Iskra marvels at the shadowy figure, at her strange medley of menace and seductive power. From her archaic form of speaking to her her assertiveness even while held prisoner, Maff seems an entity to be wary of at the very least. Standing to one side, arms crossed, Iskra searches her memories for ought that could be of use here: some hint as to Maff's true nature, perhaps, or to piece together something of Hunclay's interests from her revelations.
Vretiel, your last post was pure gold. I'm going to have a blast just following you around this adventure and waiting to see what you say next. Well played!
Iskra places one slender arm around Calli's shoulders as she simply admires Vretiel's golden tongued loquacity. Her eyes sparkle with amusement, and she almost finds herself believing his spiel; had they come here to deal with a zebub, or to interview it? Leaning over, she whispers in Calli's ear, "This new friend of ours is a positive menace. We'd best beware lest he convince us to start a fashion boutique or begin offering concierge duties to wandering monsters." With a grin, she waits for the response, the words to a number of spells dancing on the tip of her tongue.
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