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Dammit, I knew we shouldn't have given them that shrubbery.
I would definitely be interested Phil. Thanks for running!
Yes indeedy...just fell asleep putting my kiddos to sleep both Tuesday and yesterday. LOL
As Ibid moves to inspect the door and Haafiz appeals to Korshad personally, Miro keeps his eyes on the others around them. Those whose loyalties are in doubt. His keen green eyes roam over the surrounding faces and the halfling sees hope. It is buried under skepticism and the beginnings of the training that will see them as pacified servants for the remainder of their lives. The halfling starts forward, standing next to Finarin. "Yes, choices! We are not as we seem, as you might have already guessed. Behold Pooka, the fierce halfling warrior! Though he is small of stature, he is great of heart and strong of arm, and many a larger foe has fallen to his lance!" "And there Amaranti! A stronger man I have yet to see, and he fights for you and for freedom" "Haafiz, blessed of the gods, who seeks justice for the many and inspires doom in his enemies!" "Ibid! An old man though he looks, he can pierce a target at 200 yards and knows much that the average man does not. These walls are no match for his mind!" "Finarin Moonstep, whose weapons glow with eldritch energy that even the mightiest creature can not withstand!" "These are your allies, friends! We prepare to fight our way out of here, to seek answers, to buy your freedom with the blood of these despicable slavers. Your salvation is at hand...will you take it?"
Miro smirks at Finarin's words, "Which dogs, friend? The ones on two legs, or four?" He then steps up to Pooka, grinning, "My friend, I've come up with a most wonderful jingle, would you like to hear it? I call it Flailing Around." When you walk around all day, in the heat.
Flailing Around! Twist your hips and set your feet! Flailing Around! In just a moment you're ready for the beat!
Miro shares a smile with Korshad, recognizing him for what he is immediately...a broken man who likely delights in turning in his 'unruly' comrades to his masters to maintain his position. He couldn't bring himself to hate the man, though...after years of having any resistance beaten out of him, this was likely the best he could hope for, in his warped mind. The halfling studies their surroundings as he casually asks, "So when do we eat, Korshad? Is there anything we need to know about our masters? Anything that might offend them or upset them, should we do it? I, for one, want to avoid any kind of punishment, at all costs.
Hey folks, just wanted to let you know I'm hitting the real nitty-gritty with our system conversion. They took down the old one today, we'll spend the next couple days getting the new one ready, then spend all day Sunday starting up the new one and getting all our info entered while simultaneously fixing all the cracks that will inevitably show up. I might be ok posting, or I might not. After Sunday I should be doing much better, posting-wise, but I just wanted to forewarn everyone, just in case.
As the group enters the home, Jessica calls out for her mother and father. A return call in a nearly as lovely female voice, "Just a minute!" Out of the back of the house, a perfectly aged, 25 year age progression of Jessica steps out, grinning widely when she sees the young woman. She seems slightly taken aback by all the others at the priestess's side, but still hurries forward to wrap her in a hug. A young man who is obviously Jessica's brother is the next to arrive, waiting patiently and respectfully for his mother to finish before embracing the Shelynite. Finally, a man of about 50 appears. His dark hair has gone to mostly gray, but he still retains his handsome features. More reserved than the other two, he gives Jessica a brief pat on the back before stepping back. Jessica's mom, still glowing, grins at the priestess, looking about at her companions, "And who are all these fine people?" DM:
Jessica:
Something tickles at your mind as you speak to and hug your parents. Perhaps you have been gone too long...but you dismiss the idea as you look more closely. There are certain features that seem...off. Your father's chin is a bit more pointed, your brother's ears a bit too long, your mother's eyes more almond-shaped than you remember. Sunday & Delendir: Something, a slight ripple in the flesh of the brother, catches your eyes. Perhaps the young man had clenched his jaw, but as you watch, another slight wave mars his perfect facial features, a minute motion, but noticeable.
The wizard merely listens to his companions speak, seeming lost in thought as they attempt to convince the people of Waldsby to either flee through the portal or stand and fight. In truth, Coramus was napping on his feet, and he woke up to "running, too" The old man makes ready to run, then realizes that everyone seems to be still standing there. He turns his panicked stance into his go-to beard stroke, trying to put on an air of benevolent wisdom.
The good news is, Garroth, we got the rope off your neck. The bad news is, we had to remove half your neck to get to it. Yeah...sorry about that.
Coramus spends the better part of the afternoon and early evening working his magics, painstakingly inspecting the wolf cloak now and again, shaking his head as he sights an imperfection and again weaves the tendrils of arcane energy through the pelt to his satisfaction. He is quiet but intense in his work, focused to the extent of ignoring those around him unless they work diligently to rouse him. As it neared time to lay down to rest, he finally sat back, exhausted yet satisfied. The cloak looked much the same as it had, besides for the colorful diamond dust that could be seen like so much glitter when held to a certain angle against the firelight. After regaining his strength for a few minutes, he gathers up the garment and finds Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight. He approaches the goblin, holding open the cloak. "A brave hero like yourself needs a suitable cloak to wear, one that will inspire the masses and cause people to know him on sight. We wouldn't want anybody we chance upon to mistake you for just ANY goblin, now would we?" The wizard smiles gently, putting the cloak about Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's shoulder, clasping it about his neck. "There you go...a perfect fit."
Hey guys, sorry for the lack of posting. I was in Chicago the last few days. Flew in yesterday, then had a flurry of work to get done to catch up today. Should be back in the saddle tomorrow, so bear with me. :)
I'll give you guys until tomorrow to split things up and figure things out. That gives me time to recover from my travel today. I'll move it along tomorrow with Delendir's suggestion if no one adds anything else.
Miro smiles at the Octoman, holding out his empty hands. "Look, friend, we just need to use the book for a bit to tie up some loose ends. No need for this to get messy, ok? Can we do that, hmmm? Settle this without bloodshed? I don't know you, but I'm sure you're a rather fine...person. And I abhor my friends getting hurt. Be a pal and just let us have the book, ok?"
If you guys were against a wall I guess that would only allow one pair of flankers, so I'll keep that in mind going forward. I...I...I have no idea what you are talking about Garroth. I am clearly a human being. I don't even sparkle. And these wolves are just my homies for the next hour or so. Just helping me witness and testify to the non-believers up here.
Hey Sunday...why are you stabilizing? Or even unconscious? I think I gave the ok for retro cure wand action...just roll the cures in here to see how many were burned, and you should be at 28/45, I believe.
I think it is common sense to assume that the party would heal itself, if the means were available. Please try to tend to such things in the future, though. (And keep your status bars updated.)
Happy birthday, then. Your presents are: A long work week and canine death. Hope you're satisfied!
Alrighty...which way, guys? Delendir seems to favor a basement approach.
The group re-enters the room, making sure to avoid the books, for now. Delendir performs his usual theatrics with the door, and when he finds nothing amiss he opens it, revealing with a bit of humor a small corridor of about ten feet ending in another door. After a brief search reveals nothing of interest, the ranger proceeds forward, opening this new door and then entering into the chamber beyond. Piles of broken stone, dirt, and a few ruined pickaxes line the edges of this room. The floor in the middle of the room has been torn up to reveal an ancient set of stone spiral stairs, obviously of much older construction than the surrounding basement, winding deep into the bedrock below. a foul stink, like that of rotten meat, wafts up on a cold breeze from the darkness. Kiley:
As you enter the area, your vision suddenly clouds over for an instant. When it returns, you see the nobleman Aldern Foxglove in front of you. He appears sweaty, disheveled, and thoroughly insane, manic in his efforts to dig away at the floor of the room with a pickaxe. Every swing of the axe produces two words from the man, "For You!" You are quite sure Aldern is speaking to you directly. The pickaxe breaks through the floor finally, and suddenly a horde of groping, clawed hands reach up from the darkness beyond to pull the screaming Foxglove into the hole. Soon enough, the creatures, surely ghouls, come shambling out of the pit, intent on making Kiley their next meal.
The ghouls grab at Kiley, tearing into her flesh with claws and teeth!
As you all enter the room, Kiley seems to stand still for a moment, seeming concerned. The next thing you know, she is thrashing about as though she is being attacked, screaming in pain and terror. Claw and bite marks, angry red and bleeding, appear on her exposed flesh before she finally calms down and stops thrashing. The whole thing could not have lasted more than five seconds.
"Exactly! Just a passing band hellbent on exploration and thrill-seeking, and a bit of merry-making in between. Putting ourselves against the elements and the dangers that only the Northern Lands can provide. Or at least my companions. I'm just here for moral support!" The halfling winks at the guards, smiling amiably.
After averting disaster with Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, and summoning a badger to help with digging the grave of the Rider, Coramus stands at the brink of oblivion, his beard whipping in the wind, his steely eyes straight forward. He had given his word, yet he stood there, frightened beyond all belief. Almost four decades of running had his subconscious screaming at him to back away. Just pack his things, bid his companions farewell, and head farther south. He almost did. A shuffled half step back was taken, a whimpered gasp escaping his lips as he fought panic. He remembered. He remembered those women ripping the life energy out of that child, fueling their own youth. He would be returning to the land of the Winter Witches and their fell magics, possibly to end up as the meal for some creature, either physically or spiritually. The wizard swallowed hard, shaking his head. He gathered his courage and before he could have more second thoughts, he launched himself through the gates! ------------- He hit the ground on the other side, landing flat on his face. Getting up, he turned a bright shade of red, brushing off the snow from his garments. "Apparently they put a f%+$ing tree limb or something in front of the gate. What a joker that guy was, eh?"
Solara studies Jolistina for several moments. For her part, the blonde-haired elf giggles, giving what is clearly supposed to be an innocent grin. Finally, Solara looks to Tolenn and nods grimly. "First there must be penance. Then shall we test her resolve with the holy flames of Sarenrae, who will cleanse the stains of sin from her spirit, or consume her and speed her to whatever hell awaits her." She turns her gaze to the faux jester, her tone severe, if not unkind. "But first, penance. You may leave her here, Sister." She says this last to Tolenn while continuing to look at the elf. Jolistina's grin withers under the look, replaced with nervousness and shuffling feet.
"Surely, Sister." Paulus comes over to Mercy and the Crusader, grasping his other arm to help tug him to his feet. In a gentle, almost kindly voice he adds, "Perhaps you were just swayed by the wrong crowd in this chaotic time. Cooperate and redeem yourself." He gives the man a small push to get him moving.
Coramus snaps out of his reverie. If there was one thing he didn't like about being old, it was that occasionally he drifted off for minutes at a time. The other thing was that it seemed he could never get all of his piss out when urinating. It seemed he was going every hour. He tried all the tricks: Arching his back, placing hands on hips, pushing until his spleen hurt. He could have set a clock by it, still. The wizard notes the wintry vortex with trepidation. Such magic was surely powerful, more powerful than his and likely any of theirs. Still, he steeled himself, finding the reserves of courage that had kept him alive these past decades as he approached with the others. He laid a hand on Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight's shoulder. "Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight, if I don't make it through this, make sure to bury me somewhere warm. Where would you like to be buried? Oh, yes, I should probably have a more optimistic attitude. Get ready to smash things, mighty goblin warrior!" He smacks the goblin's arm hard, grinning.
Update to come tomorrow sometime.
Jolistina is all smiles, and practically skips on the way to the temple of Sarenrae. She glances adoringly Wednesday's way a few times, but otherwise just hums and has a generally sunny disposition. Mister Carowyn remains silent, shambling along like a vessel without a pilot. At Terri's question he responds in an emotionless voice, "Me and the Misses saw it on a late night trip to the temple of Calistria, and she just had to have it. Said those two young women turned her juices to flowing." He either doesn't recognize Terri from the portrait, or ignores the fact.
HIIIIISSSSSSSSS!!!!
Sounds like someone had resource management issues. Or wasn't South Korean.
After a couple of hours walking south along the coastal road that leads ultimately to Magnimar, the group sees a decaying manor house in the distance, an access road leading off of the main road to connect the home to civilization. When it was first built, it must have been a beautiful home, with three stories, large grounds, a servant's home, and a breathtaking view of the cliffs behind that lead down to the Gulf. Based on directions given to you and your own not-insignificant knowledge, you know that this is the former Foxglove Manor, now more commonly known as the Misgivings for the tragic events that took place here. The place looms in the distance in the midmorning sunlight.
Do you think you guys could...ya know...kill this vampire? I'm just a mindless zombie and all, but even I know it's been quite some time. :p
Her cries come once again, not shy in the least as the man mangles her neck. She looks over at Amira, grinning when she isn't grimacing as a particular sharp pain. "Your friend over here should join in, milady Wednesday. I have the feeling she would be quite good at it." She turns back to Wednesday. "Nope, just me. I like to be an enigma! Go zig when you expect a zag, you know. Maybe we should get a room. We could kick Mrs. Carowyn out of the master suite." The woman laughs again, seeming quite pleased with herself. Sense Motive DC 27: When Wednesday mentions the necromancer and that the group had previously encountered one, Jolistina's eyes widened very slightly. You aren't super sure, but you believe she actually seemed fearful for the first time since you met her in this madhouse.
The woman chuckles, "I feel blessed, milord Wednesday, but perhaps she would enjoy it if she would just try. So many people miss out on things because they 'think' they wouldn't enjoy them." She laughs, turning her blue eyes to the ranger. "I might be mad, but I am no fool, whatever I might wear. Don't patronize me...I am a means to an end, no more." This is said mildly, without reproach. Then he bites down on her shoulder, and her mouth opens wide as she screams. "YES!" Her face is red, her breath coming in gasping shudders, "Oh, what? I made them. Yep...my own very special playmates, they are. Or were, until you came and messed with things."
She cries out, a mixture of pain and pleasure as he latches onto her flesh, pinching it between his teeth. "Well, I was told to look out for any healthy Varisians. And he seemed like a healthy enough Varisian, to me." She pants out her answers, writhing in his lap as Wednesday continues to inflame her wounds.
The woman giggles, her breathing becoming quite rapid as she looks at Tolenn and Amira. "He seems hungry. Do you feed him?" Her wide blue eyes settle on the two women as Wednesday assaults her flesh, sounds of pleasure issuing from her lips. "I can't tell you that, I'm afraid, milord Wednesday. Such was the price of my fun here. Don't worry though, he's in good hands!" She laughs wickedly.
Carowyn looks up at Terri, still terrified. "Why is he talking to that crazy b#@&!?" He starts to draw away from the priestess, retreating further into his cellar as he surveys the spectacle unfolding. Jolistina arches a fine blonde brow as Wednesday slides a hand under her shirt, cooing as he rubs his hand roughly over her various wounds. She turns her blue eyes to Terri. "Stop? Why stop? Pain is pleasure." She woman grins, answering in a sing-song voice, eyes closed for the moment. "Oh yes...he was a pretty one, that one. I don't know where he is. Not here!" Her last two words are spurted out with a big chuckle, as if it is quite funny.
The women starts to comment, then bites down on her lower lip, blood dripping out both sides of her mouth as she purrs at Wednesday's treatment. "Thank you. I try to bathe regularly should I run into a willing mouth." She laughs, then shakes her head, blonde mane waving wildly. "I'm having a fair enough time, milord Wednesday. Though if you let me go I'm sure I'd be having a better time." She smiles knowingly, not crazy enough to believe THAT was going to happen. "I'm afraid I'll just have to remain a mystery to you, milord Wednesday. Although I know many men think highly of such things."
The silly motley hat falls to the floor, revealing shoulder-length ash blond hair that would probably be quite luxurious if it was groomed regularly. The woman gasps, sucking in breath sharply as Wednesday bites her, grinning at Tolenn as her head is tugged to the side by her hair. "I came here to have a good time, milord Wednesday." Her blue eyes dance, the woman clearly having a good time, though her tone is mocking, all the same.
The elf slips her lips around Wednesday's finger, sucking on it for a bit while continuing to lick before turning her attention to Tolenn. She releases the captive finger, giggling. "Really, do you think so? I was really aiming for a 'Wow!' kind of feel to it." She giggles once again. "Ohhhh...it wasn't commissioned by anybody...just a bit of artistic license I took." At that point she snaps her eyes to Wednesday, trying to bite his finger, a playful smile on her lips.
The game is ultimately as good as the efforts of the players AND GM. Thank you, as well! :)
The companions look around at the bodies littering the floor, having to pull masks off some of the decaying corpses to try to identify them. None of the dead people seems to have been Varisian, and a search of the alcove to the east turns up no ocarina amongst the dead musicians lying beside their chairs, instruments still in most of their hands. Looking about the chamber, the walls are covered in finely framed art works. This would only be expected in the home of rich, pompous nobles, except that one piece in particular stands out. In the center of the picture is a simple wooden stool with four legs. Perched upon the stool are two familiar figures. The first sits on the stool itself, legs closed tightly together, feet flat upon the ground. Pixie-cut blonde hair does little to hide her comely features that recently were spared an executioner's axe, eyes closed as she tilts her head up slightly, lips parted as if to receive a kiss. The second figure, slightly smaller than the first, sits in the lap of the first, facing the blonde woman, legs spread to accommodate the others' legs. Her feet are also flat upon the ground, the tone in her right thigh shown as she obviously has to keep a bit of balance to ensure the two don't tumble to the floor. Her right arm wraps around the other woman, her left hand entwined in the blonde hair of the first. Bronze hair frames a very familiar face, pretty green eyes open and looking down at the blonde, an impish smile on her face. Both figures do not have on a bit of clothing, the painting showing a side view of both, and only well-placed arms and hands keep the picture mildly inappropriate, as opposed to pornographic in nature. The picture itself is labeled Desire.
Phil Tucker: Callista closes her eyes as a gentle breeze carries through the open window, the faint scent of brine wafting in as the dust motes do their unending dance in the light streaming in from the window. She breathes in the ocean air, thankful for a small respite, before long, thin fingers with red-lacquered nails clasp the bridge of her nose as she opens her pale green eyes to look at the trade offer from Master Yonce. The businesswoman sighs, rereading over the details, determined to miss nothing. She much preferred the actual face-to-face dealings one had with one's business partners and rivals, but interlaced through it all was a mound of paperwork that truthfully bored Callista to tears. Such was the price of her profession, though. At least one of her professions. When the knock hammers out three sharp staccato notes on her door she says a short prayer to the Savored Sting for granting a break from her work. She rises, smoothing out the wrinkles in her rich, yellow dress, adjusting the corset with a bit of a fuss before striding over to the door. She gets her business smile ready, wide and with her perfect teeth presented as she slowly opens the door, quickly moving her eyes up or down to meet the eyes of the person at the door. "How can I..." She is cut off as the impeccably-dressed woman snaps the scroll into the priestess's hand not attending the door. Callista eyes the scroll, fine dark eyebrows furrowing, then turns her attention back to the messenger, who is already departing. Holding off her curiosity long enough to admire the woman's movements and figure, she then closes the door, walking to the open window before unrolling the scroll. Her pale eyes flit over the scroll three times, looking for any sign that the scroll might be intended for another, even though her name is clearly upon it. Satisfied that it is indeed genuine, the woman grins secretly, sharing it only with the heavens as she glows in satisfaction. Her work with the Masters Arovak and Fommen must have pleased the high priest, surely, to have received this. "Thank you truly, Goddess! I am ever your humble servant!" Callista takes the time to groom herself, styling her long, brown ringlets into a pile on top of her head, leaving a single, curly lock to hang down next to her face. A bit of makeup to highlight her eyes and add a bit more glow to her cheeks, and she was ready. Locking the doors behind her, knowing that her employees all possess keys to enter the establishment, she exits the building, making her way slowly through the streets to the Hall of Reliquaries.
"Yes, yes, go have a looksie, that's a good goblin. Now where's that garlic? Garlic always makes everything better..." The wizard bumbles around in the kitchen, only paying half attention to what is going on around him. It's been so long since he's had a decent meal, he is focused and intent on making sure it's a good one. He stands by Ten Penny through most of it, peering over her shoulder, "I think that needs a bit more stirring. Say, do you think we should bank the fire a bit? I don't want things in there to get seared, ya know. Let it simmer a bit more, I think, soften up the veggies and infuse the meat with the flavor. You can't rush a good thing, missie, no sirree! Just ask Ice Melts Quietly in Sunlight what happens when you rush through things without thinking. When I found him he was bleeding out of his ass, the skin cracked and red, half charred from when he had swallowed liquid fire." The wizard shakes his head, rheumy eyes settled on the cook, hoping she has learned her lesson.
I have to say...this isn't quite what I had in mind when I let De Wensu cut on me, Victor. I'm very displeased.
Into the woods I have to go!
A vampire brought me to his dark tower,
The way is clear!
Into the woods I hope I go!
Into the Woods!
Alrighty...posted the round recap on Monday night...still waiting on three of you. I'll be botting you this evening, if you haven't posted by then.
"Fascinating. Who would do such a thing?" Her pose is pensive, finger tapping her chin. "You never were very good at math, either. Assuming your companions are more than glorified bodyguards, that is 29 gold each, if you are to split it. Of course, you having less gold to spend is likely in the best interest of Korvosa..."
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