Melanie Foxglove's page

Elspeth's tentacles catch one of Melanie's arms, the same arm that cast the spell that blinded her master, leaving him vulnerable and defenseless against the fireball that took his life. The sorceress shrieks, tries to wrench her arm away, but she can't break the grip of the tentacles' suction.

In the end, it remains unclear to Dex what exactly occurred, and he wouldn't be able to explain it. But his ally appeared to suddenly become light-headed. She looks at Elspeth with confusion. "I...you...wha...?" she starts to say, but isn't able to finish the thought and trails away. She sweeps her free hand up to her forehead in a dramatic, fainting gesture, swoons for a moment, and collapses to the floor.

Melanie is dead!

Melanie sees Elspeth slither across the room and braces herself. Melanie takes 4 strength damage.

"Too bad I didn't have that 'rip your eyes out' spell finished yet to use on you all!" she snarls. She smiles wickedly. "But perhaps that works to my advantage."

Dex looks away. Lady Foxglove concentrates, reaches out with splayed fingers, and casts pyrotechnics. The hearth explodes in a burst of fireworks! They pop like firecrackers, sending flashing, fiery, colored aerial lights whizzing out in every direction. She squints, resisting the effects of the magical light.

Sandru, Blackacre, Caromarc, Ianez, and Elspeth each make a Will save.

Melanie sees Caromarc unconscious on the floor and also La Siréene's remains. "Spellcasters are down," she reports.

"No, but that sounds most interesting." Melanie replies. She looks flushed, and waves a hand to her face. "Please excuse me a moment. I need the toilette." She strides boldly out of the room.

Lady Foxglove seems truly thrown by this comment. What is it you see in her eyes...admiration and respect as a possible equal?

"Excuse me, Caromarc, if I may?" She replies to Sandru. "Your question implies the zombies are negative or undesirable, which isn't necessarily so. At the moment, they're giving us trouble, but imagine...if we can discover where they are coming from and how to control them, what a powerful weapon it would potentially be...for the Salon, of course, wielded in the right hands."

"I realize most people would disagree with letting the zombie attacks continue. They might think such things are evil. But they don't have the vision that we do at the Salon. They don't understand power; you don't resist, you must tap into it for your own use."

"Volst was not able to cause all of this," she adds. "He got above his station is all, and wanted too much too quickly. But let him survive the zombie attack. If he does, it will be his initiation. It will definitely show his mettle."

Melanie rests her arm on the bar and looks towards the wall to the night. She falls into thought, as if strategizing how to proceed against the invasion. She doesn't mean to, but she wears her doubts plain on her face.

"You misunderstand. My motives are rational, not emotional." She picks up a toothpick, skewers an olive, and pops it in her mouth. "It's just that he stands in my way is all."

"I do appreciate, La Siréene, that you can relate. Who knows? Maybe Paige will end up learning a thing or two from her friends." This last part said rolling her eyes at the Paige in question.

Even Ludo himself looks impressed at La Siréene's characteristic detachment.

"Right before you showed up, I was discussing with Ludo how, of course, I want to murder him and take over as head sorcerer of the Salon." Ludo nods enthusiastically that in fact this was so. "But I'm waiting until I perfect a spell where I can remove and keep only his eyes alive, so I can force him to be a captive audience to his own death."

"...the wretch! That pathetic little weasel! He thought he was going to stay out here in the party with us! A new initiate...can you imagine?"

"Blech!" Melanie exclaims with disgust, and flicks an imaginary Volst away with her fingers. "We picked him up by his little rat tail and threw him in the room with the zombies."

All of the sorcerers share an evil laugh.

"But good ol' Ludo here," Melanie points at him, "wrapped the back part of the house in a big arcane bubble. Nothing gets in, and nothing gets out. Well, except the occasional flesh-eating, drooling undead. I don't know why that's happening. There are strange arcane anomalies. Under normal circumstances, Ludo's spell would be foolproof. But tonight not so."

"Dreadful," Melanie says, finishing another pour and handing a drink to Quinn.

"We've been having a rather odd evening ourselves."

"Oh, Paige, you drunken idiot." Melanie sighs. She turns to the bar and jostles a martini shaker. The gentle crunch of the ice makes a pleasant sound. "Here we go again. It's not the first time you've picked strangers up at a bar and invited them over to a party."

She looks at your group, serious without irony. "No offense."

She removes the lid to the shaker...the cylinder is metal, wet with condensation...lifts it high, and gives a generous pour into a martini glass. She tosses an olive into it and hands it to La Siréene.

"La Siréene, pleased to make your acquaintance as well," Melanie says. She waves to a couple of servers who weave through the room with trays of hors d'oeuvres. "You and your friends are our guests. Relax, and please enjoy the reception."