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![]() When Justahl tosses the helmet to Nasmarra, it clangs to the ground. It seems that she is no longer present. The silent illusion of the woman stands in her place, unmoving and non-reactive. Her form is an illusion, a fact made clear by her left foot passing through the helm. Back in the room with the Metallum, Nasmarra looks at the living metal creature with a cold, dispassionate eye. "The others say that we should spare you," she says to it aloud. She could communicate with it through telepathy, but she chooses not to. "I disagree. Your kind is rapacious and ravenous. You have infected our world for hundreds of years. Attempts to convince you to leave our world alone have failed. The only thing that has had any success is fighting back. That's what I'm doing right now." She bends down to pick up the piece of Metallum that the Mothermind offered as peace. She lifts up, laboring under the weight, and considers how best to end the threat of the Mothermind. ![]()
![]() "You are a fool," Nasmarra hisses at Jorzan. She steps between him and the cage of the hive mind, preventing him from trying to tip it over. "You think this thing knows anything of honor or of keeping its word? It begs for its life out of desperation. Its mind is so alien that it cannot comprehend peace. Its hunger has consumed entire worlds, rendered barren entire planes of existence. Hunger cannot be reasoned with, or intimidated, or kept at bay with sweet words and pale hopes. The Metallum must die, or it will inevitably leave this world a husk with nothing left. If you free this one, it can and will multiply. Its heralds will delve deeply into the crust of the world, looking for minerals to consume, as soon as it is free. Your soft hearts will doom us all. Drive its 'offering' into the heart-bulb at its core, and be done with it." Her voice gets even colder as she speaks. "This is the only choice that does not risk ruin to this world. Change your mind willingly." She leaves the threat unspoken that she has her own ways of changing the minds of others. ![]()
![]() Knowledge: History (re: Mothermind) 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (20) + 19 = 39 Nasmarra's voice is colder than the ice that threatens to envelop the room they are in. "Kill it. The Metallum Aeternum is as much of a danger to this world as anything else that threatens it. It feeds on worlds, consuming everything and leaving empty husks behind. The gods themselves have banded together to try to slow the march across the planes of the Metallum and drive them from the Land. The danger of its existence aside, the dead flesh of once-living metal is incredibly useful. We must kill it, for the good of our entire world." Hopefully that amazing knowledge check will give her some insight as to how to kill it. Do we have a weapon capable of that? ![]()
![]() Nasmarra sees the shadowy double of Jorzan come through the wall, beckoning towards her and Kelne. "Take the vanaran. He will be unable to walk on his own. I have done all I can for him at this juncture." She walks out, barely giving a backwards glance to them both. Knowledge: Religion 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (17) + 19 = 36
Nasmarra glides into the second room, strangely calm amid the chaos of Cassandra's muttering. "Tell me what is going on." The others comply quickly, giving Nasmarra a quick rundown of the Ice Lich and the Eye in the Ice. ![]()
![]() Round 2, Initiative 7, Right Room
FA: Complete deep slumber vs. Bullete
Nasmarra gathers together a flood of magic and presses it deep into the massive beast's simple mind. Its meager defenses crumble immediately, overwhelmed by the sheer scope of Nasmarra's mind. Busy focusing on Kelne, the bullete is unprepared for its will to be crushed so thoroughly, and it sways for a moment before collapsing on the ground in front of the warrior. Nasmarra walks by with a dismissive wave and says, "I trust that you can dispatch it with ease." She walks to the monkey-like man laying on the ground like a discarded toy and presses her pale hand onto his chest. His wounds stitch themselves together as she heals him with the power of the divine. ![]()
![]() Round 1, Initiative 7, Right Room
FRA: Cast deep slumber vs. Bulette Nasmarra holds out her hand and points to the the bulette, matched by each of her doubles. She pulls mana from the ether and starts weaving together a spell. It will take a bit of time to gather, but it will crest like a wave over the creature's consciousness. It may have enough time to charge at either her or Kelne, but she will be capable of peeling away its tiny mind soon thereafter. Deep slumber has a one-round casting time. As it seems to be a garden-variety bulette, it should be within the 10 HD limit. It's too bad it isn't a standard action, because I had the bulette rolling a 15 on its Will save. ![]()
![]() Initiative 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7 Knowledge: Arcana 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (12) + 19 = 31 Nasmarra follows Kelne through the door, discontent with the lack of guidance from her augury. She and her several illusory doubles walk in slowly, trying to determine any details she can about the room other than the massive beast that fills the center of the room. She slowly runs her eyes over its hide, thick as armor, and its powerful maw. She studied the beasts back in Stormfare - even dissecting one, late one night with a mind-addled graduate student. "Careful with its teeth, Kelne." Even as she gives him the warning, she does not seem remarkably quick to engage it. As a reminder, Nasmarra will always use an immediate action (if available) to use her Adoration special ability, which requires any attacker to make a DC 16 Will save or lose the attack. ![]()
![]() Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
SA: Mirror Image 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6 Nasmarra mutters to the others, "A moment, please, to consider our options." She gathers her magic and pulls together an illusion out of her form. Six identical images of herself shimmer into existence in close proximity to one another. It is nearly impossible after a moment to tell which is illusion and what is reality. "A moment more," she mutters. She perks her ears as she listens to the muffled words behind the left door of the men playing at cards. SA: Cast Augury She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small stick of incense. She cracks it open and smells it, then pours the herbs onto the ground. Each of her illusory doubles follows suit. She pulls out a set of carved bone, rolling them in her hands for a moment before throwing them to the ground. She peers at them, her eyes turning white as she divines the future. Her voice turns into a dark whisper, like a howl of wind caught in a blizzard. "Weal or woe, weal or woe, weal or woe? Does entry into the center door deliver us weal or woe?" She continues this strange litany for a minute while the others watch the odd ritual. She has a 78% chance to receive a meaningful reply. ![]()
![]() Nasmarra waves off the geon elemental in its native tongue, dragging the syllables like she is grinding her teeth. "Grraaaaghhhh shhhhhraaaaagghhhahh kkrressshhhhh ugh hannnnnnngh." With the final word, she turns and walks proudly behind Justahl and the others. Terran: "She may, or she may not. Time will tell. Worry not. We move now." ![]()
![]() Perception 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17 Nasmarra hears the scraping noise of the geons' movement. If not for her knowledge of their kind, she likely would not have understood its significance. They had granted them access to the cave, but they could just as easily revoke it if they feel slighted or misled. She speaks far more loudly than usual, intending to have her voice echo back to them. "Sepsiz is our guide, and he tells us the truth regarding our destination. I have no doubt that the horse is in that direction - the girl does not contradict this, but rather says that the center is where we must go. I say we follow our guide after we determine what her vision means." She is more prone to following Cassandra, but she offers the leaf to mollify the elementals and not contradict her tenuous agreement with them. ![]()
![]() Nasmarra responds in Terran, a language that evokes the sound of rocks smashing against each other repeatedly. "Kra-tschpa, chhaahhhgh, rummmmchhh. Besshhhkkh gaaar?" She gestures towards Sepsiz as she speaks, drawing their attention to the demon. Terran: "We are not visitors, as evidenced by this one. May we pass?" ![]()
![]() Knowledge: Planes 1d20 + 19 - 2 ⇒ (18) + 19 - 2 = 35 "Delightful. Geons. Gird yourself, as these are no mere earth elementals. But they will not attack unless we threaten whatever task they have been given." She snaps at the living boulders in Terran. "Ugrhhhhh! Hanghhhh! Graaaanggg-jaakkk?" Terran:
"What are your commands, children of stone?" Do they follow this stat block? ![]()
![]() Fortitude 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9 Even with her magical protection from the cold, the blizzard-like conditions make Nasmarra quite uncomfortable. The swirling snow is nearly impossible to see through. After trudging through the snow for the last few hours - her only other option being to drain her magic completely to maintain the power of flight - Nasmarra looks forward to the opportunity to do something else. "Of course the demon seems truthful," her voice rings out to Justahl. "Its mind is still within my grasp." Her voice seems cold enough to pierce through any magical protection against ice or freezing temperatures. ![]()
![]() Nasmarra seems a living nightmare, even for the creature of such demonic and horrific origins. "Why do you need your innards and entrails? You seem to survive without them. And how, Walker of Boundaries, would we arrive 'down there'?" Her voice dryly recites the location of the horse as Sepsiz says it. ![]()
![]() Sense Motive 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (20) + 12 = 32 SA: Cast suggestion vs. Schir Demon
Nasmarra spots the creature's evasion immediately, seeing that it has some agenda. She summons mana from the ether and works her will upon it until she presses it forward into the demon's mind. For a moment, she feels a wall of pure spite and malice as she penetrates its consciousness - and then she is through it, digging deep into its mind. "Answer any questions that we have, with neither lies or omissions to cloud the full truth," she commands in a tone that makes the snow seem warm in comparison. In her mind's eye, she sees the spite demon's consciousness fighting her own, with its resistance growing weaker and weaker like a drowning man's feeble attempts to save himself in his last moments. Within moments, the demon's mind is calm, orderly, and utterly in thrall to her will. ![]()
![]() "▄¥─§, ¶└♂╚┤≡ -╫£☼í☼⊂ ӜѨ•ѮØÞѮ∇ ∉⊗ϖ∈∇ ∅∀ ∩ΓΞÐ∅ þ§╧╥o♣ │▌▄¥. ☼⊂ ӜѨ•Ѯ ∀ ∩ £☼í☼ ØÞѮ∇ ∉I§§§☼." Nasmarra eyes the malnourished demon, well-aware of its terrible and spiteful nature. "This is a schir demon," she says to the others, "commonly known as a spite demon. The name is well-deserved for most of its kind. It says its name is Sepsiz." She remains floating, waiting for its response so that she can gauge what usefulness it might have. Abyssal: "Speak in the Common tongue, Sepsiz, so that my companions can understand you as I do. Tell us why you were imprisoned." ![]()
![]() Knowledge: Local 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12 Nasmarra faintly recalls some facts about Vanarans, thinking it an odd sight to see one in such a cold place. The ape-like man's choice to speak to the dwarf does not surprise her, though his cool attitude towards a traditional racial ally is curious to her. She pays it little mind, as he seems to be no danger to them - and the rest of the group has the questioning well in hand. The demon, on the other hand, is another thing entirely. Only Kelne seems to pay much attention to it. "The creature is speaking Abyssal, the language of the endless Pit from which it was spat out upon our land. However, if Cassandra insists that its presence is important to us, I have no reason to doubt her." Knowledge: Planes 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (11) + 19 = 30 She focuses her attention on the demon, spitting out words in Abyssal. It is a dark language, full of spite and anger and hate. Nasmarra does not enjoy its use. "§╧╥o♣ │▌▄¥─§, ¶└♂╚┤≡ -╫£☼í☼§? ó┴Ñ#▼£╩Ö♠." As she speaks, she turns her analytical mind and vast stores of knowledge, accrued over lifetimes, towards identifying the pathetic-looking creature. Abyssal: "What are you called, and from where do you come? You are in the Land, in the north." ![]()
![]() Knowledge: Nobilty 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25
Nasmarra alerts to the Telestari name. The smuggler is of no concern to her, but the appearance of a Telestari excites the scholar within her. She files the information about the possibility of a member of the long-dead race away in her mind, to be drawn out when useful - though she mentally notes to include it in her journal upon her return to Stormfare. Detect Magic
Nasmarra picks up the staff and opens her eyes to its mana - only to find that its secrets are hidden to her in the shadows of the staff. She frowns, struggling to recall the last time she was stymied by identifying a magical item. She lets out a small noise of annoyance, barely audible to anyone around. ![]()
![]() "A moment, if you will." Nasmarra's eerie voice gives them all pause. The snow elves look at the hovering, ghostly figure with some trepidation. She floats to the last remaining mercenary before Hurin has the opportunity to finish his knots. She leans in close to the terrified man, who seems more frightened of her than of the prospect of being beaten or stabbed to death. She whispers something in his ear that only he can hear. SA: charm person (DC 19) vs. Mercenary
SA: Spontaneous cure moderate wounds on Mercenary (castigate sacrificed)
His face grows slack and calm as she speaks, looking less fearful by the moment. She completes her whisper and looks him in the eye, then presses her hand against his chest. His wounds begin to heal, stopping the steady flow of blood into the white snow. "Now, we have some questions for you." He looks at the group, willing to assist them now out of something more insidious than fear. The mind witch has taken him. "Yes, of course. What do you want to know?" Nasmarra asks the first question, though it is clear that the man will answer truthfully. "Tell me, who are you transporting? Where were you going?" ![]()
![]() Silently, Nasmarra floats to the snow, though she does not allow her feet to touch it. She remains silent, maintaining the illusion of ghostly grandeur. She does not speak, considering her position an advisory one and leaving it to Kelne or one of the others to engage with the elves. Respectfully, she lowers her head when the elves do in solidarity with their struggle. ![]()
![]() Round 7, Initiative 17
SA: Use Pearl of Power (1st) to recover extended murderous command Floating silently, the ghostly figure tearing into the minds of the mercenaries and the soldiers of the Red Dragonflight abates with the mental assaults. She remains a good twenty feet above the melee, far beyond the reach of the blades of her enemies. Her pale, ghostly eyes scan the battlefield - which seems to have tilted nearly completely their way. Rather than expend more of her magic to enthrall an enemy already defeated - even if they have not admitted it yet - she gathers the mana stored within one of the pearls embedded in the amulet passed to her by her previous incarnations. She feels the rush of the spell swirling again in her own mind, ready to seep into the mind of another enemy. ![]()
![]() Round 6, Initiative 17
MA: Fly to V7
Nasmarra flies quickly to the mercenary standing above the snow elf with a sword as he prepares to deal the final blow to the elf behind the fir tree. The mercenary looks up to see her floating in the sky, yet flying towards him with a faint and terrible moan at the same time. As he feels the icy grip - far, far colder than the snow - of the phantasm figure of Nasmarra, he begins to feel the terror seize him fully. He feels the joy, the life, even the will to survive torn from him. There is little left of him in those moments, just a hollow shell struggling to move as Nasmarra carves out his very humanity from him. His sword stands still while his very identity is torn away. ![]()
![]() Round 5, Initiative 17
MA: Fly to Z11
Whispers invade the mind of the mercenary closest to Kelne. No longer does he intend to come for the Forgelander. The whispers call him to protect his wounded and dead allies, for these attackers are too strong. He is the only hope for survival for his friend, and it will be through treating the greivous injuries rather than by killing his enemy. Above the melee, Nasmarra hovers. She watches like a puppetmaster, keeping her allies safe by tearing through the mental defenses of their foes. It is easier for her to nudge them, making it seem reasonable, than to outright destroy their wills. ![]()
![]() Round 4, Initiative 17
MA: Fly 50' to W13
The ghostly figure above the fray hovers briefly, watching the mind-addled puppet run back away from Gray and Cassandra into the battle. She sails back towards the fighting at a brisk pace, surveying what she sees. The nearest of the Red Dragonflight's soldiers is fighting hard against one of the elves, while another fights a guard a few feet away. She reaches out into his mind, probing it and finding him to be extremely focused on killing his enemy. She pulls the magic away before she wastes it beseiging his mental defenses, knowing that she can return to him later at a moment of graeter distraction, and seeps into the mind of the one fighting the mercenary. Quickly, she strips away his defenses and makes the one fighting Kelne his greatest enemy. His mind, at least for a moment, wants nothing more than to thrust his blade into his ally and friend. ![]()
![]() Round 3, Initiative 17
MA: Move 60' to AE18
Nasmarra closes the gap between herself and the Red Dragonflight soldier. She reaches out with a more subtle mental persuasion, not tearing roughly into his mind as in her first try. Tired and weakened by his initial resistance to her, he offers only a token fight against the assault. His mental barriers crumble quickly as she sends the tendrils of her will through gaps as large as the creatures pulling the wagons through the snow. She feels her control growing - a subtle control, but control nonetheless. She whispers with her mind, 'I will take care of that. You are needed in the fight. Kill the wagon guards and await your orders.' ![]()
![]() Round 2, Initiative 17
MA: Move 60' to R18
Nasmarra floats forward through the cloud of darkness, emerging from the other side. Not only is she significantly faster through the air than those trudging through the snow, her magic lends far more speed than even a man running at full speed. The Red Dragonflight warrior darts across the ground, heading towards their greatest treasure. She reaches out with her mind, pointing a ghostly finger at the soldier. Her actions are not subtle; there is no whisper touching the back of his mind. She simply seizes control of his mind and body in their entirety, causing him to stiffen up and nearly fall to the ground. She tears at his mind savagely, but he continues running forward. She rends a memory from his mind - a quiet, happy moment with a woman that he loved - that he sacrifices to gain enough strength to fight off her magic. Nasmarra frowns and redoubles her efforts to force her will upon him. Remember that the Red Dragonflight soldier (J7) is still affected by murderous command. ![]()
![]() Round 1, Initiative 17
MA: Fly to J10
Nasmarra floats to the next treetop, barely gaining any notice up in the canopy. She reaches out and points at one of the Red Dragonflight's soldiers, currently battling one of the mercenaries near the last wagon of the caravan. She reaches into his mind with her magic and seizes control of his body by poisoning his thoughts. Her terrible whispering voice echoes through his mind. 'Kill your ally. He is a traitor. Kill him!' The duration is doubled to 2 rounds, so he will attack his nearest ally for each of the next two rounds. ![]()
![]() Surprise Round, Initiative 17
SA: Move (flight) to H13 Nasmarra floats silently above the fray, moving from the snow-capped canopy to the next tree. She makes no noise, simply appearing and floating above the conflict. She gazes upon them, choosing them and feeling the minds laid out before her. She sets her eyes on one of the Red Dragonflight soldiers as she floats a few feet from the top of the next tree. He begins to feel the touch of her whisper pressing against the back of his mind, clouding and fogging it. She has not seized control yet, and he likely doesn't notice the mental probing, but she has settled on making him her unwilling puppet. ![]()
![]() Iniatiative 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17 Nasmarra will begin at D16, flying at the treetops. Since she has twice as much time - not being hindered by difficult terrain while flying - she will cast blur. Nasmarra silently and eerily trails through the trees, phasing in and out of sight as she does so. Her feet drift aimlessly as she flies, giving her even more the appearance of a spectre. She collects the mana to shimmer and become more transluscent. She takes a moment to feel the hum of the minsd before her, deciding which of them she will seize control of first. If she has an immediate action available, she will always use Adoration (DC 16 Will negates) against the first attack of any round to cause the attacker to automatically lose one attack against her. ![]()
![]() Cast fly, ghostly disguise Stealth (with Bit of Luck 7/8) 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3 or 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 1 = 14 Nasmarra stops as she hears the din of battle, then closes her eyes and mutters something. A pallor envelops her, making her transluscent and misty. The hem of her dress fades in and out of visibility, giving her an eerie, ghostly look. After a few moments, she is only partially visible - and what they can see is the appearance of a spectre. Her feet raise off the ground, first a few inches, then several feet. "I will see what is ahead," she intones in her usual clear whisper. She glides slowly and silently up the ridge until she clears it to see what is on the other side. She slows near the top, taking a moment to bend the strands of fate towards her own aims. ![]()
![]() Nasmarra sits in prayer and meditation, quietly clearing her mind for the tasks at hand. While many clerics of the various gods of the Land spend an hour (and only that amount) in supplication as the price of power from their deities, Nasmarra is awake long before the dawn to meditate. Scenes from her life's previous regenerations flash through her mind, giving guidance and insight. Nasmarra knows that all of this has happened in the past, and that all of this will happen in the future, just as all of this happens in the present. She does not pray to a god per se in meditation, though she does draw her power from beseeching Shelyn. She does not, however, consider herself an acolyte or cleric of the Eternal Rose - simply a follower in a symbiosis with the goddess. While she does appreciate love and beauty, she looks at them with a longer-term view. There is beauty to appreciate in the snow of the early morning. The white cover of snowfall, even though it is bitingly cold, is hauntingly beautiful. With her dark hair and pale blue skin, she herself adds to the silent, still beauty of the place. She sits silently, lost in her thoughts, for hours long before any other person awakens in the camp. Nasmarra's cleric domains are Fate and Love. Only Shelyn has both domains. It is this point in the morning that Astar walks by without seeing her still form sitting in the snow as he stretches his body and mind to prepare for the day. Without opening her eyes, she speaks to him. "There is a beauty in knowledge and in truths, one that transcends the very concept of time and does not fade or grow as time passes. The magic that permeates the world follow a set of rules that govern everything, from the cold air we breath into our lungs to the bound mana in my amulet or your sword. I receive the divine magic from the goddess Shelyn and appreciate the passing beauty of a falling leaf or a youthful couple, but this beauty lasts for a mere moment. The beauty of creation and truth is greater than that. There is no greater beauty than truth, Astar Dijtstra." She goes silent, having never opened her eyes as she spoke to Astar.
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