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No they are not. You sure you don't want to hold on to the Grand Diplomat title a little longer, Vallen? =)

Little bug?! All thoughts of diplomacy and decorum flee the gathlain's mind when the lizard-king levels his insult at her. A more experienced queen would have been able to keep her composure, to smile sweetly as she repaid such an insult in kind. But Ilystria is far too young and far too impetuous to keep her temper in check. The fey's serene features morph into a mask of pint-sized rage, her colorless eyes narrowing to a glare and spots of crimson blooming across her high cheekbones. A wild little growl escapes her throat and her leafy wings beat a furious tattoo as the fey queen brings herself up high enough to look down on the overgrown king.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 3 + 2 = 20 Minus whatever modifiers for the lizard-king being a dozen size categories larger than her...

"Well... umm... you see..." Ilystria hems and haws over what Cassandra asks her to translate. The fey queen may be a tenderfoot when it comes to the art of diplomacy, but she's an old hand at making friends. And it would be far more difficult to make a friend of an enemy than to make a friend of someone she hadn't threatened with death and the destruction of their home and tribe. ...And the lizard-king is so much bigger than her. "Perhaps we can a more courteous approach first?" The diminutive gathlain perks up as a sudden thought occurs to her. "I could try to barter the boy's freedom for something in my treasure chest! Where did Kruunupää go off to?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (5) + 13 = 18

Ilystria's long, tapered ears droop in disappointment when the lizard-king refuses, what was in her mind, a perfectly reasonable request. She looks down at the group when Vallen begins making his vociferous objections. As a creature who came into being in a way unlike that of most mortals—through rutting, as the lizard-king might put it—she sadly doesn't have an answer to the dwarven priest's questions, rhetorical though they are. As she's waiting for someone else to come up with those answers, Vallen goes on to tell her what she's long since suspected is true. "I may not know what an ancestor spirit is, but I know that will-o'-wisp is not what it claims to be," Ilystria replies, but when Vallen brings up 'offspring', the fey begins to get a clearer idea of the nature of the relationship between the tribe and the supposed ancestor. "The problem is trying to convince them of that without insulting them."

Taking Vallen's words into consideration (although maybe not his exact words, for those would surely offend the dragon-folk-king), Ilystria turns back to the other monarch and offers a placating smile.

Ilystria shakes her head in earnest denial at the lizard-king's words.

The delicate features of Ilystria's face are drawn into a sympathetic frown as the lizard-king shares his tribe's tale. The fey queen nods solemnly when he talks about the mortal's proclivity for destroying the land around them in the name of advancement. She also notes, however, that he pointedly avoids answering her question about the human. Had she not seen him with her own eyes, she might have taken his non-answer as an answer in the negative, apologized for the interruption and gone on her merry way. So it was lucky for the boy that she had disappeared to snoop around first, she thinks, feeling no small amount of vindication at the idea. But Ilystria tries to smother that feeling for now. There would be plenty of time to celebrate her own cleverness after the boy was rescued.

The only indication that Ilystria hears what Vallen suggests is a minute shift of her head in his direction and a wiggle of one of her ears. She wants to warn the lizard-king about the will-o'-wisp, to tell him that they are notorious tricksters and that this likely has his entire tribe fooled. But levelling an accusation like that would likely only escalate the already tense situation into open hostilities. So instead she goes with what she thinks is a more innocuous line of questioning.

Aww, thanks so much you all! You don't know how happy that makes me to hear. =)

"Well I..." Looking up at the frustrated, stricken and just plain flabbergasted faces of her companions, it slowly starts to dawn on Ilystria that she may have, somehow, done something wrong. "I just..." The fey shrinks a little at the unfavorable reactions her attempt to help has elicited. "Everyone was running and shouting and talking about climbing over the wall and I got excited," she sheepishly confesses.

While happy to hear that they would indeed try to help the boy and eager to start—even if she doesn't understand their willingness to help him before they found Tig considering the latter was apparently the special one—Ilystria nearly forgets all about it when the exceptionally large lizardperson pokes their head over the gate. "Woah..." Her gaze flicks over to Cassandra as she answers, but she can't keep her eyes off the majesty of the looming lizardfolk for long. "They said, 'You are encroaching on our demesne. Away with you, or I will have my warriors smush you!'"

Knowing that none of the mortals speak Draconic and wanting to make up for her earlier misstep—whatever that could have been—Ilystria takes the initiative to begin diplomatic relations with overlarge lizardfolk. And so, she flies up to speak with them face-to-face, coming to hover above the palisade just before its great maw.

"Emeria..."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (16) + 13 = 29 Please don't eat me!

Ilystria shakes her head at Jenya's questioning. "Well, I can, yes, but they aren't speaking lizard, they're speaking Dragon. It's a great insult to liken anything related to Dragons or their kin to mere lizards. Poor Perlivash's feelings would be hurt if he heard you say that." She is about to translate the conversation between the two dragonfolk for the benefit of her companions when Vallen relays the gist of it, so instead she nods in agreement.

Going back to answering Jenya's questions, Ilystria says, "There's a human child tied to a post in the middle of their village. He was probably the one screaming. The dragon-people don't seem to be very interested in him, but there is a will-o'-wisp floating around him that is. I wonder if it could be the same will-o'-wisp I suggested you make nice with before it started playing tricks on your people..." Ilystria spends a moment pondering the chance of that before giving a shrug and moving to go back the way they came. "Do you think we might be able to come back and help the other boy after we find Tig-Tanner-Sen?"

Ilystria slowly reappears a few feet behind the group, grassy green eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the strange befuddlement that's overcome her allies. She's beginning to think she can't take her eyes off of them for a few moments without at least one of them taking leave of their senses. "Friends! Quit your capering! I saw no sign of Tig-Tanner-Sen in the dragon-folks' village," she informs them, looking back the way they came. "Should we go see the old woman again?"

Out of her depth but swept up in the excitement nonetheless, Ilystria suggests, "Maybe it can be opened from the inside!" before flying off toward the wooden gate.

Tish only just manages to suppress a violent full-body shudder at the fetchlings' offer of hospitality, thoughts of sliding between pox-infested sheets and eating food prepared by disease-carrying hands swimming unpleasantly through her head. It's enough to make her want to agree to do them this favor on the condition that they never put such horrifying images into her head by offering her room and board ever again. But rather than give a definitive answer either way, Tish probes for more information. "The Boroi Manor? We just came from there. Lady Boroi told us that her husband let the fetchling staff go due to the disease. What would your cousin still be doing there?"

Initiative: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

Born and raised in the Varisian countryside, Syeira didn't consider herself a particularly worldly woman, but passing by the room filled with chains, harnesses and leashes had raised an eyebrow or two. Had Saul been devoting part of the Gold Goblin to even seedier practices than gambling? But when the group rounds the corner and comes across what sounds like a menagerie, suddenly the very conventional explanation behind the equipment becomes clear. "Oh that's what those are for," she murmurs, feeling a bit silly that her mind would jump to a more salacious conclusion first. She'd have to blame Dougal for his bad influence later. In the meantime...

Ilystria quietly listens to the many different ideas floated around by her mortal allies about the whereabouts of their missing kin. "What is so special about this boy?" she asks during a brief lull in the discussions, unaware of how callous such a question might sound from one of her kind. Perhaps if she understood what made this particular 'human' so exceptional, she could better help narrow down who or what might have taken him.

Shit! I thought I replied to this days ago. Sorry Vladric!

Ilystria looks up (and up and up) to Vladric, her elfin features scrunched up in a frankly unflattering manner that suggests confusion and a touch of exasperation at being asked such a thing. In her limited experience with them, mortals seemed quick to think that fey like herself held the answers to every question. But she supposes they can't be faulted for such assumptions given how many of her kind went out of their way to cultivate such an air of puckish all-knowingness. Herself occasionally included.

Of course, it also never crosses the small fey's mind that the mortal might simply be asking in order to get her thinking about whether or not the course she is on is a particularly safe one.

With a soft sigh and a shake of her head, Ilystria answers, "I know not. Never have I travelled so far outside the bounds of my demesne. I would say that I doubt one of my kind resides here, but after the tower"—the queen pauses to shake her head once more—"I feel the actions of my kin are strange to me now." The admission seems to make Ilystria sulky, the gathlain breaking her stride to stop in the middle yard and gloomily stare off into the distance. Only moments later she seems to come back to herself, blinking her eerie eyes rapidly before refocusing on Vladric and favoring the human with a bright, if sharp smile. "But I know of only one way to learn whether or not we will be welcomed."

Laetitia answers Jix's call to action with a derisive scoff, choosing instead to start rifling through her satchel in search of something. It wasn't right or fair the way these fetchlings were being mobbed against, and Tish is more than capable of seeing the parallels between the situation before her and the incident back in Ilsurian with the Varisian boy in which she did intervene. But unlike in that instance, she wasn't being paid by the fetchling community and so felt no overwhelming urge to ignore her sense of self-preservation for the three unlucky targets. Who appointed Tish the champion for social equality anyway?

Saved from having to give some self-serving answer to Jix thanks to Median's initiative, Tish instead says, "No need. Median seems to have a handle on things. Let's just see how it plays out before we get involved. Now, where is... aha!" Tish finally manages to find what she had been searching for, pulling out a length of garish fabric that is the scarf Median had given her after the aforementioned "Varisian boy" instance and hastily wrapping it around the lower half of her face. Lady Boroi's talk of disease has the woman on edge, and if one thing about the situation is clear to Tish it's that, whatever the sickness is, Captain Grey definitely has it.

Senara cuts her eyes at Silas as he offers his assurances. "So says the man who never actually made it to Branderscar," she replies, a teasing quality to her usual smirk. "Though I agree with your point about completing this task as quickly as possible. Finding a pendant in a basement shouldn't take too long, after all." When Ella mentions that they were advised to prepare for traveling, Senara gives a defeated sigh. "I did prepare for travel." Reaching through the illusion of her noblewoman's finery, Senara adjusts a pouch fastened to the belt of her breeches and the sound of coins jiggling together echoes through the cellar. "More than enough to hire a coachman and rent a suite for a week or so. ...It seems my idea of travel differs from all of yours," the Lady says in a glum, almost self-deprecating manner. But she manages a brief smile in return for Ella's generosity. "Thank you."

Rather than deign to respond to Tiadora's stinging reproval, Senara draws herself up, letting her actions speak for her as she turns to follow Ileosa down into the first lesson. Taking note of the inscription, Senara casts a wary look around the bare room. Waving a hand in front of her, the conjuror intones a pair of words of infernal power—"Geheimnisse enthüllen"—and searches the room for arcane auras.

Casting detect magic and looking around the room for magical auras, penetrating up to 1 foot of stone, 3 feet of wood or dirt, 1 inch of metal (not including lead), etc., etc.

Vallen's outburst earns a curious look from Ilystria. She hadn't witnessed the cottage roof attack the dwarf, personally or otherwise, but she would understand if it had. She had thought Vallen might have learned his lesson about insulting structures back in the tower of her archnemesis, the evil fey queen baobhan sith. He must be a slow learner, she realizes with a quiet sigh. She would have to be patient with him and other mortals in general when it came to teaching them the ways of her people. It's a good thing that the Queen of the Narlmarches has an abundance of patience.

"Is it fixed yet?" Ilystria asks for the fourth time in half as many minutes. Sure, she had agreed to let Vallen "fix" the bell but she hadn't known how long it would take. "Is this necessary? The gate is already open. Could we not just..." Ilystria trails off then, going quiet as she starts taking small, subtle steps towards the open gate.

@Vallen I have to wait one more level to gain 3rd level spells, so if Vallen can have it on hand until then, Ilystria can take over once we get to level 6.

Once back in the mortals' kingdom, Ilystria finds most of the conversation between the leaders of Emeria and their courtiers goes over her head, figuratively and literally. When Vallen asks her about a hidden village, the gathlain flies up to read the note over the dwarf's shoulder. It takes her a fair bit longer to do so too, the fey queen's plant-like wings beating beside Vallen's head while she tries to decipher the hasty scrawl. Once she finally does, Ilystria answers with a very human gesture, hiking her shoulders up towards her tapered ears and shaking her head. "Considering my own advisors have been a little ...lax when it comes to informing me about the presence of others of my kind, I cannot dismiss the possibility out of hand. But I doubt it. If we fey hid this village in the treetops, your Jubilost would not have found it unless they wanted him to," Ilystria says, the pride in her voice unmistakably clear.

Knowledge (Geography): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11 Just in case; does she know anything about this strange little village? EDIT: I'm going to go out on a limb and say that's a hard 'no'.

Ilystria's delicate features scrunch up in confusion when Cassandra mentions a 'Tig' and a 'Perl'. "You mean my Tyg-Titter-Tut and Perlivash?" Ilystria considers the possibility for a few moments before once again shaking her head. "No. They were remiss for not telling me about the evil fey court, but they would have told me if they were entertaining one of your people's sproutlings," she answers assuredly. "If he was taken by my kind, it is more likely that he has become the pet of whoever rules the demesne he took the animals from." As the group considers going after the wayward mortal, Ilystria nods. "I will join you. If another fey has taken this 'kid', then I can help negotiate his return for a fair price."

I'm sorry to hear that Jesse. I think not knowing makes things worse, so I hope they figure out what's ailing you soon and fix it!

Ilystria moves to the grig's side when she notices the other fey's placating behavior and takes Tyg's hands in her own. "I never meant to give you my anger," Ilystria says, assuring Tyg and mangling the mortal's odd, at times unsatisfactorily expressive language simultaneously. Why she deigns to speak it with her fey friends, in her own Court no less, is a mystery to Ilystria. But perhaps she understands more of the mortals' concept of courtesy than she realizes. "Forgive me. My anger is my own. All this time we've played tricks on the mortals and had revelries while these evil fey have been conspiring against us! Their queen could have ordered an attack on us at any moment and I would have been defend to defend my Court! To defend the both of you..."

Glancing around the glade that is her throne room, Ilystria's gaze, at once ancient and vernal, falls upon the leaders of River Run. "But that time is at an end. I will go back with these mortals to their kingdom. We will make the bee's lines and together we will do away with the Court of the Evil Fey! And once that is done, we will build an alliance between our peoples that will last for the ages!"

I'm okay with either. We do still have an owlbear to wrangle though, right?

Although disappointed in the fact that they won't be dispensing any Narlmarch Court justice just yet, deep down Ilystria understands that choosing to retreat is likely the wisest option. And so she turns and trudges after the mortals, her spirit weighed down so heavily that she doesn't trust her wings will be able to bear her aloft. But as she is soon to demonstrate for her fellow rulers—and likely not for the first time, either—the depth of her emotions is rivaled only by their transience.

"My faithful courtiers!" Ilystria gleefully returns the greetings, her plant-like wings suddenly functioning just fine once more. "I feel as if it has been so long since I last saw your sunshiny faces!" Turning to find Perlivash perched on Vallen's shoulder, Ilystria nods before gently correcting the faerie dragon. "Our alliance is going well, but there is still much left to be done if we are to build a lasting accord between our Court and the mortal kingdom," she says, trying out the word she had heard others use in reference to the non-fey's court.

When Tyg-Titter-Tut admits to knowing about their evil kin in the tower, Ilystria looks positively scandalized. "You knew about them this entire time?" she asks, swinging her wide-eyed, pupilless gaze from the grig to the dragon, and back again. "But you never told me! We should have been waging a war against them from the start and trying to rid their influence from the surrounding lands," she says, sounding less like a Queen chastising her subjects and more like a friend exasperated by the forgetful antics of her other friends. "We may not have had the numbers for a direct strike, but I'm certain we could have found other groups of folks like them"—she hooks a thumb in the direction of her allies—"and convinced them to do it."

Knowledge (Nature): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21 To identify the weaknesses or abilities of a quickling.
Knowledge (Nature): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27 Ditto for the grimstalker.

Further complications indeed.

Ilystria makes a thoughtful little noise as she crouches down to inspect the tracks. First, she measures the impression against the span of her hand. Then she lifts up one of the leaves that had been trampled by the mysterious creature and looks it over with a critical eye before taking a perfunctory sniff. And after a few more moments of looking like she knows what she's doing, the fey settles back on her haunches with a quiet huh. "I wonder what made these."

Knowledge (Nature): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16

Jenya

The little fey cocks her head at the mortal's seemingly limited understanding of the workings of magic. "Well... Magic is a part of me. I budded from the Great Tree knowing how to use it. Not always in grand ways, not at first. That took time and practice and, yes, learning. But every fey is formed with the seeds of magic already inside them."

Ilystria looks Jenya up and down, feeling that, if the mortal possessed any spark of magic, she would have sensed it by now—despite having no evidence to support that theory. "Is it the same for your kind?"

Cassandra

"Oh..." Ilystria's pointed ears droop under the weight of her disappointment once Cassandra explains her wishes more clearly. She had been so close to striking her first bargain with a mortal. In the world she comes from, favors are currency, and any Queen worth her title knows how to amass such favors like a leprechaun hoards gold. Unfortunately, it's clear to her that she still has a ways to go in becoming as skillful a negotiator as her royal counterparts back in the First World.

Jenya

Turning to Jenya, Ilystria gives a slow blink of her featureless eyes before answering the woman's first with a perfectly human gesture: an emphatic nod. "I know not how many of them there are, either in this world or mine own, but even one, single Unseelie is one too many," she says, a sneer pinching her delicate features. But the look is soon replaced by a thoughtful expression when Jenya inquires about magic. "Magic is the best way to deal with everything, I feel. Although... I suppose having other means to rely on is never a bad thing."

Ilystria's grassy green eyebrows furrow in confusion at Jenya's final question. "Do what I do... You mean be a Queen?" The petite fey's face takes on an apologetic cast as if she has some unfortunate news to share with the mortal. "Where I come from, anyone with enough influence and favour can learn to rule. However, your friend here"—she points a finger in Vallen's direction—"has since told me that the same is not true of your rulers. Apparently, the right to rule for you mortals comes from the nobility of your blood. If your blood is not noble, I do not know that you can be a Queen in this land."

Ilystria only needs two hours of sleep (how lucky!), so she can help with three other watches plus her own before going to bed.

Despite her protests, Ilystria retreats with the rest of the group, grousing and pouting the entire way. At the campsite, the fey queen settles onto the bough of a nearby tree while her mortal friends gather round the fire. And though she initially seems determined to stew in her anger at finding one of her evil kin so close to her territory and not banishing her back to the First Realm, the bigguns' conversation inevitably draws her both from her dark emotions and her perch.

Suddenly appearing beside Cassandra with a few flaps of her viny wings, Ilystria proudly boasts, "I can help with that!" She gives the woman what she thinks is a dazzling smile, but up close it's hard not to notice that the fey has a few too many, too sharp little teeth. "But first, what is it you offer in exchange? A 'weak' what?"

Oh, wow. You're moving to a new state? Guess I'll stop complaining about having to move two miles up north.

Good luck! I hope everything goes smoothly!

I'm a fan of Vallen's plan. It involves less risk, I think, than my initial plan, which was to send an invisible, enlarged, barkskinned, bloodraging Vladric up to try and sneak grapple the fey. If anyone has any suggestions on spells I should prepare, I'm happy to take them. Otherwise I'll probably go with what I have now.

I think I finally got around to making the loot sheet editable: clicky! Let me know if I'm mistaken and it's still read-only.

I see, I see. But the saving throw re-roll and morale bonus also only apply to abilities that possess or exercise mental control over the target, which is why I thought the temporary immunity would also apply to her entrancing dance. Just pointing it out since there are a lot of easily overlooked parts to that particular spell, but I agree that it's definitely GM Jesse's call.

Not like I'm trying to make this fight too easy for us or anything...

Just wanted to point out that I think we would be effectively immune to her dancing if we're​ all under the effects of protection from evil.

Second,... While under the effects of this spell, the target is immune to any new attempts to possess or exercise mental control over the target. This spell does not expel a controlling life force (such as a ghost or spellcaster using magic jar), but it does prevent them from controlling the target. This second effect only functions against spells and effects created by evil creatures or objects, subject to GM discretion.

Otherwise, aggressive thundercloud provides concealment for anything inside the cloud, so I think it could break line of sight for any of us that fail our saves against the dancing again. Problem is it only covers a single square, so she'd be able to 5'-step out every round. Then there's Lily's entangle SLA, but I'm pretty sure a 40' radius circle would cover the entire room.

As far as getting through her spell resistance, Ilystria's sonic blast exploit is a supernatural ability and not subject to SR, so that's good.

We could have Vallen call in a bunch of Dwarven masons to brick her up in the tower à la Elizabeth Bathory. Which might be fitting considering what she planned to do to Vladric.

But if you were looking for helpful suggestions, I... don't have any. =/

If that's the plan, will we be exploring the rest of the keep or calling it a day? I've no preference either way, just curious about what you all think.

"No-good, foul, blood-drinking, Unseelie..." Ilystria snarls as she's lost in the shuffle of larger bodies all moving toward the staircase. Her colorful, scathing rant carries on like that for a bit with Ilystria slipping into her native tongue of First Speech when she finds the mortals' language to be inadequate in expressing the degree to which she loathes her fey kin. Only once she's outside does her head begin to cool—somewhat—her anger giving way to surprise as Vallen hustles away.

"Uncertainty? What uncertainty?" she questions, flitting around to hover in front of the dwarf. "I am entirely certain of what needs to be done! Unseelie fey like her pollute everything around them with their very presence. If we hope to contain the spread of her vile influence from reaching your lands and mine own, then we must to send her back to the Fey Realm at once!"

That said, I'm perfectly happy with a tactical retreat.

She spares a casual glance down at Tish's feet as she struts around and scowls, "Bit gaudy don't ya think?"

"Perhaps a bit tacky, if I'm being honest," Tish freely admits without breaking stride, sounding almost apologetic. Such an admission might be surprising if not for the saccharine smile that's clearly just a touch too smug for her comment to have been in reference herself. "But I'm glad you'll be staying on with us all the same." And that, at least, is the Gods' honest truth. But far be it from Tish to say something nice about another without some sort of sting in the tail.

Later with Almara, Tish is careful to keep her features composed into a gentle smile regardless of how uncomfortable the display between the ringleader and "the sphinx" makes her. Any sort of affection that wasn't carried out privately or as part of a transaction had a way making her feel slightly ill. It is, perhaps, a quirk she ought to examine more closely one day, but who has time for self-improvement?

Tish quickly glances into the proffered coin purse and isn't surprised to see nothing but silver shields glinting back at her. The carnival mistress had warned her early on that they had little in the way of coin to offer in exchange for the group's services, so Tish was hardly disappointed in that regard. She had been more interested in the magical keepsakes Almara had hinted at. When said keepsakes turn out to be six garden variety healing potions, it requires Tish to make a monumental effort to keep the placid smile on her face. Still, the temperature in the room does seem to noticeably dip.

Just as she's musing about how funny it would be to have gone through so much effort to save Almara only to shoot her now, Tish realizes it might be more profitable in the long run to play nice with the Umbra Carnival. Snapping shut the case containing the potions, Tish hands it off to one of her teammates before rising gracefully from her chair. She waits for Almara to disentangle herself from Ika and do the same before extending her hand to the woman. "From one ringleader to another, it was a pleasure doing business with you, Almara. I hope you never run into similar troubles in your travels, but if you should, our services are always available."

On the way back to The Good Noodle, a safe distance from the carnival grounds, Tish huffs and, with a roll of her eyes, disdainfully mutters a single word. "Varisians."

Ilystria slowly comes back to her senses once the warm weight of Jenya's hand settles over her eyes. After listening to the woman's frantic explanation, Ilystria hesitantly replies, "I-I can try...?” And although she doesn't understand one bit of Jenya's logic, the would-be queen imagines it can't hurt to try her plan. And so, clearing her throat, she begins, "S...O...M...E...T—Oww!" The bang of Jenya's firestick going off near her is painfully loud in Ilystria's delicately tapered ears, but at least it helps clear the rest of the cobwebs from the fey's mind.

"Oh! You meant use magic? ...Yes. Yes! I think I have just the thing for this!" Spinning in place, Ilystria faces the wall before rooting around in the small rucksack at her hip. A second later, Lily finds what she's looking for; a wrinkled, rolled up piece of parchment that she quickly unfurls and reads from. (Casting obscuring mist from a scroll.)

"There once was an ugly fey who danced.
She thought she was rather advanced.
She wanted a kiss,
But in rolled the mist,
And now we're no​ longer entranced."

Protection from Evil
Will Save: 1d20 + 4 - 2 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 4 - 2 + 2 = 11

No! No! Bad touch! Ilystria grumbles and petulantly tries to slap away the hands that reach for her. The rough drag of them across the skin of her arm was all wrong. They were too broad, too callused, too... hairy. No, the fey queen was suddenly, inexplicably desirous of a more delicate touch.

Are you sure these boots of the rat aren't more your style, Jix? =P

"Oh, she's with us," Tish casually answers from where she stands next to the Sheriff, looking remarkably composed for having just come out of such a long and arduous battle. "She was one of the two that rather friendly wizarding fellow sent you here to replace. We thought she had scurried off when things started to get troublesome, only to find her trussed up in one of the backrooms." She gives an amused, probably inappropriate little huff afterwards as she shakes her head. "It's funny how things work out sometimes, isn't it?"

Turning back to the Sheriff, Tish pastes on her winningest smile as she tries to inveigle the lawwoman into letting her back in the warehouse for a few minutes. "I would just hate to be a bother, and you and your deputies look like you have your hands full here," she waves her hand at the bound thieves, "If it makes things easier, I could just take a quick peek inside to see if anything catches my eye. Of course I would check with you first to see if anyone had a claim on it and..." Seeing she's getting nowhere with the stone-faced Sheriff, Tish drops the act. "Fine. Just whatever loose jewels you can find, then." After all, she knows from experience trying to get a decent price from a fencer on a piece of inscribed jewelry is a nightmare.

"Or, failing that, at least a decent pair of boots. And nothing cheap, for Gods' sake."

Not to metagame or anything, but it's pretty clear to me what Jenya needs to do here: Have a dance-off.

Also, I'm having trouble moving my icon on Roll20.

With a beatific smile upon her face and eyes glazed over, Ilystria gently sways from side to side as if trying to (poorly) imitate the other fey's hypnotic dance.

Yeah, save one for me, too!

I'm sorry for being​ gone so long, but I'm happy to be back and feeling better now. DM Default gave me the thumbs-up to jump back into the game, so once I think of an appropriately Tishy excuse for Tish to have been​ absent for most of the fight, I'll have a post up.

Knowledge (Nature): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22
Will Save: 1d20 + 4 - 2 ⇒ (2) + 4 - 2 = 4

Ilystria's attention refocuses on the elven woman when it seems she's finally ready to speak. A slight chill runs down the gathlain's spine as the elf begins to dance instead and the typically oblivious fey starts getting suspicious as the woman's movements become more and more familiar. But the pieces fall into place too slowly, and before Ilystria knows it, she finds herself captivated by the bavanshee's graceful dance.

I agree! Please let us know if you're okay and where we can find a clip of you dancing online. ^^

Ilystria smiles to herself as the group makes it up the staircase without any more purple mist appearing, pleased to find that at least one rule she learned in the First World still held true in even in this strange Mortal Realm: It's important to mind your manners.

Once they reach the second floor landing, Ilystria doesn't immediately notice the elven woman, fascinated as she is by the marriage of stonework and greenery the room features. She runs a gentle hand over the hanging vines and the fragrant blooms and wonders if the same could be done to the castle back in River Run, or at least to the chambers she was given for her stay. Just as she's about to ask Vallen, who seems to be in charge of the architectural improvements of the fort, if such a thing is possible, she hears the dwarf introducing himself to someone.

Though surprised to find the beautiful elven woman alone in the supposedly abandoned tower, Ilystria recovers and gives the woman a bright smile. "Greetings! I am Ilystria Leafheart, Queen of the Narlmarches," she introduces herself as she steps forward, fluttering her wings and filling the space with the delicate perfume of hibiscuses. "My apologies for the intrusion. My friends here were also concerned that bandits might have made their home in your tower. Have you had any trouble with them in your territory? These mortals were kind enough to rid my demesne of their presence; maybe we could do the same for you."

Looking around at her companions for validation, Ilystria's smile falters as she looks to Jenya. "Are you feeling well? Your face is as red as a lillukka berry..."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (20) + 12 = 32

Aww, thanks! I wish I didn't have to leave in the first place (especially considering I just got here), but I'm so glad to be back. You guys are great. =)

Hi all! DM Jesse gave me the greenlight to jump back in, so I'm happy to be back in the game. Thank you all for your patience, and DM, thank you for botting Ilystria in my absence.

The seriousness of the situation lost on her, Ilystria covers her mouth and tries to stifle the tittering laughter the grumpy one's sudden, odd behavior elicits from the diminutive fey. It isn't the first time she's witnessed a mortal take leave of their senses, but—for her and most of her kind—it was a joke that never stopped being funny. Noticing that no one else seems to find the event amusing, the fey queen redoubles her efforts to make it seem like she's not laughing at Vallen by waving a hand in front of her face and trying to pass it off as a fit of coughing brought on by the mists. She gives a few weak coughs to sell it, then delicately clears her throat once she's finally regained her composure. Though it's hard to know for sure considering her eyes have no discernable pupils, one gets the impression that the faerie dignitary is sheepishly looking away after her apparently inappropriate outburst.

"Maybe the mist attacked because you insulted the ones who built this tower? You should try saying something nice about them this time," Ilystria suggests in all sincerity from her spot outside the tower.

"I'm fine..." Once the battle is won and the rush of fighting begins to fade, Aelerie doubles over to catch her breath, physical and magical exhaustion settling in. Her wounds throb, demanding the arcanist's attention, but they are a small concern compared to the young werewolf that lies dead at her feet. This isn't how I wanted it to end. Despite that, Aelerie finds it hard to feel too terrible about the outcome after being the target of Jeva's cruelty again. "Thanks to you two fending her off."

Aelerie straightens up again as Javell's holy light washes away her pain. Nodding her thanks to the Desnan, Aelerie retrieves one of the few wands on her person and offers it to Javell handle first. "That reminds me: Lady Cirthana gave this to me after I escorted her back to the Hollow. I'm not sure how much magic is left in it, but I have a good feeling you'll have an easier time of drawing it out than I will."

Looking skyward for a few moments, Aelerie tries to determine how much time there is left in the day before looking around to her companions. "I would offer to help bury them, but The Lady said the ghosts would need proof that their deaths have been avenged..." she comments, not wanting to go into too much detail about the unseemly task that lay ahead. "Should we make camp for the night, or...?"