Samoon's page

Sane-looking for the moment, Samoon gently smiles at Marianne. "Don't put words in my mouth, sis. That may have been my dream once, but now I'm just looking for Bree."

You walk a long way, Samoon's light keeping fresh air inside your bubbles. "Here. Get ready for another of those crushers."

Addressing Samen, "Don't ask for help from Stof, your Dust genie, again. He has a price. So goodbye, family. And don't worry. Bree is here, and I'm going to find her."

He gives you just enough time to realize what he means, he hugs you all quickly, and,

-another giant's fist of icy pressure, crushing-

goodbye

"Oh my Sky...the little elemental in my staff is talking to me again...he says those are stars, like in those old myths dad used to tell us. Those tiny little lights all around us..." Tears stream down his face. "That's where they've been hiding...these are his brothers..." He hugs himself, clearly in distress, but not in danger.

Samoon laughs and laughs. "You can just keep making copies of the skin, and that reflects the light of the bubbles! It's like we're all wearing suits made of his stupid copies. Hahaha!" You can tell there is a note of sylph madness in his voice...but somemtimes a bit of sylph madness can make extraordinary things happen.

He becomes somber again. "Samen, ask your dreadful woodcut to bring us to the nearby Valley. We're close enough - I think it would love to drag us closer, like gravity. Everyone gather round, don a lightsuit, and make ready for a trip through one of the Breathless Valleys. We can use it like a tunnel, and get the hell away from this city and that smiling thing."

Samoon's brow furrows at Abby's words. Everyone, back inside, away from those awful beams of light. I feel them on my skin, and in my head.

assuming you agree

The ceramic walls block out the light, and most of the noise.
"Better. Samen, is that inquisitor's skin still usable? I think that whatever god this is, their elens might have a natural resistance to the Valleys. Can you do your weird elemental thing and help me get a self-sustaining life-bubble around us?"

"Yes, let's do that right now."

"What if we just stay down here in the basement, and hide from the loud noises? I bet I could whip us up something drinkable with the lab ethanol..."

samoon will save at -4 vs sylph: 1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (10) + 2 - 4 = 8

Samoon is at 10 HP. He has 1 cold bomb left.

Samoon fort: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

Samoon looks away and shields his eyes with an outstretched hand. "Ha! I've seen celerity flashes brighter than that."

The sylph alchemist rushes over to Marianne, and administers a cure moderate wounds infusion.

cure mod: 2d8 + 5 ⇒ (8, 3) + 5 = 16

Samoon throws two ice bombs at once, possibly his last two on his belt,

ice bomb, touch, rapid throw?: 1d20 + 9 - 2 ⇒ (3) + 9 - 2 = 10
damage, ice: 3d6 + 5 ⇒ (4, 2, 2) + 5 = 13
ice bomb, touch: 1d20 + 9 - 2 ⇒ (17) + 9 - 2 = 24
damage, ice: 3d6 + 5 ⇒ (6, 4, 5) + 5 = 20

and both hit, despite the leftmost bomb rotating clumsily through the air, the golem is a large target, not prone to sudden dodges.

both are slowed for now. this would be countered by fire damage inflicting on them

Samoon briefly updates Iniga on the plan to denature the cwmwl, and hopefully negate the effect the stockpile has been having on the sylphs of the city. "Everyone ready? No telling what will happen once we start dumping the salt."

Samoon throws up on the floor, the smell of bile like concentrated fear. "Ugh. I was scared of golems before I knew they could go berserk. Another city ruined for me, I guess."

cold bomb touch: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15
damage: 2d6 + 4 ⇒ (2, 1) + 4 = 7

Volcing Sky!"
He almost fumbles it, but Samoon manages to lob a cold bomb at the golem. It slows noticeably.

Samoon looks at you intensely. "Is this one slumbering, too? Maybe this is the only chance to take it out, destroy its body, before it gets even stronger." He shrugs. "Or we can try to convince a bunch of cuckoos scattered all over the city to ruin their own life's work."

Samoon nods at Samen's suggestion. "Yeah. I'll keep a lookout I guess." Swish woosh as the airtight door opens and closes behind him.

Answering Samen, "Ok, so too much of this stuff makes madness. But what if that's only the first emergent property? I think we need to shut down production and destroy what's here, otherwise we may see a second property we like even less. The madness will either disappear as our destructive efforts succeed...or it will die out on its own."

to Iniga, "I don't think it can be made safe. The very existence of this stuff, this anti-Dark stuff, also tends to create these conditions."

"I think it was cuckoo-crazy outside, all night, with nutty sylphs hanging upside-down from celerity wires, gathering into alchemist mobs and having cwmwl parties. That version sounds a little closer to reality, screwy as reality can be at times."

"I don't know! They're always around, to eat the dead. Now they're going crazy, just like everything else. Cracked Sky only knows."

Samoon takes you into the building and down the stairs once more. He voice shakes less this time when confronted by the golem. "Heed, Golem! Message For Helen Instra. Reads, 'Samoon To See You'. Proceed, Golem."

Samoon shakes his head. "This city is too diverse for a simple answer to that question. There are different schools and disciplines within the University, all of which have labs and master alchemists performing independent research. There are commercial alchemy companies that have nothing to do with the University. Private entrepreneurs like Rentwyrth have their own little groups. Probably a fair amount of solitary geniuses and crackpots too. No one controls it all."

He walks in silence for a few moments, thinking, as a vulture grunts from a nearby rooftop. "If we're looking to minimize the damage as much as we can, Helen is still the elen to talk to. If anyone has her fingers in these crazy cloud pies, it's her."

It is seventh candle.

Samoon wakes up in bleary-eyed agony. "Getting drugged and conscripted by a mob of crazy alchemists comes with a hangover headache too? Come on!"

"Beating Joey at mind games? I'm impressed, cousin." A pause. "Also tired. I'll try to remember any details, Samen, but for now my head's just too foggy. There's food in the pantry. Night all."

sleep and take watch as you will

"I was just in a stream, like carried away in a current of sylphs, mostly alchemists. Next thing I know I'm waking up, and all I have is vague memories of making more cwmwl. Umm, this really annoying music was playing, too."

"We can have calm, measured discussions when we are at least in the illusion of safety. Table it until we get to my place."

you are overall a stealthy party, and the craziness seems to be dying down somewhat, so everyone can just take 10 and get home safely

so continuing these questions now at Samoon's home

Outside, Samoon leans against the curved wall, catching his breath. "Ok, so we still need to get my staff back, convince Instra to stop production of cwmwl, and plunge into the Breathless Valley, all before the town falls apart under curious sylph disease. Does that about cover it?"

"Umm, here's an idea - let's just run away? Go out the exit right here, maybe close the door so the thing can't get out of the bird lab?" Samoon is already headed for the exit, keeping one eye on the vulture as he does so.

"There's no brass on me this time, and no weird hypno-dragon thing, but I see where you're coming from. And yes, by all means thump away if I start foaming at the mouth."

"How long was I down there for?"

"Was I? Don't remember much after we went looking for those magic glasses. Very stylish by the way, Mar, that slight touch of librarian really accentuates the whole outdoorsy bow and arrow thing."

samoon stealth: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12

Samoon frowns. "Am I drunk again? When did that happen?"

"We should leave. There's too much cwmwl...something bad is going to happen."

2 is good: 1d2 ⇒ 2

Samoon groans, half-asleep as Wamblee nearly steps on him while moving across the room. "I knew it! You and Obdurate have grown to the size of a mountain!"

"Sure, I can take sis around and see what we see. Still have dad's mysterious gold lying around somewhere? Samen, you should stay if Wamblee is going to be consulting the boulder oracle. You can figure out what questions to ask, and keep an eye out."

Samoon straightens his scruffy lapels. "I take exception to that remark, even if I am an alchemist who uses invisibility on occasion."

"Great. Let's not get our heads crushed by golems on our way out."

outside now

Samoon breathes in through his nose, then lets it out, steaming in the cold. "Okay. Helen is apparently a bigger player than I thought. To have those killers at her command..." He shakes his head. "I don't know what's going on."

"Am I allowed to speak now? That deal stinks. Maybe we'll find some on the street instead, and if we find something amazing we'll make sure to sell it to your competitors first."

"Just don't make any wrong moves, okay? Those...those are the nasty ones."

Samoon jumps. "Ahh, volc! Okay, a big scary golem, cac, uh, how do you talk to these things..." He rubs his temples, muttering, thinking aloud, "Ah, ahem. Heed, Golem! Message For Helen Instra. Reads, 'Samoon To See You'. Proceed, Golem."

Samoon shrugs. "Ah well, it was worth asking." He flips a silver to a street vendor on the corner. The young el tips his worker's cap to Samoon, then turns on his machine, bursting with tubes and wires. A brief buzz of crimson celerity, and a small magical breeze blows out, removing dirt, shining shoes, and even tidying Samoon's hair. Your brother mutters a distracted thanks and takes the wide stone steps up to the supply building.

Inside, a large foyer, polished floors, halls in three directions. Ignoring these, Samoon takes a sharp left, leading you to a narrow, winding set of stairs.

Hands in his pockets, whistling tunelessly, Samoon says, "Now, at the bottom of these stairs, we will find..."

Samoon nods. "Yeah, you're right, Samen. Helen appreciates honesty, so that's what I'll give her."

Samen, Wamblee:

After a breakfast of banana pancakes and ginger ale at a local diner down the road, Samoon is closer to feeling elen.

"So run this through for me one more time? Let's be wildly optimistic and assume we get through to Helen. And I say, 'Hey there friend, my two large oread brothers and I wanted to shoulder our way in here and ask you for a pinch of cwmwl because...." He rolls his hand forward, asking one of you to continue the sentence for him.

Samoon stands up. "Eugh. Just a moment, beloved family." He walks quickly to the only other door in the place. Opening the door, you see it is a washroom. Closing the door, your brother is noisily ill.

The sound of running water - you realize they have pipes connected everywhere in this city, even cheap second-story flats. Swishing, spitting. Miserable groaning, deep breaths.

Opening the door once more. "Phew. Alright. What time is it? I need breakfast before I talk my way in to see Helen."

Samoon laughs hoarsely at Samen's question. "Uh, normally I would say the most important person I could get in touch with is Joseph Rentwyrth. But obviously that bridge has been burned, melted with acid, and whatever other destructive energies you can conjure these days."

He strokes his chin, considering. "The only person who would be willing to see me these days is Helen Instra. I did very well in her classes, and she never felt the need to be fawned over by students. I respected that."

He shrugs. "She had a decent amount of seniority I think, so if we're looking for favors that's all I've got."

"I mean, sure, yeah, visitors and deliveries, but the few times I visited the damn place over the years I needed a friend from the Magerium to escort me in, and they cast all this dispelling magic on me, in case it was some assassin in a Samoon-disguise I suppose."

Samoon shrugs. "Sure, I've got a few people I could talk to, but the problem is getting in. Mages aren't the type to let strangers in for no reason, and I have no idea when the blokes might come out next. They might have their heads in an old dusty book for the next two weeks, like as not."

"Well assuming Ob's rock-prophecies are accurate, and assuming we're interpreting it correctly, then the best way to mess up the Alchemists is to get the Mages involved. Those two hate each other, and the Mages must despise all the attention and support their rivals are getting."

Samoon's voice is quiet. "Supposedly, in a great enough quantity this stuff can start conferring Dark immunity to elens. Maybe even scrubbing away the infected areas near the borders, reclaim land that's been lost for millenia." He is silent a moment.

Sarcastic now, "Thankfully, I'm too worn down for that kind of a rumor to kindle any spark of hope within me." He shrugs. "The facts will show the truth. If it works right in front of me, then I'll believe it."

"Well hey, that is good news. As long as his murderous pinky toe or whatever still isn't lurking somewhere."

"Suspicious activity. Let's see here, that's minus the elemental-wielding oreads and ifrit that just strolled into town..." He reaches for something on the table, stops, then looks over the broken glass on the floor. He sighs.

"The biggest news of the past rite or so has been this new thing that the alchemists are working on. You know, Alchemists with a capital A, not bums like me who work at whiskey stills and tanneries. I don't know much about it - they call it cwmwl," he pronounces it koom ool, "which means "cloud" in Maker Script. They say it will be the next revolution in the fight against the Dark."

"I don't know if that's suspicious though. I just assume they are overselling it and it will just be one more weapon that doesn't really change things all that much. The locals are pretty crazy for it though - elens from all over the city are putting in extra hours, buying up raw materials, and bringing in food by the bushel to the laboratories so no one has to leave their stations."

"Hmm. Well, it certainly is better than smashing in the front door. Okay." He looks around for a moment, then realizes something. "Oh, and thank you, all of you. It means a lot that you would still help me after I flew the coop last time."

"Playing on his arrogance could work, but what about the details? Even if you manage to get him alone after a little schmoozing, how will we know where and when? We can't tail you the whole time, we'd eventually be seen."

"They're both here. Not hard to find, they've got a nice place in the north part of town. He showed me the inside once, years ago, just to brag about the wards and locks and the huge stash of booze."

"I may have, he coughs, "stalked him in a fit of cold rage hoping to murder him once or twice in the last few days, but he always has guards around. Sword els and alchemists. I may be depressed and a borderline alcoholic now, but I'm not suicidal, and charging at him in the streets would be nothing short of suicide."

"So your plan is...what? Assume he's an utter moron and go kick his ass? Do you know after all the crazy cac we did Forge, that Joey had Bree declared dead? I mean, before she even died! He has the entire Rentwyrth fortune now, he's got got guards and spies and Sky knows what else. And we've got, what? Arrows, stones, and a few magic trinkets."