Shovastika's page

Shovastika uses the bone-china milk jug and then the silver teapot to top up the cups of tea of herself and her two colleagues placed about the circular polished mahogany picnic-table.

44. The squad of half a dozen hellknights sitting right behind you.
They're attacking you because I told them that you're outlaws from Andoran - although I did this because I am in fact a potential NPC patron and I want to see how you can handle yourselves in a fight.

A few disappearances and mysterious demises occur around the world, as Shovastika's friend Lucinda Dark busies herself.

The meeting breaks up, and Lucinda Dark (no relation of Lucinda Darkeyes) sets off on a number of errands.

Shovastika returns from the Realms of Dream, to discover a more pressing problem has arisen.
She puts out a general alert, and the Daughters of the Morning congregate after snap-hiring a tea-rooms in the Bazaar.
The archmage, Lady Speladrin Kaltharûnír attends to the wards to ensure privacy for the emergency tea-and-scones meeting.

'...The Shadow Walks the Darkness Still,
Her Kindred in this Distant Age,
Their power undimmed whilst others' waned,
In fire and ash, in blood and rage,
Infernal lights which go not out,
Yet hide their thoughts from all most sage,
Each dire fiends that walk at will,
With little fear of any gauge...'
-verse from the Lay of the Fall of Avsilar, badly translated into common.

Shovastika walks the Wildwood, by the shadow of her own light, stalking the moonlit and darkness-dappled glades and threading the ancient labyrinth. She is generally much more at home in a city than in the wilderness, but occasionally she has to get a particularly tricky job done herself, since literally nobody else could achieve it.
In the end, she arrives at the heart of the wildwood, where close to the palace of the Elven Queen there is, as rumour and suspicions had suggested to her, a cottage standing in isolation near a glade.
To make things simpler, she does at least introduce herself to the guards, before going in.
What she finds within confirms the guesses that the Countess Almathrada, a longtime friend and fellow Daughter of the Morning, had made as to the state of mind of the Elven Queen and the state of her likely schemes.
Shovastika conducts a brief interview, before taking her leave and exiting the cottage.
She patiently rethreads the labyrinth, exiting the Wildwood in the same manner as she entered. Then, etiquette duly observed, she takes her leave of the Realms of Dream by somewhat speedier methods.
The Elven Queen will no doubt hear of her exploits, and be troubled, but Shovastika has played this one entirely by Nirellia's rules, leaving her no excuse for reaction.

"Quite. Thank you. A pleasure doing business."

She drops an ironic curtsey.

...The second is that, beautiful and evil, the Daughters of the Morning walk at times abroad, wrapped in the shadow of their own light - a light which was before even most gods were, and which will still be after all the gods are gone, and which is horribly unique to them, a last echo perhaps of the grandeur and splendour of the multiverse in the days when everything was new. Such creatures are outside of the the knowledge of even the gods, their thoughts their own unless they permit otherwise, and inscrutable as they wish to magic. It is said that only the most pure-hearted of paladins can defeat them, by sacrificing themselves, although the last deity of paladins and chivalry to attempt to disseminate that information broadly, to his followers, expired in a rather nasty manner as the homeworld of his pantheon was invaded by three simultaneous hordes of fiends, and a plague of Scro from spelljamming space, eliminating every last worshipper and cleric within hours...

Confound that Dragon! No wonder he so suddenly and abruptly vanished.

"Hmmm," Azuri'ith paused, considering. It wasn't exactly what he had been looking for, but last time the information she had brought was exactly what they needed. "Very well. I will have your payment brought momentarily." He spoke a few words in Aurun and a few minutes later the chests arrive the same as before.

As before she inspects them, and disposes of the contents in a practically identical manner.

I believe that a dragon of that name recently attacked a group of folk from the Carnival of Shadows, who had embarked upon a pilgrimage of some description. So much you will be able to easily find out for yourselves, however - perhaps even to identify and speak to some survivors. Be careful, however, since their former leader now carries a curse from the dragon. She makes a dismissive motion with one hand. But I do not like to carry tales of the doings of a dragon that old.

I do, however, have a little tidbit from the Realms of Dream which I thought that you might like to hear. For the same sort of price as we last agreed upon.

And suddenly a rather nondescriptly dressed woman of utterly unremarkable appearance is there, inspecting a couple of slight tears in her dull brown cloak.
Greetings.
I pedal information, at times, and was wondering if there was anyone here who might be in the market? I believe that I may have dealt with some of you before.

Eventually the tea and scones come to an end, and Aramintha goes on her way, and Shovastika, after seeing to the clearing up, goes about her own business.

Well. I wonder what has got her blood up quite so urgently? Shovastika comments as the darkness rolls on elsewhere.
She sees the quizzical glance of her companion.
Oh, that was the Night Dragon. Long story. I must tell you about it some time, if none of the others do.
The servants who have seen the fight earlier, and now the light, are left wondering what manner of creature their mistress is?

The afternoon is passing to a pleasant close, when the darkness rolls over the mountains, seeking, searching, hunting.
Oddly, as the preternatural darkness rolls overhead, and shadow falls over everything else, an illumination, as of a light long gone and forgotten gleams steadily from the terrace overlooking the tea-plantation, piercing the shadows that fall everywhere else.

Regaining something remotely resembling their 'everyday' appearance, Aramintha fussing over her ripped dress, and Shovastika doing her best to help salvage it, the pair return to their tea on the terrace.
Those cornugons are *gone* gone. Erased from existence. No word is going to get back to Z-K of what happened from that end, and it might make sense for him to reason that whatever obliterated them also disposed of Ashaundra. (Which in a sense, did happen.)

To Aramintha:
Well there was the millenium party with the herald who barged Ahnsalvios ruining a cocktail dress, the chains incident with the blacksmiths in Waterdrowned, the tea-plantation destroyed in that fight with the Abdarians a couple of centuries ago...
She begins ticking off points on her fingers.

To Aramintha:
We're going to have to do something drastic about her. Z-K will keep on looking so long as there's anything left of her he or his servants could sense.

She must be the sister of Lynora-Jill, Shovastika says to Aramintha. Cornugons sent after her... If I recall correctly she did a spell working for Nyarlathotep's little friend.

I really think you need some more practice at letting the soul linger, so you can savour it for answers, Shovastika sighs at her friend.

Hmmph. I am going to have to explain something to my employees who saw that, Shovastika grumbles, making her way back up to the terrace. She glances at Ashaundra.
So who are you, and what brought you here? And please don't lie. People have been trying to lie to me for tens of millions of years. I don't need to take your mind apart piece by piece to know if you're telling the truth or not.
All the two I took out knew was that they had been given orders to chase you, torment you, and drag you back to the Hells.
She looks at her friend.

Shovastika does not stop draining the other two cornugons, until they are burnt out husks.
Not a lot of defence against a 'proximity-effect' soul drain of a greater succubus if you come within range. Hope a friend catches you with a lasoo and drags you out is about all that works.
No defence against a direct contact kiss.

The cornugons flick with their chains at Shovastika, but with little effect other than damaging her dress, which does, however seem to *really* annoy her. The air about Shovastike fills with a horrible crackling hissing noise, and dances with blue sparks that spread out from her, and yet seem to dance with backward swirling lightnings. She adopts an air of terrifyingly intense beauty.
One of the cornugons has a chance to swear briefly, as they finally recognise the ancient terror that has overtaken them, before the paralysing effect of the soul-draining field locks in place.
Shovastika drops after the plummeting cornugons, keeping the field in place, locking and slaying them.

Wing span of approximately thirty feet from tip to tip, perfect maneuverability.

The pair exchange glances.
Shovastika quirks an eyebrow.
Aramintha makes an 'after you' gesture.
Shovastika elegantly sprouts her great leathery wings and with a neat little flick takes to the air, maneuvering to get both the flying cornugons within touching distance if possible.

I said clear off. I won't ask again nicely.
She rises to her feet.

Devils these days. I could have sworn that they were supposed to know better than to bother this valley, Shovastika sounds distinctly irritated.
Good thing I put on a low backed dress this morning.
She shouts at the intruding devils.
Oi, you lot, clear off. This is private property. I would have expected denizens of the Hells to have some respect for rules.

There's been a lot of activity with their heralds recently. Five of them now active. Signs that the others may shortly be retrieved and/or reactivated.

Lots of activity, not much of interest to us. Given that the Eldest Elemental Evils may shortly be taking over rather a lot of places, I may have to take on some succubi guards to keep my property interests safe, and hope that the Eldest is in negotiating mood.
It's so difficult to find a succubus hardened by adventures this millenium.
All they seem to do is loll around being 'kept' by mortal playboys.

Eventually, Shovastika and her guest retire to a terrace near the top of the plantation to sit under a silk awning and admire the view.
A table is set up, and a plantation servant brings out a bone china tea service and a couple of plates of scones.

(edited)
The spymistress arrives in the carnival grounds and proceeds to set about ruthlessly scavenging what stars have found thir way here.
Today she is in the shape of a plain, simple seeming woman, with a wicker basket, red and white spotted dress, and with a dark blue shawl about her shoulders.
She affects a rural bumpkin accent, when stopped and questioned by anyone, and expounds at great (and sanity threatening to many listeners) length upon the merits of pumpkin pie and chicken broth.
She cajoles stall-holders, she bribes lion-tamers, she threatens (after making sure nobody else is looking) the alligator keeper with 'his true heart's desire' if he does not co-operate, and picks the carnival clean of stars.

The spymistress slip away again.

Of course all of this could be a cunning plot to mislead me and get me to report this to you...
I'll leave you to make your mind up on that. You know Kobold Cleaver and who he reports to.

The spymistress arrives.
Ahh good, PlantJack, she purrs. How very timely.
I overheard a very interesting discussion between Kobold Cleaver and a cloaked figure a short while ago.
For free, I'll tell you that apparently an organisation called 'The Servants of the Board' has been disbanded, and that Kobold Cleaver is going to be a 'Blackguad of the Board'. His marble certainly went black.

The woman empties the contents of the chests into a bag of holding, which has several custom abjurations worked into the lining, then departs the Eyrie, leaving the empty chests behind.

She examines the contents of each chest, casting a speedy and professional eye over the contents.
Very well then. They will shortly be mounting a raid on this location from under cover of invisibility, using brooms of flying. They will be flying in in three groups of six, each carrying pebbles with silence spells on which they will discard at the last moment before they attack. They have been briefed to cry out propaganda - which they believe to be true - to the effect that if your grandaughter dies, it will restore their mistress, as she rises phoenix-like from Lynora-Jill's corpse.
The one behind this plot does not believe that these fanatics will succeed in assassinating your grandaughter - his intention is to sow seeds of doubt in your grandaughter, on the eve of a major confrontation, making her fear for her own safety and the consequences should she die in it.

Someone whose minions recently planted some bad-luck fetishes around the Sanctum of Sunny G has been contacting cultists of the the late unlamented Goddess of Dangerous Knowledge at the bazaar. If you want the rest it will cost you five hundred electrum pieces.

Yes. Regarding activity by someone who wants to give your grandaughter a nasty jolt. You have been given discretion to negotiate payment?

A nondescript human woman, of average height, in plain dark clothes (cloak drawn tightly about her, hood pulled up over her face), with little remarkable about her (although her basilisk leather boots are both highly expensive and highly practical) arrives at the place where visitors to the Eyrie are accustomed to wait. She requests an urgent meeting with 'someone important', stating she has 'information which might be worth purchasing'.
This is Shovastika. She appears to currently be mildly evil aligned, and her shape (to true-sight, etc) appears to be exactly how she currently looks. Attempts to read her mind simply bounced off.

Hmm, and so a chance to get information from an epic level spymistress is declined...
Shovastika slips away in another direction, changing to a different disguise as she does so.

Whilst Shovastika (for various reasons) is off 'most people's radars', Aunt Esmerelda might have heard of her or had dealings with her in the past.
The bit about seldom offering information with no obligations expected was true. Usually Shovastika operates on a 'I'll tell you that, but then I expect you to find out for me this, or do that for me there' basis.

I offered to research ONE question for her, with no obligations expected by me of her, as she had done me an inadvertent favour. I do not intend to explain what that favour was again; frankly it was enough of a risk commiting it to parchment as heavily warded as that, and mooting it aloud on an open street is the last thing which it would be prudent to do.

Post removed due to later post

It is not a habit that I have of making offers with 'no obligations attached'. Shovastika continues. If Esmerelda is too busy to read her mail, my offer did not reach her, or she chooses not to respond to it, then I consider that to be her loss.
I had assumed you were here as her messenger to respond, first and foremost amongst any business which you may have here.

Jay Frogskin wrote:

Nirellia Dimonia wrote:

Jay Frogskin wrote:

Frogskin flies in. He is dressed in noble garb, and has a small fez on his head at an odd angle. He does not look pleased about his clothing.

Nirellia, who happens to be passing along a street as Jay flies by, pauses to laugh in disbelief.

Frogskin glares at her. "Esmerelda insisted that I wear my proper garb while here. So shut up."

Oh, right.

She purses her lips to suppress further laughter and goes on her way.

Shovastika watches the elf depart, then makes herself known to Frogskin.

The nondescript woman that nobody really paid much attention to at the Sanctum slips out to the Bazaar for a few hours. One of her first ports of call is the 'Fires of Vengeance' shop, where she makes detailed inquiries as to who has recently been buying or selling what? At the end, a small bag of gemstones changes hands as payment for the information.

A nondescript seeming woman, who does not create any particular impression on the minds of other visitors to the Sanctum, discreetly wanders about the place, taking in the sights and sounds.