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(+2 if a spell or spell-like ability) Smarmy, conveniently bringing up the rear, makes his way down the stairs with the others... only to be greated by a deafening shriek coming up from below. Not sure what it was, but sure it's not friendly, he drinks the potion of invisibility he purloined from the assassins earlier.
Smarmy forces a conspiratorial smile on his face, as they return to the orchid room. "Amazing job, all of you." He says, almost sounding sincere. "I would never have been up to such heroics myself." "Now, as you can see, all that remains is activating this metallic flower." He continues, eyeing the orchid. "As you no doubt already have surmised, it should be a simple matter of just matching up the correct gem with the proper petal." He adds, trying to remember which ones were which.
"Tea?" Smarmy says, incredulously, as he turns around and sees Alisia pouring drinks. He has a hard time hiding his annoyed look. "I'm sure it is quite tasty, of course." He finally manages, after a deep breath, and forcing his usual charming smile on his face. "And this apparent ordinary looking door is no doubt a sure cause for *cough*celebration*cough*" Despite his words, he pulls at the door to open it... and hopefully get everyone's attention on more important issues.
"Help with what? Its a bloody door." Smarmy mutters under his breath, before forcing a smile on his face. "Oh quite clever." He says, in a more normal tone. "Though I believe this will prove much like the first room in the opposite direction. An illusion has no weight to trigger anything nor can it manipulate the door." "Though I'm sure you're aware of that." He adds with an unctuous smile. "Clearly a more solid eye is needed, as you say." He offers. "Thank you for the opportunity." He moves forward, and examines the doors, scowling in annoyance the entire time his back is turned to the others.
Smarmy, safely away from the others, whom he's pretty sure are going to make a mess of things, just snorts. "Did they teach you nothing in boot camp?" He asks, mostly rhetorically. "Triggers don't care how quiet you are. Just cause you have a soft foot, doesn't mean you weigh any less." He shakes his head.
"The insets on the petals for the big flower back there, would probably fit the gem." He adds. "So probably just need to grab something similar from all four sides, to activate the orchid in the middle." "On the plus side, perhaps the magic has expired now." He adds, with a smirk.
Since no one seems to be overly invested, Smarmy grabs the ring, and puts it on, then pockets two potions, for later use. He gladly accepts the Lady's invitation to chat in private... though his mood sours some when Xilt and Guy are invited too... though he hides it reasonably well. As Ofarah talks of the lamasaran vaults, his interest increases exponentially... his mind already imagining what secrets might be learned in such a place. Perhaps even more valuable that the elixir that inspired many of them. "My dearest Ofarah." He says, eloquently. "Such noble and altruistic goals should be nourished whenever possible!" "I am honored to assist you on such a task..." He smiles unctuously. "Or of course, 'not' assist you, should anyone ask."
Smarmy cat hit a vital spot because the assassin in blue is clearly mentally not in shape.
Smarmy frowns as the nearby assassin continues to cower on the floor. He feels no particular mercy for the man, so happily stabs him again.
But doesn't really put much effort into it, as he starts wondering where the other one got off to.
Smarmy frowns as chaos erupts all around, and his eyes narrow even more when it turns out the elf, Ceralan is at the heart of it. You just can't trust elves. Now was the perfect time to leap to the Lady's defense, and earn some favor! Of course, by the time he reacts, the elf is in a pit full of acid, the Lady in question is invisible, and the traitorous servants are fighting amongst themselves. Still, not too late to put on a good showing at least.
Even as he does so, the silver letter opener from earlier is dropping into his hand, out of sight. Suddenly he jabs it towards the empty space to the servant's right, where the other servant just went invisible.
, for damage.
Once the dinner is over, and folks are distracted by the departing guests, Smarmy's silver letter opener disappears once more, before any of the guards or servants wonder how it got into the building in the first place. ( ) He gives Alisia a glare as she get too informal, though quickly turns his attention back to their hostess. He makes sure to compliment her on the wonderful repast and company... never one to overlook an opportunity to gain favor. Though he keeps a watchful eye on the elf... still not sure what the man's game was.
Smarmy frowns at Ceralan's answer. Combined with the brush off he himself received earlier, the man was certainly acting cagey. Then again, Smarmy had a particular dislike of elves, which might be biasing his viewpoint. Still, the dwarf pears past Ofarah, looking carefully at the elf himself this time.
Unsure what the man's intentions are, he quickly jumps in to draw the lady's attention back his way. "Well, the elven renown for elegant words is clearly not all-inclusive." He says, with a frown at Ceralan, quickly replaced by an unctuous smile at Ofarah. "I can not speak for elves, nor would I wish to. But I could perhaps add a memory of my own." He reaches beneath his fancy coat, and withdraws a long slender silver letter opener.
"This was a gift from the radiant Paracountess over there, on my very first assignment with the Society." He sends a smile Zarta's way. "Though I doubt she recalls the moment herself. A pesky servant of hers was causing a considerable ruckus, and she merely asked for us to help sort it out... I assume as a favor for the Society to help ease in new recruits, more than anything else. She undoubtedly could have handled it just as simply herself." "Still, I was new at the time, so it was all very exciting." He adds with an almost genuine smile. "She allowed me to keep this afterwards..." He pauses for a moment, turning the letter opener over in his hands, before adding. "Though she did get me to agree to come back and visit her later, for doing so." "And I do so apologize for never fulfilling that promise my dear. He adds with a sly grin at the Paracountess across the table. "I admit to being a little intimidated at the time. One in a long line of regrets that still flutter about my brain on occasion."
Smarmy leans back and ponders, as Ofarah turns her attention to him. "If its time gone by you are interested in," He answers slowly. "Then the story of the last of the dwarven sky citadels, Jormurdun, probably fits that bill. Lost for millennia." "Even the task of relocating it in the first place, is a story all on its own." He adds, with a conspiratorial whisper. "Given that it took infiltrating another sky citadel, this one long ago overtaken by orcs. Once known as Koldukar, it is now more commonly referred to as Urgir, the orcish ruled capital of Belzken." "But it is not that, nor Jormurdun itself, that I shall speak of now, but the reaching of the later." He finally finishes, his voice solemn. "For Jormurdun was finally located. Originally in the lands of Sarkoris, but those lands were long ago overtaken, and consumed, by the demon infested Worlwound!" Long winded storytelling, ensues:
"The Society assembled an army to fight its way there." He continues, "The greatest of forces from Mendev and the Five Kings Mountains. Gloriana Morilla herself assigned me an entire battalion of Taldor troops to command."
He shakes his head slightly, letting a melancholy note works its way into his voice. "Alas, these were not seasoned veterans, like those from Mendev or my countrymen. No, most were but poncy nobles trying to justify titles they didn't earn, or can barely hold, or grandstanding blowhards, thinking themselves too important to die." He only barely glances Gaspar's way at this last comment. "But the Worldwound, it is not like other fields of battle." He looks towards Gaspar. "I have been to Isgar, and fought the goblinoids there. Sorry if I have not heard of you before today, I'm sure you accomplished much." He then turns to address Yala. "And I have kin who have battled the ice witches of Irrisen, I'm sure they were even worse." He is obviously making a thinly veiled slight towards both Gaspar (again), and perhaps Yala's, accomplishments. "All of those foes, are just trying to kill you, and you them. Battles in the Worldwound are far more dire. When you see thousands of teaming demonic hoards, literally crawling over each other, intend on not only ripping your apart with tooth and claw, but devouring your remains, and your very soul, you will know a true foe." He shakes his head, obviously something he has had personal experience with. "But it is not just the demons, you fight there, but the land itself." He adds, getting to the point of his tale. "The ground beneath your feet, the air you breath. Every dried out patch of grass or stunted tree twisted into disturbing silhouettes. Every insect or other life still trying to live there." He sighs. "All of it tainted by the abyss, and fighting you as hard as the demonic locals." "I've seen the ground open up, with no reason, the sounds of thousands of voices, howling and screaming in anguish rising up from it. Voices soon joined by dozens more, as those standing where it opened were swallowed up by it. Only for it to close, leaving no trace. We dug for hours, until hands were bloody, but never saw any sign of any of them again." "Plant life that sends up clouds of unseen spores, that turn men on each other. An entire advanced scouting team, did just that, tearing at each other with blades and knives, and even teeth and nails, until the last man left, just sat there, cutting on himself." He shakes his head. "By the time we found them, it was too late for even that last. And all due to a patch of moss on the side of a cliff, no bigger than this table." He motions to the table before them, for emphasis. "Air that suddenly turns toxic in the dark of night." He continues. "Entire tents of men, who do not wake come morning." "Hell." He adds suddenly. "At one point, it rained teeth. Human teeth, for the better part of an afternoon. We tried to keep our eyes raised and pretend we were just walking on strange gravel... but everyone new otherwise." "And that is just a handful of the dangers the land itself threw at us... between and ofttimes during the hoards of demons trying to devour our immortal souls." "But we fought past it all... and reached the gates of Jormurdun itself." He finally exclaims. "But reclaiming that from the horrors within, that is a story for another time." "We learned a great deal about the enemy, and the lands they had overtaken, during that campaign. Learning with a very high price. I doubt very few men returned home from it without injuries that still bleed to this day. Not just in body, but in here." He taps the side of his head. "And here." He touches his chest above his heart. "You have not done battle, until you've done it versus the true enemy of Avistan." He finally concludes.
Smarmy annoyance at Cerelan rebuff is quickly overshadowed by the announcement of their hostess' arrival. He quickly moves towards the table, intent on getting the best seat possible.
He is in luck, finding a place between the Trade Prince, and the Lioness herself. The dwarf silently congratulates himself on his good fortune, and his smile almost seems genuine for a moment, as he strikes up a conversation, on both sides... trying to gain a little favor before the food starts arriving. "Baron Smarmy. From Kravenkus. A wonderful gathering you have managed here, m'lady. I, personally, am honored to have been invited!" He says with his best ingratiating smile, before turning towards Aaqir. "And good to see you too Trade Prince. I have been eagerly awaiting a chance to talk shop, if you will."
Nonplussed, Smarmy sticks to his guns. "I couldn't agree more." Smarmy agrees unctuously, "This far from Thuvia, perhaps she allows her courtesies to lapse." "I did not come to question, merely to make introductions! I have much influence in this city, so if you are in need of my services, it would be my honor to assist! Am always on the look out for new contacts... and you seem a man of no small influence yourself."
"Of course. Of course!" Smarmy replies graciously, as Gloriana begs her leave to talk to Zarta Dralneen. As her back turns, the smile he had been holding disappears almost instantly, replaced by an irritated frown, as he turns to scan the remaining guests. He ponders briefly following Gloriana to talk to Zarta as well, but quickly decides it was probably better to leave that interaction to when he can get her alone. Eyeing the rest of the guests he does not know, he hones in on the elderly elven man, the rest appearing more interested in crowing about their own accomplishments, than offering any hope of bolstering his own. As much as he despised elves, they did tend to have good connections. He quickly hurries over to introduce himself, the ingratiating smile once more appearing on his face, like it never left. "Oh, make no mind of that one." He says, with a dismissive wave towards Alisia. "Her attempts to hide her true heritage are quite... unfortunate." "Baron Smarmy." He adds, with a slight bow. "From Kravenkus."
Smarmy wanders into the room, fashionably tardy, as only a true noble can. He is dressed in his best noble finery.
He observes his fellow Pathfinders enter the affair with a slight frown, and openly scoffs when Xill claims to be a Lord. He immediately approaches Lady Gloriana, bowing deeply, a sudden gracious smile on his dwarven features. "Baron Smarmy." He says, grandiosely, "Of Kravenkus." He adds.
"It is a pleasure to meet you beyond just the occasional sealed letter." He gives her a conspiratorial grin. "Do you know the others?" He asks, with a casual wave at the rest of the guests. "Amenopheus I recognize, and Miss. Dralneen of course." He tries not to blush. "Oh, and the Trade Prince." He continues quickly. "The remainder, are strangers to me, unfortunately. Though I imagine they are of some import, if Ofarah has invited them to this function."
The last to arrive is a well-dressed, stern-looking dwarf, with an impeccably manicured beard. Some might recognize him, though rarely fondly... as he rarely seems interested in socializing with other rank-and-file Pathfinders. You think his name is Smarmy... though he doesn't introduce himself. He listens to the others, with barely disguised disdain, though perks up a bit and seems to listen attentively when Kreighton Shaine speaks... though even then, a truly sensitive observer would note a hint of animosity, even there. He lets the others blather on, not really interested in the camaraderie, as he ponders the party at the Thuvian embassy, and smiled thinly. A perfect place to interact with those with actual influence.
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