Fantasy A Tide of Flames: a d20 Dungeons & Dragons adventure

OOC: Endless piles of Latex are wiping me out. If you guys need a Diplomacy check, I'd be quite grateful if Saint could roll for me. Otherwise the soonest I can post is starting to look like monday.

 

EDIT: Never mind, fix coming.

 

The Company of the Crescent Flame

The Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

The cleric's face grew grave as Skadi briefly related their need. "How long ago did you cast it out?"
"Actually, only a few minutes ago," said Zanaek. "We teleported from across the Vale to reach this place."
"Teleported? Were you working with Immerstal the Red?"
Zanaek frowned. The name wasn't immediately familiar. "No, saer. The mage with us -- saer William Marshall -- brought us from here."
"Did you take any precautions?" she asked. A frown as if something had tweaked her memory crossed the cleric's face as she looked at William, but was gone quickly.
"All that I could remember," said Zanaek, opening his hands. "An incantation to protect my companions, and then one to cut off the demon from abusing our prisoner's form."
Tredora was nodding, then turned to the halfling acolyte waiting patiently next to her: "Devin, call off the audience with Lord Haskinar. Have Menechem come up here right away. And some water and food for these adventurers." As the halfling left, she looked back at the Company again. "I assume you were hoping to find an Outcaster here?"
"If that is the name the Morninglord's church gives to what my temple calls a Sacred Exorcist, then yes. If he can help us locate the demon's corporeal form, of course." said Zanaek.
"Menechem Nathys is the most talented exorcist I have ever met," said Tredora. "And Lathander has graced our faith with several of the finest. We were most fortunate when he was accepted into this church. But tell me -- who is this prisoner you speak of? I assume he is the one in the robe and hood, but why do you hide his features from view in my presence?"

TAG: All

 

Sa'adi Adim
Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol

Skadi exchanged an uneasy look with Zanaek.

"Forgive us, Lady Goldenbrow, but, ah, the nature of our prisoner meant that we had to cowl her while out and about to prevent a certain degree of panic in the populace."

Skadi fidgeted with the hilt of her sword, wondering how best to phrase this.

"This is Ulwai Stormcaller, and she is a hobgoblin." Skadi sighed. This was going to get complicated, she could tell. "We captured her during our defeat of Urikel Zarl, the lich who dwelt within the Thornwaste, and she is currently subject to spells that dominate her will, rendering her more or less harmless."

The cleric looked over to Trelora hopefully, with an expression best described as please don't freak out.

"You understand our caution, I trust?"

[TAG All]

 

The Company of the Crescent Flame

The Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

"A hobgoblin?" The cleric's look was a mixture of incomprehension and disapproval and it rang through her voice as well. "You bring a worshipper of Gruumsh here, to my house, to the greatest house of Lathander in the Vale, seeking assistance for a hobgoblin?"
"It was the only human thing to do," said Zanaek, and his hands were opened in a pleading gesture. "Please, m'lady. If you had seen her face after--"
"I have seen the faces of many evildoers, cleric of Torm," Tredora interrupted him coldly. "Many of them that sought my death had a hobgoblin's face. These lands do not stand at peace solely from the work of Ker--the Lions of Brindol. The grottoes below this cathedral hold the bones of ten good men and women of Lathander who gave their lives in service to Elsir Vale. How dare you this? What are these stories you tell? You come here speaking of a matter of delicacy, and then spin some tale of a lich in the Thornwaste I have not heard of."
Her lips thinned. "I will know the truth behind this. Now."

Her hand dipped into her robe, pulling out something small in her hand. She began to incant syllables, eyes narrowing and flaring with gold light...

TAG: All

OOC: Spellcraft roll to identify what spell's being cast, if you want to.

 

OOC: I'll bite. Ah. Not very high, even with skill rolls not having critfails. Maybe all the glowy business makes it harder to tell, if that's not enough?

IC: Mazarun Zothyrr

Mazarun had stayed silent as they were escorted into the presence of Tredora Goldenbrow; he supposed she might be considered pretty enough, to some. The fact that she seemed to be aasimar was more interesting to the drow, though, no matter how bright her eyes or golden her hair.

She seemed pleasant enough at first, but as her mood deteriorated, so too did Mazarun's opinion of her. He idly wondered if she'd suffer some kind of apoplexy if she found out what he was; the thought amused him despite the obvious danger that would ensue if his nature was revealed.

He remembered that the tavern bartender had mentioned her, after the fight with Haskinar - and that was another point that stirred his unease, since Goldenbrow had, from her words, been planning some kind of meeting with a member of that family. The half-orc had sounded so admiring... Mazarun couldn't really see the appeal, at this point.

The drow tensed as he saw the Lathanderite begin to cast a spell - he guessed, from her demand for truth, that it would be one to ensure she'd know the truth when it was spoken. Still, his eyes narrowed as his mind worked away, trying to be sure.

Regardless, the question needed answering. He supposed it was time to be tactful again; angry priestesses, even human ones, were dangerous. "He was referred to as the Ghostlord," Mazarun said, keeping his tone polite. "In life, he was Urikel Zarl, as was said -" he nodded to Skadi "- and he was linked to the tribesmen who fought Elias Kharmantle. A sage in Brindol Academy told us some things about him - the sage thought him just a story, though." Mazarun shook his head wryly. "If he was just a story, he was the most solid and violent story I've ever helped fight, he and his subordinate undead creatures."

He looked over to Skadi and Zanaek, shifting back a bit as though conceding the attention to them. It ws best, he thought, if he limited what he said; he'd given honest facts about Zarl, and saying any more would only give him the chance to say something that might be wrong for this situation. No, they could handle this far better than he could; best to leave it at that.

Tag: Saint, Company

 

OOC: Here's my Spellcraft roll. Mildly disappointing for a wizard. Fingers crossed that the modifier helps...

IC: William Marshall

Tredora's reaction was hardly unexpected; being remotely kind to goblinoids was hardly a widely accepted practice in most of the civilised Realms (or even a lot of the uncivilised areas), but this was an emergency. William, therefore, stepped forwards to add his voice to the others. He had not missed her strange look at him, but deemed that also a matter to be dealt with later.

"My companions speak nothing but the truth," he said calmly, although his mind was working frantically to both find the right words and work out the spell she was casting. "We thought it best to ask the assistance of your church, Lady Goldenbrow, because the fact that there is a demon on the loose is surely far more important to the safety of the Vale than the identity of its victim. If it has taken her mind once, it may well try to do so again once the protective spells collapse. I venture to hope that you agree it would be safer for everyone if she was kept in custody and the demon permanently removed, rather than leaving her free to roam about causing devastation under its command."

TAG: All

 

OOC: Saint, would an Intimidate check work here to make Tredora back down, as Skadi's skill is quite high?

If so, see post. If it makes things worse, I humbly ask that you ignore it

---

[b]Sa'adi Adim[/b]
[i]Cathedral of Lathander[/i]

"The truth is as I have said." Skadi repeated frostily, her hand now gripping her sword tightly. "If you have not heard of Urikel Zarl, perhaps you have heard of the horde about to descend on this city?"

Skadi took a step forward. She would not be cowed by this woman.

"Stormcaller is an important member of the Red Hand. We acted as we saw fit to gain vital intelligence on the movements of the horde, and we intend to make her pay for her crimes once our business here is concluded. From the destruction of Skull Gorge Bridge to the evacuation of Drellin's Ferry, almost every major moment in the defense of Brindol has been down to us and [i]you will respect that[/i]."

It seemed to Skadi that her voice was coming from far away: she could not quite believe she was talking to a senior cleric of Lathander like this.

"We need to track down this fiend, Lady Goldenbrow, and quickly, so that we may continue to lend our energies to the defence of your city. Now. Are you going to help us or not?"

[b][TAG all][/b]

 

OOC: Livi: Yes, you can use the check to make Tredora back down, since it's basically an attempt to change her attitude, which you can use Intimidate in place of Diplomacy to do, though as you'll note from the link Intimidate doesn't last quite as long and at best will get you to "friendly".

So, in those terms, Skadi rolls at +24, thus a result of 40, because she's terrifying, and which (as it turns out) is unbeatable.

Everyone else: Both William and Mazarun identify the spell Tredora cast as Zone of Truth, although on my checks William saves against the spell anyway and Mazarun's spell resistance defeats the incantation anyway. Everyone in that room knows there's a compulsive effect on them to tell the truth, but on the die rolls it turns out Ragnar, Ariel, and Corrath, if any of them speak, is impeded from telling deliberate and intentional lies while they're within the radius of the effect. Everyone in the room, as I say, is aware of this effect, so it's possible to either avoid answering questions or be evasive, but Ragnar, Ariel and Corrath can't tell deliberate and intentional lies.

IC post coming soon.

 

OOC: Everything Skadi knows about intimidation, she learned from Amanda Waller.

[image=http://amptoons.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/amanda_waller.jpg]

 

The Company of the Crescent Flame

The Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

Mazarun and William's replies took some of the heat out of Tredora Goldenbrow's features, and in particular the reference to the Red Hand seemed to hit hard. Whatever reassessment she had done in her own mind, though, was delayed as Skadi spoke. Perhaps there was still a little of the Terror of the Sea of Fallen Stars present after all; the cleric of Lathander didn't shrink back or even flinch in the face of the Tyrran's speech, but Tredora's lovely face did go a paler shade.
"A-all right, all right," she said, one hand raised and with a noticeable tremble to it. She took a deep breath, rallying. "You make your case well enough, Lady of the Balance. I'll not withhold this cathedral's assistance if there's aid you require for this hobgoblin scum. But I'd suggest you be circumspect. Be you an ally of Brindol or not, if word spreads that a hobgoblin is being cared for that you brought here, there will be many in this city who would seek your blood. And I promise you -- no entreaty from this temple will help you there. Whether it could or not."

There was a sudden, cold silence in the room, though it was thankfully broken by the opening of the chamber's door and Devin Barrowill walking in once more. The cleric they'd met downstairs, the young man in his early twenties with an awful pocked face, was with him.
Zanaek rubbed his unshaven jaw, hiding the grin that sprang to his face as the halfling respectfully withdrew, leaving the young man alone.

"Outcaster Nathys; my thanks for coming so quickly," said Tredora, and the coldness in her tone made the young cleric look at her quizzically. "I did not wish to interrupt your meditations, but I had need of you. These ... people apparently require some assistance in an area you have some expertise in."

TAG: All

 

IC: William Marshall

"Indeed we do," William said mildly, though he was addressing Tredora more than the young cleric who'd just arrived. "Although you seem to have somewhat misinterpreted our intentions. We did not plan to ask that our captive remain in the care of your church any longer than it takes to handle this issue. Our original intent was to have her imprisoned in Brindol as a member of the enemy forces, not treated as a guest, and once this fiendish problem is dealt with I see no reason to trouble you further with her presence."

He kept his tone polite and respectful; apparently unlike a certain Tyrran, whose reservoir of patience seemed to be almost empty, William was extremely conscious of their tenuous position. The issue with the Haskinars was likely to significantly foul up their efforts to get support from Brindol's nobility as it was, and Skadi's apparent preference for bulling her way through bureaucratic obstacles was not the kind of diplomatic strategy they needed.

TAG: Saint, all

OOC:

O rly, Livi?

 

The Company of the Crescent Flame

The Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

"I would suggest you defer to Outcaster Nathys on that point," replied Tredora, still with ice in her voice. "The subject of dealing with this particular type of case is one he is well versed in. If it be that she must be detained here pending full exorcism and healing against further demonic attack, we have cells which can be adapted for that purpose."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," said the Outcaster, pushing from his face a lock of the curly black mop that was his hair. The young voice was the same, that of a human male on the cusp of his twenties. But the hesitant, uncertain look they'd seen downstairs was gone as if it had never been. It had been replaced by a gaze of such purpose and focus that Zanaek blinked. Menechem Nathys's eyes were older than his face. Downstairs, those eyes had looked weak; shallow. Here, they were chips of blue fire.
"The subject is a hobgoblin," said Tredora Goldenbrow before Zanaek could say anything.
Those chips of blue fire flared with surprise for a second, but returned to their intense gaze. "Is this your will, daughter?"
Daughter, Skadi noted to herself. That form of address was common to the Tyrran church, too, but it was traditionally used by those of close or equal rank or status within the hierarchy. On the other hand, if indeed this man was an exorcist of Lathander, he was already the exception to the rule; in Skadi's faith, so Isak had said, it was rare to meet a Sacred Exorcist younger than fifty.
Tredora's eyes flicked to Skadi and back. "It is my will, and my word for your succour, Outcaster. All assistance that this cathedral can provide you in your work."

She abruptly rose. "Now, if you will excuse me, there are other matters I must attend to. Menechem, feel free to use these chambers for as long as you wish." And she stalked out of the room like all the devils of the Nine Hells were behind her.
The Outcaster bowed his head respectfully until the far door had closed, and then turned immediately back to the Company, moving forward and pulling the hood down of Ulwai's robe. The hobgoblin was still bound by the hands and gagged, but the face had a stricken, pleading look that still made something in Zanaek's heart lurch.
"Stand aside, if you please," the man murmured, and there was something in that request that made Zanaek get out of his way.

Nathys began to raise his hand; Ulwai flinched. He hesitated, the blue fires in that face having a questioning look for a moment. "Say true, hobgoblin: I'll not harm you. The Lady's given the will and the word that you be helped here, not murdered."
When he raised his hand again, the Wyrmlord did not resist. Menechem's hand went to the hobgoblin's forehead, where it rested as he peered deep into one eye; then the other. It was very similar to the inspection Zanaek had given to the unconscious Ulwai's form a few minutes earlier on the stone lion, but there were still some differences: more precision, perhaps. The blue fires in the eyes flickered.
Eventually he exhaled, and lowered his hand, stepping back. "All right. Which of you dealt with the possessor?"
"I did," said Zanaek.
"How did you bind it?"
"Torm's Circle for myself and my companions; and the Relief from Evil on her, before I went to work."
"Did you see anything before you engaged the possessor? Shimmer of heat? Flicker of light on the horizon?"
"Her voice changed during the confrontation. I am certain it was--"
"I'm not," interrupted Menechem. "Again: shimmer of heat? Flickers of light?"
"No," said Zanaek. "None of those things."
Menechem chewed his lip for a second. "It was a tough one, wasn't it?"
Zanaek frowned. "Yes. It took three castings of a spell, one after the other, before she could tell me it was gone. And it seemed to be vying for control with her the whole time."
Nathys let a low whistle escape through his teeth. "Three." He glanced around

 

IC: Mazarun Zothyrr

It was with distinct dismay that Mazarun watched Tredora Goldenbrow stormed from the room; the last thing they needed just now was the grudge of a cleric of her influence in Brindol. She had called Skadi 'Lady of the Balance'; what balance was this? The drow wondered absently if his attempt at being tactful had in Skadi's eyes run so counter to the basic fabric of reality that she'd felt compelled to balance it out with her own, sharper words, lest the world tear in two and consume them all.

The thought almost distracted him from his surprise that the callow youth they'd met earlier was suddenly so self-assured, and had powers that seemed to fit neither his age nor his earlier demeanour. There was clearly more to him than met the eye.

Perhaps he'd been magically reincarnated, Mazarun thought. The contrast between his youth and his strength would make more sense if Nathys had ended up in a brand-new young body. These ideas, however, were of little relevance at present.

"A strange shared dream." He spoke up in answer to Nathys' question. "A dream in which parts of our memories were used to create some changing landscape that was used to threaten us. Someone caused it; we did not know who." He looked over at Ariel, remembering something. "You asked her about the demon's looks. You saw one in the dream. A dark one, you said, with long talons and a whip." That, Mazarun knew, was not very specific in terms of demons - they did love their whips, after all, and most of them were fanged, clawed or behorned to one degree or another.

"Perhaps you could say what it looked like? What it said or did?" If it was the same one, its looks, its behaviour... perhaps they would allow Nathys to identify the thing. Mazarun rather hoped so; finding that out would be a positive step toward not having a malevolent fiend's spirit floating around trying to jump into people's heads and eat their souls, or whatever its intention happened to be.

Tag: Ktala, Saint, Any

 

IC: Corrath Marktos
Cathedral of Lathander

Corrath's expression was one of carefully studied blankness as she stood to one side, ostensibly allowing Nathys to examine Ulwai without interference.

Well: she was allowing him to examine Ulwai without interference. That was true enough. But really, she was mostly sulking, because she really hated being under mind-affecting spells, in particular spells that forced one to tell the truth, of all the bloody things.

She wasn't going to say a word until it wore off. In protest.

TAG: All

 

Ariel Elandinai
NOW they want me to talk, The Cathedral

Ariel stayed silent, simply content to just listen. The woman who ran this temple, had seemed so, well clerical. But that opinion quickly was quickly tarnished. She grew cold, and when she referred to the Company as 'these people'..like they had suddenly turned into lepers.., well to be polite, the ladies polish had suddenly tarnished. Even more so when she decided to cast a spell upon the group, all but calling them liars when the Ghostlord was mentioned. And various other threats, but of course there was nothing new there. So she was quite happy to simply stay silent, and let the clerics handle it. They seemed to be doing well so far. Especially once the 'lady' had left the room.

So, she almost missed the fact, that Mazarun had spoken, and now had turned and was now looking towards her direction.

"You asked her about the demon's looks. You saw one in the dream. A dark one, you said, with long talons and a whip." He gave pause, and then continued. "Perhaps you could say what it looked like? What it said or did?"

Ariel slightly gritted her teeth, annoyed. Now he decides to listen to her earlier words? Well, if it was possible that it might be helpful, she might as well speak. Especially now, with the young cleric looking towards her. It might not even be same creature. Only one way to find out. With a small exhale, she gestured slightly.

"It was after we had done battle with the undead one known as the Ghostlord." Ariel said, recalling the events. "We had left his lair, and somehow, we all fell asleep." Ariel frowned slightly, as she remembered. "I was separated from the others in the group, and was confronted by an image." Ariel then tried to give a detailed a description as she could of the creature she had seen in her vision, from its inky darkness, to the blood soaked talons, the smell of dead things and dark wings, to anything else in between.

"It..It was provoking me to attack it. It would move to attack. It was fast. Very fast. It allowed me to hit it. And every time I did, I saw that instead of injuring it, it seemed to be feeding from it. From me. Once I figured that out, I stopped fighting it. And I laughed at it." Ariel shrugged her shoulders.

"After that, I awoke, and saw that we were all together again. Except for the hobogoblin, who was still asleep."

Ariel crossed her arms in front of her, pushing away the phantom memory of pain of that battle. She had already spoke more than she had planned to. She was battling the urge to curl within her wings, as she simply waited to see if any of the information she had stated was useful or not.


Tag: Rilwen, Saint, Any

 

IC: Mazarun Zothyrr

Mazarun frowned to himself as he listened to Ariel. She'd seemed almost... exasperated? to have to tell her story. He shrugged to himself. That was her own business, really. But she'd seemed to think it might have been the demon she saw, from what she'd asked Ulwai, and they were finally standing in front of someone who might know more about the different sorts of demons. She'd been the one to see something that certainly sounded like a demon, so she was the one to have to describe it. And if she wanted to grit her teeth or clench her jaw about it, she could feel free to do that, as long as she also did the talking part of the equation.

It all seemed fairly simple to Mazarun. But perhaps Ariel's sort were a little less accustomed to dealing with nightmarish threats that required this kind of thought on their destruction.

While Mazarun was not an expert on demons, he did know something of ruthless, sadistic enemies, and of foes whose nature was so strange or hidden or inconstant that even the slightest clue was vital if one was to survive their malice.

And particularly of the kind of enemy that found the whole situation more appealing if you hated or fought them...

But then, his fellow drow did not as a general rule go in for incorporeal possession. So there was that.

On the whole, he decided, he'd rather permit himself the irritation at the winged elf's petulant sighing than the other things swirling in his thoughts.

Still... from the way she looked once she was done talking... perhaps it had just frightened her and she didn't like admitting she'd encountered anything that could. That might be understandable. And it would make her pretty much like everyone else with that touch of pride. Perhaps she differed very little from the others after all.

(Also in that, barring certain potential commonalities of emotion, she was just as incomprehensible to Mazarun as most surfacers.)

Tag: Any

 

The Company of the Crescent Flame

The Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

The Outcaster, as far as Zanaek could tell, didn't blink as Ariel and Mazarun related their accounts. When the avariel had ended her story, he nodded, but still had something of a puzzled expression. "What you described sounds a lot like what Outcasters call a shadow demon, but it attacking you in the midst of a dream and after you'd left a den of evil doesn't fit. Shadow demons have no strength in sunlight. At all. And even in darkness I wouldn't have regarded them as terribly strong at resisting even basic expulsion attempts like you did."
"This one certainly did," said Zanaek. "It was like trying to wrestle a giant in my head."
"Which is why I tend to think either what you expelled wasn't the author of your dream, or that the demon you fought in your dreams wasn't the fiend's true face," said Menechem. "I'll not gild the Lathander's Glory with you - based on what you're saying, I suspect something a good deal more powerful than a skulking shadow demon. A bebilith would be strong enough to fit your story, but I've never encountered one that was more interested in possessing subjects than it was devouring other demons. Hezrou's a possibility, too, but they love blood combat too much to engage in possession. No, possession's usually more favoured by creatures like succubi or retrievers. Although the only rule in this vocation is that there are no rules. For all we really know you could've just woken up a balor -- Lathander's rays preserve us from that."
"Wait, what do you mean 'woken up'?" asked Zanaek.
"You didn't know?" Nathys' eyes widened a little.
"This is not," said Zanaek, "the sort of thing we run into every day."
"The demon's body is somewhere on the Prime Material Plane. The spell you cast knocked it back there; reunited it with its body. If it's got any intelligence, it's unlikely to sit around waiting for a covey of clerics to come looking for it. And in some cases, the demon looks for someone to return it to its corporeal form."
"I don't understand."
Nathys sighed. "Sometimes an arcanist or a dark cleric will intentionally separate a demon from its incorporeal form. It's rare as I've ever heard of, but a demon can sometimes be compelled to serve a master due to a physical threat to a corporeal form it can't access. In that situation, an incantation of expulsion like the one you cast overrides that sort of repulsion, which allows the demon to be free since it can access all its powers."
"All right, so, we have to find its physical body to kill it, don't we?"
"If you want to end its threat forever, then yes." Nathys's gaze was steady.
"Then how do we find it?"
"There's no set distance. When I said it could be somewhere on this plane I was quite serious. It could literally be on one of the Tears of Selune, or at the bottom of the Sea of Fallen Stars."
"There has to be a way."
"There might be. But it will take an hour, leaving the hobgoblin here at the cathedral, under our protection, while we cast a spell of memory to try and search through her experience of possession. Often a demon will leave trails in the memory of a subject's mind - clues to where it remembers its physical form as being. That will at least narrow the search down. The only other alternatives I can think of are to appeal directly to the gods for guidance -- but there is no cleric in the Vale that I know of who has sufficient power to do that."

TAG: All

 

Evelios D'Rtan, Master of Staying Quiet Whenever His Player is Away, and Poe the Raven
"Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go I wanna be sedated
Nothin' to do no where to go-o-oh I wanna be sedated
Just put me in a wheelchair get me to the show
Hurry hurry hurry before I go loco" - The Ramones

Evelios D'Rtan stood around very quietly as he observed the situation.

---

And if you believe that, I've got a bridge you might be interested in buying.

"Evelios," Poe muttered, poking the bard. "Evelios, wake up. I'm pretty sure we're here."

"Oh, be quiet Poe, I'm trying to get some shut-eye."

"You know we've only got about ten minutes of air in here, yes?"

"Mmhmm."

"And it's been nine minutes and forty seconds by my reckoning?"

"OH BUGGER!" Evelios shouted as his head emerged from the bag of holding. He almost immediately regretted it. Key word being almost. "Good lord, Poe, did I just swear in the middle of a cathedral?"

"I think you did," Poe replied, poking his head out of the bag as well.

"Well bugger me."

"There you did it again!"

"Right, right, er... don't mind me, I'm just the zany, lovable swearing head in a bag. And this is my associate Birdbrain!"

"Singing!"

"We're heads"

"In a bag"

"Got no bodies"

"Cause we're heads"

"Got no hands"

"Cause we're heads"

"Go about your business"

"Cause we're heads"

"This is kind of a plothole if you over analyze it"

"Cause we're heads"

"Yes heads"

"Heads in a bag!" They finished in unison.

[hr]
This was, of course, merely a humorous and impossible daydream - its inherent implausibility perhaps best summed up by the fact that Poe was cooperating with all of that nonsense, which is of course grossly out of character unless there's food involved.

Evelios was contenting himself with being a polite listener - which involved staring almost too intently at Zanaek and the other cleric and was maddening in its own way, really. Tremendous, saucer-like eyes were involved.

Oh yeah. [i]Zany.[/i] This is the kind of free-spirited fun that you love to write, right here.

Intense staring.






So intense.







You don't even know.






SOOOOO intense.

[b]TAG: All[/b]

[face_tongue]

 

OOC: ramza, we did, in fact, pull everyone out of the bags, including Evelios. I'm pretty sure you're aware of that given you were willing to have him do his Diplomacy thing, and in any case I doubt the party would really let him suffocate.

Unless he causes another riot.

 

OOC: But there was quite clearly a scene in where Saint noted that all of the party members except a bard.

 

The Company of the Crescent Flame

The Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

Menechem frowned at the interruption, then looked back at Zanaek. "Has your associate been afflicted with some sort of Ray of Stupidity? I think the temple library still has some scrolls of Restoration left if he requires some healing of his mind."

TAG: All

 

IC: Mazarun Zothyrr

Mazarun tilted his head, absently pushing one forelock behind his ear as he thought. Nathys had said that it required a spell to ask the gods for guidance, and the drow distinctly remembered the discussion before they'd teleported into Brindol.

"You said you'd thought of speaking to your god about it, earlier," he pointed out to Zanaek. "If it can't be done another way..."

He had also not missed Nathys' opinion that there were no clerics in the Vale powerful enough to have mastered the prayer in question. If Zanaek had been correct about his planning, that meant that Zanaek was possibly the most powerful cleric currently in the Vale. (And quite probably Skadi too, since her demeanour was not that of someone less powerful than Zanaek.)

This was an oddly comforting notion; if Mazarun had to have representatives of justice and chivalry around who might either haul him out of the trouble he'd get if exposed, or patch him up if this war went sour, it might as well be the strongest ones possible.

(Not that it would prevent him from disagreeing with them - silently or aloud - whenever he thought they were wrong, of course.)

(And that was assuming they would haul him out of trouble, but given the effort Zanaek had gone to for a hobgoblin who wasn't even on the same side, Mazarun supposed he was probably fairly safe. He was being useful, after all, and they wouldn't discard him while he was still useful, surely...)

Tag: Saint, Any

 

Sa'adi Adim
Cathedral of Lathander

"Has your associate been afflicted with some sort of Ray of Stupidity? I think the temple library still has some scrolls of Restoration left if he requires some healing of his mind."

'You're welcome to try." Skadi sighed. "But experience suggests that Evelios is beyond conventional help."

At this point Skadi's main theory on Evelios was 'incurably insane'. It made it easier to pretend that his constant overflow of onoxiousness wasn't happening.

"It seems that we are here for at least another hour, then." Skadi crossed her arms, metal dinking against metal. "If the rest of you wish to travel into Brindil, I will stay with the prisoner and make sure she cannot do any mischief."

Or that anything untoward happens to her during their absence. Skadi trusted Tredora Goldenbrow about as far as she could throw her- less, actually, because Skadi was pretty certain she could get a good distance with the other cleric.

[TAG All]

 

The Company of the Crescent Flame

The Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

Zanaek glanced at Nathys, but the Outcaster was looking over Ulwai again. So the cleric of Torm turned to Mazarun, lowering his voice a little. "Speaking to my god's not really the right term for it, though there's certainly communication." He chewed his lip for a moment; spoke. "Imagine standing directly under a hundred-foot waterfall. And then trying to breathe, stand, drink a few drops of water, and listen to what the waterfall is saying all at the same time. It's opening yourself to the full, naked power of a god's own mind - the human mind and body are strong enough to carry and convey replies of affirmation or denial to questions, but not much more, and not for long. I can do it - if the need is there."

TAG: Rilwen, all

OOC: So, anybody going wandering into Brindol?